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"WHAT?" John Sheridan did not sound happy. He looked up at the two figures before him - one his wife to be, and the other a loyal friend and ally. "I'm sorry, we are thinking of the same person, aren't we?"
"You mean the one who nearly killed you?" Susan Ivanova sounded even less happy, but the object of her anger was located firmly on Marcus. He shrugged and gave her a silly grin which infuriated her even more.
"Neroon has asked permission to come here," Delenn said, speaking slowly, her eyes never leaving John. "I do not know the reason for his visit, but I think he should be permitted to come."
"Even after he...." John began, only to be interrupted.
"Even after he tried his hardest to purée Marcus!" Susan shouted. "You should have thrown him out of an airlock the last time he was here. Never mind letting him back. Or have you forgotten that he almost started a war while Jeff was here?"
"No, I haven't," John said slowly, resting back in his chair. He saw Delenn flick her gaze downwards. He knew the part she had played in that affair as well. Then he looked across at Marcus. "How do you feel with him coming on board? It was you he nearly killed after all."
"Fortunes of war," the Ranger replied, shrugging off the quite unpleasant injuries he had suffered trying to defend Delenn from an attack by the Minbari Warrior. "I say he should come. I think he and I might have quite a bit in common."
"There's your blatant stupidity for a start," Susan muttered. She could feel three gazes on her and she shrugged. "Sorry, but I still don't like the idea."
"I'm not too fond of it myself," John replied. "But, if Delenn and Marcus feel safe with him here, then he may as well come. Besides, he's an obstacle that we'll have to get around sooner or later."
"Thank you, John," Delenn said simply.
"But, he'll have a full security team on him at all times. I'm not sure I trust him either."
"I do not think he would like that," Delenn said slowly. "Which is, of course, a perfect reason for doing it." She smiled. Neroon had certainly caused her enough problems in the past.
Seeing John latch on to Delenn's smile the way a drowning man latches on to a breath of air, Susan looked at Marcus and made a gesture that meant something along the lines of, 'Let's get out of here and leave them alone.' Marcus obviously agreed, and the two of them left the room as quietly as possible. John and Delenn obviously had hardly noticed their departure.
"I still think this is stupid," Susan was muttering as she and Marcus ambled away from the Captain's office. "I mean, you actually think you have something in common with him?"
"Apart from our blatant stupidity?" Marcus was teasing her, and she knew it.
Biting back a smile, she replied, "Well what else would you call taking on a Minbari Warrior in hand-to-hand combat, alone when you could just as easily have called a Security team instead?"
"Ooh, I could call it, loyalty, honour, a sense of duty...."
"I think stupidity fits it better myself."
"You have no soul, you know that. Besides, haven't we had this conversation already?"
"Have we? And I resent that remark about my soul."
"Yes, we have. About a dozen times. I can only think you were filled with worry for me."
"I was not! Well, not much anyway."
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Marcus countered, smiling. She couldn't help but smile in turn. Something about the way he smiled was contagious. And annoying.
"Whatever," she muttered. "So when's this Neroon arriving anyway?"
"Oh, a few days, and don't think I didn't miss you changing the subject."
"You obviously know me far too well."
Not as well as I'd like to, he thought. "Are you.... um.... doing anything tonight?"
"Sleeping, but apart from that, no."
"Oh good. How about I cook you tea then?"
"Tea?"
"You know, the meal that comes after lunch but before supper."
"Yes, I know tea. I didn't know that you could cook."
"You'd be surprised what I picked up on Ranger training."
"Tell me, Marcus, in between learning language skills, combat techniques, cooking and how to master that incredibly annoying smile, did you ever get any rest at all while training?"
"Every now and then. So, what word from our gallant Commander?"
"I'll think about it," she replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the League in a few minutes."
"Enjoy yourself," he said as she left. Her own reply involved words he was fairly certain a beautiful lady like Susan shouldn't be aware of. Whistling to himself, he walked off in the opposite direction. He had sort of told a little lie to Susan - the truth being that he was an absolutely appalling cook. However he knew a man - or rather a Narn - who wasn't.
"Time to call in a few favours," he said to himself. As he rounded a corner in the corridor, however, he suddenly came to a stop and paused. Sliding his as yet unopened fighting pike to his hand, he looked around slowly. There was no one in sight, but something was arousing his instincts. He had learned to rely on them over time.
No, there was no one and nothing around. Returning the pike to his belt, he resumed his journey, although he was no longer whistling this time. Behind them, there was a brief flicker of motion. It was tiny, little more than a shadow.
* * * * * * *
Alone, in darkness, the being who had once been a Minbari, was sitting in silence. Patience was a virtue possessed by the great, and it was probably the only virtue he had left to call his own.
Blackened and burnt fingers tapped against the hard wood of the strange human device before him. He had heard it was called a pulpit and was used when members of the human religious caste wanted to enact rituals to their followers. Once, he had believed in religion, in a great power, in Valen. But no longer. How could be believe when everything had forsaken him?
"Yes?" he whispered, his voice little more than a hoarse rasp. The figure before him stepped closer, carrying a small torch which only faintly illuminated the darkness. It was the Centauri female - Lady Elrisia. She still insisted on dressing herself in the finest gowns and jewellery, despite their inappropriateness in this surround. It was as he had always thought. Other races were inferior to Minbari, and they always had been. Even the Minbari had now allowed themselves to grow weak and fragile. Tainted by weaker blood and by weaker ideas. Even the greatest of the Minbari currently alive had fallen for human pretensions.
"It is as you said," Elrisia replied. "Shai Alyt Neroon is coming here." Her tongue stumbled over the Minbari pronunciation, but he had come to expect that. "He will be here within a few days."
"Ah. Good. Anything else?"
"Marrit was nearly spotted earlier today. By the Ranger."
A Ranger? No true Ranger? Where was Valen to lead them? Where were the Warriors to fill their ranks and hold the stand against the Darkness? Humans and priestlings did not Rangers make.
"Marrit is a fool," she continued. "I don't know why you tolerate him."
"I tolerate him because his hatred is as great as yours, and as useful to me. Do not forget why we are doing this."
"No, of course not. I am sorry." He closed his mind to her babbling apologies. She was an interesting creature. Afraid of him, but still managing to insert her customary authority and rank to her bearing and speech. She had been powerful until her husband had been killed in some scandal on Narn and her fortunes fell afterwards. Hatred came in many forms and hers was easily directed at the Starkiller. After all, he may not have killed her husband, but he had killed her son.
"When will we take action?" she asked. "I am tired of waiting here."
"When I am ready," he replied. "And not a moment before. Satai Neroon must be here when we do so. Perhaps he will be able to rekindle our ancient fire. If anyone can it will be him."
She shivered. She was vain and shallow this one, and easily bought, probably the easiest of his three allies. Marrit was simply consumed by hatred - for the Starkiller, for his halfbreed whore, for the Minbari, for the rebels here. Elrisia wanted only power and wealth and a return to the life from which her husband's death had taken her. And as for H'Klo, he wanted.... what? A purpose, a means of salvation. To kill Elrisia.
A strange coalition. A bitter human, a vain Centauri, a lost Narn and a fallen Minbari.
"What do you want?" he whispered to himself, and he cursed the day he had ever answered the question.
But his feet were on the path and there was no escaping it.
Save by two deaths, and countless more to follow.
* * * * * * *
"Delenn?"
"Hmm?" she whispered, snuggled close into his lap. It was surprising just how much room there could be for two on his chair.
"Nothing. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice."
"I would think you have heard me speak so often you would be tired of it."
"Never. Not even if we both live to be a thousand.... Oh.... Delenn, I...."
She had pressed her head harder against his shoulder, trying to blot out her tears. A thousand? He had but twenty years left at most. A moment, really. So many wasted opportunities. So many chances lost never to be regained.
"I'm not afraid, you know, Delenn. I've had a good life all in all. I've been very lucky to fall in love with two very wonderful women. I've had good friends and I've.... we've done something important, something that will mean a lot. I'm not afraid, Delenn. My only regret is that I won't be here to comfort you afterwards...."
"I.... I know," she whispered in reply. "I should be.... happy, I suppose. That you came back at all, but I can only think of wasted moments, of lost chances."
"Well, then," he replied. "We'd better make sure we don't waste any more then, hadn't we?"
"I don't think we can ever waste time when we are together." She lifted up her head to stare directly into his eyes. She had never failed to lose herself in them. So warm, so caring, so lovely, so.... so old. Slowly, not wanting to lose sight of those eyes, she moved closer to him. His arms tightened around her.
There was the noise that clearly indicated the communications relay being activated. John groaned. "Not again," he whispered. "If this is Ivanova, I swear I'll...." Delenn smiled, but showed no intention of shifting from her very comfortable position on his lap. "On."
It was not Ivanova. In fact, it was Zack. The new Chief of Security still looked uncomfortable in his uniform, but his lack of comfort there was as nothing when he saw the Minbari Ambassador sitting on the captain's lap, her arms around him.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Allan?" John asked. And this better be important, he mentally added.
"Um.... Yeah, right. Sorry. We've found three murdered maintenance men recently. Nasty work, but quiet and clean. Well, most of it. Doc says their throats were crushed. Very professional stuff. What happened was done.... afterwards."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, this is the weirdest thing. Their bodies were completely cut open. I mean, really sliced apart. This took place after they were dead. At first I thought it was just another psycho. I mean, hey, it's not nasty, but it ain't exactly rare either. But then there's the writing."
"What writing?"
"Written in blood on the wall behind them. I can't read it, it's in Narn script, but one of the Narns doing duty managed to read it, and he didn't like the sound of it at all."
"What did it say?"
"The Shryne has arisen. Hey, kind of weird I know, and I'm damned if I can make any sense of it." John heard a soft gasp from Delenn and felt her burying her face in his shoulder.
"Anything else, Mr. Allan?" he said, trying to keep his voice as emotionless as he could.
"Um, yeah, one more thing, and I swear you won't like this. There was a name written on each of the bodies. Also in blood. A different name on each body."
"Whose names?"
"Uh.... yours.... the ambassador's.... and um.... Ambassador Sinclair."
"I see," John whispered. The One Who Was, the One Who Is, and the One Who Will Be. "Call me back whenever you find out anything new."
"Will do, Captain. Oh, one last thing, the murders all took place in Grey Sector. I swear I think the Chief.... I mean Mr. Garibaldi was right. That place is haunted." The image faded.
"Delenn?" John whispered. "Delenn. You recognised that message, didn't you?"
"Yes. Yes, I did."
"And? What is it?"
"A phrase, that is all. The Shryne has arisen. It was spoken by the Shadow agent who first confronted Valen when he attacked Z'ha'dum."
"It was in Narn script. Would G'Kar know anything?"
"Maybe. I do not like this, John."
"No, nor do I. I think I'd better have Mr. Allan put a full security team on your quarters. I don't know why your name was written there, but I don't want you to be next."
"John, I can look after myself."
"I know you can, but just allow the guy who loves you this chance to play at being macho and protect you, hmm?"
"Whatever you say." But her smile was forced and uncomfortable.
* * * * * * *
Marcus paced up and down his room slowly, trying to make himself think that he wasn't nervous at all. No, this was all perfectly rational. He was calm and collected and why the hell wasn't she here yet?
"That was clever," he whispered, sitting down at the table and looking at the food G'Kar had provided. The Narn was a truly excellent cook, although he had not done so for quite a while. He owed Marcus a favour or two and was only to happy to pay up in this way. He had even sung a little as he had done the cooking, and had made a few suggestive remarks about Commander Ivanova. G'Kar was nearly back to his old self again.
"Oh, come on, Susan. I've heard of fashionably late, but this is ridiculous."
Suddenly his communications screen beeped and came on. Marcus spun around to find Susan's face staring at him.
"I'd wondered where you'd gotten to," he said. "The food is getting cold, or does everyone eat cold food in Russia?"
"Marcus, I'm sorry. I.... um.... well I can't make it. I've been held up by the Drazi representatives, and well, you know what the Drazi are like. They still see me as the Green Leader or something. I'm really sorry."
"Oh.... no, that's fine. Duty first, hey?"
"Maybe some other time?"
"Maybe, yes."
"Oh.... well.... I'll see you later then."
"See you later. Bye."
"Bye."
The viewscreen blinked out and Marcus stared at the food before him. It could always be reheated he supposed, and he didn't really feel like eating it now.
"You know what you need, Marcus, old man," he said. "A good fight, that's what. And I know just where to find one."
And so, he headed off.
* * * * * * *
Meanwhile, in her quarters, a long way from any of the Drazi representatives, Susan Ivanova poured herself another drink and sat back slowly, unshed tears in her eyes.
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