Chapter 2

ALFRED Bester subscribed to a great many sayings. He believed in ancient wisdom, and the classic methods of doing things. Efficiency, clear thinking, forward planning and extensive preparations were never old fashioned.
The first rule he held dear was the simplest of all: 'Know Thine Enemy'.
No one could ever accuse Bester of having small dreams. He wanted everything. Cursed from birth with a useless hand, cursed in adolescence by his lack of height, cursed with an ability that no one understood and everyone feared, Bester had had only his ambition to maintain him. His ambition and his superiority.
Others looked down on telepaths, scorned them, hated them, pushed them aside into a big, black box called Psi Corps and left them to rot there. Bester was not the first to realise the truth about telepaths, but he was one of the first to take advantage of another old saying:
'One man's curse is another man's blessing.'
Telepathy was a gift, not a curse. It was a valuable resource, to be harvested and cropped and protected. Telepaths were the strong, the gifted, the blessed, the inheritors of the future. And he would be their harvester.
Bester's own powers of telepathy had been strong, very strong. Rated at P12, he was quickly inducted into the Psi Cops, the best of the best. He soon grasped at the power - both personal and political - such a position gave him. So what if he was still not free, and so what if he had to marry whoever the Corps told him to, and follow the Corps' rules? He was patient. He could wait.
And with the Corps gone, he was now the sole inheritor of all their knowledge and power, all of it invested here, in the place simply called Sanctuary.
He alone knew the secrets that were supposed to have died with the Corps. He knew of the Lazarus Project, and the Control Programme. He knew the secrets of Bureau 13, and the Star Chamber, and Interplanetary Expeditions.
There was yet another saying: 'Knowledge is Power'.
Bester was not much of a military man. He preferred to operate behind the scenes and let other people's hands get dirty. Events would force him to change that stance soon enough, but he would be ready when they did. Meanwhile, he was content to sit back, and wait and learn, and amass knowledge. Although military matters were not his forte, he had read the words of Sun Tzu, acknowledged greatest strategist of all time. There was one very valid piece of advice in those words.
'He who knows neither his enemy nor himself will not win in a hundred battles. He who knows himself but not his enemy will only win fifty of those battles. He who knows both his enemy and himself will not lose in a hundred battles.'
Bester intended never to lose even once, but he also knew that sometimes a loss was merely victory in other clothes.
He looked up, feeling the emotions of the four people outside his door, and he smiled. Most telepaths needed line of sight to make a scan, and so did he, but he could still pick up the background hum of stray thoughts even through a door, or a wall.
There was Michael Garibaldi, as loyal and as fearless as ever. Bester wondered how his wife Lianna was doing. There should only be a few months of her pregnancy left by now.
There was Commander David Corwin, loyal and.... Bester sighed. That was annoying. He was practising those strange techniques to block telepathic scans. They seemed Minbari in nature, and that was not very surprising, really. Another telepath might be confused, but to Bester it was as effective as a paper wall would be against a battering ram. Still, it was annoying.
Then there was Satai Delenn. Her own mental walls were much weaker, which was surprising. He could sense a residual undercurrent of pain. Yes, he'd been expecting that. The sooner he had details of the exact nature of her change, the better.
And then there was Captain John Sheridan, the Starkiller.
"Door," he said, and it opened. Garibaldi was the first in, of course, but behind him was....
"Captain Sheridan," Bester said. "It is good to see you again. I've been.... looking forward to another meeting for quite some time now."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Where.... is.... she?"
Susan Ivanova sighed, and sat back. Marcus had grown very repetitive lately. It was annoying.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you it wasn't polite to talk about another woman when you're with someone?"
He was angry, but he couldn't do anything about it. Oh, he could have attacked her, but that wouldn't have done either of them any good. It wouldn't have got him any nearer to finding his beloved telepath, and she would have hated to have damaged him at all.
Besides, he wouldn't attack her. He couldn't bring himself to hurt a woman. In some ways Marcus was like a knight of old - pure, noble, kind, virtuous....
Susan poured herself a drink of some revolting Narn liquor and drained it in one. She knew better than to offer Marcus any. She could tell from the look in his eyes of the way he had come to depend on alcohol. It had taken a great deal to shake him free.
Susan hated Narn drinks, but they were the only things around and she needed something. She'd never told this to anyone before. She'd tried to avoid admitting it to herself, but she had to try.... Marcus represented everything she'd ever let herself hope for, and she wasn't going to lose him to Psi Corps the way she had everything else.
"Did you ever see many telepaths on your home colony?" she asked. "Any Psi Corps representatives? Anything like that?"
"Where is Lyta? Where is Captain Sheridan? Where...?"
"Marcus. Trust me. Please? I'll tell you everything you need to know, but first just.... please listen to me." This was going to get harder and harder. She swallowed harshly and turned away, anything rather than look at him while she was saying this. She didn't want him to see her this scared.
The Shadows were not happy at her wasting time like this. She had had quite an argument convincing them of the point of this. It could be possible to bring him over to their side voluntarily. Without having to use a Keeper, without mind control, or being placed in a ship. And if they could manage this with him, then surely they could manage it with anyone.
They didn't quite believe her, and they certainly knew about her ulterior motives, but they didn't seem to mind. She wondered what they thought about, what they would die for, if they even knew the meaning of the word love. She wondered what they wanted.
"Marcus?"
"I.... yes. A few commercial telepaths, that's all. We had a Psi Cop visit once, when I was little. We never paid them much attention. Why?"
"We had the Psi Corps everywhere. I was born in the Russian consortium, out in the country a bit, but not exactly the wilderness. We saw telepaths wandering through from time to time. Business deals, that sort of thing."
She closed her eyes tightly, welcoming the darkness she saw.
"My mother was a telepath. Potentially, she was of average strength, I suppose, but she was never trained. She couldn't do much. She wasn't a threat to anyone. The only person she could ever read was me. I suppose she could read my father and my brother Ganya as well, but it was mostly just me.
"Psi Corps came for her one day, on her thirty-fifth birthday. She didn't have much choice. Go to prison, join the Corps or take certain drugs. She had a young family. She didn't want to leave us, so she took the drugs, and they killed her. One bit at a time. Eventually she killed herself, but that wasn't when she died. She'd been dead for a long time before then, dead where it counted.
"She told me something, just before she died. Three words. Tell no one. And I haven't. I've kept this a secret for so long, always moving around, hiding, changing schools. Always new faces, new surroundings, a new name. That's why I don't have an accent, in case you were wondering. I never spent enough time in one place to develop one.
"My father knew what I was, but he didn't seem to believe it. He certainly never mentioned it, and he died a little, after Mama died. He never had much love for me, and he had even less afterwards. He died on Earth. Ganya.... I don't think he knew, although if he had, he wouldn't have said anything. He died a few months before the Line.
"No one human knows this, Marcus. No one. But I have to tell you, because.... because you have to see what I am, what I want....
"I'm a telepath. Not very powerful, and I've never been trained. The only person I could ever touch was my mother, but that's enough for Psi Corps. That's why I always moved, in case Psi Corps caught up with me. They'd catch me, and they'd do to me what they did to my mother.
"Psi Corps was pretty much destroyed with Earth, but there's still a few of them left. You remember Bester, don't you? He's still around, and of course there's your Lyta. There's enough of them to pose a threat, and if anyone had ever found out what I was, then they'd have taken me. They'd have had to. Lyta is one of the only telepaths of any power here. The Resistance Government is always looking for more resources, more weapons, more anything of value. More telepaths.
"They'd have given me to what was left of the Corps, and there'd be nothing I could do about it.
"Until I met the Shadows. They asked me what I wanted, the same question I asked Captain Sheridan. My answer.... I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be able to stop running. I didn't want to be afraid any more!
"And now I'm not. I'm not afraid, or ashamed, of what I am. The Shadows.... never mind what anyone's told you, they aren't our enemies. What have they done for you to oppose them so much? All they want to do is help us. They want us to take back our place in the galaxy. All of us, the whole human race has been living in fear for fifteen years! Thanks to the Shadows, we don't have to be afraid any more.
"They want to help us, Marcus, and everything I've done since I came here, has been to help humanity. You.... the Shadows didn't understand you. They'd have killed you, but I couldn't let that happen.
"Marcus, I can help you. All you have to do is believe me. I don't want to hurt you.
"Marcus, what do you want?"
She could see the lights gleaming in his eyes. She could feel the memories burning in the back of his mind. She could practically.... touch him.
No! She drew back, terrified. She'd only ever been able to touch her mother. The Shadows had tried to augment her powers, but they'd only succeeded peripherally. She still couldn't do much. Her children might be more powerful, but for the moment, no.
But, she had found herself able to reach out and touch Marcus' mind. But she had pulled back. To invade his thoughts without his permission.... that would be a violation, that would be as terrible as anything Psi Corps had done to her.
"Why did they destroy my home?" Marcus asked. "If all they want to do is help, then why did they kill everyone I ever cared for?" She could feel his bitterness, his anger. It had been festering within him for almost a year now.
Damn you, John! she thought. Why did you have to make him part of your little war?
"That was.... an accident. The Shadows seeded one of their ships there a long time ago, before it was ever colonised. They didn't.... mean to kill anyone, but they had to retrieve their ship. They're.... sorry."
"An accident?" he said hollowly. "Just.... an accident. Delenn said that the war began because of an accident. Does that excuse what the Minbari have done?"
"No, but.... we're trying to help, Marcus. My friends.... they helped me, and they can help you. All you have to do is let them. Please! You don't have to fight them. What do you want, Marcus? Just tell me and you can have it."
"I want to know where Lyta is."
Susan started, as if she had been struck. She almost fell, but she managed to catch herself in time. She could only stare at him, wondering what might have been if only things had been different.
Psi Corps had taken everything from her. Had they taken this as well?
Her link activated, and she raised it slowly, still looking at Marcus.
"Yes?" she said.
"Ambassador Ivanova." It was General Hague. "I would like to see you as soon as possible. We're picking up some disturbing reports about Minbari activity."
"I.... yes. I'll be there now." She turned off her link and looked at Marcus.
"Please. Think about what I said." She went to the door. "And don't do anything stupid. The Shadows here have eyes."
She left.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"So then, Mr. Morden, is there any chance you can explain just what you are doing here?"
Londo studied the human before him carefully. Morden - if that was his real name - looked.... normal. A little too normal. Londo's experience with humans had not been extensive, but he had spent some time in the last year sparring with the Resistance Government at Proxima 3 - setting up a peace accord that his dear friend Lord Refa had just blown completely out of the sky - and he had learned to read the species. Their politics were not as subtle or as sophisticated as the Centauri's, but they still posed their own problems to one unaware of human customs.
Morden was simply dressed, all in black. His clothes were torn - the guard had mentioned something about his being roughed up a little - and he was marked with bruises and scratches. There was fatigue in his bearing, but he bore his injuries as if they were irrelevant. Just a minor annoyance.
"I.... had a meeting," he said, smiling slightly. It was a very personal smile, one that indicated that whatever he was smiling about had nothing whatsoever to do with anyone else.
"With whom exactly?"
"Oh, no one special. You know how it is, Minister."
"Mr. Morden, what I do know is that you are in very serious trouble. You have been accused of murdering a lady of this court - our Emperor's mother, no less. If you cannot be considerably more straightforward with me than you are now, I fear your remaining life will be uncomfortable, unpleasant and short."
"Did you happen to hear of any evidence against me?"
Londo was tired. He had been tired for the best part of three or four years, ever since he had met G'Kar and been inducted into the little conspiracy the Narn was forming. It had been on G'Kar's advice that he had directed foreign policy and the attempted peace accord with the humans. He had helped G'Kar and jeopardised his future and his career in doing so. He was also embroiled in a power struggle that looked set to explode into civil war at any moment. He was married to three of the most.... annoying ladies millennia of Centauri breeding had managed to produce. And on top of that, he had been called for a meeting with Lady Morella, Emperor Turhan's third wife, and prophetess, only to find that she had been murdered.
He was not having a good life.
"Mr. Morden! You are accused of murdering a Centauri lady, a prominent member of the Royal Court. You are an alien here. Evidence has got nothing to do with it."
"I didn't do it."
"And I am sure that will make a lot of difference to your corpse, Mr. Morden. Maybe you are guilty, and maybe you are not, but the point is that I cannot find out which one is true unless you deign to provide me with some answers. Why are you on Centauri Prime?"
"I'm a trader. I had some archaeological goods to sell."
"And where did you sell them?"
"Oh. Here and there."
"Mr. Morden! Do you comprehend the severity of your situation here?"
"My apologies, Minister." Morden smiled again and bowed mockingly. "It won't happen again. To answer your question, I sold a number of ancient Centauri artefacts to a Lady Drusella, and a handful more at a select auction."
"Lady Drusella?" Londo knew of her. She was married to Lord Marrago, a high ranking military governor during the war with the Narn. He had ruled several colonies taken in the early stages of the last war. He had a daughter, did he not? Ah, what was her name? A pretty little thing, vacant and mindless? Read too much poetry?
"Bah!" he snapped. It had escaped him. He must be getting old. He was losing his memory. Lord Marrago had never shown much of an inclination for power games on Centauri Prime. He was always far more content ruling his captured colonies. Lady Drusella was not particularly important, either, but an appearance of unimportance was the perfect disguise.... Had she arranged Lady Morella's murder?
Or was Londo just becoming very paranoid?
"And where exactly did you uncover these artefacts? I doubt they came from Proxima Three." The humans' last colony was quite a way from Centauri space.
"No, actually. I've been.... out of circulation there for a while. I've been doing some exploration out on the Rim."
"Oh? Did you discover anything interesting? Apart from these artefacts?"
He hesitated, as if evaluating an answer. Then he smiled. "Yes."
Londo groaned. "And why were you here in the Royal Palace last night?"
Why was he bothering? Why couldn't he be in bed right now? Or better yet, in a gambling hall, with a pretty lady in one arm, and a pair of charmed dice in the other?
Why? Because he had fought hard for the good of his people, because he believed in the good old days of Centauri power, and he believed that they could come about again. Because he believed that his people deserved better, and more. Because he believed, full stop.
And because he was not going to let anyone return the Centauri to what they had been before the war - decadent, pitied, insular, shallow and pathetic. Neither Narn, nor human, nor Centauri, nor Minbari, nor Vorlon. No one.
"I had a meeting. With Lady Morella. She was.... interested in the artefacts I was selling and she wanted to arrange for first refusal when I returned."
"That is a lie, Mr. Morden. That last part certainly."
"Ah," he said. "Yes, you're right." He paused, and Londo could feel the human's eyes concentrating on him. "Were you making a point?"
"Double bah! This is pathetic. I do not care whether you are guilty or innocent, Mr. Morden. I do not care if you are executed and your head stuck on a pike. I only care that, if you are innocent, the real murderer remains at large, and threatens what I have built here. That I will not let happen, Mr. Morden. I will give you a while to.... consider your situation here. I will return later. For your sake, be a little more co-operative than you are at present."
Londo banged on the door, and stormed away. He was developing a headache, uncomfortably like a hangover, except without all the fun that would precede it. He was tired, he was irritable and he wanted a drink.
He did not want a run-in with that multi-damned harridan Lady Elrisia and that drooling imbecile Cartagia. But still, what he wanted rarely mattered in the great scheme of things.
And Morden, what did he want? Perhaps if anyone had been able to listen in to him in his cell, they would have uncovered something interesting....
"So, now that I'm in this mess, did you have any plans for getting me out of it? Oh, thank you very much, but it's easy enough for you to say that. I'm quite attached to my head, you know. I like it on my neck, and not on a Centauri pike.
"Ah. Yes. I hadn't thought of that. You might just have a point."
But as no one was listening, the one-sided conversation went unheeded. A pity, really.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"My commiserations on your recent loss, Captain. I know what it is like to lose someone you love. You have my sincere sympathy."
Sheridan looked at Bester, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't tell if the Psi Cop was being serious or not. Either way, he wondered how Bester had heard about Anna's death - or were Delenn's telepathic safeguards not working?
"No," Bester provided. "They are not, but do not worry. They weren't last time either. Against another telepath, perhaps.... but not me." Sheridan started, and shot a glare at Garibaldi, who shrugged.
"There, Captain, now that both our secrets are laid bare, perhaps we can talk business. Oh, one more truth first of all. My visit to Proxima Three was not all I might have made it out to be. I had been hearing a great deal about humanity's new allies, and I was.... intrigued. I had also been hearing a great deal about you. My main intention in visiting Proxima was to scan you, and ascertain if what I had heard was correct."
Sheridan didn't like being made a fool of. "Who did you hear these things from?"
Bester smiled. "Please, Captain, allow me some little secrets. I have no wish to jeopardise certain.... individuals who are better off remaining nameless at the moment."
"Then you were not interested in me," Delenn said. Sheridan could see Bester's careful gaze on her. He wondered if he was scanning her.
"Oh yes, but as an.... interesting aside, that is all. The fact that I could not get close enough to scan you was an.... annoyance, but that is all. Sooner or later, everything comes to me."
"'All things come to him who waits'," Sheridan quoted.
"Exactly, Captain Sheridan. You are exactly correct. I had also better point out that I feel no animosity towards you for your.... treatment of me. I admire someone who feels such loyalty towards his companions. It bodes well for your future.
"And now to the conditions under which you are here, Captain. You will work for me. I have one very capable and adept captain in Ben Zayn, but a gift such as yours cannot be wasted. There will be certain.... activities which will need to be carried out.... from time to time, and if Ben Zayn is not available, or if I feel you are better suited to them, then I will ask you to perform them for me.
"In exchange I will give you and whichever members of your crew you feel most capable a place here in Sanctuary. I will protect you from the considerable ire of the Resistance Government at Proxima Three, and I will give you a chance better to serve humanity.
"We both know that those in power in Proxima are drifting away from the lofty ideals of the Earth Alliance, Captain. The urge to survive is all well and good, but there are always limits, and some in Proxima have crossed over those limits by quite a way. Perhaps we here can help humanity return to the ideals of the Earth Alliance, and perhaps not, but we can at least try."
"There are innocents at Proxima," Sheridan said coolly. "People who haven't been touched by.... people who still believe in the ideals. You can't abandon them."
"I have no intention of abandoning anyone, Captain. The Babylon will be returned to Proxima, with a few members of my staff to pilot it. As a last line of defence it is not up to much, but it is better than nothing. We have a much better ship in store for you, Captain. She is called the Parmenion. She is newer, faster and stronger than anything else we have at the moment. Captain Ben Zayn was offered first choice, but he is somewhat attached to his Ozymandias, and so we will give the Parmenion to you and Commander Corwin. Mr. Garibaldi will be able to escort you to the ship and put you in contact with its current third in command, Major Krantz."
"And what about Delenn?" Sheridan asked. He could feel her looking at him, and he gently reached out his hand, brushing his fingers against her palm. She gripped his hand tightly.
"She is a valuable resource, Captain, but I have no intention of treating her as badly as did the Resistance Government. She may stay with you on the Parmenion if she wishes, or she may stay here. If I can assemble some kind of communication with the Minbari, then she may be able to function as Ambassador.
"I would however request that my Chief Medical Officer has a look at her, so that we can determine the effects of the change."
"Dr. Kyle on the Babylon has already done that."
"And he is free to share his findings with our Dr. Hobbs. Satai Delenn, I hope you will consent to this?"
And what if she doesn't? Sheridan thought blackly, but there was no need for him to worry.
"I will be.... happy to help in any way I can," she said. She gripped his hand tighter.
"Good. Very well, Captain, Commander. That will be all. Oh, except for one thing. I gather you had a reputation on Proxima as something of a.... what is the phrase...? 'loose cannon'. I accept that you are very skilled in strategy and leadership, Captain, and I will give you the freedom to obey my orders in whatever way you see fit, but let me make this very clear.
"You will follow my instructions, Captain. You will not deviate from them, you will not abandon them. The future of the whole galaxy may rest on the events of the next few years, and I will not allow anyone to threaten that future. Any transgressions, and I assure you you will regret them. Never forget who I am or what I can do.
"Good day, Captain. Commander. Satai."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Mr. Welles had known Lyta Alexander for several years now. He had found her to be a valuable asset, if a little irresponsible in the use of her powers at times. He knew her to be competent, professional and adept in the use of her abilities.
Bruised, scarred, battered and scared were new descriptions, although he couldn't say she hadn't deserved it. Boggs had been a little extreme, but the man had just lost one of his best friends, so a little licence was in order. Besides, as far as Welles was concerned, she had done nothing to cause sympathy.
"I am very disappointed," he said, as he sat down. She looked at him. One of her eyes was puffy and bloodshot. "Very disappointed. Just one question. Why?"
She swallowed and winced. "Where.... is.... Marcus?"
"The sleepers should be at full effect by now," Welles said idly. "I'm not a telepath myself, but I have studied the use and results of these drugs. A telepath's abilities are integral to his or her existence. They make you special, make you different, make you important. Take these gifts away, and you're just like everyone else. The psychological damage must be quite severe. Like an artist who loses the use of her hands, or a musician who becomes deaf, or a soldier who becomes crippled. It takes away not just what you do, but who you are, what makes you unique and special.
"You have a rare gift, Miss Alexander. One in every ten thousand people is a telepath, is it not? Take away those whose abilities are almost useless, and you are in a very select group of people. And yet you misuse your talents. First for your own personal pleasure, as if the minds of others are your own private playground, and now, you use your power to betray your people.
"At least you have not tried to deny it. Mr. Allan has provided us with all the details. He has also been a source of knowledge about what happened on board the Babylon. He is holding some things back of course. People always do. But what he has told us so far is true. I hear so many lies that I recognise the truth when I hear it.
"And so, Miss Alexander, I have just one question. I know what you have done. I know how you have done it. I think I know why, but I just want to hear it from your lips.
"Why?"
"Where.... is.... Marcus?"
Welles steepled his fingers together and looked at her over the top of them. She did look a pitiful figure, and he would rather not have been here at all. No, he was certain that the true knowledge he sought could be found within the mind of the very Marcus Miss Alexander was asking about, but he was.... off limits. Someone else had an interest in him, and so Welles was here.
Perhaps Boggs had been too hard, after all. Welles would liked to have supervised the affair, but he had been afraid. When he had discovered Cutter's body he had lost control. He had come within an inch of killing Delenn. He had learned something very unpleasant about himself then, and he was afraid of losing control again.
There were always other ways to deal with problems than simple violence.
"I studied as a psychologist once, you know," he said conversationally. "I learned what makes people tick. Their past, their present, their childhood, their wishes, dreams, aspirations. Then came the war however, and I felt another calling. I have certain unique abilities, every bit as unique and precious as yours, and I have put them to use serving my people.
"I think I know why you helped her escape. I think it is because you have no identity of your own. I may have been reckless in allowing you to form such a bond with Satai Delenn during my interrogation of her. You latched on to whatever connection you formed with her. You.... welcomed it, you even came to need it.
"I can understand the allure. Exotic, strange, alien, fascinating, beautiful.... yes, some regard the Minbari as beautiful. But as I told you, I am a psychologist. I dig beneath the surface, and what I have seen beneath the surface of the Minbari is a race filled with pride and arrogance and delusions of their own superiority. Yes, they are powerful, but they have no idea of what to do with that power. They waste it, they abuse it.... they are content to wait, passing away their days convinced in their own power, and if anyone dares challenge them - like us - then they respond with bloody, terrible force.
"That is the race you idolise, Miss Alexander! And that is the race you have helped! Never forget what they did to Earth! And don't try and tell me that you have not lost someone you loved to them, because that would be a lie, and we both know it.
"You are of no value here. The only thing that makes you special is your gifts, and those you have misused.
"But perhaps, there is a use for you. The people, the ones you doubtless never see with your gloves and your badge and your insignia and your pride.... the people are angry and scared and worried. They want a scapegoat, an offering if you will. Something to appease the gods before the Minbari arrive.
"Satai Delenn was to be that offering, but she is gone, and so there will have to be a replacement. The Resistance Government will offer you.
"We will not meet again, Miss Alexander. Rest well, and have pleasant dreams."
Welles rose to his feet and headed for the door. He had nearly lost control for a moment, but he had managed to rein himself in. He was breathing rapidly now, anxious to be out of here. He needed to rest, needed to think, needed to control himself.
"I.... I...." Miss Alexander was trying to speak. Welles turned, and listened. "I.... was right.... I know.... I was.... right."
"Then you know nothing at all. Good day, Miss Alexander."
Welles left, and closed the door.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Ah, Lady Elrisia. A pleasure as always." Londo inclined his head in a gesture of greeting - several inches short of what would be considered polite. Lady Elrisia might have a great deal of power - she was the caretaker of the entirety of Lord Refa's estates in his, hopefully very long, absence - but that did not mean Londo had to respect her.
In a society where marriage for love was considered radical, dangerous and foolish, few marriages ended up happily, unless the participants were lucky. Londo had been anything but. Timov loathed him, Daggair was only using him for her social climbing and Mariel.... the less said about her the better. He was however lucky in one respect. It had been Refa, not he, who had married the fair Lady Elrisia.
Physically, she was very beautiful, he had to admit. Even if it was the sort of beauty that came from jars and took several hours in the morning to arrange. And Elrisia was very shrewd, very intelligent and very ambitious. Good qualities in a man, very very bad qualities in a woman, especially one whose only real purpose was to continue the noble line, and look pretty, or upon occasion join two Houses. Intelligence did not enter into it.
Elrisia had satisfied the succession side of things - she and Refa had a son, who was currently parading around in the military, hoping to impress the Narns with his dress sense, no doubt. Elrisia had provided an impressive alliance between two Houses, so that part was done. And she had attended plenty of affairs and parties looking pretty. That should be enough for any woman, but noooo. She had to want more.
"Minister Mollari," she said. "We were not expecting you in the Royal Court this morning. What brings you this far from your estates?"
"A.... little business is all. Nothing important."
"Is it connected to Lady Morella's murder? A horrible business that. I hear the murderer is in custody?"
"A.... suspect is in custody, Lady. His guilt has not yet been determined."
"Oh really? Well, we have ways of determining guilt, don't we, my dear?" She smiled at her companion.
Londo had met Cartagia a few times. Nephew of the late Emperor Turhan, Cartagia was peripherally connected to the royal line, and therefore bore watching. He was not an impressive addition to it, it had to be said. Londo half wondered whether he was still drooling - a habit from his childhood.
"Absolutely," Cartagia said. "We can rustle up a few of the palace torturers.... sorry.... pain technicians. Pain technicians? I mean what sort of a stupid name is that? Really! You wouldn't have thought the name would matter, would you, but nooooo, they're all organised, and insist they're called pain technicians. I don't know. Anyway, we can soon sort this out."
"Torture would be.... ill-advised at present, lord."
"Are you denying me my fun, Mollari? That's not very pleasant of you, is it?"
"Shut up, dear," Elrisia said calmly. Londo had never seen a member of Centauri royalty sulk before. It was quite an entertaining experience.
"My congratulations on your recent engagement," Londo said. "Where is our Emperor anyway?"
"Resting. He had quite an.... energetic night. He will be up in time for his audience with the Centarum. There is the matter of choosing a replacement for poor Urza, for one thing."
"Yes," Londo said, trying not to grit his teeth together. 'Poor Urza' had been a friend. A good friend, and if his death had been an accident, then Londo was a Jovian treeworm.
"The Emperor and I have felt that you are overburdened in your current duties, Londo," Elrisia said. "You have performed such sterling work that it didn't seem right burdening you with more responsibilities when you should be resting. You are not as young as you once were."
"My.... duties to my people keep me young, my lady. Who.... who will you recommend to the Centarum?"
"Oh, Lord Jarno has done wonderful work lately. He deserves some recognition, don't you think?"
"Of course, my lady. You are quite right." Lord Jarno? The man was an idiot! Londo remembered a speech he had given to the Centarum once. Afterwards, everyone had unanimously voted that he be sterilised in the best interests of the species. Of course, he was married to Lady Jarno, which amounted to the same thing really.
Lord Jarno was also known to gamble a little. No, he was known to gamble a lot. So did Londo, of course, but at least he knew when to quit. Lord Jarno didn't, and as a result owed quite a sum to, of all people, Lord Refa. Under Centauri law, Refa - or the holder of his estates, Lady Elrisia - would be perfectly entitled to seize Jarno's holdings as part payment of the debt. That would make him easily malleable, no?
"A fine choice," Londo agreed. He had his own suspicions about recent 'accidental' deaths on Centauri Prime, and his own suspicions about who was behind them. He was also far too old to be dodging assassination attempts all the time.
"We're very glad you approve, Londo. I am sorry, but I think it is time I went and woke the Emperor up. Good day, Londo."
"My lady. Prince Cartagia." They departed, and Londo was left to mutter angrily to himself. Women in politics! Bah! Next thing she would want to be Emperor!
He badly needed a rest. And a drink. And a game of cards. And....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Traffic in to Proxima 3 was very rare these days. The whole colony was under tight control. With the arrival of the Minbari anticipated at any moment, few wanted to go there anyway. Especially not the Narns.
The Kha'Ri had officially refused any help to Proxima - ostensibly for reasons to do with their current, and rather uneventful, war with the Centauri. In fact, the Kha'Ri recognised a losing cause when they saw one, and were more than capable of thinking up ways to destroy their own ships without throwing them in front of a very angry Minbari armada. And for those members of the Kha'Ri - such as Councillor Na'Toth - who were aware of certain.... deeper matters at work, helping a colony they might well end up having to fight at a future date did not make a great deal of sense. Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar's opinions on the matter were not recorded, but Ta'Lon knew that G'Kar would help if he could.
Who he would help was anyone's guess.
Ta'Lon would doubtless find it difficult to get into Proxima 3, especially as, if his estimates and information were correct, he would be arriving only a few hours before the Minbari. While the Resistance Government might be quite happy at the arrival of another ship, Ta'Lon would have little time to do what he needed to do.
He had been out of contact with most of G'Kar's agents for some time. Epsilon 3 had been silent, the Centauri aide with access to the Grey Council provided what little he could, and the agents among the Non-Aligned Worlds knew little of importance outside their own little areas.
As such Ta'Lon knew nothing about recent events on Proxima. He did not know about Satai Delenn's transformation and escape. He did not know of Captain Sheridan's defection. He did not know just how deeply the Resistance Government had given itself over to the Darkness.
What he did know was that he had a duty to his friend, to pass on one last message to his beloved. Neroon had met a warrior's end, a fitting death, and so Ta'Lon was left with his legacy.
And so he came to Proxima.... a world of darkness and deep night.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Corwin was impressed by the Parmenion. As he and the Captain were shown around by Major Krantz, he took special notice of the ship's unique features.
It was a heavy class destroyer ship, a similar type to the Babylon. The Babylon, however, had undergone so many upgrades, conversions and last minute botch-job repairs over the years that it was, quite literally, in a class of its own. The Parmenion was newer, cleaner, fitter and far readier.
"The crew have been trained and drilled extensively," Krantz was saying. "They're looking forward to meeting you. They're the best Mr. Bester can find. Some of them are.... soldiers of fortune of a sort...."
"You mean mercenaries," Corwin provided darkly.
"They fight for us. They fight for Mr. Bester. What does it matter how much they're being paid? Most of the crew is human, but there are a few aliens - Narns mainly. Some secret elements in the Narn military have been working quite closely with Mr. Bester. Some of the Kha'Ri are quite interested in his work here in Sanctuary and have been funding our activities."
"How come Proxima's never heard about any of this?" Corwin asked.
"They have. A little, anyway. Mr. Bester has lent them support from time to time. They just don't know the specifics, that's all. We'll operate more in the open when the right time comes. A few members of the Non-Aligned Worlds know about us. We've been having a few skirmishes lately with a race called the Streibs. Not very nice people at all.
"You'll have a chance to meet the bridge crew soon enough, but there's someone special you ought to meet first."
Krantz stopped at a door, and activated the bell. A few moments later it opened, and a very young woman stepped out. Corwin blinked and then looked at her. She was wearing typical Psi Corps clothing - dark and utilitarian, with black gloves and the Psi Corps insignia. She couldn't have been much more than sixteen.
"Alisa Beldon," she said, introducing herself. "Telepath rating P eight. So far. Primary telepath aboard the Parmenion."
Corwin shook her hand and introduced himself. The Captain did likewise.
"I'm glad to have met you, Captain Sheridan," she said. "I remember hearing the news about the Black Star. I was only seven at the time, but I remember the partying and...."
"You're making me feel old," Sheridan grumbled. Corwin couldn't help but smile. He'd been fifteen during the Black Star victory.
"Will you be at the bridge later?" the Captain asked. "I have a speech I'd like to give."
"Of course, Captain." She smiled again, and bowed, both at the Captain and Corwin. Corwin caught a hint of a dazzling smile, and then the door closed and he looked back at Major Krantz.
"What's a telepath doing on a ship like this?"
"All of the ships here at Sanctuary have at least one telepath on board. You never know where they might come in useful."
"I wouldn't have thought Bester would place his telepaths in danger like that. And isn't she a little young for a P eight?"
"There were certain.... experiments carried out on a lot of early adolescents. It heightened and accelerated their abilities. Telepaths are a valuable resource after all, and the art of leadership is appropriate use of your resources. Wouldn't you say, Captain?"
"Hmmm? Oh yes. Quite right."
"Sir?" Corwin asked. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. Just.... going over my good luck speech."
"Your what?"
"My good luck speech. It's a.... personal tradition. I give a good luck speech within twenty-four hours of taking on a new command. With everything that's been happening lately I think I deserve the luxury of at least one old habit."
"I never heard about a good luck speech."
"Well, I've been on the Babylon for so long that I've never needed to do one. I just.... I don't know. I just need some sort of link to the past."
"Oh. Well. I'm looking forward to hearing it."
"I wouldn't look so smug, Commander," Krantz said. "The crew will probably want a few words from you as well."
"Me? But that's.... that's.... I'm no orator. I just.... ah...."
"Don't worry, David," the Captain chuckled. "It's not as hard as it looks. Assuming I get this bit. Damn! I've got out of practice in giving it."
"Don't worry, sir," Krantz said. "You've got at least an hour or two to remember."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

If anyone had walked into the Royal Court at that moment, they would doubtless have been outraged to see Lady Elrisia reclining on the Imperial Throne itself. The Throne was for the Emperor only. Oh, sometimes his First Minister sat there while receiving audience when the Emperor was away, or busy, but still.... there were matters of protocol to consider. None of Emperor Turhan's wives had ever so much as contemplated sitting on the Imperial Throne. (Well except for his first wife in that unfortunate incident with the Drazi Ambassador and the 'live' banquet - apparently caused by the overuse of the colour purple in the decorations.)
Lady Elrisia clearly had no such compunctions. As far as she was concerned, she could sit wherever she liked. The future Empress could do whatever she liked.
Officially speaking, there was no title of Empress. The Emperor's wives were always called by the simple title of Lady - albeit with more respect than was given to a noble's wife. Elrisia was planning on changing that. She was planning on changing a lot of things.
"Did you hear the way he spoke to me? It was an outrage, I am telling you! An outrage. I have a mind to have him flogged!"
"Cartagia dear. Shut up." Elrisia was getting very tired of his infantile prattlings. If it weren't for the fact that Marrit was even more tedious and boring, she would probably be with him. She was, after all, going to be his future wife, and Empress.
Empress Elrisia. She liked the sound of it.
But as always, there was a problem. Said problem being Londo Mollari.
He was an anachronism. An 'old guard'. You only had to look at his hair and hear his accent to understand that. He still believed in the 'good old days' of Centauri power. The good old days were gone. Elrisia planned on creating the good new days.
And if it weren't for people like Londo and her dear husband always standing in the way, she'd have a far far easier time of it.
And she had been trying. A number of assassination attempts had had to be aborted, but she had been certain her gas booby trap in his carriage a few weeks ago would work. It had certainly cost her enough. But no, Londo had escaped that one as well.
"How does he do it?" she asked herself. "He must have all the Gods in the pantheon on his side. How can anyone who gambles so badly be so lucky?"
"Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later," Cartagia said.
Elrisia thought about this, and smiled. "Do you know, that's the first intelligent thing you've said all day. Congratulations."
Suddenly, her personal communicator activated. A fascinating little device, used by Ministers and high ranking military officers to keep in touch. She had managed to appropriate one for her own use. She listened to the message, and then smiled widely.
"How prophetic of you, Cartagia," she said. "It appears that Minister Mollari has just met with an.... unfortunate accident. His personal carriage - a replacement for the last one, I suppose - exploded on his way back to his estates. A problem with the engine, I suppose. The manufacturers really should get these things looked at better, don't you think?"
Cartagia smiled. He actually looked halfway intelligent when he did.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"When I was twenty-one, I went on a journey to Tibet to see the new Dalai Lama. It made sense at the time. A lot of things do when you're twenty-one. We had a simple meal.... I forget what it was. And afterwards, he looked at me and he said:
"'Do you understand?'
"And I said, 'No.' He simply smiled and said, 'Good. You will be even wiser when you know what it is that you do not understand.'
"The Dalai Lama may be gone. Tibet, the Himalayas, Earth.... they may all be gone, but they live on in our minds and hearts and souls, and in our memories. Someone.... very dear to me once told me something. 'Love holds no borders.' If love does hold no borders, then neither should memories, neither should hopes or dreams or aspirations. We have all lost a great deal, and we have all suffered.
"It is likely that we will suffer more and lose more. It is likely that we may not return one day. It is likely that our enemies are stronger than we are.
"I don't really know any of you, and none of you knows me, but this I can promise you. I have spent the whole of my life serving Earth. Just because Earth is gone, that does not mean that we have to stop believing in what it meant for us as a people. Earth survives in each and every one of us, and I will serve Earth - and of all you - in the same way I always have.
"I can make no guarantee that I will be able to keep you alive, and anyone who says they can is lying. This galaxy doesn't allow for guarantees. I can promise you, however, that I will do all that is in my power in the name of Earth, and of humanity.
"It was an early Earth president who said.... who said.... damn! What did he say?"
Sheridan floundered, and was greeted with chuckles of laughter from the bridge. "All right," he said, holding up his hands. "So I've forgotten what he said. It just goes to show how much I will be relying on all of you, and how much we will all be relying on each other. Myself and Commander Corwin are new to this ship and to you, but we are ready and willing to do our best by you, by Earth and by humanity."
Sheridan finished and was met with enthusiastic, if reserved applause. He looked around at the bridge and smiled, one of the first, warmest smiles Corwin had seen on him in a long while. Corwin smiled too.
"I wouldn't be too happy," the Captain whispered to him. "It's your turn now."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval was in the strange mood that always gripped him in the buildup to a major campaign. Impatient, energetic and excited. Almost like a child on his way to temple for the first time. He was aware that he was now spiritual, political and emotional centre of the Minbari people and that such emotions were.... unbecoming to one of his rank, and so he spent much of his time in the Hall of the Council, staring at the sight of the fleet he was gathering all around him.
The fleet numbered in the hundreds. Capital ships, the new White Star class ships, flyers.... There were some who spoke out - in places where they didn't think he could hear them, of course - against committing such a fleet to this battle. After all, there were only humans to deal with. What defences did Proxima 3 have? One heavy class starship, a number of medium and smaller class ships, and possibly a few Narn allies. Oh, yes. And the Starkiller.
But there were a few people on Minbar who knew the truth. Sinoval, the Grey Council, Ambassador Refa and his aide, and a handful of Sinoval's most trusted Rangers.
Proxima 3 had a handful more defences than just that. They had the Enemy as well.
Ambassador Refa had provided evidence that the humans had made a deal with the Enemy. The exact details of this deal were unknown, but that did not matter. For the past eight cycles, ever since the sight of that first Shadow ship under the sands of the red planet, the Grey Council had known that this day would come. The enemy was returning, and the Great War spoken of by Valen was about to start.
The Minbari were ready. Whereas they might have fallen into apathy and endless waiting for signs that never came, Sinoval had brought them around. Action would be taken. The warrior caste would lead the Great War, the Holy War, as was right, and Sinoval.... he would be at their forefront. His name would sound out with the greatest Minbari of history. He would stand alongside Valen, and Varmain, and Dukhat in history....
Sinoval slowly left the Hall of the Council. He no longer even noticed the breach of tradition, and cared not at all.
He found the person he was looking for in a private meeting with Kalain, the warrior raised to Satai after Delenn's disappearance and disgrace. Kalain greeted him with a bow, as did his companion.
"Shai Alyt Tryfan," Sinoval said.
"Holy One. This is an honour...."
Kalain bowed again, and then left. He knew that two of the oldest of friends would want to be alone.
Tryfan hesitated for a moment, but then Sinoval made the gesture of affection and greeting, an extension of the arm, a bowing of the head. Tryfan smiled and responded.
"Everything is ready, Tryfan?" Sinoval asked. "No, what am I saying? Of course it is."
"My ship is in perfect order, Holy One. We are more than ready."
"What is your opinion of these new White Stars? There has been little time for testing."
"They are fine ships, Holy One. Fast, and yet powerful. With just three of these, I could cleave a path through the Earthers' last base."
"But it will not just be the Earthers we must deal with, old friend."
Tryfan bowed his head. "No."
Sinoval regarded his old friend. Tryfan had been one of the greatest warriors of his generation. As a young, promising warrior, he had served on the Trigati when Sinoval had captained it during the assault on Earth. He had seen the warrior's conviction and dedication and had recommended his name to Branmer when the Rangers were formed. Tryfan had joined, and had soon advanced to the heights of the Rangers. Durhan had trained him well, but had made a disturbing recommendation. Tryfan's skills with pike and sword were exemplary, but he was touched by a pride and a darkness that ran deep to his core. Sinoval had seen this as well, but still believed that Tryfan's darkness could be excised. Durhan's words had effectively removed Tryfan from the running when it came to choosing a replacement for Branmer as Entil'zha - the position now held by Sinoval himself. Sinoval had never ceased to believe in his friend, though, and had named Tryfan Shai Alyt, giving him a unit of White Stars to command.
"Which ship is yours?" Sinoval asked.
"White Star Nine. The Valen."
"Nine? A good omen."
"Perhaps. Will you be with us, Holy One?"
"Of course, Tryfan. I have always led from the front."
"Forgive me, but.... is that wise? You cannot risk jeopardising yourself. We cannot lose you as we did Dukhat."
"I have no intention of being lost, Tryfan. Valen's hand is upon me. I have nothing to fear.
"None of us has anything to fear."