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| Volume 3: A Line in the Sand | Part IV: A Line in the Sand |
IT was over.
The Shadow ships had departed now, at least those that had survived the colossal explosion that had claimed the Great Machine and the entirety of Epsilon 3. Some of them had been consumed by it, but most had survived. They had done what they had come for, and so they left.
Most of the other ships had managed to escape also, although a terrible toll had been exacted on those who had failed. A huge mass of metal, rock, the cries of the dead.... They all hung together, a testament to the futility of their deaths.
Alone in the middle of the desolation, the temporal rift was still shining. It was shaking and trembling, but it was still open. A lifeline to the past, a prayer for the future.
Somewhere within that rift lay the reason for all the bloodshed. No one knew how long it would remain open, or whether there would be enough time for those inside it to reach their destination.
And somewhere, out amidst the devastation of the battlefield, there lay the body of one Captain John Sheridan.
* * * * * * *
It was two years in the past, and he was younger then. He was still alive as well, uninfected by the terminal virus implanted by Deathwalker, his wife still alive, still a champion of his people, a hero.
John Sheridan knew nothing of his destiny as he walked slowly across the docking bays of the station he knew had never been built. He was troubled and concerned, and still only gradually warming to the presence of the woman at his side: Delenn, still Satai of the Minbari, still fully Minbari, she had not yet gone through her ordeal caught between races, or the horrors of the Drakh occupation of Kazomi 7, or the sight of her beloved Minbar in ruins.
They were expected, and both parties were secretly waiting and watching. Susan Ivanova, accompanied by invisible mentors who whispered to her in her mind. She knew what she had to do, but she also knew who was to blame. Sheridan had.... betrayed her. He had killed Anna, and she had liked Anna, really truly liked her. And yet her masters were telling her that Sheridan was to be kept alive. Another was the true threat.
It was all very confusing.
And the others, Valen and Zathras and the remainder of their Narn bodyguard - they were making for the docking bays, waiting for the help they knew would arrive. Valen wanted something more than help, however. He wanted to see one person who had shown him a great deal, and helped him, ever so slightly, to accept his destiny.
John Sheridan suddenly cried out and reeled back against the wall. Delenn caught him, but he seemed to be muttering something to himself. Valen sighed, and stepped back. He knew what it was. A time flash, a temporal jump, to relive events from the past or to experience brief glimpses of the future. They had all been witnessing such phenomena when the station had been orbiting Epsilon 3. Now they had their temporal stability discs, which should protect them from such things.
Sheridan blinked and started, resting against the wall. "What happened?" Delenn asked him.
"I.... I don't know. I was reliving my wedding. It's like I was there, but it was nine years ago. I don't understand."
Valen breathed out slowly, and went forward to his destiny. Zathras walked beside him, but Ta'Lon and the other Narns remained in the shadows. There was no telling what might be waiting. "It's been happening to all of us," Valen said, walking towards them. "Flashes, forwards or back." Sheridan's eyes were narrowing, but he did not reach for a weapon. He looked.... so very different. But then, Valen had seen him only seldom two years in the future.
"Greetings, both of you. I welcome you to this place." Delenn gasped softly. Ah, she knew now. "I am called Valen."
Sheridan shook his head, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of the figure by Valen's side. "Zathras! But.... what are you doing here? You stayed on the planet with G'Kar!"
"Ah, no, Captain. Zathras is being very sorry, but Zathras last seen you many years ago, yes. Time has passed, yes. Much time. In your years...."
"Zathras!" snapped Valen. Sheridan and Delenn were not to know. They deserved some hope for the future at least.
"Ah yes, Zathras know, Zathras not supposed to talk about time. Zathras not supposed to talk about anything. Zathras supposed to shut up. Zathras is being shutting up. There. Zathras is shut up."
"I thank you both for coming," Valen repeated, ignoring his companion's tantrum. "We need your help, but first you have to understand. You have to...."
Sheridan blinked, and cried out.
There was a blur of movement, and a hissing, screaming noise. Valen started and turned. Ta'Lon burst from the shadows, his sword flashing. There was a burst of PPG fire. Valen staggered back. "They're here," he whispered. He could see Delenn directly in front of him. She was trying to grab Sheridan, who was shaking in the grip of another time flash.
"Shadows here," Zathras snapped. "We be going now. Very quickly."
Something shimmered into view just in front of them. Reaching out, Valen seized hold of Delenn's sleeve and began to run in the direction of the corridor. Zathras followed, sniping around their heels. Ta'Lon moved to help Sheridan, but the shimmering form of the emerging Shadows cut him off. There was a hint of a human moving as well.
The four of them managed to reach the corridor, Ta'Lon and his Narns trying to hold off the Shadow attack as the others gained ground. "We cannot just leave him," Delenn was saying.
"They won't kill him," he reassured her. "It's me they want - me and you. You have to understand, Delenn. There's a lot I have to show you, and not much time. You told me about this, and now I have to do what you said I did. I have to...."
She blinked, and was lost to him. She stiffened, and would have fallen if he had not caught her. Holding her as best he could, he continued to run. "Time flash," Zathras said. "This is.... not good. Very strange also. Should not be happening this often. Perhaps.... temporal rift is not working as well as it should. Zathras is not being liking the sound of that, no."
"You are not alone," Valen replied. "But we can do nothing about that now."
They stopped running at last, and waited to catch their breath. Delenn remained under the spell of the time flash, and he began to worry. This was too long. "What is happening to her?" he asked Zathras.
"Is.... difficult to tell, with truth. Rift is not acting as it should. Not that Zathras can tell for sure, though, since Zathras has never been back in time before, but.... this should not be happening."
"Maybe the battle is going badly."
"Is one possibility, yes. Is not very pleasant possibility. Is...."
Delenn stirred. "Valen's Name," she whispered. Her eyes opened and she looked around, confused.
"It was bad, wasn't it?" he asked. "I've never seen anyone down for that long."
She raised her hands to her forehead, and felt carefully around the edges of her bone crest. "Was.... was that an image of what will happen, or of what might happen?"
"We don't know," he replied. "We've all had images of the past, images that were surprisingly accurate." He remembered uncomfortably the sound of Marrain's last words to him, witnessed in a time flash just before the station entered the rift. Another failure brought home to him. "Of the future.... none of us can be certain."
"I saw.... I saw...."
"Don't tell me, Delenn," he said swiftly. "I must not know. It is not for me to know." One more hint of a future he would never see. One more unanswered question.
"You know my name," she suddenly breathed in wonder. "You.... know my name."
"Of course," he replied smiling. "And you know mine. Or you will. We brought this station from your future, to take it a thousand years into the past. I wrote myself a letter then, telling myself of what will happen." He had, a letter brought to him by Kosh when he arrived at the station. How Kosh had obtained it, he had no idea. He had read it, and was disheartened. It told him things he already knew, but it did something to assuage his doubts, even if only a little.
"I wrote you a letter as well, although I don't know whether you ever received it. I came here for your help, Delenn - yours and Sheridan's. Now I think I may have come here to help you. Do you know what you have to do?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes. I saw it.... but.... will my actions bring about what I have seen?"
"I don't know, Delenn. As I told you once, my place lies with the future no longer, but with the past. That is, of course, if we ever make it there."
"What has happened?"
"We were ready to launch this station when the Enemy attacked. It was a hard battle, but we managed to get away. I.... don't know what happened to my friends who were defending us. Some of the enemy made it aboard and have been trying to kill me. If they do, then the past will be doomed, and so will all of us. I came here hoping to gain your help, but the enemy have proven to be too strong for us."
"Then it was you who sent the message?"
He blinked, and prepared to tell just another lie, one of the few he hoped he would ever have to tell her. He was beginning to realise why he had been brought to this time. He was practically becoming a Vorlon, and he hated it. "What message? No, we were unable to get into the main control centre."
They had to see, both of them. Sheridan and Delenn had to see what lay before them, where their destinies led. Delenn had to be prepared for her exile, hence the use of her title Zha'valen. Both of them had a hard road ahead, and they had to be prepared for it.
"We received a message asking for myself and Captain Sheridan to come over here, and to come alone. It must have been a trap.... They have him!"
"Delenn, Sheridan is a.... clever man. I am sure he...."
"No. I know it. They have him. The Enemy has him!"
And they did. Valen knew that for a fact. He wished he did not have to lie to them, he wished he could share something of what he knew to be coming for them, he wished.... he wished so much....
* * * * * * *
There was the clash of metal against metal, the strain of muscles, the beating of hearts.... Londo staggered back, wiping at his eyes in desperation. Who would have thought he had become so old? The time had been when he could fight all day and carouse all night.
Cartagia smiled. "Growing old, Mollari? And you thought to rule. How can you rule our Republic when you cannot even stand for a few minutes?"
He was right. May all the Gods damn him, but he was right. Cartagia was a far younger man, whose days of wine, women and song had yet to catch up with him. He was fitter, stronger, and possessed of a remarkable inner fortitude. He also had been eating well these last few days, and had not spent them chained to a dank cell well.
Cartagia drifted forward, his kutari flickering in his hand like a living thing. It sliced through the already-torn sleeve of Londo's jacket and drew a red line across his forearm. Spinning on his heel, the Prince delivered an elbow jab to Londo's jaw, and he fell. Again.
"Get up, Mollari. I'm not finished with you yet. Or has Elrisia been sapping too much of your strength?"
"I've only seen her once since I got back to the capital," he panted, staggering up. Keep him talking, find some way to gather time, to breathe.
"Ah yes. When she took you to see our madman chained in the cellar. Did you enjoy the vision he showed you, hmm? The death of our world. The death of all worlds, perhaps. Who can say?"
"What? You've.... seen it, too. Then.... why have you...." Londo was trying to breathe, but it was becoming more and more difficult. "Why...?"
"Because, my dear Mollari. The ultimate answer to everything. Because." He stepped forward. "Are you ready to resume yet? I can wait a bit longer if you'd prefer."
"There he is!" cried a new voice, and Londo struggled to lift his head. Two soldiers had burst into the room. He could not be sure whether they were loyalist guardsmen or part of Valo's attack force. The fighting had apparently drifted away from this area of the palace building.
"Return to your posts," Cartagia said, bored.
"Not likely," one of them snarled. He raised a small hand-held energy pistol, a weapon usually carried by bodyguards to the nobles in addition to their fanciful rapiers.
Cartagia smiled and raised his arm. There was a blur of movement as he threw his sword at the guard. Crimson blood seemed to rain from the soldier's throat as the sword pinned him against the wall. His companion was slow to react, and by the time he managed to do anything Cartagia had drawn his own energy pistol and shot him squarely in the head.
"How tiresome," he muttered, drifting over to the body of the first soldier and pulling his kutari free. "You'd think Valo would have sent more than two, wouldn't you? Oh, but then again, maybe not. I've cultivated somewhat of an air of.... ah.... weakness, these last few months. What better way to hide your true intentions, hmm, Mollari?"
His back was still to Londo. There was a chance now. One brief chance. Londo started forward, running as fast as he could, raising his own sword in front of him.
Cartagia spun, kicking out in one fluid motion, striking Londo in the belly. Crying out, Londo fell back helpless as Cartagia delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of his head that sent him sprawling.
"That was hardly sportsmanlike, Mollari. Maybe you have learned something on your travels after all. Good. You might make a fine Emperor yet, albeit not for very long."
"What.... do.... you.... mean?" he whispered, trying to stay conscious. His hearts were pounding.
"Oh, look around you, Mollari. You're going to win this. Everyone knows that, because all the morons out there have been too busy scrambling around trying to deal with each other. Their ambitions are not high enough, you see. Only you, I and Elrisia actually realised the true prize.... and once I'm gone, Elrisia will never get anywhere. She's the most hated woman in the Republic."
Londo felt sick, but he tried to stagger to his feet. His sword was so heavy.
"No.... you were always going to win. It was just a matter of time. I saw that a long while ago. I was the only one who could have beaten you to the throne, and there was a time when I thought I'd want to do that, but.... no.... Not any more."
"Why.... not?"
"Ah. You know your problem, Mollari? You're an optimist, an idealist, a romantic even. I, on the other hand.... I see the truth. We're a dying people, a doomed people. We can't keep control of our outer colonies, the Narns are banging at our door, we've lost almost all our allies, our leaders are too busy fighting amongst themselves, there will be a rebellion from the peasants any time now.... and now these Shadow Criers and their future of holocaust.
"The Republic will be finished before the century's over, Mollari. I know that, and so do you. Who wants to be known as the Emperor who guided us into oblivion? Not me. No.... far better to be known another way, don't you think? I'll be the man who fought you for the throne, and damned near won.... and every day from now until the end, people will wonder.... what if I'd won? How different would things have been if I'd been made Emperor instead of you? We'd both know there would be nothing I could have done to prevent this end, no more than you.... but they won't know that, and each and every one of those sheep we rule will wonder.... what if?
"And that, my dear Mollari.... is the greatest form of immortality any man can ask for."
"Won't.... be like.... that...."
"That idealism again. You're blind, Mollari! And a fool. I suppose it's just as well for me that you are. If you weren't, then you'd be in my place now. And that would be very unpleasant for me. Come on, Mollari.... pick up your sword."
"Damn.... you.... Cartagia."
"Damned? Oh no. I'll be canonised. You, my friend, will be the one to be damned."
Londo took a halting step forward. He could hardly keep his grip on the hilt.
"I'm most disappointed in you, Mollari. Your good friend Dugari was on his feet after more than this. But then, Elrisia was never as refined at pain as I."
"Du....gari...."
"Keep your blade up, Mollari."
There was a flurry of movement, and Cartagia charged. He made no effort to strike Londo. He did not need to. Instinctively Londo's sword rose up, and Cartagia literally ran onto it. He fell backwards, his own sword falling.
"Proud.... of you.... Emperor.... Mollari," he whispered, blood trickling from between his lips. "My.... congrat....ulations."
With a sigh and a smile, he closed his eyes.
* * * * * * *
Memories were slowly awakening within her. Thoughts and emotions trapped for months, even years. Ever since her confrontation with Marcus and Lyta at the Battle of the Second Line she had been locked within her own mind, a prisoner of forces beyond her control.
But then, hadn't that always been the case? Psi Corps, her mother's memory, her brother's useless death, her father's futile act of rebellion, choosing to stay on Earth even though he knew the danger. Susan Ivanova had always been trapped and bound by forces outwith her control.
For a moment she thought of Laurel. She had.... died, hadn't she? Yes.... she was dead. She'd been a prisoner as well, although she had never realised it until her death.
The Shadows hissed at her angrily. She was their prisoner now, but at least they.... seemed to.... care. What they wanted here.... they wanted it for their own ends, but she would benefit as well. All of humanity would. They had explained it to her. She had to know, they reasoned. And now she did, and he had to know too.
A new humanity, a new destiny. So much would not have happened. Anna would still be alive, and Laurel, and her brother, and.... and Marcus.
And it all came down to one man. Kill him, kill the traitor to humanity.... and it would all be over. So simple.
But for one tiny detail.
"I know," she whispered to her eternal guardians. "There's a Vorlon. It's coming here."
Sheridan stirred. He seemed to be stabilising in time. He had been under a lot of strain recently. Too much. Her guardians seemed to be content. Maybe they were winning the battle, and none of this was necessary?
"Wake up, John," she said, trying to put some warmth into her voice. She failed, but then the thought of Satai Delenn angered her. She.... remembered what Delenn had become. A mockery of everything her brother had died for. "Your Minbari whore's coming for you, and him as well. He's coming too."
"Who.... who are you talking about?" He tried to rise again, and managed to hook his arm over a handrail and haul himself up. Susan watched him, thinking about Anna. She had loved this man, and he had betrayed her.
"I don't suppose she told you, did she? No, truthfulness and honesty are not particularly big Minbari virtues, whatever they like to tell anyone. Minbari do not lie, they say. Maybe not, but they never tell anyone the whole truth either.
"What do you know about Valen?"
Before today she had hardly known anything herself, but they had told her all she needed to know.
"Minbari.... not born of Minbari," Sheridan muttered.
"So, maybe she does tell you something after all? Pillow talk, perhaps. Yes, Valen was Minbari not born of Minbari. He was human in fact. A human from this time who used some machine to change himself into a Minbari, and took this station backwards in time to the last war against my people, where he led the Vorlons and the Minbari and all the other perfect little races to victory.
"And imagine our surprise when we discovered all of this. Imagine our surprise when we realised that all we had to do was kill one man and we'd win the war then. The Minbari would be finished and...." She paused, her tone of voice changing, becoming more.... soft, more human.
"Think about it, John! If we kill Valen now, then the Minbari will be destroyed. A thousand years ago! No Minbari, no Battle of the Line, no destruction of Earth. None of this will have happened. You'll still have your Anna. I'll still have my mother. Everything can be so much better."
And then a coldness swept across her mind, and she stiffened. What was the point? He wouldn't listen. They knew that. They had told her as much. "But no. Don't bother answering. I know you. You're worse now than you will be in the future. I know you won't help me, at least not willingly.
"They're coming for you. Your little Minbari whore and the one who betrayed us all, the entire human race, by becoming one of them. They're going to come for you, and we're going to kill them."
"Delenn...." he rasped. "No...." He stumbled forward and fell, blinking, his body swallowed in the mist.
Susan sighed. Another time flash. How many was that? What was he seeing? Past, future.... what? She briefly wished she could share his visions. Oh, to know the future, to know if she would be successful here, that would be....
She turned, warned by her guardians. They began to shimmer into view, just as Valen appeared at the far side of the hall.
He stopped, and stood stock still.
* * * * * * *
"Mollari! Mollari!"
Valo was furious. He was also bleeding profusely. Cartagia. That complete madman Cartagia. What was he up to? What...?
"Aaagh!" Valo continued limping forward. Two of his soldiers were at his side, helping him. He knew both of them well, had done since the Immolan campaign. Good men, both of them. They deserved better than to be led by that feeble-minded Cartagia, or the rest of the weak Court.
And Malachi was still alive. That was the worst bit, but.... ah well. He was an old man, and would probably die from his injuries. And Valo's forces still controlled the majority of the palace compound as well. They would track down Cartagia soon enough. And then.... he didn't know. What would that bastard do if he had Valo in his power?
He dreaded to think.
"Mollari! Where are you?"
This was absurd. Carn had been given an express task. He was to stay at the back, co-ordinating things from the central base. He would receive reports on which nobles had been killed, which areas of the palace had been taken and so forth. Carn was a loyal man, so where in the Gods' Names was he?
"Mollari!"
"Here I am, Lord." Carn came into view from a nearby doorway. Valo recognised it as leading into a large barracks. Carn must have moved the base there. Perhaps there had been more wounded than they had expected.
"I need a medic, and quickly. Cartagia.... got to me."
"Yes, in here, Lord. Hurry."
Limping forward as fast as he could, supported by his two companions, Valo made for the door and entered the room. It was a typical barracks, a place where the Palace Guards slept, rested and did.... whatever it was they did when they were not on duty. This one was just like every other barracks room Valo had seen, except for one small detail.
Most of the other barracks did not contain Lord-General Marrago, accompanied by twelve soldiers bearing the seal of the island of Selini.
"Valo. I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but we take what we are given, hmm?"
"Marrago! What are you doing here? Mollari, what is the meaning of...?"
"I arrived here a few moments ago, accompanied by as many of the Selini Guard and militia from Gallia and Sphodria as we could muster. I will give them credit. There were more than I had anticipated. They must be grateful that we saved their cities. And now we will save the capital. You will stand down your weapons, and your men."
"Joking, of course, Marrago. Join me. The Republic needs strength, you can see that. We're both soldiers, and we were both betrayed by this Court. You know what the Republic needs."
"Yes, I do." Marrago stepped forward slowly. "And the Republic does not need you. You will issue an order to your men to stand down, now."
"No! The Court is ours now. I will rule here. I...." Marrago reached out and struck him hard across the face. Valo fell sprawling, crying out as his wound tore open again. His two guards went for their weapons, but Marrago's Selini Guard trained theirs on them. They paused.
"You will issue that order, Valo."
"Mollari.... help me. What.... what are you...?"
"I'm.... sorry, my Lord, but I was with the Lord-General from the beginning. I had hoped matters would not go this far, but...." Carn bowed his head. "I am sorry, my Lord."
"Damn you, Mollari! Damn.... you!"
"You will recall your men now. You will give them all an order to stand down their arms and report to me personally. I assure you, Valo, that only the commanders will be held responsible for what has happened here today. Those soldiers who were merely following orders.... they will be permitted to rejoin their regiments. The divisions within this Court, and this Republic.... they all end today.
"We should not be fighting each other, Valo."
"We.... needed.... strength."
"And we shall have it. But not under you. You brought only chaos and anarchy. Issue that order."
"You will.... protect.... my men...?"
"Yes, Valo. You have my word as a soldier, and as a General. Only the commanders and those who refuse to stand down will be punished."
"Damn you, Marrago.... and.... damn you.... Mollari.... I will.... give.... your order...."
Marrago nodded, smiling.
* * * * * * *
The heavens opened, blazing with a myriad of colours. For some the sight might be a thing of beauty, an image to inspire words and verse and more things of beauty.
Not for Sonovar. Like the man who had trained him, one of the few things they had in common.... like Sinoval, Sonovar was no poet.
He could see them all. Minbari warships, led by those who had sworn fealty to Sinoval, some of those ships that had been assigned to guard and protect the other worlds. There were the Soul Hunter ships, for so long instruments of fear to the Minbari. It was ironic that they would now be bringing salvation.
And there was Cathedral, the massive vessel that housed the Soul Hunters and their souls.... and their Primarch.
"There are many of them, my lord," spoke Forell, at his side. "More than us, perhaps?"
"Numerically, yes," Sonovar acknowledged. "But then I knew that when I started this. The relative firepower of the Tak'cha and the Shagh Toth has yet to be determined, however, and I would rather not test it out here. We have done what we came for, after all. No, there will be no battle here today."
"Then, with respect, lord.... why are we still here?"
Sonovar threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Forell, you are no warrior. You have no courage, and that is why your caste could never truly rule. There is something to show.... Primarch Sinoval. I will show him the lengths great men will go to.... for victory."
He fell silent as two Tak'cha ships blazed forward. They were smaller than a Minbari capital ship, but larger than one of the Shagh Toth carriers. These vessels were designed for transport more than battle, after all.
The nearest Minbari warship fired. Sonovar could not identify it, which was a pity. He would have liked to be able to say a prayer for the soul of its captain.
The Tak'cha ships swivelled in space, dodging the blasts. Moving with startling speed, they shot forward. And with an explosion Sonovar could see but not hear, they crashed directly into the warship.
"Hear me, Sinoval!" he roared, knowing that his message would be sent to his enemy. "Everyone and everything who follows you, I will destroy! All you love, I will destroy! Your ships will be torn apart, and your worlds sown with salt!
"And your Shagh Toth demons.... them I will annihilate utterly. You are a dead man walking, Sinoval, as are all those you love, and all those you lead."
He stood back, ending the signal. Jump points opened, and his entire fleet fled into hyperspace. Sinoval would not try to follow. He was too experienced a warrior for that. A battle commenced in anger was a battle lost from the instant it started.
"A victory, my lord," observed Forell drily.
"Yes," he admitted, smiling. "A victory, but a beginning only. It is very far from over."
And on the pinnacle of his castle of the winds on Cathedral, standing above the space from which Sonovar and his ships had just fled, Primarch Sinoval was silent, looking at the devastated wreckage of the Hosigeru.
"I heard your words," he said softly, his eyes dark. "You will kill all I love, hmm? Ah, but Sonovar.... there is no one I love."
* * * * * * *
Londo looked at the throne before him, draped in the Imperial purple. How many had died for that strip of cloth and that uncomfortable-looking chair? He hobbled forward to it and ran his hands across the fabric.
Then he snorted and turned, trying to remember the way to Malachi's quarters. He had lived in the Court for most of his life, but it had never felt so alien to him as it did now.
There was the sound of movement off in a corner. "Who is there?" Londo barked, hoping his voice was sterner than he felt.
"Minister Mollari?" said a frightened voice, and a stumbling figure came out from behind the purple drapes. "It's me.... You remember me, don't you? Vir Cotto. I was Ambas.... I mean, Emperor Refa's attaché on Minbar."
"Vir! Yes, I remember you. I hadn't heard anything about you for months. I'd supposed you were dead. It is.... good to know that you are not. Have you heard anything from.... our other friend recently?"
"No. No, not a word. Interstellar communications have been down for a long time, apart from some special ministerial business. Emperor Refa made me a Runner for the Court and, well...."
"Yes, yes. We will have time to talk later. Which.... which way is it to...?"
There was the sound of more movement from behind him and Londo spun, as easily as he was able to, anyway. A lot of movement this time.
"Greetings, Londo," said a familiar voice, one he had never expected to hear here. "We have taken the capital. It is.... pacified and united."
"Marrago! What are you doing here? You were to stay behind in Gallia and Sphodria. You...." Behind him there were a great many soldiers, some Londo recognised from the Selini Guard, others from the palace itself.
"Your wife persuaded me otherwise. A most forceful woman."
"Oh, I know," he said, with a hint of pride. "What is the.... what is the state of things here, then?"
"Lord Valo is under arrest, and his men have been recalled. Valo's commanders are to answer for their actions, but his men will not be punished. There will be considerable leeway, I think, to explain today's events. A task that will fall to you, Majesty."
"Good. Is there any fighting still.... what did you call me?"
"Yes, Majesty. Some of Valo's men have refused to accept the recall order, but they will soon be caught. I would propose the institution of martial law in the capital and surrounding areas, as well as a curfew for the foreseeable future until order is restored. I will also send as many of our forces as can be spared to Selini, Gallia and Sphodria, to maintain peace there."
"Yes.... yes, that is fine, but.... about that 'Majesty' part...."
"There is no other viable candidate, Londo. None at all. The Republic must be made strong, and we cannot be made strong until we have a strong leader, and a strong military. I will deal with the military, but I fear the rest is up to you."
"I merely wanted to expose Cartagia and Elrisia.... reform the Centarum.... bring some order, and then let them choose a new Emperor. I never wanted...."
"I fear there is no choice in this matter, Majesty. Go.... claim your throne."
"But...."
"The army will follow me, and I will follow you. The Centarum can wait until later. It will take a long time to recover from the ramifications of these events, and a stern hand will be needed in the interim."
Londo nodded, his face ashen. "Damn her. She was right. Damn him too."
"Majesty?"
Londo waved in the direction of Cartagia's body. "Take.... take him away. He.... I will not let him win. You hear that, Marrago? I will not let him win."
"No, Majesty. He will not win."
Londo looked back at the throne, cursing softly. He had grown to hate that chair. It caused nothing but hatred, fear, and death. And now he was to sit in it. Oh well, someone had to. There was something Lennier had once said to him: Who better to claim power than the one who does not want it?
Lennier.... "Malachi!" Londo cried out. "He is wounded. Find him. Get him to a doctor. Now!"
"Your will, Majesty." Marrago turned and began barking orders to his soldiers. Londo made to go with him, but Marrago stopped him. "You will need a doctor yourself, Londo. Cartagia cannot have died easily."
"He wanted to die, Marrago. He foresaw.... all of this. I will be the Last Emperor, and I will guide us all to the brink of oblivion. He knew that. That was why he didn't want the task. He wasn't strong enough for it." The words were delivered quietly, in a near whisper. Only one other person heard them.
Marrago's reply was equally hushed. "Then prove him wrong. Be the Emperor you always wanted to be. Make us strong again. Take our people back to the stars.... Deliver our destiny."
"Yes. You are right.... although I wish you weren't." Londo stepped back and looked at the throne for a third time. It was raised on a dais, just a short step, but an important symbolic one. It looked a thousand feet high to him now. He could not make the ascent alone.
"Help me to my throne, old friend."
"It will be my pleasure.... my Emperor."
Slowly and gently, Marrago guided Londo to the throne. He sat down.
* * * * * * *
There were things that went well beyond anger, past fury, and into an infinitely more dangerous sense of calm and peace. Sinoval felt at peace as he walked through the ruined streets of Tarolin 2, mentally assessing the damage. It was as if he were in a void, his warrior's instincts having taken over. Everything had become a matter of tactics and logistics, paper numbers of gain and loss.
The damage was concentrated on the Government buildings and thereabouts. There had been no general orbital bombardment, but a precise and targeted destruction of a specific area of the city.
Not far away there lay a body. By what he could tell from her clothing she was a worker, an administrator in the Ministry of Agriculture. The body was comparatively fresh. She had survived the initial attack, but had been taken down by a precise blow to the back of the neck, which had severed vital nerve tissue and caused immediate death.
Sinoval paused, musing on this. It was not an uncommon mode of killing, used primarily on those in flight, but there was something different about the wound. Almost as if it had been done by a very clumsy warrior, which hardly seemed to fit, or by someone working a little differently. Sonovar's alien allies, in all likelihood. Their weapons were similar to the denn'bok, but with subtle differences.
These aliens must have done the majority of the ground-based killing, mopping up those who had escaped the immediate attack. Did Sonovar trust the aliens more than his own warriors, or had the warriors refused to kill their own people? Possibilities for weakness on the rebel's part, there.
A child was sitting next to the body, trying to make the woman wake up. The child - he could not tell if it was male or female - looked up at Sinoval with pleading eyes. He ignored it, and walked on. He had always hated children.
As he walked through the city, accompanied as always by his guard of two Soul Hunters, and by a larger group of Minbari warriors who called themselves the Primarch's Blades, he collated information, studying and storing it.
A precise attack, concentrated at one point. Sonovar did not want to harm civilians. He was hitting only those in the Government. Why? To take out the power base, and destabilise? Or as a punishment for allying with Sinoval?
But if the latter were the case, then where were Kats and Kozorr? They had been the first, after all, to swear fealty.
His heart began to quicken, but he calmed himself. He could do no good to either of them by panicking.
Not long afterwards one of the Primarch's Blades stepped up to him. There were a great many of them now, more than he had expected. All of them were warriors, having renounced their former clans and taken on a new one. They all wore black, with Sinoval's personal crest affixed to the front of their tunics. Each of them also bore a tattoo on their face. It resembled a blindfold, a black line from either side of the crest, across the eyes.
Sinoval smiled to himself, recognising an old custom from a very old time.
"We have found her, Primarch," the Blade said, bowing formally. "The Lady Kats. She claims to be busy in a place of respite nearby. I will guide you there, by your will, Primarch."
Sinoval nodded and stepped up after the Blade, his honour guard of Soul Hunters following him, easily matching his pace. Kats was alive, then. That was good. He was.... happy to hear that.
What had he said to himself after receiving Sonovar's message? There is no one I love. It was true. He had never really been capable of that emotion, for no reason he understood. He had simply never been able to share his life or soul with another, never been able to open himself up, to place himself at risk in that way. He had looked at those who were in love: Delenn with her Starkiller, Kozorr's slow and hesitant feelings around Kats, and he had never envied any of them. He had come close with Deeron, but that was more a matter of mutual respect between warriors. She had not loved him, of that he was sure, and for his part, he had respected her, admired her. In his youth he had thought that might be love, but the moment she had fled from his side during the first night of their sleep-watching ceremony he had known the truth, and had always been content.
But Kats.... about her, he was not sure, and that troubled him.
The building was damaged, but not badly. It did not seem to have been a target for the initial phase of the attack. Subtle signs indicated that Sonovar's aliens had been here however, and they had not been alone. Sonovar himself had been here with them.
What could be here that was so important as to attract Sonovar himself? The Primarch had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew the answer.
He stepped inside and saw countless bodies, some dead, some dying. People tried desperately or futilely to heal or comfort them. He looked around intently, studying each face, and committing them to memory. They had served and died in his name, and they would be remembered.
Then he saw Kats, and his composure shattered.
He strode through the room, stepping over or around the bodies on the floor. As she heard his approach she turned and sighed softly, bowing her head.
For his part, Sinoval was shocked. She was covered in scratches and marks and bruises, and her simple smock was heavily stained with blood. He had known veteran warriors who would have collapsed with fewer injuries, and yet she was still on her feet, working.
"My lord," she said, softly.
"My lady," he replied, numbly. "Why have your wounds not been tended to?"
"There are others here with more serious injuries than mine. I tend to them first."
"You will be no use to them if you pass out here. Rest, my lady. That is an order."
She lifted her head, eyes blazing. "You are a warrior, my lord. You kill! I am a worker, and so I build! Allow me to build here."
For a moment he was taken aback. "My lady...." he said softly. "Speak to me...."
"Kozorr is dead," she whispered, and he closed his eyes. He had known it. He had known somehow, back when the warrior had first given his vow of fealty. "He died, in my stead."
Sinoval nodded, unable to think of words to say. Kats turned from him to resume her work. He spun on his heel and stalked from the room.
There would be a reckoning. Some day soon, there would be a reckoning.
* * * * * * *
"I.... I am.... dying now...."
Londo looked down at the ashen face of one of his oldest friends, and tried to think of the words. He was feeling very light-headed, almost giddy with the day's events. He had not yet had time to eat, and Timov would be furious if she were here.
"Hush, Malachi. You will make a fine recovery."
"Bad.... liar, Londo. Never a good trait in a politician.... but a.... welcome one in.... you...." Malachi winced, and tried to sit up. "Much to tell you.... Doctors.... have.... given me.... drugs to.... dull the pain. But they.... make me.... sleepy."
"Then you should rest. You will need to recover your strength."
"Why? For my execution? No.... Londo. Better.... I die here. You.... more than anyone.... you were right for this task. I tried.... to spare you.... this...." He coughed, and reached out with a trembling hand for the beaker at his side. Londo helped steady the dying man's hand and guided it to his mouth. Malachi drank deeply, and spluttered.
"Foul stuff," he rasped, his voice a little stronger now. "Why.... must all medicine taste so awful, Londo?"
"One of life's great mysteries," came the reply.
"Ah.... well. I will have to wonder. Londo.... it was a custom, a long time ago, for leaders to record their thoughts and advice on their death. A chance.... for their wisdom never to die. It has not been used much.... recently. Too many would not want this.... advice.... or would try to exploit it for their own purposes. We have fallen far, Londo. Very far."
"We will return, Malachi. You will be there at my side all the way."
"Deluded.... Londo. No, let me explain. This is.... my deathbed confession, I suppose. I've done a lot that I have not been proud of. I only wish history could remember the good.... as well as the bad."
"History will. I.... I will see to that."
"Thank you.... My.... confession. I ordered the murder of Emperor Refa, and arranged for you to be framed. I sent guards to kill you, although I.... hoped they would not succeed. I only wanted to frighten you, Londo. I wanted you.... gone. Somewhere safe. With G'Kar.... perhaps. Fighting a greater war than ours."
"You.... know about G'Kar?"
"I know a great deal. After Turhan died, I left here. I.... I wanted to retire somewhere, live out my remaining days in peace. It.... was not to be. I was sent a message by Lady Morella the night after my retirement. She.... gave me a.... vision. One I had to heed. I.... I would change our people, fulfill the destiny I always wanted. So.... I faked my suicide, and disappeared. I travelled throughout our Republic in disguise.... learning and.... seeing all the things I had missed for so many years." He began to cough again, and wiped his mouth awkwardly with a cloth.
"Londo.... do you know who my father was?"
"I...." He hesitated. "Yes.... I.... give me a moment.... Lord Revil.... Yes.... that was it.... Oh.... no, I remember.... You...."
"I.... was adopted.... yes. My true father was a carpenter in a village on Immolan Five. I was.... adopted by Lord Revil after his death, at Turhan's request."
Londo was stunned. He had known none of this. "I.... why? How did this happen?"
"Ah.... I'm jumping around. Forgive me, Londo. The dying ramblings of an old man. Turhan and his father visited Immolan Five when he was a child, as was I. The procession passed through our village, and.... assassins tried to kill Turhan that night. My father shouted a warning.... and saved his life. The Emperor offered my father any reward.... and he asked.... he asked for a better life for his son. The Emperor promised to have me adopted by a noble of the Court.
"He then carried on his way, and forgot all about it. My father was beaten to death by some of the Royal Guard a few weeks afterwards. Turhan.... he reminded his father of his promise, and I was.... adopted by Lord Revil, and placed close to the Court. My prior identity was destroyed, wiped from existence. I was a new noble of the Court, not a carpenter's son.
"Do you know what life is like for the lower classes, Londo? Of course not.... how could you? You were born to the purple. That was why I....
"Oh.... sorry. Jumping around again. Turhan promised social reform, but.... he tried.... He was truly a good man. He tried to reform, lower taxes, erase local corruption.... but he failed. The entire nobility, a fraction of our people, survive by the hard work and slavery of so many.... and no one cares. Turhan failed.... but he tried. It was more than his son would do.... More than the rest of you would do. You were all born to the purple.
"That was all I wanted. The lower classes.... the farmers and artisans and leather workers and.... all of them.... they can rule themselves. They're not.... puppets for our courtly games. They're not slaves or servants for our pleasure. They're us, Londo. We could not see that. The Court.... could not see that.
"You've lived in the Court all your life. You know what our nobility has become. Weak and indecisive, like Jarno. Paranoid and nostalgic, like Kiro.... Monsters, like Cartagia. We are not fit to rule any longer. I.... all I wished to do was show the Court that. I would turn all their games upon themselves.... bind them into corners.... and all the while.... the rest of the Republic would work on.... alone, and content. They would have peace.... and eventually.... even freedom.
"I tried.... Londo. I.... I caused a lot of pain, and a great.... many deaths. I set Valo off on his course, I'm sorry - but I had nothing to do with Cartagia.... or with Marrago's betrayal. I had no idea the Narns would attack so fast. I.... I thought they would be more cautious. I.... I'm sorry.... Londo. I....
"I.... I can't.... keep.... awake."
Londo stood back, silent in horror. "No one will know," he said at last. "No one will know, my friend. I.... I'll finish your work. I'll reform our Republic. I'll make it mean something. I'll make it all mean something. For all of us. Malachi.... Malachi!"
There was a gentle pressure on his arm and he turned, blinking past his tears, to see Marrago standing there. "He will not wake up again, Majesty. He took a fatal dose. He.... he knew what he was doing."
"He was my friend, Marrago! Whatever he did, he was my friend!"
"I.... I did not hear his last words, Majesty," Marrago said, lying smoothly. "I am sure he will be remembered with all the honour and glory he deserves."
"He.... was my friend."
"He was a great man."
"So.... is that it, Marrago? Is it all over now? Did.... did all this bloodshed have some sort of meaning?"
"It is never over. Elrisia is still free, and there is the matter of what to do with Jarno. Lord Kiro is threatening a dire revenge.... once he recovers sufficiently. The Shadow Criers are still a threat, of course. And.... there are always the Narns."
"So.... did we accomplish anything by this?"
"Of course we did. The Court is united and pacified. We have saved the Republic from Hell, Majesty.... now we will help her to Heaven. The restoration will begin here.... it has to begin somewhere, after all."
"So.... what now?"
"Now.... Now there are a great many people who wish to speak to their Emperor."
* * * * * * *
<She is gone.>
Valen stiffened. He began to say something, but then he realised he did not know what to say. He had felt it, somehow. He had known. He had tried to warn her.... but....
He had known. Somehow he had always known.
In all his memories of the past yet to come, Catherine had been in none of them.
<She is gone.>
"No," he whispered. "She is not gone. I will remember her.... I.... will.... find her again."
The Vorlon gave a look that might have been quizzical. <We were.... wrong. We have been wrong in so much.... but never more so than here.>
"I.... don't understand."
<Footsteps in the sand.>
Now, he did understand.
The Shadows were gathering. They had Sheridan. Delenn was wavering. Ta'Lon was fighting a desperate holding action. Outside, the rift was collapsing. People were dying.
"I am ready," he said simply. "I am Valen now, aren't I? Completely and utterly."
"<Click, click>"
Zathras moved up beside him. "You are wrong. Valen is wrong. Sinclair is wrong. You are not Valen. No. <Click, click> You are not Sinclair. You are.... both. Yes. Joining of two. Combination of two. Greatest leader Minbari will ever know. But.... human as well as Minbari. That is important detail. Zathras know these things. See.... people should listen to Zathras more."
"So.... what now?"
"Problems outside. Problems inside also, but bigger ones outside. Rift is.... collapsing. Will not hold much longer. Zathras is afraid something has happened to Great Machine, but nothing Zathras can do about that now. We must free Captain Sheridan.... send him and Delenn back to their ship, and.... must do one other thing. Then.... we get back in time quickly."
"Do we have time?"
"There is always time.... but Zathras understand you, yes. We have time.... if the rift can be kept open long enough. Zathras.... cannot do that, but Zathras knows Vorlon who can."
"Kosh." The Vorlon turned. "You can keep the rift open?"
<Yes.>
But Valen understood just how.
"Life energy," said Zathras sadly. "Powerful thing.... if used properly. If used by one who knows how."
<A bargain was made.... long ago. I go to do my part.>
The Vorlon moved to the docking bays. Helplessly, still burdened by the weights of destiny and duty, Valen followed. Delenn and Zathras were just behind. Kosh turned to Delenn, and spoke just one word.
All around them, the Shadows began to appear. Ivanova was in the middle of them, as was Sheridan.
Kosh was still, and then.... his encounter suit began to open.
* * * * * * *
The others there would no doubt see it in different ways. Delenn would witness a confirmation of futures past and present, and a reaffirmation of the path she was to take. Susan Ivanova would see the sorrows of her life, and all those waiting for her at her death, and she would be drawn closer to her redemption. Zathras saw.... who could tell?
But as Kosh purged his essence, channelling his life energy, sacrificing his life for the good of the past and the future, it was the man called Jeffrey Sinclair, the Minbari called Valen, who saw most, and understood most.
I am Valen.
I am Valen!
I AM VALEN!
I am Jeffrey Sinclair.
I am Jeffrey Sinclair!
I AM JEFFREY SINCLAIR!
Catherine.... I will find you. Wherever you are, whatever you become, I will find you.
The mistakes of the past opened up to him. Marrain's hubris, the Tak'cha's misinterpretations, Parlonn's tragedy. But he knew them now for what they were. He would build a future, a great destiny. He would save a people from destruction. Those mistakes.... they were not fatal, they were stepping stones on the way to that future.
Marrain's fate would lead to his redemption a thousand years later. Parlonn would learn a terrible truth and save his soul. The Tak'cha would gain a focus and a duty through his words.
Good and evil. Right and wrong. Both were a part of him. There had to be a balance. Always a balance.
Human and Minbari. A balance.
The light faded. The Shadows were gone.
He was standing still, tears streaming down his face.
The arrow that springs from the bow. At long last, he was ready.
* * * * * * *
She ran, terrified, everything awake in her mind. Her mother, her brother, her father, her first love.... She could see them all. All dead. Each and every one of them dead. She had to do something. She had to do something.
The Vorlon.... his light.... it was taking her to pieces....
She stumbled and almost fell, but managed to right herself. She had lost her weapon. She felt she had lost her mind. There was.... pain.... in some part of her, a part she could not quite identify.
I have to get away from here!
The Vorlon was everywhere. It was this station, it surrounded this station. It was.... everywhere.
She had to get away.
And Susan Ivanova ran, making for the docking bays. Perhaps she could reach a shuttle, or even go for a space walk. She had to get away from here. She had to get away from the Vorlon.
"Where is she?" Delenn asked, looking up from Sheridan. He was groaning and wincing. "Where.... has she gone?"
"She will not be allowed to escape," Valen said. "No, Delenn.... she.... she has something else to learn first. This was a journey of discovery for all of us. For her most of all."
"So.... you're just going to let her get away?" protested Sheridan. "I don't.... aaagh! I don't.... understand."
"She has to learn something. One day.... you will all need her, and when that day comes, what she learns today will save both her, and you." Valen looked at both of them. Sheridan and Delenn. He could see what lay ahead of them now, one last gift from Kosh. Prophecy, or foresight, or footsteps.... He could see the chains that bound them all together.
Sheridan to Delenn to Neroon to Ta'Lon to G'Kar to Zathras to Valen to Delenn to Sheridan to Corwin to Ivanova.... A thin, fragile series of connections that would preserve and guide the future.
"What about the rift?" Delenn asked. "It was.... degrading. Do we have time?"
"Yes," said Zathras sadly. "Yes.... we have time. All the time we need. Time.... is infinite."
* * * * * * *
The streets were dark as Elrisia claimed her hiding place. It took her a moment to catch her breath, but at least she was warm in here. It was too cold outside, and her courtly clothes provided little protection.
The humiliation of it! A Lady of her rank forced to hide in a hovel like some worthless peasant! Damn Cartagia, and damn Mollari. She had heard the cries of his acclamation as she fled, and that must mean Cartagia had been killed. The only satisfaction she had was the news of Valo's capture. At least that was one pretender removed from contention.
This was not over yet, not by a long way. She had allies still, most of them away from the Court now it was true, but it would not be hard to regain a position of power. The military perhaps. Valo must have had some admirers from whom she could elicit support. Truth was variable after all. Spreading dissension against the new Emperor Mollari would not be difficult.
Yes, she would have her time.
And when she was ruling once more, she would punish everyone who had brought her here.... to this wet, cold, stinking hovel of a warehouse. It was one of the few places she could hide, admittedly. Oh well, tomorrow she would be able to leave the capital and get to her estates out in the country. From there....
There was the sound of movement behind her, and she sat up. "Who is there?" she asked. There was silence. "Answer me! I am a Lady of the Court!" There was no risk in announcing her identity. Hardly any of the nobles or courtiers would be here, and she assuredly had nothing to fear from any grubby peasant or petty merchant.
"Answer me! I order you."
A torch was lit, and a figure came dimly into view. There were more behind him. He was walking slowly towards her, holding his torch aloft. Others were lit.
"Who are you?" she whispered, scrabbling back against the far wall. "I am a Lady of the Court. You will all be whipped for this. I order you to...."
The leading man spoke, his voice disgustingly low class. "The Darkness is coming," he whispered, and raised his torch high enough so that she could see his eyes. They were gleaming with a powerful madness.
He then threw the torch at her feet. Screaming, she tried to roll away from it, but by the time she had reached a standing position, her dress was already on fire.
"I'm a Lady of the Court," she cried. "I'm a...." She screamed as the flames began to lick at her hair.
"The Darkness is coming," said the leading Shadow Crier.
"The Darkness is coming," echoed the others obediently.
Elrisia was still screaming.
* * * * * * *
She knew where she had to go, where there was one person who could help her. She had passed up on his love once before, but it was different now. It was the past now. He was different.
She could still change things. Not for humanity perhaps, but for her. She could.... be.... happy....
The rift was tearing her apart, but the space suit would protect her. They had been modified slightly to provide protection against the rift. She knew that. The voice that had once spoken to her had said that machinery had been added for protection when last-minute work had been needed on the station before entering the rift. It would protect her as well.
And as the winds of time buffeted her this way and that way, as she screamed in pain both physical and remembered, Susan Ivanova made her way slowly to the Babylon.
"I don't like this mission," David was saying. "It sounds.... dangerous."
"Don't try to protect me," she replied, a little more harshly than she had intended. "I know what I'm doing. I.... I have to get away from Proxima for a while, that's all, and besides.... this is important. You know that. We need all the advantages we can get in this war, and there might just be some out on the Rim."
"That's not it, Susan." God, he looked so young. He was, really, but still.... So many years ago. Before she had left for the Rim. In a very real sense she had never returned from it. "You're running from something. What is it? Why won't you tell me?"
"You're imagining things." A lie. It had been a lie then, and he had known it. She had accidentally run into a Psi Cop a few days before volunteering for the mission. The teep - Donne, her name had been - had looked at her slowly and curiously, before walking on. Had she suspected anything? They were getting closer to her now. Soon, they would find out.
"It's an important mission, and I have to do this. David, I don't try to dissuade you from risking your life next to Captain Sheridan all the time, do I?"
"Susan, that's.... that's different, and you know it."
"No, it isn't. I've got to go. I'll see you.... when I get back, David. It'll only be a couple of months."
And then she had left, and never returned.
Until now.
Her eyes opened, and she could see him again. She was feeling.... so weak, but.... ready. There he was. David. A good few years older than in her vision from the past, but.... still young, still innocent. She almost sobbed.
There were others beside him, and one of them barked something. She couldn't understand the words, and she tried to move forward. They were all drawing weapons. She recognised one of them. Not his name, but he had.... done something.... He had helped her, helped them, once.... He had let her try to kill Delenn.
No. Prevent that betrayal, do something to change the present, perhaps save them all.
She moved, and tried to touch them. There was a brilliant flare of light before her eyes, and she screamed. The other man had fallen, but everything inside her was churning. She felt sick. She tried to reach David. He was so close to her now.... almost.... there....
With a soft wrench, she was pulled back into the timestream.
"Why are you doing this?" someone was asking her. "Why are you...?"
"I must have been dropped on my head when I was a baby," she replied, with trademark cynicism. "I don't need a reason."
"I will not forget this."
"I doubt you'll live long enough to."
With a shock, she realised she was holding a weapon. She raised it up. A darkness fell over them both, and something in the other person's eyes glinted, and Susan realised at last who it was.
The timestream threw her out again, her head reeling. She was in the same place she had been in before, the docking bay of the Babylon. David was there again, but alone. It was the same time as before.
He began to speak, and unlike the last time, she could understand his words. "It's you, isn't it?" he said. "I thought it was before, but now.... it is you."
She tried to move forward, to reach him, to touch him, but she could not, and she fell. He rushed to her side, but then stopped suddenly. "You need my help," he said, not a question, but a statement. He knew her better than she knew herself these days.
She nodded weakly.
"So then, what can I do for you?" Slowly, desperately, knowing that it might be a mistake but willing to chance it anyway, she removed her helmet, so much wanting to see him directly instead of through a visor.
"I...." She tried to think of what to say, but the words would not come out. So much had not happened yet, there was so much she had not yet done that she would regret. Marcus was.... still alive.
"I'm sorry, David," she whispered, tears running down her face. "When I.... left you, we argued. I'm sorry for what I said."
"Ah.... that's all right," he said, bemused. "Susan, you look.... different. This has to do with Babylon Four, doesn't it? What's happening?"
"It's.... I can't explain. Think of me as.... as...." A brief memory of Marcus came to her mind, a book he had been reading while he was assigned to look after her - or to spy on her, depending on your point of view. But David was hardly a greedy miser, and she was no spirit, benevolent or otherwise, and she could not change him. What had been.... was, and she could not alter it.
"I'm a ghost," she said, trying to beat back tears. "I'm just a ghost passing through. Forget I was ever here."
"I'll never forget you, Susan," he said, and he was so sincere, so genuine....
She blinked away her tears, and knew what she had to do. He had shown her the way, although he would probably never know how. To be truthful, she probably never would either. "I need to get back to Babylon Four," she said. "There's.... something I have to do."
"Can I help?"
She shook her head sadly. "You already have. More than you can know."
He nodded. "I'll.... always be around to help you, no matter what's been going on lately. I have hope for the future, Susan. Everything will turn out for the best, I'm sure of that."
"Keep believing that.... and maybe.... may....be...."
She fell silent, and did not speak again until she arrived back on Babylon 4, almost exactly at the spot where she had ambushed and captured Sheridan. The Narn was waiting there for her, as were Valen and Zathras.
"I surrender," she said quietly. "I'm turning myself over to you."
"Told you," said Zathras happily. "Zathras knows best. Oh yes. People should listen to Zathras more. Zathras knows what Zathras is saying."
* * * * * * *
A ruined ship was floating aimlessly, just one pile of débris among so many, just one more mark of the lost and the damned in this battle. In the remains of what had once been the bridge of the EAS Parmenion there was a body, the body of one who had once been the greatest hope of his people.
Captain John Sheridan was trapped between life and death. He was not breathing.
There was a sudden and brilliant flare of light, the very last act of a dying angel.
And then there was silence once more.
* * * * * * *
"He is not dead," she said softly. "I can feel it. I know. He is not dead."
Commander David Corwin nodded once, briefly. He wanted to believe her, even if he was not sure he could. No one could have survived that, could they? If anyone could, it would be the Captain.
"He.... is not dead."
Delenn was not crying.
"We will find him."
Corwin nodded again. "Yes," he said. "Yes, we'll find him."
* * * * * * *
He stood alone, as he always would from now on. Everything that had once been a part of him was gone. Jeffrey Sinclair was gone. His future was gone. From now until his death, he would always be Valen.
They had arrived in the past safely, and had found two Vorlon cruisers waiting for them. The Vorlons had come aboard, and formally introduced themselves to him. He knew one of them. It was Kosh, whose life essence was now finally fading with the temporal rift. But that was a thousand years in the future.
I will not be your puppet, he thought to himself as he looked at his new companions. But I will do what is ordained. I will end this war, and build peace here. It might not last forever, but a thousand years might just about be enough.
What had happened at Epsilon 3? Who had survived? What would become of Kazomi 7 with its ray of hope, and of Delenn, and Sheridan, and poor, doomed Primarch Sinoval?
He would never know.
After their arrival Zathras had spent a lot of time messing around with the ion engines. The first meeting with the Minbari was a fair distance away in normal space. It had taken the station some hours to get to the required area, and Zathras spent the whole journey tutting, clicking and muttering to himself.
And now he was waiting. The first Minbari ship had chanced upon the station, and its occupants were coming aboard. Two warrior caste of course, leaders of different clans, warring clans that he would eventually unite. The greatest, proudest, strongest warriors of this age.
And he would destroy them both.
Both of them came into view, looking bemused, and more than a touch angry. Each was only barely tolerating the other's presence. He could see them clearly now, just as he could see them later. Their fight back to back on the blood-stained sands of Iwojim, ending with the two mortal enemies clasping hands astride an ocean of the dead.
Enemies now, soon to be friends, and later, to be traitors.
But their deaths would not be in vain, neither of them. He could see that now. It was all part of a vast tapestry, a multitude of threads that led back to the present, and the future, and beyond....
Parlonn's betrayal to the Shadows, brought about by rational reasoning and an acceptance of their cause, was necessary to convince Marrain to ally with them, an alliance wrought out of jealousy and envy. And that was necessary for one man who would arise a thousand years in the future, and begin a destiny that would affect the next thousand years.
Threads within webs, creating an infinite tapestry, of which he was only the smallest of parts.
"I welcome you," he said, and they started. Marrain raised his hand to his weapon. "And present this place to you as a gift."
They stood still, looking at the Gods of beauty at his side, each realising that something very special had just happened. They could feel the course of history turning beneath their feet. Neither had any idea of where it would take them, or that the salvation of their people would mean the damnation of their souls.
"I am called Valen," he said, "and we have much work ahead of us."