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"OH, look man, I don't know anything. I swear I don't!"
"You know what," Marcus Cole said softly, treading over a pile of groaning bodies and bearing down upon the last person standing in the bar. "I think you're lying." He paused and tapped his elongated pike slowly against the side of his leg.
"You see, it's like this. A very good friend of mine is in Medlab right this moment in a coma. She's not well. And another friend has currently been kidnapped by some very bad people. Now being a rather bad person yourself, I figured you might.... No, sorry, I've already done that line. Okay, start again. Sorry about the delay. You weren't doing anything important, were you?"
"Ah, uh, well...."
"So you see, I am not in a very good mood. And when I get in a not very good mood, I get downright cranky. Not as bad as a certain woman of my acquaintance, but still pretty bad, and when I get cranky, I want to hit someone. Helps me work out my tensions, you see. Now, I know you weren't responsible, but well.... you're here, and they aren't, and unless you tell me who I should be hitting instead of you, I'm afraid I'll just have to work out my frustration on you. I know it's not fair, but well.... what can you expect from life?"
"Uh, look.... I'll be glad to help, but...."
"But?"
"I don't know no Centauri lady. People like that don't come down here very often."
"Fine, but you know something."
"I know lotsa things. I don't know how much they'll help."
"I'll be the judge of that. I want to know about anything.... unusual that might have happened recently. Some strange people. Stranger than usual, I mean."
"Um, well.... There.... Ah!"
"What? Oh sorry." Marcus moved his pike a few inches away from the man's head. "This thing has a life of its own sometimes." He made sure to keep it nearby. "You were saying?"
"I did see a.... um.... a...."
"Yes?"
"A pink and blue flying elephant with bright polka dots!" Acting with a speed that managed to startle even Marcus, the man kicked upwards, striking Marcus squarely between the legs. The Ranger stumbled backwards - torn between groaning in pain and cursing himself for being so stupid - and swung out with his pike. The man ducked under it and ran for the exit, none too partial about who he was treading on as he did so.
He'd made all of five steps before what seemed like a giant anvil came out of nowhere and smashed directly into his face.
Susan Ivanova stepped out of the shadows and shook her fist reflexively. "I see what you mean," she said. "Mindless violence is very therapeutic."
"For.... some...." Marcus whispered, trying to avoid doubling over.
"Are you all right?"
".... Fine...."
"I can have a look at it, if you'd like?"
".... Not.... necessary."
"Oh well. If you say so." Susan cast a very impressed eye around the room. "I am impressed. Twenty four groaning bodies lying on the floor in the space of about a minute and a half. Shame we didn't learn anything from them, but still.... There's always the next place."
"Let.... me.... get my.... breath.... back first. Back on.... Minbar.... they always said I.... was carrying around.... a lot of.... repressed anger."
"Oh. Doesn't look like you're repressed any more. Are you sure you don't want me to have a look at....?"
"Positive." Marcus straightened and made a point of looking anywhere but her eyes. Although her expression was perfectly straight, he knew there was laughter in her eyes. A beautiful sight, to be true, but one to be appreciated when he'd.... recovered from that unfortunate blow.
Using his pike as a staff, he began limping forward. "So. Next stop?"
"Fine by me."
A mere moment after they left the bar, there was a brief motion before them and someone stepped out of the shadows to meet them.
* * * * * * *
"You are the Starkiller, then?" Sheridan tried to pick out the source of that voice, but he couldn't. The voice was speaking English, but there was an accent he couldn't quite place. It might have been Minbari, but the voice was hoarse and gravelly, almost as if it had come from a smoker for forty years. But Minbari didn't smoke, did they? But then who else would address him as Starkiller?
"No. People tell me I look like him all the time. I don't see it myself, but people say we have the same eyes."
Sheridan tensed his body, waiting for the inevitable blow. He had no idea of where he was, or how long he had been here. He remembered the Centauri lady who had attacked him with something, and he remembered the human who had begun the process of kicking him to death, but not much else. Everything in here was dark. Sheridan couldn't see anything, or hear anything except the voice of his captor. He was hurting, aching, at least a little afraid, effectively blind, and being held by some very hostile people.
There was nothing like a challenge.
"I see," said the voice. Sheridan relaxed, at least partially. "I am not going to beat you, Starkiller. There would be no.... honour in that. I have a question for you, that is all. A very simple question. What do you want?"
Sheridan groaned. Now he understood. He knew the meaning of that question. Delenn and Lorien had told him all about it. "You work for them. The Shadows. They're gone, can't you see that? The war's over!"
"The war is never over, Starkiller. Never. You of all people should know that. What do you want?"
"Nothing that you can give me."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. What do you want? Answer me, Starkiller! What do you want?"
"Nothing. I know the answer to your question, you see. And I know what it means. I know what it signifies. I learned that at Z'ha'dum, and was taught, by my father. Yes, there are things I want. I want a longer life with Delenn, I want to see my parents again. I want to be out of this cell. I want all the people who died in the war to come back again.
"I want a lot of things, but I know better than you assume that you - or anyone else - can give me them. My father told me something once. 'If you fight, fight without fear. If you love, love without reservation.' He called it the Way of the Warrior. I have no regrets, and there is nothing I want that you can give me."
"What about Delenn? Do you not want to be with her?"
"Yes," Sheridan replied slowly. He closed his eyes - unnecessary of course, but a symbolic gesture - and envisioned Delenn, in all her beauty, her kindness, her strength. "Yes, but I know that sooner or later I'm doing to die. And so will she. We say our goodbyes every time we're together, every time we touch or kiss. I love her, but I know she wouldn't want me to damn myself just to be with her. If I die here, we'll meet again, in a place where no shadows fall. You cannot touch me, and you cannot get to me through her. Kill me if you like, but I won't play your games."
There was a pause. A very long pause. Sheridan kept his vision of Delenn. He kept thinking of her, kept remembering her. He was trapped in darkness, with Shadow agents who hated him, but he was not afraid, because she was there.
She was always there.
"A good answer," the voice replied. "If only I had said that. But the point is that I did not. I am damned, Starkiller, and this is my one chance for redemption."
"You're pathetic. Redemption can't be bought. It has to be earned."
"Perhaps. We will see. You are a luckier man than I, Captain. A luckier man by far."
"Glad you think so. I have a question. Just who the hell are you?"
"A lost soul. An abomination cast from grace. I was shown the heights of beauty and I fell into the pits of despair. I am a monster. The name I bore, and the name I was given, belong to a man long dead. I am called simply Shryne now."
There was a brief silhouette of light as a door opened, and Sheridan caught the shadow of the figure in the doorway. He was definitely Minbari.
"By the way, Starkiller. Delenn was accidentally wounded shortly after your capture. She is dying in your Medlab at this moment. You may be together in your place where no shadows fall very soon. When you are there, think of me, and remember."
The light faded, the figure was gone, and Sheridan was alone in the darkness.
No, not alone. Never alone.
She was with him. Always.
* * * * * * *
"Do something like that again, and I swear I'll.... I'll...." Susan stared at the figure before her and couldn't honestly think of a threat bad enough.
Neroon met her gaze blankly and turned to Marcus. "I have been trying to find you," he said, in Lenn-ah. "You have left quite a trail."
"In English, please," Marcus said. "Susan's a part of this, too."
"Am I Hell?" she snapped. "If you two want to get together for your little male bonding and machismo-fests, then go ahead, but we've got the Captain to find."
"I know where he is," Neroon said simply, in English.
"What?" Susan started. "Where?"
"For the moment, he is safe."
"Where is he? Who took him and.... and how the Hell did you find out about this? There's supposed to be a Security guard monitoring you." Marcus shot her a dirty look and she shrugged. "It seemed prudent."
"The guard is dead. He was killed by the one behind this."
"And who is it?" Marcus asked.
Neroon looked at him, and bowed his head. "His name is Shryne." Marcus groaned.
"That supposed to mean something?" Susan interjected.
Marcus looked at Neroon, as if deciding which one of them would answer. It was Marcus. "Over the centuries there have been Minbari who.... served the Shadows."
"What? I thought that.... Why did we never hear about this before?"
"It is not something we talk about," Neroon said. "It is a source of great shame to our people. Those who talk this path are banished from our society. Their names are abandoned and they are cast out, exiled. There have not been many, but there have been some. Whenever one of our people does this, they abandon their old name, and take a new one. They always call themselves Shryne. In our language, it means 'Forsaken'."
"And one of these Shadow agents is behind the Captain's disappearance. Oh, great!"
"This Shryne was once called Tryfan, of the Star Riders clan, as am I. He was warrior caste, and he and I were good friends. When the Rangers were formed, he joined."
"I didn't think there were any warrior caste agents."
Neroon at least had the decency to look faintly embarrassed. "We needed information on what the Rangers were doing, on how they were organised. We needed a few of our people inside the Rangers.... in case we ever needed to...."
"Spies," Susan said. "Great."
"I didn't know that," Marcus said.
"That is also not something we talk about." Neroon paused. "Tryfan disappeared while on a mission to the Rim over two of your years ago. We assumed he was fallen. The truth is far worse. He became Shryne. He is here, on the station, and he has your Captain. He came to see me now, and he told me where Starkill.... where Sheridan is being held."
"Why would he do that?" Susan asked. "Did he want you to ally yourself with him?"
"No. He knows that would never happen, whatever friendship we once had. I.... suspected that Shryne was here. I have been following his trail for some time. That is why I came here. Oh, I also wanted to talk about treaties and reports, and the official reasons I gave, but I knew Shryne was here. There were three murders not long ago, I believe. Three.... different murders."
"Yes," Ivanova said. "Maintenance workers. In Grey sector."
"They represented the One who is Three. Valen, Entil'zha and Sheridan. It was both symbolic, and a warning to me what he was here. But there are another three.... the Warriors who are Three. Shryne is trying to lure us to him."
"Us?" Susan said. "You mean us three. This is absurd. Why would he want the three of us to follow him? Is this a trap? Some form of revenge? What? I mean, what does he want?"
Marcus and Neroon looked at each other again, and then at her.
"Redemption," they said together.
* * * * * * *
Lyta looked at Delenn's prone form and bit her lower lip slowly. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Dr. Franklin asked from beside her. She nodded.
"I owe Delenn a lot," she said. "If I can help her in any way...."
"Her life energy is too low," Franklin was saying. "I can heal the wound, and I think I can purge the poison from her, and I can raise her life energy, but she had to want to come back. Subconsciously, she has to want to come back here."
"And you think that's where I come in."
"If you can.... enter her subconscious and try and.... I don't know, just try and convince her somehow. Find out what happened. Maybe even find out if she knows anything about what happened to Captain Sheridan. Anything."
"I'll do my best." Lyta stepped up close to Delenn. It was.... almost terrifying to see her like this, so weak and helpless, her life held together by a machine.
Lyta drew in a deep breath and placed her hand on Delenn's forehead.
I should have loved him less, and trusted him more, Stephen. And now I have sent him to his death.
Lyta blinked and shook her head. The intensity, the fire in Delenn's memories was almost.... frightening.
It's funny. During the war, I fought Minbari, I killed Minbari, I saw many of my friends die at Minbari hands, and here I am.... in love with one.
When I look in her eyes, I think to myself, maybe I really can fly.
Could I love you that much, and not forgive?
It is presumption of the highest order. Scorn and hatred poured from the Minbari's voice. Lyta did not recognise him, but she quailed before the power in his words. I do not answer questions from freaks. Lyta shook with Delenn, trembling in anger and despair.
Do you know your trouble, Delenn? You are a piece of the machine that thinks it is the whole of the machine. The flute that thinks itself the symphony. You have malfunctioned. Admit it, and you will feel better.
Be a nice Minbari. Conform!
Bang.
Lyta screamed with Delenn. She felt the pain, the shame, flowing through her body.
What a sad thing you are. Is there nothing of your own? Do you have nothing that is not signed, stamped, authorised, approved and granted by others?
Who are you?
Aw, dammit, Delenn. I always figured you were holding out on me on a couple of things. I figured you had your reasons. But this!
I just want you to know. I love you, Delenn. Goodbye.
I should have loved him less, and trusted him more.
I love you, Delenn. Goodbye.
In human terms, twenty years.
....trusted him more.
Goodbye....
Twenty years.
I love you, Delenn.
Twenty years.
Loved him less....
Goodbye.
Trusted him more.
Twenty years.
I love you, Delenn. Goodbye.
Lyta started and stepped back. She was swaying, and there were tears in her eyes. She coughed harshly, and nearly fell over. Franklin caught, and steadied her.
"Did you see anything?" he asked.
"I.... yes.... I think so. I'm sorry, Doctor. I can't help her. And nor can you. Only one person can do that.
"And where he is, I have no idea."
* * * * * * *
"I want this on record that I think this is Grade A stupid."
"So noted," Marcus commented. "Now shut up."
"She is spirited, isn't she?" Neroon commented in Lenn-ah. "She does not speak this language, does she?"
"No. She speaks a passable Adronato. Just don't ask her about her lingerie."
"I'm sorry."
"Just a joke."
"I still don't see why we couldn't just bring a Security team in on this." Susan had been arguing for that for a while.
"It is a matter of honour," Neroon said. "Shryne has thrown down a challenge. One warrior to another. It would be wrong to refuse that." "Yeah, yeah. Honour and duty and male bonding. I could have just gone to a fraternity dorm. One last question. You are sure that he is here, and that the Captain is alive."
"Yes," Neroon said. "He would not lie to me. He would not. It is a matter of...."
"I know. I know. Honour." She turned to Marcus. "I can see why you two get along so well."
"Does she always talk so much in situations like this?" Neroon asked.
"Most of the time, yeah."
"You have my commiserations."
Neroon paused and looked at Marcus. He extended his arm, and Marcus took it. He looked at Susan, who looked back at him. Rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, she clasped her hand over his, resolutely refusing to let go of her PPG as she did so. Susan despaired of these two sometimes. They were going into a dangerous situation against a largely unknown enemy and the only weapons they had were two big sticks.
Somebody had to maintain some perspective around here.
"Fine," she said. "Let's go."
The three of them set off into the missing depths of Grey 17. The darkness closed in around them.
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