Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке

Chapter 1

How strange, thought Delenn of Mir, formerly Satai of the Grey Council, now Zha'valen and outcast and yet so much more, as she looked out over the huddled masses who had once been her own people and were now nothing more than helpless refugees, their lives bound to the whims of aliens and foreigners. Once the Minbari had been spoken of in hushed whispers and with frightened awe. Now they were destroyed, their culture torn apart, their world reduced to poisoned ashes.

How strange. We seem to have lost our sense of purpose in recent years. We have been damned, I think, ever since we annihilated a people.

Her own people truly did not seem aware of their actions. Many rested against walls or in the streets, sleeping fitfully, moaning softly. Many looked afraid.

Most of those here at Kazomi 7 were from either the religious or worker castes. The warriors largely disdained the help of a pathetic, outcast 'priestling' and chose either acceptance and service with 'Primarch' Sinoval, or…. more direct action elsewhere.

We have all fallen, Delenn observed sadly to herself. She had witnessed many horrible changes in her people in the more than ten cycles since the start of the war, but nothing — not even the image of her ruined world — brought this home so much as the sight of these forlorn refugees.

Aliens looked at them with suspicion in their hard eyes. Mainly Drazi — Kazomi 7 had once been a Drazi colony after all, and they still formed the bulk of the security forces along with the mammoth Bulloxians — but there were also Brakiri, Hyach and Abbai here. Administrators, clerks, security officials, customs officers — all processing the details of those arriving, allocating accommodation, recommending medical assistance where necessary, which was often.

Kazomi 7 was nothing if not an eclectic society these days.

Delenn heard a gruff cough beside her and she turned to see Taan Churok, the Drazi Head of Security and Minister for Defence. He had been a barkeeper before the Drakh invasion had turned him into a leader, and the birth of an Alliance had given him responsibility. His face bore a permanently unhappy expression, especially around the refugees. The Drazi were a strong race, and disliked shepherding the weak. Taan Churok would have fitted in very nicely with Sinoval, Delenn thought. Still, she found it hard to dislike him. His hearts, as the humans said, were in the right place.

"Too many of them," he observed. "Far too many."

"There will be room for them," Delenn replied firmly. That was one of her strongest beliefs. There would be room for everyone on Kazomi 7.

He gave the Drazi equivalent of a shrug. "If you think so."

"How goes the rebuilding work in the old Maul Sector?"

"It goes." He nodded at a figure surrounded by Minbari. "Tiring, he is."

"I am not surprised," she said softly. "How long has it been since he slept?"

"As long as it has been since you did." It was a fair point, one which Delenn accepted without comment. She had been on Minbar too long, away from the seat of the United Alliance, and yet she had been needed here. Now that she had returned, she was finding it hard to catch up on everything that had happened in her absence. But with John…. away, she was at least finding the time, even if there was some difficulty with the motivation.

"Still, he should rest. Surely he cannot endure much longer."

"Know you of another with his gifts, who can do what he does?" Taan Churok's voice was disapproving. He had argued long and hard against opening Kazomi 7 to more people, and no doubt he would have been arguing even more strongly against permitting the Minbari refugees to come, had not Delenn simply overruled everyone.

"Essential he is." He gave that Drazi shrug again.

Delenn had to agree. He was essential, and unique. Vejar was the one technomage known to have remained behind in civilised space. The others had all gone. For whatever reason, he had stayed, and had chosen to use his strange powers — not science, nor magic, but a strange mix of the two — to help protect the world he had chosen.

Delenn could see him now. He was slight, seemingly so slender as to break at a touch, and yet his young frame harboured more power than she could have believed possible.

As she watched, Vejar stepped back and ushered off another Minbari. The figure, probably a worker, smiled and walked away from him, making for the two Drazi guards who would carry out the customs check. Vejar bowed solemnly and ushered on the next one.

An important duty, but an exhausting one. Vejar had the task of protecting Kazomi 7, just as Taan Churok did, but from a different direction. While Taan Churok observed for conventional threats, Vejar looked for the…. more unconventional.

The next Minbari, an old, hobbling priest, clearly favouring her left leg, reached the technomage. She smiled benevolently as he placed his hand on her forehead.

Instantly, her whole demeanour changed. A look of insane hatred passed over her face and she lunged at the technomage, her fingers clawing for his eyes. Drazi from all around converged on her, their long, wickedly-pointed knives in their hands instantly. Vejar looked unconcerned, however. Entwining his fingers into a steeple, he took measured steps back from his assailant. With a smooth motion, he blew across the tips of his fingers.

She fell back, her weak leg giving way, sending her falling to the floor. A large hump appeared on her shoulder, one circle of light glowing from its centre.

Taan Churok growled slightly, and Delenn finally found the strength to breathe out. Just another Keeper. One of many found on Minbari refugees. One of far too many.

A tool of the Enemy. Delenn knew little of what the Keepers could do, save for what she had seen here herself. The Drakh had left many behind on Kazomi 7 before they departed, but to see them coming from beyond…. it always terrified her.

Especially on her own people.

Vejar knelt across the Minbari's prone body and raised a hand gently to halt the zealous Drazi. "It is all right," he assured them. "Everything is…."

He fell silent, as did the others. Another figure walked into view, one that moved with the grace of a dancer, and the dignity of an angel. One who commanded respect and awe with every small gesture. One who belonged to legend, and to history, and to a time a thousand years gone.

It was the Minbari who spoke first, whispering in awe amongst themselves. All knew he had returned, of course. Many had seen his…. very public pronouncement at the Temple of Varenni in Yedor. Still, the rumours meant little next to the sight of the legend himself. Even Delenn, who knew as much of the truth as any mortal, found herself breathing a little more sharply.

And he began to speak, and his words reached the heart of his people. For he was Valen, the One Who Was, the legend made flesh, and his words were as unto law.

Catherine Sakai knew it was bad news when she received the memo. It was curt, very much to the point, and marked with the personal seal of Orin Zento, CEO of Interplanetary Expeditions himself. Also, and even more significantly, it was handwritten.

Catherine had never seen Zento's handwriting before, and it did not give her any sort of encouragement. It was sharp and angular, with no curves to any of the letters. The words had obviously been written quickly, with no thought other than getting the message across. There was no ostentation, no attempt to make the contents attractive. Nothing but the harshness of the script, and the personal seal. Even the signature stood alone — just Orin Zento, no hint of the many titles which made the man one of the richest and most powerful in the human race.

Catherine read the message again.

Come and see me. My office. 1400 hours. Orin Zento.

Such an event was unprecedented, and Catherine was certain she had an idea of what it was about. The collection of information, discrepancies and tantalising hints she had bundled together in what she called the G'Kar Files.

She waited outside the door to his office, the object of stern glances from the two security guards and no less harsh looks from Zento's secretary, a prim-looking woman by the name of Lise Hampton. She had known about Catherine's appointment instantly, and had made no remark about the strangeness of such an event. She had said only, "Please wait here until Mr. Zento is ready for you," and returned to her business.

Catherine had been waiting in silence for nearly half an hour, and she was becoming more and more agitated by the minute. That was the point, of course, but recognising it did not make the wait any easier.

Finally, after an interminable time, the door opened the briefest fraction and Hampton announced, "He will see you now." Swallowing harshly, Catherine entered, avoiding the suspicious stares of the towering security guards.

She blinked sharply as she walked into the room. There was a slight hiss as the door closed behind her, shutting the room in total darkness. She could see nothing, nothing at all. There was no sound either.

"Mr. Zento," she said softly, walking forward. There was no reply. She said his name again, but still there was nothing. She winced as she bumped into something just in front of her. Feeling it gingerly she realised it was a chair.

"Sit down," said a voice from nowhere. It was electronically distorted. Feeling her way carefully around the chair, Catherine did so. No sooner had she placed her arms on the rests than steel restraints slid out from them, trapping her there. Similar bonds wrapped around her ankles.

"A precaution, nothing more," spoke the same electronic voice. "I apologise for the…. awkwardness of this meeting, but it was necessary."

"Mr. Zento?" she asked softly.

"No. He is busy elsewhere." Even through the distortion, the politeness in the voice came through. Urbane, civilised, efficient, and no one she knew. "I was given the task of conducting this interview."

"What is this about?"

"What does the name G'Kar mean to you?"

A cold sweat gripped her. "Just a name," she replied. "Just…. a name."

"Uh-uh, Miss Sakai. I am afraid that is a lie. Please try to tell the truth. This will go so much more easily if you do. You know more than just his name."

She swallowed harshly. "What is this about?"

"An interview, as I told you. A means to determine…. various issues important to the company at this time. Now again, please answer the question, or certain…. less pleasant methods will have to be employed."

"G'Kar…." she said. Her mouth felt very dry. "A former member of the Narn Government body…. the Kha'Ri. A war hero during their first war with the Centauri. He resigned under mysterious circumstances towards the end of that war, and disappeared. Rumour described him as a prominent preacher of some sort, wandering his homeworld, before he disappeared again just over two years ago. No one has seen him since."

"Not quite no one, Miss Sakai. That is an awful lot of information about a Narn, is it not?"

"He was an important figure. Very prominent."

"Oh yes, but still. You have been investigating him, have you not? Out of a certain…. personal interest. Explain why."

"His name appeared in relation to various…. anomalies in our shipping records. Periods of time unaccounted for, unrecorded journeys."

"I see. And how is he connected to these anomalies?"

"His name appeared somewhere in most of the shipping records. His name or that of others in the Kha'Ri…. all affiliates of his from his time in the Kha'Ri."

"And your conclusion? I trust you have made one."

"I think certain elements within this company have a deal with G'Kar, and are arranging valuable shipments to him, or others in the Narn Government. For what reason, I do not know."

"And what would these shipments consist of?"

"The actual cargoes on the ships which were diverted were all along the lines of weapons technology, genetics information and gene strands, and metals necessary for jump gate construction."

"I see. Is there any trace of such cargoes going missing?"

"No, but I feel the cargo manifests may have been filled in incorrectly."

"Well, my congratulations on such a thorough investigation, Miss Sakai. This matter is now out of your hands. Do not speak to anyone of it, do not continue any investigations, and never mention the name of G'Kar to anyone at all. Resume your normal duties."

"Yes," she said, angrily. She did not like any of this.

"Oh, one last question, Miss Sakai. Are you involved with anyone at the moment?"

She started, and it took her a moment to regain her composure, such as it was in this situation. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I am. Why?"

"Just curious." The metal restraints around her wrists and ankles slid back. She began rubbing at her wrists. "You may go now. Leave by the same way you entered. Good day, Miss Sakai."

"I'm…. well…. this is amazing."

G'Kar's holographic form bowed in mock homage. "Indeed. Babylon Four. The project that never was."

"I…. we were going to build this. We had all the plans drawn up…. everything. It was going to serve as a battle station, a rallying point…. everything."

"As it will yet, but for a war far greater than yours, or even mine. The Shadow War is coming, and sooner than we would like. They were delayed greatly by their losses at the battle of the Second Line, and perhaps…. scared a little by the Vorlon presence there. But now that the war between your people and the Minbari is over, and with the Drakh fleet destroyed…. I fear the Shadow War will soon progress to a far deadlier phase."

Captain John J. Sheridan nodded. "I think so too. It might take a little while, but…. sooner or later…."

"We are hoping later, of course. Babylon Four is not yet complete." Sheridan gave him a cautious glance. "Oh, all the major systems are operational. Navigation, communications, life support, the ion engines and so on. There are just minor details, little bits which still need fixing. We have rushed construction through as fast as we dared. It was inevitable that some details would get…. lost along the way."

"Exactly as I saw it…." Sheridan whispered. He drew in a deep breath. He had been one of those who had helped with the fourth mission of the Babylon Project. He had had input into the drawing up of the plans and in scouting out suitable locations.

And then the Minbari had launched a renewed attack on Orion and grandiose schemes of counterattacks had gone completely out of the window. Sheridan sighed. Everyone had lost a great deal at Orion.

But there was something else. A year and a half ago…. just after G'Kar had entered the Heart of the Great Machine…. Sheridan and Delenn and…. others…. had seen Babylon 4, disappearing backwards in time. A great battle had been fought there, one he could only dimly remember.

"I know," G'Kar said, evidently reading Sheridan's thoughts. "This station has a greater destiny than just this war. It will be sent back in time to aid in the last Shadow War. But first…. let us hope it serves us well enough."

"It will go back in time with Valen," came the muted reply. Sheridan rubbed at his eyes. All these time travel shenanigans made his head ache.

"Yes, I have heard about everything that has happened on Minbar," G'Kar said. "I will have to talk to this…. Valen soon. He is who he claims to be, I suppose?"

"Delenn certainly thinks so. Even Sinoval seemed to accept it, although a bit more reluctantly. I…. I'm not so sure, although it is possible. I knew Jeffrey Sinclair…. whom Valen claims he used to be…. well, before…. Ah hell, you know what I mean."

"The mysteries of time travel, Captain. Some days I think both our languages are lacking some very useful linguistic subtleties."

"Heh…. don't tell Delenn that. She'd probably try and teach us some of hers. Anyway, I knew Jeffrey Sinclair. We were at the academy together. I don't remember him all that well, but little details, the speech, the stance, the bearing…. so on. He is Jeffrey Sinclair. I'm certain of it."

"Then he may be Valen as well. I will have to talk with him soon. Primarch Sinoval as well. We have to tie as many of our allies together as we can for the coming storm. Babylon Four was built to unite us. We are too spread out at the moment. The United Alliance at Kazomi Seven, Mr. Bester at Sanctuary, the Minbari here, there and everywhere, my own agents on Narn…. We are too dispersed. Babylon Four will bring us together…. or so I hope."

"I can't get over just how…. familiar it looks."

"I had access to the original plans in the Machine. Everything was copied as closely as possible. Allies of mine in your Government helped with some of the materials."

Sheridan started at the mention of human allies, but he did not ask. G'Kar had his secrets, and he knew a great deal more than he was telling anyone. Necessary, Sheridan supposed, but awfully risky as well.

"Anyway…. I have a request for you."

"You wish to return to Kazomi Seven?" G'Kar said, and he smiled as Sheridan started. "It is not that difficult to notice. I swear I may be turning into a Centauri, may G'Quan save me from that fate! It is dangerous here. We are not…. well defended. Some of my Narn ships are here, it is true, but Captain Mollari has returned to his homeworld."

Sheridan started. He had known Carn…. a little. "He was a good captain. We'll miss him."

"I hope it is only temporary, but there is great upheaval on Centauri Prime. Probably little more than politicking, but I cannot be sure. Even if it is merely what the Centauri call 'the Great Game', it is still a great risk. I have heard little from my agents there for some time. I am troubled." He shook his head sadly.

"No, Captain, you may return to Kazomi Seven. We have enough ships here to protect this station for the time being, and hopefully the day will come soon when the Alliance will be moved here. Besides, dark days are coming, and love must be allowed to shine in what little time we have. Bester will not be pleased, no doubt, but he still has Captain Ben Zayn and the Ozymandias, so he can survive. And he understands the importance of defending the new Alliance just as we do."

Sheridan shrugged. He did not like the idea of G'Kar allied with someone like Bester, but war made for strange bedfellows, as the saying went.

"Thank you, G'Kar. With your permission, we will leave tomorrow. Some of my crew are engaged in various duties around here."

"Ah yes. Thank Lieutenant Connally for me. My people are not used to flying in your Starfuries, but they are superior to our own flyers — may G'Quan blacken my tongue for saying so — and the bays here were designed for Starfuries. Her training is invaluable."

"A question…. why did you build the Starfury bays? Wouldn't designs for your own flyers be easier?"

"We cannot defy history, Captain. I pray you are not needed here for a while at least."

"So do I," Sheridan agreed. He reached out to touch the wall at his side, half afraid that it would disappear at his touch.

"So do I," he repeated softly, his heart many light years away.

"One…. last question," G'Kar said softly. "Has any of your crew experienced…. anything…. unusual?"

"Unusual? No, not that I'm aware of. I suppose David might know before I would, but…. no, I can't think of anything. Why?"

G'Kar waved an arm in negation. "Nothing. Just…. ghosts in the machine, so to say. Nothing serious."

"If you say so." Sheridan did not believe him.

They listened to him, unable to do anything else. Not just Minbari, but everyone there. Drazi guards, Brakiri clerks, Hyach customs officials. Even Taan Churok listened, an almost rapt expression on his face. Delenn was unable to tear herself away from the beauty and power of his words.

Even Delenn, who knew the truth about the one they knew as Valen, even she was helpless before the power of his oratory. His words fired and enraptured, captivated and liberated. They were the golden rain on the green fields, the silver skies, the shining stars at twilight.

And finally, the speech done, he bowed gently and walked out among his people, receiving the comforts of their touch, their prayers, and their blessings. All accepted beyond doubt that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, as indeed he was. Or, more accurately, as he would be a thousand years in the past.

It was his presence here which had done so much to bring Minbari attention to the United Alliance, even led as it was by an outcast such as Delenn.

"Pretty words," grunted Taan Churok. He sounded moved. Anyone would be, even a Drazi. He shook his head, as if attempting to rid himself of an annoying insect buzzing around him.

"Words from old," Delenn agreed softly. She could not remember the bulk of his speech — she doubted anyone could; it was the words, not the meaning which mattered — but she had recognised faint traces. This line, from the 'Times to Come' speech on Mount H'leya — that image from the triumphant arrival at Z'ha'dum — a metaphor first spoken at the first assembly of the Grey Council. Jeffrey Sinclair possessed all the memories of the Valen he would become, a thousand years before. They had been implanted into him by the Vorlons, erasing in the process almost everything that had made him Jeffrey Sinclair.

She looked at him, basking in the adulation of his people, and reflecting that adulation back to them. He was so beautiful….

Her personal communicator beeped and she picked it up, somewhat awkwardly, from her side. A Centauri instrument, bought and modified by the Brakiri. Such a device felt…. alien to her, but she accepted it.

It was Lethke, former head of the Brakiri Trading Guild here on Kazomi 7, and now Minister for the Economy.

"Delenn," he said, his flawless politeness the result of both years of diplomatic experience and a genuine liking for Delenn, "we have received the documentation from Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar of which you wished to be kept informed. It contains the details of the Babylon Four station he has built, as well as certain…. confidential matters to be shown only to you."

She sighed softly. "Of course, Lethke. Thank you for informing me. I will be with you in a moment." A tremor passed through her, a memory of the past, and the not-too-distant future.

She looked at Taan Churok, and then at Valen, and sighed softly as she left the presence of the most beautiful spirit she had ever known, to dwell on what his — and her — future might be.

Catherine was in a strange mood for the rest of the day, not altogether surprisingly. Her ambiguous meeting had raised more questions than it had answered concerning the G'Kar mystery, and the fact that she had been ordered to forget all about this only puzzled her the more. The order to prepare the report which had led to her discovery of the G'Kar Files had come from Zento's own office.

An hour or so after her return from the 'meeting' two men she did not recognise but with appropriate IDs had taken all her copies of her unfinished report. She had spent the rest of the day in a fugue, working idly at various sundry items she had neglected during the investigation of the G'Kar problem.

For the first time in months she had left work on time. She made her way home, her mind still engulfed by the events of the day. Nothing about this made any sense. Nothing.

The hovertransports were busier than she remembered, and being surrounded by the chatter and bustle only deepened her dark mood. Far too many of the conversations were about war. With the Minbari crushed, where now? Some people seemed to think the Narns, or perhaps the Centauri. Maybe even a few of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The economy was on an upswing at last and a continuing war was thought to be the means to keep it that way.

She arrived home almost without realising it, her feet taking her to the door of her apartment on autopilot. As she stepped inside, she heard the sound of the news reports from the vidscreen and realised Dan must be home.

Sure enough he was, lounging in front of the vidscreen. Catherine caught a snatch of the report — "…. for a quick summary of the news today. Rumours from the Resistance Government suggest that President Clark may be considering relaxing some of the Wartime Emergency Measures which have been in force for the past thirteen years. Foremost among the initiatives are believed to be reductions in rationing, and the repeal of certain interstellar travel restrictions.

"Also, the new Warlock class vessel the Marten has been officially launched today. Captain Walker Smith commented only — 'It's a fine ship, with a fine crew. We're going to do well.'

"And finally, the memorial service for former President Marie Crane was held today. She was President of the Resistance Government for eight years, retiring due to ill-health last January. She never recovered from the multiple ailments attributed to the stress of her time in office. President Clark praised her sacrifice and promised to continue in her memory…."

Dan suddenly noticed Catherine's arrival and switched off the screen. "Hi," he said, looking puzzled. "You're early. Cracked that big mystery you were on about?"

Catherine sighed. "That's…. one way to put it." She sank down on to the chair next to him and let him wrap his arm around her. "It's been a…. weird day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Ah…. maybe when I've got it sorted out in my head. How's your research going?"

He grimaced. Dan Randall had once been an investigative journalist. Quite a famous one, too. But after a particularly…. unpleasant report had aired about the way human miners were being treated on the Narn-run colony of Vega 7, the furious Kha'Ri had been on the verge of having him executed. In an effort to stave off an incident, ISN had fired him. He now worked as a freelance researcher for various companies, currently compiling statistics for the Department of Public Information.

"Ah, you caught me," he confessed, a guilty smile on his face. "I've been lounging around watching the sports all day." Catherine sighed, and shook her head. The first football tournament since the beginning of the war was being aired, and some of the teams were discovering certain…. intriguing possibilities with the Proxima gravity.

"Comes of not having you around to bully me into working."

"I'll bet," she smiled.

"How's about I make you some re-caff and you can persuade me to get some work done."

"That would be perfect."

As he went to the kitchen, Catherine found her mind coming back again to the mystery surrounding her. She had not spoken to Dan about it before — and her gentle questions by way of research had been carefully chosen to elicit as few suspicions as possible. Of course Dan was always suspicious, but Catherine had tried to make her questions seem routine. Sharing classified IPX information with unauthorised personnel would lead to major trouble, but it was getting to the stage where her curiosity was outweighing her good sense.

Besides, it wasn't IPX business any longer. Just…. personal interest. Right?

"Dan," she called into the kitchen. "What do you know about a Narn called G'Kar?"

"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar?" he called back. Catherine, faintly recognising the term for a Narn preacher, shouted back in the affirmative. "Not as much as I'd like," came the reply. "Once a big fellow in the Kha'Ri. Disappeared on some sort of personal mission some years ago. Still got his fingers in a number of pies, though. Why the interest?"

"Would he have any connection with…. with IPX, at all?"

"Certainly possible. If any Narn would have, it'd be him. He's not quite as xenophobic as some of his fellows. He's got an aide of some sort who comes here from time to time. I'll remember his name in a minute."

"That's a fair bit."

"Well, you know me. Even when I'm not working, the old instincts linger. It's surprising how much you overhear even when you're not trying."

He came back to the couch, carrying two mugs of the nearest thing to coffee available in the post-fall days. Catherine took her mug with a smile and, kicking off her shoes, swung her legs up onto the sofa.

"Why the interest?" Dan asked again, sitting down beside her.

"He's…. involved in IPX somehow. I'm certain of it. At a fairly high level too." She sipped the coffee. It didn't taste of anything at all. "For what reason I can only guess."

"I'll have a poke around tomorrow, if you like. Rustle up a few old contacts. They might know something a bit more recent…. like if this aide of his is in town. Ah…. what was his name? The door chimed and Dan looked up. "I'll get it," he said, rising to his feet and putting his coffee on the table. "Probably the other woman who was supposed to come round when you were out." He grinned, and Catherine smiled back, albeit somewhat weakly.

Her senses were a bit dulled at the moment, but she still heard the buzz of a PPG charging just as Dan opened the door. Acting on instinct she spun round, dropping her coffee, droplets scattering black rain everywhere. She shouted a warning, but it was too late.

Far too late.

The thump of a body hitting the floor coincided with the sound of her cup shattering.

The speeches were over and business had returned to something resembling normality at Kazomi 7's spaceport. Delenn had gone to meet with Lethke. Taan Churok and Vejar remained, working as hard as they ever did, and Valen…. he had left too.

For a while he had stood there, the love and adoration of his people enveloping him, and he reflecting it back towards them. The wave of ill-feeling resulting from the fate of the Keeper's host had evaporated, and conversation was now lively — if quiet — and filled with wonder.

Valen drifted through the streets and alleys of Kazomi 7, his mind elevated on a higher plane. Few who saw him could comprehend the thoughts raging through his mind. Only one person he had met since his…. change had been able to identify with him and she…. was away. Besides, she had been changed almost as much as he had.

He remembered so much, some that had happened, some that had not. He could see clearly the slopes of Mount H'leya as he addressed the throng of his own people and others. He could hear the words of his speech as easily as if they were being spoken now beside him.

And yet he could not remember where he had been born, or the name of the first woman he had kissed, or even the name of his brother.

Many times he had pondered on the strangeness of this, and he had come up with many answers. Some satisfied him. Most did not.

But then, there had been very few people he could ever remember who had any sense of…. of centre. Any point of focus around which their lives were based. Marrain — a name and a face he knew but who had been dead for centuries — he had been thus focussed. For a while at least. His whole life had been based around one thing, and when that base was shattered he had fallen, and never recovered.

"I should have led!" the familiar voice cried out, one arm pointing across the room. "I was worthy, more worthy than you! I challenge you, as our people have always settled our differences. Here…. in the heart of the Wheel."

He shook his head sadly. He had known almost instantly that Marrain had not wanted to kill him. Oh no, he had wanted to die there. Some small element of what he had been had remained. As it happened, Marrain had not died then. Unable to bear the pain of the Starfire Wheel he had fallen free, crawling into the shadows at the corner of the temple, to watch.

He remembered…. raising his arms, letting the brutal radiation flow over him, into him. He was not afraid. He knew what to do. He knew….

He sighed, and pulled his thoughts back to the present. What had happened to Marrain in the end? He hoped he had found the peace he had searched for, but somehow he doubted it.

Few indeed with that point of focus. But one who was still alive….

He had spoken to Sinoval…. when…. a few days ago? Delenn had been discussing the problems with the Keepers and the refugees. She had then been called away, and Valen, out of curiosity, had stepped forward and continued the conversation.

Sinoval's dark eyes had narrowed, but he had been willing to speak. He still did not like the one who purported to be Valen, although primarily because of Vorlon involvement in the affair. "Good day," Sinoval had said. "How are you?" His words had been polite but hard. There was little warmth in anything he said.

"Well." Speaking with Sinoval was so like speaking to Marrain. He would look for the deeper meaning behind each word and rarely hesitated to make judgements based on what he saw there. "Delenn has spoken to you of the…." He paused. There had been a different name for the things in his day…. what had Delenn called them? "The Keepers…."

"Yes. We have found some here. Fortunately we have our own methods of detecting and destroying them. I would offer their help to you, but I fear their aid would come at a price higher than you would wish to pay."

The Soul Hunters, of course. Sinoval had made some sort of bargain with them. Valen wondered idly if some report of the Enaid Accord had survived. Unlikely, of course, since it had been very secret even then. Still, the alliance with the Soul Hunters had been very beneficial for a while — but a lot can happen in a thousand years, and no alliance lasts forever. Sinoval must have offered more than Valen had been able to offer.

"How do you think the…. Keepers came to be attached to our people?"

"The Enemy, the humans…. there are a number of possibilities. Rest assured those responsible will not survive much longer. A good evening and a good rest." The screen had faded and Valen sat back, puzzled.

He was still at a loss to understand Sinoval's antipathy towards him. Perhaps it was the Vorlons, although there seemed to be more to it than that. It might well be little more than the reasons which had turned Marrain away from the light. Marrain had been so focussed and sure, and the source of that focus was that he was the greatest warrior of his age…. perhaps ever. He had been strong, fast, skilled, wise. And then along had come one who was stronger, faster, more skilled, wiser.

Valen looked up and sighed. He had been wandering for longer than he had thought. It was time to return to Delenn. There was…. work ahead.

She was not quite sure how she had escaped from the sights of the gunmen. She had hidden, but even a cursory search would have revealed her hiding place within seconds. The assailants did not seem interested in her however. From her position beside the door to the kitchen she could hear at least two people moving around. Their movements were precise and definite, as if they knew exactly what they were looking for. Within minutes they were gone. Catherine finally allowed herself to breathe again after she heard the door close. Slowly, she crept out of the kitchen and looked around. Little seemed disturbed. Nothing of any value seemed to have been taken. Just….

Her personal computer. She could see almost immediately that it had been touched, and she knew without checking what would have been taken.

The G'Kar Files. Project Bermuda Triangle. It was the only thing of any interest stored there.

But very few people knew about that file, very few….

Unless this came from IPX themselves, but why…. or who…. or….

She realised just how quickly her thoughts had been running and she breathed out slowly, finally bringing herself to look at the one thing she did not want to look at.

For all that she wished to believe otherwise, there was no escaping it. A single glance showed her that Dan was dead. The shot had hit him point blank in the chest. There were traces of blood, but the wound had been cauterised almost instantly. He was dead.

Catherine swayed backwards and fell on to her chair…. where he had been sitting mere moments before. Her mind was reeling, but she forced herself to think.

Could this have been directed at him? He had a fair few enemies, that was certain. Maybe it was something he had been working on, something he had unwittingly stumbled upon without knowing it. Maybe….

Maybe she wouldn't have to hide somewhere else.

She wasn't crying, she couldn't. She…. she didn't know.

The G'Kar Files. It must have been.

Run. That was the only option. If this was connected to IPX then it was too big just for her. She needed help…. from somewhere. Had this been to find out what she knew? Then why the strange meeting earlier?

Stop thinking. She grabbed as much stuff as she could and fled. Time for thinking — and mourning — later. She needed help, and she knew where to find it.

Will you come to find me?

He looked around, puzzled. Everything was darkness. There was nothing to be seen or heard or felt.

Only her voice.

Will you come to find me?

He knew instantly whose voice it was.

Find me….

Will you follow me through darkness, through fire, past death and despair?

Find me…. please.

He picked a direction and began to walk. He did not know why he chose this direction rather than any other, but it seemed fitting.

Light engulfed him. A brilliant, dazzling light. He raised his hands. The light was hurting him.

There she was, chained as if set out for a sacrifice.

"I am lost in darkness!" she cried. "Find me. I am here for you."

And then they were…. around him. They were not in the light — they were the light. They spoke to him, and their words chilled him.

Follow us into darkness, into fire, past death and despair.

The darkness or the light. Choose.

"I…. I'm afraid of the darkness."

Then do what must be done.

He knew what to do. There was a dagger in his hand. Perhaps it had always been there. He stepped forward and looked into her eyes.

"I am lost in darkness for you," she whispered, staring at him. There was no fear, no accusation, only…. acceptance in her eyes. "I came here for you. There was no other way."

"I am afraid of the darkness," he repeated.

"No," she said softly. "I am afraid of the light."

Follow us.

He raised his hand. There was a trace of pity in Delenn's emerald eyes as Sheridan drove the dagger into her, killing her with one stroke.

Chapter 2

"Tell me, Miss Hampton, what is the current situation on the Sakai problem?" "Everything is proceeding as you planned, sir. Her partner was killed, and Sakai escaped. We have her under surveillance, and she is currently heading for Dome Three."

"Hmm…. is there any likely indication of why she is going there?"

"Little accurate information. Records do show that Miss Sakai has several friends and associates there. One in particular has some influence and a little power. A Miss Julie Musante. A former member of the Ministry for the Interior and currently a private lawyer specialising in interstellar commercial law…."

"Yes, yes, Miss Hampton. Thank you for your information. Maintain surveillance on Miss Sakai and inform our agents in Dome Three. Also…. establish a base of operations somewhere near Miss Musante's residence."

"Yes, sir."

The conversation ended and the man sat back, stretching out in his chair, the one item of luxury in an otherwise spartan office. "You see, Mr. Zento. Everything is going according to plan."

"I still don't see the point of this, sir," replied a man many would identify as being one of the richest and most influential in what remained of the Earth Alliance. "Surely we could have managed this with much less effort…."

"Oh, if it was just our own concerns involved, then yes, of course we could. But…. we are working on orders from a different source here, Mr. Zento, and they, for whatever reason, want Miss Sakai put through the proverbial wringer. We can only assume that their reasons are important and do as we are told. Everyone, Mr. Zento, answers to somebody, and I am no exception. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do, sir."

"Good. I am glad this is going so well thus far. I had anticipated it being much harder. Oh well, sometimes the Gods smile on us. If not on others…. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm an atheist, sir."

"Ah, that is a pity. One should always have something to believe in, Mr. Zento. Something to pray to, something to curse…."

"If you say so, sir."

"Ah." He fell silent. "Ah," he repeated, more sadly than before.

Both of them resumed their waiting.

"This is a beautiful place."

Delenn looked at her companion thoughtfully. For all that Valen — or Jeffrey Sinclair — represented, she was still unsure of his status and her relationship with him. There was so much about him she simply could not understand, and was not sure she wanted to understand. He was a legend and a hero and…. now…. he was what?

"How so?" she asked softly.

It had been a long day, but with as much work done as she could reasonably cope with she had gone for a walk, feeling the light and the darkness of her new home. He had come across to her and joined her. No word had been spoken and none had been offered…. until now.

"There is hope here. A hope for the future. Something I have seen so rarely…. except in the last days of the war, and then only briefly."

"But…. after the war, surely? There was hope then? A time for rebuilding and healing…."

"A time of hardship and betrayal. The war lasted so long, too many just did not know what peace was meant to be. The clans warred among each other for years afterwards. It took decades for the Grey Council to be accepted and even longer for a true balance of power to be struck. And then there was Marrain…. No, the war might have been over, but the aftermath…. that still endures even now."

"Marrain, yes…." Delenn said his name softly. Some — mostly religious caste, it had to be said — referred to him as 'the Betrayer'.

"A great man…. once. Time…. and darkness…. can seize us all."

"You are maudlin today," she whispered softly.

"Perhaps…. I am remembering a great deal, some of which I have not yet experienced, some of which I have. My thoughts often come back to Derannimer."

"Yes…. We know so little of her. She led the Grey Council for many years after you…. went beyond."

He stopped and looked a little surprised. "She did? That is good to know."

"You did not know?"

"No. Not everything. I…. recall making her my successor, but not how she would endure. I am glad she did well. She was…. a beautiful person. Not just in flesh, but in spirit. She shone so brightly…. That light once shone also in Marrain and Parlonn, but there is no light so bright it can never be eclipsed by shadows."

She nodded, and an uncomfortable silence fell across them both. Finally, he spoke again.

"Tell me…. Delenn. Do you know what became of our children? Derannimer and I…. we had children."

She shook her head sadly. "No. Your descendants left Minbar after you…. passed beyond. Some must have returned later, but we know little. Not even their names."

"Nor do I." She looked at him. "I cannot remember their names, or even how many there were. I struggle to recall, but it is like a net around my mind. So much I do not know…. Cathrenn. A daughter. We…. called her Cathrenn."

"Did you look through our records while you were on Minbar? I am sure some survived…. on the Valentha at least. Perhaps…."

"No." Soft, but certain. "No, I could not. The…. the Vorlons…. I did not think they would let me. What I do remember they have programmed into me. I doubt I would be permitted to know anything else."

"It is sad. I find it hard to reconcile these last few revelations with the Vorlons I have always…. liked to think I knew. I wonder if…."

"There are factions, I think. The Vorlons are powerful, yes, but they do not all think alike. At least not in any way we can comprehend. My presence among you is the result of a compromise of sorts between the factions. What the other half of this compromise will be…. I do not know."

"Perhaps Lyta does," Delenn muttered. "Have you spoken to her recently?"

He shook his head. "She is…. elsewhere, with Captain Sheridan. Perhaps later, but for now, I am unsure. There is something within her…. Ah, how can I tell? I am probably acting on an instinct a thousand years out of date."

She smiled. "Perhaps, but I was always taught never to ignore instinct. The warrior caste swear by it."

"That may not be the best of recommendations."

Delenn laughed, and he smiled. "Yes," she said, smiling. "But still, not all of the warrior caste are as…." She searched for a word.

"Unprincipled?" he suggested.

"They have their own principles, I think. Very different from the rest of us. They now have the power in our society, and I fear for the fate of my people."

"You have done well enough for your people here. And not all of your people are Minbari."

She smiled. "Very true."

They reached the Main Government Building — what Vejar somewhat inexplicably had called the Neuadd — and Delenn came to a halt. "I have no doubt there is more business to attend to. And then I would like to meditate."

"I understand. And…. call someone, I believe?"

"I…. yes. Yes, I miss him."

"It takes no arcane knowledge to realise that. Nor does it take any foreknowledge of the future to know that you will be happy."

A cloud passed over her features. "Will we?" she said softly.

"Well, for a time at least."

She nodded, briefly, and began to mount the steps to the Neuadd. As she was halfway up, she paused, brief memories of an encounter near this spot with one possessed surfacing in her mind. "Will you be needing anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I will walk a little more. I must think and remember and…. enjoy this beautiful place you have here. Good fortune and peace be with you, Delenn."

"And with you…." She paused, unsure of what to call him. He had had no title in his earlier time, and 'Master' somehow did not seem appropriate.

He smiled, perhaps recognising her dilemma. "Delenn…. call me Jeffrey. It is a reminder of what I used to be. Perhaps of what I still am."

She nodded once, briefly. "Then be at peace…. Jeffrey."

It's tearing me apart!

Silence.

Voices. In his mind. In his soul.

His son. His wife. Where were they? He needed them. He was doing this for them…. wasn't he? A better place for them.

Running away. You're running away. Afraid of the future. You're running away!

No. Has to be done. Must be done. Do what's right. Do what must be done.

Running away.

Tearing…. me…. apart….

Gotta be one of the good guys….

…. 'cause there's way too many of the bad.

Tearing me ap….

Michael Garibaldi screamed as his body was torn in a million pieces, as his world exploded around him, and the voices stilled. Forever.

"Michael?" Garibaldi shook his head. "Are you all right?"

"Wha…. what?" he asked, disoriented. Who was talking to him? Who…?

"Are you all right?"

David. Of course. Commander Corwin. Two parts status report, three parts talk between friends. And yet…. something had….

Michael winced. For a moment he'd been somewhere else. Almost as if he were dreaming.

"Right, that's it. I'm calling Medlab." Garibaldi could see Corwin reaching for his link.

"No. No, don't worry. I'm fine. Really. Just…. must be a spot of migraine coming on. What were you saying again?"

"I was asking how Lianna was." Corwin did not look particularly convinced by the explanation.

"Oh, she's fine. Back on Sanctuary at the moment, of course. Looking after little Frank. Well, someone had to."

Corwin nodded. From what he remembered of the Captain's status report about this new…. Babylon 4 — and that was a hard concept to take — it had been a joint project between G'Kar and Bester. Some sort of rallying point, apparently. Some of Bester's people had come over from Sanctuary to supervise his involvement in the construction. Unfortunately Mary hadn't been one of them. At least not yet.

"And how's Frank? Must be…. nine months by now." Michael nodded. "Wow. Nine months. Doesn't time fly!"

"Yeah, a lot's happened since he was born."

"There's still a lot more going to happen. You mark my words."

"My, aren't we pessimistic."

"No." His tone was suddenly deadly serious. "No, certain."

"What? Did you suddenly become a prophet or something?"

"Something. Definitely something."

"And now, a repeat of the classic Reebo and Zooty film Howondaland Jones, Balgrog Hunter…."

Julie Musante sighed and switched off the viewscreen. There had been many hardships following the fall of Earth, but one of the most distressing, in her opinion anyway, was the lack of anything new on the screens these days. Repeats, more repeats and the news, and that was it.

She stretched, and silently debated between going to bed or clearing up after her dinner. At least the food options had improved recently, ever since President Clark had pulled off that 'diplomatic coup' with the Narns. Rationing had even been relaxed a little. Of course, all the food was Narn, but every silver lining had a cloud.

The question wasn't a hard one and bed won out again. Yawning, she had begun to make for the bedroom when her door chimed.

Unfortunately for Julie, not many people tended to ring at her door at this time of night, and the ones who did were not the people she preferred to be at her door at this time of night — i. e. the tall, dark and handsome.

"This is trouble," she muttered prophetically. "Who is it?"

"Security forces," came back a harsh voice. Julie started. Security? This must be bad.

"Open."

No sooner was the door open than five security officers rushed in. All were carrying ready PPGs and were looking less than pleased to be here. "What is this ab…?" Julie began to ask, before realising that they were ignoring her, and making a swift search of her room. "Hey!" she cried as one of them began opening her wardrobe.

"We apologise for the inconvenience, Miss Musante." She started, and saw a man walk in. He was dressed conservatively in a business suit, and had one hand in his trouser pocket. He stopped before Julie and bowed his head slightly. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Morden."

"What's this all about?" Julie asked again. "Is this a raid of some sort? And who are you?"

A slight smile graced his face. It didn't help. He looked very…. charming. Too charming by far. "No, not a raid. I am a…. freelance consultant, let us say. For the moment I am carrying out some work for Interplanetary Expeditions, who need various…. skills and contacts I possess. This matter concerns them, and someone of your acquaintance."

One of the security guards came up to this…. Morden. "The place is clean, sir," he said. "She isn't here."

"Who isn't?" but Julie was ignored.

"Ah, well done, Jack. Take position now." The guard nodded, and Morden turned back to Julie. "As I was saying, this matter concerns someone of your acquaintance…. a Miss Catherine Sakai. You do know her, I believe?"

"Yes, I do. Why? Is she is in some of trouble?"

"That is…. one very diplomatic way of putting it, yes. She is in a great deal of trouble. It appears she has been doing some things she should not have been doing. Contact with alien governments for a start."

"What? That's im…." She looked at him closely. Something in his eyes seemed to bewitch her. For a moment it seemed as though they were shining a brilliant golden. "That's…." She was trying to focus. "That can't be right. Can it?"

"Oh, we are afraid it is. We also have reason to believe she may be coming here at some point tonight. Now, we will need you to do something when she arrives. Can we count on your help?"

"…. Yes…. yes, I'll do whatever you want me to."

He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Now there's an offer and a half. Very well…. this is what we need you to do…."

"Be well, Captain. Extend my good wishes to the Alliance."

Sheridan nodded. "We will. Good luck with the rest of this, G'Kar. If you need us, just call."

"I will."

G'Kar's holographic form disappeared. Corwin shivered.

"I will never ever in a million years get used to that," he said. "Never ever."

Sheridan chuckled. "After all we've seen so far, a mere holographic Narn freaks you out. After Vorlons, Shadows, Drakh…. Minbari!"

"It has been an interesting life, hasn't it?"

"Well, as the curse says, 'May you live in interesting times'."

"Sometimes I'd settle for the boring times for a while."

Sheridan swivelled on his chair. "What's wrong, David?"

"I…. I just hoped I'd get to see Mary while I was here. But she's still on Sanctuary. It's just…. ah, it's nothing."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long."

"Don't worry. You'll see her again."

"I hope so. Well, Captain. You'll at least get to see your true love. To Kazomi Seven."

"Yes," Sheridan said hollowly. At least I'll get to see my true love.

I am lost in darkness for you.

"Yes. To Kazomi Seven."

Michael Garibaldi was sitting peacefully in the gardens of Babylon 4, looking at the flora around him and wondering idly if there was any pattern there. There probably was, but he couldn't see it. But then, as he would have to admit to himself, he was not really looking very hard.

"Ah…." said a familiar voice. " Greetings to you from Zathras, yes. Greetings indeed."

Garibaldi nodded. "Afternoon."

Zathras looked puzzled. "Yes. Yes, is afternoon. Zathras be knowing that already. Zathras can tell time very well, thank you."

"No, it was just a…. oh, never mind. Did you see Captain Sheridan when he was here? I heard he just left."

"Ah no. Zathras has not been having that pleasure."

"Really? I thought you'd met him before?"

"No no no no. Zathras has not been meeting Captain Sheridan. Zathras has met Captain Sheridan, yes. Zathras has not, but Zathras has. You see?"

"Yeah…. uh, no…. uh, whatever."

"No, see…. is quite simple. Zathras has not met Captain Sheridan, but Zathras has. Different pronunciation. Zathras. Zathras."

"Ah…. right. Okay. I'll take your word for it. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Zathras just travelling. Just…. enjoying the scenery. Zathras spend a lot of time here after all."

"Oh, you like it here, do you?"

"No. Zathras will spend a lot of time here. Will then. You see?"

"Oh…. forget it."

"So…. why were you being here?"

"Just…. thinking. A lot of things have been…. Everything's changing, and too damn fast if you ask me."

"Ah, change, yes. Change is good. No no…. wait, change is bad. No…. change is…. good and bad…. bad and good. Ah. Zathras have this sorted soon. Zathras…." He suddenly stopped dead in his conversation, and seemed to be listening to something else. The fact that there wasn't anything else to be listening to wasn't deterring him. Finally he spoke up again, with considerable — and surprising — force in his words.

"If Valen can listen to Zathras, you can listen to Zathras!"

"Valen?"

Zathras started, and seemed to realise that he was sitting next to Garibaldi. "Ah, is being nothing," he said, sounding distracted. "No…. no…. is being something. Is definitely being something. Something not good. Must tell G'Kar. Yes yes. G'Kar is must being told of this. Was…. pleasure speaking with you, Michael Baldi-Gary."

"Garibaldi!" he corrected, but it hardly mattered. The strange-looking alien was leaving, muttering incomprehensibly to himself.

Garibaldi sighed. Honestly, it seemed as if everything that could happen here, did.

That wasn't a good thing.

Maybe I am just being paranoid, Catherine was thinking to herself. Maybe I should just have called Security. Maybe this is completely unrelated to G'Kar and…. Maybe….

No matter how many times she told herself that, she wasn't getting any calmer. Her heart was still beating like a snare drum, her head ached and her mouth was dry.

Maybe this is just unwanted paranoia.

Still, she had to admit that her journey to Julie's had been…. uneventful. The transport tubes had all been in operation. No one had stopped or questioned her, not even any of the beggars who usually infested the transport stations. The security guards doing routine and random ID checks had passed her by. Everything was…. normal.

So why hadn't she calmed down yet?

The door to Julie's apartment was just in front her. No one suspicious was hanging around nearby. There was nothing to indicate that this was anything other than an ordinary night.

So why hadn't she calmed down yet?

Breathing in deeply, Catherine rang the chime. She wasn't expecting an immediate reply — it was late, after all, and Julie might well be asleep. She was therefore surprised to hear, within moments, "Who is it?"

"Catherine," she answered. "Look, I know it's late, but I have to come in. This might seem strange, but…."

"No problem." The door opened and Catherine, without really thinking, stepped inside. Julie was standing there, in the centre of the room. She was still fully dressed and obviously hadn't been woken up. The room was quite dark.

Catherine made sure the door had closed behind her, then she staggered in and collapsed into a chair.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked. "Catherine, what…?"

She was crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried — possibly even before the fall of Earth. But she was crying now. "I'm…." she began. "I'm in trouble…. so much trouble…. Dan, he's…. he's…."

"What?" Julie's voice was strangely flat — emotionless even — but Catherine didn't notice.

"He's…. dead!"

"Oh, my God. Have you called Security?"

"I don't…. I think they might have…. they might…. be involved…. somehow. I think this is connected to…." She suddenly looked up, something playing around the edges of her mind. "Julie, has someone been here?"

"No." Too quick. Too emphatic. Too…. certain.

"No? Someone…. I can…."

Catherine leapt to her feet, darting for the door, acting on an instinct she could not explain. Someone stepped out of the shadows to intercept her.

"Hello, Catherine," said Morden.

"That is unacceptable, Minister!"

"Unacceptable? Maybe, but it is the truth, nonetheless. Our resources are limited, Delenn. Running out they are. We cannot accommodate all these refugees."

Delenn fought to restrain a burning anger, one fired by injustice and suffering and the sight of her people reduced to begging for mercy from aliens.

One also fired by Minister Vizhak, Minister for Internal Affairs, arguing against admitting the wretched exiles of her people.

"They are fleeing from the same darkness that has claimed everyone here," she continued. "The Drakh destroyed this world. We all remember what they did here. Can we possibly wish that fate on others? We…. my people…. have suffered the same fate as this planet, and if we cannot offer them sanctuary, then how can we live with ourselves?"

"They have other options," persisted Vizhak.

"Yes," Delenn acknowledged. "They have slavery, they have death, or they have here. Which would you choose, Minister?"

"They can go to Sinoval. He claims to be their leader. Let him have them."

A chill crept up Delenn's spine. "No! They have come here in rejection of Sinoval. I will not send them to him."

"We cannot accommodate them! We cannot feed them. We cannot clothe them. They cannot come here."

Delenn flicked a glance at the Brakiri Minister for the Economy, Lethke. He rose slowly to his feet. "It is true that our economic situation is…. tight, to say the least. We have just begun the extensive trading programme my team and I have devised. As yet…. our resources are limited. We can accommodate some of those who have come here for sanctuary. But not all."

"We need more revenue?" Delenn asked. Lethke nodded. "Then we will have more revenue. We will find a way, but we will take in the refugees."

"We went to help the Minbari because we thought they would be allies," said Vizhak. "Not burdens."

"We went to help them because it was right and just that we do so! We will help all we can."

"But the cost?"

"We will find it," Lethke said. "Accept all you can, Delenn. We will find the money from somewhere."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. Besides, Minister Vizhak, my people will not burden you. Many of those who come here are from the worker caste. They will be happy to work."

He grunted. "Then let them work."

Morden stood over the body and sighed, his eyes for one brief moment still glowing golden.

"Well," he said, "that was constructive, at least."

"Your orders, sir?" asked the security guard, Jack.

"My orders…." His eyes flashed golden again, and he smiled. "Yes, she is the right one. We had to be sure, obviously. Still, my…. associates think she's been through enough now. You…. did record the direction she ran, of course?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. Then pick her up some time tonight. Whenever's most convenient. You know where to take her." He clicked his tongue lightly. "Yes, quite a productive evening."

He looked down at Julie Musante's dead body and nodded briefly.

They are my children, my people. We are special, unique, better than the others.

Alfred Bester was confused, an emotion most unfamiliar and most unwelcome. Especially now. He had always been so sure, so convinced of his place in life. As far back as he could remember, he had been clear and precise of thought. The Corps was mother, the Corps was father. He obeyed the Corps. He trusted the Corps. He believed in the Corps.

The Corps was gone now of course, but a part of it remained, in him, and in this place — Sanctuary. A legacy of numerous Corps projects, outfitted and renovated with resources secreted away long ago, allowed to endure at the behest of a strong Narn ally and a weak Resistance Government.

But things were changing. Their Narn ally was growing weaker, over-extending himself, risking everything in a futile war. G'Kar had been demanding more and more telepathic DNA from Bester and Sanctuary. His attempts at creating Narn telepaths had been successful at first, but the success was terminally short term. The quest would ultimately consume him.

And the Resistance Government…. they were growing stronger and stronger. Freed from the shackles of slavery, they now approached the Narn Government from a position of power rather than weakness. They had cannibalised Minbari ships and colonies and technology and were building a fleet at an extraordinary rate. Sooner or later, Bester knew, they would go up against G'Kar himself.

And there was little doubt who would win. The Resistance Government — if their war machine continued advancing at the projected rate — would soon be an even match for G'Kar's known resources. But with the aid of their Shadow allies….

Bester's resources — his two capital ships and his telepaths — could tip the conflict one way or the other.

Telepaths are my children. We are the future. We are the destiny.

His commscreen suddenly began flashing at him, and he started irritably. He knew who it would be, and he was right.

"Greetings, Mr. Welles," he said, smiling. Welles was not supposed to know this frequency, but he had found it out somehow. Very few secrets were safe from Proxima's Chief of Security.

"Mr. Bester. A pleasure as always. I should just let you know, your representative here, Miss Donne…. She committed another murder last night. She was quite clumsy this time, and chose inappropriately. A fairly high-ranking member of the Ministry of Trade. Pressure is mounting on me to find this murderer, both from our beloved President and from my own sense of justice. Have you reconsidered my offer?"

Bester was swearing inwardly. He had known for a long time that Donne had certain…. sociopathic tendencies, but so long as only mundanes were harmed, what did it matter? Evidently, it mattered to some.

"Put me in contact with G'Kar so that I may form a…. useful alliance with him, and I will ensure Donne is not blamed. Otherwise…. well, under the Wartime Emergency Provisions she would be executed if found guilty, which I assure you there is more than enough evidence to manage. I just want to speak with G'Kar."

"I will have to pass your request on to G'Kar, Mr. Welles," Bester said smoothly. "I will contact you again."

"Do not take too long." The image faded and Bester walked away from the screen, muttering to himself. That was one offer he had been made recently. There had been another — ostensibly from Ambassador Sheridan, but originating from a far more powerful source. That source wanted G'Kar betrayed…. utterly.

He weighed up the possibilities in his mind, thinking over and over again of his people — the ones who trusted him and who relied on him…. who needed him. He thought of the woman he loved, the child they had together and the ones they hoped for later.

And after several hours, a plan began to shape itself in his mind.

Catherine Sakai groaned softly as consciousness returned to her. Everything around her was dark, pitch black. But there was a more metaphorical darkness engulfing her as well.

She had seen them kill Julie, shooting her in the back without a second thought. Security guards. People wearing the uniform of security guards.

She hadn't been over-paranoid. She had been, if anything, not paranoid enough.

She had run, even managing to escape from Julie's apartment, but some time later — it could have been hours even — wandering around helplessly, she had been hit from behind, and fallen….

And now she was awake.

Lights suddenly came on all around her, and she shut her eyes from the pain. She tried to raise her hands to shield her face, but they were fixed to the chair she was sitting in.

"Greetings, Miss Sakai," said a voice she knew. Polite, polished, urbane, civilised….

She looked in the direction of the voice and saw a face she knew as well. The face of a man who was believed to have died years ago at Orion 7.

"I suppose you would like to know what has been happening, hmm?" asked William Edgars.

Chapter 3

Once upon a time there was a man with a dream, a simple dream — to explore the stars, to learn from the wonders dead races had left behind, to discover the past and to build a better future. And then there came other men, with other dreams — dreams of money, and power, and riches.

And from these men there came a company called Interplanetary Expeditions, and then there came power, and money. The company grew strong and wealthy, and those who commanded it commanded power and influence elsewhere, even in government.

And then there came a race of aliens called the Minbari. Seeking revenge for a wrong, they erased and destroyed countless dreams, and for a time even those who sought to discover the past in the name of the future found their goals in doubt.

But then there came a saviour, who made them an offer — an offer which seemed so innocuous, which seemed to give so much and ask so little in return. A simple favour, to be paid back at a future date.

This is that future date, and the favour asked for is being repaid.

It is not much, really. One person, just one soul against the countless others balanced out before them.

One person whose life — and death — will change the galaxy.

Captain John Sheridan could not resist a smile as he looked at the hall of the main spaceport on Kazomi 7. As a sign of the triumph of hope over despair, of construction over destruction, there could hardly be a better symbol.

He remembered arriving here last year, as the colony was only just recovering from the horrors of the Drakh occupation. He remembered the devastation, the pitiful cries of the starving and the dying, the signs of despair and terror.

And now…. Kazomi 7 was the centre of an Alliance — a precarious one, to be sure, but an Alliance of Worlds nonetheless. There was hope in the eyes of those around him, eyes that were gazing at the future as if they had forgotten what it looked like.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he remarked to his companion. Commander Corwin nodded briefly. He had been distracted almost since they had left Babylon 4. Still, he was looking at the numerous customs officials and arrivals here, noting each of them almost abstractly.

A young man in a black robe came towards them, his hands folded into a steeple before him. Sheridan recognised him as the technomage Vejar, and nodded to him briefly. He nodded back. "We bid you welcome, Starkiller," he said, in a precise, immaculate tone, almost like someone who knows how to speak but has never actually tried it before.

"It's a pleasure to be here, Vejar. We have some of the mineral samples your government asked G'Kar for."

"Ah, yes. I am sure Minister Lethke or Minister Churok will be here soon to take delivery of them. I believe they are planning some sort of scientific experiment in our quantium refining plants."

Sheridan nodded. Quantium-40 was a vital element in jump gate construction. Minister Lethke seemed to think he might be able to build a plant here to refine the raw elements into pure quantium-40. If that was true, then it would be a real boost to the Alliance's economy.

Sheridan looked at Vejar closely. The technomage seemed to be studying him. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"You have been…. touched. Someone…. is lost in darkness. Someone close to you."

Sheridan started. "What…? What do you mean?"

"You are marked. By the future, and by the past. You are touched somehow, and you have seen things you should not have seen. You have pierced the barrier between times…. Where have you been recently?"

"Recently? Well…. on patrol…. Babylon Four mainly. Why? What is this about?"

Vejar shook his head. "Ah, I fear it is nothing. Merely…. nothing. Has anything strange happened to you? Any…. visions, dreams perhaps?"

"I always dream. Who doesn't these days? Nothing serious though."

"Of course. My…. apologies for bothering you, Captain. I remember now that you have been involved with Vorlons at various times. That could explain a great deal. Good day."

He started to leave, but Sheridan stopped him. "Wait! Do you…. know where Delenn is?"

"She will be here in a moment." He gently pulled himself free of Sheridan's grip and nodded his head, before turning and moving away. Sheridan shook his head, and then turned to look at his companion. Corwin shrugged.

At that point, the figure of Sheridan's beloved appeared at the door.

All thought of the confusing conversation with Vejar left him as he ran towards Delenn, calling out her name. Smiling, she stepped forward and let him engulf her in his arms, lifting her up into the air and kissing her lightly.

"I missed you," he whispered to her, over and over again. "I missed you."

"John," she said, still smiling. "We were only apart a week."

"So? I still missed you." He lowered her back to the ground, but did not let go of her. Nor she of him, he noticed.

"And I you. It seems that…. any time we spend apart now is…." She paused, trying to find a word. Sheridan brushed her hair with his fingers, feeling the beating of her heart against his chest. "Hard," she whispered at last.

"I know. Still, we have some time here at least…. before anything else blows up in our faces. Why don't I try cooking for you tonight? We can…."

"I…. have another idea," she said, smiling. "My people have…. rituals for when a couple become…. close. A courtship among my people can take many years, but the rituals are designed to ensure that the couple are right and true for each other before the relationship is…. consummated."

"I think it's a bit late for that," he whispered, and she blushed.

"No. I know…. we cannot have a full Minbari courtship, and I would not expect it from you, not even if…. we had the time. But still, some rituals we have already passed through…. without knowing. Others…. we cannot perform here. But there are some. I would like us to perform one tonight, just…. as a reminder of how things might have been, and may yet become."

"Hey, you're the boss. You sat through my cooking after all, so I suppose I owe you something in return. I'd love to, Delenn."

"Good." She smiled, and then reached up to him, her lips lightly brushing against his. "Tonight?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Greetings, Miss Sakai. I suppose you would like to know what's been happening, hmm?"

To call that an understatement would be an understatement itself, Catherine Sakai thought, and one of galactic proportions. Two people close to her had died tonight, and…. and…. she wasn't sure what she was going to do, but yes, she definitely did want to know what had been happening.

But first, she wanted to know why she was in the company of a man who was supposed to be long dead.

William Edgars smiled and nodded. "Yes, I can see that…. recent events might have been a…. burden, and I would like to apologise for that. Alas, it was necessary, I assure you. Nothing I do is ever without reason."

Something clicked. Catherine was not sure how to react to the insanity of this — the man who seemed to be confessing to ordering the deaths of her lover and her best friend was apologising for doing so! — but her instincts were not dying down. The phrasing, the syntax, the grammar….

"You're the one who questioned me earlier?" she asked. "You…. asked me about the G'Kar File."

"Ah yes, that was me. I apologise for the deception, but it was necessary again. That was too important to entrust to anyone else and I was afraid you might have recognised my voice…. it has been a long time of course, but not that long. So, the distortion was necessary. Unfortunately there are other aspects of speech which cannot be so easily hidden. Ah well…."

"But…." Catherine shook her head. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Dead? Me? Well, maybe. Again, another deception. I'd made far too many enemies and there was a need to work…. behind the scenes, so to speak. Oh, I'm sorry. What am I thinking of?" He pressed a button on his desk and the restraints around Catherine's wrists slid open. She rose to her feet awkwardly. "Coffee? It's the real stuff, I assure you. Or perhaps orange juice? I do have some left here, you know. I used to love drinking orange juice as a child. Freshly squeezed, without any of the additives, preservatives, and bits and pieces we introduce to make our lives more bearable. No, sometimes I think nature was right in the beginning. Our lives are just too complicated now. Perhaps we should be thanking the Minbari for one thing. Whatever else we think of them, they have brought us back to the basics. Food, drink, shelter, survival…. What more do we truly need?"

"I don't know…. friendship, love, some kind of purpose?"

"Ah…. yes, perhaps. A romantic, then?"

"No. I just…. think there must be more than just survival. There's what we need to live, and there's why we want to live."

He nodded. "A…. wise attitude, and one returning to popularity, I believe. Oh, the coffee?" Catherine shook her head. She couldn't face anything at the moment.

"Now, I'm sure you have a number of questions, and this is…. for your benefit after all, so if you ask the questions, I'll attempt to answer them, to the best of my ability. Then we can sort out why you're here."

Questions. Yes. Answers…. yes, she wanted these too. Or did she?

"Why did you kill Dan?" she whispered. "And Julie? You…. were behind that?"

"Ah…. yes. Indirectly, I suppose. Mr. Randall was a…. complication who needed to be removed. Miss Musante was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mr. Morden assures me that her shooting was an unfortunate accident."

"An accident? You killed my best friend by accident?! And Dan, he was…. what? A complication? How can you talk about human lives that way? Don't they mean anything to you?"

"More than you'll ever know. But…. I see we'll have to do this another way. Care for a seat?" Catherine looked at the chair behind her suspiciously. "Oh no, not that one. There's one over here."

"I'd rather stand, thank you."

"As you wish. To begin…. well, at the beginning, I suppose, as a great man once said. Just after the war…."

Darkness was falling slowly over Kazomi 7. Valen — Jeffrey Sinclair — both — either — was standing on a balcony of the main building, watching thin tendrils of red light gradually retreating. He sighed, and was suddenly aware of a movement behind him.

"I'm sorry," said a not-unfamiliar voice. "I didn't realise…. I'll go…."

Valen turned, to see a human. It was one of those who had been present at the Rebirth Ceremony, the companion of Captain Sheridan. "No," he said softly. "Stay."

The human shrugged and stepped forward. He looked out over the horizon silently for a few minutes, lost in thought.

Valen studied him, and immediately found thousand-year-old memories rising to the forefront of his mind. This soldier…. Commander…. Corwin, that was it. He reminded him of many who had served under him…. before. Brave soldiers, noble warriors, good people, but…. always frustrated by how little they could serve, annoyed that their talents could only raise them so far. Each had reacted in different ways to this — some had sought to improve their talents and skills so that they could do all they desired; some had sunk into depression, into darkness, content with what they had when they could have had far more; and some…. some had let their own weaknesses twist and corrupt them, until they lost everything of what they had been…. like Marrain.

"I like it here," he said finally. "The city is full of such hope, a rebuilding from chaos and disaster, a look to the future."

"It's a place where millions died," replied Corwin. "I was here after the Drakh left, and there was no hope here then. Just people starving, and bleeding to death, and screaming from nightmares that never ended."

"And look at them now."

He snorted. "They're like children who are glad that their parents have stopped arguing, and afraid they'll start up again any time now. I'm looking, but I can't see…. anything."

"Why so pessimistic? You're sounding like…." He hesitated. Like Parlonn, who had looked out at the world and seen only darkness and despair. No matter how many times light was shown to him, he preferred to believe in the darkness. At the end, he had forgotten why he had ever been fighting.

"We bombed your world. We did. People just like me. We threw rocks from the sky, we poisoned your water and your ground, we brought so much death…. People like me. People who went back to Proxima after the battle, and went to wives and husbands, went to their family. 'And what did you do at work, today, darling?' 'I killed millions of people and destroyed an ancient civilisation. How about you?'" He laughed ironically, but it ended on a false note.

"Evil is within us all."

"I know that! But looking at it isn't easy. We were the good guys. All along we'd been the good guys." He shook his head. "Not any more. I'm wondering if we ever were." He paused, looking down. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You're…. one of them. Ever since Mars, there's been hardly anyone I could talk to about stuff like this. Susan's…. gone. The Captain…. has his own problems, and…. well…. there might be someone, but she's a long way away. I'd hoped to see her at Babylon Four, but she…. she wasn't there."

"Do you love her?"

"I…. I don't know. I think so, but then sometimes I think…. I don't know."

"Life is hard. Loving is even harder. There is evil in your soul, just as there is in mine, but that does not matter. You would never do what your people did at Minbar…. never. And you know you would not."

"Yeah…. yeah. I guess so, but…."

"There is one thing you must always remember, one thing the best of us have forgotten at times…. Why are you fighting?"

"Because…. it's…. in a good cause?"

Valen smiled. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"Because it's right."

"There you are. Remember that always, and never forget. The people who attacked Minbar…. they forgot."

He nodded. "I guess so." He left then, not saying another word.

Valen looked out over the cityscape. The last hints of sunlight had gone. The night was here. He sighed softly.

"So…. what is this ritual for, then?"

Delenn smiled and nodded, gesturing towards a small pattern drawn on the floor of her quarters. John looked at it, and cocked his head slightly. "It's…. a circle," he said. "Yup. Definitely a circle."

"Not just a circle," she corrected, with mock firmness.

"Um…. two circles joined together?"

"It represents the cycle of our lives. We are born, we live, each of us in our own circles of life…. At this point here," she pointed to a part of the pattern, "lives intersect and join, becoming one. Then, eventually…. the lives end, and we pass beyond." John looked down. Quickly, painfully, Delenn continued. "But the circle does not end." Her voice was thick. "It continues. We are born again, renewed. We live again. Death…. is not the end."

John nodded. "I…. see. Our…. souls will go on?"

"Yes. There are…. places where no shadows fall, where we can be united in death as we were in life, until our souls find new forms in new bodies."

"Ah…. yes. Do…. all your people believe this?"

"Most do. Not the warriors as such. They have…. different theories and beliefs, but my…. former…. caste, and the workers. Yes."

"So, what do we do in this ritual then?"

"It is quite simple. It is usually performed when…. the couple become so close as to be almost one. It is one of the final rituals before…. our spirits are joined, and become one."

"Right. Got you. I think."

"John." He looked at her. "I chose this ritual for what it symbolises as well as for what it is. I love you, and no matter what happens, we will be together…. afterwards."

He reached for her hand. "I believe you," he whispered.

Blinking away a single tear, she led him to the pattern drawn on the floor. There were three candles on the edge of the pattern — one at the top of one circle, another at the top of the other and the third in the area where they overlapped.

Delenn sat down in the centre of one circle, crossing her legs and resting there. John, following her lead, did the same in his circle. Slowly, she reached out her right arm, holding her hand above the centre candle, palm facing him.

"Do the same," she said. "Touch my hand."

Tentatively, John did so. Her palm was warm and soft against his.

"Now close your eyes," she whispered. Her eyes were already closed.

There was a silence, as thick and heavy as the grave. It touched him, battering at him like a storm front at a marble wall. Not even the sound of her breathing.

"What now?" he said at last, speaking so quietly he wasn't even sure he'd spoken at all.

"You'll know," she said, her words even quieter than his. "We'll both know."

And he did.

"The war destroyed far more than just our homeworld and our children. It destroyed our dreams as well. It destroyed our hopes and ambitions. We'd all thought we were the dominant force in the galaxy. We were the young bravos, wandering through the skies, righting wrongs, making allies, thinking we were creating a better universe just as we'd deluded ourselves we'd created a better Earth.

"Those dreams weren't just limited to the soldiers, you know. Yes, the Dilgar War had gone well, but all of us dreamed of superiority. Do you remember much about the years of expansion? No? A shame. It was an exciting time, a powerful time. Do you know the definition of a golden age? It is a time when so many things are wonderful and new and vibrant that they're all taken for granted. Well, maybe I'm just an old man, but that time was a golden age.

"You see, all we businessmen…. we all had dreams too. Admittedly ours were more along the lines of becoming fabulously rich rather than saving the galaxy, but there you go. I founded Edgars Industries just before the Dilgar War and soon saw an opportunity to expand it. Before the…. Minbari War we were not as powerful as I would have liked, but we did know what we were doing. We were arrogant and expanding and determined that we'd soon be rich.

"Just like the rest of humanity.

"And then came the war. We'll skip the historical details if you like. I'm sure you know them all. Edgars Industries was based on Mars and we had considerable off Solar System holdings, so we weren't as badly affected as some. IPX of course had even more extensive alien holdings than we did, so they fared even better.

"I remember escaping from Mars that night, watching as the skies above me were lit, not with red light, but with a multitude of falling stars. I could imagine the screams up there. I could only watch as the destiny of the human race was decided, right above my head.

"Ah, well…. Back to the point somewhat. I relocated to my Orion holdings after escaping from Mars. Things were…. tight then, and the Government needed as much revenue as it could get. Foreign trade was considered one of our top priorities. IPX, which by its nature had the largest alien holdings, began snapping up as many other companies as it could. AreTech was one of the biggest, but there were quite a few others. I managed to keep Edgars Industries solvent, thanks to some useful Government contracts for chemical research…. biological weapons and so forth.

"And then…. one night, I was woken from a fitful sleep by a very strange visitor. He made me a simple offer. I would have power, wealth, all the resources I needed, and a part to play in human destiny.

"All it would cost me would be owing this man a little favour.

"He wanted you…."

"Uh…. hi."

Valen turned, and smiled warmly as he saw the figure approaching him. "Lyta. Welcome."

"I was just…. that is, just wandering. I heard you were here and…."

"Please, stay with me."

"I will," she whispered.

And he saw….

Random images, thoughts and feelings, faces….

Some he recognised, some he did not. A Minbari he thought he knew. The one who had been standing next to G'Kar once…. He was kneeling, saying something. The words didn't matter so much as the meaning. Then he rose to his feet and, not saying a word, bowed and left. He knew he would never return.

"What?" John Sheridan whispered. Darkness was engulfing them, but there was a light, just ahead. He made for it.

A face he did not recognise, one he had seen once, but whose name he had forgotten. He was talking, in a scholarly, lecturing tone of voice. His words were…. important, somehow.

John blinked and staggered on. The light seemed further away than ever.

A face he had never seen. Coughing blood, trying to whisper something. Words he could not hear, could not understand. A sudden and shocking feeling of absolute grief, of absolute anger.

The light was there, directly before him. John blinked.

"Be one," said a voice.

Another voice. "I am lost in darkness for you." Her voice.

John started. That…. felt wrong. Very wrong. Out of place. A memory. A dream.

"I am lost in darkness for you."

"There is no darkness here," he said softly. "I love you, Delenn."

"Love is not enough," said the first voice. "To love, you must understand."

"I…. see."

"Be one, and understand."

"I will."

"I thought this man was joking, of course. A madman even. He offered me all the power, money, resources, everything I needed. He didn't explain how he could get me these things. He just said he had a number of…. associates he could call on to help.

"And so I asked him what he wanted in return….

"'Just a little favour. I've helped you out, so when we need help in turn, you'll owe us a favour. Simple as that.'

"'Ah…. Mr….. Morden, was it? Mr. Morden, I am an experienced businessman. I know a great deal about the give and take of bargaining. Nobody ever wants nothing for something. You came here for a very definite reason, and if you want to give me all these things you've promised, then it's because you think I can give you something back in return. What is it?'

"'Very perceptive, Mr. Edgars. I…. represent certain interested parties. Allies of humanity, you might say. Now, these associates of mine have a certain skill in foreseeing the future, and they have divined that one day, not too many years from now, a leader will arise. Someone very powerful, capable of changing the political alignment of the galaxy. My associates are waiting until the political climate is right for this leader to emerge, but he must be…. guided, controlled…. advised, even. My associates believe that there is one person uniquely suited to serve as liaison between us and this leader. Currently, she is working for Interplanetary Expeditions in a minor exploratory position. We would like you to guide her and keep her safe until such time as this leader arises. That is all.'

"'Who is this person? And what link does she have with this…. leader you expect?'

"'Her name…. is Catherine Sakai. And she has a greater link with him than you might imagine.'

"I asked for time to think about the matter, and this was granted. I used that time to check out your background and credentials, which were both most favourable. The next time Mr. Morden contacted me, I agreed to his offer.

"The next few months were ones of quite frantic activity. I contacted the executive board of IPX and arranged a takeover of my company. Very few of them knew the exact details of why I wanted that takeover, and only one knew just how much of my company was in fact being taken over. A young and dynamic board member named Orin Zento.

"This done, and with Edgars' Industries now a part of Interplanetary Expeditions, I announced my formal and public retirement. I faded behind the scenes and to all intents and purposes I died, alone in the shadows. This gave me the room to manoeuvre.

"Time passed, the political situation changed. Orion fell, and IPX lost a lot of its resources. With the help of Mr. Morden and his associates however, we survived, and were able to pursue an aggressive marketing strategy, taking over other companies. We became as powerful as I'd always dreamed, and I was there in the shadows, a hand on the tiller so to speak. Mr. Zento then became CEO, with not a little influence from yours truly. He knew a little of the bargain I'd made with Mr. Morden, just enough for him to be suitably helpful.

"During this time you were promoted, and given more and more responsibility. We had you sit in on meetings of the Resistance Government, at the request of Mr. Morden and his associates. We gave you tasks to prove your worth, and you were more than ready.

"Other matters also concerned us at this time. The…. G'Kar incidents. I'm not sure how much you know about his more…. secretive activities, but G'Kar has been building a fairly powerful private army for the past few years. He has allies everywhere, he knows almost everything that is going on in the galaxy. He also has the backing of some of Mr. Morden's associates. I do not know the full details, but I have gathered that some of Morden's friends are split on certain issues. One faction is helping G'Kar. I gather Morden is working for the other, but I am not sure exactly. Regardless, Morden wanted G'Kar helped, so we did so, taking time out of regular missions to supply him with whatever he needed.

"Then…. a month or so before the New Year, Mr. Morden contacted me. The leader they'd been expecting was ready to arise, and it was time to get you ready. I personally had you assigned the task which led to your uncovering the G'Kar File. Morden and I both wanted to see how much you would be able to work out for yourself. We were…. very pleased with your progress.

"Yesterday Morden himself arrived here, after quite a long absence, and I was told it was time. All today's events were orchestrated by Morden and myself, both to test you and to…. erase your past life. You have a new destiny now."

Edgars fell silent, and for a long time Catherine could only stand and stare. "I…. don't believe this," she whispered. "The last few years…. everything has been…. I didn't earn those promotions…. you killed Dan…. Julie…. you…. you…. All for some babble about a leader!"

Edgars smiled. "I realise this must all be difficult to understand, but…."

"Difficult! You…. you…. Whatever this is, I won't do it. I'm…. not jumping through your hoops any more!"

"Ah. I too had doubts at first, but there is something else you should see." Edgars stood up. "You can come in now."

Two figures began coming slowly into view. One was human, the man she had glimpsed briefly in Julie's apartment. That must be the…. Mr….. Morden Edgars had talked about. The other figure….

…. was definitely not human. Catherine had never seen one before, but that did not matter. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the alien next to Mr. Morden was a Vorlon.

And she saw….

Faces, some she knew, some she did not. Images, randomly chosen, floating through the forefront of their minds, joined as one.

A face she had only seen once, but one she could never forget. The face of a woman dying before her eyes, shot down by the man both of them loved.

Your…. pain, she thought. Oh, John…. how could you endure…?

Another face, one she did know very well, mouthing lies and half-truths and rumours disguised as the truth. The face of the woman who had brought her to a place where she could be tortured, who had broken open her cocoon, the woman who…. who had inadvertently brought her and John together.

I cannot hate you. Whatever you have done, I cannot hate you.

Before her there was a column of light, but it was not strong. What should have been a brilliant beam rising up into the sky was a thin pencil, battered on all sides by the darkness.

Oh, John.

And then a voice, a booming, mocking voice, one she knew all too well.

I am lost in darkness for you.

She started. Her voice. Words she had never spoken to him, but her voice.

Knowing what she had to do, she ran towards the light that was the soul of the man she loved.

"The Vorlons…. But…."

"'God moves in a mysterious way'," quoted Edgars, an ironic smile on his face. "But He's a cheap con man compared to the Vorlons."

"I don't understand," Catherine whispered. "You've been…. allied with the Vorlons? For all this time?"

"Yes," Edgars said. "Oh, this of course is Mr. Morden, and our good friend here goes by the name Okesh Naranell. The latter word is a sort of title, I believe."

"Charmed, Miss Sakai," Morden said politely. "It's good to see you again. Our last meeting was…. all too brief."

"Last…." Catherine looked down. "You killed Julie."

"An overzealous guard. You have my apologies."

"Apologies." Catherine was speaking slowly, flatly, with no emotion in her voice. It was hard to realise she was feeling any emotion at all. "Apol…. apologies…. I can't take in any of this. It's all…. rubbish, isn't it? Isn't it? Why should I believe any of this? I'm some sort of…. link to a great leader who hasn't arrived yet? Do you have any idea how…?"

She stopped, not from running out of words, but because the air moved. There was the faint hint of an orchestra just out of earshot. The winds rustled through countless unseen chimes which jangled as they were shaken. There was one instant of perfect beauty and clarity.

The Vorlon, in short, was getting ready to say something.

"Wh…. what?"

"Jeffrey Sinclair," repeated Morden. "You…. are familiar with him, I trust?"

"He's dead. Dead long ago. What does he have to…?" Her eyes widened as everything became clear, with a thought that exploded into her mind. "He's this leader of yours? He's…. not…. dead?"

"He was badly wounded at the Battle of the Line," supplied Morden. "He was taken in as a prisoner by the Minbari and, because my associates here have as much clout with them as with everyone else, they took Mr. Sinclair off their hands. He is now quite safe and in the process of becoming a serious cultural icon."

"Where is he? Oh my God…. I thought…. twelve years…. Twelve years!"

"Kazomi Seven," said Morden. "A…. um, what's the phrase…. 'a wretched hive of scum and villainy' for years, now the base of an interstellar United Alliance of Races. A place of hope and…. well, promise for the future."

"I…. hadn't heard anything about an alliance. I…."

"Of course you hadn't," Edgars said. "The Resistance Government controls the vertical, the horizontal and the diagonal. There are a great many things happening out in the galaxy which are not being made public. The events on Kazomi Seven being only one example."

"Jeffrey's there…. and you want me to…." Something else became clear. "Oh, my God. That's why you killed Dan, isn't it? You wanted me…. unencumbered!" She looked at Edgars. "That's why you asked me if I was seeing anyone. You want me to…. start things up again with Jeff…. provide some sort of link to him."

There was silence.

"You bastards," she whispered. "You cold…. I don't care. I'm having nothing to do with this. I'm not going to be controlled by you, or anyone, or…." A rage so intense, so strong, so powerful as to blot out everything else engulfed her. She turned and began half-striding, half-running into the darkness, towards what she presumed was a door.

"We cannot allow that, I'm afraid," Morden said, almost sadly.

The air began to change, and Catherine turned, instinctively.

The Vorlon's encounter suit began to open….

Their silence had been both comfortable and comforting for a long time, as the two of them watched the city complex at night. But finally, as lights dimmed, and as the darkness grew deeper, Valen began to feel oppressed by the silence.

It was strange, he thought. There had been many times when he had sat alone, not talking, only thinking. Some of his lieutenants had been worried about him, especially Marrain and Parlonn and Rashok. Derannimer had understood, though. She alone had understood him completely.

He spoke at last, a point of insight, a matter of simple observation, and also a hint of an intimate, Vorlon connection, all compelling him to say:

"You are tired."

Lyta started and looked at him. "What did you say?" she whispered.

"You are tired. Of living. You grieve. You go on. You try to endure. But…. you are tired."

Her throat dry, she could only nod. "Yes. Y…. yes."

Softly: "What was his name?"

"Marcus."

"He must have been a good man."

"He was. A very good man."

A pause, a hush in the conversation. He waited for her to speak, knowing she would eventually do so, now that he had shown her he was not afraid to listen.

"He…. died." Another pause. A longer one. "He died saving me." She shook her head. "So…. so pointless. So unnecessary! I'd been walking in…. in shadows all my life and for one moment I knew what it was like to be in the light. Then it went out and I was back in the shadows again."

"Shadows only exist when there is light to form them." He remembered saying that to someone else once, long ago. Someone else in grief and in pain. He wondered if his words could mean as much now.

"If it wasn't for Delenn…. She…. needed me, at one point. She's all right now though. She's…. found her own light. I should be happy for her, why can't I be? All I feel is…. is this nothing. I can't even feel hatred any more. Not for Captain Sheridan — he was the one who…. who put Marcus in a situation where he could get killed. Not even for…. the person who killed him. Nothing."

"Hatred would not erase your grief."

"But at least it would be something! Something to keep me going beyond the voices in my head when I sleep, beyond the dreams, beyond…."

"Voices? The Vorlons."

She nodded. "That's me. Vorlon carrying case."

"I also. But then you know that. You are no more a Vorlon puppet than I, Lyta Alexander. Grief can…. be devastating, but it does not last forever. Remember your Marcus, remember his smile, his voice…. whatever you have. Remember him, and move on. Find a purpose, a place where you belong, and then…. Well, all will not be well, but it will be better."

"Be careful. I might start believing your press releases and think maybe you are Valen."

"I am, torn from the world I know, into one I do not. It has been twelve years since my last human memory. I am more Valen, more prophet than human now. I look before me, and see a row of footsteps in the sand…. my footsteps. And I see a hooded figure waiting with an axe…. and that figure is me. I am walking towards my own destruction, and I know that there is nothing I can do to avoid my fate.

"Soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a decade, I will go back in time to live out my role then. I will look at Marrain as he first greets me, and I will know of his eventual betrayal. I will meet Parlonn and see his face eaten away by despair and anger. I will bring the Tak'cha into my alliance, knowing of the follies they will absorb from my words. I will know every failure, every wrong decision that I made, and I will be powerless to change any of them, because they have already happened.

"The greatest gift of any sentient race is the capacity for hope, Lyta. A thousand years ago someone came to me for aid, although he did not know it. His son had been killed in combat and he was grieving as you are. I told him what I could to ease his mind, and I will do so again when I am returned there. And yet when I first meet him, I will know of his son's death and be unable to change it.

"But today, for the moment…. I have hope, Lyta. You have hope. I do not know your future. I do not know what effect my words will have on you. But I do know…. that you can hope for the future, and that you have the ability to make things right."

He paused, and looked at her. For a moment her eyes flashed a brilliant, luminous gold, and she smiled. Something older, deeper and…. wiser…. was smiling as well.

"Maybe that's why he wanted you here," she said. "Thank you. I…. I think I'd better get to bed now. Good night."

"Good night, Lyta."

She turned and left, not saying another word. He did not look at her as she did so, staring out instead into the night.

How is it, he thought, that my words can bring such…. comfort to others, and yet none to me?

That was the only question he could not answer.

Edgars sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking at his companion with a wry expression. "Well, that could have gone worse."

"Indeed," agreed Morden. "I was listening in. Many thanks, by the way, for not revealing the full details of our…. prior working relationship."

"They hardly mattered, and would only have aroused…. even more suspicion in her than there was already. No, what was a little lie really? Do you think she'll do as she's supposed to?"

"She'll have no choice. Forces stronger than my Master or theirs are compelling her."

Edgars raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"She loves him."

"Ah. Yes. It's been a while since I experienced that particular emotion. I hadn't expected you to be such a romantic these days."

"Death changes a man, wouldn't you say?"

"I wouldn't know. You're the one who's been there, after all. I was rather surprised at the speed of this, though. I had been assured that Miss Sakai wouldn't need to be used for some months yet. The whole affair was quite rushed."

"Yes. We apologise for that. Things…. got in the way."

"Oh? I thought you had everything under control?"

"Not always. Politics, you know. More precisely, our faction and…. the other one. Oh, we all want the same thing of course — order as opposed to chaos. But there are ways and means. Our faction prefers a more…. controlled form of order. You've seen for yourself how good the other races are at maintaining stability. They need a strong hand, discipline I suppose. But the other faction…. the old guard, shall we say? They're a tad…. liberal for these days."

"And it was this other faction which had control of the…. Sinclair situation?"

"Yes. Our lot brought him back to deal with problems among the Minbari. Things had escalated too far there for us to be without influence."

"The bombing?"

"Not just that, but yes. There was also a warrior named Sinoval who's proven very unco-operative and difficult. We needed a saviour to detract from his popularity. We control Valen, he controls the Minbari and there we are — back on track. Unfortunately the other faction had their own ideas. Something to do with free will, I believe."

Edgars smiled. "Always a bad idea."

"Exactly. Give any ten people a choice and nine of them will instantly pick the wrong one. But still, the old guard insisted we give Valen his free will, for this time zone at least. We agreed, and they now owe us big. Don't worry, we'll win the next one.

"Anyway, things weren't exactly turning out as we'd planned. Valen controlled by us and controlling the Minbari was a good thing. Valen running around free and not controlling anything is just too much of a risk. What if the Enemy manage to kill him, or something goes wrong? The past and the future depend on him just too much. We weren't even going to bring him out this early because of the risk, but….

"We need him controlled. Our deal with the…. other faction prevents us from doing so openly, but through Miss Sakai…."

"Ah, yes. So even the Vorlons don't agree on everything, then? That is a revelation."

Morden shrugged. "Just the minutiae. The end goal is the same. It's just…. the way to get there. Besides, our faction is in the ascendancy now. The old-fashioned attitudes won't trouble us much longer."

"Good. It's always a shame, but some rights just don't apply in desperate times. We all have to do what we'd…. rather not do, in a good cause. Don't you agree?"

Morden, more than used to such weak philosophical thinking from his former employer these days, nodded. "Of course."

"You said you would win the next one. What exactly, if I may ask…?"

"They've got the past, with Valen. We will have the future. Sheridan…. and Delenn. The old guard is an anachronism, and the future…. belongs to us."

"Good. Yes…. very good."

John Sheridan opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into the face of the woman he loved. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the candle had burned down quite a lot. He….

He remembered being inside Delenn's soul. He had seen…. everything. Had she seen the same things within him that he had seen within her?

Her eyes were closed, and a soft tear was running down her cheek. "John," she whispered.

"I'm here. I…." He hesitated. He had been going to say, "I'll always be here," but he knew that was not the case.

"Death is not the end," she whispered. "Whatever happens, the circle goes on. It continues into another life, another soul, but it does continue."

"I know. And…. and I'll be waiting for you. I won't start the next journey without you."

She smiled, and opened her beautiful green eyes. They seemed to light up through her sadness. "We shall begin the next journey together, my love."

"Always."

He entwined his fingers around hers, and they remained there as the candles burned down and finally extinguished themselves, leaving the two lovers in darkness.

There had not been much in the way of interstellar travel from Proxima 3 these last few years. Very few races welcomed humans to their worlds, at least not in any substantial numbers, and the other human colonies had been little better than slave holdings.

Since President Clark had pulled off his diplomatic coup with the Narn Government, however, that had changed. The former human colonies were now freed from the Narns and interstellar travel had started up again. Many alien worlds now welcomed humanity and numerous businesses saw potential for cashing in on the rising economy.

Some worlds were still very much off-limits, but by no means all.

"Destination, please?"

Catherine Sakai looked around her with eyes which seemed far older than the face they were set in.

"A long way away," she whispered. "A long way away."

Elsewhere, many light years distant, the suns rose over Kazomi 7, and Valen, the former Jeffrey Sinclair, still standing in the position he had been in all night, looked up, and smiled.

He then turned and began to walk out into the city.

And elsewhere still, Alfred Bester sent a heavily-encoded message right into the heart of the darkness, his mind working faster than ever before. He knew what to do now. He knew how he had to do it. Playing three factions off against each other was not easy, but neither was it impossible, especially when none of the other factions had his…. advantages.

A face appeared in the viewscreen.

"Ambassador Sheridan," Bester said, smiling. "Is it too early? Did I wake you?"

"I do not sleep, Mr. Bester. What can I do for you?"

"I've been considering your offer since the last time we met. I'd like you to know that I've reached a decision…."