From: "G.D.Williams" <LWA97GDW@sheffield.ac.uk>
Subject: ...And What Is Yet To Come, Part 1 of 2
Date: Tue, 30 Sep 1997 15:35:52 +0100

Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror 
Phase Two - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams
Prologue: ...And What Is Yet To Come

Hi people. Here's the beginning of the next phase of the story. For 
those who don't know, this is the continuation of my parallel 
universe saga begun with A Dark, Distorted Mirror several millennia 
ago. I would definitely recommend that the reader has some prior 
knowledge of what has already happened - either through reading the 
earlier stories - up until The Other Half of My Soul - all of which 
should be on archive or will hopefully soon be available from me on 
request. Or by reading What Has Gone Before - a synopsis of earlier 
happenings, also available from me on request. It's a lot of reading, 
but hopefully you'll find it worthwhile.

Feedback is very welcome and should be sent to:
LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk

There are no Spoilers as such here, but I am drawing upon all elements 
of the B5 universe and people may be unintentionally Spoiled.

Legal Disclaimer: B5 and all related characters are owned by JMS and 
/ or Warner Bros. I am making no money out of writing this and am 
doing so purely for pleasure.

Personal Disclaimer: I am a hopeless romantic. I am not however a 
very nice hopeless romantic. Don't say you weren't warned.

And on with the show...

                                     * * * * *

...And What Is Yet To Come, Part 1 of 2 [AT]
by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk

"It was the dawn of the third age of Mankind, at a time when it seemed
Mankind would finally have a future once again. For over ten years we
had been running afraid, our home planet gone, our people scattered,
enslaved, pursued. The Minbari=92s holy war had all but destroyed us,
and for ten years our last, best hope had been one man - Captain John
Sheridan, the StarKiller.

"But now everything had changed. To save themselves, humanity had
destroyed themselves. Offered the assistance of the Shadows, we had
taken it, and begun the strike back. Demoralised by their defeat at
the Battle of the Second Line, the Minbari were in retreat, in
disorder... in chaos. 

"It was the year when darkness reached out its hand across the galaxy,
a time when light, if it even existed, flickered only in small, brief
corners. And yet... and yet there is always hope.

"The year was 2259, the dawning of the new age in the galaxy."

Commander David Corwin, Personal Logs

1.
Proxima 3, base of the Resistance Government of Humanity, March 9th
2259.

The skies were quiet now, containing only the silent, shimmering,
dying ships that humanity had feared for over a decade. The Minbari
had assembled the mightiest fleet they could, and had brought it to
Proxima 3 to crush the last vestiges of humanity. They had found
unexpected opposition and their great fleet had been cut to ribbons.
Their Grey Council had been betrayed, and killed by one of their own
and small matter that the guilty one was dead, for the legacy would
live on. 

The Minbari had fallen in the skies above Proxima 3 and the ruins of
their spaceships showed as much. Only the mysterious and unexplained
arrival of a Vorlon fleet had allowed any Minbari ships to escape at
all.

To the Minbari, these ships were memories of a great loss and symbols
of a great shame. To the humans, they would be the key to the new age
they were forming with the assistance of their allies.

President Clark steepled his fingers and looked at the figure before
him. Clark was many things, and ambitious was one of them. Even before
the Minbari had arrived at Proxima, he had been preparing for what
would happen after their defeat, and then for what would happen after
that, and after that... Clark had his own plans for the human race and
they were far from the slaves and frightened outcasts they had been
for the past eleven years. He was very aware that he might not live to
see the completion of his vision for the human race, but he would
begin it at least. That was something.

And of late he had been growing more and more convinced that he would
survive. The voice that spoke to him at times, the visions he saw in
his dreams, the resurrection of a determination he had thought lost
with the fall of Earth.

President Clark had a Keeper. He may not have realised it, but he was
a slave, and a slave who did not see his chains was no less a slave.

"Well?", he said.

"I think I've managed to understand their shielding system," said the
man before him. "It's not as complex as we'd thought. I'll need to
perform a few more tests, but once I've managed to re-modulate our
tracking systems, our ships should be able to target theirs easily.
This isn't really my field, but..."

"We all learn to adapt, Doctor," Clark said tersely.

Doctor Vance Hendricks chuckled. "I suppose so."

Clark was slightly irritated at the man's casual attitude to him, but
he did not let it show. Vance Hendricks was a genius, after all -
albeit in the field of exo- and xeno- biology. Analysing alien
technology was not new to him - although the technology he analysed
was usually several hundred years old.

"The Narns have been pressuring me again," Clark said. Strictly
speaking, the Narns were humanity's masters now - granting mankind
sanctuary in their space in exchange for heavy taxes and political
power. The Narns were always anxious to gain new technology and
the knowledge of a wrecked Minbari fleet floating free in space had
aroused their acquisitive instincts. They wanted the technology, they
wanted the ships.

Clark smiled slowly. The Narns would get their technology, but they
would have to pay for it. Humanity would not go on bended knee to
alien races any more.

"But... the Narns will have to wait," he finished. "Find out as much
as you can, Doctor. You have time, but not an infinite supply of it.
If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to contact me."

Clark had his vision, of a humanity spreading out amongst the stars,
not as slaves, but as masters, bringing the alien races to their
knees... and the Minbari... bringing the Minbari to their deaths.

2.
Yedor, Capital City of Minbar, Homeworld of the Minbari Federation

Inesval was running, his breath hard in his mouth. He had never
thought he would see this day. He had never dreamed that he would see
this day.

He stumbled, and scrambled to his feet, his normal, graceful Minbari
footsteps abandoning him in his fear. 

He had lived in Yedor many years, working peacefully, content with his
place, content with his life, a life that had been taken from him. He
still remembered when the day when word had reached Yedor. The Grey
Council was dead, only Satai Kalain and Holy One Sinoval surviving.
The others were all dead, slain by one of their own, slain by Satai
Hedronn. Inesval did not believe that could be true, but there was
said to be evidence, a recording made by the Centauri Ambassador,
Refa, before he had left for his homeworld.

Inesval still did not believe that, evidence or no, but what he
believed did not matter. What the warriors believed did. Satai Kalain
was filled with a holy blood rage, so alike to that which had
destroyed the Earthers ten cycles before. Only Holy One Sinoval could
rein Kalain in, and Sinoval was gone, simply disappeared, a phantom in
crystal.

Minbari were killing Minbari, all across the Federation. The worker
caste were being hunted down in retribution for Hedronn's murder of
the Grey Council. All across the Federation, workers were appealing to
the religious caste, but their pleas were being ignored. All across
the Federation, workers were being killed.

A shadow fell across Inesval and his hopeless flight ended. He
accepted his fate at last, whispering a silent prayer to Valen.

"In Sinoval's Name, worker," blasphemed the warrior before him. The
Holy One's name was never to be spoken, and certainly not in the same
way as Valen's. "In Sinoval's Name, face justice."

Inesval pushed back his fear. "Minbari do not kill Minbari," he said.
"Not since before Valen's time. Valen said..."

"Valen is dead," snapped the warrior. "And his ways have finally died
with him. In Sinoval's Name, worker, face his justice."

Inesval did not see the warrior's pike move. His eyes were closed, but
had they been open, he doubted he would have. The motion was simply
too fast. 

The warrior's pike crushed his throat.

Minbar was burning...

3.
The Heart of the Great Machine, Epsilon 3, Epsilon Iridani Sector

Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar had been many things in his eventful life - slave,
outlaw, leader, warrior, prophet. He had seen a great deal, done a
great deal, had forged the beginnings of an alliance that he hoped
would long outlast him. The Circle of Light, they were called - a
light to oppose the Darkness that was sweeping the galaxy. He did not
have the nerve to call his soldiers Rangers, although he did hear that
that was how some of them referred to themselves. Neroon might have
taken objection to that - of all of G'Kar's Circle of Light, Neroon
alone had served with the real Rangers - the Minbari were inherited a
legacy centuries old, a legacy G'Kar was trying vainly to fill.

Neroon might have objected, but the Minbari was now dead, given his
life on Zagros 7. Ta'lon - Neroon's partner and friend - had told
G'Kar everything in person - here, at the heart of the Circle of
Light, but there had been no need. G'Kar had known.

He was tired.

Neroon had been more than a servant, or a soldier. He had been a
friend. One of the few in G'Kar's life, and certainly one of a small
number who were not Narns.

The war was escalating. Shadow involvement at the Battle of the Second
Line had been far greater than G'Kar had expected. He had not been
anticipating an action like that for months - even years to come. This
was not how G'Quan had said they worked. They hid, waited behind the
scenes, starting smaller words, bringing darkness and chaos.

This whole business with the humans and the Minbari bore their mark
all over it. There had been no need of Shadow involvement to start the
war, but its savage escalation at the Battle of the Second Line, and
the inevitable human counterattack... they were behind this.

G'Kar's plans would have to be altered. He had not been accustomed to
planning over a long period of time. During his days as an outlaw on
an occupied Narn, and afterwards in the kHa'Ri, there had been time
for short-term solutions only. He had made many enemies that way.

But still... he was learning to adapt. Long-term plans would be
needed. Very long-term. Perhaps long enough that he would not live to
see it, but he could accept that. He was beginning something here,
something that would last for a thousand years...

He delved into the infinite memories of the Great Machine and sought
some records. From a human secret mission. Ships had flown above this
planet and the Great Machine had recorded their presence. The Machine
recorded everything.

G'Kar began to study the files of the Babylon Project: Mission 4.

4.
MedLab, Sanctuary, Secret Psi-Corps Base, the Border of Narn Space

"Well?"

Alfred Bester resisted the urge to just pick the information he needed
out of Lillian Hobbs' mind. Not for any moral or ethical reasons, mind
you, just because it would be a lot of effort, and he didn't really
feel like it. Besides, he wasn't a doctor and doubted he'd understand
much of the situation. After all, cases like this were pretty rare.

"Her genetic structure is degrading," Doctor Hobbs replied. "I have no
idea what was used to mix human DNA in with hers in the first place,
and I doubt I'd understand it if I did. Her current collapse was
caused by momentary respiratory failure, which I've managed to
stabilise. She should be able to come off the respirator in a few
days. Unfortunately there's no way I can fix her condition. Odds are
it'll just keep on getting worse as her cellular structure falls
apart. Her biology is an odd mix of human and Minbari and it's not
cohabiting very well."

"I see." Bester didn't need to read her mind to know that Doctor Hobbs
was telling him the truth. He had been talking about this matter a lot
with G'Kar. Both of them recognised the importance of their patient,
even with her recent... demotion.

Bester was allied with G'Kar out of necessity, not belief. Oh, he
didn't want he Shadows ruling the galaxy any more than the Narn did,
but ultimately, their goals would run in opposite directions. Still,
that was for the future...

For now, it was a simple matter of supply and demand. Bester could
provide the telepathic DNA that G'Kar needed to create his Narn
telepaths to use against the Shadows, as well as the highly skilled
manpower of his small fleet - two heavy class destroyers, the
Ozymandias and the Parmenion, and a handful of smaller ships. Bester
had plenty of telepaths in his service, and if G'Kar was right, then
telepathic powers were like gold dust in this war. Not that Bester had
any intention of letting his telepaths be used as cannon fodder, mind
you.

Oh yes, and he also had two very skilled captains in his service.
Captain Ari Ben Zayn, veteran of countless battles and a former member
of the EarthForce Special Intelligence Division and Captain John
Sheridan, the StarKiller, probably the only human the Minbari actually
feared.

And speaking of Captain Sheridan.

"Strange, I thought he'd be here."

"I'm sorry?"

Bester waved his useful right hand in negation. He then turned and
left. He'd have to talk to G'Kar about this. Hopefully the Narn would
have uncovered something. He left Delenn behind him, trapped
motionless in the medical equipment that was preserving her life, a
statue in crystal and glass...

5. 
Royal Court, Centauri Prime, Homeworld of the Centauri Republic

"You see, Vir. There is no place like home." Lord - until recently,
Ambassador - Refa took a good look around the throneroom of the Royal
Court. It was empty, the entire court supposedly still in mourning for
that dead idiot Marrit. The late Emperor - and it felt so good
thinking that - had only done one sensible thing in his life, and that
was rescind Refa's exile from Minbar. But then, his appointment as
Ambassador there was largely worthless now that there was no Grey
Council to be an Ambassador to.

Behind him, his attache and dogsbody, Vir Cotto followed, eyes
downcast. Vir had been depressed ever since they had left Minbar. Refa
supposed that he had learned about that leaked evidence of the Grey
Council being murdered by one of their one. Well, it had been payment
for services rendered. That strange alien woman - the Dilgar... She
had performed a certain favour for Refa in exchange for payment. Refa
had not seen her since. Rumour had it she was dead.

Refa looked at the throne, empty and shrouded in black. He smiled
slyly, unable to resist it.

He sat down.

"Very comfortable, Vir. You should try it." He rested his arms on the
side and kicked his legs out. A precursor of things to come, perhaps?
And why not? he thought. These were troubled times for the Centauri.
Surely, an able, talented, ambitious man could rise to the top? It had
been done before.

It was all a matter of how many you were willing to kill.

6.
The Ready Room of the EAS Parmenion, Berthed Outside Sanctuary

"We've got a good crew here, Captain. They're fast, loyal, they know
what they're doing..." Commander David Corwin looked up at the man he
had dedicated his life to serving. Captain John Sheridan - the
StarKiller - had that distant look in his eyes again. It was there
less than usual lately - the aftermath of the Battle of the Second
Line had been filled with a flurry of repairs, replacements, drills...
The crew and the Captain of the Parmenion were still getting used to
each other.

"Loyal," Sheridan said. "That's the point. Loyal to who? How many of
the old Babylon crew are here?"

Sheridan and Corwin had escaped Proxima 3 a few minutes ahead of
charges of treason on board their previous ship - the Babylon. They
had only managed a bare skeleton crew, and Bester had insisted on
returning the Babylon, and some of its crew, back to Proxima.
Ostensibly because he didn't want humanity's last major colony to be
defenceless. Actually, because... well, who knew why Bester did
anything?

"Not that many. Franklin went back on the Babylon... We've got
Connally and a few of our old StarFury pilots. Zack was left behind on
Proxima. Only a handful. Unless you count Miss Alexander, of course.
And then there's Delenn..."

Sheridan ignored the mention of Delenn. "How much do you trust
Bester?"

Corwin looked around. Conspiratorial conversations were not exactly
knew to him, and the first thing he knew was to exercise caution.
Captain Sheridan was known for many things, but caution was not one of
them.

"He won't have this room bugged," Sheridan said, evidently noticing
Corwin's train of thought. "He's a telepath, for God's sake. Besides,
I checked. So, how much do you trust him?"

"Honestly... not much, but at least he's against the Shadows as well.
And there is G'Kar."

"Yes. G'Kar I trust... sort of. Bester... Nope. Not at all. And as for
that old saying... The enemy of my enemy is my friend... I don't
believe it. Bester has his own agenda. So does G'Kar for that matter.
As for what it is.... we'll have to see. God! I hate conspiracies.
What do you think about Miss Alexander?"

"I don't know.  She's one of the few people here who isn't a part of
Bester's power structure. We still don't know what happened to her on
Proxima and she doesn't want to talk about it. On the other hand, we
need a telepath here if we're going to run into any more of those
Shadows and I'd rather her than any of Bester's people."

Sheridan smiled. "Right."

"There is the one problem however. She's never been fond of you, 
Captain. And after Marcus' death..."

Sheridan brushed that thought aside. "She doesn't have to like me. 
What matters is that she doesn't like Bester either. As long as she 
does her job here - and she will - then her likes don't matter."

Corwin looked at his Captain again and swallowed harshly. "Captain...
what about Delenn?" It had been eight days since she had collapsed and
been taken to MedLab, and in all that time, Sheridan had not even
mentioned her once. Corwin didn't like Delenn - for all her change in
appearance she was still a Minbari - but the Captain did. Corwin had
been watching their growing bond with a mixture of distaste and
mistrust, but he had to admit that when he had need of Delenn - when
the Captain was near suicidal after Anna's death - Delenn had come
through.

"I don't want to talk about her," Sheridan said.

"But..."

"That is final."

Corwin looked at Sheridan again. The Captain's face was stern and
gritty, but Corwin had not risen this far without being able to read
people. That was not the final statement regarding Delenn. Not by a
long shot.



All Spoilers, notices, Disclaimers etc. to be found at the beginning 
of Part 1

...And What Is Yet To Come, Part 2 of 2 [AT]
by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk

7.
Personal Quarters of Londo Mollari, Sanctuary

Londo Mollari, the late Minister of Centauri Prime was not drunk. This
was something of a new situation for him, but Sanctuary only had that
revolting Narn liquor and he would honestly have rather drunk his own
blood, so he was managing on water.

Ever since his lunatic action at the Battle of the Second Line,
throwing his nephew Carn's warship - the Valerius - into battle
against the Shadows, Londo had found himself unofficially co-opted
into the little conspiracy here at Sanctuary. Of course, he had been a
member of G'Kar's Circle of Light for a long time, but only as an
agent, an informer - he would provide the odd bit of information here
and then, assist a fellow agent where he could, whisper a few words in
the right ear... Now he was stuck slap bang in the middle of things,
and he did not like it.

He was supposed to be dead, of course. Assassination attempts - a
regular and natural occurance in the Centauri Royal Court - were
getting a little too frequent and close for his comfort and so, on the
advice of his dearly beloved wife, Timov, he had pretended to be dead
and had retreated from Centauri Prime. And now he was stuck here. And
he was bored.

Carn was busily integrating the Valerius into the military here at
Sanctuary, running drills, getting rid of any crewmembers he didn't
trust, liasing with Captains Sheridan and Ben Zayn... all the usual
military stuff that Londo had rejected as being too much like hard
work. Londo meanwhile was left with nothing to do. He was cut out of
the loop regarding matters at home, as G'Kar now did not have a
permanent agent on Centauri Prime. That was being rectified, and once
Vir had fully set up business there, then Londo would actually have
something to do, but for the moment, he was bored, and he didn't even
have the pleasure of getting drunk to fall back on.

The door opened, and Londo turned. Ah yes, there was something he
could do.

"Hello, Minister," said the mysterious human called Morden. "You're
looking well."

8.
Former Circle of Light Base, Zagros VII, Drazi Colony World

He looked at the rubble before him, prodding at it absently with one
toe. He could sense the death everywhere. It flooded the area. It was
not a matter of smell, or taste, or sight, just a... feeling. He
sighed. He would be turning into a Shagh Toth before long.

He had been hearing a lot about this Circle of Light recently. He did
not believe in using agents as such. Spying was beneath such as him.
Still... look where his pride had gotten him. He had learnt a valuable
lesson recently. You cannot fight the Darkness while remaining in the
Light.

But as his soul was already damned, then what did it matter?

He had believed himself pure, he had believed himself just, holy,
ready... the figure who would lead his race to their prophecied glory.

He had been wrong, as had been abundantly proved to himself. He had
lead his race only to disaster, and only to death.

He still remembered the vision he had experienced as a child. He had
thought it had come from a pure, holy source. He must have been wrong.
His destiny had surely not lead to the glory of his race.

But this Circle of Light... they were intriguing. He had not imagined
before that any other race could fight against the Enemy - save for
the Vorlons, of course. The other younger races were weak, impure,
corrupt, dishonourable. The Second Line had proved him wrong. 

Centauri, Narns, even humans... all had fought the Enemy at the Second
Line. As they would have to fight the Enemy again. His people surely
could not any longer. He had damned them.

And what would she say to all of this? She who had always known the
way, been as convinced in her role as he had been. She, whom he had
sacrificed on the altar of his ambition.

He did not care.

Sinoval, formerly Holy One of the Grey Council, formerly Entil'zha of
the Anla'Shok, formerly Satai, formerly Shai Alyt, formerly warrior,
turned and walked away, now none of those things. Now, just a humble
pilgrim before Valen's eyes.

9.
MedLab, Main Dome, Proxima 3

What would her God say to her if He could see her now, her life
measured in numbers and amounts, and maintained by machines? Does He
even care, or does she? Did she stop believing when the life was torn
away from her home, or perhaps when she had landed on that dread, dead
planet and had forever lost her soul? Or maybe she had stopped
believing earlier, when her mother had taken her own life?

Only one person could answer those questions, and Ambassador Susan
Ivanova was in no condition to do so.  Her injuries were severe and
her life was at the mercy of that self-same God who had cast her here.

Silent, staring eyes were fixated on her. It was hard to see the women
beneath the mass of machines and tubes, harder still to see the woman
behind the facade she had always erected around herself. General
Laurel Takashima thought she could.

Takashima did not know why she was here, only that she was drawn here.
She put it down to instinct, a feeling that had rarely betrayed her
before, although it had at the Battle of the second Line. Takashima
still did not know why she had led the Babylon against the Shadows
that were, after all, humanity's allies. She did not know why
President Clark and Mister Welles had not mentioned it to her, had not
even seemed to be aware of it. 

There were many things that Laurel Takashima did not know, but she was
at last discovering one thing - that there were things she did not
know. And she was determined to find them out.

And she had a feeling that the first clue lay with the comatose woman
whose life lay in the balance before her.

10.
Bester's Office, Sanctuary, March 11th 2259

Alfred Bester was a telepath, and a powerful one at that. He did not
surprise easily, and even the sight of a Narn hologram appearing out
of nowhere in his office and walking through his table caused him only
a moment's start.

"Greetings, G'Kar," he said. "What news?"

"Oh, bits and pieces. Nothing major, as yet. I've been studying
Delenn's condition."

Bester looked up. "And?"

"The technology that caused her change is present on Epsilon 3. How, I
don't know, but it's there. I suppose it would be possible to use it
to replicate another chrysalis, and complete the procedure."

Bester shook his head. "Not possible. I've had my doctors looking over
her. We can stabilise her condition but she's too unstable to risk a
repeat of her change. My doctors assure me that she wouldn't survive a
second transformation. At least not that way."

"Ah." The Narn looked concerned. Bester found himself wishing it
wasn't just a holgram. He would dearly love to meet the real G'Kar one
day. What information would be found in that alien's mind, he
wondered.

"So if she dies, then she dies," Bester said. "One life more or less
can't matter that much, and she doesn't have any political power with
her people any more."

"No," G'Kar said. "She is important. She has information that would
suit us very well, and she could provide a rallying cry when it comes
to confronting the Minbari."

"The information I can get easily enough..."

"No!" G'Kar snapped. "How we do this is just as important as the fact
that we are doing it. Do not violate her mind, Mister Bester. That
would not be... suitable."

"G'Kar, may I remind you that she is in my custody here, and on
Sanctuary I may do whatever I like?"

"And may I remind you that you exist here only on the sufferance of
the kHa'Ri? One word from me to certain receptive ears there could
lead to that sufferance ending."

"You need me too much for that."

"The question, Mister Bester, is do I need you more than you need me?"

Bester smiled. "My congratulations, G'Kar. You are of course right."

The Narn made a motion very similar to a sigh. "Mister Bester, I have
survived an occupation, a war, innumerable assassination attempts and
three years on the kHa'Ri. I am neither a novice nor a child. Do not
treat me like one."

Bester smiled. "Of course, my friend. I offer my sincere apologies. No
mind scan of Delenn, then. That leaves..."

"We always knew we would have to try and enlist their aid sooner or
later. Doing so now may reveal our plans, and our existance, but
leaving it any later could result in our missing them altogether. Not
to mention Delenn's death. How long before she is able to travel?"

Bester raised an eyebrow. "You want her to go in search of them?"

"She is one of the few in this galaxy they will talk to, Mister
Bester. Trust me on this."

"Oh, a week perhaps. Assuming nothing else goes wrong. Even if it
doesn't, then she will probably only have a month or so at best."

"Then we had best move swiftly. A week, then. I will contact Mollari.
He, more than anyone has experience with them. We will need another to
keep them safe, but no more. A smaller party will travel easier, and
Minbari do believe in doing things in threes.

"All we can do after that is hope that the technomages are willing to
lend us their assistance, because I fear that many lives may end if
they do not."

11.
Docking Bay Three, Main Dome, Proxima 3, March 13th 2259

"You look a little uneasy, Mister Welles." President Clark regarded
his Head of Security and Chief of Information. Welles did look a
little uneasy, and that was rare. Welles had always possessed an iron
bearing and an unflappable composure. Perhaps the recent evidence of
his frailities - Miss Alexander's escape, the assault on Ambassador
Ivanova, Captain Sheridan's escape - had unnerved him.

"Not at all, Mister President," came the carefully worded reply. That
was Welles to a fault. Always careful. With everything.

"You do accept the need for a new Ambassador from the Shadows, don't
you? After all, Miss Ivanova will be unable to perform her duties for
several months, at least."

"Of course, Mister President. I am just... concerned about Security
measures surrounding the new Ambassador's arrival."

"Worried that Captain Sheridan may appear? He does have a habit of
walking through your defences, doesn't he? It is too late to worry
about these things. You see, the ship is docking."

The new Ambassador's ship was indeed docking, and Clark's attention
was fixed on the new Ambassador. Miss Ivanova's injuries were tragic,
but perhaps they were a result of her own carelessness. In particular,
her infatuation with that Marcus Cole. The late Marcus Cole. Clark had
a feeling that the new Ambassador would be much more efficient.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador," he said extending his
hand. Clark supposed he should be surprised by the figure in front of
him, but somehow he wasn't.

"Likewise, Mister President," said Ambassador David Sheridan.

12.
Z'Ha'Dum, Shadow Homeworld, The Rim of Known Space

He was a Minbari warrior. He was a Ranger. He was a member of the
Circle of Light. He would not scream.

He was an Alyt. He was beloved of Delenn. He was second to G'Kar. He
was friend to Ta'lon. He would not scream.

He was Neroon of the Wind Swords clan. He would not scream.

But as the Zener began to work on him, changing him, twisting him body
and soul, perverting his spirit to perform the will of their masters,
Neroon of the StarRiders clan, beloved of Delenn, found that he was
screaming after all.

And beneath the planet, at the heart of it, a lonely figure paused and
stopped in his wanderings, as if hearing the screams through two miles
of rock. Then he resumed his journey, and his wait. Waiting for the
one who would come to him here.

Always waiting...

Next: The Cost of Alliances (4 parts)
Delenn, Londo and Lennier go off in search of the mysterious
technomages, hoping that their power will both save Delenn's life and
help defeat the Shadows, but their aid comes at a price. Sheridan
meanwhile is thrust into a bettle to save an innocent people, both
from the marauding Streibs, and from one of their own number.
































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