From RHAZLWD@KUHUB.CC.UKANS.EDUWed May 24 17:07:22 1995 Date: Tue, 23 May 1995 11:25:31 -0500 (CDT) From: Richard Hazlewood To: Alexei Kosut Subject: Revised Story: The Only One Dear Alexei, Here is the revised version of my story. I have made it all one file rather than the four files I originally posted. If you need to break it up, feel free to do so (split the acts up). Thanks. ======================================================================== DISCLAIMER: This story is copyrighted (1995) by Richard Hazlewood. All rights reserved. Electronic transfer and storage is permitted. Just don't make any money off of it (yeah right). NOTICE: This story takes place early in the THIRD season of Babylon 5. (I know, quite a risk with half of the second season still to be aired...) ================================================================= The Only One By Richard Hazlewood TEASER: Commander Susan Ivanova bounced off the padded wall and flew across the playing field after the glowing blue sphere. Security Lieutenant Michael Garibaldi tried to intercept her, but was not able to catch her quick-moving form. Twisting in mid-air, Susan intercepted the ball and slapped it towards the far wall where the goal was outlined in red. The reaction from her throw propelled her into Michael and they ended up in a tangled mass against the far wall. The ball flew unerringly towards the goal and the ring began flashing signalling a score. "Six to one Michael, do you give up yet?" Susan could not hide the humor in her voice as she extricated herself from her friend. "How about one more try?" Michael said between deep breaths. "You really are a glutton aren't you? OK, but suckers walk." Michael sighed, pushed himself off of the wall and headed for the distant goal. Just as he reached into the net for the ball, his commlink beeped. Glancing over to Susan, he noticed that she too had received the message. "Talk to me." He said quickly into the unit attached to the back of his hand. "Chief, Commander, the liner Heinlein has just come through the Jump Gate. The first shuttle will be in docking bay seven in half an hour." Almost together they replied, "Acknowledged." Glancing quickly at Susan at the far end of the ellipsoidal playing field, Michael noticed that she was already headed for the exit. As she passed through the door she said, "Come on slowpoke. If you don't hurry you won't have time for a shower before the shuttle gets here. And wouldn't that be a wonderful welcome home?" Laughing to himself, Michael pushed off from the wall, the ball forgotten in his haste to catch up. Twenty-five minutes later, Ivanova and Garibaldi arrived at bay seven. The shuttle from the Heinlein was just docking. Impatiently, they waited for the tedious procedure to be completed. Finally, the hatch opened and passengers, mostly Minbari, began walking down the ramp, up to the security station. They waited. Eventually, a slender man with greying-brown hair emerged and made his way slowly up to security. Garibaldi stepped forward and embraced the older man. "Jeff! God it's good to see you!" Somewhat awkwardly, the man returned the embrace. As he tried to hand the security guard his ID card, Garibaldi brushed it away. "Don't bother *Ambassador Sinclair* everyone here knows who you are." Looking at the guard helplessly, Jeff Sinclair let his friend lead him away from security and towards Ivanova. "Lieuten... Uhm, Commander. It's very good..." "Oh shut up and give me a HUG!" Susan exclaimed, grabbing her old friend. "Well, I don't....." Jeff tried again. "You do now!" came the quick reply from Susan, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Suddenly serious, Sinclair said, "Michael, Susan, I'm not sure why I came, but I HAD to be here." "Later. In my quarters. Less chance of being...overheard." Garibaldi answered with the same seriousness, glancing at the crowd. "Let's get you settled first. Captain Sheridan is dying to meet you." Relenting, Sinclair allowed himself to be guided out of the docking area and into the once familiar corridors of Babylon 5. Introduction (Voice of Ambassador G'Kar) The Babylon project was a dream given form. 250,000 beings in a station five miles long located in Neutral Space. It was the Third Age of Mankind. The Great War was spreading across the galaxy. This is the story of the last of the Babylon stations. A shining beacon in space, all alone in the night. Conceived in peace, it had become our only refuge. It was our last, best hope not only for peace, but for victory. It is the Earth year 2260. The name of the place is Babylon 5. ACT I In the command and control center of Babylon 5, Captain John Sheridan paced around the bridge. He faced the return of Ambassador Sinclair with some very mixed feelings. Sheridan was no stranger to taking over for another commanding officer, he had done it, and had it done to him, numerous times, it was having that CO return that was the hard part. Sheridan had a lot of respect for Sinclair. The fine crew on B5 were perhaps the best example of what kind of leader Sinclair was. But it was what Sinclair had done AFTER Babylon 5 that told the real story. Sinclair had done something that perhaps no other person could have been able to do. He had succeeded in uniting Minbari and Humans, at least some of them. United them to fight against the spreading darkness of the Centauri and their 'allies'. Using the Minbari belief that they and humans shared the same souls, he had been able to convince a great number of Minbari and Humans to follow his banner. In effect, he had his own army fighting in a war that neither the Minbari Grey Council nor the Earth Alliance President seemed to want to become involved in. Even after the events on the Narn Homeworld, the other major governments did nothing. Doing nothing was something that a military man like Sheridan could not understand. Thanks to the secret shipments to the Narn that he and Delenn had started almost a year ago, tens of thousands of Narn civilians had been saved, Babylon 5's overflowing MedLabs was a case in point. The War had claimed billions, of course, but Sheridan had to believe that what he was doing was helping. He had to believe that. Returning his attention to the control board, he noticed that the Heinlein had begun off-loading passengers. 'Better get down there' he thought to himself. Turning to the dark-skinned woman beside him, he said, "Major Atombe, I am going to see Ambassador Sinclair. You have the watch." With that, Sheridan quickly exited C-and-C and headed for Sinclair's assigned quarters. Moving slowly through the corridors of Blue Sector, Garibaldi, Ivanova and Sinclair conversed quietly, catching up on each others lives. They had not seen Sinclair for over a year. Official reports from Minbar had left little room for personal messages. The private messages that Garibaldi had been receiving from time to time were not the type of message that left room for private conversations. They had a lot to discuss. As they were passing through the Zocalo, Sinclair stopped suddenly and began looking around. "What is it Jeff?" Garibaldi asked, his hand on his PPG, glancing at the crowd. Garibaldi noticed several Rangers in the crowd, following at a discrete distance. Sinclair ignored his friend. Instead, his shifting gaze settled on a woman seated at one of the many tables in the area. The woman was also staring at Sinclair. Slowly, the woman nodded her head, almost as if in acknowledgement. With a slight smile, she got up and quickly left the area. Shaking himself slightly, Sinclair looked over at Garibaldi, "Whaa?... Oh, sorry Michael. I thought I recognized someone for a minute. I must have been mistaken." To Ivanova, "What were you saying about the Lumati?" Unconvinced by Sinclair's brush-off, Garibaldi looked once more down the corridor where the mysterious woman had recently disappeared. Garibaldi reluctantly returned his attention to Sinclair as Ivanova finished relating the events around the signing of the treaty with the Lumati. As they continued along the Zocalo, the lights dimmed and flickered. Sinclair took on a vacant, almost listening expression. After several minutes, the flickering stopped. Almost immediately Garibaldi's commlink beeped. With a quiet "excuse me" he stepped away and spoke softly into his link. After a quick conversation, he returned to his friends and said, "Sorry Jeff, duty calls." Turning to Ivanova, "Looks like our 'friend' has struck again. Downbelow." "Damn!" Came the heartfelt reply. "You get down there. Let me know if there is anything more." Garibaldi quickly left the Zocalo, speaking into his commlink as he went. Ivanova turned to Sinclair with a forced smile, "Just another day at the office." Responding to Sinclair's questioning look, she replied, "For the last couple of weeks, we have had what appears to be a serial killer on our hands. Four people have turned up dead. In each case there were signs of a struggle and the victim's body had been mutilated. There have also been some pretty serious power surges at about the same times, in about the same areas as the killings, but we haven't figured out the connection yet." Sinclair seemed to be only half listening, but before Ivanova could ask about it they had arrived at his assigned quarters. Waiting at the door was Captain Sheridan, and all further discussion of the killer had to be delayed for the necessary introductions. Minbari Ambassador Delenn straightened her red dress and checked her hair one last time in the Earth-made mirror in her quarters. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and moved quickly out of the Green sector and into the neighboring Blue sector. Doctor Stephen Franklin examined the latest victim of the serial killer in MedLab-1 . Beside him, Garibaldi looked on. Moving his scanner over the corpse, Franklin made several notes in his log and then turned to the silent security chief. "Just like the others. Same M.O. and there are absolutely no signs of any other injuries. No scars, no marks of any kind on the body. "I just don't get it! No one goes through there entire life without a single scar! No one! Now we have five people like that. Nothing else in common, just no other marks and dead. I just don't get it!" Garibaldi tried to calm his friend, but he too had no answers. The killer seemed to strike randomly. None of the victims had anything in common. One had been on board since the station was commissioned, two had been on board the station for several months, one had arrived last week, the last victim had just come in yesterday. Two were women. One was Chinese, one African, one Indian and two European. Nothing in common. There just didn't seem to be a pattern. But Garibaldi knew that that was NOT the case. There was always a pattern, he just hadn't figured it out yet, but he would. Delenn moved down the corridor of Blue sector and pressed the wall unit outside of Sinclair's quarters. The door opened and she stepped in quickly. When Delenn entered the room, Sinclair quickly rose from the couch where he had been stretched out and said, "Old friend! So good to see you again." Stopping in front of her, Sinclair gently reached out and touched Delenn's chest with the palm of his right hand, inclining his head slightly, "Alth'du Mirakli Delenn" he said in Minbari. Smiling at this traditional Minbari greeting of close friends, Delenn in turn touched Sinclair's chest and nodded her head. "You have learned many of our customs while staying on our planet Shi'Satai." "Delenn, please, call me Jeff. If anyone here has earned that right, you have." After a short pause, "What did you call me? 'Shi'Satai'? I don't believe I have ever heard that word before, what does it mean?" Delenn said softly, "Jeff, I will explain." After they had taken seats across from each other on the couch, Delenn continued, "Jeff, it is time that you learned the REST of the story about why we Minbari surrendered at the Battle of the Line..." Down in the docking area, a shuttle was off-loading passengers. A tall, slim man with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail emerged from the shuttle and moved quickly through security. After passing the security check, the man moved immediately to the Zocalo. Once there, he ordered a drink, sat down at a table and waited. Garibaldi was going over his notes on the serial killer in his office when he received a call from C-and-C. "Chief, there has been another power surge. In the Zocalo this time, one of the rental rooms." Garibaldi was out of his chair and headed down the corridor before the message could even be completed. Arriving at the designated room, Garibaldi met several other security people getting ready to enter the room. Taking immediate charge, he said, "OK, Lou you take the right. Zach, you have the left. I have the middle. Marshall, you get the door. One. Two. Three. GO!" The three guards burst through the door and quickly spread through the room. There precautions were unnecessary however, since the room was empty. The small room had been almost completely destroyed. All of the glass had been shattered. All of the electronic equipment and outlets had exploded. The holo-vid had warped and the melted remains had oozed down the wall. All of the furniture was overturned and there were definite signs of a struggle visible through the debris. There were slash marks in the couch and gouges in the walls and doorways. On the floor near the door to the restroom, a body. Going over to the body, Garibaldi immediately recognized the woman that Sinclair had been looking at earlier in the Zocalo bar. Her body had been mutilated just like the others, her severed head was against the nearby wall. This time however, there was some physical evidence available. Beside the mystery woman's body, an ancient sword lay in two pieces. ACT II On the Zocalo, the Tall Man watched the security people head towards the woman's room. What the security guards had failed to notice however, was the man, dressed in black, who had emerged from the woman's room just moments before the first guards arrived. As the man in black made his way slowly and unobtrusively through the Zocalo, he stopped suddenly and began looking around, a slight smile on his handsome face. His eyes eventually fell on the Tall Man sitting at the bar. Straightening himself, the dark man sauntered over to the tall man and, with a smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes, sat down at the table. They stared at each other for several minutes, neither moving. Finally, the dark man spoke first, "MacLeod. So, you have finally come. I have been expecting you." "I see you have been keeping busy Morden." Came the quiet reply. "Jolinda Melleard was not worthy of the Prize. She was weak." "And you are not." "No, I am not." The smile never leaving Morden's face, "When I claim the prize, my allies and I will be able to rule the entire galaxy. It is our destiny." "And you are so sure that the prize is yours for the taking are you?" "There are only four of us left. The other two will not be an obstacle. You are tired and soft. It would be better for you to just surrendered now and made things easy on yourself." "I think that I still have a little life left in me. And don't take the others lightly." The smile gone now, Morden replied, "I mean to take it. Don't get in my way old man." Without another word, Morden stood and left the Zocalo. MacLeod finished his drink, got up and headed out through one of the many corridors. "The whole truth?" Sinclair asked, "Or another half truth that the Grey Council is famous for?" "I am no longer a member of the Council, you know that. You must understand all that you are. Time grows short. "When you were still commander of this station, I asked you to come to my quarters before I became what I am now. Do you remember?" After a nod from Sinclair, Delenn continued, "You did not arrive in time. I was not able to delay the transformation any longer. Had you come, I would have explained everything then. The Grey Council chose to tell you only part of your story at the Line. I would have told you everything. "Once you were on Minbar, I could not tell you the truth without others finding out what I had done. You would have given yourself away. You realize that you are constantly monitored while on our world? Any unexplained change in your behavior would have been detected. That was something that I could not risk at the time. "But now, the time has arrived. You must know the truth or the entire galaxy may fall into unspeakable darkness." Sinclair did not know what to say. Even though he had seen Delenn several times since she had emerged from the chrysalis, she had never mentioned the meeting that had not taken place. Now it seemed, he was to learn the truth. Delenn continued, "You know that we believe that Minbari souls have been leaving us and going into humans. What you do not know is HOW we know this. But to explain, I must start with history. Both yours and ours. "Tens thousand of your years ago, Minbari discovered that there were some among them who were special. They were immortal. The only way that they could be killed was by decapitation. "These immortals were revealed to us by the last of their kind. Or at least she thought she was the last. We learned that they had been irresistibly drawn to a place where they contested for the Prize. When there was only one of them left, she gained incredible powers. Powers over physical objects, powers over other's minds. In the wrong hands, these powers would bring about untold suffering. After that time, other immortals appeared, it seemed that there was more than one Prize. "Through the next five thousand years, there were seven more Gatherings, each heralding a new Age for the Minbari people.. Each Gathering occurred when our people were at some great crisis. Most of the Prizes were won by someone who used there powers for the benefit of others; but twice, the winner was evil and there was much suffering until they could be killed. We learned that of all the races in the galaxy, only we Minbari had these Immortals. "A thousand years ago, there was a great War. Far worse than anything we have seen yet in this one. The gathering of the immortals of our world took place. One finally emerged, beginning what may be the Last Age of the Minbari. His name was Valen. Using his powers, Valen forged the Minbari into a united people. He formed the Grey Council. He drove the darkness out. "Valen also prophesied. His prophecy is what drove me to become what I am today." Delenn paused for a moment and looked down at herself, if taking stalk of her own change. Slowly, she continued, "Valen told us that the darkness would return. That in order to defeat it the next time, another One must be found. He said that the One would not be Minbari. That another race would have to lead the fight, but that only by uniting our two peoples could the darkness be driven away forever. In the last thousand years, there has not been another immortal amongst our people. Sinclair sat very still. The idea of immortals was even harder to believe than the Minbari belief in souls. And yet...what about Deathwalker and her immortality drug? Delenn continued, "You were told that when we captured your ship at the Battle of the Line, that you were tortured and scanned. That we found that you had a Minbari soul and that we then surrendered rather than kill our own souls. This was partially correct. When we captured you, you were tortured, but you died during that torture." Lieutenant Jeff Sinclair fights his way back to consciousness. Every muscle in his body aches. As he slowly opens his eyes, he finds himself enveloped in a bright white light. 'Not again,' He thinks to himself, 'Please God, not again!' Outside the circle of light he sees only darkness. Sinclair is tied to a triangular structure, his arms held painfully over his head. Twice before, he has awakened to this same position. His uniform is in tatters, large sections had been ripped away. Blood and sweat cover the blue fabric. A robed and hooded figure enters the circle of light. Vaguely, Sinclair is able to make out several more figures standing just outside the light. These figures form a loose circle around him. Unable to control himself, Sinclair screams, his voice filled with fear, desperation and anger, "What do you want from me?!? What have I done? WHAT DO YOU WANT?" As before, there is no response. The figure before him reaches inside the robe and draws out a glowing, triangular-shaped crystal. As the hooded figure raises the Triluminary high overhead, the hood of the robe falls back, revealing the face of a Minbari woman. A woman that Sinclair would later know as Delenn. Looking at Sinclair, Delenn's face is filled with sorrow and pity, but she does not hesitate. She causes a beam of light to emerge from the Triluminary and strike Sinclair in the chest. Sinclair's body arches painfully as the beam penetrates to the core of his being. Then he knows nothing but darkness and pain. Returning to the present, Sinclair listened as Delenn continued the story. "You died and returned to life. I had to killed you four times before all on the Council were convinced that you were one of the legendary immortals. You are the One." Sinclair was stunned. He wasn't sure if he believed that Minbari souls were migrating to humans. But this! How could HE be immortal? Delenn did not allow Sinclair the luxury of time, "You must believe me. The time of the Gathering has arrived, Babylon 5 is the chosen place. Already the others have started fighting for the Prize. There is not much time. If you wish to live, you must learn to fight." "If what you are saying is true," Sinclair said slowly, "Then why don't I feel any different? Why haven't I changed?" "You have changed," came the reply, "You are not as you once were. You have no scars anywhere on your body. You have not been sick since that day on the Line. Jeff, you must believe me, you are immortal. And there are those on this station right now who would kill you to obtain the Prize." Any further discussions were stopped when Sinclair's door chimed. MacLeod stood in the doorway. Seeing Delenn, he placed his hands over his chest and bowed solemnly. Delenn, felt the presence of the Miwlerr. On her forehead, a triangle shape appeared and began glowing. Delenn reacted immediately. Taking a defensive stance, her hands poised before her, her body centered, ready to move in any direction, she prepared to defend her friend. "Go away! You have no right to him!" The words came out almost as a hiss. "Ez'Satai, it is good to see you. I have no intentions of killing Ambassador Sinclair. But we must talk, all three of us. Time grows short. The Gathering has begun. There is very little time. We must act now or Morden will win everything." "Who are you?" Sinclair's question emerged almost as a whisper. Straightening himself up to his full height, the tall man said, "I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in the highlands of Scotland in 1518, in the village of Glen Finnan, on the shores of Loch Shea. I am 741 years old. I was the winner of the last Prize." ACT III In a deserted section of Downbelow, a lone man rested in a dark corner. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and looked up. Jumping quickly to his feet, he reached behind him and drew his sword. Taking a defensive stance, he faced the nearest door and waited. "I see your reactions are good." Came Morden's voice from the other side of the door. "I am glad to see that you will at least make this one interesting. I had heard you were a pacifist." Stepping into the room, sword in hand, Morden began circling the stranger, seeking out a weakness in the other's defense. "Morden, I should have known it would be you. Have you killed the others as well?" "Yes, Shin Qo," Came the reply from the smiling Morden, "All the others. Only a few remain but there can be only ONE!" With the last word, Morden swung his sword in a vicious cross-body slash. Shin Qo, reacted, but was not able to completely block the full force of the blow. His left arm was slashed open and blood began to soak his shirt. Almost immediately however, the wound closed, and within a few seconds the only sign that he had been injured was the ripped fabric of his shirt and the bloodstains. Morden swung again, this time aiming for the regenerating arm. Shin Qo deflected the blow clumsily and riposted with a backhanded strike of his own. Morden smoothly blocked the blow and retaliated. The fight continued for several minutes. Morden smiled. Shin Qo was not a good swordsman and Morden enjoyed toying with his latest victim. The apparent stalemate might have continued indefinitely had not the Shadows interfered. Presuming that their Chosen One might not win this fight, they entered the fray. Becoming partially solid, one of the Shadows appeared behind Shin Qo. Seeing that his allies were trying to help, Morden decided to finish the fight. He drove his opponent back with a flurry of cross-body slashes and overhead smashes. Driven back, Shin Qo was only able to defend, not attack. As he continued to move back, he got closer and closer to the semi-translucent spider shape behind him. Shin Qo stepped back again and the Shadow struck. Shin Qo felt a sharp pain lance up his left leg. Reacting quickly, he tried to hop to his right and defend himself from this new attack while still holding off Morden. However, Morden beat Shin Qo to the spot. In one quick stroke, Morden severed Shin Qo's head. For an eerie moment, the body balanced in place, as if reluctant to admit that it had been defeated. Then, slowly, ponderously, the corpse collapsed into itself. The Shadow faded back from whence it came as the mist of the Quickening rose from the dead body of Shin Qo and overcame Morden. First, all of the electrical lights in the area exploded in a pyrotechnic nightmare. A wind came up from nowhere and swirled all the loose debris in the area into a violent, blinding whirlwind. Arcs of blue energy transfixed Morden's body as the essence, the very soul and power of Shin Qo left it's now dead master and merged with that of Morden's. One particularly large bolt struck Morden in the chest throwing his arms and head back in a mixture of pain and ecstacy. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. The darkened section of the station returned to the quiet that it had known before the fight. Slowly, almost wearily, Morden reached down and retrieved his opponents sword from the ground near the corpses feet. "There can be only ONE." Hearing the approach of what was undoubtedly Security, he quickly slipped behind a pile of crates and through a partially hidden hatch to the neighboring section. Sinclair sat on the couch in his quarters, stunned. The amount of information he had received had almost overloaded his brain. Immortality, the Prize, Morden. It was all too much. Delenn and MacLeod waited for him to recover somewhat. Finally, MacLeod could wait no longer. "Sinclair, we must act now. The Gathering has already started. Unless you want Morden to kill you and plunge the galaxy into darkness, you HAVE to snap out of this. Come on man! You are an officer in Earth Force. Start acting like one!" With his last words, MacLeod reached over and grabbed Sinclair's arm. Sinclair looked up into blue-grey eyes. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Good." MacLeod said, "Now it is time that you heard my story. If there is any chance of us defeating Morden, we must trust each other. "In 1985, I defeated the last of the old immortals, the Kurgen, and gained the Prize. With it's power, I pulled the world back from nuclear war. With my help, communism collapsed and the Cold War ended, Russia and China peacefully changed into more open societies. I couldn't do everything of course. It took me decades to settle the problems in the Balkans. But with the Prize, I managed. Eventually, new immortals were born. That was when I realized that the Prize was not the end, but part of a cycle. With each immortal born, I lost a little of the Power. After a hundred and fifty years, I realized that if I was going to be able to do any lasting good, I needed to do something before I lost it all. That was when I started to transfer bits of the Power to others, to mortals. I travelled around the world. Everywhere I went, I gave bits of the Power to unborn children. There, the Power was nurtured and grew. Eventually, these infants were born and they were able to use their gift. I hoped to help all mankind." "The first telepaths." Sinclair whispered in understanding. "Yes, the first telepaths. I hoped to teach them to use their understanding of others to help create a Utopia. But, lately, something has changed. The PsiCorp has become something to be feared. "Now, after almost three hundred years, I have no Power left. Everything I had, I gave to the telepaths. They continue to grow on their own. I am no longer needed." "What does all this have to do with me?" Sinclair asked. "You are the last immortal to be born in this Age. Also, you are the only one not born on Earth. The next age will need someone with a perspective that is larger than the planet of our birth. You have that vision. You must be the One." "What am I supposed to do then, kill you?" "Yes." Came the simple answer. Sinclair and Delenn were both shocked. Surely this man who had lived for almost a thousand years did not plan on simply letting himself be killed. As if reading their minds, MacLeod continued, "I do not belong in this galaxy. I belong to another, older world. A simpler world without Jump Gates and Lasers. I am tired." "But surely you don't expect me to just..." "No. I do not. You do not have the skills. You have never even touched a sword before. Morden would have no trouble killing you. What we must do is force a situation where he will be vulnerable and then you must kill him." "But what about you?" "I will be the bait." ACT IV Sheridan sat in his office, reading the daily reports. His door suddenly opened, something it was not supposed to be able to do on it's own. Sheridan looked up, seeing who was standing in the doorway, he stood, "Ambassador Kosh! Can I help you?" Sheridan immediately put down his paperwork. Checking his PPG, he grabbed his uniform jacket and followed Kosh out the door. Several minutes later, Kosh stopped in front of an unused cargo bay in Orange 12. After Sheridan had waited several minutes without Kosh doing anything obvious, he asked, "Now what?" Typically, Kosh did not answer. Realizing that he was not going to get anything out of his mentor, Sheridan relaxed and tried to wait patiently. Inside the cargo bay, Sinclair, Delenn and MacLeod waited for Morden's arrival. "I don't know if I can do this." Sinclair said, "Killing in battle is one thing. But to kill someone in cold blood..." "You must do what must be done." Delenn responded cold-bloodedly. "So you keep telling me." "Very touching." Morden said sarcastically as he emerged from the shadows, "I will remember that when I bury you. Delenn, always a pleasure. And MacLeod!" He said with mock surprise. Again he smiled and again it never reached his eyes. "I would have expected you to be dead by now." "Not quite Morden." "So this is to be three against one is it. Hardly seems fair. I should even the odds." With that, two figures materialized behind Morden. Their translucent, spidery shapes seemed to hover just above the bay floor. "Now things seem a little more even." Outside the bay, Kosh stirred and began moving toward the nearby door. Sheridan, surprised by the suddenness of the Vorlon's actions, was several steps behind. Kosh did not wait. As soon as he reached the cargo door, he opened it and entered the bay; Sheridan straggling a couple of steps behind. Morden gave the Vorlon a long look. "So. I thought you might show up. Ah, and Captain Sheridan. Your wife sends her regrets that she could not be here today. Pressing business, you understand." With a growl, Sheridan started to lunge for Morden, but Kosh raised one arm and Sheridan stopped. "I see Kosh has trained you well." The smirk on Morden's face spoke volumes. Bowing his head, still smiling, Morden drew his sword and advanced to the middle of the cargo bay. MacLeod also drew his dragon katana and advanced. Sinclair and Delenn remained to one side. "Watch your head Sinclair." MacLeod said with a slight smile. Without prelude, Morden swung his sword at the highlander. MacLeod blocked the swing easily and retaliated. The fight was on. During the battle, the two Shadows remained in place. Kosh moved over to stand between them and the humans. Sheridan, unsure what was going on, remained where he was near the main door. His eyes darting between the two men dueling with their archaic weapons, Sinclair, and Kosh. The battle continued for almost an hour. Several times, MacLeod seemed about to loose the battle only to perform some incredible feat, bounce away from his opponent and return to the fray again. Morden was relentless. He acted like a man supremely confident that he would win. Morden knew that in order to have won the Prize once before, that MacLeod must be a very skilled swordsman. But Morden also knew that MacLeod did not really want to win this fight. That gave Morden an edge. One that he exploited mercilessly. Around the bay the battle moved. Sparks from the clanging swords lit up the darker corners, the sound of their fighting echoed through the large hollow bay. Even the sound of their heavy breathing seemed to echo from the walls. The fight, of course, could not last forever. Eventually one of them had to make a fatal mistake that would signal the end. MacLeod stepped back from a particularly vicious series of attacks from Morden when his foot slipped on the sweat-covered floor. In that instant when MacLeod was recovering his balance, Morden struck. Morden's swing struck MacLeod just below the wrist, severing his hand and sending it and his ancient sword flying across the room. With his return swing, Morden cleanly severed MacLeod's head from his body. Whirling to face Sinclair, Morden grinned in triumph. Almost immediately, Morden was driven to his knees by the luminous Quickening rising out of MacLeod's corpse and impaling the helpless human. "Now!" Delenn yelled over the shrieking, "You must kill him now!" Sinclair started towards the kneeling man, then hesitated. "I can't. Not in cold blood. I'm sorry." Kosh's headpiece swivelled to face Sheridan, Suddenly, Sheridan understood. Scampering forward, Sheridan grabbed MacLeod's fallen katana and approached Morden. Sheridan had never used a sword before, but he was a trained fighter. Gripping the curved weapon in both hands, he swung. The force of the swing spun Sheridan completely around. Thus his back was to Morden when all hell broke loose. To Delenn, it seemed as if Morden's body exploded. Vague shapes flew out of Morden's body, mixed with the Quickening coming from MacLeod and flew around the room. The force of that explosion threw Sheridan into one of the walls where he lay in a crumpled heap, stunned. The two Shadows faded out as soon as Morden died. Kosh did not seem affected by the forces swirling around the cargo bay. His optical pickup swiveled around and focussed on Sinclair. The filaments of the Prize began to congeal into almost humanoid shapes. Still whirling around the bay, they began to move faster and faster. One of the larger strands suddenly dove down and pierced Sinclair through the chest. With a cry, half of agony, half of ecstacy, Sinclair was lifted off of the floor and floated amongst the gossamer filaments. "I can SEE *EVERYTHING*! I can FEEL *EVERYTHING*! I AM *EVERYTHING*!!!" Sinclair's cries echoed through the cargo bay. All of the lights exploded in at once, their broken shards falling to the floor in a cascade of fire. Delenn's hair was whipped about her face by the impossible wind. Finally, after several minutes, or eternities, the last of the Prize had been absorbed by Sinclair's body. Almost anticlimactically, his body fell to the floor in a huddled mass. The silence in the bay was deafening. Delenn was the first to recover. Moving over, she cradled Sinclair's head in her lap and checked to see that he was still alive. Sheridan, still stunned from his encounter with the wall could only watch. Sinclair opened his eyes, seeing Delenn's face hovering over him he said, "I know what I have to do. I understand now. The Shadows, the Vorlons, everything. I understand now." Kosh moved slowly over, when he came up beside Delenn and the One, he said, EPILOGUE In another part of Babylon 5 Anna Sheridan was sitting in a room. Two Shadows materialized before her and floated about two feet off of the floor. "Yes, I felt him lose." "No, I think that we can still win. We did not count on the Prize. It was only after contacting Morden that the Prize even entered into your plans. We are still on track. It is our destiny." "Yes, I agree. I will begin preparations immediately." With that the two Shadows faded out and Anna sat quietly for several minutes. Opening a small locket she wore around her neck, Anna stared at the picture inside. Inside the locket was a wedding picture. John Sheridan in his dress uniform and her. "Now, my dear Johnnie. It is time for us to be together again." ===================================================================== -- Virtually Yours, Richard Hazlewood RHAZLWD@KUHUB.CC.UKANS.EDU Do not assume malice when stupidity will suffice. -Flame War Comment