From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 1A of 2 Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 19:56:22 +0000 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase 2 - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Hi people. Here's the latest installment in my parallel universe saga, begun a very long time ago with A Dark, Distorted Mirror. All relevant preceding stories should be in the archives, but are available from me on request, along with a summary of current events, up to the end of Phase 1. Feedback is always very welcome and should be sent to the address below. Legal Disclaimer: B5 and all related characters and terms are owned by and copyright of 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, but that doesn't mean everyone's going to get a happy ending, I'm afraid... This story does contain Spoilers of a sort of the fourth season story Lines of Communication. Chapter 3:- Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers Part 1 of 2 [AT] [AC] by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk "I remember standing before the Grey Council, saying the words that would bind me to their path and the path they set out for me. 'I am Grey. I stand between the Candle and the Star. We are Grey. We stand between the Darkness and the Light.' "Foolishness. None of us are neutral. Not Delenn, not Kalain, not the Earthers and certainly not me. "Neither of course, are the technomages, whatever their protestations. Through the Vindrizi remaining here I know more about the technomages than almost any alive. They are no more neutral than I. They simply recognise different sides. "I stand here, where light was once brought to the darkness, yet my heart and soul are elsewhere - a rainswept, pathetic rock called Kazomi 7. Delenn is there, dying. "My feelings regarding Delenn are irrelevant. I respecter her ambition, her intelligence and her convictions. I loathe her false superiority, her vulnerability and her religious caste sensibilities. In the conflict between us, I was simply the one willing to do whatever it took to win. The fact that my victory has brought me here is also irrelevant. "Delenn is dying. I am practically hear her breath solidifying in her throat. She is no longer Minbari. Her transformation, no matter the reason, was a political gamble - one which failed. It is strangely fitting that her human half will be responsible for killing her. "Perhaps the technomages will save her, perhaps they will not. I do not care. If Valen wills it, she shall be saved. If Valen wills it, I shall guide my people to their destiny, with or without Delenn's assistance. "There, Sech Derhan. Have I suitably purged myself for you now?" Sinoval of the Wind Swords clan, Holy One of the Minbari, in a meditative ritual. Dated, by the human calendar, May 1st 2259 * * * * * "Typical. We leave for a couple of weeks and they have to go and re-decorate on us." Such cynical remarks were not uncommon from the mouth of former Minister Londo Mollari these days, although in this case, even he was guilty of colossal understatement. When they had left Kazomi 7 in search of the Vindrizi as price for the aid of the technomages, the planet had been a Drazi-run colony - a trading station for virtually the entirety of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The place had been a little yes - a little rough and just a little corrupt. A great deal had changed in just a few weeks. Almost all of the former Drazi administrators were currently hanging ivarious pieces from various prominent buildings around the colony. Their Bulloxian enforcers had ran as fast as they could - which had turned out not to be nearly fast enough - and those who hadn't managed to escape were now either very unpleasantly dead or were hiding somewhere they hoped they would never be found. No trading ships came here. All communications from the Merchant Guilds were shut down. Nobody could afford to send ships in to investigate - not in trying times like this. The takeover of Kazomi 7 had been enacted with such brutality, speed and deadly efficiency that even now few knew who were responsible. Those who had survived prayed they would never find out. Londo Mollari was not as lucky. "Drakh," he muttered to himself, recalling millennia old legends and horror stories - legends now proved true. "Drakh." They had raided a number of Centauri worlds centuries ago. Then the Centauri had been strong enough to drive them away, although not without some cost. If they had returned... Londo tried to shake such thoughts away. The Drakh, powerful and dangerous as they were, were not currently his primary concern. "How is she?" he asked. Vindrizi looked up. "Alive, for the moment." Londo muttered silent thanks to all the Gods he did not believe in, and then cursed them all for putting him in this situation to begin with. As he looked at his companions he realised just how awkward his position was. Delenn was dying, there was no doubt about that. Of course she had been dying for a good while, but this time she was a lot more serious about it. She could not speak, she could not walk. It seemed that even breathing was an effort for her. Of necessity, they had remained on the place where the Vindrizi were hiding. Their medical care had managed to partially stabilise Delenn's systems, but even they could only do so much. If Delenn were to be saved, it was the technomages or nothing. Perhaps that delay would end up killing her after all. Londo was still very unsure as to how he felt about Delenn. He did not like Minbari - and never had; they were sanctimonous, insufferable and very, very boring. He also could never forget what they had done to Earth. He had actually been to Earth a number of times and found he quite liked the place. It was one of his greatest personal shames that he had been unable to persuade the Centarum to take part in the Earth / Minbari conflict until it was far too late, and then they had chosen the wrong side. But still... he remembered Delenn crying out in the grip of fever. He remembered her begging for forgiveness and he began to wonder what demons could drive her this far - to change her entire biology. He hoped he would never have to find out. And then there was Vindrizi. Now, Londo was at a bit of a loss about him. He was a Narn for one thing, and with their peoples currently at war, Londo would not have thought that this would make for happy travelling arrangements. On the other hand, Vindrizi did not seem to think of himself as a Narn, and the only name he would give was the name of the disgusting insect parasite thing currently wrapped around his spinal column. He knew a great deal - well, everything every Vindrizi did, through some means Londo did not want to think about. He also scared Londo half to death, but still... They were almost there. Deliver him to the technomages, get Delenn received, receive that gift and the warning that Elric had promised them all, and then Londo would never have to see any of them again. Fourth, and last... there was Shaal Lennier, keela poet, adventurer, agent of G'Kar's Circle of Light, magnificent card shark and expert bar-room brawler. Lennier was also a Minbari but Londo found he actually liked him - the Great Maker alone knew why. Perhaps it was because Lennier reminded Londo of himself in his youth... or probably not. Lennier was currently away on a scouting mission. Kazomi 7 was a dangerous place these days, and Londo knew only too well just how dangerous these Drakh were. He had surely been gone too long. Their return to Kazomi 7 would have been a difficult affair at the best of times. Londo and Lennier were both wanted for involvement in a bar-room brawl and for subsequent escape from the cells here; they had stolen a ship to get away from the planet and to get back; and none of them wanted any sort of attention from the authorities at the best of times. They had planned to get Captain Jack - the insufferable human pilot of the ship they had stolen - to drop them off somewhere just outside of the main colony and make their way in. That part would have gone according to plan, if they hadn't had to outrun two Drakh ships on their way. Somehow, Captain Jack had managed that and had dropped them off. He had then departed very quickly, muttering some nonsense about running the 'fastest ship this side of the Rim,' leaving Londo, Lennier, Delenn and Vindrizi the unenviable task of finding the technomages again, in a city full of Drakh. Londo hoped that the technomages would find them, but they had been in the city for almost two days now and had heard nothing, so an unpleasant thought was arising in his mind. Were the Drakh a match for the technomages? And if so, were there any technomages left to welcome them? * * * * * Elric inclined his head in a gesture of respect. If the inclination was a little shorter that it should have been, he could be forgiven. These were dark times. "We have lost two more," whispered the figure on the throne before him. Jamis, the One Above All, lord and master of the technomages, and the only living being before whom Elric felt in awe. "Yes, Lord. They were killed earlier today. The Drakh are closing in on our place here. We have gathered all of our order that we can, and any who remain are surely lost to us." "Such pessimism, Elric." "Great Lord, the Darkness knows we are here. They have sent the Drakh here to find us. You know how powerful they are - how aware they are of our secrets. We must begin preparations to leave this place." "Why must we do so, Elric? Let the abominations come unto us. We cannot leave yet. The three we sent out have returned, with that which we sent them to find." "Great Lord, they are as doomed as we are." "Perhaps not. They are opposed to the Darkness, remember. They do not see what we do about the Light they claim to serve. They may not even know they serve it. That may be their greatest strength. "Find them, Elric. Find the three, and that which they found for us. Find them and bring them here. We shall then repay them, and leave this place. Then, our work here will be done." "And if the Drakh find them first, Lord?" The One Above All moved in his throne, sitting forward so that a beam of light shone on his face. His eyes were gleaming with the full hint of his age and power. Elric, who had faced down demons, First Ones, creatures far far older than anything any of the Younger Races could comprehend... Elric found himself cowering before the power in that gaze. Jamis was a God, and more than a God. "Then destroy them." Elric knew how much of a threat the Drakh were; he knew of the low and bloody history between Drakh and technomage; he knew of the sheer danger they posed to his order and of the difficulty of what the One Above All was asking. He knew all these things and yet he simply said in reply; "Yes, Great Lord." * * * * * He is trapped by chains he can neither see nor feel. His muscles are locked, paralysed; his nerves are deadened, so that he can neither feel the agonies he knows he must be experiencing nor make action to ease them. He supposes he should have expected this, although that does not make his plight any easier. If anything, it makes it worse. He embarked on a simple scouting mission, laying out the land ahead, trying to make contact with the technomages. It had not been necessary, and he had known this even as he set out. It was her - the Zha'valen. He could hardly bear to be around her, and so he had left. She had betrayed her people - his people - and it did not matter that she was innocent. What mattered was that she had been found guilty. A technicality, to be sure, and one which he recognised, but that did not make his plight any easier, either. Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo is still alive, technically - a living mind in a paralysed body, helpless at the mercy of his captors. He can make no sound, or movement, or motion, but within his mind, Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo is screaming. * * * * * "Drakh," Londo muttered to himself, running the same word over and over again in his mind, trying to remember the legends about them. They had become little better than bogeymen in the centuries since they had last been active, and solid information had been replaced by ghoulish rumour. They eat the flesh of those they capture. They are the spirits of the unjustly dead, come to claim revenge upon the living. They can walk through walls. They can see in the darkness. They are telepathic. They are sorcerors. Stories and fables, although, as Londo peeked out into the silent, darkened streets of Kazomi 7, he found himself wondering just how many of those stories were true. Delenn was moaning again, not loudly, but in the grim silence of the night, any noise sounded like an earthquake. Londo turned to look at her, and his expression hardened at the sight of her almost epileptic twitchings and thrashings. Vindrizi was beside her, but he could do little. "She will be dead soon," Londo said grimly. It was true. How Delenn had survived this long was a miracle. Her body had been tearing itself apart for the best part of five months, destroying its own vital organs, tearing apart its own muscles and nerves and cells; Minbari biology unable to cope with human. "In all probability," replied Vindrizi, his voice far too soft and grieving for a Narn. "There is nothing you can do for her?" "Nothing I know will be of any use to her now. Only the technomages can save her." "You have had dealings with the technomages before, yes?" Londo was constantly looking around while whispering. The building they had taken refuge in was deserted, and he had a view of the only street leading to it, but if even half of the rumours about the Drakh were true, then this would be no adequate defence. "Yes, we have. We were created to be storehouses of knowledge, they to be a reservoirs of power - two forces linked together always. We have been separated for too long. Before the technomages leave, we must be reunited." "Yes, so I gather - assuming we ever get past these Drakh. Why are they here anyway? For the technomages, or for us?" "Perhaps for neither reason, or perhaps for both. The Drakh are possibly the most dangerous foe you will ever encounter, Minister Mollari. More deadly by far than anything you have yet come across." "You have... encountered them before?" Londo was still finding it difficult to believe that the Narn before him had memories going back millennia. He was finding it even more difficult to believe that he had been in the company of this Narn for several weeks and both of them were still alive. "We have, yes. Many Drakh were once former technomages." "What?!" Londo fell silent instantly and began looking around hastily. For over a minute there was complete silence, each second seeming to be a period twenty times that length. Finally, he moved again, and repeated himself, quieter this time. "What?" "The Drakh are an old race, not as old as the Minbari perhaps, but older than many of the races currently active. Over a thousand years ago, they were intergalactic raiders, pirates, bringing chaos and death to countless worlds. They were - still are - efficient, brutal and very intelligent. They also had a smattering of skills you might call magic. They may be considered the ultimate warmakers. "These skills drew them to the attention of another race, far older than the Drakh, a race just beginning to return to events in this galaxy. This race explained their goals to the Drakh, who eagerly made the alliance." Softly, as if merely speaking the name cursed him for all time, Londo whispered the single word; "Shadows." "Yes. The Drakh were used as minions of the Shadows in their last war. When that war was lost, they went into hiding along with their masters, and now they have returned." "So what is the connection with the technomages?" "Many Drakh once served in that order. Drakh possess similar skills and were happy to share knowledge and learnings. Once the Drakh allied themselves with the Shadows, however, they were expelled from the ranks of the technomages, in a violent and bloody schism. Even today, the Drakh know more about the technomages than any other living beings. "The technomages possess a rare and powerful gift. It is only understandable than... forces should wish to misuse that gift, and if it cannot be used, then destroyed." "I see. This is not good." "No. The technomages are not warriors, and this is not their war. Nor is it mine, and it is only yours by force of circumstance." "Ah, you mean the fact that the Great Maker hates me." "Well," Vindrizi smiled. "Perhaps there is that also." Delenn began to cry out softly, whispering harsh words in the Minbari language. Londo was certain she was begging for forgiveness again. "I think Mister Lennier is lost to us," Londo said. "We will have to abandon him for the present." Just saying those words put a sour taste in his mouth. He honestly liked Lennier, and hated to leave him in the hands of those... things. But... Londo started, shivering and looking around. But... They were not alone. Vindrizi had evidently noticed it as well. He rose to his feet, stepping forward softly. And there, out of the darkness before them - coming from the opposite direction to the door - radiating all of its malevolent power and dark aura; complete in majesty and terror; moving ever so slowly like the herald of death itself... There came a Drakh. * * * * * From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers Part 1B of 2 Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 19:58:58 +0000 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7BIT Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 1B of 2 [AT] [AC] by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk G'Kar had adpated to many changes in the last few years, but the one thing he doubted he would ever get used to was throwing his consciousness out over hundreds of light-years in every direction. While his body remained locked in the Heart of the Great Machine, his soul can be sent out, in holographic form, to almost anywhere he liked. It smacked almost of blasphemy to him, but he had long ago accepted that it is impossible to win any struggle while keeping clean hands. Still, he preferred debating the morals of his actions to doing what he was now forced to do - namely, accepting his own failure. G'Kar had been very busy in recent months; observing the Streib assaults on a number of the Non-Aligned Worlds, studying the chaos on Minbar, finally dying down although through no action of his, dealing with Bester, keeping tracks on the gathering of forces at Proxima 3... Kazomi 7 had seemed beneath his notice. He had twice attempted to talk with the technomages there and he had twice been refused. G'Kar had been keeping track of Delenn, Londo and Lennier's quest there, but that was it. He had completely missed the Drakh invasion, and would have been unable to make any difference even if he had noticed. Thousands had died because G'Kar had been too busy to notice them. He swore that would not happen again. His holographic form materialised in the room he had been in twice before. Even the first time, finding this place had not been difficult. The sheer power radiated by the technomages here had been almost magnetic, drawing him to this particular place. Elric was here, kneeling in what may have been prayer. The room was simple and unadorned, with only a bed and a table. G'Kar walked towards Elric, instinctively skirting around the table. Some things he would take a great while to get used to. Elric slowly rose to his feet and turned around. He was angry. Very angry. In fact, he appeared calm and collected, but G'Kar could see the merest hint of flames burning at the back of the technomage's eyes. "Leave me, G'Kar," Elric rasped. "My answer is the same as it was the time before." "The Drakh are a powerful threat, mage," G'Kar said, choosing his words carefully. "Surely you can use some help..." "Not from you." "Three of my agents are on this planet and I cannot find them. I need your help, mage. I need..." "I do not care what you need, G'Kar. You are nothing more than a puppet who cannot see his strings, a piece of the machine that thinks it is the whole of the machine. You are blind. We do not fight your wars." "But others do. The Drakh do. You have great power, mage. Think on what you can do if you aid us. Think on those killed at this place." "I have been. Thinking of those of those order killed at this place." "Not just those. The others..." "None of whom mattered to me in the slightest. We do not fight in this war, G'Kar. I will find your agents in this city, and I will obtain from them that which I sent them to find. I will then give them what they have asked for, and we will depart this place and this galaxy, never to return. "Our time here will be done." "You cannot throw away that power, or someone else will simply pick it up..." "Begone, G'Kar. I have other concerns." "Not until I am finished..." "I said BEGONE!" Elric's eyes blazed and he raised his hands, fire flickering from his fingertips. G'Kar instinctively backed off and raised his arms to cover his face, but to no avail... Several exquisitely pain-wracked minutes later, he opened his eyes to find his consciousness returned to the Heart of the Great Machine. He did not know how Elric had done what he had done, and he did not want to ask. What he did know was that Delenn, Londo and Lennier were now even more alone than they had been - trapped in a city of death. * * * * * Londo swallowed harshly, trying to restrain an almost primal sense of terror. The Drakh seemed cloaked in shadows, barely noticeable with his eyes, but with his other senses... It smelled of rot and decay. Londo had once visited a battlefield - the then Narn-held colony of Dros 4, after it had been retaken in the middle stages of the last war. He had looked around the devastation and the bodies and had made a speech about a magnificent step in the Centauri's return to greatness. The smell of death on the whole planet had been something he could never forget, and it is an uncomfortable reminder here. "Who...?" asked the Drakh, in a voice that scraped at the inside of Londo's ears. The voice was dry, hoarse, devoid of any feelings of compassion or mercy or love. It was surely the voice of death. "No... no one," Londo said, thinking very quickly. There were a number of possibilities here, none of them very pleasant. If Vindrizi was right and the Drakh were after the technomages, then this one should know that no one here present fit that description. It would then either let them go or kill them horribly. "Important...?" Okay, so it wondered to know if they were important or not. There had been a Centauri Merchants Guild on Kazomi 7 - it was currently little more than a collection of rubble and bodies - so the Drakh presumably knew who Centauri were. If Londo claimed to be someone important then he might be taken away for questioning (not nice) or he might be killed horribly here and now (equally not nice.) On the other hand, if he said he wasn't important, then the Drakh might leave them alone, (good) or it might kill them horribly just for the sheer hell of it (not nice). *Who am I trying to kid? That thing will kill us because it doesn't like my hair, or something...* "No," Vindrizi said. "Not important at all." Londo inwardly cringed. Trust Narns to come in and mess everything up. The Drakh made a gesture that was presumably a smile. The idea of it smiling was the second worst thing Londo could currently think of. The only thing worse was the thought that it might be doing something other than smiling... "Then... die..." The Drakh raised what was presumably an arm and Londo's instincts found themselves working faster than his brain. He threw himself in front of Delenn while Vindrizi leapt towards the Drakh. Londo had no idea what the crazy Narn was doing, and he did not want to care. He kept his head buried in Delenn's shoulder, hoping that at least he would die without seeing it. When he realised that it had been several seconds without hearing any noise, he turned and looked in the direction of the fight. Vindrizi was lying motionless, with the Drakh rising up over him, its back to Londo. He contemplated attacking the monster, or running away very quickly, or pretending to be dead... He was contemplating a great many things, but none of them mattered. Just as well, as his muscles seemed to have stopped working. Vindrizi finished pushing the dead Drakh away and he staggered to his feet. He was covered in blood and was pressing his right arm up against the side of his chest. "Everything has... a weakness..." he rasped. "Even Drakh. Even... this body. It... broke a number of corollary organs. I estimate only... an hour or so... before they coalesce in the heart and... this body... dies." Londo closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer to gods he did not believe in. "An hour?" "Maybe." "Long enough. We have to hurry." Londo scooped up Delenn, surprised at how light she was. She weighed almost nothing. She moaned at his touch and buried her head in his shoulder. He turned to Vindrizi. "Can you... walk?" "This body... can... for the moment." "Good. We had better hurry." As they abandoned their brief hudeaway and ran out onto the streets of Kazomi 7, it took them a while before they realised that they had no idea where they were going. It took them a little while longer before they realised that the Drakh were following them. * * * * * Captain John Sheridan was maybe a little more relaxed now than he had been in recent months, but there were still occasions when everything he had been through weighed down upon him especially hard. Those times tended to be when he was alone, which was why he tried to be alone as little as possible. Usually this was not a problem. There were always plenty of drills to be run on board the Parmenion, strategy sessions to go over with Ko'Dath and Major Krantz and Commander Corwin. There were patrol missions - such as the recent action against the raiding Streibs and diplomacy missions to Tuchanq. Alas, currently, there was little to do. The Parmenion was running at peak efficiency, Major Krantz was spending some time with his family on Sanctuary, Corwin was... well, Sheridan wasn't certain where he was, but he had been hearing interesting rumours about him and Doctor Mary Kirkish. Ko'Dath was likewise busy, training up the new recruit to the 'Narn Bat Squad' - G'Dan, whom Corwin had rescued from the Streibs. Ben Zayn and his Ozymandias were currently out on patrol, leaving the Parmenion doing guard duty at Sanctuary. Even Captain Carn Mollari and his Valerius were away - doing something very secret over at Epsilon 3. As a result, Sheridan was alone. He hated being alone, but he had come to something of an epiphany recently, and he realised that it was time he did something rather than brooding on the past. Attempting to cook something might not have been the best possibility, but there it was... He was just in the middle of burning his pasta when his door chimed. He turned to face it, rubbing at his forehead. He seemed to be developing a headache. Typical. "Who is it?" he asked. "Cap... tain." Sheridan started. Lyta Alexander, the Parmenion's resident telepath. What was she doing here? She hated Sheridan, willing to work with him where necessary, but otherwise ignoring him. She blamed him for the death of her lover, Marcus Cole. What was she doing here? Sheridan moved towards the door. "Open," he said cautiously. The door swung open and Lyta literally fell inside. Sheridan rushed towards her and managed to pick her up off the floor, carrying hre inside his room and placing her down on the couch. "Sheridan to MedLab," he barked into his Link. "No..." Lyta whispered. "No... Can't do... anything. She needs you..." "What? Who needs me?" He had a sinking feeling he knew who. He'd ben thinking about Delenn quite a bit lately. Well, all right, he'd been thinking about her whenever he wasn't thinking about Anna. "She's dying... She's... hurting. She needs you. She... The voice... told me to... They won't leave me alone!" The last came out as a plaintive cry. Lyta tried to raise her head to head at Sheridan and she grabbed the breast of his jacket. "She needs you!" He looked directly at her, into her eyes and for one, impossible moment, Lyta's eyes seemed to become the infinite green that he knew so well from Delenn's. Then her hand swung up and gently brushed his forehead. Sheridan swayed and was unconscious before he hit the floor. *She... needs... you!* * * * * * Londo had had enough of running. His legs were on the verge of giving way and while Delenn still seemed almost weightless, her constant movements made it difficult for him to keep hold of her. Finally he realised that his knees were about to give way and he just managed to lower Delenn to the ground before they did so. He did no idea where they were. Not even Vindrizi seemed to know, and as he staggered up just next to Londo, the Centauri could see that his companion would be dead within minutes. After everything he had been through... The Second Line, countless assasination attempts, Soul Hunters, Refa, Lady Elrisia, even his triple-damned wives... this did not seem fair. All around them, the Drakh emerged, shimmering from the shadows, bringing the darkness with them. Londo gagged, but had nothing within his stomach to bring up. He wasn't sure if this feeling had been there before, but he suddenly looked up, sensing a strange... aura. A coming... of hope, of power, of ancients... The Drakh began to hiss and Londo managed to find the strength to haul himself up to a sitting position. He smiled, and then he actually began to laugh. "Tell me, Minister Mollari," asked Elric, stepping forward at the head of the technomages. "How much faith do you have in us?" "Oh... quite enough, thank you," he laughed. "Then let us see if it is justified." To Be Continued... From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 2A Date: Sun, 14 Dec 1997 13:27:51 +0000 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase 2 - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Chapter 3:- Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 2 of 2 [AT] [MV] by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk There was a moment's silence, a pause as two ancient and powerful enemies met again across a bloody battlefield. As the only independent observer conscious enough to bear witness, Londo Mollari was in a unique position. He quite often hated the universe for putting him in such unique positions. Especially when they cost the lives of so many. He didn't know if either Delenn or Vindrizi was still alive. The Narn was still breathing - technically speaking - but Delenn was not even doing that. Londo lacked the energy to protest at this fate. It wasn't fair. Not for him, not for her, not for any of them. And then the leading Drakh moved and all of Londo Mollari's attention was focussed on the battle before him. Drakh and technomage. He had seen technomages before, in his youth, and then he had doubted that there could be anything else as powerful or as awesomely majestic in all the universe. His opinions and experiences had changed a great deal since then, but it was still hard to believe that there could be anything even as remotely powerful as the technomages. He was wrong. What had Vindrizi said? *"Even today, the Drakh know more about the technomages than any other living beings. *"The technomages possess a rare and powerful gift. It is only understandable that... forces should wish to misuse that gift, and if it cannot be used, then to destroy it."* Londo could not be sure what type of weapon the Drakh were using - it seemed to be no more than a small ball of flashing light. Still, as he saw the flashes of lightning and heard the screams of pain, he knew he would be forever glad that he was not the one currently fighting them. He felt strong hands drag him backwards, and he resisted. "I can walk," he said, adding, "I think," just in case. "Then please hurry, Minister Mollari," said the technomage. It was the human, Vejar. "This is not our battle." "No?" Londo saw a mammoth demon rise up and march towards the Drakh. They backed away hesitantly, but still kept up the attack. "Then whose?" "We are here to help the four of you. Now hurry, please." "I can walk." With Vejar's help Londo staggered to his feet, but before he could take a single step his legs finally gave way and he collapsed. All around him, the Drakh were moving... * * * * * * * *She needs you.* *Leave me alone! Why are you doing this to me?* *Alone. Dying. Frightened. Needs help. Needs you. Help her.* *I...* *You were alone... dying... afraid. You needed help. You know...* *Yes, I needed help, and where the hell were you? You let Marcus die, you let her almost kill me!* *Wrong.* *What?* *Wrong! Help came. Ships came. Drove away the Darkness.* *What? The... the Vorlon ships at the Second Line. But... you came because...* *You called us. We came.* *But... but Marcus...* *Irrelevant. Death was necessary.* *Necessary? How... how can... how could it be...?* *You must be undeterred. You have a mission. A special task to come. We are preparing you for it.* *What mission? This isn't making any sense!* *Irrelevant. Understanding is a three-edged sword. It will come in time.* *Maybe I don't want it come! Maybe I don't want to be a part of your task... maybe... maybe I just wanted to be happy... Oh, Marcus...* *Irrelevant.* *You don't believe in anything, do you? You've never known love, or fear, or... nothing.* *Fear is a mirror. Love is an anchor. Both are irrelevant. You are needed.* *No one needs me.* *She needs you. She is dying. Alone. Afraid. She needs you, and him.* *Captain Sheridan, but... who needs me...? Delenn... But how?* *You became one with her. A link. A bridge between races. He will cross that bridge. But she is dying. She needs you.* *How can I feel this? This isn't...* *Once, I was a part of her. Then, I became a part of you. There is a link there. Use it.* *I don't understand. I can't do anything. Delenn's light years away. What can I do for her?* *Support her. To be a friend at the brink of despair. To be a link at the moment of fracture. To put her with him.* *And what would that do?* *Destiny. And love.* *You said love was irrelevant.* *Understanding is a three-edged sword.* *What does that mean?* *Dying. Alone. Afraid. She needs to be with him.* *Captain Sheridan?* *Yes.* *I still don't understand.* *Irrelevant. Understanding is not required now. Obedience is. Salvation is. This... is a beginning.* *Watch, and learn.* * * * * * * * "I take it I am still alive, then?" "Much to our eternal regret, Minister Mollari, that is the case." "Well, someone got out of bed the wrong side this morning." Londo sat up and instantly moaned. "It is not fair. I should not have this much of a headache without alcohol involved." "It is simple exhaustion and stress, Minister," replied Elric. "Nothing more." "Yes, well... Great Maker." Londo had seen many wondrous - and quite a few terrifying - things in his time, but the sight of ten technomages fussing around a crystal device containing Delenn's comatose body was still high on the list. "What is... that thing?" It looked like a cross between a pagan altar and a cryogenics chamber, made entirely of crystal. There was an infinity of reflections, gleaming off each facet of diamond, resounding throughout eternity... Lying in the centre of the machine, her hands folded calmly across her breast, surrounded by endless images of herself, her eyes closed and a faint smile at her mouth, an awkward joining of human and Minbari... Londo doubted Delenn had ever looked as peaceful. Or as beautiful. "A transformations machine. Similar to that which she used to transform into her current state. It will reverse the degradation, and recreate her. We began building it shortly after you left." "Ah..." Londo's mind regressed a little. "The Drakh? We... won, then." "Five of our order were killed, Minister Mollari. If you can call that a victory..." "Yes... I... understand." "Still, you obtained that for which we sent you. We are grateful, and we shall repay you. A gift and a warning for each of you." "Hah, what sort of gift, I wonder. And it isn't even my birthday... wait! Mr. Lennier. Where is...?" Elric stopped and turned. "Minister Mollari, Shaal Lennier's whereabouts are known to us and we are doing all we can to save him, but if we do not act quickly, then Delenn will die." He paused, and a flash of uncertainty crossed his face. "I would have liked more time to do this... more time to be certain." "Can you save her?" "Of course we can. The question is, whether we should. Still, there is little time to debate that now. We will just have to hope." "Hope is all we have," Londo whispered. "Perhaps for you." Elric looked at the other nine technomages. One of them was the human, Vejar. He nodded, and they all took a step back. "We are ready," Elric breathed. "This machine will recreate her flesh, changing her genetic pattern to a... more stable matrix. Our magics will channel through it, providing the power to change her. It will not be an easy thing to perform, Minister Mollari, but I think it will be harder to watch. You may go, if you wish." Londo shook his head. "I think... I do not think I could miss this." "Then you must watch only. No matter what happens. No matter what any of us does or says, you must not interfere. No word, no action, no thought. Do you understand?" Londo tried to speak, but the words died in his throat. He nodded. "Good." This time, Londo managed the words. "This will... work, will it not? She will live?" "Minister Mollari, this machine, channelling our magics... could change her into anything at all. This machine will save her body." Londo cocked his head. That seemed an odd wording, even for a technomage. "But there is a problem, and that is something over which we will have no control. "She may not want to return to this world. If she does not, then she will die, and that is something that no power in existence can change." * * * * * * * Delenn opened her eyes. For a moment she lay still, unwilling to return to a world which seemed to consist entirely of pain. Although it had only been four months in human terms since her brutal emergence from the chrysalis, she had adapted to living in a body which was constantly on the verge of tearing itself apart. She was so used to it by now, that it took her a few moments to realise that she wasn't in pain any more. Not at all. She stood up and looked around. She was back on Minbar, on the hill just above the lake beside Yedor. She smiled softly. This had been her favourite place as a child. She loved its tranquillity, its peace and calm. Here, the world seemed to stop moving. She could come here and rest and sit and just... think. She had come here after her father had died, after Neroon had left, after her return to Minbar following the end of the war with humanity. This was... She blinked. The lake was muddy and filled with dust, its brilliant waters no longer shining with sunlight. In fact, there was no sunlight any more. The entire sky seemed dark, heavy with clouds of ash. There was a small piece of stone at the foot of the stunted, burned husk of the tree she had always sat beneath. "In Valen's name," she whispered. She knew what the words on the stone said. She had seen this place before. Last year, on board the time-travelling space station Babylon 4, she had met Valen, and fought Shadows and had... and had seen the future. This future. Minbar was devastated, Yedor reduced to rubble, and she... she had been standing before John's grave. And in the muddy waters of the lake she had seen a reflection of herself, no longer Minbari. That sight had impelled her to enter the chrysalis, to complete her destiny and reunite Minbar... She had failed, miserably, but... she had changed in the chrysalis, but not to the face she had seen reflected in the water. Perhaps she had changed this future, albeit unwittingly. Had her life been the price for his? "Delenn!" She turned and gasped, almost falling backwards. It was... it was... "John," she whispered. "How are you... how can you be here?" He ran towards her. "I... it is you." She hesitated, remembering his - justified - coldness towards her before she had left Sanctuary. Then he paused, and smiled sadly. Smiling too, she went into his arms. For a moment she was content to remain there, but he, alas, was not. He stepped back. "Where are we? What's happening here? The last thing I remember, I was on Sanctuary, and you... I half thought you were dead." "Maybe I am," she said softly. She remembered closing her eyes. The flight through Kazomi 7 had been too much for her. She had closed her eyes and... ... woken up here. "I don't know what is happening," she said. "I'm sorry, John. I..." "Oh well." He took another step back, and she let her arms fall awkwardly to her sides. "Perhaps if we have a look around, we might find something. This... you described this place to me once, didn't you? You had a vision of this place." "No!" she cried out as he began turning in the direction of his grave. After the Babylon 4 incident she had told him of her vision of this place, but not of the sight of his grave. She did not know if he was a dream, a ghost or what... but she did not want him to see his own grave. "John, we cannot know our future. We..." She suddenly gasped and fell forward, dropping to her knees. Her stomach! "Aagh!" she cried out. Tears came to her eyes. "Oh, Valen!" John was by her side instantly, holding her. "Delenn, what is...?" Then the world faded all around them, and they were lost, not in the future this time, but in the past... * * * * * * * *I... can't. This... HURTS!* *Continue. You must maintain the link.* *I can't!* *You must! For her sake. For his future. Hold the link!* * * * * * * * "Interesting," said Alfred Bester. A simple enough word from anyone else, but from him it was almost chilling. Even Michael Garibaldi, who had worked with Bester for years, and was closer to him than almost anyone, found his 'Boss' scary at times. "Since when were Miss Alexander's eyes green?" "I don't know, Boss. That's just one whole part of this weird thing. We found her and Captain Sheridan unconscious in his room. No idea what she was doing there." "Oh, come on, Mr. Garibaldi. Captain Sheridan is a man like any other. I'm sure he has... urges." *His wife just died,* Garibaldi thought, but he didn't pursue the matter. He more than anyone knew that when Bester was in this sort of mood, there was little point in getting in his way. "Anyway, we thought we'd better bring you over here. The Doc here doesn't think they should be moved to the station." "Very wise. I think we should leave them here," Bester said. He looked a little distracted. "I've got this most... odd... headache. I wonder if..." He laid his right hand on Lyta's forehead. He didn't remove his glove, but then someone as powerful as he was didn't need to. Suddenly his knees gave way and he slumped to the floor. Garibaldi rushed forward, but Bester managed to haul himself back up. "Very interesting," he muttered. "That was a very impressive piece of psychic defence. I wonder where she picked up such a technique." "Boss?" "Hmm... what?" "What should we do? The Docs say they're both fine, just... neither of them is moving. It's like they're in a deep sleep or something." "Then, Mr. Garibaldi, we leave them here and we hope they get better. Yes, very interesting. Lyta had a little Vorlon..." * * * * * * * There was one thing Shaal Lennier was determined not to forget, and that was his name. All else he could discard behind him, but his name... never. The pain - both physical and perceived - had stopped. He was still paralysed, but he could think. A little, at any rate. He was certainly awake enough to witness the thing moving towards him. It was humanoid, with blue skin, and eyes that seemed to pierce him completely, tearing through to his soul. It was not a Drakh, but somehow... perhaps it was worse. In its hands, the figure was holding... something. Lennier could not see what. He had an instinct though. All those years of meditation and prayer in temple had heightened his senses and his awareness. He could recognise evil when he saw it. This... this thing... it was evil. The Keeper opened its eye as the Zener brought it closer. * * * * * * * From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 2B, Date: Sun, 14 Dec 1997 13:35:20 +0000 Singers, Shapers, Dreamers, Makers, Part 2B of 2 [AT] [AC] by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk "In Valen's Name." Had Captain John Sheridan led anything like a normal life he would probably have dropped dead from a heart attack about now, but as his life had been eventful - to say the least - he was able to deal with what was happening to him with some rationality. Of course, being around Delenn did not make him all that rational, especially when he had just gone from Sanctuary, to a devastated future Minbar and now to... well, to the Hall of the Grey Council itself. Sheridan had been here before, twice. The first time as a prisoner paraded before the Grey Council and the second as a warrior, engaged in battle against the Minbari's enemies. All part of that eventful life bit. This time, however, was a little bit different... "It's the Battle of the Line," he whispered. The Grey Council was standing in the Hall, yes, but around them, seemingly surrounding them, was the last stand of Earth. Not a mere tactical display, but a real, honest-to-God presentation of the battle. "They fight bravely," said one of them. "They cannot harm our ships, but they continue to try." Sheridan started. It was Delenn! The full Minbari Delenn, as she had been the first time he had seen her. Beside him, the half-human Delenn breathed in sharply. "Whether they fight or not, they know they will die anyway," said another of the Grey Council, whom Sheridan recognised as being the one who had stood over the bodies of his fellows at the Second Line. "So really, is this bravery, or simple desperation?" "Perhaps they are the same thing," replied Delenn. "This is the Line, isn't it?" Sheridan whispered. His Delenn nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I... can only conclude that we are visiting my memories. I do not even know if you are really here or not." "Don't you?" She smiled. "Yes, I think so, but what is happening... what exactly... I do not know." Sheridan turned back to the scene before him. "They don't seem to see us. Is this just a memory?" Her eyes betrayed the truth. She did not even need to say anything. Sheridan turned to Delenn, eyes wide. "This... this is the fall of Earth." "I am sorry, John," she whispered. "I am so sorry..." "We should bring one of them aboard for questioning," said the past- Delenn. "If our next step is the final assault on their world, we must know their defences." "Very well, Delenn," said the one who had spoken before. "Choose. But quickly. We are fast running out of candidates." Past-Delenn seemed to look out across the display for a while. There was a Starfury coming directly towards them, obviously on a ramming vector. "That one," she said. "Very well." An image appeared in the circle of light at the centre of the Nine. Sheridan started. It was Sinoval, dressed in black warrior garb rather than the grey robe of a Satai. Of course, this must have been before he was raised to the Council. "We have Earth in our sights," he reported. "The Trigati is behind their defences and those... satellites have been destroyed. Do we proceed with the orbital bombardment?" There was silence. The entire Council seemed to be hovering on the brink of a greater destiny than anything even they could imagine. One word, one simple word could have changed the fate of the galaxy and saved countless billions fro a horrible death. "My orders?" asked Sinoval. "Shai Alyt Branmer and the Dogati have destroyed the last capital ship remaining. At least one of them has fled. Their homeworld is within sight. What are our orders?" The Grey Council was silent, staring out across the skies. "Satai," barked Sinoval. "Shai Alyt Branmer may be willing to jump at your every beck and call, but I am not. I repeat. Their homeworld is in our sights. What are your orders?" Sheridan's eyes were rivetted on past-Delenn. He was trying to ignore Sinoval as much as possible. Past-Delenn seemed hesitant, but all the others were waiting for her. One of the other Satai threw back his hood, revealing a harsh, proud face, distinguished by a strangely human beard, neat and sharply pointed. "Destroy the planet, Sinoval. Begin orbital bombardment." The image of Sinoval bowed. "Yes, Satai Shakiri." "No!" snapped another Satai, an old, old man, with a fire which belied his fragile appearance. "Jenimer," whispered the Delenn by Sheridan's side. "I miss you, old friend." Jenimer looked around the circle. Shakiri was staring at him, the others were silent. Even past- Delenn was silent. "No," Jenimer repeated. "Remain in high orbit, and maintain combat readiness. We must be ready for an attack from behind." "Our defences are more than adequate to deal with any further threat these Earthers can throw at us," snapped Sinoval. "There is nothing to worry about..." "As there was nothing to worry about with the Black Star," muttered Jenimer. "Maintain readiness for any counterattack." Sinoval's image looked at Shakiri. The warrior Satai nodded once and Sinoval bowed. "At your command, Satai," he spat, venom in every syllable. "That one troubles me," remarked Jenimer absently. "There is too much pride in him." "And since when was pride a bad thing?" asked Shakiri. "He is intelligent, strong, talented... He will go far, I am sure of it." A white-robed acolyte appeared hesitantly and whispered something to past- Delenn. "The human is aboard," she announced to the Council. "Shall he be brought before us?" "No!" cried out the Delenn by Sheridan's side. "No, I am sorry, John. I cannot..." "What? Delenn, what is it?" "I..." Around them the image was fading, the past becoming as lost to them as the future. "I cannot." "That was the Battle of the Line. That was the destruction of Earth, wasn't it? I... I could have done something... intervened. I could have saved..." "No," she said. "That was a memory and nothing more. What is done is done, John, and there can be no returning to it." He was breathing hard. "I... God! Why couldn't I have been there? A day or two more, that's all it would have taken." "You would have done nothing, John, except be killed. We were all mad that day. I think... I think that was the day our madness should have stopped, but it did not. I... listened... I listened to warriors and to madmen and to voices I did not wish to hear. I listened and I was silent." "What are you saying? Delenn, you didn't order the attack on Earth. I saw it... it was that Shakiri... and... and Sinoval. You didn't say anything." "Yes, that is the point. I said nothing. Then. I could have ended it. With one word, I could have ended the entire war, but I did not. The others would have listened, even Shakiri would have listened, but I said nothing. Then." "Then? What - did you say something afterwards?" "After we had... brought the human aboard, we held a vote... on what to do. A number were undecided. The warriors were for the final assault. Jenimer, and Hedronn and a few others, were for occupation instead of destruction. I... I was silent. I needed to go away... to think... and I... I..." Sheridan's face had gone white. "What did you do?" "She ordered the annihilation of your planet, didn't you, Delenn?" "Huh?" Sheridan turned, hardly having noticed that yet another landscape had appeared around them. Delenn had been the only thing in his eyes. This was... a cell. Sheridan knew it well. It had been Delenn's cell on Proxima 3, where she had been interrogated by Mr. Welles, mentally violated by Lyta Alexander, and beaten by Boggs and Cutter. Except that none of them was here now. Instead, seated in the chair Mr. Welles had taken during his interrogation, was a human, tall and bald, dressed in flowing robes. His long fingers were steepled together in almost exactly the same fashion as Welles'. "Elric?" Delenn said softly. "What happened. Am I...?" "Dead? No. We found you in time, and we are enacting your transformation. We have managed to stabilise most of your body's systems and we are currently holding you in stasis. Your body is now malleable enough for us to change you in any way we choose. "There is, however, something else to consider first, which is why I have been projected in here. You have to want to come back." "Who the hell are you?" Sheridan asked. "What's going on here?" "I am immaterial to you at this moment. What you are doing here is another matter. I think I detect the smell of a Vorlon here, but far be it for me to cast aspersions on their good name." "Answer him," Delenn said, quietly, but with a force capable of destroying worlds. "Very well. I am Elric, a technomage, and master of those trying to save her life. I have arranged for her to see the memories of her past and the destiny of her future, so that she can determine whether she wishes to return to this world or not. I can mend flesh, yes, but not spirit. No one can do that, save her." "So what do you want from me?" she asked. "Do you want to come back? Do you have anything worth living for?" Delenn closed her eyes, remembering the sight of the dying Earth. But then she remembered another sight, of a devastated Minbar, and of John's grave... "Yes," she whispered. "I want to come back. I have made too many mistakes to let my life end here." "Experience is the name we give to our mistakes, or so it is said. Good. I would hazard a guess that you had something to do with that, Captain. There is just one more question for you. How do you wish us to remake you?" "What?" "We can change your flesh into anything we - or you - desire. We can return you to wholly Minbari, or to wholly human. Even to a Narn, Drazi or Pak'ma'ra if you choose." No hesitation, no doubt. Not this time. "I entered the chrysalis to become a bridge between two worlds. I will not have that bridge destroyed. Change me to what I would have become." "Half human and half Minbari?" "Yes." "With a stable biology, a mixture of both?" "Yes." "Delenn," Sheridan said. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, John," she replied. "I am. I... I have been living in the past for too long. I know that what I have done is dreadful... and I do not expect you to forgive me for it... but I must make amends. If I can save even one life more than I took, then maybe my own life will have meaning." "Delenn, you don't have to go off on some insane quest to save the universe! You said it yourself, what is done cannot be undone..." "And yet I must try." "Noble sentiments," said Elric. "You do realise that any hopes of your being a bridge between two peoples ended with Sinoval. You can never return to Minbar, never return to the Grey Council, never be what you were. I could make you entirely human." " I will always be Minbari," she proclaimed. "Whatever has been done to me. I... I am now also partly human. My... heart is human. Those two peoples will be joined, even if it takes my death, but especially if it takes my life." "Well. I think you have fulfilled your purpose here, Captain. I think it is time for you to go." "Wait!" Delenn cried, turning to Sheridan. "I... I miss you, John, but I cannot live my life around you." "I wouldn't want you to. Listen, I know I've been a bit of a jerk to you lately, but... I think I've thought it out. I can't live in the past any more either, and..." "Shush," she said. "We each have our own lives, and I know we will be brought together again. In time. Go on with your destiny, and I will with mine." "I... I don't know what to say." "Then say nothing." Almost without knowing what she was doing, she drifted closer towards him, and then her hands were on his waist. His, without him being sure of what he was doing either, were on her back. She tilted her head; he brought his down to her... This kiss was over almost before she knew it. She stepped back, and smiled, sweetly and sadly. "Valen walk with you, John," she said. "Yeah. You... you too." Delenn turned away, not wanting to see him leave. "Now," she said to Elric. "I am ready." * * * * * * * *There... Done.* *What is done?* *Her path is now assured. Her life is safe. His path is assured. His soul is safe. You have done well.* *And me? What about my life?* *Irrelevant. You have done well. Sleep now.* *Not without some answers! I want to know...* *SLEEP!* And Lyta Alexander slept. * * * * * * * The life of Londo Mollari had been not only eventful, but also bordering on the ridiculous. As a result, when a door opened from solid wall beside him through which walked a Hyach and a Minbari, he did not have an immediate heart attack but instead said simply, "So here you are. What kept you?" "The Drakh, if you must know," snapped Zicree. A Hyach, and a Hyach technomage at that. Therefore, a master of all things snooty. "Mr. Lennier!" Londo cried, turning to his companion. "I thought I had lost you." "Ah, no," Lennier said. Londo was a little preoccupied, and so didn't notice the vague stare in his friend's eyes. "I had to... hide. I couldn't really get... anywhere. I don't know. I can't really remember much." "Oh. Ah well, a good night's sleep and a stiff drin... I mean a bit of meditation, will soon sort that out." "Yes. I... hope so." Londo turned to Zicree. "What happened to him?" He was whispering, but he did not need to. Lennier could not have heard him in any case. "That is between him and me," Zicree said. "That is not your concern." "He is my friend. How does that make him not my concern?" Zicree said nothing, and Londo also fell silent. He was still vaguely watching Delenn's transformation, but his mind was not really on the scene before him. The Drakh were still preying on his mind. It was in the exact moment that he turned away that Delenn began to change, her infinity of reflections - now shining golden - transforming, as her old form was shed away, and a new one emerged. * * * * * * * Delenn's eyes opened... "John," she whispered. * * * * * * * "That was the most amazing thing I have ever... Mr. Lennier, did you see it? The way the crystal melted all around her, and then was sort of... absorbed into her. Incredible. I... Mr. Lennier?" "I am sorry. I am merely... tired." "Ah." Londo was silent for a moment. But only a moment. "Yes, I suppose that is... understandable. We have all had a very stressful few months." "And for some of us, Minister Mollari, the... stress is not over." "Ah, Mr. Elric! A pleasure as always. And a magnificent... ritual thing, if I may say so." Elric looked exhausted. He was limping heavily and his breath was audibly loud. Sweat was still drying on his forehead. "It worked. And just in time as well." "Delenn?" "Is resting. It will take her a short while to become used to her new body, but it will work for her just as well as her old one." "Good. Good. And..." Londo fell quiet again. "What about Vindrizi?" "His body is dead, but we managed to save his essence. Would you like to see him, Minister Mollari?" "I... suppose so. He was a good friend, and he... died... saving me." "Come with me." Londo followed Elric through the darkened chambers of this strange building. He marvelled at how different it appeared, just by virtue of those who dwelt in it. He could see technomages everywhere, and the fact that they were tired, they were limping, he had seen them die - none of that lessened his feelings of awe and respect. They wielded a power that few could ever dream of, and it changed them, irrevocably and permanently. None of them could ever be normal again. "Here it is," Elric said, holding up a transparent box. Inside it was... "Ugh!" Londo cried, stepping backwards. "What is that thing?" It looked like some kind of giant insect made out of goo. "That is Vindrizi. They really need hosts to be talkative. What is the matter, Minister Mollari? You look quite upset." "A... a bug. A cursed bug! Ugh! Oh, all right, Elric, you have had your little joke. We have done what you asked, and you have done what we asked. I think we will be on our way now, yes?" "Not quite. There is the matter of your gift, and your warning." "Oh... yes." The gift sounded interesting. The warning he could live without. He stepped back and turned round suddenly. "Where is Mr. Lennier?" "This is a private matter between you and me, Minister Mollari. By all means, share with the others if you wish, but that is your concern and not mine. Delenn has already received her gift, and will be given her warning in due time. As will Shaal Lennier. Which would you like first, Minister Mollari? Your gift or your warning." "Oh... my gift, I suppose. Get the best over with first." "Very well. Your gift, like all the best gifts, is information. Your people are in chaos, scattered, torn, teetering at the edge of the abyss, manipulated by forces inside and out. You would save them?" "Of course I would! What sort of question is that?" "You cannot do it. Not alone. Can you?" "No. That is why I allied myself with G'Kar. He has the resources to..." "He is already stretched beyond his limit. Only one person can save your people, and that is not you. There is one, is there not? One to whom all the nobles of the Court will listen? One with the strength and wisdom to guide your people through this dark time?" "Emperor Turhan is dead," snapped Londo. "And not even he could..." "Another. Malachi." "Prime Minister Malachi? He is dead too. He killed himself after Emperor Turhan died." "Are you sure? Are not you dead as well?" "Of course I am sure. I attended his funeral. I... his body." "What about it?" "A number of things. Little things, inexplicable at the time. It was... not his body." "That I do not know, but he is alive. Find him, and you can save your people." "Yes... why, that cunning old... Hah! And I know how to find him, as well! Oh thank you. I think you may just have saved my people." "That is not my concern. And now for your warning." "Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten about that." "Your death must occur as you have seen it. Sometimes the future can be changed. This is not one of those times. If you do not die as you have seen... then your people will fall into fire, and much more besides. I do not know the details, but you do." "I do?" "Whether you know that you know is another matter. Goodbye, Minister Mollari. I doubt we shall meet again." * * * * * * * "Shaal Lennier. I have a gift and a warning, as was promised." Zicree paused and looked at the young Minbari she had rescued. It was not her place to interfere in the war between Light and Darkness, but she suppressed a shudder. "The gift is something you may not think is a gift. You know what has happened to you. You know what has been done to you. You may even be able to control it. You are not a slave to Darkness. Not if you are strong enough. I think that you are. That knowledge, that strength is your gift. "What, did you think all gifts are tangible? "And your warning. I have seen your death, Shaal Lennier. It leads from what has happened to you here today. There are two choices for you the day before you will die. One will lead to your life, but your damnation. The other... you will die, but your death will have a greater meaning than you can know. "And, Shaal Lennier, if I thought there was any doubt about your decision, then I would kill you now. Do you understand?" "... No..." "You will. You will." * * * * * * * "How do you feel?" "Slightly... strange... This body... I think it will be a lot harder to get used to than the old one." "That is only to be expected," said Vejar. "It is... what is right for you, though." "I hope so." Vejar straightened and looked at the woman whose life he had helped save. "I am here to give you your warning, as we said. Do you remember?" "Yes... I think. So much of what has happened to me recently has been vague... unclear. No longer." "Good. We promised to you, Minister Mollari and Shaal Lennier, each a gift and a warning. These are given in secret, although if you wish to share what we tell you, then you may. "You have already received your gift. You have been changed. History has been returned to the correct path. And now for your warning..." Vejar was sweating, Delenn noticed, seeing more clearly now than she had for the past four months. How much of that was due to exhaustion from the ritual, and how much from... something else? "We were... reluctant to aid you at first. We always knew that you could be saved, the question was whether we should. The quest we sent you on... to find the Vindrizi... we could have done that at any time. We needed you to see something there. Did you?" "I..." Faint memories of Valen's spirit washing over her returned. "I think I did." "Well, whether you did or not does not matter, I suppose. You returned, and we have cured you. Your warning... the reason we were wary of aiding you... "At some point in the future, billions of lives will rest in your hand. The fate of thousands of planets will be yours to decide, and it will only take one push for you to make the wrong decision. After your... prior record, you can understand our doubts." "I will atone," she said in a hushed voice. Vejar was human. Elric was human. How had they felt when she had taken their homeworld from them? Were they still even human enough to care? "Perhaps you will, perhaps you will not. That will not matter either." He was trying to sound like Elric. Trying a little too hard. "We have done what we said, and we have gained what we needed. We will be leaving this place shortly, and thereafter its concerns will not be ours." "Wait!" Delenn said, sitting up. "You cannot abandon this place. You cannot abandon these people. What about the... Drakh..." She remembered them well enough. "You have great power. Should it not be used?" "This is not our war." "I am not thinking of fighting a war. I am thinking of saving lives." "And if the lives you save... if the people you save later become involved in the war, then are you not involved in the war? This is our struggle no longer." Delenn cocked her head slightly. "That is strange." "What is?" "You sound so much like your master, yet I do not think you truly believe in what you are saying." Vejar hesitated for a minute, as if he were about to say something. Then he blinked and walked away. "Believe what you wish," he said harshly, and then he was gone from view. Delenn returned to sleep, although not easily. * * * * * * * I still don't know what that was. I wish I did. Lyta... well, she's not saying anything. I'd be surprised if she knows. Was it even real, or just a dream? Was that even you, Delenn? You helped me before. I can no longer imagine my world without you in it. Yes, I'm afraid, afraid of being without you. But you're right, for the moment our lives run in different directions. Sleep peacefully, Delenn. I miss you. Next: The Long Fight (4 parts). Humanity begins its long-planned counterstrike against the Minbari, but this time they are far from alone. As Kalain builds a new Grey Council, he finds that his concerns for his people are very different from those of his predecessor, who in turn is finding that his quest for Valen is leading him to some very strange places. This time, Sinoval makes for the Soul Hunters, to make them a proposition they cannot refuse. And on Kazomi 7, Delenn forges her own little haven of Light, which is threatened to be swamped by a tide of Darkness... Coming soon.