"I see. I have received a full report from General Ryan, who has described your behaviour as…. 'erratic' prior to the beginning of the battle, but he comments on your bravery and courage in forming a rearguard to allow General Ryan, the Morningstar and the Marten to escape once it became clear that all was lost.
"I have very little doubt that you are a good soldier, Captain Smith, and you are clearly a brave man. Your decorations declare as much." The President looked directly into Smith's eyes, and sighed. "However, there has been a great deal of…. controversy surrounding you and the Babylon. Numerous minor faults and damage, the mysterious engagement at Beta Durani last year, and of course the presence of a dangerous saboteur among your bridge crew, a saboteur who subsequently escaped from confinement in this very building."
Mr. Welles looked less than pleased at this.
"However, very little blame for this can be attached to you, Captain. In retrospect, making the Babylon our flagship was a mistake on my part. I had hoped that it would have positive connotations for the public, and serve as a useful rallying point. In doing so, I overlooked the fact that it is an old ship, and too closely associated with the…. famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Captain Sheridan. Expecting you to take over his position was too great a burden for any man.
"You are not to be court-martialled, or called to account for any of your errors of judgment, Captain Smith. Many…. strange decisions can be made in the heat of battle. You will be honourably discharged with full rights and pension. You have been a good and loyal servant of humanity in this difficult time, Captain, and all humanity owes you great gratitude.
"You are dismissed, Mr. Smith."
* * *
Faith manages.
Delenn had always believed that, and she had faith. But as she went to keep her appointment she was wondering just to what extent her faith was helping her here.
Ambassador David Sheridan had been on Kazomi 7 for over two weeks now, and some preliminary deals had been agreed. A prisoner exchange had been the most concrete evidence that he meant what he said, and the establishment of trade pacts between the Alliance and Proxima 3 seemed promising, but the larger issues were only now being dealt with.
What did the Shadows want? Could there really be peace? She wanted to believe it, but everything she had been taught, by Kosh, by Dukhat, everything she had seen with her own eyes at Proxima, at Minbar, at Epsilon 3…. all those things argued against it.
But to hope, perchance to dream…. Lethke had been right. Peace would be a truly great thing, if it were possible.
But she was still worried as she entered Ambassador Sheridan's personal quarters, the base of the delegation.
He was seated at a desk, looking over various documents. He looked up as she entered, and for one brief moment she saw in his eyes the same light that burned in John's, and she was troubled. John had rarely spoken of his family to her, and she did not even know his father's name, but there were similarities — in expression, tone of voice, posture; little things that came and went, and that she only just caught.
"Ah, Madam President. Come in. Thank you for coming. Please, sit down. Would you like something to drink?"
"No, thank you," she said, sitting down across from him. "My title is not President, by the way."
"Of course not," he said smiling slightly, as if at a private joke. "Forgive an old diplomat for being a little…. set in his ways. I'm not used to people in positions of authority such as yours…. not having a title. It makes those moments of formality a little easier, doesn't it? What is your proper title, then?"
"I have never needed one. My name is Delenn, Ambassador. You may use that if you wish."
"No, I don't think so," he said, and then he paused, shaking his head. "That would…. hardly be appropriate."
"Why did you request this meeting, Ambassador?" she asked, feeling ill-at-ease. The room…. seemed far darker than would normally be the case. Oh, on the surface it was little different from any of the other diplomatic quarters in the building: comfortable enough, large enough for an Ambassador and his staff. But there was something just below the surface. A hint of darkness, of corruption.
Or was it just her imagination?
"I…. ah…. wanted to present a proposal to you, and to show you something. You in particular, partly because you're the leader and the focus here, but also because…. of who you are. You're Minbari, the only Minbari on the Council here, and as yet I believe Primarch Sinoval has not deigned to provide an Ambassador here."
"Primarch Sinoval…. has his own concerns."
"Yes, I believe he does, but…. that's a matter for another day. Of all the races currently alive and active…. Of all the younger races, I meant to say, the Minbari have had the most contact with us. You are the only one of the younger races still in a position of power after fighting in the…. troubles a thousand years ago. The Ikarrans and the Markab are all dead…. the other races, such as the Tak'cha, have…. faded away somewhat.
"But the Minbari…. they are still…. not as powerful as they were, but they still have influence. You have influence, particularly here."
"I do not represent my people here in any way at all," she replied, with just a hint of anger. "I speak for the Alliance, not for the Minbari."
"Of course. And that is why I asked you here. You…. the Minbari I mean, have long had contact with the Vorlons. You have been…. indoctrinated, shall we say? Indoctrinated with their belief system.
"I invite you to come to Z'ha'dum and see things from our perspective."
Delenn rose to her feet and made for the door. "I am no fool, Ambassador. I recognise a trap when I see one."
"No trap, just a genuine offer…. such as one diplomat makes to another."
"If matters proceed well, then we might consider placing an Ambassador from the Alliance to…. Z'ha'dum, or to Proxima Three…. but I will not go there."
"Ah, but such a person would not be Minbari, you see. Whatever we say here, you will never be able to overcome a thousand years of Vorlon influence. Come to Z'ha'dum…. and we can show you."
"No."
"Even now you are succumbing to their brainwashing. The Vorlons are not your friends, Delenn! They are far more your enemy than we could ever be."
She ignored him, and continued towards the door.
"Well, then…. before you leave, there are two other concerns. One involves a certain…. Captain John Sheridan." She spun on her heel and turned back to face him. "He is in a critical condition, I understand. The Shadows, as you call them…. they have great expertise in biogenics. They can cure him. He can come with you to Z'ha'dum…. and be cured."
"And what would be the price of this cure?" she asked, her voice hollow.
"He is my son," the Shadow Ambassador said simply. "He belongs with me, and with his people. Bring him to Z'ha'dum…. and he will be cured. He will be alive. You claim to love him…."
"I do love him!"
"You claim to love him," he continued, as if she had not spoken. "If you do, surely you can see that this is an opportunity for him to live. Can you risk that simply because you have been so much influenced by the Vorlons? Can you let them kill my son?"
"I love John more than anything," she whispered. "But…. I was told that the cure you possess…. it would mean he would be enslaved to the Shadows…. forever."
"You've been listening to the Vorlons for too long. We don't want slaves."
"Then what do you want?"
"Come to Z'ha'dum and all will be explained."
Slowly blinking away her tears, she turned and left.
He waited until the door was closed, and then sighed. A figure appeared from the next room and walked over to the human still sitting at the desk. "Well," Sheridan asked, "what did you think?"
"She is…. different," came the halting reply. "She has changed a great deal."
"The entire galaxy has changed since you last met her. Will she listen if we tell her what we have told you?"
"I…. don't know. Possibly. Possibly not."
"Well…. there's nothing more I can do about it. Damn her stubbornness!"
"Being stubborn is her prerogative."
He said nothing. He was thinking about his son…. He wanted John to recover, but that could not happen unless Delenn changed her mind and came to Z'ha'dum. They had made that perfectly clear. He had tried pleading with them, but to no avail.
Either she came to Z'ha'dum…. or John would die.
His life in the hands of the Minbari who had ruined him. An altogether unpleasant thought.
* * *
The bargain had been made, and the agreement had been carried out. The past was now dead, and the future…. that began now.
Secure and safe within the bowels of its ship, a being as old as it was, the being who sometimes thought of its name as being Ulkesh pondered its situation. This moment had been planned for a long time, long even by the standards of the Vorlons. Victory at last was within reach.
And it would begin here. A place with the unpleasant name of Kazomi 7. A place where an alliance of races had been formed, haphazardly, by the merest chance, without rhyme or reason, simply rising awkwardly from the happenstance of history and the whims of the Enemy.
It was here now, and it would create order from the chaos. It would bring about the future, and the ultimate victory. A thousand years ago they had failed, due to the weaknesses of certain members of their race. They had had a chance for absolute victory, and it had slipped from them. That would not be so this time.
The Enemy were here already. That did not matter. That was irrelevant. They would fail. They would be defeated and destroyed, and all trace of them wiped from the galaxy.
The Vorlon cruiser emerged into the skies above Kazomi 7, and at that exact moment, across the planet, certain people noticed. Delenn of Mir sat up in her chair by the bed of the unconscious John Sheridan, who moaned in his delirious sleep. Ambassador David Sheridan swore loudly, but accepted that he had gained more time than might have been expected.
And Lyta Alexander started, her eyes glowing with an immortal light, as she awaited the arrival of the one she would have to follow.
* * *
"So, Mr. Morden, what have you been up to since our last meeting? A fair few months ago, was it not?"
Londo slowly poured a drink of brivare for himself, and held the container up towards Morden as an offer. With a shake of his head, the human refused. Londo nodded, and walked back to his seat.
"It's been over a year and a half by my calender, Emperor Mollari. I've been…. busy. Business here and there. You know how it is. I had a fair amount of meetings and arrangements on Proxima. I spent some months as a…. guest of Primarch Sinoval and his charming people. Exquisite hospitality there, let me assure you. Anyway, I heard of your recent…. troubles here and thought it prudent to come and offer my assistance."
"We could do with some, let me tell you. But…. to be honest, Mr. Morden?"
