"I can't get over just how…. familiar it looks."
"I had access to the original plans in the Machine. Everything was copied as closely as possible. Allies of mine in your Government helped with some of the materials."
Sheridan started at the mention of human allies, but he did not ask. G'Kar had his secrets, and he knew a great deal more than he was telling anyone. Necessary, Sheridan supposed, but awfully risky as well.
"Anyway…. I have a request for you."
"You wish to return to Kazomi Seven?" G'Kar said, and he smiled as Sheridan started. "It is not that difficult to notice. I swear I may be turning into a Centauri, may G'Quan save me from that fate! It is dangerous here. We are not…. well defended. Some of my Narn ships are here, it is true, but Captain Mollari has returned to his homeworld."
Sheridan started. He had known Carn…. a little. "He was a good captain. We'll miss him."
"I hope it is only temporary, but there is great upheaval on Centauri Prime. Probably little more than politicking, but I cannot be sure. Even if it is merely what the Centauri call 'the Great Game', it is still a great risk. I have heard little from my agents there for some time. I am troubled." He shook his head sadly.
"No, Captain, you may return to Kazomi Seven. We have enough ships here to protect this station for the time being, and hopefully the day will come soon when the Alliance will be moved here. Besides, dark days are coming, and love must be allowed to shine in what little time we have. Bester will not be pleased, no doubt, but he still has Captain Ben Zayn and the Ozymandias, so he can survive. And he understands the importance of defending the new Alliance just as we do."
Sheridan shrugged. He did not like the idea of G'Kar allied with someone like Bester, but war made for strange bedfellows, as the saying went.
"Thank you, G'Kar. With your permission, we will leave tomorrow. Some of my crew are engaged in various duties around here."
"Ah yes. Thank Lieutenant Connally for me. My people are not used to flying in your Starfuries, but they are superior to our own flyers — may G'Quan blacken my tongue for saying so — and the bays here were designed for Starfuries. Her training is invaluable."
"A question…. why did you build the Starfury bays? Wouldn't designs for your own flyers be easier?"
"We cannot defy history, Captain. I pray you are not needed here for a while at least."
"So do I," Sheridan agreed. He reached out to touch the wall at his side, half afraid that it would disappear at his touch.
"So do I," he repeated softly, his heart many light years away.
"One…. last question," G'Kar said softly. "Has any of your crew experienced…. anything…. unusual?"
"Unusual? No, not that I'm aware of. I suppose David might know before I would, but…. no, I can't think of anything. Why?"
G'Kar waved an arm in negation. "Nothing. Just…. ghosts in the machine, so to say. Nothing serious."
"If you say so." Sheridan did not believe him.
* * *
They listened to him, unable to do anything else. Not just Minbari, but everyone there. Drazi guards, Brakiri clerks, Hyach customs officials. Even Taan Churok listened, an almost rapt expression on his face. Delenn was unable to tear herself away from the beauty and power of his words.
Even Delenn, who knew the truth about the one they knew as Valen, even she was helpless before the power of his oratory. His words fired and enraptured, captivated and liberated. They were the golden rain on the green fields, the silver skies, the shining stars at twilight.
And finally, the speech done, he bowed gently and walked out among his people, receiving the comforts of their touch, their prayers, and their blessings. All accepted beyond doubt that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, as indeed he was. Or, more accurately, as he would be a thousand years in the past.
It was his presence here which had done so much to bring Minbari attention to the United Alliance, even led as it was by an outcast such as Delenn.
"Pretty words," grunted Taan Churok. He sounded moved. Anyone would be, even a Drazi. He shook his head, as if attempting to rid himself of an annoying insect buzzing around him.
"Words from old," Delenn agreed softly. She could not remember the bulk of his speech — she doubted anyone could; it was the words, not the meaning which mattered — but she had recognised faint traces. This line, from the 'Times to Come' speech on Mount H'leya — that image from the triumphant arrival at Z'ha'dum — a metaphor first spoken at the first assembly of the Grey Council. Jeffrey Sinclair possessed all the memories of the Valen he would become, a thousand years before. They had been implanted into him by the Vorlons, erasing in the process almost everything that had made him Jeffrey Sinclair.
She looked at him, basking in the adulation of his people, and reflecting that adulation back to them. He was so beautiful….
Her personal communicator beeped and she picked it up, somewhat awkwardly, from her side. A Centauri instrument, bought and modified by the Brakiri. Such a device felt…. alien to her, but she accepted it.
It was Lethke, former head of the Brakiri Trading Guild here on Kazomi 7, and now Minister for the Economy.
"Delenn," he said, his flawless politeness the result of both years of diplomatic experience and a genuine liking for Delenn, "we have received the documentation from Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar of which you wished to be kept informed. It contains the details of the Babylon Four station he has built, as well as certain…. confidential matters to be shown only to you."
She sighed softly. "Of course, Lethke. Thank you for informing me. I will be with you in a moment." A tremor passed through her, a memory of the past, and the not-too-distant future.
She looked at Taan Churok, and then at Valen, and sighed softly as she left the presence of the most beautiful spirit she had ever known, to dwell on what his — and her — future might be.
* * *
Catherine was in a strange mood for the rest of the day, not altogether surprisingly. Her ambiguous meeting had raised more questions than it had answered concerning the G'Kar mystery, and the fact that she had been ordered to forget all about this only puzzled her the more. The order to prepare the report which had led to her discovery of the G'Kar Files had come from Zento's own office.
An hour or so after her return from the 'meeting' two men she did not recognise but with appropriate IDs had taken all her copies of her unfinished report. She had spent the rest of the day in a fugue, working idly at various sundry items she had neglected during the investigation of the G'Kar problem.
For the first time in months she had left work on time. She made her way home, her mind still engulfed by the events of the day. Nothing about this made any sense. Nothing.
The hovertransports were busier than she remembered, and being surrounded by the chatter and bustle only deepened her dark mood. Far too many of the conversations were about war. With the Minbari crushed, where now? Some people seemed to think the Narns, or perhaps the Centauri. Maybe even a few of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The economy was on an upswing at last and a continuing war was thought to be the means to keep it that way.
She arrived home almost without realising it, her feet taking her to the door of her apartment on autopilot. As she stepped inside, she heard the sound of the news reports from the vidscreen and realised Dan must be home.
Sure enough he was, lounging in front of the vidscreen. Catherine caught a snatch of the report — "…. for a quick summary of the news today. Rumours from the Resistance Government suggest that President Clark may be considering relaxing some of the Wartime Emergency Measures which have been in force for the past thirteen years. Foremost among the initiatives are believed to be reductions in rationing, and the repeal of certain interstellar travel restrictions.
"Also, the new Warlock class vessel the Marten has been officially launched today. Captain Walker Smith commented only — 'It's a fine ship, with a fine crew. We're going to do well.'
"And finally, the memorial service for former President Marie Crane was held today. She was President of the Resistance Government for eight years, retiring due to ill-health last January. She never recovered from the multiple ailments attributed to the stress of her time in office. President Clark praised her sacrifice and promised to continue in her memory…."
Dan suddenly noticed Catherine's arrival and switched off the screen. "Hi," he said, looking puzzled. "You're early. Cracked that big mystery you were on about?"
Catherine sighed. "That's…. one way to put it." She sank down on to the chair next to him and let him wrap his arm around her. "It's been a…. weird day."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Ah…. maybe when I've got it sorted out in my head. How's your research going?"
He grimaced. Dan Randall had once been an investigative journalist. Quite a famous one, too. But after a particularly…. unpleasant report had aired about the way human miners were being treated on the Narn-run colony of Vega 7, the furious Kha'Ri had been on the verge of having him executed. In an effort to stave off an incident, ISN had fired him. He now worked as a freelance researcher for various companies, currently compiling statistics for the Department of Public Information.
"Ah, you caught me," he confessed, a guilty smile on his face. "I've been lounging around watching the sports all day." Catherine sighed, and shook her head. The first football tournament since the beginning of the war was being aired, and some of the teams were discovering certain…. intriguing possibilities with the Proxima gravity.
"Comes of not having you around to bully me into working."
"I'll bet," she smiled.
"How's about I make you some re-caff and you can persuade me to get some work done."
"That would be perfect."
As he went to the kitchen, Catherine found her mind coming back again to the mystery surrounding her. She had not spoken to Dan about it before — and her gentle questions by way of research had been carefully chosen to elicit as few suspicions as possible. Of course Dan was always suspicious, but Catherine had tried to make her questions seem routine. Sharing classified IPX information with unauthorised personnel would lead to major trouble, but it was getting to the stage where her curiosity was outweighing her good sense.
Besides, it wasn't IPX business any longer. Just…. personal interest. Right?
"Dan," she called into the kitchen. "What do you know about a Narn called G'Kar?"
"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar?" he called back. Catherine, faintly recognising the term for a Narn preacher, shouted back in the affirmative. "Not as much as I'd like," came the reply. "Once a big fellow in the Kha'Ri. Disappeared on some sort of personal mission some years ago. Still got his fingers in a number of pies, though. Why the interest?"
"Would he have any connection with…. with IPX, at all?"
"Certainly possible. If any Narn would have, it'd be him. He's not quite as xenophobic as some of his fellows. He's got an aide of some sort who comes here from time to time. I'll remember his name in a minute."
