"This station was built to go backwards in time a thousand years, and serve a vital role in the last war against the Darkness."
Some of those present knew that already, but a great many did not. Lethke and Taan Churok in particular looked astonished. "You will…. forgive us…." Lethke said, "But that sounds a little…. uh…. hard to believe."
"It is true," Delenn said. "This station…. this very station was used by Valen a thousand years ago. It was in the archives of the Grey Council, information known only to us. No one knew where the station had come from or how it had got there…. until now."
"Two years ago, we saw this station going back in time," spoke up Sheridan. "It's true."
"Then if that was this place's intended purpose, why not send it back immediately on construction?" asked Taan Churok. "Why build a command station if it's going to have to be…. hah, sent back in time?"
"It was hoped that we would be able to take advantage of the station for the duration of this war," Ta'Lon explained. "We did not have the resources to build two stations, and so we…. risked a great deal. But at the time we planned this there was no sign of Valen, who would take the station back. How were we to know that he would appear on Minbar?"
"So what is the problem?" asked Lethke. "The station is secure. I will admit we could use some extra defences, but a quick message to Kazomi Seven will solve that."
"Problem?" barked Zathras. Lethke looked at the strange creature with a hint of surprise and a lot of condescension. "Problem. Zathras tell you where problem is. Problem is that great Darkness will be coming here. Soon. Now. If Enemy destroys station now, it will never go back, if station never goes back, goodness loses the war then, and…. big temporal paradoxes. All reality be rearranged. Very bad."
"Weakness!" snapped Taan Churok. "If these Shadows come, then we will fight them."
"Drazi, yes," noted Zathras. "Skulls block out brains. Very sad. Poor design. Listen, Machine is damaged. Bad woman did bad things to it. Opening temporal rift needs…. much energy. Very difficult. Some alignments need correcting, much machinery needs to be repaired. Machine may not be powerful enough after bad things done. Very unstable. What will happen later…. Zathras cannot say, but Zathras not like to think. Could be very bad."
"What he means," said Ta'Lon, noting bafflement on the faces of the Drazi and the Brakiri, "is that the Machine is growing very unstable at the moment. The forced rejection of Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar…. the weapons raised against us here…. the death of its previous host…. We cannot be sure if the Machine will be able to maintain its integrity for much longer. If we are to send Babylon Four back into the past it will have to be done now, or we risk losing the chance for a long time to come."
"When can we…. manage this feat?" asked Lethke. He looked at Zathras.
"Ah, G'Kar being very clever, yes. Temporal rift already open. A little. Important machinery already attached to station. Very clever indeed. But…. temporal rift now a little…. out of synch. Need to be realigned. Mr. Garibaldi doing that, yes. Zathras will soon attend to finishing off work there. Zathras be good at doing that.
"Zathras think…. couple of days. Besides, be not forgetting one thing…. we need Valen as well. Is being no point sending station back without sending Minbari back with it. That be very foolish."
Lethke suddenly seemed to realise something. "This…. temporal rift is already open?"
"In part, yes. Very clever of G'Kar, as Zathras said."
"Then is that what has caused all the…. unexplained events here? Dreams, strange voices from nowhere, visions of things in the past, in the future?"
"Ah. Yes, is possibility." Zathras paused, deep in thought. "That is not so clever." None of them noticed the frantic look Sheridan gave Delenn, a brief remembrance of a dream long past.
"Perhaps we should discuss this with the rest of the Council," Lethke said. "This sounds…. um…."
"No," Delenn said firmly. "We will do as Zathras has said. We must. We will send a message to Kazomi Seven, asking for every ship that can be spared to help defend this place while the damage is repaired. We…. will also need Valen. It is vitally important that our defence is secure until both the station and Valen have gone back in time."
"As you say," Lethke said, nodding. "How much time are we likely to have until the…. Shadows arrive?"
"Maybe none at all," replied Delenn, and they all fell silent.
* * *
The fires had at last stopped burning in the capital city of Centauri Prime. The night of madness had receded, leaving the survivors to count the cost, to try to rebuild, to mourn loved ones lost, to take stock of what had happened.
"A hasty Court session has been called," reported the agent. "First Minister Malachi has apparently been invited, but is too ill to attend. Rumours have it Lord Jarno is to be arrested on charges of treason. It is said that he personally attacked and murdered Lord Kiro last night."
"Lord Kiro?" barked Lord Valo. "Well, who'd have thought that coward Jarno had it in him? Won't do him any good of course. What else?"
"Something is happening in the southern territories. Reports are unclear at best, but from the sound of it Sphodria and Gallia have been overwhelmed by an outside force. Some say Narn sympathisers. My best guess is soldiers loyal to Governor Mollari."
"Governor? Another weakling, far too many of them. Still…. I heard he had Marrago on his side. Anything on that?"
The agent shrugged. "Rumour does suggest that, but then rumour has placed him almost everywhere in the galaxy since Quadrant Thirty-seven was lost. Some say he's living on the Narn homeworld right now. We haven't been able to get accurate information out of Selini for months. One thing I do know is that Minister Durano was there, which…. might explain that."
"The military?"
"The frontier regiments are still patrolling the border, although skirmishes with the Narns have been rare lately. They will follow whoever sits on the throne, although a few of the captains have expressed…. concerns about the current leadership, and would not be averse to a change. Several ships have disappeared and there has been a big increase in the number in orbit around Centauri Prime itself, although no one has admitted to ordering this. There has still been no official appointment of a new Lord-General."
One question left, the important one, the one which would decide the future of the Republic. "Do we have enough guards on our side to mount an assault on the Court?"
"Yes. We do."
"Thank you. Go." The spy nodded, bowed and left. An invaluable find, one of Durano's proteges, he had recognised the need for strength and order in the Court, and had chosen to throw his hand in with Valo. A wise choice. Valo was one of the few nobles in the Court who had seen real combat, who knew how to lead, how to fight, how to be strong.
A military coup. That was what was needed. Jarno had had the right idea, unusually for him, and so had Kiro, but they were all feinting around the sidelines, striking at each other. If any of them had had half the military mind Valo had, they would have known that the way to win any battle was to go for the head, and where was the head? The Court itself.
"You heard all that?" Valo asked. His companion stepped out from hiding and nodded.
"What do you think? What is your uncle up to?"
"I have no idea," replied Carn Mollari. "I haven't spoken to him in years."
"Well, we'll soon find out. A few days at most, and then we'll make a stab at the Court. Once we control it, the rest of the military and the Guards will fall in with us. It'll all be over, Carn."
Carn smiled, and nodded. "Indeed it will…. Majesty."
* * *
Delenn hesitated as she looked at the quiet form seated before her. She was not entirely sure why she had come here, but she did know that words needed to be said, and that she was the person to say them.
"It is strange how things can change in a handful of hours," she said, and noticed Captain Smith start, raising his head to look at her.
"Yeah. 'Let no man be called happy or great until he be dead,' hmm?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Something someone said a long time ago. It doesn't matter. So, have you decided what to do with me? Sheridan promised an amnesty for my crew, remember."
"Yes, he told me…. and that amnesty has been accepted. Some of the alliance were…. unappreciative, but we convinced them. Your crew will be permitted to return home as soon as the current crisis is over."
"Well, that's something. Thank you. I…. wait…. what current crisis?"
"A…. topic for another day, I believe. Tell me, Captain, why did you offer yourself as compensation for your crew?"
"There's no reason why they should pay for my mistakes. Besides, I could hardly return home. Do your people have a word for scapegoat?"
"I…. am familiar with the term, yes. I have been used in that position myself. Your people would do the same to me if they could. No matter what either of us may feel, Captain…. my death would not undo what has been done."
"Nor will mine, but I'm willing to give it a try anyway. Tell me, what are you going to do with me?"
"Some people wanted you dead, yes…. but I have had another idea. I am going to make you an offer, Captain. A chance to buy your freedom. And your life.
"How would you like to fight alongside us?"
He laughed.
* * *
Lord-General Marrago knew all about responsibility. He had been born to it, trained almost from birth to the duties that were his heritage as a member of a noble line. He had learned the hard way about the responsibilities he owed to the soldiers who served alongside him and under him. He knew about his duties to his family, and to his family name. He knew about the bonds of loyalty to old friends — one had compelled him to marry a woman he did not love, and another had forced him to raise arms against his own Government.
But as he sat alone in a room stinking of blood, he pondered on his responsibilities to his people, his planet, his friends…. They had never seemed heavier.
He had just received word that Londo was missing somewhere in the capital. None of Durano's agents could find him, or indeed find any trace that he had even arrived.
This had always been a possibility. In a war fought primarily by poison in the wine cup or knife in the dark, Londo had always been aware that he might be lost before the capital and the Court could be taken, and he had planned accordingly. Marrago knew enough of his plans to continue and conclude this campaign. He might even be capable of becoming Emperor himself, although he had no wish to be so.
He looked around the room that had once been the study of the Governor of Gallia, a room where several of his servants and family had been butchered by a blood-crazed mob who had carried the terrified Governor away…. Marrago had had the bodies removed, but he could do nothing about the smell. He was a soldier. Death was a constant companion.
He was thinking about death as well as responsibility. Londo's death and his responsibility to him. Marrago had had to tell a great many people that those they loved would never be coming home, but it would be so much harder this time. How to tell Timov?
