"I…. I…."
"Let her go," said Zathras, his face very serious. "She will be fine."
"Damn," he whispered. "Fine, go on, Catherine. But come back."
"Of course I will."
"Ta'Lon, can you spare any men to escort Catherine and Zathras to the docking bays? We need to get them there as soon as possible."
"I will see what…." The door to the command centre suddenly opened and two Narns ran in. Both were bleeding heavily. "They're coming. We can't hold them any longer."
"I will have to escort all of you," Ta'Lon said seriously. "We must hurry."
A few minutes later Susan Ivanova walked into the empty room and looked around. They'd gone. Oh well, it didn't matter. They couldn't hide forever. "What do I do now?" she asked.
They told her.
* * *
Londo knew that something was wrong. He knew the palace compound as well as any place he had ever been. Most of his life had been spent here: as a young idealist, as a cynical hardened politician, as one of the most prominent figures in the Government, and now as a prisoner.
But in all that time, he had never known the Court like this.
From his cell he could not hear the screams of panic or the terrified pleas or the cries of the wounded, but he could feel the death hanging in the air.
"Great Maker," he whispered to himself. "What has happened out there?"
He was tired of pacing up and down the cell. He was tired of staring at the walls, or the door, or the window. He was tired of reliving that terrible vision of the war in the heavens. He was tired of being a prisoner here!
"How is it going, I wonder?" He preferred talking to himself. The sound of his voice eased the anger he felt, although not by much. "Marrago, and Durano, and Timov…. ah…. I have faith in you all. Yes. You will do well, I am…."
He paused and turned, just as the door to his cell opened. A bright light filled the room, and he winced. "If this is my lunch, you are very late," he snapped, trying to suppress a surge of fear. What if he was to be taken to see that…. vision again? What if…?
"Minister Mollari," said a familiar voice. "Come quick. We do not have much time."
"Lennier! Ah, Great Maker, I could kiss you!" He rushed to the doorway of light and crossed the threshold into the corridor.
"That will…. not be necessary. But I thank you for the offer all the same. We should hurry now. I…. believe something unpleasant is happening at the Court."
"Yes, I can feel it. How did you escape, anyway?"
"I was…. freed. By Prince Cartagia."
"What? I do not like the sound of that. No, I do not like the sound of that at all. Why would he do such a thing?"
"I…. do not know." Londo looked at his friend. The Minbari was lying. Oh, it was well known that Minbari did not lie, but Londo was a career politician, and he knew a falsehood when he heard one. Still, he decided to keep quiet. Lennier had his reasons, and it was unthinkable that he was working for…. them.
"Well then, we had better get out of here, and quickly, as you said. We…." He looked around. "Where are all the guards? This is a high-security prison. They should be all over the place."
"I have not seen any since I was freed. Perhaps they have been called away?"
"Cartagia again? Or something else? Well, we shall have to see. Anyway, we have a brief opportunity here, and we should not waste it. Come on, my friend. I know where to go."
"To the spaceport, hopefully. Or perhaps to some allies or agents you may have in the city?"
"No. To see Malachi. He will be at the Court, and I have to see him. I have to know…. I just have to know."
"And…. it will undoubtedly do no good to point out that it was this need to know that put us both here in the first place?"
"He is my friend, Lennier. And he is a good man. A very good man. He would not do something like this unless he had a very good reason. I need to know."
"Ah, well then. You will lead, and I will follow."
"Good."
* * *
A flash of light, a scream of agony in the mind.
The Parmenion shook with the impact, redirecting its broadsides to the monsters before it. The Shadow ship recoiled, spinning backwards, but recovered effortlessly.
"We're losing hull integrity, Captain," said Commander Corwin. He was thinking about Mary. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to ask her….
"And the jump engines are down, possibly permanently. Normal engines at little better than forty percent capacity, and we're going to lose rotation any minute now."
Captain John Sheridan, the legendary Starkiller, was thinking about dying….
* * *
"I can't hold it any more!"
* * *
"I can't explain it…. but they don't seem to be targeting us. They're going for the other ships, but they've been going straight past us."
Captain Dexter Smith frowned. "There could be any number of explanations, Lieutenant Franklin. We don't have time to consider this now."
"Captain, what are we doing here?" asked a new voice. "These…. aliens are our allies. Why are we fighting them, alongside our enemies?"
"I made a promise, Mr. Ericsson." Smith looked at his Chief of Security, and couldn't disagree with the truth of his words. What was he supposed to say? That he had been told a lot of gibberish about the future, and the past, and a legendary Minbari God? He was not sure he believed it himself. He just knew that fighting here was something he had to do.
"I assure you, Mr. Ericsson, that this is for the best. I promise you that you and all the crew will be permitted to return to Proxima once this battle is over, and I further assure you that I personally will take all responsibility for this action."
"If you say so, sir." Ericsson did not look convinced.
"Captain," spoke up Franklin, "the Parmenion is in big trouble. They may be going down."
Sheridan's ship. Smith thought for a fraction of a second, and then gave his order. "Bring us around to support them. At their flank."
"But, Captain…."
"Do it!"
"Yes, sir."
* * *
The Machine was in pain. It did not want to hate its bearer. It wanted to love all who possessed it. It had a function, a duty, a sentience almost, and it wanted to guide its bearers to fulfill that duty.
And yet it had been abused and violated. It had been used to kill, and its magnificent beauty had been tainted by the mind of a madwoman, a murderer, a monster.
And now its current bearer, its third in as many days. It can feel his doubts, it can see his self-hatred, his self-destruction. What remains of Donne within it is happy.
He will not be able to control it. His doubts are killing him. He came here to escape them.
Michael Garibaldi screamed, his heart almost wrenched from his chest. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, and his head slumped. He hung limp in the Heart of the Machine.
The Narn bodyguards set to watch over him ran forward, knowing they had a duty, a duty greater than their lives, a duty to see that the rift remained open, and that Babylon 4 returned to its destined past.
The floor became a carpet of electricity, and in the space of a few seconds they all died.
The cavern became to crumble, the planet began to shake, and the Machine began to seek solace in oblivion.
* * *
The temporal rift shook.
* * *
Cartagia drifted through the Court like a ghost on glass. No one seemed to notice his presence there, and he did nothing to alert them. He watched as guards fought and killed each other. He smiled slyly as he looked at the bodies of nobles he had known since birth. A true house-cleaning, all very necessary. It should have been done a long time ago, and perhaps if it had the Republic would not be in this state. That was the Court for you…. never could do anything right.
He could not see Elrisia, but he was not particularly looking for her. If she survived this it would suit his plans perfectly. If she didn't, he did not care. Malachi was the important one, but then Valo would see that as well. Should he trust Valo to do the right thing, and kill Malachi? Rely on Valo's intelligence? Hmm…. better not.
He began making for Malachi's quarters, casually stepping over the bodies as he did so. From the sound of it the fighting had drifted over to the far end of the palace. He wondered who was winning, but then realised he really didn't care. It would all be the same in a few years.
He turned the corner and came face to face with none other than Valo himself. Malachi was lying on the floor, covered with blood. He reached feebly out to Cartagia, who glanced away.
"You," Valo snapped. "Well well well."
"Lord Valo. A great pleasure. So nice to see you again, but I had heard you'd been killed."
"Aristocratic bastard. I should have…."
"Should have what? You're a fool, Valo, and you'll be dead before the century is out. So will all of us. One giant conflagration of fire…. and you've only brought it all the closer."
Valo lunged forward with his bloodstained kutari, but to Cartagia he might as well have been swimming through treacle. In one swift motion the Prince had drawn his sword, knocked aside Valo's thrust, and delicately sliced open his side.
The general fell.
"Get that wound seen to, my Lord," Cartagia advised. "It shouldn't be fatal. Malachi's…. on the other hand…. should be." He stepped aside Valo's body, careful not to spill any blood on his clothing, and approached the stricken First Minister.
"What a clumsy attempt at killing you, Malachi," he said, in an almost friendly tone of voice. "Ah well…. you can never rely on anyone to do anything important. A simple truth, but one so many people forget. You knew it, didn't you?
"Oh…. I know exactly what you've been doing…. and I can hazard a good guess as to why." Malachi's eyes widened and he tried to whisper something, but Cartagia cut him off. "All it took was a lot of information, and a little use of intelligence. I helped you. To a certain extent our plans lay in the same direction. The only difference was…. you were planning for a future, and I am working towards the absence of one.
"Smile, Malachi. The Court is in chaos. Just as you wanted…. It's such a shame there won't be anyone to rise up from the ashes, isn't it?"
"No…." the fallen noble rasped. "Cartagia…. no…." The prince raised his sword.
"Malachi!" cried a new voice, and Cartagia gave a silent curse to Gods he didn't believe in. "Cartagia."
"Londo." Mollari and his Minbari companion were coming from the other side of the corridor. "Your timing is…. as ever…. impeccable."
"It's over, Cartagia. You can't win."
"I know. I've never wanted to." Without taking his eyes from Mollari's, Cartagia took a few careful steps back. He knelt down beside Valo's body and picked up the general's fallen sword. Valo swore at him with appreciable malice. Good, the wound hadn't been that deep after all then. He had been starting to worry.
Cartagia hefted the sword. A good balance, finely made, not one of these darning needles the courtiers carried. Say what you like about him, Valo knew a good sword when he bought one. It was just a pity he couldn't use the damned thing.
