Not long after that the attacks resumed, against both the Markab and the Tak'cha. The Tak'cha, who were never much given to diplomacy at the best of times, began intensifying their military programme. They spoke enigmatically of a race called the Vorlons, whom they believed to be messengers from their Gods. When pressed, however, no living Tak'cha could recall ever having seen a Vorlon.
The entire situation was growing more and more tense, and then, suddenly and strangely, a visitor came to our leaders of both clan and fane. He was an alien of a race we had never seen before. He called himself Shryne, and asked each leader a simple question. 'What do you want?' He spoke each of our dialects perfectly, he knew all our customs, and once he had heard the answers he smiled, bowed and left. Later, approximately half the clan and fane leaders, the majority from the warrior caste, were invited to a meeting in neutral territory. There they met with this Shryne and others of his race, and he made grandiose promises of aid. We would be strong, he said. We would have the power to achieve all that we desired.
All that we had to give in return was the promise of a simple favour. The Warleaders of the Star Riders, Moon Shields and Night Walkers accepted Shryne's offer. The new Warleader of the Wind Swords, full of pride, did likewise. Shuzen of the Fire Wings displayed honour above ambition, and refused. The religious caste were split, but most turned down the offer.
Within three months, all who had turned Shryne down were killed. Accident, disease, poison, assassination. The clans were soon at war.
It was then that the Vorlons arrived. They convinced our generals where the real enemy lay, and we went to war alongside the Markab and the Tak'cha, against the race we now called the Shadows. Shryne, whom the Vorlons referred to as a Ragg'hia, a race that served the Shadows, tried to call another meeting for peace with our leaders. He was captured and executed, and from that moment on the saying 'There can be no peace with the Shadow' began to be heard. Despite this, some of our more pacifist religious leaders still pushed for peace. Many went to the Shadows' homeworld, a grim, dark world called Z'ha'dum. When we took the place we found them there, changed irrevocably, beyond our capacity to undo.
It was not long after Shryne's death that Valen came to us…. and we were united. And from that point on, there truly was no peace with the Shadow.
Excerpts from The First Footsteps To The Stars: A History of Minbari Space Travel, by Sech Turval of the Temple of Tuzanor, published in the Earth Year 2232.
* * *
There was nothing but death where once there had been hope. Everything was gone, scattered to the four winds.
Epsilon 3 was destroyed, torn apart by the stress of the Great Machine. Somewhere, in pieces, amongst a sea of rock and metal and machinery a millennium old, lay the body of Michael Garibaldi. Just one of the many who had died at the Battle of the Third Line.
A great many ships lay in ruins, sacrificed to preserve the future and the past. Shadow ships were dead there also, their wordless screams silenced at last.
The temporal rift was closed, the past forever the past now. The Vorlon Kosh had sacrificed himself to ensure it fulfilled its purpose, returning the great hero Valen where he belonged.
And somewhere, amidst all the death and the carnage and the chunks of floating metal, shuttles moved cautiously, accompanied by beings in space suits, moving through the devastation, seeking survivors, hoping against hope that someone might still be alive.
It had only been a few hours since the battle's end. It was possible that some sections of the ships were still pressurised, possible that people still lived, trapped and alone in a dead prison.
But more than that, they were searching for a body, the body of one among so many who were believed to be dead.
Captain John Sheridan. He was there…. somewhere.
* * *
"He is not dead."
Commander David Corwin sighed and rubbed at his eyes. How long had it been since he had last slept? He had grabbed a quick three or four hours after the attack by Clark's forces, during the preparation of the station. But he had awoken from that feeling just as tired as he had been before.
With Mary, the night Bester's recall signal had been given. How long ago had that been? Three days or so…. Maybe a little longer. He couldn't tell any more. But then, the woman with him could not have slept much either. Of course, she wasn't human…. well, not entirely, and for all he knew she did not need to sleep.
But still….
"He is not dead."
Corwin gave her credit. She almost sounded as if she believed the words she was saying. He was sure he did not. The Captain…. had known what would happen. He had chosen to stay on the bridge of the Parmenion. He had chosen to order the evacuation of his crew, and to give the order to launch a ramming action.
In some way, he had wanted to die.
"He is not dead."
"I'm sorry, Delenn," he said, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. He was thirsty. "There are people out looking, but…. No one could have survived that, Delenn. The ship was destroyed, completely wrecked. Delenn…."
She raised her head and looked at him. He was trapped by her piercing eyes, and he contemplated her for a minute. He had never really been comfortable around the former Satai Delenn, but he could see just what it was about her that made her able to rule dynasties, to lead leaders, and to capture the heart of the great Starkiller.
Corwin admitted he did owe her slightly. She had once helped the Captain free himself from a difficult situation, at Corwin's request. He supposed he might have helped push them together by asking that of her, and he was not entirely sure how he felt about that.
Still, the Captain had been happy these last few months. That was something, at least.
"A part of the bridge could still be pressurised. You said yourself that communications on the Parmenion were down before the…. end. He could still be alive, trapped in a pressurised section of the ship, unable to alert us to his position." She was speaking calmly and rationally, explaining each point precisely. He did not want to listen. He had run over every argument he could think of, and he could still not believe anything other than the fact that Captain John Sheridan was dead.
"Delenn," he said, interrupting her. "I want him to be alive just as much as you do…. but…. it's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," she snapped, her voice firm. She sounded angry. "Nothing is impossible while there is hope, and faith. We have a saying, one John heard and understood. Faith manages, Commander. Faith manages."
"It hasn't done a very good job for me so far," he muttered angrily, but then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Delenn. I didn't mean that."
"No, Commander. It is I who should be sorry. John…. liked you a great deal. He respected you."
Corwin nodded and looked around, trying to avoid the lure of those green eyes. The quarters were not very luxurious, but then Drazi ones never were. They were on board the Drazi Sunhawk Stra'Kath, one of the few ships to remain in the Epsilon Eridani area. Most of the fleet that had fought in the Battle had gone back to Kazomi 7, for repairs and to off-load the wounded.
Captain Smith had taken his Babylon there and was now in detention, awaiting the decision on his fate. Susan was also there, and Corwin definitely did not want to think about her. So was Mary, and…. and he had something to ask her. He had been trying to build up the courage for a long while, but the battle had sharpened his focus. He would ask her….
But first he had a duty to his Captain. He would stay here until the body was found, and he would ensure it was taken back to Kazomi 7 and buried there. It was not really what the Captain would have wanted, but a burial on Earth was impossible now, as was one on Proxima.
"You should return to Kazomi Seven," he told Delenn. "The Government will need you now. G'Kar has also requested to see you. He…. he seems to be recovering well from his injuries."
"I am glad," she replied, her voice hollow. "But I will not leave here without John."
"Delenn, this is not rational. You…. you have responsibilities. The Captain would have wanted it this way. He…."
"I know what he would have wanted! But I will not let you send me away. I loved him…. I love him, and I will not believe him dead until I see his body. Not until then." She fell silent, and bowed her head.
"I…. know. And he loved you too." It was hard for him to admit that. He had never been able to reconcile himself to the Captain's feelings for this…. this Minbari.
"He is alive, Commander. I know that. I…. know."
"Faith manages," he muttered.
"Exactly," she replied, deadly serious. "Faith…. manages."
* * *
"What…. what is to do be done with me?"
Her guards did not reply. She was not even certain they could understand her words, but a vague legacy of senses she could not explain seemed to indicate that they had. Her telepathy was now once again barely present. It appeared that everything the Shadows had done to her had been erased by Kosh's sacrifice.
Everything they had done to her, but nothing she had done to herself.
The events of the last few years were clearer to her now, crystal clear as if she were looking at them through a lake of still water. Everything she had done…. breaking open Delenn's chrysalis, her part in Anna's death, her part in Laurel's death, her attack on Ambassador Sheridan and…. everything she had done on board Babylon 4.
"He couldn't have taken them away too, could he?" she muttered to herself. Not that anyone was really listening. Only the two Narn Rangers guarding her were present, and they hardly looked at her. Ta'Lon had told them she was powerless now, and they had believed him.
"No…. he had to let me remember everything. Every single damned thing."
She sighed, and bowed her head. As she slowed down the Narns turned to glare at her angrily, and she resumed walking again. All of these corridors seemed much the same. Whether that was typical of Drazi architecture or a sign of the limited budget of the United Alliance she did not know. Or particularly care.
What was waiting for her? A cell…. or a place of execution? She supposed what she had done might merit death, at least…. to the Drazi perhaps. Maybe the Narns, too. G'Kar wouldn't be exactly kindly disposed to her at the moment. Not after her part, however unwilling, in his removal from the Great Machine. She was the only one of that squad still alive.
She supposed that a lot of what she had done was wrong, but she had never intended to do harm. All she had wanted was to save humanity. That couldn't be so bad, could it?
And then her Russian pessimism returned. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Bad ones too, probably.
The Narns stopped in a section of corridor seemingly identical to the ones they had been tramping down for the past half an hour or so. There seemed to be a few more security cameras around, but little else was different. She did not even know which building this was. She'd never been to Kazomi 7 before, and she doubted she'd have much time for sightseeing while she was here. Not that there was much to see, apparently.
