“The Grey Council will listen to me. There is no other alternative.”

David Corwin had seen many things in his life thus far. He had seen life, he had seen death. He had seen the terrifying sight of Minbari cruisers bearing down upon the Babylon. He had seen the joy in Susan’s eyes reflected in his own. He had seen the death in her eyes when she had betrayed them all. He had seen Delenn’s first, faltering steps as partially human. He had seen the Captain’s eyes in the second when he had killed his wife.

David Corwin had seen many things, but nothing had affected him as badly as the sight of Alisa Beldon dying on the bridge of the Parmenion, shaking, trembling, whimpering, exhausted by her ordeals.

Corwin was not a telepath, and he had always looked upon the trait with mixed feelings when he imagined what it would be like. The wonder of touching someone’s mind compared to the terror of the utterly alien. Alisa had been experiencing the latter for hours now, jamming and delaying the vast Shadow vessels, making contact with something so utterly, terrifyingly alien that it nearly paralysed him.

The battle had not gone entirely as planned – the Captain’s capture for one thing – but at least they were still alive, and it looked as if Proxima 3 had been saved. From the Minbari at least. Whether it could be saved from the Shadows was another matter.

Alisa’s eyes fluttered and Corwin knelt down beside her. Medical staff had been called, but he knew that it was futile. She was dying. She had drained herself. All for him and the Captain. She was dying because she trusted him to do the right thing with her life.

Damn you, Bester! he thought. Damn you for making me do this! And damn the Captain for leaving and making me the one who had to be here. Damn all of them!

“Did I… do… well?” she asked. He nodded, and closed his eyes, unable to think of anything to say.

One of the techs looked up. “Another Shadow vessel closing, sir.”

“Bring us around,” Corwin ordered. He rose, but he was still looking at Alisa. She tried to stagger to her feet as well. “Stay and rest,” he ordered.

“Sorry, sir,” she whispered, looking up at the viewscreen and the approaching ship. “I… can’t… do… that…”

He saw the ship hesitate. She wasn’t strong enough to paralyse it completely, but it was delayed.

“Hit it!” he shouted. “Break that bloody thing apart!”

Broadsides, forward cannon, all poured at the ship. It shook slightly as more and more energy rained on it. Before his eyes, it withered and died.

It wasn’t the only one. As he turned, Alisa collapsed again. This time she would not get up. He knew it. He went to her side, and waited patiently as her last breaths faded. He did not have to wait long.

Gently, he closed her eyes and looked back up at the viewscreen. Now he understood what he had never understood before. The Captain’s attack on the Minbari over Mars. Theoretically his attack should never have had the effect that it did. But he had torn apart a Minbari fleet and crippled the Grey Council. How? Pure anger. He had been working on a fury so intense, so strong, that it had been almost tangible.

Corwin felt that strong now. He felt that anger. He felt that fury.

Every instinct was telling him to pull back, to reorganise the ship, to draw in the Starfuries. It was the logical response, but he didn’t care about logic now.

“Take us forward!” he ordered. “Into the fire.”

Captain Sheridan was also dwelling on life and death. When he was alone and in a seemingly difficult situation, he tended to fall into morbidity. While Delenn had been here his mind had been racing with ploys for escape, or a means to cheer her up. The two had ended up swapping stories with each other. He wasn’t sure, but he did think that some of her stories put paid to the old idea that Minbari did not lie.

But now he was alone, surrounded by darkness. His plans for escape were still germinating, but for the moment had not reached fruition. His thoughts had moved back to that peculiar incident not long ago.

The door had opened, and Sheridan had half started forward, expecting to see Delenn there. Instead it had been a figure he had not recognised. The figure stepped forward and the door closed.

Anticipating an attack, he had tried to prepare himself, but there had been a sudden and almost impossibly fast thrust to his abdomen and he had fallen. There had been a light pin prick and a feeling of numbness in his neck and then he had blacked out. That was it. No words, no gloating, no… nothing.

Perhaps it had been some sort of drug. Regardless, he was not worrying about it now. If he ever got out of this, then he would have to get it checked out by the doctors on Sanctuary. If he didn’t, then it didn’t matter, did it?

He started. The door was opening again. For a small cell, this place was certainly busy. He waited for someone to enter, but no one did. “You may come out, Captain,” said a voice. The owner of the voice was speaking System English, but with a heavy Minbari accent. Sheridan slowly stepped forward and left the cell.

The transition from the dark cell to the lit corridor had been a little difficult and he was forced to blink rapidly to order his vision. He kept himself close to the doorway in case this was a trick of some kind.

It was not.

The Minbari was wearing a white robe and he bowed slightly when he looked at Sheridan. “You are free, Captain,” the Minbari said. “Holy One Sinoval has ordered me to free you. If you will follow me, then I will escort you to a shuttle from where you may go back to your ship.”

“What? Why would Sinoval do that?”

“The Holy One does not share his reasonings with me.”

“Where is Delenn?”

The acolyte winced a little. “Where the Zha’valen is, is not my concern, Captain. You are. If you will…”

“I’m not leaving without Delenn.”

The acolyte made a gesture that in a human would be taken as a sigh. “Holy One Sinoval did say that you might take this attitude. I was expecting her to be here, but as she is not, I do not know where she is. I may, however, know one who does. If you will care to follow me.”

“If this is some trap…”

“Are all humans so paranoid? Surely if this were a trap, I could have left you in there. Oh, Holy One Sinoval told me to give this to you as well.”

The acolyte handed over a small cylinder of metal. Sheridan recognised the pike Delenn had given him – the one she had taken from the future Susan aboard Babylon 4, the one that Susan had originally taken from Delenn during her capture on Minbar. Time paradoxes made his head hurt.

Yes, this was definitely that pike. He extended it. The old bloodstains there were in exactly the same position he remembered. Evidently Susan had not cleaned it between whenever they were caused and the time Delenn had taken the weapon back.

“This is a bit dangerous, isn’t it?” Sheridan said. “What if I attacked you with this now?”

“That would not be advisable. Now. If you would follow me. We will see if we can find the Zha’valen.”

Choking I’m choking pain can’t think can’t think Marcus choking I’m choking pain Marcus Marcus… help me choking Marcus help me help me help me

Lyta Alexander was hovering on the thin border between consciousness and unconsciousness and the equally thin border between sanity and madness. All she could see was the dark core of pain burning in the eyes of Susan Ivanova as she tried to choke her life from her.

Again she tried to reach her telepathic powers and again she failed. The sleepers she had been given were too strong. The Vorlon who had helped her override their control before was gone now. Either gone or not willing to help her. There was no weapon near enough, Ivanova’s Minbari fighting pike – the very one which had killed Marcus – having rolled out of her grip.