“They did last time.”

“It cannot hurt to make them aware of this.”

Sheridan looked at G’Kar, saw the wisdom in his eyes. “And what do you know about this?” he asked Zathras.

“Varn send out many of us. He not being sure of right one to replace him. He intend in gathering all viable choices at Great Machine, let Great Machine choose. Click, click One does not choose the Machine, no no no. The Machine chooses you. Click”

“And one of those other choices is a Minbari? Not a hope. I was told to take custody of that planet, and I’m going to…” Sheridan paused and looked and G’Kar. The Narn made a motion that was probably a shrug.

“Captain?” asked Commander Corwin.

“Aw hell. Launch the Starfury squadrons, and keep the forward batteries powered up. Broadcast a message in Interlac telling them we have Satai Delenn on board, and get her up here to the bridge. If they so much as blink in our direction, blast them.”

“Yes, sir,” Franklin said. “And for dessert, strawberry ice cream.”

“Vanilla, Lieutenant Franklin. I hate strawberries.” Sheridan looked at G’Kar. “Now what?”

“That.”

Sheridan looked where G’Kar was pointing. His eyes widened.

“Good God.”

“I am telling you, Alyt Kalain, we will not attack that ship!”

Kalain regarded Draal sharply. His patience for the old man was limited in the extreme. This was a mission carried out for Sinoval, not for Draal and that absurd little alien. “I am Captain here,” he replied harshly. “And my orders will be obeyed.”

His words were stern, but they could not disguise the fear that he felt. This was Sheridan, the Starkiller. Kalain had followed Sheridan’s progress ever since the incident over Mars, picking at his shame irrationally. The involvement in the Narn / Centauri War. The destruction of the Emphili and the Dogato. His capture on Vega 7 and his escape from Minbar itself, with Satai Delenn.

Kalain was both exhilarated and terrified. This was his chance for redemption, for atonement for his cowardice over Mars. But this could lead to further shame and defeat. He dared not risk further shame. Sheridan had to be destroyed now.

“You heard their message,” Draal snapped. “They have Delenn with them. You will not jeopardise her life for your own revenge.”

“They were lying.”

“You know they were not.”

“Then if Delenn is with them, she is there willingly, and is therefore a traitor and not worthy of our concern.”

“Mathras!” Draal cried. “Can you do something here?”

“Mathras not, no, but Mathras know one who can, yes.”

“Shut your yapping gok up!”

“Gok? Mathras not is gok. Mathras not even know what gok is. Mathras… Ah. See. Mathras told you, but you not listen to Mathras. No one ever listen to Mathras. Not even Zathras listen to Mathras.”

“What does he…? Valen’s Name!”

Before him, shimmering slightly, was a vision of an alien Kalain had never seen before. Superficially, he resembled a Markab, but there was an age and wisdom in his eyes that could not have belonged to any member of that dead race.

“Greetings, visitors,” said the image. “I am Varn, custodian of the Great Machine. There will be no violence above this planet. You were all brought here for a purpose, and that purpose is to decide who will replace me in the heart of this Machine. Zathras and Mathras, my friends, you have done well. Bring your choices to the surface, and the Captains of these vessels. It will be for them to understand and spread word of what will happen here. Do not worry about the atmosphere. I have rendered it quite breathable by your species.

“And to be clear: any hostile action made by either side will be met by the destruction of that ship. There will be no violence here. Neither I nor the Machine will permit it.”

The image faded, and Kalain shot a sharp glance at Draal and Mathras. “Told you, Mathras did. Yes yes. Told you, but you not listen. No one ever listen to Mathras. Very sad life, yes, but meaningful too. Yes yes. Mathras not complain. Mathras have purpose.”

“I told you, Draal,” Kalain said. “Shut him up. Well, you heard that… thing. We have to go to the surface.”

And the Starkiller will be there as well.

“I may not go back,” Sheridan breathed as he looked around. “This is… this is… Hah. I think I’ll have to invent a word to describe it.” A flippant remark, but true. There were no words to describe what he saw around him. To think that an alien race could have built this and kept it hidden, disguised from intruders, and lived their lives here, so far underground… the whole thing was breathtaking.

“Is Great Machine,” said Zathras. “Is very great, no?”

“It certainly is that,” Sheridan breathed. He looked at his other companion, but G’Kar was whispering quietly to himself. Sheridan recognised a fragment of the Narn dialect, and he knew a prayer when he heard one.

And then his link activated, and the illusion was broken. “Everything’s quiet up here, Captain,” came Corwin’s voice. “The Minbari don’t seem to be making any hostile moves. We did see a shuttle go down a few minutes ago, however.”

Always a serpent in paradise. “Thank you, Mr. Corwin. Let me know if they show any sign of aggression. And… keep Satai Delenn safe. Sheridan out.”

“There will be no fighting above here, no no,” Zathras said. “Is being against Varn’s wishes. Fighting be not good. The art of fighting is knowing when to fight, and who not to fight… Ah, no no no, please be forgiving Zathras. What Zathras meant to say, is, the art of fighting is knowing who to when and fight to fight… Ah no. This is not good. Who to fight and when to fight who not. Ah, no. Click, click You have very strange language. Zathras not think he like this language. Is not making sense.”

“Well done,” Sheridan congratulated him. “It took the rest of us several hundred years to figure that one out.”

“Welcome, my friends,” said an old voice. Sheridan rounded a corner, Zathras scampering about at his heels, and came to an abrupt halt. Zathras crashed into the back of his legs.

“You is not wanting to be doing that. You should at least have given Zathras some warning, but no. Ignore Zathras. Zathras not important. No, Zathras does not mind.”

“But you are important,” said the voice. It was the same voice that had greeted him aboard the bridge of the Babylon. “We are all important, Zathras, each in our own way. And greetings to you too, Captain Sheridan, and to you, Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar.” The Narn pressed his fists against his chest in salute. Sheridan simply stared.

The alien did not look like anything special. He partially resembled a Markab, but he was shorter, and his facial structure was slightly different. His voice also seemed quieter and less assured than it had. Physically Varn was not very impressive, but then nothing would look impressive when compared to the mass of machinery and lights and colours that surrounded him. The whole sight was awesome, rising impossibly high into the rock all around them. Varn seemed as much a part of the machinery as were the wires and cables that joined him to it.

Varn – or rather, the image of Varn, who was standing several steps out from what was presumably his body – turned and gave a brief nod of his head. Sheridan turned also.

There were three new guests. One of them looked exactly like Zathras. The other two… were Minbari.

Always a serpent in paradise.

“But Lieutenant Ivanova, surely you can see our position here!” President Marie Crane of the Resistance Government was tired and hungry, and she very much wanted to rest. She did not want to be fighting against half of her own government and the woman standing before her.

“We need confirmation of your friends’ good faith. We will need to establish treaties, codes of conduct, exact details of what we expect from each other as allies. Trading agreements, even. Perhaps even an ambassador. We are taking everything that we have been told so far simply on your word.”