Once more the Babylon had survived, but there was always a cost. Marcus had been quite badly hurt when his Starfury had been destroyed, but he had been recovered and taken to Medlab. Dr. Kyle said he only needed rest.

Sheridan hardly noticed any of this. He simply asked Satai Delenn to meet him on the observation deck. He looked at the planet sadly, and watched as the Trigati left. Another enemy made, another death at his hands, four more of his crew gone.

He hadn’t completed his mission either. Euphrates did not belong to the Earth Alliance. It had been taken by a Narn to use in fighting an Enemy who was in all likelihood the very same ally who was bringing hope to the Earth Alliance.

Sheridan would catch more trouble from the Resistance Government for this, but he didn’t care. Them he could deal with. He didn’t think he could cope with telling Delenn how he had killed her friend.

But he had learned how to do what was difficult, and when she arrived, two security guards flanking her, he looked at her, and slowly, methodically, relayed the details of Draal’s death.

She bowed her head, and was unable to speak for a while, and when she did, she said, “I knew. Somehow I knew it when he died. He was all that remained of my father.”

“I… aw hell. I’m sorry. It was… an accident.”

“I do not blame you, Captain. Nor do I blame Kalain, nor G’Kar. It simply was, but that does not make it easier to bear. I… I will see him again when my soul is reborn, or when I pass beyond the veil, but for now… it seems that everyone I have ever loved is lost to me. My father, Dukhat, Neroon, Mayan, and now Draal. I am alone.”

Sheridan could not find anything to say. He simply turned and looked out at the planet below. It seemed so peaceful now, so tranquil. An unlikely place for a new fortress of Light.

“He is down there?” she said. He nodded. “And he died trying to serve?” Another nod. “He would have sacrificed himself for others?” Nod. “Then he would have died happy. I am pleased for him.”

Sheridan looked at her, and met her eyes. She met his in turn, and there was silence, as the two spoke without words.

And then Fate intervened. The whole ship lurched. Sheridan fell back against the wall, while Delenn steadied herself against the plastic. Sheridan activated his link.

“Corwin, what the hell’s happening? Are we under attack?”

“No, sir. Tachyon emissions. They’ve gone up through the roof. God knows what… my God!”

“Corwin, what?” And then Sheridan saw it too. Appearing from nowhere in front of him, directly in his view. And he recognised it.

And he wasn’t the only one. “Blessed Valen!” Delenn breathed.

“That’s impossible!”

She turned to him. “You recognise it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s Babylon Four.”

The Shadows were coming.

He listened as they died, and as they killed. His friends were dying in his name, were fighting a last stand so that he could complete his destiny. He wanted to be there with them, this one last time, but he knew that they were dying for his sake. He could not render their sacrifice worthless.

Are you ready? said the voice in his mind.

He didn’t know what to say, but the voice knew. Good. You are the closed circle returning to the beginning. I cannot be with you then.

He gasped as he felt its pain. It was light and beauty and agony all in one. The Vorlon was going to die, and both of them knew it. The sacrifice would be made willingly. Could he do any less?

“Are you ready?” said the voice from the commscreen. “Are you…?”

“I… think so,” he said hesitantly. “I… thank you. For everything.”

“It was no more than my duty, and no less than my pleasure. Be well, and walk with… Oh. Of course.”

He chuckled. “It is all right. For you, it will always be all right.”

“Remember me?” More of a question than a request. He smiled, sweetly and sadly. As if there were any other answer.

“Always,” he whispered, and touched the image on the commscreen gently. It faded and he straightened. It was time now. After so long, he at last knew his destiny. He was the arrow that springs from the bow. No doubts, no fears. Just certainty.

“Are you ready?” said the voice by his side.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Good, good. Yes, is being very good to being ready. Now is right time to being ready, yes. Zathras is being ready for long time, yes. Zathras has grown tired of waiting sometimes, but Zathras is used to it. Zathras is patient. And now you are ready, yes. Good.”

“What about the Enemy?”

“Click, click Is being not good. Enemy is being very strong. May get on board before we leave. That is being very not good, but have idea, yes. We get help. That is idea. We get help.”

“Help? From where?” He was told, and then he smiled. “Ah, of course.”

And the man who had been called Jeffrey Sinclair, and the alien called Zathras, entered the place called Babylon 4 – named in memory and honour – and they passed into history and legend.

But there were some for whom history and legend were present and fact. Two such were watching legend combine with reality, one with an almost beautiful awe, and the other with a pragmatic sense of the possible.

Who is to say which one was right in their reaction?

“Blessed Valen!” she gasped.

“That’s impossible!” he cried.

“You recognise it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s Babylon Four.”

“What… is Babylon Four?”

Captain John Sheridan turned to Satai Delenn, and tried to frame an answer. Mere moments before, they had been standing on the observation deck, talking quietly about life and death and everything in between, and simply staring at the stars. And now he was staring at a piece of his past – and his future.

Before he could answer, his link sounded. It was Corwin. “Captain, tachyon emissions are stabilising, but they aren’t our only problem. You’d better get up here fast, and bring our guest with you. This is Grade A weird.”

“It is Babylon Four, then?”

“Definitely,” Corwin replied. “It matches the plans almost exactly, the location’s dead on, and it’s, well… identical to all the plans and specs I ever saw about it. That’s Babylon Four, no doubt about it.”

Sheridan groaned and sat down heavily, burying his head in his hands. “Why can’t I ever have a normal day, like normal people?”

“You’d be bored stiff, sir. And you know it.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit of boredom once in a while.”

“Both of you recognise that?” asked Satai Delenn. Corwin shot her an awkward glance. He was barely comfortable with the idea of a Minbari being on board the ship, least of all her. The Captain seemed to trust her, and therefore he could cope with it, but he always made sure she was closely watched at all times, and her room was guarded. All in the interests of security, he kept telling himself. Whatever the Captain might say, Delenn was still a Minbari, and Corwin had a long memory. Although not even the worst amnesiac in the galaxy could ever forget what the Minbari had done to humanity.

Corwin had not been on Earth when the Minbari had destroyed it. No one who had was still alive, but he had been on Mars, and he had seen the Minbari fleets filling the skies. And he had seen the Babylon, tearing through those self-same skies, which were full of stars, and each star was one ray of hope in three years of despair.