“We’re going to tell you exactly what we saw on Babylon Four, and exactly what it was doing there, and where it was going, but first, a little background detail. Delenn?”

Satai Delenn shifted in her seat slightly and placed her hands on the table.

“There are beings in the universe billions of years older than either of our races,” she began. “Vast and timeless, they walked among the stars like giants. The oldest of these were called the Shadows.

“We have no other name for them…”

Darkness. It comes in many forms. There is the simple absence of light. There is the darkness of dreams and nightmares. There is what Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar – still buried in the heart of his Great Machine – would call the darkness we fight. But greater by far, as Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar would also say, is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way.

One such soul was walking through the corridors of power in the Main Dome at Proxima 3, last bastion of the human race. Said soul was the last, best hope of the human race, although precious few knew the nature of that last, best hope.

One who did was walking beside her. Marcus Cole, both bodyguard and spy. He had been given the task of keeping an eye on her by Captain John Sheridan, who had his own doubts about humanity’s new allies, doubts that had been realised several months ago in a confusing and terrifying encounter aboard the lost, never built, space station Babylon 4. After that meeting, Sheridan had called a council of his most trusted friends and allies – Marcus himself; Commander David Corwin, Sheridan’s second; and Sheridan’s prisoner Satai Delenn. And he had spoken of Shadows.

Marcus knew about Shadows. He had seen them rising from the ground as they destroyed the only home he had ever known. He had learned about Shadows from Narn Councillor Na’Toth and Narn prophet G’Kar, who were slowly building an army against the Shadows’ return.

Oh yes, Marcus knew about Shadows, and he knew his purpose in opposing them. To follow, to watch, to observe, and nothing more.

For the moment at least.

He wasn’t sure what she thought about this. She barely spoke to him, barely even acknowledged his presence, save for a quiet, half-mocking smile whenever he was around. At least in public. In private…

He fingered his PPG nervously. As a weapon it seemed strangely unnatural to him, as if he should be carrying something else. She didn’t notice his unease. She never did.

“Lieutenant Ivanova,” said the Security official at the entrance to the Resistance Government’s quarters. She was always called lieutenant – the rank she had held before her trip to the dead world called Z’ha’dum. Although she was technically still a member of Earthforce, the title felt wrong to Marcus. He wondered how long it would be before another title stood there instead.

That of Ambassador.

Ambassador of Shadows.

How could such a beautiful woman be touched by such evil? he thought. Was it simply bad luck? What could – and would – she have done as a servant of Light instead?

“And Mr. Cole.” Complete contempt in three words. Marcus knew that the guard didn’t like him, but that didn’t matter. He was here on Captain Sheridan’s direct authority and Captain Sheridan had a great deal of authority with the Resistance Government.

They had tried to protest, had said that Lieutenant Ivanova already had more than adequate security provisions. Sheridan had countered by saying that Marcus would also serve as diplomatic staff. The Resistance Government had said that Marcus had no background in such an area. Sheridan had responded by forging documents proving that Marcus had worked on the staff of Administrator Na’Far on Vega 7, rather than being merely a miner.

Ivanova had observed this whole debate quietly and without fuss.

“Go on in. They’ve been expecting you.”

Actually only a few members of the Resistance Government were there. President Crane was absent – presumably still unwell. She had fallen mysteriously and conveniently ill a few months ago and had not yet recovered. In her seat was Vice President Clark, a man Sheridan did not trust one inch. Clark had been acting differently in recent months. More… energetic than usual. General Takashima was her usual quietly observant and professionally refined self. General Hague meanwhile was looking even more tired and stressed than usual.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Ivanova,” Clark said. Susan smiled almost imperceptibly as he did so. “We will be having a guest who has been most anxious to meet you. He will be arriving in a few hours and he has requested a private meeting.”

“Oh? Just how private?” she said smiling, and Clark chuckled. “So, who is this guest?”

“His name is Bester,” said Takashima slowly. “He used to be a Psi Cop.” Marcus saw all of the blood drain from Susan’s face. Takashima did not notice, or if she did, she made no reaction. “Have you heard of him?”

“No,” Susan breathed. “No. Who is he?”

“A high-ranking Psi Cop,” Hague said dully. “Very powerful, too. Like the rest of us, he escaped the attack on Mars, thanks of course to Captain Sheridan’s intervention. He set up his own colony somewhere. We don’t know where. Some secret Psi Corps base or something. Psi Corps doesn’t exist any more, of course, but he acts as if it does. The Minbari seem to leave him alone for some reason. Perhaps he made a deal with them.” The bitterness in his voice was almost tangible.

“But he has done us a favour or two,” Takashima said quickly. “He arranged for food shipments to tide us over the worse of the famines a few years ago, and he has provided us with the occasional useful piece of information about Minbari activities. We owe him several favours.”

“He’s heard about recent events here,” Hague said. “And he’s interested. He’s requested a meeting to talk about your friends. He’s also interested in Satai Delenn, but as Captain Sheridan won’t be returning from Ragesh Three for another eight hours or so, we thought Mr. Bester could meet with you first…”

“No!” Susan cried. “No telepaths! They would… damage the link between myself and my friends. I cannot meet him, I am afraid.”

“He will not attempt to scan or read you…” Hague began, but Clark interrupted him.

“If that is the case, then Mr. Bester will have to be disappointed. We apologise for your inconvenience, Miss Ivanova.”

“Perhaps he could meet the… head of your diplomatic staff, then,” Hague said, indicating Marcus, who did his best not to look startled.

“That would not be possible either,” Susan replied quickly. “Telepathic activity may damage the link between him and my friends as well.”

Marcus nodded, knowing there was no such link. He was paying the matter little attention however, having noticed something else which he felt more important. He had seen something surprising in her eyes at the suggestion that she might have to meet this Bester.

Terror.

“When will they learn? For God’s sake, we’re not their errand boys. I wonder if G’Kar knows anything about this. He probably does, although I wish I knew what he was doing inside that damned Machine.”

Captain Sheridan, greatest human war hero, a captain with an outstanding record, the Starkiller, et cetera et cetera, turned about sharply and caught his foot on the leg of the couch. He stumbled forward and was rewarded with a soft chuckle for his acrobatics.

“I am sorry,” said Delenn, but she was still smiling. Slowly, she lowered another piece on to the structure she was building. She took a step backwards and regarded it, nodding slowly.

“How is it going?”

“Well… I think.”

“You still don’t know what this is going to do to you, do you, Delenn? Dammit, I wish you’d reconsider.”