Who he would help was anyone’s guess.

Ta’Lon would doubtless find it difficult to get into Proxima 3, especially as, if his estimates and information were correct, he would be arriving only a few hours before the Minbari. While the Resistance Government might be quite happy at the arrival of another ship, Ta’Lon would have little time to do what he needed to do.

He had been out of contact with most of G’Kar’s agents for some time. Epsilon 3 had been silent, the Centauri aide with access to the Grey Council provided what little he could, and the agents among the Non-Aligned Worlds knew little of importance outside their own little areas.

As such Ta’Lon knew nothing about recent events on Proxima. He did not know about Satai Delenn’s transformation and escape. He did not know of Captain Sheridan’s defection. He did not know just how deeply the Resistance Government had given itself over to the Darkness.

What he did know was that he had a duty to his friend, to pass on one last message to his beloved. Neroon had met a warrior’s end, a fitting death, and so Ta’Lon was left with his legacy.

And so he came to Proxima… a world of darkness and deep night.

Corwin was impressed by the Parmenion. As he and the Captain were shown around by Major Krantz, he took special notice of the ship’s unique features.

It was a heavy class destroyer ship, a similar type to the Babylon. The Babylon, however, had undergone so many upgrades, conversions and last minute botch-job repairs over the years that it was, quite literally, in a class of its own. The Parmenion was newer, cleaner, fitter and far readier.

“The crew have been trained and drilled extensively,” Krantz was saying. “They’re looking forward to meeting you. They’re the best Mr. Bester can find. Some of them are… soldiers of fortune of a sort…”

“You mean mercenaries,” Corwin provided darkly.

“They fight for us. They fight for Mr. Bester. What does it matter how much they’re being paid? Most of the crew is human, but there are a few aliens – Narns mainly. Some secret elements in the Narn military have been working quite closely with Mr. Bester. Some of the Kha’Ri are quite interested in his work here in Sanctuary and have been funding our activities.”

“How come Proxima’s never heard about any of this?” Corwin asked.

“They have. A little, anyway. Mr. Bester has lent them support from time to time. They just don’t know the specifics, that’s all. We’ll operate more in the open when the right time comes. A few members of the Non-Aligned Worlds know about us. We’ve been having a few skirmishes lately with a race called the Streibs. Not very nice people at all.

“You’ll have a chance to meet the bridge crew soon enough, but there’s someone special you ought to meet first.”

Krantz stopped at a door, and activated the bell. A few moments later it opened, and a very young woman stepped out. Corwin blinked and then looked at her. She was wearing typical Psi Corps clothing – dark and utilitarian, with black gloves and the Psi Corps insignia. She couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.

“Alisa Beldon,” she said, introducing herself. “Telepath rating P eight. So far. Primary telepath aboard the Parmenion.”

Corwin shook her hand and introduced himself. The Captain did likewise.

“I’m glad to have met you, Captain Sheridan,” she said. “I remember hearing the news about the Black Star. I was only seven at the time, but I remember the partying and…”

“You’re making me feel old,” Sheridan grumbled. Corwin couldn’t help but smile. He’d been fifteen during the Black Star victory.

“Will you be at the bridge later?” the Captain asked. “I have a speech I’d like to give.”

“Of course, Captain.” She smiled again, and bowed, both at the Captain and Corwin. Corwin caught a hint of a dazzling smile, and then the door closed and he looked back at Major Krantz.

“What’s a telepath doing on a ship like this?”

“All of the ships here at Sanctuary have at least one telepath on board. You never know where they might come in useful.”

“I wouldn’t have thought Bester would place his telepaths in danger like that. And isn’t she a little young for a P eight?”

“There were certain… experiments carried out on a lot of early adolescents. It heightened and accelerated their abilities. Telepaths are a valuable resource after all, and the art of leadership is appropriate use of your resources. Wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes. Quite right.”

“Sir?” Corwin asked. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just… going over my good luck speech.”

“Your what?”

“My good luck speech. It’s a… personal tradition. I give a good luck speech within twenty-four hours of taking on a new command. With everything that’s been happening lately I think I deserve the luxury of at least one old habit.”

“I never heard about a good luck speech.”

“Well, I’ve been on the Babylon for so long that I’ve never needed to do one. I just… I don’t know. I just need some sort of link to the past.”

“Oh. Well. I’m looking forward to hearing it.”

“I wouldn’t look so smug, Commander,” Krantz said. “The crew will probably want a few words from you as well.”

“Me? But that’s… that’s… I’m no orator. I just… ah…”

“Don’t worry, David,” the Captain chuckled. “It’s not as hard as it looks. Assuming I get this bit. Damn! I’ve got out of practice in giving it.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Krantz said. “You’ve got at least an hour or two to remember.”

If anyone had walked into the Royal Court at that moment, they would doubtless have been outraged to see Lady Elrisia reclining on the Imperial Throne itself. The Throne was for the Emperor only. Oh, sometimes his First Minister sat there while receiving audience when the Emperor was away, or busy, but still… there were matters of protocol to consider. None of Emperor Turhan’s wives had ever so much as contemplated sitting on the Imperial Throne. (Well except for his first wife in that unfortunate incident with the Drazi Ambassador and the ’live’ banquet – apparently caused by the overuse of the colour purple in the decorations.)

Lady Elrisia clearly had no such compunctions. As far as she was concerned, she could sit wherever she liked. The future Empress could do whatever she liked.

Officially speaking, there was no title of Empress. The Emperor’s wives were always called by the simple title of Lady – albeit with more respect than was given to a noble’s wife. Elrisia was planning on changing that. She was planning on changing a lot of things.

“Did you hear the way he spoke to me? It was an outrage, I am telling you! An outrage. I have a mind to have him flogged!”

“Cartagia dear. Shut up.” Elrisia was getting very tired of his infantile prattlings. If it weren’t for the fact that Marrit was even more tedious and boring, she would probably be with him. She was, after all, going to be his future wife, and Empress.

Empress Elrisia. She liked the sound of it.

But as always, there was a problem. Said problem being Londo Mollari.

He was an anachronism. An ‘old guard’. You only had to look at his hair and hear his accent to understand that. He still believed in the ‘good old days’ of Centauri power. The good old days were gone. Elrisia planned on creating the good new days.

And if it weren’t for people like Londo and her dear husband always standing in the way, she’d have a far far easier time of it.

And she had been trying. A number of assassination attempts had had to be aborted, but she had been certain her gas booby trap in his carriage a few weeks ago would work. It had certainly cost her enough. But no, Londo had escaped that one as well.

“How does he do it?” she asked herself. “He must have all the Gods in the pantheon on his side. How can anyone who gambles so badly be so lucky?”