“Psi Corps doesn’t know the meaning of the word love, Marcus. She’s just using you. Using you to try and gain a part of her life that she can never have.”

Marcus started as something shimmered beside him. He turned, and gasped…

(A black scream in his mind the earth broke as it rose it screamed in his mind it was big and black and came from Hell it screamed in his mind screamed in his mind…)

Marcus knew he was looking at a Shadow. Two Shadows. He stumbled and staggered backwards. He fell.

“She can’t love you, Marcus,” Ivanova said. “Only I can.”

She gripped her pike tighter and looked down at Lyta. Lyta was trying to say something, but she couldn’t get the words out.

Marcus tried to move forward, but the Shadow was there, blocking his way.

Ivanova raised her pike…

“Shai Alyt, we’re intercepting a message.” Tryfan looked across at the Ranger who had said this. The very title of Shai Alyt addressed to him gave him a moment’s pride and exultation, but he soon focussed his attention back to the matter at hand. Holy One Sinoval and Satai Kalain had entrusted him with this position. He would not prove them wrong.

“It’s from… it’s from her. Zha’valen.”

Tryfan started. Delenn, formerly of the family of Mir, formerly of the Grey Council, formerly chosen of Dukhat, formerly a Minbari. Now, she was Zha’valen, traitress to her race and her people, and willing agent of the Enemy. The Grey Council had pronounced her Zha’valen – literally, a Shadow on Valen – a few weeks before. Now, no Minbari could speak to her, look at her, or even speak her name. She was outcast.

By the laws of his people, Tryfan should ignore the message, deny it as he should deny her very existence, but… this was war, and practicalities were more important than principles. If this was genuine…

But even Tryfan could only go so far.

“Send the message to the Grey Council, to Satai Kalain if you can. Let them decide what to do about it.”

“Should we not listen to it first? It might be important, Shai Alyt.”

“She is Zha’valen,” Tryfan countered. “Her words are as dust, her heart is as stone. Nothing she says matters to us.” Ritualistic words that could not fail to hide Tryfan’s deep anger and disappointment. He had known Delenn – known her well. To see her as traitress and outcast… it hurt.

But duty came first. Duty and honour.

Tryfan was unsure of whether it was instinct or pure luck that caused him to look up at that moment, but he did look up, and he was the first to see, on the display before him, the sight of the big, black ships shimmering into existence. He breathed in harshly (hearing the screams in his mind) and whispered a silent prayer to Valen to guide him.

The Shadows were here.

General Laurel Takashima was certainly no stranger to battle. No one promoted in Earthforce in the aftermath of the fall of Earth could be. She had seen Minbari ships flying through the heavens above Mars, and she had seen Captain Sheridan’s bloody charge into their armada on this very ship. Takashima did not like Captain Sheridan, but she had to acknowledge his skill. The Babylon was his ship, not hers.

And then there was the crew…

Most of the Babylon’s crew had been off-ship – either being questioned by Welles and his security guards or just being out of the way – when Sheridan had defected. A handful of the crew had gone with him, and stayed with him. Another handful had come back, along with a few of Mr. Bester’s people.

Bester had, unsurprisingly, provided no explanation for what had happened to the Babylon, or what had happened to Captain Sheridan. The newly promoted President Clark had muttered darkly about a few things, but had then let the matter lie. General Hague was becoming seriously unstuck. Mr. Welles was, of course, interested, but then he always was. Takashima…

This felt uncomfortable, and it was more than just the concern about facing the Minbari again. The Babylon was the mainstay of Proxima’s defence force – with or without Captain Sheridan – and it had to be there when the Minbari arrived, but…

Why did she feel that something strange was going on? There had been that unusual meeting earlier on, with one of the new bridge crew. One of Bester’s people, she supposed, but… why did she look oddly familiar?

Takashima had stopped and looked at the woman. She was blonde, pretty, very elegant-looking. Takashima had never seen her before, but… “And you are?” she had asked.

“Lieutenant Stoner,” had come the reply. “Second grade lieutenant.”

Takashima had blinked. She had never heard of this Lieutenant Stoner. In theory a quick look at the records should enable her to verify Stoner’s ID, but the Minbari were coming, and there wasn’t time, and… and… and she didn’t want to.

The instruments were picking up two other heavy class Earthforce destroyers nearby, but Takashima was not surprised, almost as if she’d been… expecting them.

The message came through. The image on the commscreen was of a harsh, severe-looking military man with a scar.

“Colonel Ari Ben Zayn, Captain of the Ozymandias,” the man said. “A pleasure to meet you, General.” He didn’t sound as if he meant it.

“Likewise, Colonel.” Takashima had met him before, once, when she was still a cadet and he was the hero of New Jerusalem. He was supposed to be dead. Another of Bester’s little surprises.

“They’re here. Ben Zayn out.” The image faded and Takashima heard the voice of Lieutenant Franklin, one of the old bridge crew. She didn’t need to hear his exact words. She knew.

The Minbari were here.

“Uncle Londo, what exactly have you got us into?”

A difficult question to answer, Londo thought. Stopping an attack by a Narn warship was one thing, but getting involved in a pitched battle, that was quite another.

Minbari on one side, humans and Shadows on the other, and the J’Tok and the Valerius in the middle, trying to drive back the Shadows and avoid getting shot by the humans or the Minbari.

It was at times like this that Londo wished he’d gone into farming instead.

Land, animals, crops, there. No big black insect-type ships, no insane wagers with Narns, no… no adventure, no glory, no respect, no chance to help his people.

“A wager, Carn,” Londo replied. “One of the greatest wagers of all.”

“Uncle Londo, you haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“Why, Carn! I am shocked by your attitude! Of course I have! But that is not the point. You won’t let some Narn claim superiority over us just because he did better in this battle than we did, will you? We are Centauri, Carn! We can best any Narn or human any day!”

“Of course we can!”

“Good, then you know what to do?”

“Yes, use our telepaths to jam their ships and then… well, hit them.”

“Good, Carn. Good. You are learning. Now, you are the military man, so you do what you think best. If you want me, then I will be hiding under the bed in my quarters. Good luck.”

For the first time in the history of their races, Narn and Centauri were fighting together, against a common enemy. It was a pity that the humans and the Minbari had not learned a similar lesson.

The battle over Proxima – the Second Line as it would later be called – was a mass of action, shifting, swirling, changing, with little rhyme, reason or strategy. To the pitifully small human defenders, it was simply a matter of holding the Line and protecting Proxima at any cost. To the Minbari, it was facing down the Enemy, crushing an opponent who should have stayed crushed after the last time, it was making a stand for Light against the Darkness.