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Chapter Text

“Summoned”
by Laura M. Appelbaum

-1-

“Summoned,” spoke a figure clad in the black and brown uniform of the Anla’shok, her identity hidden by the ebony hood of her cloak. As she announced her presence, she stepped into the single circle of light that marked an otherwise dark and featureless room. “I come. In Valen’s Name, I take the place that has been prepared for me. I am a Ranger,” she continued, searching the shadows for those who had called upon her, “we walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no one may pass. We live for The One. We die for The One. Why have I been called?”

Her answer came in the form of a tall apparition, covered from head to toe in voluminous grey robes, who emerged from the gloom to stand beside her in the spotlight. He held a long, metal staff that culminated in a gilded fleur-de-lis. A triangular device of strange materials was mounted in the center of the finial. Leaning the staff against his left shoulder, he reached to his head and threw back the enormous hood that had covered his features.

The Ranger recognized him at once. There was nary a man, woman or child on the planet who wouldn’t have. It was Valen; the Minbari not born of Minbari, Entil'Zha of the Rangers, the Chosen One, supreme leader of The Grey Council, and thus, of Minbar itself. The harsh, overhead lighting emphasized his heavy brow-ridges and the spot where they joined together midway down his nose, casting his eyes into shadow. The intricate, pale blue pattern atop his scalp was bleached by the light, making his distinctive bone crest all the more prominent. Long after all pictures of him were destroyed, per his orders; after the people’s shock over the hybrid appearance of his eldest daughter was forgotten and even the identity of the alien race his wife belonged to was lost in the passage of time, the dramatic curves of bone that swept away from his face would be remembered and recorded by artists and sculptors attempting to recreate a likeness of him for their Temples. Valen stood stiffly, nearly a statue himself, and his expression was inscrutable – it reflected no particular emotion, yet conveyed intensity.

“Why do you come here?” he demanded, taking his staff back in hand.
“To serve,” she replied softly.
“Whom do you serve?”
“The Truth and The One.”
“What is the Truth?”
“That we are one people, one voice.” She had never been in the Great Chamber of The Grey Council before, but the acolytes who guarded the doors had thoroughly briefed her on the ritual pronouncements that would be expected from her. Her own question had been extemporized – now she worried that she might have given offense with it. It was no small thing to be called before The Grey Council. She was relieved when Valen continued with other, well-scripted words.
“I call forth The Nine,” he announced, directing his attentions elsewhere.
A dimly glowing purple dome descended from the ceiling, centered above Valen. In clockwise order, nine bright spotlights struck the floor. Silently, nine other, identically shrouded grey figures walked into the lights. The Ranger was impressed by the precision with which the entire ritual was carried out and by the ceremony’s emotionally evocative nature. It seemed so ancient, so hallowed that it hardly seemed possible that Valen had only created it three years before, or that he’d been among the Minbari people for barely seven years.

Valen surveyed the room, checking to see that everyone was in place before he spoke again. His voice was deep and resonant, with a musical quality that added to the air of authority that surrounded him. It was a voice one would be hard-pressed to ignore, not that there was anyone on the planet inclined to try. Here, before The Council, he spoke in Adrinato, the Religious Caste language; using its archaic sentence structure and rich imagery perhaps more beautifully and powerfully than any Minbari before him. He chose every word with care, as if the Universe itself was whispering in his ear and telling him what to say.

“In two days, I shall leave Minbar for The Station, from whence I will lead the Anla’shok in battle against the Great Enemy. You will not see me again until the Shadows have been exiled from their places of power. This Council did request that I select another to lead in my absence. Previously, I expressed concern that were I to do so, with our government yet so young, the Caste of that proxy might conclude that I desired to give them a majority. I do not.” He pronounced his last words fiercely, turning about in his circle to face another group of dignitaries. “You chose to ignore my wisdom and repeated your demand, and so, reluctantly, I comply. Do not forget it was your desire for me to do this.” He paused and the Anla’shok beside him shifted position, still uncertain as to why her presence had been commanded. “There is but one person whom I can choose to so designate, one person no Caste can claim, for there is only one other among us who is neither Worker, Warrior nor Religious.” Valen looked at last to the woman by his side and gestured to her, indicating that she should reveal her identity. As she lifted the hood from her head and shook out her long mane of black hair, the enormous chamber echoed with the sharp, collective inhalations of The Council. The hugely pregnant Ranger before them, The Nine now realized, was none other than Catherine Sakai; Valen’s wife, the only alien ever to engage in sexual congress with a Minbari, and the first and only member of the Human race the Minbari would encounter for a thousand years.

One of The Nine threw the cowl off her head and onto her shoulders, signaling her intention to speak.
“The people will never accept this … they will not understand!” Valen eyed the speaker angrily, his eyes narrowed to menacing slits.
“Understanding is not required – only obedience,” he snapped, and Derann of the Moon Shields Clan of the Warrior Caste bowed her head submissively and took a step backwards.
“What will we tell them?” another figure asked as he uncovered his head.
“You will tell them nothing, Braoon,” Valen instructed, his tone more mild as he addressed Minbar’s High Priest, a man of long acquaintance. “All shall continue as before. The primary task before The Council remains the same – you must continue to set an example of direction, determination, patience and strength. You must inspire the people; strive to convince them that we will win this Great War, so long as we remain united and dedicated to obedience, service and cooperation. Should it be necessary for The Council to meet during my absence, Catherine will speak for me as she did in the days following my Trial.”
“But what if you should die, Entil’Zha…”
“Who said that?” demanded Valen in a harsh whisper.
“It was I, Master,“ apologized a much younger man, who only then remembered to reveal his face. “It was I, Rathmer.”

Both Valen and Sakai turned to regard their former housekeeper. The days when this now powerful representative of the Worker Caste had cooked and cleaned for them seemed so long ago – as remote as the Twenty-Third Century into which the couple had been born. Three years had passed since those days before Valen had been anointed by Fire and called forth The Nine; days when they’d been forced to disguise Sakai lest the Minbari kill them both for the crime of miscegenation. How had she survived that first year, living on nothing but Jeffrey Sinclair’s devotion? Sakai stopped her reveries abruptly – it was important that she focused on the events unfolding around her.

“I meant no disrespect, Master; I only wondered … it is war after all … if something should happen to you and you did not return to us … In your Name I beg your forgiveness … but if that should happen … surely you would not ask us to …”
“To have my wife succeed me?” Valen finished, and Catherine lifted her eyebrows in surprise as she caught the glimmer in her husband’s eyes.
“Satai Rathmer is young, he forgets his place,” said Tadoor, another member of the Worker Caste, who uncovered her own head as she tried to make amends for Rathmer’s impolite query. “Please do not allow his foolish words to offend you, Master.” Valen left his place at the center and strode over to the pair. He walked with such military precision that the long folds in his robes barely moved. Sakai bit back a chuckle as she suddenly associated Valen’s smooth gait under those grey layers with the way Kosh and the other Vorlons glided across a room. It made them all seem unworldly, which, she supposed, they were. But the Great Chamber of The Grey Council was no place for levity.

“Do you disapprove because she is not Minbari, or because she is my wife?” he asked Rathmer, ignoring Tadoor’s contrition. Rathmer’s face turned white and he seemed to shrink inside the mound of dark fabric that surrounded him. Valen leaned towards him slightly, smiling disarmingly. “Please, Satai Rathmer; I give you leave to speak freely. What motivated you to make such protest?”

Behind him, Sakai smiled again as she recognized Valen’s tone of voice. It was nearly the same tone he took when he spoke with their three-year-old daughter, Delenn. He was proud and amused, she realized, not offended as The Nine had assumed. Rathmer, however, didn’t know that and his expression grew more fearful with every passing second. He worked his lips, but no sound came forth. Finally, Valen ended his misery by speaking for him. “If it is for the latter reason, you do well to complain – Minbar already values genetic lineage too highly. Let it never be said that Valen intended to create a dynasty or monarchy – that would be as mistaken and tragic as what might ensue were I to select a deputy with allegiances to any of the three Castes. For that, you are not yet ready.”

Valen began to pace around the inside of the circle, and as he moved away from Rathmer, Sakai noted the latter sigh in relief. They really do live in holy terror of him, she thought to herself. Yet he was such a gentle man! How was it that none of the Minbari understood him as she did; not even The Nine; his closest associates, the only ones beside herself and Kosh who knew the full extent of his sacrifice for Minbar; those few who knew that Valen had once been someone else, a Human named Jeffrey Sinclair? Of course, she had to admit to herself, her own understanding of him hadn’t given her any idea in advance as to why he had summoned her there. She’d been as surprised as the rest of them when Valen announced his desire for her to take his place, and almost as angry. But she couldn’t express that emotion here, in front of The Nine. She wondered if that was precisely why he hadn’t alerted her to his intentions. Damn Valen’s cleverness, she thought with envy. As Sinclair, he’d never seemed to know the right thing to say or do around her and the volatility of their relationship had been matched only by their love for one another. But with Valen, things were different. He played everyone so skillfully that most of the time even Sakai was unaware he was doing so. And when she was aware of it, as now, she had to admire his insight and subtle delivery. Sakai had never thought she could love anyone as thoroughly as she had loved and respected Sinclair, but Valen had taught her otherwise.

“If it is for the former reason,” Valen continued as he covered the circuit, his voice again dropping lower, becoming less audible, as it often did when he grew angry, or wanted to emphasize a particular point, “I would be forced to conclude that you did not attend to my Prophecy three years ago, when I stood before you in the StarFire Wheel and explained the great role Catherine’s people will one day play in helping Minbar attain its own Destiny. I would be most …displeased to think that any of you did not hearken to me as I spoke then.”

Sakai shuddered as she recalled Valen’s condition on that fateful day. She’d never forgotten the smell of his blood and flesh burning, never forgotten his saintly self-mortification and the extremes he’d been willing to go through in order to protect her and their then unborn child. She didn’t imagine that The Nine had forgotten either. As for the rest of the Minbari, she saw the residual awe in their eyes any time one of them stood in her husband’s presence. It was in their voices when they invoked his Name and in their actions when they stifled their vexation at her alien form and strove to beat their abhorrence into hospitality for his sake.

Valen again stood at the edge of Rathmer’s bright circle, a wry smile on his face.
“You should have chosen to reply, Rathmer, that I might praise your wisdom. It was a fair question you asked, and I will give you now my answer. After I leave this world,” Valen began, making certain to catch Sakai’s eyes as he did so. She knew what that glance was saying; that he meant the phrase literally, that he was reaffirming the promise he had made to her after surviving the Wheel. He had vowed that one day he would leave Minbar with her and their children and live someplace where his duties and obligations would at last be only to them. Sakai was convinced that such a day would never come, but she loved him all the more for pretending she was wrong. “After I leave this world,” he repeated, “You will mark ten cycles, during which time you will remain but The Nine. Not until the allotted time has passed will you select another to lead you. Should you choose then to take that person from among my descendents, you will be free to do so – provided that your selection is based primarily upon that woman or man’s personal qualifications. But you need not concern yourselves with these matters now,” Valen finished, moving back into his central circle of illumination, “because I will return to you at the end of the War.”
“Have you foreseen this, Entil'Zha?” Braoon asked with visible excitement. Is this from a vision? Are you delivering unto us further prophecy?”
“We create the future with our words and our deeds,” Valen replied enigmatically. “I call now for a vote. Who among you will follow Catherine, in my stead, into Darkness, into Fire, into Storm?”

One by one, the nine lights around him blinked out. Valen smiled inwardly. There had yet to be a vote upon one of his proposals that The Nine hadn’t agreed to unanimously. He was too modest to attribute this to his own wisdom or force of personality. He assumed instead that he had merely learned how to harness the innate Minbari desire to conform, to act communally. Once one vote was cast, it provoked another, and another. The fact that their votes would appear to be largely anonymous – that they could stand before him in defiance and disagreement without having to reveal their identities paradoxically supported his strategy. The more deeply each of The Nine believed they were voting independently, attending to the Calling of their Hearts, the more susceptible they were to the power of the collective. Thus, differences of opinion were squelched not by command, force or overt coercion, but by the individuals themselves. And that, Valen granted himself, was a tremendous tactical accomplishment. He was already beginning to guide the Minbari away from their long-held divisions of Caste and Clan and Family, and with the Anla’shok, he offered them a new institution, a new direction in which to channel their energies, passions and even violence. Almost four years ago he had prophesied that no Minbari would ever again kill another, and thus far, that commandment had held. No small achievement, that.

“Good. You may go now,” he instructed, catching Sakai’s arm with his free hand so as to make it clear his words did not include her. She looked around awkwardly at the darkness until The Nine had all left, wondering how they knew where the doors were.

“This is yours now,” Valen said softly, offering her the staff with the sacred Triluminary at its center. Words exploded from Sakai’s lips.
“Damn it, Valen, I can’t possibly do this! I could go into labor any day now – how do you expect me to raise four children and lead this damn planet all on my own?”
“I know I’m asking a great deal of you, Catherine, and I’ve thought long and hard, looking for another solution. But there isn’t one. I need you, Cath. I need you now more than ever, and Minbar, Minbar needs you. Besides,” he smiled at her, “you’re the one who set the precedent – I just reminded everyone of it.” Dissatisfied, she made a face. “You’ve always complained that I’ve worried too much about you – that I haven’t credited you properly for your own skills and talents. Are you angry now that I say I’ve no worries about you meeting this challenge?” Sakai tried to avoid his earnest eyes, knowing that once she met them, the argument would be lost. Valen reached over and gently ran his hand along her chin, beginning to tilt her face upwards. Sakai slapped him away.
“That’s not fair!” she complained. “At least let me be angry with you for a while! Why the hell didn’t you discuss this with me, instead of making a unilateral decision and announcing it to The Nine?” She realized as she spoke that when she had insisted long ago upon becoming a Ranger, she had surrendered the right to make any such demand. “We live for The One, we die for The One,” she had sworn, back when he was Jeffrey Sinclair and Ranger One. But instead of pointing this out, Valen twisted his face into a strange half-smile and confessed;
“Because this way, it’s done.” He looked at her now not with wry humor but brutal honesty. “Don’t you think I knew what you would say? Don’t you think I have some of the same concerns myself? So yes, I know what I’m asking.” He stared down at her belly, then drew her into an embrace. Sakai was surprised by the soft texture of his clothes; she never imagined anything comfortable could exist or take place in that room. Her perceptions had been colored by the tale Sinclair had told her about his capture, torture and crucifixion by The Grey Council back at the Battle of the Line, at the end of the Earth-Minbari War. “But this War must be won. What you and I want is irrelevant right now. Besides, you can do it.” Tenderly, he kissed the top of her head. Reluctantly, Sakai felt her anger subsiding, melting at the touch of his muscular arms around her and his breath against her face. She looked up into his eyes and Valen reigned victorious again.
“All right. I’ll give it my best shot, and we’ll just have to hope the babies cooperate. Valen,” she sighed into his robe, “why do we still seem to have such terrible timing?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered softly. “Delenn, Ambassador Delenn, used to say that the Universe puts us in the places we need to be; that even when those aren’t easy places, they’re the right places. That certainly seems to have been the truth in my life thus far, so it’s about the best answer I can give you.” He sighed and released her from his arms. “Here,” he said, passing her the staff. “Take it, Satai Catherine.” Reluctantly she accepted the offering, holding it horizontally across her body.
“Does the job come with any instructions, Valen?” He nodded seriously at her.
“Yes. Yes it does. Don’t forget – don’t ever let them forget – that our cause is far bigger and far more important than any one of us. And Catherine,” he gazed steadily into her eyes as he continued, “that includes me, too. Promise me you won’t forget that – no matter what.” Sakai drew back from him in protest.
“But, but, yes, that’s true for us, for us Rangers, but …Valen,” she sought out his eyes just as he had hers, “Valen, you're ‘The One.’ We live for The One; we die for The One. What’s the point of that oath if it isn’t about you …?” Upon those words, she first noticed the weight of the staff in her hands, and she saw Valen’s face change – if just for a moment – into the panicked expression of a man trapped by a destiny he wished he could avert. It was just for the briefest instant, but it occurred to Sakai that a similar expression must have been on his face the very first time he’d been in a room like this – bound to a merciless metal bar, imprisoned in the spotlight and realizing that he would never again be truly free. She blinked her eyes and the moment had passed. Valen was speaking with his usual calm.
“Rangers will be pronouncing that oath a thousand years after I’m gone, Cath. It has nothing to do with my physical wellbeing and everything to do with the cause. You’ve heard the speech I give the new Anla’shok about what those words really mean – don’t tell me my delivery is that unmemorable!”
“Nothing you do is unmemorable!” she laughed. Sakai turned her attentions to the scepter now in her hands.
“How does this work, anyway?” she asked, studying it carefully. It had been a long time since she’d really gotten a look at the artifact, even though Valen kept the staff stowed behind their bedroom door when The Council wasn’t in session.
“It senses your intent – performs any number of functions you'd want it to do.”
“Can I?” she wondered, looking up at him again.
“That depends on what you want to do with it,” he joked, then nodded seriously, swallowing hard. He knew what she was thinking about.

Sakai dropped her left hand, allowing the bottom of the staff to strike the floor, took a couple of paces back from Valen and concentrated. The Triluminary burst into a nearly blinding light, and in its luminescence she saw the face of Jeffrey Sinclair again, saw him the way she fell in love with him, the way he looked before he’d allowed the Chrysalis to change him, as a Human again. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten what he’d looked like, but it seemed to her as she drank in the welcome sight of his beautiful dark hair, those expressive eyebrows, his jaw long and square and his ears again across from his nose instead of his mouth, that she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that familiar visage. Mingled with her appreciation and her joy; the sensation that she was being reunited with a long-lost friend, was a sharp sadness that lodged behind her ribcage and needled her. No wonder he’d been reluctant to let her do this; no wonder his expression was so remorseful, even as he tried to smile for her, creating that sweet dimple on the right side of his face. Sakai felt tears welling up in her eyes and she turned her head away sharply from the sight. The Triluminary went dark as Valen stepped forward to hold her again, teary-eyed himself and whispering apologies.

“I’m sorry, Catherine,” he mumbled, “I’m so sorry I'm not who you want me to be any more ...”
“Don’t,” she begged, covering his mouth with her fingertips. “Don’t. You are who I want you to be, Valen. I swear to you that you are. I love you; I love you like this. These last few years have been so wonderful; I don’t even know what prompted me to do that … I just, I guess I just miss seeing someone else with hair,” she tried to laugh. “Stupid, huh?” There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Valen spoke again.
“Do you know,” he confessed slowly, “sometimes I catch myself looking at Delenn and wondering … what she’d look like if I were still Human?” Sakai caught his eyes again with another burst of guilt, and then relief.
“I, I thought I was the only one … why didn’t you tell me this before?” Valen sighed in response
“I was ashamed …I was certain you never thought that way … it’s hardly a noble thing to admit to, that you’ve ever thought about somehow changing your own child. But look, Cath, if you aren’t happy I want to know it.”
“Well, I’m not happy about ruling Minbar,” she said lightly. He smiled again, somewhat crookedly.
“Yes, I know that. You’ve made that rather clear. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“I’m not happy that you’re going now – before the triplets are born, and I’m not happy that having those babies is keeping me from being with you at the front lines.”
“You can help me better here. Anyway I'd be too distracted if you were on Babylon 4 with me.”
“And I'm not supposed to worry about you while you're there?”
“I didn't say that. But I hope you won't. You know, I’ve never stood in this room, in this light, and tried to have a personal conversation before. It's hard isn't it?” Sakai nodded in agreement.
“This place is definitely intimidating – let’s get out of here.” Valen began to lead her to a door. “You coming back home with me?”
“No. I’m afraid I still have a lot of things to take care of here in the Capital. I really can’t say when I’ll be home.” Sakai raised her eyebrows in surprised disappointment, then frowned, even though she knew it was too dark for him to see her expression.
“Valen … we still haven’t talked to Delenn … explained to her that you’re going away … and why…”
“I know. It’s on my list; trust me, I’ll handle it.”
“I’m not trying to foist that responsibility onto you, Valen; it’s just that she’s so young … she’s bound to misunderstand, to be frightened …”
“Catherine, believe me – I know. I was just a kid myself when my father left for the Dilgar War …” Valen paused. “I saw him again, once or twice, between tours of duty, but in the end, he never did make it back. I was proud of him, of his illustrious career, but I was angry too … angry that he left, angry that he was killed. Yet I never doubted that he loved me, that he would have come home if he could have. He made that clear to me before he left, and it meant a lot. So don’t worry – I won’t leave Delenn with any doubts either.” They paused in the now-open doorway, where the light blinded them.
“Here,” Sakai said, thrusting the Triluminary staff back at Valen, “this is still yours for another forty hours or so. I don’t think you should trust me with it any longer than you have to.” A pair of acolytes stepped forward toward them, and abruptly formal again, Valen accepted the staff with a nod and motioned to them to escort Catherine from the building. When she reached the far end of the hall, Sakai turned to catch a glance of him watching her leave, but to her surprise, Valen had thrown the hood back over his head and was re-entering the Great Hall. She made a mental note to ask him who else he might possibly be meeting in there, but by the time she saw him next, she had forgotten about it.

Chapter Text

-2-

“Kosh?” asked Valen as he stood alone in the spotlight marking the center of the Grey Council’s chambers.
“Yes,” intoned a voice from the darkness.
“You were here? You heard it all?”
“Yes.”
“Will you agree to stay here on Minbar and keep an eye on Catherine as I requested?”
“Yes.” The Vorlon’s encounter suit, with its strange collar of sensor devices and yards of pleated fabrics, glided over to Valen.
“I sense reluctance,” Valen said, voicing an observation that probably would have eluded nearly anyone else.
“Yes.”
“Please explain.”

There was a humming, then a loud click, and finally, the sound of wings beating the air, as the wedge-shaped portion at the center of Kosh’s encounter suit rose up out of position. A flash of light followed and suddenly Kosh himself filled the chamber. With only Valen present, he appeared in his natural form: as an enormous, golden, jellyfish-like shape with glowing eyespots. As he had on numerous occasions before, Valen gasped involuntarily at the sensation of being surrounded by Kosh. The only thing separating them, one from the other, were Valen’s clothes, and that wasn’t much of a barrier at all. It was as though a low-level electrical charge were running through his entire body, a feeling both alarming and seductive. Valen had experienced this nearly a dozen times and yet it always unsettled him.

The advantage of the experience, from Valen’s perspective, was that it made the Vorlon’s thoughts less opaque, less mysterious. He could hear Kosh’s thoughts in his mind, wordlessly, as though he himself were telepathic. The disadvantage was that Kosh could hear his thoughts as well. All of them. And then they bounced back at Valen in turn with twice the force. So now, even as he heard Kosh expressing the belief that he, Kosh, belonged with Valen on Babylon 4, Valen was also forced to take notice of the small part of his own subconscious that elaborated a sexual fantasy with his wife. He heard the part of his mind that was remembering being held before The Grey Council at The Line, and the part recalling their formation at his auto-da-fe in the StarFire Wheel. There were voices brimming with war plans and voices musing about dinner. The mind was a symphony of instruments, each of which performed without the awareness of any other. And yet, played through the filter of Kosh’s consciousness, it was a single song, a complex but harmonious melody. But that wasn’t how it sounded to Valen. It took a tremendous amount of concentration on his part to keep his mind focused, to express the thoughts he wanted to elaborate on. That was why he had pulled the hood back over his head and had his eyes squeezed tightly shut; the last thing he needed now was the additional distraction of visual stimulus.

“I’m not as certain as I let them think I am, about how strong The Council’s authority over Minbar will be with me gone. And while I know Catherine can handle herself and The Council, right now she’s pregnant, and she’s Human, and both of those things make her vulnerable. If I were to ask a Minbari to look after her, she’d figure out what was going on, and that would hurt her pride. I don't want to risk doing that. Yet I won’t be able to concentrate on my tasks at the front lines if I don’t know that she and my kids are safe. No one else here, including Catherine, questions what you Vorlons do. You’ve programmed them to think you’re angels, and thus they don’t expect to comprehend your actions. So you’ll have to stay here for me, Kosh, because I can’t be in two places at the same time.”
“I can,” thought Kosh, and immediately, Valen saw what the Vorlon was proposing.
“You want to break off part of your consciousness and hitchhike along in my brain? It’s not like I’m a telepath – I can hardly keep track of which thoughts are whose right now – I can’t compartmentalize my mind like that. And how could you do that anyway?”
“In a dream,” Kosh answered cryptically.
“A dream?” Valen repeated, unconvinced.
“Yes. A dream.”
“I don’t think so, Kosh.”
“You are afraid. Why?”
“Afraid? No, I’m not afraid, I … I just don’t like the sound of that idea at all.”
“Why?” whispered Kosh’s thoughts seductively, “why?”
“I’ve had such dreams before.”
“Show me.” Instantaneously, and not entirely of his own will, Valen did.

Valen’s mind took them both back in his memory, forward in time, to The Battle of The Line. They watched him being held down by Minbari, bloodied and confused, the drugs the Minbari had used to subdue him leaving Sinclair in a hazy, dreamlike stupor. He had no idea why he had been brought aboard the enemy Cruiser, nor why they had tortured him, and had even less information about the identity and purpose of the triangular device they had held up in front of him. It glowed blindingly, and then they'd released him from his bound position. Why had they taken him aboard in the first place? It was obvious they were going to destroy the remainder of Earth’s pathetic little defense force with ease; out there on The Line he’d realized that Earth had never had a chance. So why were they doing all of this to him, prolonging his misery? What kind of bloodthirsty, sadistic people were they?

A trio of other hooded Minbari approached him; these figures were wearing not grey, but white. Suddenly, he sensed that they were trying to enter his mind telepathically. In terror, Sinclair struggled to keep them at bay, fought against them as they violated his mind. It was only much later that he discovered they hadn’t wanted to hurt him; that they were trying their best not to damage his soul, but he resisted so fiercely, opposed their efforts with so much anger and fear that there was no other way for them to obey Satai Delenn’s orders. Wiping his mind was not the simple task they had expected, but something akin to rape.

In Valen’s next recollection, it was night, and Sinclair was in a barracks back at Earth Force HQ. He had collapsed on a bunk bed, exhausted by a very long day of cross-examination, only to awaken with a blinding headache and the certainty that someone had been traveling around in his sleeping mind, trying to find out what he was hiding. In session after session of questioning, he had insisted upon the same story, however impossible it was to believe. The only thing he had been afraid to share was the fact that he was as unconvinced by what he’d had to say as Earth Force Command had been.

For who could believe that at the height of the battle; just prior to the Minbari withdrawal from Earth’s solar system, merely hours before they transmitted word of their unconditional surrender, that his ship’s sensors had failed completely and that he, a veteran pilot, had simply blacked out?

He’d lost count, in the last three days, of how many different times he had been interrogated, but his account never varied. In his own harsh estimation, he had failed to demonstrate the necessary leadership to keep his squadron together and alive. In less than a minute, they were gone, all of them except himself. His Starfury's defensive and weapons systems were both destroyed, his aft stabilizers were hit and his power plant was nearing critical mass. He was doomed like the rest of his peers, fated to die like all of the other hopeless Humans whose body parts tumbled around him in space. Rage, pure and primal, filled him. There was nothing else Sinclair could do, and indeed nothing else he wanted to do at that moment, but to take a few Minbari with him. And so he targeted their main Cruiser, poured all his ship’s remaining power into the engines, and then … nothing.

The next thing he knew he was awake in his crippled 'fury, floating in empty space. His radio sparked to life, and a voice was saying that his life signs had been detected and that a rescue ship was en route.

The War was over. The Minbari had surrendered. He'd slept through it.

Of course no one believed him; he could hardly believe himself. He’d agreed to a surface scan during the last round of interrogations, for he needed to hear for himself that he wasn’t attempting to deceive anyone, that he had told the Board of Inquiry everything he knew. The Psi Cop confirmed it for them all, so why couldn’t he rest? And why this lingering impression that someone had probed his mind further?

In a dorm crowded with other survivors, Sinclair was alone. The others were sleeping peacefully, perhaps for the first time in years, placated by a shared certainty that their efforts had mattered, that they had succeeded and that Earth was safe at last. Sinclair felt otherwise. Fighting to rise from his bunk, the veins in his temples throbbing, Sinclair sat up cautiously, ran his hands through his short black hair, then rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. Could it have been just a nightmare? Who here could or would have scanned him? Slowly he got to his feet and crept out into the hall. The pain in his head was incredible. If there had been someone there, someone who shouldn’t have been, someone who had committed a crime against him, he was in no condition to make a search or lodge a complaint. He staggered into the bathroom, downed a handful of pain tabs with some water, and then stared bleary-eyed at his face in the mirror, wondering.

Sinclair had never before questioned who he was and what he wanted, nor for that matter, why he wanted what he wanted. Now he had no answers at all, could scarcely recognize himself. He concentrated on the face in front of him, ran his eyes along the angular contours of his jaw, around his ears, down his nose. This was still his face, wasn’t it? Who could mistake those straight, thick eyebrows for anyone else’s? Those were the same keen brown eyes that had previously served him so well … everything about himself was familiar, wasn’t it? Nothing was changed, so why did he feel so different? Nothing was changed … or was it? He leaned forward and squinted at his reflection as the medication began to take the edge off his migraine. There were a few faintly visible white scars on his neck, to the right of his prominent Adam’s apple, that he honestly didn’t recall being there before. Morbid curiosity prompted him to strip off his grey t-shirt. A moment of cautious study led him to discover other strange lines along his left shoulder, lines that ran over his collarbone and disappeared into the dark hairs on his chest. In bewilderment, he looked down at his hands, only to discern another network of white scars coursing around one of his thick forearms. He clenched his fist, flexed his arm, and they stood out from his ruddy skin like the canals on Mars. They weren’t the kind of marks anyone but he or perhaps a lover might ever notice, so he was unsurprised he had passed a physical with flying colors. But Sinclair knew he had never cut himself in any of those places; he'd remember if he had. So what had happened?

Valen’s mind wandered. Kosh settled upon another image of Sinclair in shackles, again a drugged prisoner, this time of a man he knew only as “Knight Two.” Like the Minbari and Human telepaths before him, Knight Two invaded Sinclair’s thoughts, but in this instance, a cybernet was deployed. He too poked and prodded at Sinclair’s mind, forcing him to examine that “hole in his mind” about the Earth-Minbari War. There were other incidents at Babylon 5 with telepaths – a dark little man, Alfred Bester, and Harriman Grey, a decent enough guy, but working for a power-hungry lunatic. It wasn’t anything either of those two actually did in Sinclair’s mind that troubled him – nothing other than them inviting themselves inside and thus reminding him of those who had come before. For Sinclair, it always came back to that moment of complete emptiness on The Line. Over and over and over…

“Enough!” Valen roared; so loudly that the acolytes outside the doors heard him and exchanged worried glances. They knew, of course, that Valen often had visions when he retreated, alone, into that room. They knew he sometimes spoke to people when no one else was there, knew that on at least one occasion, he had been heard to scream out in pain, and that when the doors were forced open, the priest Nermer found him unconscious on the floor. Sometimes Valen laughed aloud in the dark; sometimes he called out his wife’s name in a way that could only be described as akin to sexual ecstasy. But always he emerged with his face serene and often with the words of a new prophecy on his lips.

“I’m sick and tired of reliving that one period of my life,” Valen ordered Kosh, “It’s over – I burned it all away in the StarFire Wheel! I’ve finally moved on -- why are you trying to drag me back again? It’s in the future for you, but it’s my past. I’ve confronted it, I’ve learned from it, and I’ve moved beyond it. But that doesn’t mean you can just go and play it back in my mind like it’s a vid! It still hurts, Kosh. So as to your suggestion … my answer is still no.”
“Different. You will not be aware,” Kosh soothed him. “Until you need help and call on me.” But Kosh had torn back open a sutured wound, and Valen refused to be consoled.
“Help? What about help, Kosh? What about the help you promised I would have by now from other races? Where are the allies you said you’d bring to this conflict? Why haven’t my Rangers brought me word of them yet?”
“Young. Impatient,” Kosh observed. “They will be there.”
“When? I see it in your mind, Kosh – the Shadows are an old, old race. Even with the technology from Babylon 4, even with the organic tech you’ve seeded here on Minbar, it’s going to take a lot more to vanquish the Shadows and their allies.”
“Yes. That is why you will need me.” Valen hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
“No.”
“Reconsider.”
“When you start to deliver on your promises to me, I’ll reconsider. Until then, you may go,” Valen said imperiously. With a burst of sound, Kosh retreated into his encounter suit. Valen nodded to him dismissively and made his way to the door.

Chapter Text

-3-

Catherine Sakai awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of her daughter giggling. Like her father, Delenn often talked in her sleep, especially if she was having a nightmare. Laughter seemed a strange indicator of a bad dream, but who could tell with a three-year-old? Wearily, Sakai reached over to Valen’s side of the bed, only to find it remained empty. She sighed and struggled to rise. She’d already gained almost thirty pounds, an enormous load for her light frame, but the pregnancy had gone smoothly otherwise, so she could scarcely complain.

As she walked quietly down the hall to her daughter’s room, Sakai thought about how genuinely delighted Valen had been when she’d first told him about both of her pregnancies. He had backed up that enthusiasm so thoroughly as a parent that she hated to think how he must be tormented about leaving them now. It was funny, she thought, that she’d never really contemplated what Sinclair might have been like as a father. He’d allowed himself so little room for a personal life that she’d never considered the option of them having children together. It hardly seemed possible that Valen was the same man, for she had trouble imagining him not being a parent.

It was a good thing he enjoyed fathering so much; she laughed to herself, because Delenn was definitely a Daddy’s Girl, traipsing along behind Valen whenever she could. She was practically inseparable from him. A precocious child, she already had a mastery of all three Minbari languages that surpassed her mother’s, and it was obvious that her natural charm had made her at least as welcome among the Minbari as her paternity did. Delenn was a favorite visitor at all the Temples Valen frequented, and he often complained to Sakai about how hard it was to keep the priests from spoiling Delenn entirely. Sakai usually told him not to worry, that it was obviously Valen’s love and respect Delenn sought above everything else. Sometimes, she bemoaned to him, she wondered if she mattered to the child at all.

“Quiet now, you’ll wake your mother.”

Sakai was surprised but pleased to hear Valen’s voice as she reached the door to Delenn’s bedroom. She smiled to herself and decided to stay out of sight as Delenn responded to her father’s warning with another peal of laughter.
“Let’s do it again!” she cried, clapping her hands.
“No. It’s time for us to settle down, Delenn. I have something very important to talk to you about.”
“Once more, Daddy? Once more, please?” Delenn implored, and Sakai heard Valen’s sigh of resignation through the door.
“All right, but just once.”

Sakai decided she was better off not knowing exactly what feat of acrobatics the two were engaged in. As rough and tumble a woman as she was, Sakai still felt her maternal instincts kick into overdrive when Delenn and Valen played their dangerous games of “Starfury” or “orbiting planet.” Delenn squealed again in laughter, and Sakai had to cover her own mouth to remain silent at the sound of Valen’s low chuckle accompanying Delenn’s delight. Sakai thought she would never tire of his laugh.

“All right? Was that good? Now, come on – back into bed.”

Sakai crept closer and caught a glimpse of her husband carefully tucking their child under the covers. She wasn’t exactly certain why she was lurking in the hall, spying on the two. It just seemed that some father/daughter bonding was taking place and the mood shouldn’t be broken. After all, she thought sadly, who knows when we’ll see him again?

“Okay, you all set now?”

Delenn nodded seriously, still beaming at him. Valen had discarded his patterned silk coat, the one that marked him as Entil'Zha, and Sakai could see it lay at the foot of Delenn’s traditional, tilted Minbari bed, along with the Triluminary staff and his brown over-tunic. Looking mildly disheveled, Valen sat beside the bed, all in black, the sleeves of his turtleneck rolled back from his forearms. The room was dimly lit by a single pyramidal lamp on the nightstand behind Valen’s chair, but even in that light, Sakai could see the network of scars on his arms from his crucifixion three years before. She wasn’t looking forward to the day when Delenn asked for a mature explanation about how he’d been so marred.

“You’ve heard your mother and I talk about the Shadows from time to time, haven’t you, Delenn?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, playing with the end of her braided hair.
“And you know how the Anla’shok are fighting them in a big war, right?” Once more, Delenn nodded. “Can you tell me why we’re fighting the Shadows?”
“’Cause they’re bad!” she said, making a face, and then smiling as she looked to Valen for approval.
“Yes, but why are they bad, Delenn? Do you know what they do that makes them bad?”
“Mama says you’re going away and she cried,” Delenn offered abruptly. “And she told me not to tell you that she cried.” Sakai winced at Valen’s amused half-smile.
“Delenn,” he said, reaching over to stroke the back of his daughter’s head affectionately, “if your mother asks you not to tell me something, that means you aren’t supposed to tell me about it, okay? That means it’s a secret.”
“Oh,” Delenn replied in consternation, “I didn’t mean to be bad, Daddy,” she begged, as fat tears immediately rolled down her cheeks. Valen chuckled softly and wiped them away with his forefinger.
“Don’t cry, Delenn, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble, just remember that next time, all right? Good. Now, tell me why the Shadows are bad.”
“’Cause they don’t keep secrets?”
“Nooo,” Valen said slowly, as if considering the possibility himself. “How can I explain this to you? The Shadows and their allies are bad because they like to see other people fight and hurt each other,” he explained, remembering keenly that the child was only three. “They like it when people cry, and they don’t like it when people talk nicely to settle their disagreements. One of the bad things they do is to trick one group of people into thinking another group has done something wrong on purpose, like taking away or breaking something they care about, when really, it was the Shadows doing those things.”
“Like if I broke your big staff,” Delenn said, pointing at it, “and told you Mama did it?”
“Exactly. What do you think would happen then?”
“You would be angry at Mama,” she said seriously, “and make me go to bed early. And then, in the morning, you’d both smile happy and tell me you made up and everything was okay now.” Sakai snickered. That was pretty much the way their arguments went these days. Fortunately, Delenn was too young to have any inkling of just how her parents settled their disagreements, and even more fortunately, she’d never have a clue as to how they used to end their conflicts – by breaking up for two or three years, simmering in anger and self-righteousness, until somehow or another their paths would cross once more and … Okay, so things did still end the same way, but at least she and Valen had cut out that unpleasant middle part before they had furious sex in the living room.
“But what if your mother and I didn’t believe in settling things peacefully? What if when you told me that, I took out my denn’bok and called on the Warrior Caste, and we all formed an army together and came back here?” Delenn looked stricken, and Sakai was about to slide open the door as Valen shifted from his chair to the bed, where he held his daughter’s hands and bent down over her protectively. “That would never, ever happen, Delenn, right? This is just pretend. But you see how terrible that thought made you feel? That’s why I do have to take my army, the Anla’shok, and fight to stop the Shadows.” He put his arm around Delenn and held her closely. “Sometimes, even though it’s normally very, very bad to fight and kill people, we have to do it to prevent them from killing many more people, especially people who aren’t in an army and prepared to fight.” A distant look came into Valen’s eyes, and for a moment, he was talking more to himself than to his daughter. “It‘s not an easy thing to decide to do; fighting should never be an easy choice. Someday, when you are much older, I hope you’ll be able to understand the difference between fighting to preserve the peace and total warfare. I’ve known too many adults who had trouble grasping the concept.” He looked back down into her large, brown eyes. "Your mother was right, Delenn, I am leaving soon. But Delenn, it’s important that you know I’m going so that when you grow up, you’ll never have to worry about the Shadows. I love you and I’d much rather stay here with you and your mother.”
“So why don’t you?” Delenn asked, her lower lip beginning to quiver with emotion.
“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do because they’re important, Delenn. Many, many people are counting on me to go and to lead them. If I didn’t go now, I wouldn’t be who I am … I know that doesn’t make any sense to you now, but hopefully when you’re older, I’ll be able to explain it to you better. Meanwhile, know that I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Promise?”
“In Valen’s Name,” he swore, kissing her softly.
“How come everyone says that?” Delenn asked after a moment of thought.
“Because they know what I believe in and that I keep my promises.”
“And how do they know that?”
“Well …” Valen paused. How could he explain it all to a child, he thought, how do I leave all of the darkness and suffering and transformation and time travel out of it? “I’m Anla’shok Na, right? I lead the Rangers, and the Rangers are all people devoted to protecting people and bringing peace.”
“When do I get to be Anla’shok, Daddy?”
“Funny you should ask,” Valen smiled, reaching for his coat, “because I was just wondering today how much attention you’ve been paying my conversations. Can you tell me what three things the Rangers are supposed to practice?”
“That’s easy!” Delenn cried with excitement. “Delight, compassion and respect.”
“Very good, Delenn! Those are all correct! Now, can you tell me what that really means? How does an Anla’shok do those things?”
“Uhm, the first one means you play and look at neat stuff and laugh. And then you share things and listen. And you don’t do anything bad to make people yell or cry.” Valen smiled at her outright and pulled her against him in a fond squeeze.
“That was an excellent answer, Delenn! I’m so proud of you! Listen to me carefully, Delenn; I want to tell you something very, very important.” As he leaned down to whisper to Delenn, it seemed to Sakai, still peering at them from the hallway, that the child couldn’t possibly smile any harder than she was at that moment. “There’s nothing in the world you won’t be able to do when you grow up,” he said, as if he were telling her a tremendous secret. “I’m certain of it. Promise me you’ll never forget I told you that.” Delenn threw her small arms around his neck, then craned her neck to look at his hands.
“What’s in your hand?” she asked inquisitively, and Valen laughed.
“You don’t miss anything, do you? I’ll tell you in a second. First I want to know -- do you think you can do those three things we just talked about Anla’shok doing? Can I count on you to be a good girl and obey your mother while I’m away? Okay then. Remember about a week ago you were playing outside the Temple and found an isil’zha stone?” Delenn nodded while impatiently trying to pry open his curled fingers. Valen laughed again and cut to the chase. “Well, look at what I have for you!” He opened his hand and let her eager fingers snatch up the small replica he’d had made of the badge all Rangers wore – a gold and silver pin depicting a pair of hands cradling a blue-green gem in the middle. It wasn’t a real isil’zha of course; he was hardly about to draw a bowl of blood from his three-year-old daughter to be used in its ritual creation, but Delenn didn’t know the difference. Seeing what it was, she squealed in excitement and bounced up and down beside her father on the bed. Looking on, Sakai was suddenly seized with a burst of sadness. Somehow Valen’s gesture brought the reality of their parting to the forefront of her mind with tremendous force. As he pinned it on Delenn’s nightgown and tucked her back into bed, Sakai hurried back to her own room, desperately trying to hide her tears.

“Damn it, Sakai, get a hold of yourself,” she ordered herself. If there was one thing she hated about being pregnant, it was how it brought all her emotions so close to the surface. She was determined not to make leaving for the front any harder on Valen than she already knew it was, and she thought she’d done fairly well … except for when she’d tried to talk to Delenn about the topic. But at least she hadn’t let him see her cry. What would be the point of that?

She tried to convince herself that there was no need to worry, that they knew he’d won the Shadow War “before,” but Valen had been rightfully insistent in the years after the StarFire Wheel that they had to live their lives fully believing they had free will, that nothing in history was a certainty. As she’d seen, trying to live otherwise, trying to second-guess himself and “play” the part of Valen rather than simply living his life, had nearly cost Sinclair everything. So that left them both forced to believe now that he might not make it back, that winning the War wasn’t necessarily a given, and sometimes, such thoughts were too terrible for Sakai to bear. She’d already resigned herself to the likelihood that he’d be absent when their children were finally born, but to think that he might never see them at all, that he was telling Delenn all the things he wanted her to know, in case he was killed out there ….

Valen had the art of moving silently down pat, but there was a rubbing noise when their bedroom door slid open that alerted Sakai to his entrance. Her face buried in her pillow, she was debating whether or not to pretend to be asleep when he spoke.
“How long were you watching us?” he asked mischievously as he sat down on the bed behind her. Her voice muffled by the pillow, Sakai tried not to betray her emotions.
“How’d you know I was there?” she replied lightly, her back still turned to him.
“I’m Entil'Zha. It’s my job to know these things,” he joked. “Cath, are you ok?”
Sakai made a game attempt at laughing and rubbed her face across the pillow to dry her eyes before turning her head toward her husband.
“I’m fine. Delenn’s voice woke me up and I and went to check on her, saw you were there, and I didn’t want to interrupt … I thought I’d just come back to bed and hope you didn’t notice … my, this is a day full of awkward moments, isn’t it?”
“You’re too beautiful to ever be awkward,” Valen flattered her, reaching over to run a hand through her loose hair. She turned over onto her back and faced him directly.
“Always the diplomat!”
“Is that a complaint?”
“No,” she admitted with a smile. He leaned down to kiss her softly, then rose from their bed – a large, Human-style piece of furniture Valen had transferred over from Babylon 4 for her comfort.
“So you’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I said yes!”
“Good.” He sat down at the foot of the bed and started getting undressed. “Truth be told, I’m exhausted.” He moved off to the bathroom and Sakai closed her eyes, daydreaming to the sound of the shower. She had almost fallen asleep when she startled and awoke again to the sensation of Valen slipping into the bed beside her. She sighed happily, feeling his naked body pressed up against her, and opened her eyes. His were closed, but his face betrayed silent tension.
“Valen?”
“Hmm?”
“Something’s troubling you; I can tell. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t let me keep you up – you need your sleep.” Sakai sat up and leaned over him.
“Valen …” He opened his eyes wearily and sighed.
“I’m just thinking about some things from long, long ago, that’s all.” Shaking his head, he sat up as well and faced her with a chagrined expression. “Oh Jeez, Cath … I’ll give you one guess.”
“Oh no, don’t tell me … what in the world brought that to mind?”
“Kosh.”
“Kosh? When did you see Kosh?”
“This afternoon. I needed to talk to him about some logistics. For some reason, he’s adamant about staying on Minbar, but he had this crazy idea … well, he set me thinking about The Line again and …”
“What’s left for you to think about? It’s been almost twenty years … and he's already relived it with us before. Why the hell did he bring that up again?”
“Who knows why a Vorlon does anything?” Valen shifted uneasily in the bed. “Oh hell, Catherine, I just can't do this; I can't lie to you. Kosh doesn't want to stay here – I insisted he does, just in case, so I’d know for certain you and the kids will be safe while I’m away at the War. It was only because of that conversation that The Line came up at all.”
“You’re trying to comfort me by letting me know you don’t really have faith in me? That it was a lie when you said you had total confidence in my abilities?”
“No, no, Catherine, that isn’t what I’m trying to say at all … but it is what I was afraid you’d conclude … that’s why I started to lie about Kosh … Catherine, I trust and believe in you completely and utterly – it’s the Minbari I don’t trust! I’m living in a Minbari body now; I’m just enough like them to understand them – and that’s why I know I can’t fully trust them – not yet. The more time I spend here the more I find myself understanding how different the Minbari really are from us. It’s almost as if they’re hard-wired to resist change and nonconformity. I’d like to think we’ve made real progress in that area, but I just can’t leave here without knowing for sure. No one is going to challenge you or The Council if Kosh is here to back you up.” He pulled Sakai into his arms. “You can trust The Nine; they're different – they’re the most flexible people Minbari evolution has produced so far. They stood with me in the face of Fire and Death. But as to the rest … I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He finally released her from his arms and leaned back slightly so he could look directly into her eyes as he concluded. “Please tell me you understand now? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Sakai looked away for a moment, so Valen tried again. “From you, Satai Catherine, understanding is most definitely required.” Sakai brought her eyes back with a small giggle, her fury and fear dissolving at last. Almost instinctively, she found herself falling with ease into the role Valen had come to count upon her filling; the role of sounding board, of counter-point, of ballast against the coming storm.

“Well you sure as hell aren’t going to get ‘obedience’ out of me; that’s for sure!” she exclaimed, wiping the last of her tears from her face.
“I’m counting on that too,” he laughed. “But can we please get some sleep now?”
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Don’t ever try to keep the truth from me again. Give it to me straight up.” Valen smiled broadly at her.
“It’s a deal.”
“Well, good then,” Sakai deadpanned in imitation of him. Valen shook his head with another quiet laugh.
“Come here,” he ordered lightly, pulling her down against the bed. Sakai gave him a short kiss and turned over on her side with her back to him. He spooned himself around her, swept the hair from her face and closed his eyes. Catherine held one of his hands in her own, against her breast, and sighed, wishing they weren't both so tired. It seemed almost criminal to waste any of their remaining hours together on sleep.
“Valen?”
“Hmm?” His voice already sounded distant. Sakai hesitated and then decided not to bother him.
“I love you,” she offered. He sighed happily, but she could tell from the rhythm of his breathing that he had already fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

-4-

“What do you mean you can’t tell me if his name is on the list or not? We were living together when the War started; and I’m also an Earth Force Officer – I have a right to know!” Sakai was demanding angrily.
“I know how you must feel, Lieutenant Sakai, but you have to understand … record-keeping was not a priority here at EarthDome these last few weeks,” a weary-looking Informations Officer was informing Sakai with just the slightest impatience of her own. “Everyone who was here on Earth or Mars at the time and fit to fight reported in. After that, well…” The woman looked up and saw the desperation in Sakai’s eyes. “I’ll run another check and see what I can find out – but I can’t promise you anything.” Sakai nodded. “The name again?”
“Jeffrey David Sinclair. Lieutenant, Senior Grade. Starfury pilot and Squadron Leader,” Sakai repeated flatly, her heart pounding wildly as she watched the officer’s fingers fly across the keyboard. She blinked a few times and looked around the room aimlessly, trying to squelch her anxiety.

It had taken her nearly a week – five full days – to get back to Earth from the colony where she’d been transporting refugees. Her initial excitement over the Minbari surrender faded as soon as she realized she had no idea where Jeff was, or if he were alive or dead. Their contact with one another throughout the War had been sporadic, but since their brief reunion on Earth nearly eight months before, she’d lost track of him entirely. His occasional letters, filled with passion and hope for their future, often arrived out of sequence, and for security reasons, he’d never indicated in them where he was writing from. As a fighter pilot, that could be almost anyplace.

Earth Force had assigned Sakai to the unglamorous but essential task of shuttling desperate refugees to one colony or another as the Minbari closed in. Sakai had often wished Sinclair was with her. For as time and the Minbari fleet advanced, mercilessly, optimism gave way to fear, fear to despair, and finally, despair to naked desperation. If Sinclair were here, she often thought, he could make it all better. He’d offer up some salient quote from literature and revitalize her belief that somehow, Human civilization would survive. She had never known him to fail in expressing good cheer, firm faith and optimistic determination.

Now, somehow, without him at her side, the War had ended, and she’d survived after all. So where was Sinclair? Where had he been posted in the final hours of the War? Would she ever see him again? The answer, the wrong answer, appeared to be forthcoming when Sakai looked down and saw the grave expression on the other woman’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman began, “it appears I do have him on record, but … I’m so sorry,” she repeated, and Sakai felt her legs quivering. “According to this … he was deployed to lead our forces in … Alpha Squadron … the Battle of The Line.”

That was it then, Sakai thought, as she stumbled out into the hall, unable to bear any further conversation. She felt strange, dizzy, light-headed, and leaned against the wall for support. Until that moment, she’d been lucky – her other friends and relatives were all safe, and the Battle of The Line had assured that safety would last. Like every other Human being across the galaxy, Sakai had heard the President’s speech, giving thanks on behalf of Humanity to the selfless women and men of The Line. Nineteen thousand, eight hundred of them had given the full measure of their devotion in order to save mankind from utter extinction. Tears streamed down her face even as she smiled slightly. That was Jeff all right – brash, maybe even a bit reckless, but patriotic and driven. Yes, if he had to die, that was the way he would have wanted to go – out in front, in the enemy’s face and giving no quarter. Lost in her reveries, she never heard the Information Officer rushing into the corridor, but her breathless words registered;

“My God, Lieutenant – he’s one of the survivors!”

“Jeff?” she’d asked tentatively, coming up behind him in the formal gardens behind Earth Dome, soon after the ceremony concluded. It had been ages since she’d seen him in person, but there was no mistaking his broad, level shoulders, that perfect posterior. It seemed to her that no one else wore his Earth Force uniform as deliciously as Sinclair did.
“Catherine!” Sinclair exclaimed, rushing to embrace her. Sakai stared at him in shock, barely recognizing the face of the man who stood before her. His voice, though still deep and sonorous, betrayed a peculiar uncertainty. His hair remained lustrous, black, and perfectly trimmed; his sharp features were unmarred, unwrinkled, but there was something haunted in those deep-set eyes. He looked far, far older than his twenty-nine years. As he held her in his muscular arms, pulled her against the perfectly smooth front of his dress uniform, Sakai could feel Sinclair was shaking. He released her only to hold her out at arm’s length, stare at her with those newly troubled eyes and then hug her once again, but Sakai kept asking herself “who is this man? What happened to the young, wild and self-assured fighter pilot I knew?”

Sinclair apologized suddenly and removed a small box from his pocket, a lump she had hardly noticed in her shock over his appearance. He held it as though it weighed a thousand pounds. Sinclair opened the case and handed to her the freshly-minted, glittering medal the President had bestowed upon him moments earlier. As Sakai looked it over, she realized that she was in the presence of a true War hero and also of a man whom the War had irrevocably changed.

Sakai stirred in bed as she dreamed, abruptly aware of Valen’s hand cupped around her breast as they slept. The sensation took her back to their hotel after the ceremony. Sinclair had seemed to endure, rather than enjoy, the attentions of Earth Gov’s highest officials. Sakai watched him shaking hands, nodding thanks, acknowledging his promotion to Lieutenant-Commander as though it were a death sentence. What was going on with him, she wondered? Who was he? What did he want? Did they still have a future together?

They’d left the reception in silence, having exchanged no more than two or three sentences with each other. In the lift, the quiet between them was nightmarish and uncomfortable, and she briefly questioned why she was taking an apparent stranger up to her room. They walked the long hall in separate worlds, and when their hands brushed one against the other it seemed that small friction alone might set the air around them ablaze.

Sinclair had entered the room first, leaving Sakai to close the door behind them. He passed a coffee table, dropping the passkey to the room on it, and then threw open the curtains that concealed a wall of windows on the far side of the room. He stood frozen, apparently gazing out at the glittering night sky over Geneva. Stripping off the jacket to her own dress uniform and tossing it over a chair, Sakai came up behind him and was surprised to see that he wasn’t admiring the spectacular view after all, but examining the medallion in its opened case. She looked at it again; a circle of stars surrounding an image of the Earth, the words “In Gratitude and Memory” around the edges.
“The sky was full of stars,” he mumbled distantly.
“What?” she asked. Sinclair clapped the box shut and let it fall from his hands to the floor. Turning, he grabbed Sakai and almost snapped her neck with the fury of his kiss. She gasped in delight, the tension between them broken, and threw her arms around his neck as he spun her around, pressed her against the glass and tore open the front of her stiff white shirt.

In her dream Sakai remembered their violent lovemaking; passionate almost to the point of being painful, a contrast of urgency in the wake of hopelessness and fragility. They were young, they were in love, and yet they were both desperately aware of their mortality, clinging to one another as they never had before, for assurance that they were alive.

Sinclair’s eyelids flew open and Sakai met his gaze, finding herself watching that stranger again, the man who had greeted her in the garden behind the President’s house. In some ways, she realized, they weren’t connecting with each other at all. They were acting as though they still were familiar with one another; as if the War had never intervened, as if Sakai had even the slightest idea of what Sinclair had been through and was thinking, and vis versa. She reached to brush a wet curl from his face. Maybe, she foolishly imagined, they could drive all the troubles away that easily.

They entered the shower together, smiling, and Sinclair left the bathroom first to turn down the covers on the king-sized bed. It had been a long time since either of them had enjoyed such luxuries as a water shower and a real bed, and Sakai was glad she’d decided to surprise him and spring for the room. They’d settled in, briefly happy until the War inevitably entered the room.

“I’m accepting an honorable discharge,” she began.
“You’re leaving Earth Force?”
“I’ve had enough of following orders, of going where someone else tells me to go, doing what they tell me to do. I think I’m going to start my own business, Jeff. I figure I can capitalize on some of the connections I’ve made and raise enough money to buy a small survey ship.” She laid her head against his fuzzy chest. “But what about you, Lieutenant-Commander Sinclair? You’re the career officer type if there ever was one! Gotten new orders yet?” she asked innocently. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she regretted them, feeling Sinclair’s spine stiffen beneath her and his hand stop its idle course along her temples. She sat up straight and looked at him, frightened by the horribly distant look in his eyes. “Jeff?” she asked in concern. He tore his gaze away from the far wall to glance over at her, but only for a second. Then he looked away again with an expression of mingled fury and shame.
“They want me to resign,” he whispered in a dull monotone.
“What?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Why would they possibly …” He glanced at her again, then covered his eyes with one of his broad hands. As he ran his fingers into his hair, Sakai noticed something strange and leaned in for a closer look. She pulled his arm away from his head, studying his thick wrist. Sinclair tore away from her, clearly wanting to leap from the bed. “How did you get those scars, Jeff? What happened to you? What happened out there on The Line?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted in a whisper.
“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated, glowering at her from beneath his black eyebrows. “Damn it, Catherine, I don’t know.” It was to be the first of a hundred times they would discuss it, and perhaps the final time he was utterly honest about his feelings on the topic for a thousand years. “This whole month long – ever since the Minbari surrendered, I’ve been under investigation. Sure, they held a formal inquiry, cleared me of any wrongdoing, gave me a token promotion, but it’s all over for me, Catherine. No one’s going to be talking about me making Admiral any more, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t understand. What was it they were investigating?”
“I went unaccounted for … Earth Central doesn’t know where I was for twenty-four hours.”
“So where were you?” she asked, looking into his tortured eyes. Naked in more ways than one, Sinclair threw off the covers and stalked over to the window, studying the night sky.
“I don’t know,” he said once more. “I really don’t know.” He was silent for a space and Catherine waited, uncertain what to say or do. “There was a shadow and a flash of light … then … I shouldn’t be here at all, “ Sinclair whispered morosely, “none of us should be here.”
“What are you talking about? You held The Line …”
“The Line meant nothing, damn it!” he swore emphatically. “Nothing at all. We were beaten! We didn’t have a chance! There’s no reason why I should be here at all … no reason …” Catherine came up behind him again, just as she had in the garden, put her hands upon him and turned him around.
“Let me be your reason,” she offered with a naivete she would quickly lose, “let it be for me …”

Sakai awoke, aroused and a little saddened by the memories. One War, and now another, she thought. Then he was returning, now he’s going away. And always memories of The Line. Why do our lives seem to keep running in circles? Circles or maybe spirals, spinning outward but crossing through the same points time and again?

She looked over at her sleeping husband in the bluish moonlight that shone through the translucent outer walls of their house. Like Sinclair, she had also hated the Minbari for a long time, though not as fervently. It was incredible to be mother to one of them now, with another three on the way; to behold the blue-grey wings of fluted bone alongside Sinclair’s temples after revisiting his old face and form in her dreams and in the Triluminary’s light earlier that day. It was still odd to look at him, expecting to see his dark eyebrows and finding none; for indeed not a hair at all remained on his body. Some of the Minbari men she had encountered in the Twenty-Third Century had beards, but that, she realized now, was actually a Human trait – a legacy of her and of Sinclair.

Sakai turned on a small pyramidal lamp on her nightstand and studied his peaceful face further as he slept on, oblivious. His nose looked different, she decided; it seemed less sharp now that cartilage descended from his brows almost to his nostrils, and she still preferred his old ears to the smaller, less perfectly shaped and flat structures that lay against the bottom corner of his jaw. No more earlobes to nibble on, she thought wistfully. Most unearthly of all, however, were her own emotions. He lived in an altered body, it was true, but it was Sakai who was aroused by the sight of the frostwork design atop Valen’s scalp flushing a darker blue. He must be dreaming about sex too, she thought with amusement. I wonder if I’m the lucky woman?

She leaned over and watched him intently, saw his orbs rolling behind their lids in REM stage. Mischievously, she touched her lips to a knob at the edge of his bone crest, ran her tongue along its delicate velvet surface, then sat back and scrutinized the effect teasing that erogenous zone had on his blue cranial stain. Is he dreaming about seducing some Minbari woman with just such a gesture, she wondered? His scalp was turning still darker, and she tried to find a name to describe the precise hue.

The pattern itself looked like a Rorschach test; one of those random, symmetrical patterns of ink on paper that Humans had used in antediluvian days to supposedly divine the psychology of the viewer. And indeed, while the inkblot atop Valen’s head reflected the sexual nature of his dreams, wasn’t it really saying more about her? For she dreamt of him both ways – as Valen as well as Sinclair, though none of the other men on the planet interested her in the slightest. They were aliens, after all, and she was a Human with a normal Human appetite … wasn’t she? Maybe not. For now, didn’t running her fingers along the downy lines and whorls on Valen’s bone crest excite her as well as him? Didn’t she enjoy navigating the irregular blue chart that ran down from his navel? What did it mean that she found him as sexually attractive as a Minbari as he had been as a Human male? Maybe she was no longer entirely Human either.

She stood up quietly and pressed a button by the bedside. A panel of frosted, translucent material slid back from its position against the outer wall of the room. Behind it was the clear, rock crystal wall of the house and a small door into their private garden. Sakai found Valen’s Entil'Zha robe at the end of the bed and pulled it over her shoulders. She stepped outside, sighing as the cold autumn air struck her body. The paving stones were lightly coated with frost beneath her bare feet. She looked up at the sky. Dawn was still an hour or two away, and Minbar’s twin moons reflected the only light.

All at once, Sakai sensed another presence there, lowered her eyes, and discovered that she was not alone. Someone else was there. Kosh.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, immediately conscious of her near-nakedness. “What … what are you doing here?” The feelers on the collar of his encounter suit spiraled around, but Kosh said nothing. “What do you want?” Sakai asked with more insistence. The lens on Kosh’s encounter suit dialed rapidly down to a pinpoint, and she pulled the robe more tightly against her body in a primal response.
“Never ask that question,” the Vorlon replied menacingly.
“I … I’ll get Valen for you, she said hurriedly, moving backwards and stumbling on the folds of extra fabric at her feet.
“Unnecessary.”
“So what are you doing here?” Sakai asked further, pulling herself up straight in a false and feeble attempt to signal that she had no fear of him.
“Studying.”
“Studying? Studying what? Trees? Rocks? Flowers? You can find those all over Tuzanor – what are you studying here?” she probed skeptically. Kosh’s reply managed to frighten her after all.
“You,” he said. Sakai’s eyes grew wide and her perfectly arched eyebrows flew toward her hairline. Kosh simply stood there. Before she moved this time, Sakai looked down and gathered up the folds of cloth. By the time she’d lifted her eyes from the ground, Kosh, if he had ever been there at all, was gone.

“What are you doing standing out here in the cold?” Valen asked from behind her, awake again and drawing her against him as he led her back into the house.
“I saw … I thought I saw …” She caught a glimpse of the empty garden again as Valen closed the door. It seemed so ridiculous now.
“What? What did you see, Cath?” he asked with concern.
“Nothing. Never mind. I must have been dreaming.”
“Dreaming about what or who?”
“Well usually it's about one of these two guys I’ve been with.” Valen pretended to be taken aback.
“Is that so?” Sakai laughed and played with her hair.
“Yeah, they’re both around six feet tall, very dignified gentlemen with dark eyes, great muscular bodies … The only difference between them really is that one of them is totally bald and the other guy has a full head of wavy, dark brown hair!”
“Earth Force Officer? Always on duty? Never seems to have much to smile about?”
“That would be him.”
“I think I know him … lucky guy,” Valen laughed. “You can bet he’s smiling now!” he said throwing an arm around her tawny shoulders. “Come back to bed.”
“Wait!” she demanded, and obediently, he froze. “You aren’t going to be running off on me again today, are you? No more mysterious Grey Council meetings? No more tete-a-tetes with Kosh?”
“No,” he smiled, kissing her again, “I left this last day open for you and Delenn alone. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Until then … I’m yours.”

Chapter Text

-5-

“Watch, Daddy, watch! You’re not watching!”
“I’m watching, Delenn, I’m watching,” Valen called back with a smile as his young daughter ran away from him and across the open field at top speed. “She has no idea how intently I’m watching,” he mused quietly as he and Sakai followed slowly behind, walking hand in hand. “I keep wondering how much she’ll have changed by the time I get back …” Sakai glanced up at him with a melancholy expression on her own face. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about baby names? I mean, honestly, Cath, it’s not likely that I'll be back in time.”
“No. And no more sad talk today – we’ll have plenty of time for sadness after you go,” she said firmly, reaching her arm around Valen’s waist and giving him a squeeze, “but this is our last chance to be happy together, at least for a while. So let’s not spoil it.” Valen nodded remotely, still staring at Delenn’s receding figure. “Have I mentioned to you how great you look in civies?”
“Only five or six times so far today,” he laughed, with a sidelong glance. “I feel kind of naked though – I don’t think I’ve ever left the house without my coat, Isil’zha and denn’bok.”
“No you haven’t, “ Sakai agreed, “so thanks for indulging me this once.” She gave him another one-armed hug. “That’s far enough, Delenn,” she shouted, “come on back!”

They stopped walking and she studied Valen carefully as he paused beside her. He was wearing a pair of plain brown trousers under a long, golden-brown tunic and a heavy, quilted, and elaborately decorated full-length vest that had been the height of male Minbari fashion two years before, when she had bought the outfit for him. That morning he’d finally consented to put aside his Ranger uniform and wear it for her for the first time. “I’m surprised Delenn still recognizes you,” she teased, as he finally turned away from Delenn and faced her. “Promise me when the War is over I’ll get to see you like this a little more often?”

It seemed to Valen as he gazed adoringly at his wife, that she had never been more beautiful, and he had many years of memories with her for comparative purposes. With difficulty, he tried to calculate how old she was – they had both lost track of exactly how many Earth years had passed since she’d joined him on Minbar. A further complication was that he had spent nearly four Minbari years at War on B4 and then on the planet itself, before she’d emerged into the past. Sinclair had been four years older than Sakai when they’d first met at the Earth Force Academy; now it seemed that difference had doubled. So if he were about 49, give or take, that would make her 41? Just numbers, he thought, focusing on her again. Utterly meaningless numbers. There wasn’t a single grey hair on her head, and scarcely a line on her face.

“Sure,” he smiled. “After the War you can dress me however you want.” Long ago, when he had first consented to take command of the Rangers, Sinclair had argued with Ulkesh, insisting that his personal life wasn’t a distraction but the essential element that drove him on. As Valen, he’d repeated those words many times to the men and women who’d pledged themselves to The One; “Never forget the personal … the person who fights for his family and his home fights just long enough and just hard enough to win, without losing himself to the violence.” It was going to be so damn hard to leave Catherine and Delenn behind in the morning, but at least, he thought, he’d never, ever forget who and what he was fighting for. That was one problem already well resolved.

With Valen lost in contemplation, his daughter succeeded at something Valen hoped no one else would be able to do in the coming months – take him by surprise. She ran into him full-force, and as she struck he fell with her to the ground.

“Delenn!” he gasped, studying the child that lay on his chest with the intensity he had just been devoting to Sakai. Her clothes were crumpled and her hair had become unbraided, falling to her shoulders and neatly covering the small arc of bone that curved around the sides and back of her head. For a moment, Valen thought, she looked like the child of Sakai and Sinclair, two Humans.
“Did you see how fast I can run? Did you see?” she demanded, as Valen set her on her feet and picked himself up to the sound of Sakai’s spontaneous laughter.
“Yes, yes, I saw, Delenn! You run quickly. However you can also be a dangerous weapon! Whatever you do, don’t you ever run into your mother like that,” he finished sternly. Delenn nodded, enraptured as always by Valen’s words. “Hold on, “ he said more mildly, a crooked smile creeping across his face, “you’ve almost lost this …” He kneeled and fixed the clasp on her small Isil’zha. “There you are – go on,” he urged her with a quick pat to her back. Delenn smiled, fingered her pin and then took off again, racing toward the trees on the far side of the meadow. “Speaking of which,” Valen said, turning to Sakai as he rose and reached into his pocket. He took her right hand in his own and pressed something cold, hard and heavy into it. “Now you’ll have daily proof I’m alive and well, even while we’re apart.” Sakai looked down at the broach gravely; then hugged him for a long moment, reluctant to let go.
“I’ll give you mine to wear when we get home,” she promised quietly. “Thanks for remembering.”
“As if I could forget any request from you,” he murmured in his impossibly deep voice. Sakai smiled sadly, then looked out across the field.
“I can’t believe it’s been what, four cycles since you first brought me to this place? This whole field was full of white flowers,” she recalled with a sweep of her hand, “the perfume was almost overwhelming. The moons were full and it was so quiet, like there was no one else on the entire planet but us. And then we made love …” she blinked back sudden tears as Delenn made a wide turn and ran back toward them.
“We’ll have days like that again; I promise,” Valen assured her, leaning over to kiss her. Sakai looked up at him through watery eyes and stopped him with a hand to his lips.
“A week ago you reminded me to be certain of nothing – not to think that because history said you’d led the Forces of Light to victory that it would necessarily be true as we live it out now. And you also told me there’d be no dissembling between us any more.”
“I know,” he whispered, taking her hands in his own and spinning her wedding band around and around as he contemplated her fingers. “I haven’t forgotten; I’m telling you what I know to be true. There are no guarantees in life, that’s a fact. But I’ve done a lot of thinking in that week … If we believe something, Catherine, believe it in our hearts, believe it even when hope seems almost impossible … it will happen. A Centauri prophetess once told me what I related to The Grey Council yesterday – we create the future.” He smiled self-consciously at her uncertain expression. “So when I get back to Babylon 4, I intend to believe, every waking minute, that I’m going to defeat the Shadows. From my core, I’m going to act as though it's a foregone conclusion. As for us … even if I’m proven wrong and I don’t make it back from the War in this life, I know I’ll see you again in another place – at the end of Time. I know it because I know our souls are destined to travel together.” Sakai nodded and Valen kissed her forehead lightly. Abruptly, he spun around as Delenn, breathing hard, trotted to a halt a few feet away.
“Come here, my young Ranger,” he smiled, grabbing her up in his arms and depositing her on his shoulders. “I’m ready to head back home for lunch – how about you two?” Delenn cheered her approval as she seized hold of the flaring ridges of bone on either side of his head.
“Fix my hair!” she demanded of Sakai while pounding a small fist on Valen’s head for emphasis. He winced slightly. “Please,” she added belatedly, but before either parent could reprimand her. “Please fix my hair, mama!”
“Goodness, Delenn, what did you do to it?” Sakai asked in frustration as she tried to re-braid her daughter’s tangled locks.
“Ow!” Delenn cried, punching Valen again. This time he caught her fist in his hand before her blow struck his head. “Ow, you’re pulling on it! Ow! Hurts, mama!” she wailed.
“Wait until we get home then, Delenn, where I can brush it out,” Sakai said, drawing the black mass away from her child’s face and tying it into an uneven ponytail. “And don’t hit your father!” She took Valen’s arm and walked with him toward Tuzanor.
“How come only me and mama have stupid hair?” Delenn pouted. Valen lifted his brows and glanced out of the corner of his eye at Sakai. It had taken their child three full years to ask the first, inevitable question about her alien nature; unfortunately, they’d failed to use that time to ready their answers in advance.
“Well,” Valen began, “your mother isn’t Minbari, Delenn, she’s Human, and Humans have hair instead of bone crests. You have both because you’re special, because you come from the two of us.”
“What will the babies have?” she asked, and Valen and Sakai exchanged another glance – this one of relief. Luckily it seemed this would not be the day they’d have to lie to their child about where the other Humans were, how Sakai herself had ended up on Minbar and why Delenn had no other relatives. Someday perhaps, when she was far older, old enough to trust with the most secret of secrets, they’d tell Delenn and their other children the truth, about how Valen had been Human once, about how they’d both traveled through time and the sacrifices that each of them had made. But not now. For now, the only beings in the Universe who knew those things were Valen, Sakai, Kosh and The Nine. Those were enough.
“All babies are bald when they’re born, Delenn, just like you were. After that, we’ll have to wait and see what happens as they grow up – it’ll be a surprise.” He paused in his tracks as the city came into view. “And on the subject of surprises; Cath, would you mind a quick detour?”
“It’s not business, is it?” she asked with a falling heart.
“No, no. Not business. Duty, you might say, but not business.” Delenn cut in before he could continue to explain.
“You said we were going home to eat! You promised!”
“Oh, all right. I guess you don’t want to see someplace new any way …” That did it – Delenn was after all the daughter of two veteran explorers.
“Where? Where? Show me!”
“Please stop pounding on my head, Delenn, or this will be the last piggyback ride you’ll get. Thank you. We’re going to the little house your mother and I lived in before you were born.” Sakai half-smiled in understanding. So that was what he meant about “duty.” Their former residence was off-limits to everyone but the Worker Caste members who would tend the garden and dust the house over the next thousand years. Only Valen was permitted on the grounds, and he went there for but two reasons – to meditate on the most serious of decisions and to pay respects to his fallen comrade, Zathras. How like him, Sakai thought, to insist on visiting Zathras’ grave before returning to the station the two men had pulled through time. “There – you can see the stone wall around the garden now. See it? The blue wall?”
“No? Where? Where?”
“To the left – where all the tall trees are? See it now?” he asked, removing a steadying hand from around one of her ankles and pointing in the correct direction.
“That’s far” she complained.
“It’s hardly any distance at all,” Valen chided her, “and you can never get too much exercise – not if you want to be Anla’shok, anyway.”
“Put me down! Put me down!” Delenn demanded, racing ahead of her parents as soon as Valen complied. Valen laughed and Sakai punched him on the shoulder.
“You!” Sakai exclaimed with amusement. “You knew if you threw in that part about the Rangers, she’d insist on walking by herself, didn’t you?”
“I was getting really tired of her using my head as a drum set, “ he offered in defense, grinning broadly. “Besides, if she wears herself out now, she’ll nap all afternoon long and we’ll have a little time to ourselves.”
“An ulterior motive! You’re really devious, you know that, Valen?”
“G’Kar said that too, but he didn’t know the half of it!” Valen fell silent and swallowed hard. Sakai looked away from his face to see their old house across the street. Oblivious to their discomfort, Delenn was jumping up and down in excitement, trying to impress the Warrior who guarded the single gate.

“Entil'Zha,” the guard said, bowing and saluting Valen as he swung the door open upon Valen’s approach.
“Hold on, hold on!” Valen said, picking Delenn up under her arms before she could dash ahead. He set her back down beside him and knelt so that they were face-to-face. “That’s sacred ground in there, Delenn,” he warned her. “You can walk around carefully and admire everything, but no fooling around, no running or mischief, okay?”
“Like in Temple?”
“Exactly,” Valen replied gently. “Thank you, Drenar,” he said to the guard as he passed through the portal. Sakai wondered how he always knew everyone’s name. Didn’t Valen ever forget anything?
“Give me your hand, baby, “ Sakai instructed, trying to hide her own nervousness about returning to where she and Valen had lived, loved and struggled. Mostly, it seemed, they struggled. Twice their brief moments of happiness inside those walls had been interrupted by violent tragedy.
“What’s that? What’s that?” Delenn cried breathlessly, pointing to a brilliantly glowing spot beneath a small tree. It was the Hundred-Year-Stone Valen had placed on Zathras’ grave. Sakai eyed Valen, but his expression was completely uninformative, which related a message in itself.
“Come with me,” Sakai said to Delenn when Valen failed to reply. “I’ll show you around the house and then we can go look for crystal fish!”
“I want to go with Daddy,” Delenn insisted, leaning away from Sakai’s grasp.
“No. We need to leave him be for a while,” Sakai continued as Valen drifted over to the grave. He dropped to his knees and furtively made the sign of the Cross. “Come this way, Delenn.” Reluctantly, the child complied.

“Hello, Old Friend. It’s been a while … too long perhaps,” Valen whispered.
“But I haven’t forgotten.” Valen sighed to himself. History was so unfair. Zathras had been the most purely selfless person he’d ever known – a perfect example of what the Minbari termed a “True Seeker.” Back on Earth, the Church had canonized less worthy subjects. Zathras had lived and died with nary a word of protest or a demand or request for himself. Yet by the time the light from the stone on his grave dimmed, and Valen and Sakai had passed, Zathras would be forgotten, his name and face and deeds lost to the vagaries of time. Valen knew it had to be that way, knew that Zathras himself had understood. “We have a destiny,” Zathras had proclaimed aboard Babylon 4, and he was right. “Zathras probably have a sad death, but at least there's symmetry.” No matter how hard Valen tried to prevent the Minbari from doing so, he was destined to be deified and Zathras to be forgotten. What mattered was that what they had done together would last. Catherine too – she'd be deliberately erased from history. It galled Valen to know he’d receive all the credit for everything they'd done.

It had to add up somehow, Valen thought; God had to see to it that it did. Otherwise nothing he’d been taught by the Jesuits, nothing he had believed throughout his Human lifetime was true. It was difficult enough to maintain his faith in isolation, and he had no intention of losing it now. So there simply had to be some kind of cosmic justice; that was all there was to it.

He knelt there for a long time, praying and thinking. He still felt guilty, he concluded, for causing Zathras’ death. Yet Valen could almost hear Zathras chiding him for hanging onto that guilt; could imagine Zathras assuring him with equanimity that he went to his death willingly. Why, Valen wondered, did that only make him feel worse? How many good people would die working alongside him? He fingered coarse chunks of the glowing rocks from atop the grave. He sure as hell was going to fight to limit that number as much as he possibly could.

“Thank you again, Zathras. I won’t fail the Anla’shok the way I failed you; I swear it.” Valen rose from his knees slowly and dusted himself off. He sensed someone was watching him, turned, and saw Delenn staring in his direction instead of at whatever it was Sakai was trying to point out to her. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the duo. “Come here, Delenn,“ he called out.

Delenn looked to her mother for reassurance and Sakai looked to Valen, who waved them over. She let go of Delenn’s hand and the child flew off to her father. Even as she did so, Delenn recalled Valen’s earlier admonition and stopped running in mid-stride. She finished walking to him with exaggeratedly slow and deliberate steps. Despite himself, Valen laughed aloud, something he hadn’t imagined ever again doing in that place. Quickly reflecting upon his reaction, he decided Zathras would approve. Zathras and Delenn, he thought further, would have gotten along together wonderfully. For all of the grave responsibilities he had had, for all the terror he had seen and the cloud of unhappiness that had followed Sinclair, nothing negative really registered with Zathras. He had faced everything with the innocence of a child. He had perfect faith that somehow Sinclair, or the other Delenn, or Draal -- someone -- would work it all out, make things right. That was how he’d been able to greet his death with a smile. Valen had no further opportunity to reflect upon this revelation, however, because Delenn was beside him, brimming with excitement.

“Here, Delenn,” he greeted her, squatting down and pulling her against him with one broad hand. “A very dear and special friend of mine is buried here. I was just thinking to myself,” he continued, with a glance up at Sakai, “how much I wish he was here to meet you – you would have liked each other a lot. His name was Zathras.”
“That’s a funny name,” Delenn giggled.
“He was a funny man, so I suppose … ‘there’s symmetry.’ That was one of the things he liked to say.”
“What’s ‘symmetry?’” she asked, momentarily taking her eyes off the glowing red stones behind Valen’s feet.
“Symmetry means when two sides of something are the same. What Zathras meant when he said that was that somehow two things seemed to match up well, even though they were different …” Delenn was beginning to lose interest – he could see it in her eyes. Time for a visual aid. “This,” Valen said, bowing his head and pointing to the blue pattern of skin on his scalp, “this, that you like poking at so much, this is symmetrical. See how if you draw a line down the middle, both sides are alike?” With renewed attention, Delenn ran her fingers along the edges of the design with more concentration than usual. She covered one half with a small hand, and then the other. Satisfied, she dropped to her hands and knees and looked up into Valen’s eyes with a smile.
“Symmetrical,” she repeated with understanding. Valen grinned back, raised his head, and with another exchange of smiles – this time with Sakai – sat down on the grass atop Zathras’ grave and pulled Delenn into his lap.
“So, you wanted to know what this was, didn’t you?” He picked up a fragment of the Hundred-Year-Stone and offered it to her. Delenn snatched it up from his palm eagerly. “It’s called f’rnerm. It’s very rare, even rarer than isil’zha. When someone very special, with a very pure soul, dies, we mark the place where they’re buried with it. You take a large piece of f’rnerm and crush it. Then it’ll glow, just like this, for a hundred years.”
“It’s not hot,” she observed. “Why isn’t it hot if it glows?”
“That’s an excellent question, Delenn. Unfortunately, it’s one I can’t answer. Maybe over lunch your mother can explain it to us both – she’s the scientist. I’m just the Entil'Zha.” As Valen referred to Sakai’s skills, he looked up and became happily entangled in his wife’s eyes.
“Was he Anla’shok?” Delenn asked, bored by the abrupt silence and trying to regain her father’s attention.
“What?” Valen answered, lost for a moment.
“Was … Zathras,” Delenn giggled as she repeated the name, as though she had repeated a forbidden, “naughty” word. “Anla’shok?” Valen frowned slightly as he pondered the question.
“In some ways, no. He wasn’t Minbari, he wasn’t Human, so he was never trained as Anla’shok, but …”

The image of Zathras, the first time they’d met, in the conference room on Babylon 4, flashed into Valen’s mind. “You need this place as a base of operations in a war, is that it?” Sinclair had asked as Major Krantz stood dumbly beside him. Zathras nodded, pointed to Sinclair and made a series of strange clicking sounds Valen later grew to expect whenever Zathras was thinking. “Yes, yes,” Zathras had answered, “The One says we need, so we take. We live for The One; we would die for The One.” And so he had, Valen reflected remorsefully.

Valen opened his eyes and tilted his head to meet Delenn’s gaze.
“Zathras is the person who taught me what it meant to be a Ranger,” he began, nodding to himself as he worked the idea out. “Without him, there would be no Entil'Zha and no Anla’shok. I, I had to think about the answer, Delenn, because Zathras was such a paradox.” As Delenn accidentally jammed him in the ribs as she shifted in his lap, Valen remembered he was speaking to a small child. “There’s another big word for you, right? A paradox. He was, he was two completely different things at the same time.” He reached for and took Sakai’s hand as she sat down slowly beside him. “Zathras talked and complained constantly. He was a veritable tornado of words, and yet he never asked for anything for himself. He was small and strange and almost comical looking, but those who judged him by his appearance did so at their peril. He was always in a hurry, terribly clumsy, and yet he could fix absolutely anything. He was loyal, and brave. He always gave more than he received and I believe he liked it that way.” Valen closed his eyes and inhaled audibly. Sakai squeezed his hand empathetically while Delenn simply studied his face in anticipation of his next words. “Come, “ he said evenly, opening his eyes with a smile. “I’m pretty hungry – how about you?” Delenn nodded eagerly. “All right, then, home for lunch. But first, please put that back for Zathras, okay?”

Delenn jumped from his lap and looked from the stone in her chubby hand to its fellows on the ground. Carefully, she placed it down, then studied the arrangement of stones. She moved the bits around slightly and finally patted the ground in satisfaction. As Valen and Sakai stood up, Delenn looked to them proudly and asked;
“Symmetrical?” Valen managed a lopsided smile, but Sakai could see the skin around the corners of his eyes trembling as he bit back tears. He nodded and reached his hand out to Delenn.

Chapter Text

-6-

Sakai returned from the bathroom to find Valen and Delenn asleep on the living room couch. Valen was reclining along the length of the sofa, his back against the upholstered arm with a pair of pillows stuffed behind his head and neck. His new vestments were folded at the other end of the couch – once in the house it was never long before he stripped down to just his shirt and pants. At the moment, even his boots were on the floor beside Delenn’s diminutive shoes. Delenn herself was curled up on his chest sleeping in his embracing arms. Strands of her black hair floated on the breeze of Valen’s relaxed exhalations.

As Sakai stood in the doorway watching the pair at rest, she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. The day had passed so uneventfully and joyfully that it was beginning to hurt. Delenn had even behaved herself at lunch, challenged by Valen to clear her plate without a fuss. If Valen told her to do something, she did it. In that, Sakai reflected somewhat ruefully, she was all Minbari. Parenting seemed to come so much easier to Valen than it did for her – how was she going to manage without him? Especially, as she had remarked only days before, he seemed to have the extra measure of patience she felt she often lacked. She smiled to herself, recalling his response – that working with the various Ambassadors on Babylon 5 had afforded him numerous opportunities to hone that skill. Maybe that was part of the difference in how they each handled Delenn – Sinclair’s military career had taught him how to both give and take orders, whereas she’d spent years as a deep space surveyor, answerable on a daily basis to no one but herself. But that would mean that when she was being cantankerous, obstinate and willful, Delenn was most like Sakai …no, she didn’t like that comparison between her style and Sinclair’s at all.

She walked quietly into the room and sank into a chair with a sigh of relief. She’d been on her feet too much and her ankles were beginning to swell up. Pregnancy sucked.

“Cath? You okay?” Valen whispered from across the room. She began to rise again but he waved her down, then slowly lifted his arms from around Delenn so he could place a scroll book of Minbari children’s tales on the floor. He lowered his eyes to study their daughter’s peaceful face, then raised them with a smile to Sakai. “She’s completely asleep,” he observed.
“I thought you were too.”
“Maybe a little,” he murmured back, cautiously sitting up while Delenn remained limp and unawares in his strong arms. “I’ll put her to bed and be right back,” Valen concluded as he crept from the room.

Moments later, when he returned, Valen found that the day’s activities, coupled with their enormous and rather festive lunch, had done its work on Sakai as well. She looked up as he approached her, but her eyelids were drooping.

“I’d pick you up too, but I know how you hate that,” he grinned.
“Yes, I do.” Sakai replied, taking his former position on the couch, sprawling along it while Valen seated himself at the far end. She lay her head against his chest and kicked her shoes onto the existing pile on the floor.
“You want a backrub or anything?” he offered solicitously. Sakai shook her head.
“No, thanks. This is fine,” she observed with a sigh, “this has been a glorious day.”
“Mmm,” Valen agreed, closing his eyes and absently stroking her hair. “That was one hell of a meal, too. Mayan has certainly lived up to her reputation as a cook. We should give her a raise.”
“I hope you enjoyed your coffee, because that was the last of it.”
“The last …”
“Yup. The last pot. Ever. Decaf of course – we used up the regular beans last year.”
“Aw hell. No more coffee …” he pondered the situation. ‘Maybe after the War I should reenter the Sanctuary and amend my letter to myself: ‘Jeff, bring coffee!’” Sakai giggled.
“And more eggs,” she suggested.
“Bacon.”
“Hell, any meat! At least you and Delenn can eat Minbari meat. Thank goodness I can at least stomach the fish.”
“Onions. I can’t believe how much I miss onions,” Valen noted. “I mean, you wouldn’t think, right off, ‘if I had to go a lifetime without them, I’d really miss onions,’ but there are so many dishes you need them for. And there doesn’t seem to be anything similar growing on Minbar.”
“Or garlic either.”
“Mmm. Garlic. All right then, ‘Jeff, bring coffee, eggs, bacon …”
“Onions, garlic …”
“And a side of beef for Catherine! Not quite sure how I’d get all of that stuff past Zack in Security, though.”
“You’ll be Earth’s Ambassador to Minbar, remember? Diplomatic immunity. I don’t suppose anything’s left on Babylon 4?”
“No.” Valen paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Not at this point. Not with all of the soldiers and refugees we’ve shuttled through there in the last eight years. If it could be eaten, worn, or turned into munitions, it’s long gone. I imagine I’ll be savoring today’s lunch for quite some time …” Sakai struggled to sit upright beside him so she could look into his eyes.
“It’s a lot worse at the Station than you’ve been letting on, isn’t it, Jeff?” Valen nodded with his eyes.
“As of recently …” he sighed, almost in defeat, “yeah, it’s gotten pretty bad. I just didn’t want you to worry …” He glanced at the hand he had pressed against her round belly. “It’s not like you could change anything … I’ll be fine. Thank you, Catherine,” he intoned seriously.
“What in the world for?”
“For today. For all of this. For making me laugh, for being here, for keeping me from going crazy by driving me crazy …” His eyelids dropped as he gazed at her face, drunk with love. “For all of your support, and your advice, for Delenn and these three …” Valen ran his hands across her midriff and whispered directly into her ear. “Thank you,” he hushed, pressing his lips against her smooth skin. Sakai smiled.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, closing her eyes and leaning into his face. Valen traced the circumference of her ear with his lips and tongue, then down her exposed neck. Encouraged by Sakai’s sighs, he slid his hand up her body to softly encircle one of her generous breasts. Sakai moved to embrace him, then stopped at the distinct sound of an adult male clearing his throat – and it wasn’t Valen. They swiveled their heads in unison to discover one of their aides, Tadeer, standing in the front doorway, his head bowed and his hands firmly clasped in front of his body.
“Damn,” Valen muttered under his breath. “Tadeer?” he asked aloud, detaching himself from Sakai and rising to his feet.
“Entil'Zha,” the Minbari said apologetically, “Satai,” he added, revealing that despite his downcast eyes, he was well aware of Sakai’s presence. “I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion, Entil'Zha, but there is a Ranger here who insists upon seeing you. I inquired as to whether she was bringing news of the War, but she declined to answer. She simply says that she has traveled a great distance and will not leave unless and until she has spoken with you.” Valen frowned, then glanced at Sakai for her reaction. She shrugged, and Valen sighed, reaching around her for the clothes he had earlier discarded. “Very well then. Tell this Ranger …”
“Norenn, Entil'Zha.”
“Tell this Norenn that I will meet her in the garden for five minutes – no more.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha. Again, I apologize …”
“Please don’t, Tadeer. It is not you who chose this inopportune day to seek an audience with me. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.” Tadeer bowed and headed for the front door. Valen grumbled quietly as he sat back down to pull on his boots. “Sorry about this, Cath – I really planned on taking the day off – too much to hope for, I suppose.”
“It’s not a problem – really. And the day isn’t over yet …” she added, coyly squeezing his thigh. Valen looked over his shoulder at her, then bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Shall I meet you in the garden in oh, say, six minutes?” Valen laughed.
“No, I’ve dragged you around Minbar far too much today. I’ll make this quick and be right back.” He stood up and glanced around. “Where the hell is my coat?” he asked, referring to his brown robe with the Isil’zha that he wore whenever he was acting in an official capacity.
“Hanging by the door like it always does. Valen,” she called him back. “Do you think this is something important?” Valen paused; then shook his head and slowed his speech and movements down, realizing that his impatience had come across to Sakai as concern.
“No, no, I doubt it. I don’t even recall an Anla’shok by that name, and if it were serious tactical news, Marneer would have brought it to me. So I don’t know what this is about, but it’s probably not all that important. I’ll be back soon …”
“No hurry. I’ll go and check on Delenn and you can meet me in our bedroom when you’re done,” Sakai promised with a teasing grin.

Chapter Text

-7-

Allowing his curiosity to at last override his annoyance, Valen stepped outside and followed the short, tree-lined path into the heart of the compound’s garden. He unsuccessfully scanned the surroundings for his uninvited visitor, and found his frustration returning. The early evening’s sun glowed feebly and a cold wind blew his silky coat away from his body. Clouds were moving in and the air was crisp – soon the long winter would set in and Tuzanor would lie beneath a thick blanket of unrelieved snow. And instead of resting quietly under it with Sakai and Delenn, Valen thought, he’d be far away, enveloped by the frenzy of war. He glanced back at the house and contemplated the warm delights that were concealed therein, then frowned and strode purposefully along the path

Why was he even bothering to meet this person, he groused to himself. He had met with everyone important in the last few days; The Nine, the Council of Clan Elders, the High Priests ... no, don‘t think that way, Valen chided himself. How could he assume anyone wasn’t important simply because he didn’t know them or because they didn’t hold a position of authority? He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, even if it meant disrupting his evening. But where the hell was she?

The path led to a small outcropping of the same blue, crystalline rock from which the house and garden walls had been hewn. He’d had this rock partially hollowed out to serve as a playhouse for Delenn, fondly recalling the “secret” hideaways he and his brother Malcolm had played in as boys. Around it stood the bare shrubs, trees and flowerbeds of autumn, as well as his visitor. Valen could tell at a glance that she was not Anla’shok, but what she was and why she was there, he couldn’t immediately determine.

The woman in question was unusually tall, and the crest of bone on her head was carved in a particularly elaborate fashion. She was young and wore an astonishing amount of makeup that nevertheless well suited her features. For a moment, all Valen could focus on were her plum-colored lips. He realized later that they reminded him of Ambassador Delenn. Norenn wore a long, black robe not unlike one Sakai owned, and it was the only thing about her that even remotely evoked a Ranger’s presence. Perhaps that was why Tadeer had given credence to her claims – or perhaps Tadeer was simply more gullible, or more susceptible to a pretty face, than Valen would have thought. Something about the whole situation made Valen uncomfortable, yet he had no intention of letting this stranger know it, not in his own backyard. He squared his shoulders and stepped toward her, tossing the hood from off of his head.

“You are Norenn?” The woman nodded. “You wished to speak with me?” Valen asked, folding his arms across his chest impatiently.
“Entil'Zha!” she exclaimed, bowing so deeply she was practically kneeling before him. Chagrined, Valen shifted uneasily. Every time he was greeted with this kind of worshipful devotion – and it happened not infrequently -- it never failed to trouble him. I’m no one special, he always wanted to say; if you’d traveled back in time as I have, you’d seem prophetically wise too. There’s nothing exceptional about me.
“They say you are returning, alone, to the Great Station you brought for us,” Noreen continued, rising. As she did so, she moved a bit too far into Valen’s personal space for his comfort. But he resisted the urge to step away; there was no point in giving ground until he determined exactly what was going on. As he waited for Noreen to continue, he realized that she was done speaking. There was a long pause. She was good at this game, Valen reflected. At another time, he might have enjoyed playing it with her, but the day was waning. There were other things – one in particular – that he would definitely prefer to be doing just then, and so he conceded the point to her and decided to reply – just not with the kind of reply he thought she’d expect.
“You told my aide you were Anla’shok. That was a lie.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha. I will become one if you wish. But I knew you would not agree to see me otherwise.”
“That is not necessarily correct. But at any rate, I am here. And you are here because …” he prompted.
“It is the Calling of my Heart.” This was going nowhere. Valen mentally counted backwards from ten, trying to quell his frustration.
“I’ve granted you five minutes – that time is nearly up,” he observed as evenly as he could. Noreen leaned forward slightly and stared at him with an almost frightening intensity. “Is there something you have to tell me?” Valen demanded, a cold, hard edge creeping into his voice.
“I have come to serve you, Entil'Zha.”
“How?” Valen asked, regretting it as soon as he said it.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with thoughts of joining Catherine in the bedroom, he might have picked up on all of the signals he had missed. Maybe if hadn’t so thoroughly prepared himself to return to the war front, he wouldn’t have misinterpreted her silence as oppositional. But as it stood, he had completely missed out on the cues offered by her body language, including the darkening pattern atop her scalp, which he only noted after the fact. At any rate, Valen found himself the mortified recipient of an entirely unforeseen and unwanted embrace. Norenn wrapped herself around him, pressing her pelvis against his and seeking out the deep and sensitive grooves on the back of his bone crest with her fingers. Shocked, Valen froze for a moment before tearing himself away. In fact, he was so stunned by her actions that he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh, yell or cry.

“What are you … ” he gasped out before regaining his composure. “Why would you …” Valen eyed the artificial cave behind Norenn and his mortification turned to anger. “What were you thinking?”
“I, I …” Norenn stammered, and Valen realized she’d never even considered that he might refuse her. That struck him as rather pathetic. Was she just some terribly misguided, unstable young woman, caught up in a fantasy world of her own, or had someone else put her up to this; convinced her such an invitation would be warmly received? Had some clan or family leader he’d turned away from the Anla’shok intended to either buy his favor or stain his reputation with this proposition? Sadly, there were still quite a number of Minbari who considered Worker Caste members, particularly women, to be goods one offered to seal an alliance with. And she had spoken in the Worker Caste tongue.
“Who sent you?” Valen demanded as Norenn cringed in front of him. “Who sent you?” he repeated, his voice a menacing whisper. Beneath her tears, she mumbled something back. “What?” Norenn sank to the ground and Valen had to drop into a crouch to hear her.
“It was, it was my idea, the Calling of my Heart …” Valen shook his head.
“We’ve never met before – your heart cannot call you to someone you don’t know – certainly not to someone who belongs to another person entirely. You may have been willing, but someone must have encouraged you to come here, made you think I might be receptive to your … invitation. Furthermore, if you are not Anla’shok and not from Tuzanor, how did you know my itinerary? This house is like a hundred others – how did you know I live here, in this one? Who bought you those new clothes? Someone sent you Norenn; someone who doesn’t know me at all or care if you were hurt.” Valen lifted her to her feet and repeated his question once more, gently; “Who sent you?”
“A Vorlon,” she mouthed. Valen’s eyes widened.
“A Vorlon? Which Vorlon?” he exclaimed.
“I, I don’t know …” No, thought Valen, of course she wouldn’t. See one angel, seen them all.
“His encounter suit – what did it look like?” She started to shrug vacantly. “The color – what color was it?”
“Purplish?” she ventured. Valen drew his shoulders back and nodded to himself. That ruled out Kosh, he reflected with relief. Ulkesh? Could it be Ulkesh? In the future, Ulkesh had repeatedly tried to separate him from Catherine. When she was lost, he seemed as pleased as a Vorlon could be. If only he had more time before he had to leave, more time to explore and resolve this. But it appeared that Norenn would be his only resource.
“What did he tell you?”
“I, I will tell you, if you will grant your forgiveness, Chosen One,” she said, dropping to her knees again. Inwardly, Valen groaned. Bad enough to be “The One,” but to be the “Chosen One,” to have this woman kneeling before him as though he were an idol …
“Please get up, Norenn, and tell me what he said. Look, I over-reacted,” Noreen lifted her face, her eyes wide with shock and a protest forming on her lips. Valen offered her one of his half smiles and held out his hand. “I don’t expect you to disobey a Vorlon, although sometimes, as in this case, they don’t know as much as they would like you to think. So what did he say?” Noreen took his hand and let Valen pull her to her feet, but she hung her head even as she replied.
“He said, he said you had spent too much time among aliens. That you were not really married and should take a Minbari mate. He, he showed himself to me as the angel Deveri … he said that it was for me to free you from her grasp, that I would know what to do and that you would then put aside the alien and her children … I’m so sorry, Entil'Zha … I see now that was false … that I was being tested and have failed …”

Valen swallowed hard, ablaze with anger. It had to have been Ulkesh. But why? Why now, when he needed to concentrate on the War? Catherine had been at his side throughout his most productive years on Minbar – hell, huge portions of what the Minbari thought he had done were really the result of Sakai’s efforts. Kosh knew he’d appointed her to lead The Council and hadn’t protested, so that couldn’t be the problem. And despite his transformation, he and Sakai had proved to be almost astonishingly fertile together, so there was no question about Sinclair’s DNA getting into the Minbari gene pool as it needed to. What could Ulkesh possibly be trying to accomplish by targeting Sakai? And to use Norenn, manipulating her with religious imagery was cruel and immoral, to say the least. More than ever before, Valen questioned what the Vorlons’ real agenda was, and if he could trust them at all. As he pondered these puzzles, Norenn’s sobbing interrupted his thoughts.

“You say he revealed himself to you? Did others witness this as well? Where did this happen?”
“You will think me even more of a fool than you do now … I saw Deveri, I, I saw him in a dream … I was thinking of your teachings before I went to bed … I was, I was dreaming of meeting you, and …” In a dream. That was what Kosh had said he could do. It all fit together – except for Ulkesh’s motivation, which remained inexplicable. Valen glanced back at the house, where he could see the light on in his bedroom, then looked again at Norenn. He couldn’t very well leave her alone, feeling as she did. He sighed.
“Walk with me, Norenn,” he instructed softly.

Chapter Text

-8-

Sakai snapped into consciousness at the slight wave that rippled across the mattress when Valen sat down quietly on the opposite corner. Groggily, she sat up and looked at him.

“That was not five minutes,” she chided, and Valen closed his eyes briefly and shook his head with a rueful expression. “So was it something important after all? What did you learn from the Ranger?”
“That you are either married to the most clueless man on Minbar, or that you, old friend,” he murmured, tossing himself beside her on the bed, “are a first-rate sorcerer.”
“I’m not sure I like either of those choices,” Sakai replied with a grimace. “It seems to me I come off badly either way.”
“Well, Norenn was not a Ranger, but she did very much want to, as she put it, ‘serve’ the Entil'Zha …” Sakai frowned uncertainly. “But as I said, I’m either so unbelievably stupid, or so enraptured by your charms, that I didn’t catch her meaning until she started to demonstrate …” The proverbial light bulb went on over Sakai’s head.
“Are you telling me you spent the last forty-five minutes …”
“Walking around Tuzanor trying to convince a misguided Minbari female that there’s only one woman for The One, and she’s you? Yes,” he summated quickly.
“She made a pass at you?” Sakai cried in disbelief. “Right here? Outside our window?”
“Uh … yes. Is Delenn still asleep?”
“Yes, but don’t try to change the subject! You didn’t ‘catch her meaning?’ Why didn’t you look at the top of her head, for crying out loud? How much more obvious a clue could there be?”
“It just didn’t occur to me that anyone but you would want me in that way.”
“Earth to Valen! You’re the most powerful man on the planet and it doesn’t cross your mind that some women are turned on by power and fame? You’re right – you must be completely stupid!”
“I suspected you’d agree with me on that,” Valen laughed, looking over at her. “So is that what does it for you? Do power and fame compensate for stupidity and baldness?”
“Let’s just say that none of the other men on this planet have the balls to stand up to me,” she smiled slyly.
“But Catherine, Minbari men don’t have balls,” Valen observed with some puzzlement.
“Exactly my point!”
“So basically, I’m your choice of last resort?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Sakai replied coyly, reclining on her side and propping her head up on one hand. “But as for what just happened – you don’t honestly expect me to believe you’ve become that oblivious, do you?”
“You’re the only person on this entire planet for whom I’m just a man,” Valen reminded her, the playfulness leaving his voice. “It’s the curse of being a Name. The Minbari respect me, fear me, obey me, worship me, but none of can have a real relationship with me because they hold me in such esteem. It comes with the territory; I’ve had to resign myself to that. You’re my only friend, Cath; you may be the only one I’ll ever have” he said softly and sadly, before forcing a smile back on his face and making light of the situation. “So yeah, this is only the second time since I’ve been Valen that a woman – other than you – has expressed any sexual interest in me. At least so far as I know.”
“The second time?”
“Aw hell!” Valen exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “There I go saying something stupid again.”
“So who else tried to steal you away from me?”
“And can you have her address, right?” he laughed, then dropped his voice. “Don’t you think there’s something better we could be doing with our time than discussing the trail of broken hearts I’ve left behind?” Closing his eyes, he leaned over to kiss Sakai, who sat up at the last minute, giggling.
“Yeah, you can cut my hair,” she exclaimed, rising heavily to her feet and walking over to a cabinet. Valen fell over and buried his face in the mattress, laughing in frustration. “Here,” Sakai ordered, holding a pair of scissors out and waiting for him to sit up and accept them. “No one else here understands what hair is or how it’s supposed to look.” Valen took the scissors from her with a dubious expression.
“I’m not so sure this is a good idea; the last time I did this, you complained it was all wrong,” he protested. “I’d hate to get you angry with me just before I leave.”
“Well, don’t take so much off this time, and try to pay more attention so it comes out evenly,” she replied, undoing the intricate knot she bound her hair up in, and perching on the edge of the bed with her back to Valen. As her hair tumbled across her shoulders, Valen shook his head with a sigh.
“This is a problem,” he whispered to her, a fistful of her thick, black tresses in his hand; “how can you expect me to concentrate when you are in sole possession of the sexiest stuff on the planet, and you toss it right into my face? After, I might add, a total stranger gets me worked up?” As he expected, Sakai whirled around on him.
“You didn’t say anything before about being turned on by her,” she fretted.
“No, I didn’t, did I?” Valen observed archly, winding a strand of her hair between his fingers. “I said that I wasn’t interested, but of course that doesn’t mean she didn’t get a physical reaction out of me …”
“Oh! You! You are terrible!” She said, punching his shoulder. Valen chuckled happily at her. “So, come on, who was the other woman and when did it happen?”
“Hell, we can’t stop can we? We may as well go wake Delenn up and bring her in here, because I don’t think romance is in store for us tonight!”
“Oh no!” Sakai begged, giggling. “Don’t say that! Just tell me who she was and I’ll drop it; I promise.”
“No you won’t,” Valen laughed, setting down the scissors and moving to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. “It’ll just get us bantering back and forth even more and before we know it, it’ll be morning and I’ll have to leave.” Their eyes locked and a heavy, awkward silence fell across the pair.
“Well,” rejoined Sakai eventually, with false cheer, “that sobered us right up.”
“Yeah,” conceded Valen “I don’t think I’ve ever missed those extra four hours we’d have in an Earth day more than I do tonight,” he intoned solemnly, putting an arm around her.
“That’s why we’re being so silly, isn’t it? Why the day went by so much easier with Delenn around? We’ve both been afraid of what would surface if we let ourselves become serious.” Valen made a wry face and nodded. “I’m afraid, Valen,” Sakai burst out, “I’m never afraid and I don’t like it! But I’m afraid when we make love tonight it’ll be for the very last time; I’m afraid that even if you do make it back that this war will change you, scar you as bad as the last one did. I've never forgotten how you were when you came back from The Line – you were a stranger to me.”
“No, no,” Valen soothed her, “I’m a changed man …”
“But you aren’t – not really! You always let the weight of the world fall on you. That’s why you spent nearly an hour with that stupid woman just now, isn’t it? But when is enough enough?”
“I can handle it. In some ways I’m looking forward to it!” Without thinking about it, Valen drew his shoulders back and his spine stiffened, and Sakai saw something in his eyes she had once been positive she would never witness again. It was that gleam of confidence, of certitude Sinclair had radiated, long ago, before The Line. She was so startled by it that she sat transfixed beside him, unable to so much as nod as he continued to speak. “I know I can make a difference; effect change here in a way no one else can! The Earth-Minbari War, Catherine, was something else entirely. It was about vengeance and genocide and total war. There could be no winners. But this war, Cath, this war is about preserving life, about bringing peace and reshaping the galaxy. And I’m The One who’s going to see to it that’s what happens! Trust me – everything will turn out all right.” At last, Sakai nodded. But she was no longer certain she could read her husband at all. A moment ago, she had thought he was troubled, that he was hiding something. Now, he seemed so powerful, self-confident and resolute … had she been imagining it, or was Valen even better at concealing his emotions than Sinclair?

“Back to business,” Valen continued casually, “what’s with Delenn – is she going to want dinner, or is she set for the night?”
“I think it would take an earthquake to wake her up at this point.”
“Well, good! How about you then?”
“Everything I want is right here, Sakai said, reaching her arms out to him. “But are you certain there isn’t something else going on I need to know about?” Valen pulled back and looked askance at her.
“You just won’t let up on this, will you? Nothing happened – I’ve told you everything! Do you really think if something more went on with Norenn I would have admitted she made a play for me?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it, Valen! Of course I believe you about her – but I’m getting the sense that there's something else you aren’t telling me.” Valen smiled disarmingly. There was of course. Ulkesh.
“All right, you want to know about that other woman? I know I’m going to regret this … I honestly don’t know her name. It happened before I found you. I’d gone through the transformation over three years before and was desperately lonely. I was questioning who I was and how I was going to get through life pretending to be Valen. Then some young woman let me know she was … interested in me. I invited her in, realized what a terrible mistake I was making, and that was the end of it. All I did was kiss her, I swear. Satisfied?” Sakai studied his face dubiously.
“And you’re certain there’s nothing else on your mind?”
“Well, there’s something on my mind, but it involves you, me and maybe a long, relaxing bath … whatdya say? I think it’ll be easier to cut your hair if it’s wet anyway.”
“Okay, okay,” laughed Sakai, “and that does sound wonderful.”
“Good. Don’t go anywhere,” Valen instructed her, kissing the top of her head before walking to the bathroom.

While he was gone, Sakai paced around the bedroom and tried to figure out why she felt so certain that Valen was being less than honest – and about what. She did believe what he’d said had happened with Norenn, and she’d only been asking about the other Minbari woman to give him a hard time. If something more had gone on, Valen would have confessed it. So that wasn’t it, and yet the feeling just wouldn’t go away. Neither would the uneasiness she felt about Kosh's remark about observing her. Should she tell Valen about it or had she just imagined it?

She stared through the translucent walls of the house into the moonlit garden. So dark already, she observed with surprise. Where had the time gone? Why was she wasting even a minute of it doubting Valen?

“All set,” Valen announced, coming up behind her. She looked into his eyes again and saw nothing there but love. We’re just nervous about him going to war, she told herself, taking his hand.

Entering the room with Valen, Sakai broke out into a wide smile. He had to have been planing this all day, because the deep tub was ringed with candles and Sakai’s favorite incense filled the air.
“When and how did you arrange all this?”
“I have my ways,” he smiled. “Before you get in though, here – I have something for you.” He handed her a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Sakai gave him a questioning look, but Valen only lowered his eyes and waited for her to undo the package. She opened it and beamed in delight. Inside was a small block of chocolate. “I hope it isn’t too stale,” he apologized.
“You told me we’d eaten all the chocolate what, two years ago? I never dreamed I’d get to taste it again!”
“Well, I was saving this for a special occasion, and tonight I decided this was it. That is the last of it, though.” Sakai hugged him.
“Thank you, Valen. I don’t know how chocolate didn’t end up on our ‘list’ earlier! But here – get it out of this room before the steam melts it – we’ll eat it later.”
“You’re sure?” She nodded happily and began to undress as Valen took the treasure from the room. Reminders of their lives in the Twenty-Third Century were becoming scarcer all the time. Once Valen returned, Sakai held his hand and descended into the bath with a contented sigh, seating herself on one of the lower steps.
“Is it true the Minbari are starting to use some kind of new chemical on their bodies instead of bathing?” she asked him.
“Apparently so,” Valen remarked as he shucked his own clothes and slipped into the water beside her. “But you won’t find me using it anytime soon – it smells like the inside of a methane-breather’s toilet!” Sakai wrinkled her nose and laughed.
“In that case, I’m glad you’re an old-fashioned kind of guy!”
“Careful; I may quote you on that!” Valen warned with a grin.
“This is just what I needed,” Sakai continued, stretching her limbs out in the steamy water. “I can’t wait to have these babies – I’m tired of lugging all this extra weight around.”
“Still, you wear it well,” Valen assured her admiringly, and planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Sakai closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the water rise up to her chin and pull the long hair away from her head. Valen took her hand as his own lids dropped half-closed and he lazily contemplated one of the flickering candles. “You know how sometimes you aren’t really asleep, but your mind starts to paint dreams for you?” he mused. Sakai hummed an affirmative reply. “After I read Delenn to sleep today – when you stepped out of the room? I had the oddest dream. I dreamt my father was there, telling me he was proud of the way I’d turned out, even if I’d done more than a few things he’d never imagined for me. It was so strange, Cath; I haven’t thought about my Dad in ages, and yet I could hear his deep, mellow voice as if he were right there in the room with me. I imagined him wearing his Earth Force dress uniform – gosh, as a boy I loved to play with the tasseled trim on the shoulders and I was fascinated by those colorful metal bars on his chest.”
“You have too thought about him recently – when we were talking about explaining to Delenn why you were leaving. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course – that must be what brought him to mind. Hmm. I got such a good look at him today, in my mind’s eye,” Valen continued, his own low-pitched voice reverberating off the walls of the darkened bath. “He was tall, strong as iron, with shoulders I swear you could use as a level for construction work! He wore his hair extremely short – the old, razored, military cut. Great chiseled features and the same weird, steel-grey eyes Malcolm inherited. He was the best, Cath; it’s funny how until I imagined him this afternoon, I’d kind of been feeling, deep inside, like I’d betrayed him and Mom …”
“Why in the world would you say that?” Sakai asked, sitting up abruptly and sending a wave across the bath that jumped the far lip and extinguished one of the candles Valen had set out. “You followed so closely in his footsteps – as a pilot, as a career officer … you were probably the most loyal and honorable officer Earth Force had since your Dad’s day …”
“Yeah, well … look at me, Cath.” Valen gestured at his head. “I call myself Valen, the Minbari Not Born of Minbari, as though I sprang one day, fully formed, from some god’s head. I’ve essentially denied my mother and father; I left my brother and Garibaldi behind without even saying goodbye; I have children who will never even hear of their grandparents … those are certainly not things my parents raised me to do.”
“But it’s why you’ve done all of these things that matters, Valen, and you know it! What did your Dad ‘say’ to you in your imaginary conversation today?”
“He told me I’d done the right things, but it’s been so long …” Valen uttered a brief laugh. “In my dream he sounded more like Kosh than he did my father.”
“Psychologically, that makes sense,” Sakai said, sitting up slowly and reaching for a block of soap. “You’re the ‘deep thinker’ – don’t tell me you haven’t reflected on how much you’re a product of Kosh’s influence.”
“Well, of course the Vorlons want to think they can control me, just as they’ve manipulated the Minbari over the centuries, but you and I know that simply isn’t true.” Sakai stopped scrubbing and looked over at him dubiously.
“Are you sure about that, Valen? Haven’t the Vorlons figured prominently in every revelation you’ve had? Who told the Minbari to insist that you were given command of Babylon 5? Didn’t Kosh keep teasing you with hints and clues while you were there? Didn’t he have Delenn on a string all that time, using her to guide you?”
“I wish you would stop talking about Delenn that way,” Valen began, almost hotly. “After all of these years, I’d think you’d understand what she meant to me a bit better.”
“I know what you say she means to you, but I’m just wondering how much of that was according to some plan of the Vorlons …”
“Do I need to remind you who takes orders from who around here? Kosh does what I ask, not the other way around. Pass me your shampoo and I’ll wash your hair for you.”
“Here,” she said, dropping the argument. “I hope the rest of our kids take after you in the bald and bone-headed department …” Now it was Valen’s turn to send visual daggers her way. “Because since Delenn was born, I’ve been going through this stuff at a prodigious rate!”
“I'll see if I can't make the time on Babylon 4 to check the quartermaster's for more,” Valen said as he gently poured handfuls of water over the top of Sakai’s head. He dripped some shampoo onto her head and began working it through her hair with great attention. “It's not like the Minbari are going to use it.”
“Mmm,” Sakai sighed, closing her eyes as he massaged her scalp. “Let’s not talk about War, even incidentally, for the rest of the night, okay?”
“Fair enough,” he whispered with a smile. Sakai ducked forward to rinse out her hair, then leaned into Valen's outstretched arm.
“Why would the Minbari ever want to give up this wonderful sensation?” she asked almost rhetorically as she kicked up little splashes with her toes.
“Oh, it’s no different than the way things worked back on Earth; someone comes up with an invention and the simple fact that it’s new and different becomes a selling point. Plus there’s something vaguely masochistic about the stuff – not only does it smell horrible, but it apparently peels off the whole outer layer of your skin rather than simply washing away dirt. I’m sure that’ll appeal to the Warrior Caste! All the posturing that bunch does …”
“Not that you Earth Force types ever got into that sort of thing, right?” Sakai teased, reaching her own arm around Valen’s neck and idly rubbing the velvet fuzz on his bone crest.
“Among the ground-pounders maybe, but that kind of macho histrionics usually got folks killed before they advanced very far in the ranks. It certainly did you no good if you were a fighter pilot. Anyway, I’m talking about some really weird, torturous stuff; they've got this one custom where …” Sakai worked her fingertips into one of the deep grooves at the back of his head and Valen closed his eyes and gasped. “God, it makes me crazy when you do that, Cath!” he groaned appreciatively, his mouth dropping open as he struggled for air.
“Oh. Okay, I can stop,” Sakai teased him, removing her hand from his head. “Tell me more about the perverse rituals of the Warrior Caste.”
“The hell … with the Warrior Caste,” Valen panted, feeling his scalp racing through various shades of blue. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t move.
“What about cutting my hair?” Valen rolled his eyes and struggled to regain enough control to kiss her.
“Later,” he mumbled under his breath, “much, much later …”

Chapter Text

-9-

Valen stood over Sakai’s sleeping form, taking a final look before he left the bedroom. He brushed the hair away from her face one more time, before he tucked a note into her half-closed hand and quietly placed his Grey Council staff with the Triluminary atop it on his now-empty side of the bed. As he had told her, he had banished all thoughts of negative consequences from his mind; he would return; triumphant, but somehow that belief made his departure no easier.

Holding a small bag of extra clothes and toiletries in one hand, he hesitated in the doorway. The room was already turning violet from the sunrise that leaked through the blue walls. He should have left an hour or so earlier, but he’d been too happy to move, holding Sakai against him and watching her sleep. Valen sighed, then threw his shoulders back into his customary military posture as he slid the bedroom door open a few inches, crept through it, and entered the hall. One might not be able to run out of time, for, as Zathras had noted, time was infinite, but that wasn’t true for the beings who inhabited it. If he didn’t get himself out of the house now, Valen realized, he never would.

There was, of course, another stop he had to make, this one even more emotionally difficult. Catherine would be Catherine whenever he returned, but every day he was gone would be another in which Delenn would grow up that much more. He tiptoed into his daughter’s room and walked over to her traditional, tilted bed. Hers was an interior room, so only the dim glow of the nightlight on the table beside the bed lit the space.

Valen smiled at her; even though she was so small and slept with her thumb in her mouth, and despite the small, semi-circular bone on her head, she looked so much like her mother … Would he be back before it was time for her first bone carving? Would she be teaching her now unborn brothers or sisters prayers and mischief when he saw her again? One thing was certain, and he clung to it for strength; she would not grow up in fear of Shadows. He could promise them both that.

Valen stretched out his hand to pull the covers over her slender shoulders and as he did so, Delenn pulled the thumb from her mouth and spoke.
“Daddy?” Valen frowned in surprise and looked closer at her – her eyes were still closed. Talking in her sleep, he supposed with a smile. Sorry about that, kiddo, you can blame that trait on me.
“Yes, Delenn. It’s me. Are you going to be a good and brave little Ranger for me?” he murmured in his softest, lowest voice.
“Mmm-hmm. I love you, Daddy,” she replied, still to all appearances asleep.
“I love you too.” He kissed her once on the forehead and then dragged himself from the room. Back in the hall, he retrieved his things and moved quickly through the house to the front door.

“Entil'Zha!” A quiet voice hissed at him. He turned; it was Mayan. “For the journey,” she said, pressing a small package into his hands. Valen smiled and bowed to her. He could smell her fragrant flarn through the warm wrapping. It seemed that no one but Delenn had slept much that night.
“Thank you, Mayan,” he said sincerely, then gazed past her for a moment. “They’re all yours now – take good care of them for me?”
“Always, Entil'Zha. With my heart and my hands.” She reached over to the hook by the door and took down Valen’s patterned coat with Catherine’s isil’zha pinned to it as his other assistant, Tadeer, approached. Valen considered taking him aside privately for a moment and reproving him for the incident with Norenn, but then changed his mind. Tadeer held his things while Valen donned the coat. This was it. Valen nodded to them in turn, pulled the hood over his head, and stepped outside. He had chosen Marneer to fill the role Zathras and Catherine had taken in turn, as his aide, and the young Minbari would no doubt be waiting for him at the Ranger base with his transport. Despite the lateness of the hour, Valen decided to walk there. What he’d failed to anticipate was that just outside the gate of his home, a final delay awaited him. Kosh was there, his gold encounter suit gleaming in the cold, cold morning air.

“You wished to speak with me?” Kosh chimed. Valen’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes, but how …”
“Why?” Quick and to the point as always, Valen thought.
“Walk with me Kosh; I’m running late.”
“Yes.”
“Look, I know that Ulkesh wants Catherine out of my life. That is not going to happen. Why is he trying to separate us?” The music rose from Kosh’s suit.
“The arrow must not be deflected.” That again? Valen thought with exasperation. For the two Vorlons it was the first time around on this issue, but Valen had been through this before, as Sinclair, and his answer and anger remained the same.
“Kosh, I'm on my way to Babylon 4 right now. Catherine is why the arrow is en route to the target; she’s the fletching that’s keeping me on course. I thought you understood that by now – so make it clear to Ulkesh … or the arrow just might turn around and strike the archer! Do I make myself clear?” The aperture on Kosh’s suit dialed open and closed. “I don’t want him anywhere near my family, nor any of his little agents either!” Valen whirled on Kosh abruptly and the Vorlon stopped awkwardly, with what Valen hoped was surprise. “In fact, I would like Ulkesh Naranek to join me on Babylon 4, while you remain here as we’d agreed and support Catherine and The Nine.” Valen paused to let Kosh take this all in. “These are not requests, Kosh; these are my demands. If they are not going to be met, you better tell me now.” Valen concluded lowly. Kosh nodded his slow assent. “Good. I think I’ll make better time if I proceed from here alone. That will be all,” he said as remotely and as much like a Vorlon as he could. The two bowed warily at one another, and Valen headed off through Tuzanor at a fast walk.

Chapter Text

-10-

Catherine awoke; sensing that Valen was gone even before she opened her eyes. The irony of their situation was not lost on her. For fifteen years, the two of them had spent more time apart; bleeding from mutually inflicted wounds, than they had together. The ten years between the Earth-Minbari War and the assassination of President Santiago – what could have been youthful days of peace – they’d squandered on arguments and stubbornness and anger. Now that they’d finally learned how to open up to each other, to work together instead of in opposition, the Universe saw fit to separate them. But he’s certainly not generating any bad karma in this lifetime; she mused, so it must be me.

Sakai opened her eyes and was startled to see the Triluminary staff on the bed beside her. This, she thought, is the strangest bedfellow I’ve ever woken up to. Sakai looked at the thick sheet of paper folded in her right hand. She struggled to sit up in bed and opened the letter carefully. Valen’s neat, angular handwriting leapt out at her.

Dearest Catherine,

Looks like our timing is still awful – I only hope I can make this all up to you later, after the War. Meanwhile, it’s my task to handle the Shadows, and yours to keep an eye out and prevent any of the old caste conflicts from re-splintering the Minbari.

Never forget, Cath, that even if they’re in opposition to you, the Minbari are motivated by a sense of honor and a desire to do whatever they believe is best for their race as a whole. Use that against them if you have to. Remember too that they revere the Vorlons almost as gods – you can use that for leverage as well by reminding them of what transpired at the StarFire Wheel, and how you were as much a part of it as I.

I know you hate it when I tell you what to do … but I’m going to do it anyway. Call The Nine together – soon – and feel them out. If you need a confidant, you can trust Braoon – I’ve come to respect him greatly over the years. As for the rest, the Worker Caste remains almost disturbingly compliant; the Religious Caste will do virtually anything if you can point to a spiritual lesson in your reasoning; and the Warrior Caste … well, you can check my notes in the office computer for details on who to trust, who to look out for, the various feuds and disputes the War’s put on hold. Don’t forget I specifically asked Kosh to stay behind to help take all this weight off of you anyway. Yes, I know – I worry too much. Damn, I miss you already.

All of my love,
Jeff

Sakai blinked through a haze of tears at his signature and smiled faintly, for it was clearly a letter from Jeff, not Valen. His candid admission of how much he relied upon her and of the uneasiness he felt about his ability to manipulate the Minbari; the excitement he felt at the prospect of making a difference, a real difference, one that mattered … all of those were the qualities of the old Jeff Sinclair she knew and loved. Yes, since his self-immolation in the StarFire Wheel, he had healthily integrated both sides of his person, but now she realized he occasionally felt the need to escape from the authority that marked him as Valen. Sometimes, just as she had foolishly longed to see him with hair on his head and his old nose, sometimes he too wanted to be nothing but Human. In an odd way, she found that more comforting than any of the specific, practical and loving things he’d had to say.

But still, a suspicion lingered with her that Valen was holding something back.
It wasn’t for another hour, while she was helping Delenn get dressed, that she remembered his impromptu meeting with Norenn. Perhaps that had been significant, and he’d made up the story about being propositioned to conceal the truth?

Chapter Text

-11-

“You wished to see me, Satai?” Tadeer asked, entering the living room where Catherine and Delenn were sitting together. Sakai set a scroll-book down on the couch beside her as she rose. She’d been trying to interest Delenn in a story, but Delenn was stubbornly silent and unresponsive.
“Yes,” she said before turning to her daughter. “Delenn, why don’t you go in the kitchen and see if Mayan has any tim’fa fruit for you? Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“I want Daddy,” she wailed; her first words all morning.
“He only left a little while ago, baby; you can’t possibly miss him that much already!” Sakai exclaimed. Why not, she thought to herself, I do. “Go on – you love fresh fruit, and with winter coming, there won’t be any for a while.” Delenn pouted mutely and Sakai could see another question about Valen’s whereabouts forming in her small head. Meanwhile, Tadeer was hovering beside her, waiting for instructions. “Go on,” she urged, and finally Delenn slid from the couch and dragged herself out of the room. “Thank you for waiting so patiently, Tadeer.” She cast another glance in Delenn’s direction. “She’s taking Valen’s departure pretty hard.”
“Aren’t we all?” he answered, but in such a way that it almost sounded like an accusation. Catherine was startled by his tone – she wasn’t close to Tadeer; in fact, the only Minbari besides Valen and Delenn she did feel she had a genuine relationship with was Mayan, and that was based largely on their mutual devotion to Delenn’s needs. But until now, she’d never considered the possibility that Tadeer, a man who had lived in their household for almost three years, was among the many Minbari who still felt Valen’s bond with her was anathema. Unless she was over-reacting again; pregnancy was doing a number on her emotionally.
“Yes. I need to send word to Yedor – I wish to convene The Grey Council tomorrow afternoon.” Tadeer hesitated and Sakai stared steadily at him. “Is there a problem, Tadeer?” she asked, an edge in her voice.
“I am afraid I do not understand, Satai.” No. She wasn’t over-reacting – there was resentment, disapproval in his voice. Valen had left only hours before, and already, it had begun … did he have any idea of how deeply the hatred of her ran? Sakai herself had few illusions about the Minbari, yet she was shocked to find it festering under her own roof. Great. Now I not only need the young women Mayan has lined up to move in once the babies are born, it seems I need to find a new aide too! Biting back her anger, Catherine recalled how Valen had dealt with this response from The Nine. She folded her arms across her chest and drew her shoulders back.
“Understanding is not required of you, Tadeer; only obedience.” It worked like a charm. Tadeer went pale, then bowed to her submissively.
“Yes, Satai, I beg your forgiveness, Satai.” He raised his eyes to her but without lifting his head. “Will there be anything else, Satai?” Catherine shook her head and he began to back out of the room. He was nearly to the door when she called him back.
“Tadeer?”
“Yes, Satai?”
“A woman who called herself a Ranger came to see Valen yesterday – do you know anything about her?”
“No, Satai; nothing more than I told the Entil'Zha at the time. I, I believe they had some sort of … significant exchange as the Entil'Zha met with her far longer than he said he’d intended to … but surely you would be more familiar with the particulars than I, Satai?”
“Yes,” Catherine replied slowly, “yes. But that was not my question, was it? Exactly who is she? What Caste? What Clan? Do you know where I might find her? Where she is staying?”
“I, I can make inquiries …”
“Good. Please do so. If possible, I would like to arrange a meeting with her tomorrow as well.” She hesitated, working out her next words carefully. “Thank you, Tadeer. I know Valen has always had full confidence in your abilities, so I am certain you will be able to gather this information for me.” She eyed him carefully. Had she made him as nervous as she was herself?

Chapter Text

-12-

Sakai studied her reflection in the gleaming temple walls as an acolyte helped her pull the enormous, cowled vestments of The Grey Council over her head. It covered the black, turtle-necked, long-sleeved robes she’d already donned so that only her arms were revealed from beneath the massive layers of fabric. For the first time in months, she thought, I don’t look like I’m carrying a small transport ship in my womb! I should dress like this more often.

What a strange figure I cut in these, she thought, her mind turning serious. Strange both visually and historically! Here a Minbari religious figure is dressing me, and yet in a thousand years, a similar person – perhaps this woman’s own descendent – will hold the life of the entire Human race, and Jeff’s life in particular – in their hands. Will they be among the Minbari who’ll tear Sinclair out of his ship and bind him to the bar so the Warrior Caste can torture him? Will they watch, gleeful to see him suffering? Will they throw a few blows too, it being a Holy War, after all? She felt her face flush involuntarily with anger, and she quickly pulled the charcoal hood over her face so the acolyte beside her couldn’t see her expression.

How does he do it, she wondered? How does he wear these clothes, hold this staff, enter that huge room with the ten spotlights with anything other than dread, fear and a desire for revenge? From what source does he draw the requisite compassion, the selflessness? He’s a far better Buddhist than I am; that’s for sure.

Her eyes cast down at her feet, Sakai followed the acolyte from the antechamber. All too soon, she stood before the door to the Council chamber. Her hands suddenly felt clammy, and Sakai readjusted her grip on the Triluminary Staff before entering.

“I am Grey,” she announced with false bravado, “I stand between the Darkness and the Light.” On cue, the brilliant spotlight above her turned on. She felt her knees shaking slightly and reproved herself silently. It’s just a business meeting, Sakai! All right, a business meeting with some pretty fancy trappings, but a business meeting nonetheless. You’ve faced Megacorp reps, government officials, teeps and contractors – you can handle The Nine. “We are Grey,” she continued, hoping she’d remember the next set of words as she came to them. “We stand between the Candle and the Star. I call forth The Nine.”

A series of low, electronic grumbles followed as the other lights turned on in order. Through the coarse weave of the hood, she could just make out the shapes of the Minbari who were stepping into place around her. She swallowed hard.

“We do this in testimony to The One, who will bring death couched in the promise of new life and renewal disguised as defeat.” That’s enough, she thought, pulling the hood from her face and spreading it across her shoulders. She squinted slightly in the glare. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” she began, unable to maintain the cold façade of ritual and authority any longer. “I thought … I thought that with Valen away, it would be good for us to meet … honestly and openly.” Sakai turned to her right to face another anonymous grey figure. “I know that Valen’s decision to have me lead you was not easy to accept. I want you to know that he did not consult me about his plans, for if he had, I too would have protested. I realize that for many Minbari, simply the sight of me, pregnant with Valen’s children, speaks not of our shared destiny, but of the ancient taboo which we violated.” She turned again, pacing out a minute circle as she continued to speak. “No doubt some of you still feel … discomfort about this as well. Frankly, it would be a relief if you decided to lift this burden from me. I called you here today to give you that option.”

“If another had spoken those words, Satai, I would have taken them as an insult of the highest order,” one of The Nine began, removing the hood from his head. From the style in which he’d carved his bone crest, Sakai could tell he was one of the Warrior Caste representatives. “But I fear we gave you reason to so doubt us.”
“Valen leads us even in his absence,” another figure said, uncovering his face as well. “We vowed to follow him into Fire, into Storm, into Darkness, even into Death. Where Valen points, we follow. He pointed to you. It is as simple as that.”
“Nothing is that simple,” Sakai replied, trying another route around all the rhetoric. “Where Valen is an idealist, a romantic, I’m a realist. He believes that we are all capable of being better and nobler than we truly are. I don't believe there is any shame in acknowledging that the truth is often more complicated than that. The truth in this case is that the Minbari people perceive me as Valen’s single weakness.”
“Then is it not your task … and ours,” began another man, and Sakai turned and saw it was Braoon, “to teach them otherwise?” She smiled faintly. No wonder Valen spoke so highly of him.
“Someday, I hope, yes,” she answered, “not so much for myself as for my children. But we have other, more pressing matters before us now. We must make certain the people do not lose faith during the Darkness that is to come. How they feel about me is unimportant when compared to that mission, and I will not allow my presence to jeopardize it.”
“But when Valen speaks to us of those things, Satai Catherine, he speaks also of you,” Rathmer interjected, uncovering his head as well. “He speaks of your children and of the generations to come. He says that the souls of our race and of yours are co-mingled and that one day the Minbari will need those things which only your people can teach us. If we care about the salvation of our race then we must overlook any boundaries it might seem Valen has crossed …”
“Forgive me, Satai Rathmer, for speaking so directly,” interrupted the priest Nermer, “but you are wrong. We must not overlook the boundaries the Chosen One has crossed, but heed them. For we all saw him,” he continued, gesturing at the circle of figures, “he appeared as a man of Satai Catherine’s race. The Entil'Zha is the bridge between worlds. He is Grey … we are Grey. Therefore we must do as he says.”

Sakai listened to the dispute spiral around her with astonishment. This was not at all the direction in which she had expected the meeting to go. Was that the real reason Valen had instructed her to meet with The Nine at once? To reassure her he had not left her alone and among enemies? She heard her name being spoken again and realized someone was addressing her. It was the third member of the Religious Caste.

“Before you bore Valen his daughter, he said your children were the future. How can you question our willingness to obey your will, when you are the vessel of Minbar’s destiny?” the woman asked, almost rhetorically.
“Oh my,” Sakai exhaled softly, leaning into the staff as a wave of dizziness struck her.
“Satai?” Braoon exclaimed with concern, starting toward her. Catherine waved him off.
“No. No,” she said, straightening up. “I’m fine. Really … I simply … I did not expect this level of support. Not after …” Braoon hung his head.
“We were surprised,” he apologized. “And we beg your forgiveness for the manner in which that surprise was at first expressed. Often Valen’s revelations take us to places, to understandings, that we did not anticipate. It would seem,” he concluded, smiling kindly, “that you are also familiar with this sacred mystery?” Sakai dodged the question and the accompanying religious implications.
“Did you meet and discuss these matters in my absence?”
“No,” another voice replied. “We meditated – separately – upon Valen’s words. They brought us each to the same conclusion. As we would follow him, we will follow you. The Council, The Castes, Minbar. The Truth points to itself, does it not, Satai?” Catherine felt her eyes watering and blinked rapidly, fighting to conceal her emotions. She’d come to the chamber expecting a fight; believing she would have to defend her own powers of leadership and intelligence; thinking The Nine had sought only to placate Valen when they pledged to follow her in his absence. Instead, she was discovering The Grey Council’s devotion to Valen and his ideas was in some ways stronger than her own.
“I, I don’t know what to say …”
“Then say nothing, Satai,” Braoon instructed, “and by your silence we can conclude that we all understand one another. Unless there is another matter you needed to instruct us about?” Dumbstruck, Sakai shook her head no as she blew out a long, hard breath.
“Thank you,” she said after a brief pause. “Thank you all for your loyalty to Valen and your kind words to me. They have meant more to me than you will ever know.” Her tone brightened. “With any luck, things here at home will remain relatively peaceful, and we will not have to meet again for quite some time.” She bowed her head to each group of three Satai in turn, then thumped the staff on the floor and the lights went out. The meeting was over; the Council filed from the room. Had Sakai remained in the hall a moment longer, however, she might have overheard a further conversation that was conducted in the blackness, accompanied by thin strains of discordant music:

“As was feared.”
“He taught them well.”
“Too well.”
“Perhaps.”
“Certainty is now required.”
“Studying.”
“Unacceptable. Answers.”
“They are mere pebbles.”
“Even a pebble can alter a stream.”
“And of Valen?”
“Tell him not.”
“He will know.”
“Irrelevant. Arrange an Inquisitor.”
“Another way.”
“No. The river must run its proper course. There can be no doubt. Go. Now.”
“Yes.”

Chapter Text

-13-

“We will rendezvous with our armed escort in eight hours, Entil'Zha,” Marneer stated, lifting his eyes from the display panel and stealing a glimpse of Valen’s face. Before Valen could turn away from the window, where he’d been gazing blankly at the red glow of hyperspace, Marneer had lowered his eyes again.
“I did not request such an escort,” Valen noted.
“No, Entil'Zha, but Derann insisted upon it and I dared not argue with him.” Valen nodded absently. Marneer was a lowly member of the Worker Caste, while Derann, whom Valen had left in charge of the Station, was Shai Alyt of the Night Walker Warrior Clan. Despite Valen’s hopes, those distinctions were still made, even among the Anla’shok. “If you wish, I will send a message in your Name and …”
“No, no. That’ll be fine, Marneer, thank you.” Valen smiled and re-addressed his young companion in a more casual tone. “Truth is, I’d rather be part of that escort and flying a Starfury again.” He paused wistfully. “Not that you aren’t a fine traveling companion …”
“It is most gracious of you to say so, Entil'Zha …”
“Gracious?” Valen laughed. “Hell, no! Just honest.” He regarded the other Minbari carefully. Marneer had pivoted his chair in Valen’s direction, but all Valen could see was the blue top of Marneer’s head; his face was aimed at the floor of the shuttle. “Do you mind if I ask you a question, Marneer?”
“I am yours, Entil'Zha – body, mind and soul. You may ask anything of me and I will obey.” Valen winced slightly – a reaction Marneer of course didn’t see.
“Well, then. What I do I have to say to get you to look me in the eye, Marneer?” Marneer raised his eyes, though not his face, then quickly lowered them again.
“It is … disrespectful, Chosen One. I …”
”Yes, yes,” Valen cut in dismissively. “I know you mean well, Marneer, but … look, if you really want to help me, we need to work together. I can’t have an aide who’s afraid to look at me, or, for that matter, to speak to me with brutal honesty. Marneer, look at me,” he ordered impatiently. “Marneer, despite my … prophetic gifts, I’m just a man; nothing more. I make mistakes – good God, I make mistakes! Ask Catherine to catalog them sometime! I’m not a god or an angel, I’m not infallible, I’m a man. In the morning, I wake up, crawl out of bed, and go take a leak like everyone else, all right? What I need from you most is for you to acknowledge that – and not let me forget it!”
“What you are asking, Entil'Zha, I …”
“Valen. When we’re alone, just call me Valen. All I’m asking is for you to talk to the Anla’shok Na as you would to any other Ranger.“ Valen smiled disarmingly at his disconcerted comrade.
“Yes, Entil … Valen.”
“And I’d like to get to know you better, Marneer. So, as an old friend of mine said on a very similar trip, long, long ago, ‘not every conversation has to be about the end of the world as we know it.’ Ask me a question about something. Something not so serious.” Valen noted Marneer’s dubious expression. “All right then, I’ll go first. Are you married, Marneer? Do you have a family back on Minbar?”
“No, Entil'Zha, I mean, no, Valen. No. There was a woman I was interested in, but after our second night together she said she did not like what she saw and forbade me to contact her again.”
“Ah. Seems I’ve heard that myself on more than one occasion,” Valen noted wryly. “Did you look yourself, Marneer? Was she right?”
“I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Did you try to see yourself through her eyes – try to see what troubled her? I lost so many years, Marneer, so many years when I could have been with Catherine, if only I’d been unafraid to confront my inner darkness. Don’t hide from your heart, Marneer. Don’t be afraid to feel what you’re really feeling; for a long time, I was. The way I ended up hurting Catherine and myself because of it … it’s one of the very few real regrets in my life.”
“Satai Catherine means a great deal to you, doesn’t she, Entil'Zha?”
“Everything, Marneer; everything.”
“You said I may ask you a question?”
“Yes – please – whatever you wish.”
“Then how, how and where did you meet her? Where did you both come from?” Valen burst out laughing.
“Congratulations, Marneer! I knew I’d made the right choice when I selected you to be my aide – now I have the proof! Straight to the heart of things – no dancing around the edges for you, eh?” Instead of smiling back, Marneer suddenly regretted his impulsiveness and shrank into his chair. Valen pretended not to notice. “Would that my answer could be as simple! Catherine and I have known each other for what seems like forever. As for how we got here … we came from the End, to return to the Beginning. And I’m afraid that circular response is the most straight-forward answer I can give you, Marneer.”
“I, I do not understand.”
“No, nor should you. But it doesn’t matter – it’s enough that we are here.” Valen sighed. “If only she were here. Leaving our home yesterday was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Leaving Catherine behind was tough, and leaving my daughter …”
“I have a sister,” Marneer offered, opening up at last. “She is also just a child. When I answered your call, Entil'Zha, when I left home to join the Anla’shok … I think sometimes that, well, that I am not here to protect Minbar, or to save the lives of innocents on other worlds whom the Shadows would enslave or murder, or any of the other great things you have spoken to us of. I think,” he confessed, “I think I am really here for her. Is that wrong, Entil'Zha? Is there something you can teach me so that I might rise above such personal concerns, as you have done?”
“I hope not,” Valen assured him seriously. “As long as your personal ties don't hold you back, I think that fighting for those you love is the best motivation of all. It shields us against the potential excesses of war, even as it drives us relentlessly forward. Our thoughts of them remind us to be compassionate, even to our enemies. I have no fear of death, Marneer, because I know that you Anla’shok would continue to fight for me, for Catherine and my cause, and resist the Darkness, even if I were to fall.”
“As always, your words are true, Entil … Valen. But I, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I am afraid of dying. I meant my oath; I will live for The One and die for The One, but the prospect of death frightens me.”
“And before you came into my service, what was your occupation?”
“I was a farmer, Valen.”
“Well, Marneer, I’ve faced death so many times in the course of my journeys that he’s become, if not exactly an old friend, a familiar visage. Death and I are on a first name basis. I hope that you will live a long and healthy life in which you may never be able to say the same. That is my dream, Marneer; I dream of thirty generations who will know no war and become ill-acquainted with unnatural death.”
“When I hear you speak such words, Valen, it is almost as though you have already seen it happen, and I believe you whole-heartedly. I believe your dream will be a reality. And I know I will do all that I can to make it so.” Valen clasped a friendly hand on Marneer’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Marneer. I am grateful for your efforts. I think we shall make a good team, you and I. Now, tell me about your farm, and of your sister.”

Chapter Text

-14-

The first thing Sakai saw as she left The Grey Council’s palace was the multicolored glow of Valen’s Sacred Window. She remembered the pride with which he’d first shown it to her and smiled. It was on that same day she first told him she was pregnant with Delenn; the very day her identity was exposed to the Minbari. Enough years had passed since the torture that had ensued for him and the threat of death that had hung over them both that she could think more about the joy he’d expressed that day and the love they had made before being discovered. It was strange how things had worked themselves out from there – not unlike how this day had gone, in its own, obviously less life-threatening way. She had mentally prepared herself for the worst, and yet in the end … The things we put ourselves through, she laughed softly to herself. It's almost frightening how well Valen knows me, but what he knows about me … she felt strangely deflated by the realization. He never questioned anything she told him; and yet when he – and The Council – assured her she’d have their support, she didn’t believe it. She was the only person on the planet -- perhaps in the galaxy -- who didn’t immediately and unconditionally accept Valen’s words without hesitation. He knows it, she considered further, eyeing the six waterfalls that surrounded the Window, and yet he loves me anyway. I really don’t deserve him, she observed sadly. The least I can do is take this lesson to heart … funny how all these years since the Academy, he’s still teaching me new things – and I’m still resisting his instructional methods!

Her eyes fell upon another sight. It was Tadeer, who was pacing along the sidewalk, apparently waiting for her to emerge from the palace. He saw her and ran to her side.

“Greetings, Satai,” he said, bowing politely, but just hearing his voice put Sakai on her guard again. “I trust your meeting went smoothly?” Before she could reply, he continued. “On that other matter … I was able to contact Norenn. She agreed to join us here, but I have not seen her.” He glanced around, and Sakai did so as well, even though she had no idea what the woman looked like.

Sakai again considered The Grey Council’s response and decided it was time she took Valen’s word on something at face value. If he said Norenn wasn’t a Ranger but a sex-starved fan who’d come seeking him out of her own accord, then there really was nothing Sakai could learn by interrogating her. There was no point in embarrassing Norenn, especially when Catherine was in the best position of all to understand what drew Norenn to Valen! If she hadn’t come to see Valen the day before he left, Sakai probably wouldn’t have heard about the encounter at all. No harm had been done – she might as well drop the whole thing.

“It doesn’t matter, Tadeer,” Sakai replied, “I think I have all the answers I need now anyway. Thank you for trying to arrange a meeting anyway.” Tadeer studied her closely and Sakai shifted uneasily. No doubt he’s making unfavorable comparisons between me and the woman Valen rebuffed, she thought bitterly.
“You look fatigued, Satai. The Entil'Zha warned us you might well over-tax yourself – come, I will fly you home.”
“Even when he’s not here, he’s still trying to control me, hmm?” Sakai observed with a small laugh. Tadeer, not unexpectedly, leapt to Valen’s defense.
“He also predicted you would make some such remark,” he said, guiding her down the steps and toward a waiting ship. “Although it puzzles me as to why you would interpret the Entil'Zha’s concern for you as an attempt to ‘control’ your behavior. Surely you of all people should understand his motives …” Before Catherine could admonish him against prying into her relationship with Valen, Tadeer pointed to a figure approaching the Sacred Window. “I believe that is her! With your permission, Satai, I will inform her that you no longer require her presence.” Sakai glanced over at the tall figure, dressed in black, who knelt at the foot of the structure, and found her natural curiosity was peaked. She might as well get a good look at what Valen had turned down – it would give her more ammunition to tease him with when she saw him again.
“Well, since she’s here, I may as well talk to her,” she told Tadeer. He bowed his head slightly and the two walked over to the base of the Window. Norenn looked up and saw Sakai, naturally recognizing at once who she had to be. She began to wail.

The winter wind was blowing in their direction, augmenting the roar from the waterfalls that ringed the Window. Sakai leaned down and tried to speak over the rushing water and Norenn’s crying.

“Norenn?” she shouted, “I’m Catherine Sakai – Valen’s wife?” That was stupid, she thought to herself; who else would I be? Delenn and I are the only ones with hair on the whole planet! “Please get up! I just wanted to ask you a quick …” The Minbari pulled herself to her knees. She’s beautiful, Sakai noted with irrational surprise.
“I beg your forgiveness for the grievous insult I have made against you,” Norenn declared loudly, her voice trembling. “I, I did not think … I, I thought only to please the Chosen One … he said he forgave me, but when your servant sent for me, I realized it was you I dishonored …” Sakai squirmed uncomfortably.
“Norenn, it’s not that big …”
“There is only one way I can correct those wrongs …” Norenn continued, oblivious to Sakai’s attempts at consolation. She rose to her feet abruptly, and Sakai caught a brief glimmer of something metallic in Norenn’s hand.
“Satai! Look out!” Tadeer cried in alarm, pulling Sakai to the ground and covering her with his body. Norenn, rather than advancing, turned the blade on herself.
“No!” Sakai exclaimed, struggling to escape Tadeer’s protective grasp. “Don’t do it! It doesn’t …”
“Please – forgive me!” Norenn wailed, jamming the knife between her own ribs. She staggered backwards as blood began to pour from the wound.
“No!” Sakai cried in shock, breaking free from Tadeer and racing forward toward the bleeding woman. “No!” Norenn glanced over her shoulder at the long, long drop to the raging river below. She looked again at Sakai and then very deliberately, flung herself into the chasm. Sakai and Tadeer peered over the cliff in time to see Norenn’s body disappear into the foamy waters. “No,” she whispered as Tadeer dragged her back to safer footing. Her confusion, terror and disbelief quickly transmuted into rage and she grabbed him suddenly by the lapels of his vest. “Why didn’t you try to stop her? Why did you keep me from stopping her?” Tadeer stared back with wide-eyed mystification.
“Valen entrusted your safety to me … I, I thought only to protect you,” he murmured apologetically, casting his eyes downward. “I saw she was in an irrational state, I saw the knife and feared she meant to harm you … I didn’t realize …”

Sakai blinked at him in nauseous dismay as the enormity of her errors began to register. As if in a trance, she stumbled over to a bench cut from rock crystal and slumped down onto it, putting her back to the Window and the falls. In one day, she had misjudged everyone – Valen, The Nine, Tadeer and Norenn. She had acted upon the most foolish suspicions, voiced her distrust of everyone, and now Norenn was dead as a result. She felt like she was going to retch, and doubled-over in distress. Tadeer hurried to her.

“Satai Catherine! Are you all right? Did I hurt you? Should I get a doctor?”
“No, no, it’s not that, it’s …” Sakai looked up at the Minbari through hazy eyes. “This is all my fault – if I hadn’t been so distrustful and paranoid … Valen told me it was nothing, that Norenn,” she swallowed hard and lowered her voice, “Norenn had only come to proposition him; it was nothing, but I, I couldn’t leave well enough alone! I assumed there had to be something more to it than that … I didn’t take his word about The Nine, I thought you wanted me out of the way, I …”
“In Valen's Name!” Tadeer interjected, “What did I do to give you such an impression?” Sakai could tell that beneath his apologetic tone, he was deeply wounded – rightfully so, she now realized. “I have worked in your home for over two cycles – did you think I did not see the joy you brought the Entil'Zha? It is true that at first it was difficult for us to accept … until I came to know you …”
“Please,” Sakai cried, dropping her face into her hands, “it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t her fault, I, I’ve been an idiot … Valen left Minbar in my hands and within a day of his departure, I’ve already killed someone!”
“Do not say that, Satai! She chose to do violence to herself! Come, let me take you home …”
“What about her? We can’t just walk off as if nothing has happened! Someone will have to be notified – her family or clan – what do we tell them?” Tadeer grunted and sat down on the edge of the bench as he considered the situation.
“This is a problem,” he admitted. “There are those who have only heard Valen’s words from afar, who have not met you … those too who resent Minbar’s role at the forefront of the War. It is possible that this … incident … might be misinterpreted, be seen as a consequence of Valen’s break with the old traditions …”
“Oh my God,” Sakai moaned in realization. “What have I done? Have I undermined Valen?”
“The story must be told in such a way that you do not figure into it at all. That way there will be no possibility of damage being done to your position – or the Entil'Zha’s. That is essential.”
“What are you proposing? That we lie? How do we know,” she continued, looking around nervously, “that no one saw the whole thing? If they were to step forward later and contradict us, it would be even worse than the truth coming out!”
“That will not happen. If anyone saw what truly transpired, they would understand you were not at fault and say nothing. Besides, for someone to contradict a public statement would be a grave offense. Tradition states that it is inappropriate for a Minbari to lie – thus accusing another of lying is extremely serious. It calls into question not only the honor of the individuals involved, but their family, Clan and Caste. A den’sha would have to be fought …”
“Are you out of your mind? Valen prophesized that no Minbari would kill another for a thousand years! That prophecy -- the importance of it -- is central to everything Valen stands for …”
“Which is precisely why no one will contradict my story. Who would wish to challenge prophecy? Even those who may still disapprove of Valen’s union with you would not do such a thing. Valen came to us with the angels you call Vorlons. He has been anointed by them and by the sacred Fire. To challenge his prophecies is to challenge the gods! Only a madman would do that!

“Go now – take the flyer and go home immediately. You met with the Council, came outside and found only the ship. You waited for me for some twenty minutes, but when I did not appear, you decided to return to Tuzanor without me. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Say nothing. I will take care of everything.”
“What …”
“Go, Satai.” Tadeer pressed his palms together and formed the triangular salute with his thumbs. “Trust me. In Valen’s Name.” Sakai shook her head, but she also realized she had no choice. There was no other way to resolve the situation without taking risks they couldn’t afford to take.
“Tadeer … I’m so sorry … and so ashamed that I questioned your loyalty …”
“Go on – before someone sees you here!” Reluctantly, she nodded and pulled the hood of her coat over her head. She took a final glance back at Tadeer, who stood there in the cold beside the pool of Norenn’s blood, and then she ran to their ship.

Chapter Text

-15-

“Mama!” Delenn cried, throwing her arms around Sakai’s legs as she entered the house, and almost knocking her over. Sakai winced – bruises were just beginning to form on her hips and legs from the tumble she’d taken with Tadeer, and Delenn seemed to have touched all of them. It wasn’t physical pain, however, but the innocent delight in her young daughter’s eyes that caused her the most misery. She faced certain death on at least three separate occasions with relative aplomb, but projecting false cheer to her daughter at that moment was a far more terrible thing.
“Delenn! Did you have a good day with Mayan? Please let me through the door, okay? Mama is very tired.” On cue, Mayan scooped Delenn up in her arms and led Sakai over to the living room couch. Sakai took a deep breath. Here came the worst part; the lying. “Is Tadeer here, Mayan?”
“No; isn’t he with you, Satai Catherine? I thought he accompanied you to Yedor.”
“He did,” Catherine began, stroking Delenn’s hair and then dropping her eyes to the floor, unable to look at either of them as she continued. “But when I left the Council he was not … on the steps waiting for me.” That was true, she told herself; he wasn’t on the steps. He was in the street. She was walking a fine line between truth and falsehood. A very fine line. “After about a half hour, I got in the ship and left by myself.” Also true. It was what she’d left unspoken, of course, that really mattered. Maybe I can fool them, she thought, but I know better. I’m a liar. I’m lying by omission.
“That is not like Tadeer at all …”
“No, it certainly isn’t. I hope everything is all right.”
“Mama? You don’t look good,” Delenn interjected, studying Sakai’s strained expression with concern.
“Don’t worry, Delenn,” Catherine insisted as earnestly as she could, pulling her daughter close. “I’m fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Nothing. I just had a long day.” She looked over at Mayan, eliciting support. “I think the trip to Yedor was a bit too much for me after all – I guess it’s really time I cut back on my activities.” Sakai smiled, but her distress came across clearly to Mayan.
“Do you want me to send for a doctor?”
“Oh gosh, no, nothing like that! But maybe we should have a couple of the acolytes Valen selected move in before the babies are born. I’m going to have to get off of my feet … Delenn, baby,” she continued, smoothing her daughter’s hair, “I know you’re still feeling down ‘cause Daddy just left, and I wish I had the energy to read to you and play with you tonight, but …” Delenn’s crestfallen face was more than Sakai could take. Delenn, she resolved, was not going to become another victim of her shortcomings. “But how about this – if you promise to behave yourself and let me get some rest, you can come and sleep in the big bed with me tonight. Would you like that?”

The light returned to Delenn’s eyes and she nodded enthusiastically. Fearful she would grow too accustomed to their flat bed with its soft, thick mattress and subsequently refuse to sleep in a Minbari bed, Catherine and Valen had agreed to keep their daughter out of their room. Naturally, that made Delenn want to sleep with them even more. On a few occasions they’d relented – this would have to be one of them.

“Okay – why don’t you go have dinner and let Mayan help you get changed for bed, and then you can join me – you can even bring some small toys if you want.”
“Shall I bring you something, Satai?”
“I’m really not feeling too good … kind of nauseous actually. Maybe some tea … a little bread and fruit?” Sakai rose wearily. “I’ll take it in my room, thank you, Mayan. Oh,” she said, turning back in the doorway, “if you hear from Tadeer, please let me know.”
“Yes, Satai. Certainly.” Sakai shuffled from the room to the sound of Delenn’s cheerful patter. She hoped she could hold back her tears until she got to her room – and cry herself out before Delenn got there.

Hours later, with Delenn sleeping amidst a pile of soft toy animals an arms-length away from her, Sakai lay on her back staring at the ceiling and biting back pain and tears. Her whole body ached, and she was worried by the fitful and irregular pains of what she recognized were contractions. She didn’t know if the impact of hitting the ground when Tadeer pushed her or the shock of Norenn’s suicide actually had anything to do with the situation, but either way, she was verging on panic. If her first pregnancy with Delenn was any kind of gauge, these three weren’t due for at least another two months, probably three. It was as though they were being forced out prematurely by the crushing weight of her conscience.

I directly precipitated another woman’s death, she kept thinking. Valen had spent nearly an hour smoothing over the situation, and with a few careless words to Tadeer, I undid it all. And Tadeer … where was he? What would the consequences of his “solution” be? How can I possibly participate any further in governing this planet knowing what I’ve done? How will I ever be able to face Valen knowing I have this terrible secret hidden away? On a foolish suspicion about … what? Nothing -- just a feeling he was holding something back. He told me there wasn’t anything, and I refused to believe him – a man in whose Name thirty generations of Minbari will swear their most solemn oaths, yet I wouldn’t take his words at face value. What the hell is wrong with me? The whole situation … none of it had to happen. Norenn’s was a totally senseless, purposeless, empty death; the worst of all possible fates, and I forced it upon her. All because I lacked the one thing every other Ranger, every Minbari, has; the one thing Valen has depended upon and begged me to trust in. Such a simple thing, really. Faith.

Sakai groaned aloud, then turned her head, afraid she might have woke up Delenn. It was a minute relief to see her sleeping on, innocent of her mother’s sins. Sakai closed her eyes briefly, only to recall Norenn, the knife protruding grotesquely from her chest, hurling herself over the cliff. Sakai leapt up and raced for the bathroom, overcome by nausea.

When she finally re-emerged, drained and wan, she found Delenn had slept through all the noise. Be grateful for small miracles, she told herself. Sakai paused beside the bed, then impulsively grabbed her robe and slipped outside into the garden. It was a habit she had picked up long ago from Sinclair – to retreat with her thoughts someplace where she could see the stars.

The first wet snowflakes of winter were already beginning to fall. They grew as they moved closer to the ground, so that by the time they finally splattered on the stones and bushes, they were enormous, imperfectly shaped white hexagons. Sakai closed her eyes as a runny flake struck her cheek, and when she reopened them, her entire face was wet with a salty mixture of tears and snow.
Was he out there, watching the stars too? I’m sorry, Valen, she thought, as though she could send him a message by concentrating on the same constellations. I’m sorry.

“Who are you?” A deep voice asked. Sakai didn’t need to lower her eyes to know who it was, nor did she question that he was there again.
“I’m not sure I know the answer to that anymore, Kosh. I’m really not sure. If you’d asked me that yesterday, it would have been easy – I was Catherine Sakai, a Ranger; we live for The One; we die for The One. I was a former scientist, businesswoman and deep space explorer now training the young men and women of the Anla’shok in space flight. I was Jeffrey Sinclair’s fiancée; Valen’s wife, best friend and adviser; Delenn’s mother. I wouldn’t have had to think in order to answer the question – I just was. But now … after today …” Sakai turned and looked at Kosh, then lifted her eyes skyward again, gazing up at the tiny dots of snow swirling high above her head. She could only distinguish them from the stars by their erratic movement. After a brief pause, the words came tumbling from her lips with ease. “I’m not sure who I am, but what I want -- that I know! I want today to never have happened! I want everything to turn out the way it’s supposed to. I want to be worthy of Valen’s love and devotion and worthy of the position he’s entrusted to me. I want the Shadow War to be over, I want Valen to come home to me and four healthy children and be happy – he, deserves to finally have happiness! I want all of those things and more, Kosh; I want everything; I want it all!” Sakai dropped her hands to her knees and bent over, gasping for air. The cold air she sucked into her lungs burned her chest, prompting her to breathe even harder, until she was coughing and choking. Kosh’s reply came back abruptly and unsympathetically.
“Wanting is irrelevant. Happiness is irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” she cried indignantly, but before she could continue, she heard a voice calling to her from the house. With another brief glance at Kosh, who stood silently as the snow began to accumulate on the shoulders of his encounter suit, she ran back to her bedroom door. Mayan was there, peering outside worriedly.

“In Valen’s Name!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing outside in this bitter cold, Satai Catherine? Is that snow?” She hurried Sakai inside and dropped her voice with a concerned glance at the still-sleeping Delenn. “I was going to apologize for waking you at this late hour, but …”
“What is it?” Sakai asked as she closed the garden door.
“Satai Braoon has sent an urgent message for you – he says it concerns Tadeer!”

Chapter Text

-16-

“For how long was I asleep, Marneer?” The other man looked at him with surprise.
“It could not have been more than fifteen minutes, Entil'Zha … I was not even aware that you were sleeping. We should be in visual range of the Station in moments.”

The shuttle and its small fighter escort jumped into normal space, where they found themselves surrounded by other ships – ships almost beyond number. There were transports and supply ships, fighters, cruisers and capital warships from over a dozen races, all of whom had heard Valen’s call and pledged their resources to him. But what Valen took note of were the other, smaller vessels; the ships carrying desperate refugees from planets across the galaxy, vessels belonging to people who had nothing left to share or give, nothing left but the hope that Valen and his Anla’shok might save their races from total annihilation.
“Look at them all, Marneer,” Valen whispered with mixed wonder and horror. “So many ships, so many lives … I hope I don't fail them,” he breathed humbly.
“You will not,“ Marneer stated with certainty. “They all know this to be true – that is why they are here.” Valen bowed his head slightly, then cast his eyes in another direction.
“What the hell …” Valen cried as he caught a glimpse of Babylon 4 itself. “Damn it, Marneer; you told me only last week that the Station had hardly been damaged in the Shadow attack! You said nothing about …”
“I had no idea,” Marneer gasped, quickly surveying the Station for himself. One of the solar panels was missing and two others appeared as though they might be damaged beyond repair, and there was extensive damage visible along nearly all six miles of the Station’s exterior. “I, I have not been here in some months … my information was not first hand, but came from Derann himself. I told him I would be delivering it to you …”
“Valen to Station Command and Control!”
“Entil'Zha! We have been awaiting your arrival! You are cleared for immediate docking …”
“Tell Shai Alyt Derann to meet me at the gate as soon as we’re aboard!” Valen barked harshly. Marneer, emboldened by Valen’s earlier rapprochement, stole a quick peek at his face, and saw an entirely different man was sitting beside him.

All of the gentleness and compassion had left Valen’s expression. This was the other side of Valen – the relentless warrior who had honed himself into the perfect weapon; who shied away from nothing and had walked heroically into the hands of death; who demanded nothing less from those who dared to pledge themselves to him. His jaw was firmly set, and Marneer could tell that Valen’s teeth were clenched behind his lips. Valen wasn’t so much frowning as he was glowering and the intensity in his dark eyes was as frightening as it was impossible to ignore. The same low reverberation in his voice that backed Valen’s words of kindness with hypnotic charm now seemed to settle in the marrow of Marneer’s bones and threatened to shatter them from the inside out. What Marneer found most disconcerting was that there were forces in the Universe that dared to stand in opposition to the man he now watched with awe and fear. He shivered slightly, imagining what they might look like.

Valen and Marneer flew the rest of the way in near silence, exchanging only a few necessary words as they docked inside Babylon 4. Valen was still too angry to speak civilly to anyone, and Marneer feared redirecting Valen’s wrath. As soon as their shuttle was transferred to a pressurized bay, Valen rose and waited at the door. At that moment, Marneer was quite content to be but a lowly member of the Worker Caste; he did not envy Shai Alyt Derann at all. The door slid open.

Nearly a dozen Rangers were lined up on either side of the opening, all of whom lowered their heads respectfully at the sight of Valen. In the middle of the two rows stood Derann. The crest on his head bristled with aggressive points and ridges, and at six and a half feet tall, he towered over most men, including the Entil'Zha. Valen nodded politely to the assembly, his expression now a quiet and unemotional mask that betrayed none of the fury Marneer knew was simmering just beneath the surface. He walked down the aisle toward Derann and Marneer followed nervously behind. Valen addressed the Shai Alyt without giving him more than a passing glance.

“Walk with us, Derann,” he instructed, leading the way out of the docking bay and toward the nearest elevator tube. Valen halted at the door and indicated to the other two men that they should step inside, then followed them in. “Computer, close doors and hold position.” Derann frowned uncertainly, but said nothing. Marneer edged into a corner and for the briefest of moments, wished he’d never left his family’s farm.

“Derann,” Valen said softly, with perfect and menacing control, “Marneer informed you that he had replaced Catherine as my aide, did he not?” He clasped a broad hand on Marneer’s shoulder for emphasis.
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” Derann answered, with a haughty glance at the nervous young man who stood beside Valen. He was evidently surprised that someone as important as the Chosen One would ask him a question about someone as utterly insignificant as Marneer.
“And he asked you for a status report concerning the Station, is that not also correct?” Derann nodded curtly. “You said nothing about this fresh damage. And this is not the first time we've had to have a conversation like this. Why?”
“How could I share such information with … a grower of vegetables?” Derann spat.
“He's my aide, Derann. That should be enough for you. If that's going to be a problem, you'd better tell me now.” Derann gulped and cast his eyes downward.
“No, Entil'Zha. It will not happen again.”
“It better not. If I have to talk like this with you again, you'll be spending the rest of the war in the brig. Do I make myself clear?” The Warrior considered this possibility with horror.
“Yes, Entil'Zha. My apologies.” Valen restarted the elevator.
“Make them to Marneer, not to me.” Derann looked stricken, but obeyed.
“I apologize for not taking you seriously, Marneer.”
“This is your floor, Derann,” Valen instructed, “get out.” Marneer gaped at Derann’s shocked expression as the lift doors snapped shut. Valen saw Marneer’s reaction and chuckled softly. “Enjoy it, Marneer,” he advised kindly, “but I’m afraid I’ve put you in a rather difficult position. Still, I needed a witness.”
“I’m afraid I do not understand, Entil'Zha.”
“Really? And here I thought it was obvious – what do you think a man like Derann fears most?”
“Well, death, surely; don’t we all fear death most?”
“Actually, no. When I stood in the StarFire Wheel, moments away from certain death, I regretted that my death was necessary; I was sorry that it would cause Catherine to grieve and that I’d never hold our child in my arms, but I didn’t fear death itself at all, Marneer. I feared what would happen if I didn’t offer myself up for sacrifice. I feared that the physical agony I was in would never end. I feared any number of things, but death was not among them. But I’m getting off the point. Derann is Warrior Caste. He was taught at a young age that an honorable death in service to Minbar is the highest gift he has to offer. So no, I don’t think Derann fears death. Blue three,” he directed the transport tube computer. “When we first came aboard and saw Derann standing there, what emotion did he project?”
“He seemed to me as most Warrior Caste members do …”
“Which would be?” Valen prompted. “Go ahead – be honest,” he half-smiled.
“Prideful, perhaps even arrogant.”
“Ah, so we see the same then, Marneer; as I said, we’re not so different, you and I. So, I ask you; what punishment would an arrogant man fear more than public humiliation?”
“So then why did you take him aside in the lift, Entil …Valen?” Marneer asked as they stepped out into the corridor.
“Because he has been defending the Station in my absence. And because I have no wish to destroy him, Marneer, only to keep him in line.” Valen produced a passkey and they entered the room. “Having you there to witness the confrontation embarrassed him just enough to remind him who is in command here. Unfortunately, you’ve now seen him at his most vulnerable – something I doubt he appreciates. I’m afraid he’ll be less than pleasant should you meet when I’m not around.” Marneer shrugged.
“Until you arrived, Entil'Zha, all Warrior Caste members were ‘less than pleasant’ to us Worker Caste members. Now some of them give us an unprecedented modicum of respect.” Valen nodded with a sigh and set down his bag.
“Hmm,” Valen murmured absently as he glanced around the room. The familiar trappings of the time and place he had come from alternately consoled and distressed him. “It’s been a long time since I lived aboard a space station …” he smiled to himself, “If someone had told me ten years ago that I’d actually learn to enjoy being planet-bound, I never would have believed them. I only hope I haven’t been away from this Station too long.” He strode over to the frosted glass doors that divided the space and pushed them apart from the center. Good, he noted silently -- no one had dared to override his passkey codes -- a standard-issue Earth Force bed was still in place. He’d spent so much time sleeping in the one he’d brought to Minbar for Catherine that he didn’t think he’d ever get re-accustomed to the rock-hard, angular platforms the Minbari favored.
“Oh no!” Marneer exclaimed from behind him. “I’m sorry, Entil'Zha – I’ll have that removed at once.” Valen rolled his eyes to himself and turned, smiling, at his assistant.
“It’s not a problem, Marneer – this is the kind of bed my wife’s race favors.”
“But to sleep horizontally … it is to tempt death!” Marneer sputtered. Valen sighed. Marneer was, he reminded himself, a product of his culture. It was going to take some time to break that programming. But break him he would – he wasn’t going to go through the rest of this life playing games with the Minbari over his sleeping arrangements, the way he had as Earth’s Ambassador back in the 23rd Century.
“I’m not afraid of death, remember?” Valen laughed. “Seriously, Marneer, there’s no danger in sleeping flat on one’s back. It’s just a superstition. I’ve been doing it for years now to no ill effect. True, it gets some getting used to, but it’s not a problem. Really.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Entil'Zha – or to challenge my assumptions.”
“Well good,” Valen smiled. “The day I stop being a source of fresh insight is the day I pack my bags and leave Minbar for good.”

Chapter Text

-17-

“I am Grey. I stand between the Darkness and the Light. We are Grey; we stand between the Candle and the Star. I apologize for bringing this Council together again so soon,” announced a figure from the ring of lights that circled Sakai’s place in the center. “But a matter was brought to my attention last night that I fear we must deal with immediately, before The Council of Clan Elders or the general populace hears of it and attempts to take matters into their own hands.”
“What is it, Satai Braoon, that causes you such concern?” Catherine Sakai asked softly, holding onto the Triluminary Staff for dear life and cowering beneath the roughly woven hood that covered her face. I can’t let them know I’m aware of what’s going on. I have to feign ignorance, she reminded herself silently.
“It is a … delicate matter, Satai Catherine, that concerns a member of your household.” There was a collective gasp around the circle. Sakai’s household was Valen’s household. What could possibly take place there that The Council might dare to cast judgment on?
“Go on.”
“This is your servant Tadeer, is it not?” Braoon inquired from behind his thick grey veil, holding his arm out and pointing at the small figure who entered the light beside him.
“Yes. He has worked for Valen and I since we moved to our present home some two cycles ago.” Sakai ran her tongue across her dry teeth before continuing. “Where have you been since yesterday morning, Tadeer, when you brought me to Yedor?” She hoped she sounded convincingly imperious, but all the while she was afraid the staff in her hands would explode into light and somehow reveal her culpability the way it had illuminated Valen’s soul. “You were not there after The Council meeting ended – I waited about twenty or thirty minutes before leaving on my own. This caused me some concern – can you explain your absence? Step forward so that all may hear you,” she added, glad for an excuse to move out of the central light and into the darkness. As Tadeer approached, his head bowed lowly, Sakai’s heart pounded ever more furiously.
“I, I hardly know where to begin to confess my crimes,” Tadeer began, and this time another robed Council member spoke angrily, also without revealing his face. Their anonymity was broken only amongst themselves, although who The Nine were was an open secret.
“Crimes? How could you have dared to commit even the most minor of offenses while living beneath the roof that shelters The Chosen One and his family?” Sakai knew the voice -- it was Rathmer; the man who had himself held Tadeer's position in the days before The Wheel. “This is an unholy outrage!”
“Quiet now!” Sakai shouted from the shadows. “No one is more shocked than I to hear these words, but hear them we must before we make any kind of judgment!”
“Satai Catherine is of course correct; I beg forgiveness,” Rathmer said, bowing his draped head.
“Tadeer?” The man glanced nervously around the room. Of course he’s nervous, Sakai thought; he’s about to lie to Minbar’s ruling body! I only have to confirm his words; he’s the one who has to make the actual false testimony.
“I, I suppose it began when I entered into a relationship with a fellow Worker Caste member named Norenn.”
“And exactly what was the nature of that relationship, Tadeer?” Braoon prompted. Sakai wished she had tried to approach the priest privately before agreeing to Tadeer’s plan. Maybe it didn’t have to come to this; maybe there could have been some other way to …
“It was, it was sexual,” Tadeer said. “But we, we did not consult her Clan or perform any of the required rituals … it was a base and undignified act. I pressured her to consent to it – the responsibility is all mine. I traveled much in those days for the Entil'Zha. I was far from Tuzanor, I, I actually thought I would never see her again …” The room echoed with angry whispers. Sakai didn’t fully understand the cultural mores that surrounded Minbari sexuality, but she knew that some of Valen’s early writings had sparked the creation of a host of rituals, the proper performance of which separated sanctified acts from those that were considered unacceptable or forbidden. Valen had tried to explain how it all worked to her on several occasions, but somehow their discussions on the topic always degenerated into enthusiastic demonstrations instead.
“We would thank you not to mention the Entil'Zha in the same breath as these foul confessions,” Rathmer interjected.
“Let him continue,” Sakai ordered.
“As I say, the fault was entirely mine, I freely admit that. Afterwards, I forgot all about her ... at least I did until a couple of weeks ago when I received word that she was coming to Tuzanor. She said she wished to speak to … to the Entil'Zha, that she wanted to join the Anla’shok, but I was afraid she had other motives in mind … I thought that she might reveal my cowardly actions to The Chosen One and cost me my position in his household -- which I obviously did not deserve to hold. I tried to forestall her, even to bribe her, but to no avail. Despite her single … indiscretion with me, Norenn was an honorable woman. I think it’s important for you to know that. Three days ago, she arrived at the house. I did not know if she was truly on pilgrimage or not – I didn't care. I sought only to keep my actions hidden. To that end I made false promises to her and got her to swear to keep the secret. But she still insisted upon seeing the Entil'Zha …”
“Do you know if any of this is this true, Satai Catherine?” one of The Nine inquired.
“Yes,” Sakai answered; glad she could at last say something honest, but astonished to realize that so much had happened in only three days. “Yes, it was after dinner, and we had just put Delenn to sleep when Tadeer told Valen a Ranger was there to see him.”
“A Ranger? You said she wished to join the Anla’shok, not that she was already a member of that holy army, didn’t you?” Braoon demanded of Tadeer.
“Yes, but, but I misrepresented her to the Entil'Zha …”
“What?” another Grey Council member cried furiously. “You lied to the Entil'Zha?”
“Silence!” Sakai demanded. “We will never get to the bottom of this if we continue to conduct our inquiry in this manner! Finish your story, Tadeer.”
“It is true, I did as you say, I … I can hardly believe it myself, but I lied to him. I confess this in the hope that my dishonorable acts will not reflect upon my Family or Clan, who I assure you are ignorant as to these events. I was hoping that as soon as the Anla’shok Na realized she was not whom he expected, he would conclude that she was lying and dismiss her at once. But of course, as I should have realized, that is not the Entil'Zha’s way. I do not know of what they spoke. When the Entil'Zha re-entered the house perhaps an hour later, Norenn had already left the grounds.” There was a pause before Braoon spoke.
“Satai Catherine? Did Valen speak to you of this interchange?”
“Valen’s private conversations are just that – private,” she began nervously.
“Yes, yes of course. I apologize for asking such an impudent question. I think you have laid the background out for us well enough, Tadeer – now tell the Council what you told me last night.” What did it matter, Sakai thought morosely. He’s already dug his own grave, and I’ve stood here silently and let him do it. It was bad enough my distrust caused Norenn’s death, but to listen to this terrible story and know it’s all a lie … to know what a devoted servant Tadeer has been, continues to be, and say nothing while he depicts himself as the basest sort of villain …
“Yesterday in Yedor, I was shocked to discover that Norenn was here as well – from where I waited on the palace steps, I could see her standing by the Sacred Window. She was … tall and quite unmistakable, you see. I approached her and asked her to talk with me and reluctantly, she consented. I pressured her to tell me what she had spoken to the Entil'Zha about, but she refused. I lost my head and got angry, then accused her of breaking her promise and telling him about us. She was justifiably furious. I was frightened someone would overhear us, that Satai Catherine would emerge from the palace and demand to know what was going on … all I could think about was that I would be denied the privilege of continuing to serve in Valen’s house …” Tadeer’s voice faded off as he choked back tears. “So as we stood there on the cliff’s edge … I, I had a knife and I drew it on her …” He paused while The Council gasped in unison. “I did not intend to harm her, only to threaten her, to frighten her,” he said hastily, “but … we scuffled … I did not mean for it to happen; I swear In the Names of Valeria and Valen that I did not, but …” Tadeer fell to his knees and his voice dropped to the lowest of whispers and yet his next words echoed deafeningly throughout the chamber.. “But she tripped and fell against the blade … she … she stepped back trying to get away from me, she, she took another step and fell over the side … I saw her plunge into the river and have no doubt that she is dead. It was an accident,” he cried, “In Valen’s Name it was an accident!”
“It was murder!” someone cried. The room exploded with angry voices.
“No!” Catherine shouted above the din. “No! It was death by misadventure,” she insisted desperately, “weren’t you listening? Negligence! An accident! Think about what you’re saying!” She pounded the Triluminary staff against the floor and reclaimed her place in the center of the circle, throwing the hood off of her face. Her dark eyes blazed desperately. “I was there, albeit in disguise, when Valen pronounced that the final den’sha had been fought! Have you forgotten what he said – what he prophesied? That no Minbari would murder another Minbari in the next thousand years? I cannot believe any of you would even imagine contradicting that augury here! It was an accident – it had to be, or else everything that Valen covenanted with you is a lie!” The chamber was quiet for a long, long time.
“Once more,” another member of The Nine said solemnly, “Valen’s wisdom is made manifest – I doubt we would have understood that without you here to lead us, Satai Catherine.” Catherine cast her eyes at her feet, thinking that the whole situation would have been averted if she hadn’t been put in charge in the first place. But it was too late for that now. “What do you recommend we do?”
“The Elders and Norenn’s family must be told that we investigated the manner of her death and have ruled it an accident. No one outside of this chamber needs to be told the details. As Valen has said, ‘understanding is not required; only obedience.’”
“Might I suggest we send acolytes from the Great Temple to search for her body? If it can be found, we can cremate it secretly. That way, no one will ever know about the knife, which is clearly the most complicated element in this … unfortunate story.”
“An excellent suggestion, Lennat,” Sakai replied coolly, recognizing the voice of one of the Warrior Caste members. This is where it all begins, she thought; where The Council starts determining the Truth for Minbar, where they begin to decide what the people have a need to know and what to keep hidden. Somehow she had always imagined that happened long after Valen’s day, and once she’d arrived in the past and discovered that Valen was Jeffrey Sinclair, she’d been certain. Sinclair had always been up-front about everything – often to his detriment. Once, she recalled, he’d given an interview to Universe Today that resulted in his being shipped off to a post halfway to the Galactic Rim, and his candor had sparked more than a few of the epic conflicts between the two of them. What would he say if he were ever to learn that she was the catalyst for the Minbari’s renowned secrecy and dissembling? She pictured his justifiable rage and shuddered.

Briefly, Sakai considered speaking out, confessing to the truth – that Tadeer had acted in defense of her life and that her own baseless suspicions had prompted the fatal confrontation with Norenn. But Tadeer was right, she conceded reluctantly. Look at how violently The Nine had responded to the story when it seemed to revolve around two Minbari in a lover’s quarrel. If anyone were to learn she had been there, had started it all … Oh, to have it to do all over again! But she would, Sakai realized unhappily. She would and she had, and as far as she could tell, she’d keep making the same mistake – of losing faith – over and over again. That was the most horrible thing about living in a time loop, she decided; the simultaneous fears of altering the course of what had to happen and of having to accept the things that did occur, without trying to change them! Once again, she found she had to fight to conceal the tears welling up in her eyes, and that made her angry. How could she stand there, feeling sorry for herself when Tadeer’s life was on the line?

“There is another matter we must still rule on,” she said, looking at Tadeer sadly. He sat in a helpless ball at her feet, his arms folded across the spires of bone that rose from his bowed head. Forgive me, Tadeer; please forgive me for going along with this plan of yours … “And that is; what is to be done with Tadeer?”
“He deserves death!” one of the Warrior Caste members proclaimed.
“That is not an option,” Sakai reminded him quickly. “And even if it were, that would hardly be just. Tadeer showed … extremely poor judgment, but I am sure he never meant for such a tragic outcome …”
“It is understandable that you would feel the need to apologize for someone who lived with you for so long, Satai, but you must understand – he betrayed you and Valen both!”
“No, I …”
“Please, Satai, listen to us. A woman is dead. That it happened unintentionally does not change that fact. If we do not mete out the harshest punishment possible for this crime, we would be complicit ourselves in this injustice.”
“But …”
“They are right,” said Tadeer mournfully, as he rose to his feet and met Catherine’s reddened eyes. “Do not intercede on my behalf – I know what I have done.”

Sakai stared at Tadeer dumbly, recognizing the literal truth in his words and agonizing over that very realization. No one else would ever know the depth of his sacrifices, nor understand his motives. All that remained for her to do was damage control. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him, thinking of how paltry her gratitude was as repayment for his loyalty. Tadeer nodded almost imperceptibly in understanding.

“We’d all understand if you would prefer to leave rather than to pass sentence against your former servant, Satai,” Braoon offered sympathetically. Sakai shook her head and straightened out her posture. Tadeer didn’t have the option of leaving and so she forbade herself the same.
“No. I am here in Valen’s stead – he would not depart, and so neither can I. Let us proceed,” she instructed as unemotionally as she could. “But as we deliberate, let us not forget the crime committed was at worst, involuntary manslaughter. I know that if Valen were here, while this story would both anger him and break his heart, he would insist we be merciful in our sentencing.”
“We cannot simply punish and then release him – not with him knowing of these proceedings or the true circumstances of Norenn’s death. Were he to disclose those facts to anyone, it would reveal our complicity.” Shit! Sakai cursed to herself. She hadn’t considered that! Lies upon lies upon lies! Where did it end? Where would it ever end? They were all bound up in them – her, Tadeer, and now The Nine.
“I would say nothing!” Tadeer swore vehemently.
“Silence! The time for you to speak has now passed,” Rathmer said. Tadeer bowed his head and shrank into the shadows.

An idea occurred to Sakai, an idea so unwelcome she was disgusted with herself for even thinking it. True, it would solve their problems, but … God, no! How could she even consider doing such a thing? It wasn’t as though she didn’t know what the emotional fall-out from such an act could be. She had only to recall what it had done to Jeff; the years and years of doubt that had altered him so irrevocably, the bitterness that had, for a while, almost obliterated the rest of his personality, the veiled suicide attempts as he sought to restore meaning to his life. And yet … Catherine’s eyes wandered up to the Triluminary mounted atop the staff in her hand. She shook her head. No. She wouldn’t, couldn’t suggest it. How would she ever be able to face Valen again if … how was she going to do so even now?

“You have a suggestion, Satai?” someone asked, and Catherine blinked, only then remembering that she had thrown back the hood, thus exposing her facial expressions to scrutiny.
“No, no,” she insisted, eyeing the shrouded figures that surrounded her. “I wish I did, but …I do think it would be best if we continued these discussions without Tadeer present. As Tellier pointed out, the less Tadeer knows from this point forward, the less of a problem his knowledge presents.”

She concentrated on sending a message through the Triluminary, and on cue, a white-robed acolyte approached the gathering beneath the rotating purple dome at the center of the room. He formed his hands into the ritual, triangular greeting and bowed stiffly from the waist. The young priest was careful to demonstrate an appropriate lack of surprise upon seeing Catherine standing with the Triluminary staff beneath the middle spotlight, her face crowned by a braided twist of black hair.

“Please escort this man to a holding area until we call for him again,” she instructed. As Tadeer turned to follow the acolyte out, he caught Catherine’s eye. To her wonderment, he managed a small smile for her. As she marveled again over his unstinting self-sacrifice, one of the other Council members spoke.
“If we cannot execute him, which as the Satai correctly points out would violate Valen’s holy compact with us, then it seems to me there is only one other course of action open to us. Mish’co’dum.” As the others whispered and nodded, Catherine frowned blankly.
“Yes,” said Braoon, “so it would seem.”
“There would be some logistical difficulties, but nothing we cannot resolve …”
“It would eliminate all concern about what he knows, as well as fulfill our need to mete out punishment.”
“Wait a minute!” Catherine broke in, “What is mish’co’dum? Valen never mentioned this term to me…”
“Apologies, Satai,” Lennat said, uncovering his head as she pivoted toward him. “There is no reason you should be familiar with this custom; there has been no need of it since The Chosen One appeared to us. It predates his arrival by many centuries. Some say it was an accepted means of punishment even before the Ancients built us the StarFire Wheel.”
“And what does it involve?”
“When it was determined – traditionally by the Council of Clan Elders, of course,” Braoon explained; also revealing his face now that the ten of them were alone, “that an individual had committed a particularly grievous crime – high treason for example, or the abuse of a child – mish’co’dum was performed. The individual in question was brought before the entire community and officially pronounced guilty, then ritually stripped of his or her familial and Clan ties. Finally they were exiled to the polar regions, forbidden to ever return to society.”
“You can't be serious!” Catherine exclaimed as she looked around at the remaining members of The Council, who had pulled the grey hoods from their faces as Braoon spoke, then frowned with wide-eyed surprise at their expressions. “You are serious? How could you consider such a terrible punishment? No one could survive alone in the Northlands! And even if they could … This is just death by another name! No, worse than death! Tadeer is still young – baring illness he could easily live another forty cycles! No, absolutely not. Valen would never approve of this.”
“Then what else do you suggest, Satai?” Tadoor cried in frustration. “He held a knife against another Minbari and that threat lead directly to her death! He lied to you and to Valen, and he knows of our decision not to explain these complicated facts to her Family or the Elders!”
“We understand your reluctance, Satai Catherine, particularly since you walk among us with Valen’s children in your womb, but you must put such sentiment aside and realize we have no other choice,” the priest Nermer insisted quietly. Sakai dropped her head and absently ran her hand over her hair as she contemplated his words.

The way Tadeer had deftly told the story, all of the blame for Norenn’s untimely death lay on his head, and so she couldn’t very well expect The Nine to let him off easily. His having listened to their debate only made matters worse – why oh why hadn’t she thought to remove him from the Council chambers sooner? And of course The Nine insisted they couldn’t trust Tadeer to remain silent after he’d “confessed” to being entirely untrustworthy. Finally, Valen’s prophecy about Minbari-on-Minbari violence coming to an end made the purported facts Tadeer had alleged that much more serious. But she knew the truth, and doing so, couldn’t imagine allowing her faithful servant to be publicly humiliated and banished to either freeze or starve to death in the frozen wastelands that covered two-thirds of the planet Minbar. So what choice did she have? How could she possibly satisfy The Grey Council’s desire for vengeance and protect Tadeer from the consequences at the same time? Miserably, she found her thoughts returning to her earlier idea. Surely exile was worse than living with “a hole in one’s mind?” Sakai couldn’t believe she was seriously considering suggesting it, and tried, while The Council waited in silence, to come up with something, anything else, but failed. It was no use. The Nine wanted an answer and they wanted one now. Catherine exhaled a long, slow breath in an attempt to calm herself before she spoke. Even so, her voice was hushed and halting.

“Send for a telepath and leave the rest to me. When we are done, Tadeer will no longer recall any of the circumstances surrounding Norenn’s death, and yet he will never be free of an inexplicable, crushing sense of guilt. We can send him away to work someplace far off, and he’ll never trouble us again.”

Chapter Text

-18-

Valen dragged himself into the station commander’s office, utterly exhausted. He’d lost track of how much time had passed since his arrival; it felt like days. There's been a debriefing with Derann that took hours, and he'd inspected some of the damage himself on a space walk outside the Station. Then there were military assignments to make, ships to send out into action. Despite his assurances to Catherine about knowing he would put an end to the Shadow War, just as he’d done “before,” Valen often found himself wondering how he would ever measure up to the tasks before him. He believed he would do them, just as he told her, but it was the how he was uncertain about. He leaned forward at the desk and rested his bowed head against his hands. He heard footsteps approaching in the hallway and turned his head abruptly. It was Marneer, his young face shining expectantly, then frowning as he saw Valen’s odd position and realizing he’d intruded.

“I, I am sorry, Entil'Zha, I will …”
“No, no, it’s quite all right, Marneer, come in,” Valen instructed, shaking off his tiredness as quickly as he could and gesturing to a seat. “You looked as though you were going to say something?” he prompted kindly, if somewhat hoarsely.
“No, Entil'Zha. I simply came to see if you needed me.” Valen sighed, suddenly feeling very old.
“I must confess I’m tired, Marneer; how long has it been since we came aboard?” Marneer paused and looked around, seemingly confused himself.
“I believe that on Minbar, two or three days have passed …” Valen lifted his non-existent eyebrows.
“That long? Did we ever stop to eat? I can’t remember …”
“No, Entil .. Valen. I was afraid to interrupt you …” This time Valen laughed.
“Well, that would explain why I'm so tired. Come,” he pulled himself back to his feet. “I’m going to my quarters – there’s plenty of room there for you as well, and if I recall correctly, we have some food there …”
“No, I am fine, Valen, thank you. I’ll stay here and try to organize Derann’s notes for you, and then, well, if the Entil'Zha can actually sleep on a horizontal sponge, I can rest right here in this chair when I am through.”
“That’s really not necessary, Marneer; there’s a couch …” But Marneer was already bowing to him.
“Do not trouble yourself further about me. Please – go.” Valen managed a weak smile at Marneer’s youthful enthusiasm. I'm getting old, he thought to himself; I’m too old and too tired to argue with him.
“Very well then,” Valen said, shaking his head, “I will meet you here in five hours. If you change your mind, the door will be unlocked.”

Valen found the transport tube and headed to Blue Sector, trying for a moment not to think about the billions of lives across the galaxy that were depending on him. In that other life, his quarters on Babylon 5 had been in Blue Three, and so that was where he’d taken up residence on Babylon 4. The room he was going to now was the same one in which he’d painstakingly assembled the Chrysalis machine, those many long years ago, when the only other person aboard was Zathras. He knew then that there would be few opportunities for consistency in the life that lay ahead, and so he took advantage of any he could find. The furniture wasn’t exactly the same, of course, and the room was devoid of any personal touches, but he'd moved everything into a similar configuration as in his quarters on B5, and took what comfort he could in that.

It was familiar enough that he didn’t need a light to find his way, so he entered the darkened living room and walked through it knowingly, up to the glass doors that hid the bed and bath from immediate view. Valen pushed the doors open, sat down on the edge of the mattress and took off his boots and coat before lying back on top of the covers with a weary sigh. Suddenly, he remembered the package of flarn Mayan had given him and a rush of hunger overwhelmed his exhaustion. He stumbled back into the unlit outer room and found the gift by sense of smell, then devoured it so quickly that he was done before he even tasted it. He tossed back five glasses of water and decided he was through. More slowly now, he walked across the room, wrestling off his shirt as he did so. A glance at the chronometer confirmed Marneer’s estimate – they’d been aboard B4 for three full days. He shook his head and ran a hand across his scalp and bone. So much time and so little accomplished! So much to do before the Shadows moved again … no. He was driving himself too hard; if he kept up this pace, he’d burn out and the Shadows would have nothing to worry about at all.

Valen reentered the bedroom, pulled off his socks and pants and crawled underneath the covers. He closed his eyes and tried, without much success, to put the the war out of mind for a little while. It was so hard to believe Babylon 4 had actually been empty once and even harder to accept that he’d walked these halls as Jeffrey Sinclair. He thought of Garibaldi’s declaration about how B4 wasn’t Sinclair’s ship and how he didn’t have to go down with her. Famous last words! Who could ever have guessed that he was the Flying Dutchman? Sometimes it all seemed like it was a dream.

He considered that idea further; if it was a dream, what was reality? Did he expect to awaken in his bed on Babylon 5, or even in the Embassy on Minbar, shaking his head and wondering what prompted him to fantasize so pompously about being the Minbari prophet Valen? Or was it his life as an Earth Force Officer that struck him as more preposterous? He frowned to himself in the dark. Oddly enough, neither existence seemed wholly substantial now. It was all too incredible. Valen shifted position on the bed and the noise and chaos of the war came back to him. That was all too real.

Valen opened his eyes and gazed into the darkness. It was definitely time too for the Vorlons to start to deliver on their promises – he wondered when or if Ulkesh would arrive. Damn. He sat up abruptly in frustration and threw the blanket aside. So much for resting.

He tried to empty his mind by counting backward from ten and concentrating on his breathing, but a meditative state wasn’t something you could force yourself into. As fatigued as he was, the facts were the facts; he was thinking too hard to sleep – or to relax.

“Lights – low,” Valen instructed the room’s computer as he reached out and grabbed his coat from the far end of the bed. He searched through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. Carefully, he retrieved a lock of Catherine’s hair that he’d saved and tied up in one of Delenn’s hair ribbons. He turned it around in the light and laughed, thinking of how mercilessly Catherine would tease him if she could see him with it now. Well, first she’d probably lecture him against working himself so hard, skipping nine meals and going without sleep for seventy-two hours. Then she’d make fun of him. He wound the hair around a finger and brought it close to his face – it still smelled like Catherine. Valen exhaled slowly and lay back down against the bed, wondering what time it was on Minbar and what she would be doing.

At least he knew she was in good hands – he couldn’t have chosen better, truer servants than Mayan and Tadeer … even if Tadeer had made that minor lapse in judgment the day before he’d left. Had Catherine taken his advice and met with The Nine yet? Valen smiled again. He knew she wouldn’t just take his word about being able to count on The Grey Council for support. No, she was far too stubborn for that! She had to see everything for herself, form her own opinions, which was probably just as well – it kept him honest, kept him from believing Minbari propaganda and becoming too full of himself. They were quite a match, the two of them, he laughed to himself. They deserved each other, that was for damn sure! Hell, who else would have either of them?

Almost at once, an unwanted answer popped into Valen’s mind; that Norenn had been interested in the job. Valen dropped the token from his hand and rubbed his eyes. This, he realized, was what was really keeping him awake. If he was tense now, it was because he had a guilty conscience. It didn’t matter that he was trying to protect Catherine, trying to keep her from worrying about the Vorlon agenda. No, what mattered was that he’d sworn to be completely honest with her and then told her a half-truth about Norenn; told her worse than a lie. What’s more, it made him a hypocrite – instructing the Minbari to do one thing but living according to another standard himself. Was that the kind of example he wanted to set? It wasn’t the example he’d offered as Sinclair, when no one was paying a tenth as much attention to him as they did to Valen now. Still, he had to wonder … which had really been the mistake – to have wanted to protect Catherine, or to have made that promise about telling her everything in the first place? It seemed to him now it was the latter.

He loved Catherine as he had never loved anyone else. Being reunited with her was the greatest reward he could possibly have received; it balanced out everything for him – all of the years of suffering, all of the sacrifices he’d made, all of the physical pain he’d endured along the way. So wasn’t it natural, wasn’t it right for him to try to shield her? Wasn’t there was a difference between stifling her freedom and independence, as she had justly accused him of doing in their relationship in the past and keeping her from worrying about things he could settle without needing her involvement at all? It wasn’t as though he were trying to restrict her – hell, he’d made her Master of The Grey Council! But he should never have made that promise.

Valen retrieved the lock of hair and sat back up with a sigh, resting his forearms across his knees for a few breaths before rising to his feet. He was going to need his full concentration in the hours and days and weeks ahead; it wouldn’t do for him to remain preoccupied with guilt. He needed to remedy the situation at once. He padded his way back to the outer room in his underwear.

“Desk light on,” he directed, then searched for a sheet of paper. The message would have to be hand-delivered – he might as well hand-write it too. There was at least one advantage to the old-fashioned method, he mused as he took pen in hand, and that was that he and Catherine were both fluent in an undecipherable code that even the Station’s computers could no longer interpret … English. He contemplated the curl from Catherine’s hair again, then set it down on the desk in front of him and began to write.

Dearest Catherine,

Since I vowed full disclosure, there’s something otherwise minor I’m
compelled to tell you about – it was Ulkesh who sent that Minbari woman
to see me, hoping she’d be able to seduce me away from you. I doubt
you even remember it. And although I told you what happened, I didn’t
mention Ulkesh’s involvement. Now, I feel I should have.

Before I left I confronted Kosh about the situation and warned him
that if Ulkesh ever tries to come between us again, the Shadows will
be the least of their problems. So please believe me when I say that
you have nothing to worry about!

And don’t worry if you don’t hear from me again for a while – things are really heating up here.
It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it’s going to occupy me for quite some time.
Tell Delenn I love her and try to take it easy – don’t forget you have Tadeer and
The Nine and Kosh there to handle any problems!

All of my Love,
Valen

Valen reread the letter quickly and nodded in satisfaction. Hopefully, by just stating the facts without dwelling on them, he had fulfilled his obligation without unnecessarily upsetting her. He rolled the letter up and stowed it in one of the small, decorative tubes the Minbari carried documents in, took the tube back with him to the bedroom and laid it atop his coat so he wouldn’t forget it. Later on, he’d see to it that the next courier to Minbar delivered it directly to Catherine. Valen yawned and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up over his head. Now, he thought, now, maybe I can get a little sleep.

Chapter Text

-19-

Sakai stood mutely at the center of the room as The Nine filed out into the darkness. She shivered beneath her thick grey robes at the thought of what she was about to do.

Not once but twice, Tadeer had demonstrated a willingness to suffer or even die if necessary to protect her, as if she were The One, rather than the stupidly suspicious and wholly unworthy wife of that One. How could she repay that kind of loyalty with cruelty? She had rejected The Council’s suggestion as barbaric and gotten them to accept her alternative, but was her scheme really less awful than theirs? Either way, the choice had been made; now it only remained for her to actually carry the sentence out. She’d requested and received privacy for that terrible task, and so the Nine Satai had left the room. At any moment, a telepath would arrive, Tadeer would be sent back in and … Sakai waited until she was certain she was alone, then sank wearily to the floor, laying the Triluminary staff across her lap.

Slowly, almost absently, she rotated the shaft of the staff, eyeing the Triluminary at its center from different angles. She remembered Valen telling her that the Minbari had used it to help a telepath blank his mind at The Line. She closed her eyes and recalled Sinclair’s face as he sat beside her in bed that first time, after the War. Having dreamt of that day only recently, the image was clear in her mind. The strain had written deep lines between his eyes and across his forehead, and Jeff had clenched his jaw crookedly, baring his teeth. Until then, she’d never before seen an expression like that on his face, and it frightened her. The absolute, naked despair in his deep brown eyes as he confessed complete ignorance of what had happened to him on The Line remained one of the most painful sights she’d ever seen, and to the degree that her queries had lead to that expression, she'd felt a terrible sense of responsibility. She remembered their troubled love-making and how his obsession with trying to figure out what had occurred had ultimately driven them apart; for a time, he’d had no other desires or ambitions. And then, even after he’d made peace with his amnesia, how many nights had she spent holding him, listening to him, consoling him, arguing with him, after he’d woke them both up with his futile cries to Mitchell, his curses against the Minbari or an inarticulate scream? How many such nights had he endured alone? And remembering all of that as she did, could she really be ruthless enough to similarly afflict Tadeer? There had to be some other solution. There had to be!

A chime sounded, announcing the availability of the telepath, and Sakai awkwardly returned to her feet. She pulled the hood back over the top of her head and down across her eyes, then waited. Two figures entered, their heads bent downward, and as they approached, a pair of spotlights focused in on them from the overhead dome. One of the two was of course Tadeer, his face almost expressionless and his hands clasped in front of him in a gesture of utter submission. The other was an earnest young woman in pale yellow robes Sakai had never seen before. Just the idea of being in the same room with a telepath made her nervous, and while the Minbari made no attempt to touch her mind, Sakai felt vulnerable nonetheless. What if she tried to and saw what really happened that blustery evening at the base of the Sacred Window? It was a peculiar situation, she thought; there she stood, at the center of the circle, the ruler, albeit temporarily, of all of Minbar, and she was frightened by a girl half her age and a man whose life she held in her hands. Was it just her, or did wielding that kind of absolute power frighten Valen too? Why did she feel as much a prisoner as she did a potentate?

For several minutes all three of them simply stood there, joined by silence. Sakai looked up at the distant ceiling, still searching for a way out. Unexpectedly, some of Valen’s words came back to her; “we shape the future with our words and with our deeds.” The future, she thought, hadn’t yet arrived. It wasn’t too late to choose another way. Better to deceive The Nine than to destroy Tadeer. She doubted this was what Valen had meant when he’d praised her for being resourceful and independent, but it would have to do.

Sakai faced the young telepath and concentrated. The Triluminary flared and the girl froze in place, a vacant look in her eyes.

“Nothing out of the ordinary took place in this room,” Sakai instructed evenly. “You will remember only that you were summoned to perform an unremarkable task and that you did so. You vowed never to speak of what transpired in the Hall of The Grey Council, even to The Nine, should they test you in the future by asking. You will continue on your way once you have been dismissed, untroubled by thoughts of your actions.” Sakai turned next to Tadeer, but without aiming the Triluminary at him. “As far as anyone knows, Tadeer, your memories of what happened to Norenn have been erased and only The Grey Council remains in possession of the facts.” She bared her face to him. “I was supposed to inflict an irresolvable feeling of guilt on you, but I can’t do it, Tadeer; I can’t and I won’t. Not after what you’ve done for me. I’m relying on your word that no matter what happens from this day forth, you’ll keep the secret of what really happened with Norenn.” Tadeer looked up at her with relief and surprise.
“Satai Catherine! I …”
“No, don’t thank me Tadeer. I still have to send you away to someplace where our paths will never again cross. Valen must never know about any of this – not of what happened back there, and not of The Grey Council’s proceedings. He must never have the opportunity to question you about why you departed; that way you will never have to lie to him or break your word to me.” Sakai dropped her own eyes to the floor. “You’ve served us both with honor, Tadeer; in stepping forward to protect me and in guarding my reputation by any means necessary, you’ve demonstrated tremendous valor. I wish I could repay you in kind, and yet the best I can do is to continue to trust in your silence. I’m sorry, Tadeer.” She frowned sadly, but Tadeer smiled and bowed deeply to her, his hands folded into the triangular salute.
“You are wrong, Satai Catherine! You do me the greatest honor in this and I vow never to reveal our secrets – not even at the moment I am called to the stars. Thank you, Satai Catherine. Thank you for permitting me to continue to serve Valen’s house, even from afar!” Sakai blinked back the tears that stung her eyes, glanced at the telepath who still stood fixed in a trance, then dropped all formality and reached out to embrace Tadeer. As she put her arms around him, the Triluminary staff pressed against her collarbone, a sad reminder of the finality of their parting.
“I wish I could take it all back, Tadeer,” she sobbed; “I wish I’d never questioned your loyalty or Valen’s explanation; I wish I could bring Norenn back!” Tadeer shook his head as she released him.
“I know, Satai, I know. But it was not your fault – as I said, it was an accident. Truly, In Valen’s Name, it was!” Catherine only closed her eyes in reply. Then she covered over her face again before pivoting back to the telepath and concentrating on releasing her. The Triluminary flashed once more and Sakai re-addressed the telepath and Tadeer both.
“You are free to go now. Do so in peace.” Her subjects bowed, then turned and left the room, never looking back.

Chapter Text

-20-

Still yawning, Valen stepped out of the vibe shower and glanced at his face in the bathroom mirror. Despite the many years that had passed since the Chrysalis, he was still momentarily confused each and every time he caught sight of his reflection. There was something very different about the experience of seeing himself in a mirror than to be looking down at himself directly. He was accustomed enough to his altered body to be oblivious to it most of the time; just as he had explained to Catherine with reference to his dreams, he simply was. But then he’d catch a glimpse of himself, staring up from a well-polished desk or a shiny computer console, or even distorted on the surface of a spoon and for an instant he’d be taken aback, surprised by the reminder of who he had become.

He paused and studied his reflection; the thick brow ridges that shaded his eyes, the blue impression of something like a fern leaf, printed on his smooth scalp, the miniature ears, the hairlessness of his body, and of course, the enormous wings of bone. That remained the strangest part of all, perhaps because he could still vividly recall the nightmares he’d had a decade before upon first arriving on Minbar as Earth’s Ambassador. In those horrifying dreams, he discovered the crest growing from his head and tried, in terror, to tear it off. He reached up and touched the flaring edges of it tentatively, then laughed at himself. Yes, Jeff; it’s still there, still real; you’re Minbari all right! He eyed himself more closely, turned his head from side to side. Not a bad rack, he supposed, but he’d have to cut it back before he could squeeze his head into an Earth Force flight suit and take out a Starfury. He sighed at the idea of flying solo again, of being, however momentarily, responsible only for himself out there. Maybe he should have cashed it all in and gone into business with Carolyn Sykes ... sometimes it sounded pretty good. Well, for all of two seconds anyway, he laughed. He squinted at his face again. There were dark circles under his eyes – he looked like a man who’d only slept three hours in as many days. It was an annoying paradox – he couldn’t afford to appear weary, but he didn’t have the time to spare on rest either. Somehow, there was never enough time. Valen frowned as he finished giving himself the once-over. He was far from the worst-looking Minbari he’d ever seen, but he certainly didn’t begrudge Catherine’s nostalgia for his hair.

Actually, he was a bit regretful about the transformation. He’d do it all over again in a heartbeat – it had been necessary, no doubt about that – but he’d been proud of being Human, comfortable with claiming everything that being Human meant as part of his identity. It was going to be difficult at best to impart any of that to his children; to teach them to ignore the xenophobia of the Minbari culture and be glad for the heritage they would grow up thinking came only from their mother’s side. Valen left the bathroom and considered the issue further as he got dressed.

So far, it had been easy – Delenn had just begun to ask questions. But the older she got, the more she’d begin to demand to know. If she grew up to be anything like either him or Catherine, she’d keep pushing too, and never be satisfied with simple answers. And while he’d never broached the subject with Catherine, he worried about other things further into her future as well. As his child, Delenn’s place in Minbari society seemed secure. But what would happen on a more personal level? How would she react when she discovered the full extent of the differences between her body and those of other Minbari girls? What was going to happen once she hit adolescence?

Here the duality of his nature definitely became an impediment. Sure, his biology had changed; there were exclusively Minbari aspects to his sexuality now, but his desires both before and after that change focused on Catherine. He’d never really responded as a Minbari to a Minbari, unless he counted that aborted one-night-stand over four years ago. Even if he were the kind of guy who had a wandering eye, which he wasn’t, anything he thought or felt wouldn’t really say much about the true male Minbari libido anyway.

The little insight he had into what Minbari found attractive was worrisome. They expressed such revulsion about his union with Catherine. What if that was biologically rooted? What if the Minbari truly perceived Human traits like hair as some kind of a deformity or grotesqueness, not just different, intriguing or even perversely compelling? There was definitely an ingrained Minbari impulse toward the familiar, for conformity and order; Valen had sensed this urge in himself since the Chrysalis. He thought that he’d mostly ignored it, but perhaps on second thought he’d sublimated that drive. Maybe it had balanced out his old wanderlust and helped to account for his contentment with being largely planet-bound until now. But if that was the case, if what satisfied the Minbari most was familiarity, then what hope was there that any of his children would find mates when they grew up? He couldn’t answer this question to his own satisfaction, since it wasn’t a question of what the Minbari might do differently in bed together but what they thought and felt that eluded him; not the mechanics, but the psychology involved. Valen again ended up with nothing but his admittedly distorted experience to draw upon, for the Minbari weren’t nearly as insecure and vocal about their sexuality as Humans were. He’d never overheard Minbari men engaged in the equivalent of “locker room talk” about women for example, and it wasn’t the kind of thing he could ask anyone about (“excuse me, Marneer, but do you find my wife sexually attractive, and if not, why?”). Moreover, if there were such a thing as Minbari pornography, he was probably the last person on the planet anyone was about to show it to. No, Catherine would be the last person. He’d be the next to last.

“Computer? Time?” Valen asked, finding his voice. He still had an hour and a half of free time before his appointment with Marneer; time that he should have spent sleeping, but hadn’t. Clearly, there was no hope of that now, and no lack of things that needed doing. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and returned to his desk to prioritize matters. The most urgent item was the refugee problem. Most of them had joined the Rangers three years before, but there were always new people arriving and very old and very young people he didn't know what to do with. The key to his plan for defeating the Shadows involved a secret no one else knew – that B4 was capable of hyperspace travel. During the Earth-Minbari War, he had learned a lot of lessons; one of which was that it was neigh on impossible to defeat an enemy who brought their entire army, all at once, into your solar system. Valen’s intent was to bring Babylon 4, fully armed and with its Cobra and shuttle bays full of fighters, straight to Z’ha’dum. Before he could do so, he had to make sure the only people aboard were combatants. And so the question of where to send everyone else was the challenge he had to resolve. All right, Jeff, he told himself; you have ninety minutes. Figure it out.

Chapter Text

-21-

Catherine Sakai stood outside in her heavy winter robes, watching the snow settle with finality on Tuzanor, and praying she’d done the right thing. As she looked down from the garden gate across the Ranger encampment to the city below, she thought about the snow that was also falling in Yedor. Falling steadily until it completely covered the spot where Tadeer had thrown her to the ground; the place where Norenn stabbed herself; the lip from which Norenn had propelled herself over the cliff into the river below. This snow was drier than what had fallen the day before; it was the kind of snow that fell in millions of tiny flakes and remained all winter. It was the earliest and most abrupt snowfall in recent memory on Minbar, and Sakai was half-inclined to side with those Minbari who had noted how the cold weather and Valen’s departure coincided and concluded that there was a correlation between the two events.

Over a week had passed since she’d last visited Yedor; since the fateful Council meeting that had sealed Tadeer’s fate. How had she allowed things to spiral out of control so fast? Catherine shivered slightly, not from the cold wind, which barely pierced the padded layers of her clothing, but from the sense of doom that had settled over her. It was morning now, but last night, like the night before and the nights before that one, she had left the warm confines of the house and walked around her garden, hoping to find Kosh lurking there. Now that she wanted to speak with him, he hadn’t returned. She’d even sent Tadeer’s replacement, Hedrann, to inquire about the Vorlon’s whereabouts, but no one had seen him, and Kosh didn’t exactly leave copies of his itinerary lying around. Meanwhile, three young female acolytes from the Great Temple had moved into the house along with Hedrann. Delenn reveled in their attention, almost forgetting her misery over Valen’s departure. It was good to see her laugh again, and there should have been some comfort in having the house filled with activity, but Sakai was unable to feel it.

She lifted her eyes to the horizon. Somewhere out there, Tadeer was at a new job, living a new life; but it was one from which he was forbidden to leave, lest his path and Valen’s ever cross. The whole incident had been laid to rest, covered up by Sakai and The Council and the snow. Sakai supposed she should congratulate herself for her last-minute inspiration; she had, after all, spared Tadeer from an almost-certain death. And yet … Why had it been so easy to advise Valen all of these years and so difficult to rule in his absence? She glanced back at the house. At any minute, Mayan or Lencar or Malenn or Turaal would notice she was missing and come after her, lecturing her about her health and the doctor’s orders for bed rest. The doctor was right, of course – she really had been pushing herself too hard, as the irregular bursts of contractions continued to remind her. But she was too active a person to lay in bed all day, and she also couldn’t think in the house right now. And thinking was definitely in order. She needed to be someplace quiet and meditative where she could sort everything out before the next crisis arose. Sakai thought about the absolute darkness of the Great Hall with a strange sense of fondness. That was the kind of place she needed to go, but a trip to Yedor was out of the question. There had to be somewhere closer she could … yes, of course! No one would ever bother her there! Sakai cast a furtive glance at the house, then deliberately opened the gate and stole down the snowy path.

Chapter Text

-22-

The answer, Valen decided, lay with the First Ones. They were the ones most likely to know about any planets he could relocate the refugees to, and they’d have the ships necessary to transport them. As soon as Ulkesh arrived, Valen would have to ask him about it. Once that was settled, all that would be left was to let the Vorlons in on his plan to end the War.

Valen frowned into the darkness of his half-lit room and fidgeted again with the lock of Catherine’s hair. He was glad for that reminder of why he was there, because he had no illusions about what was to come; it was going to be bloody, perhaps the largest, bloodiest battle in the history of the galaxy. He knew from the occasional trips he’d taken into Kosh’s mind that the Vorlons had never struck directly at the Shadows before, and when he considered the consequences of such action, he understood why. But Valen recognized that the alternative would be far worse. It came down to this: either hundreds of thousands of soldiers on both sides would die, soon and in a handful of enormous, excruciatingly complex and destructive battles; or the Vorlons and Shadows would continue to carry out the conflict in their own way and billions upon billions of civilians on otherwise peaceful worlds would be tortured, enslaved and ultimately exterminated over the course of centuries.

In theory, he still had a choice to make, but like so many of the other decisions he’d faced; from ramming the Minbari Cruiser at The Line to consenting to travel back in time with B4 and enter the Chrysalis, Valen’s choices were often no choice at all. Reconciling himself to that reality had not been easy. In his first few years as Valen, he’d felt as though he’d relinquished his God-given right to free will, and that frustrated him no end. He remembered how once, long before Catherine had arrived, he’d considered leaving a message for Delenn so she could prevent the Earth-Minbari War from taking place. He’d been heartbroken by the realization that he couldn’t risk altering the future that way. Without the Earth-Minbari War, there would have been no Battle of The Line, no revelation for Delenn and The Council or for himself as Sinclair, no Babylon Stations built and thus no base for him to bring back here, to the First Shadow War. There was an order to things; the cross he had to bear was to acknowledge that and surrender to it.

For Valen, who as Sinclair had believed that a stubborn refusal to accept the negative lay at the very core of what defined Humanity and most specifically his own, it was quite a cross indeed. The idea of not taking up arms against the slaughter of innocents, of essentially standing back and watching it all unfold unimpeded was an anathema to him. Even after he’d agreed intellectually with Kosh’s warning against tampering with future events of such magnitude, Valen had been anguished. He remembered hurling himself into battle that day with unmatched ferocity; fighting so angrily and with such a thorough lack of concern for his own life that the people the battle was against not only surrendered, but actually renounced the Shadows and begged to join the Anla’shok. And yet that hadn’t been enough. He’d spent days afterwards praying for guidance, unwilling to believe that God would really want him to do nothing with this particular foreknowledge. At some point he was forced to conclude that since he was undeniably living his Destiny, all of it came from God. He had always been a stubborn man, but not an arrogant one – certainly not arrogant enough to challenge God. So in the end, he had to learn to live with occasional inaction. What surprised him was how free he’d felt once he’d come to terms with the situation. Oddly, Valen found that the more awful and unavoidable the choices before him seemed, the more certain he was that he was doing what had to be done.

He stood up from the desk and paced around the room a little, stretching his legs, then returned to the kitchenette to satisfy the hunger that repossessed him. He settled on one of the pieces of fruit he had earlier rejected, and while he ate it at the counter he reflected on what Ulkesh’s response would be when he revealed his plan. Again he felt something of an unwilling messenger, because he knew that at the end of it all, he’d have to allow some of the Shadows to escape; to flee all the way to Mars, where they would bury themselves deep underground and wait for the Psi Corps to dig them up again. It was the same bind as before; if he stopped them, Earth Gov would never have sent him there to investigate, he would never have met and befriended Michael Garibaldi, he wouldn’t have known what a Shadow ship looked like before leaving the 2260s and wouldn’t have believed the stories Kosh and Delenn and Rathenn had told him, wouldn’t have agreed to become Anla’shok Na and so on. So he had to let it happen. And as for what Ulkesh would say, Valen had no illusions about that either. But that didn’t matter; he had to confront the Vorlon with the truth – with what they would both recognize was the truth, and hope that Ulkesh would be brave enough to respond it appropriately. He could hear the conversation in his mind, although he imagined it would be more of a lecture than a conversation:

“Now that we’ve agreed about the refugee situation, now that our forces are massed and ready, Ulkesh,” he would say, “it’s time for me to apprise you of the remainder of my war plans … I’ve been keeping a secret that I’m now ready to share. This Station has jump engines! It’s capable of making the jump to hyperspace, and I’m going to use that little surprise to end this War … I’m taking Babylon 4 to the heart of the problem, Ulkesh Naranek; I’m taking her to Z’ha’dum.”
“No!” Valen found himself savoring the dumbfounded expression he imagined would cross Ulkesh’s falsely angelic face. He had long ago seen Kosh for who and what he was, and that had marked the beginning of a new and mutually respectful stage in their acquaintance. But Ulkesh still imagined that he was in all ways superior to Valen and that he could engineer Valen’s responses, and so on the rare occasions when they spoke to each other, Ulkesh had either remained in his encounter suit or presented himself to Valen as the Archangel Michael, brilliant white wings and all. Valen had no doubt that Ulkesh truly believed he was fighting Satan, and Lord only knew he was quick to pass judgment on mortal men, but that was as far as the metaphor went. The illusion held no power over him -- if anything, it made Valen angry. Ulkesh had a knack for doing that. Valen returned to his imaginary conversation and considered what his reply would be.
“Yes. Look, I didn’t travel back in time a thousand years, give up everything I’d been and known just to help you and the Shadows play pan-galactic war games using us “younger races” for cannon fodder. In case you hadn’t noticed, Ulkesh, my personal experience having come from the future gives me an understanding of your race -- the Vorlons no one else has. I know how you’ve manipulated the Humans, the Minbari, the Narn, the Drazi, a host of others, and I’m sure you thought you could use me as the ultimate tool. You figured you’d have me to do all the organizational legwork and unite all of these people in the kind of way you never could; the thing is, you didn’t count on me realizing you couldn’t do it without me.” Ulkesh would glower and Valen decided he’d smile at him. “There’s no question about it -- you know how to force a response from us with angelic imagery, but you aren’t one of us, you don’t think or feel like us, you don’t know how to talk to us, how to motivate our hearts and convince us to deny the demands of evolution and the instinct for self-preservation and plunge headlong into this war, because you don’t understand what really matters to ordinary mortal beings. And that’s why you need me. You see us all the way you’ve seen Catherine – as unimportant, interchangeable, ‘irrelevant!” Individuals mean nothing to you, and groups of us barely more. If a few of our worlds are destroyed outright, a few races are driven to extinction, well, others will evolve in a million or so years, right? How is that different from the Shadows’ agenda, Ulkesh? You not only don’t understand us; you’ve lost track of who you are! But that’s a problem I don’t have time to get involved with – that’s for someone else to explain to you in another place, another time. My problem is that the Shadows are awake and they’re hell-bent on murder, violence and destruction. And those worlds, those people you’re both willing to sacrifice matter to me! Like it or not, and I’m sure you don’t, Ulkesh, I’m calling the shots this time! So we’re going to play it my way. And I think it’s about time the First Ones start making some sacrifices!”

It was at about this point that Valen figured Ulkesh would try to kill him … or reluctantly agree that he was right. He laughed to himself and shook his head before discarding the inedible core of the fruit and washing up. He was sure it was a mistake, but he was really looking forward to pissing Ulkesh off. Wasn’t he entitled to just a little bit of revenge for Ulkesh having tried to interfere with his marriage and jerking that woman Norenn around? Father Raffelli would of course tell him “no,” but Valen knew he was going to enjoy the moment anyway. Assuming that he was right about being too important for Ulkesh to kill. If he was wrong, he’d die from hubris, which would only be fair and fitting.

Valen returned to the desk and swept his coat off from around the back of the chair. He paused to run his thumb across the surface of the blue-green cabochon stone at the heart of Catherine’s Isil’zha; paused to think about her and Delenn for just long enough to bring a smile to his lips. Now it was time to return to the ugly business of War. He pulled the coat on over the rest of his Ranger uniform, tugged at the hem of his tunic to remove the wrinkles and headed for the door. He had just arrived at the transport tube at the other end of the hall when the doors opened and he came face to face with Marneer. They both started in surprise and Valen chuckled briefly.

“I was just on my way back to the office to meet you,” he said.
“And I you, Entil'Zha.” Marneer stepped to one side so that Valen could enter the lift.
“I have been thinking about the refugee situation …” Valen began as the doors closed. Marneer did a double-take.
“That was precisely the matter on which I was coming to speak to you …”
“You’re not a telepath, are you Marneer?” Valen joked lightly.
“N-n-n-no, Entil'Zha; if I were, I would most certainly have told you so …”
“It wasn’t an accusation, Marneer, it was a joke. Apparently, a bad one. At any rate, before we can make our final move against the Shadows,” Valen continued, “that problem must be remedied. We need to relocate as many civilians as possible to more secure locations. I realize this will be a difficult operation, given the vast numbers of people involved, but I …”
“That is what I came to tell you, Valen,” Marneer interjected excitedly, “yet again the new refugees have decided to join the Anla'shok!

Chapter Text

-23-

“It’s all right, Drenar,” Sakai said as the Minbari blocking the gate to her old home drew his denn’bok menacingly at her approach. “It’s me, Catherine Sakai.” She pulled back the thick hood of her winter coat, baring her head and offering incontrovertible proof of her identity. The guard’s forehead crinkled in surprise and he quickly retracted his weapon, then wordlessly moved to open the door for her. Sakai expected it would take a while for him to push it against the drifting snow, but it opened smoothly. She glanced at the garden inside and saw that someone had shoveled a path all the way to the front door of the house, as if they were expecting Valen to arrive at any moment and ask to go in. “Thank you,” she said simply, covering her head again with a shiver. She took a deep breath of the cold air and stepped over the portal, and Drenar pulled the heavy wooden door closed behind her. Sakai looked around with some trepidation. As strange as it had been to stand there with Valen and Delenn a few weeks before, it was even stranger now.

As her eyes followed the flow of the heavy snow that settled against the walls of the small stone house and the mounds of it piled upon the trees and bushes, Sakai found her thoughts drifting back to the one winter during which she’d lived there. They had been cold, dark, interminable months. She’d been holed up inside, nervously hiding her identity from Rathmer and reluctant to voice her discontent to Valen, who had enough problems on his hands already. On at least two occasions, late evening ice storms had kept Valen and Zathras from returning as planned from meetings elsewhere on Minbar, and Sakai had been uncertain which idea frightened her more – the thought that some harm might have come to Valen, or of what terrible fate would befall her if that were true. In the end the pair had made it home safe and sound, but a new trial began for her as she tried to hide her previous concern from Valen. She could laugh it off as long as Zathras was there with them, but the moment she and Valen were alone; as soon as he took her in his arms … Perhaps I can fool the Minbari, The Grey Council, even my own daughter, she thought bitterly, but I never could hide my true feelings from Valen. It’s a damn good thing he’s so far away now. Catherine sighed and her breath hung in the air in a small white cloud. Moving cautiously, she began to trudge through the garden, still remembering.

When she looked back on it, she realized that nothing had seemed entirely real to her in those strange days. Until the moment when she and Valen had literally been exposed, she’d been sleepwalking though life, expecting to awaken in that very same house one thousand years later, with Jeff Sinclair’s wonderfully warm and hairy body pressed up against her. “You’ll never believe the wild dream I just had,” she’d tell him, and Jeff would listen attentively, then nod in understanding, reminding her that he too had been troubled by peculiar dreams ever since his first night in Valen’s haunted house. Comforted, she’d further confess that in the dream, he had been Valen. Sinclair would laugh that rich, deep laugh of his and mockingly scold her for blaspheming in the Great Man’s own bed, then dare her to tell Satai Neroon about her perverse fantasy. They’d dissolve in laughter at the thought of the warrior’s reaction and perhaps make love before breakfast. Now, that familiar reality had itself become a fantasy. It was a wonder she could keep any of it straight at all.

No amount of snowfall could camouflage the tree where Zathras had been buried. As she stared at it two separate and awful images came to her; Valen’s vicious, gory den’sha with the warrior Kadenn, and Valen burying Zathras later the same year. The fight she had actually seen, but during Zathras’ hurried burial, she’d been searching their room for the Triluminary before someone returned for her. Still, she could imagine the scene clearly. She pictured Valen, surrounded by the angry mob of Minbari and wearing another man’s clothes, standing waist-deep in the ground. His face and body were smeared with dirt; within hours he’d be similarly drenched in his own blood. He tightened his torn hands around a shovel and dug steadily beneath the crowds’ furious and disapproving eyes. Nearby, in the shade of the tree, lay Zathras’ small, broken, bloody body, shockingly silent and motionless. And why was he dead? Because of her, because of her union with Valen. Tears welled up in Catherine’s eyes and she decided to detour over to the tree.

She left the shoveled walkway and plunged knee-deep into the snow. Catherine imagined she could see the faint red glow of the hidden f’rnerm stones from beneath the white blanket. She thrust her gloved hands into the snow and began digging away at the spot where she thought the grave was located. The cold wetness soaked through her pants and the floor-length vest she wore, but she ignored the discomfort and kept working. After a few minutes, Catherine was rewarded by an unmistakable ruby light shining through a thin layer of snow. She brushed the snow away and looked down into the hole with satisfaction.

Sakai had only known Zathras for about a year before he was murdered, but alongside the guilt she felt for her role in his demise, she recalled him with bemused fondness. Valen was right – there had been something deceptively childlike and innocent about Zathras. Sakai wondered now if it was all an act – a performance Zathras had given consciously, knowing that it allowed him, like a medieval court jester, the freedom to voice the things others could or would not. There had also been something priestly and mysterious about him; he demanded nothing for himself, renounced any personal desire for money or glory or sex or love. No, all Zathras ever asked for was the privilege of serving The One. A strange, special soul, Catherine thought as she folded her arms tightly across her chest and buried her wet hands in her armpits for warmth. Part court jester, part self-indentured servant, part monk – the Laughing Buddha – that was who Zathras had been. She smiled sadly at the glowing rocks then shivered and stamped her feet. Time to get inside, before she got sick. “Goodbye, Zathras,” she told the red stones. “I need to go in where it’s warm.” She lifted her legs as high as she could and slogged back to the shoveled walkway, then hurried to the house. The door slid open upon her approach and she entered eagerly, glad to get out of the wind.

Catherine took off her coat and discovered most of her clothes were sopping wet – she hadn’t dressed appropriately for such a spur-of-the-moment expedition. She leaned against the wall for balance and struggled to take off her boots, then pulled off her pants and long vest and hung everything from the hooks mounted by the door. The tunic she was wearing reached to just above her knees and thus hadn’t gotten wet – not that it mattered much since she knew no Minbari would get past Drenar. Already she could feel the room heating up; the automatic sensors in the floor had detected her presence. She glanced around the living room. There wasn’t much to see.

The place was exactly the same as it had been on the fateful day they’d left it; the day her identity was discovered and Valen was dragged off to Trial, charged with miscegenation. It would look this way again the first time she’d enter the house a thousand years into the future. Like the bedroom and the small dining room beyond, the living room was sparse, clean and devoid of any personal touches other than a small library of scroll books Sinclair had accumulated and then abandoned there. Despite, or perhaps because of the simplicity of the place, it had a kind of cozy charm. The stone walls were a soft, opaque shade of blue and a pair of small windows faced the garden. The sills were pale lavender, also the natural color of the rock. Light from the overcast sky filtered through a series of translucent crystal panels imbedded in the ceiling. A desk, chair and computer were off to the left in a corner beside the door to the hall. A couch, a pair of armchairs and a table sat on the right, along with a small metal chest and a simple throw rug. The monasticism of the house’s decor stood in stark contrast to the rich and sometimes riotous designs the Minbari favored in their clothing, but then it was Valen’s house and he’d never been given to excess in much of anything.

Catherine walked down the hall. On one side was a closet, and on the other, the bedroom. She hesitated at the bedroom door, then opened it. This was the room where the truth had come crashing down upon them, the room where Zathras had died, but to her surprise and relief, she saw none of that. Just another chair, another decorated metallic chest, and that damn Minbari bed, now restored to the steep angle the Minbari preferred. Catherine smiled softly – she’d shared some delightful moments in that bed with Jeff, even if she’d never stopped wishing it were wider and softer. Sinclair had jammed up the mechanism to keep the platform horizontal, but sleeping on it had still been like sleeping on a rock. It was a good thing his chest had made for such an agreeable pillow.

Sighing, Catherine held her aching belly in her hands, then decided a trip to the bathroom was in order. When she was done, she decided to return to the living room where she could lay down on the couch and do some serious thinking. As she entered the room, she found that Kosh was waiting for her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Kosh! How …” No, that answer was obvious – what Minbari would deny a Vorlon request? “What are you doing here?”
“Studying.”
“So you’ve said,” she frowned, folding her arms across her chest. “And I’m not sure what to make of that. Why don’t you just ask me what it is you want to know instead of sneaking up on me all the time?”
“We must be certain,” Kosh replied enigmatically.
“Certain? About what?” Kosh swept across the smooth stone floor. Catherine stood her ground, her eyes bright.
“You.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded with growing discomfort, shifting her weight from one hip to the other and dropping her arms and again cradling her heavy belly in her hands.
“You are in question.”
“What do you mean, I’m ‘in question’? Didn’t Valen settle all of this years and years ago in the StarFire Wheel?”
“Valen is not in question. You are in question.”

This time, as Kosh skimmed forward, Catherine took a step back and stumbled into the door jam. Her initial annoyance with Kosh’s intrusion and his cryptic words was turning to concern. There was something menacing about him, and that was confusing; hadn’t Valen said he’d asked Kosh to help her? So why was he behaving in such a confrontational manner? Why was her heart pounding so rapidly? One of the first lessons of Ranger training was to learn to heed one’s instincts, one’s “gut feelings.” The more primitive parts of the brain, they were taught, send out warnings long before the conscious mind notes specific clues and analyzes them. Rather than dismiss this intuitive gift for fear of looking foolish or unduly emotional, Rangers were taught to recognize and act upon it. Right now, Catherine’s sixth sense was warning her that something was very, very wrong.

“What question?” she murmured, her eyes darting around the room as she looked for a means of escape.
“Who are you?” Kosh asked, closing the distance between them and preventing her from going anywhere.
“Oh, that question …” Catherine replied dismissively, feebly trying to conceal her growing nervousness even as she leaned backwards into the wall. “Well, the sooner you leave, the sooner I can I give you an answer … that’s why I came here – to think – to work that out for myself.”
“Yes.” Kosh tilted the head-like portion of his encounter suit at her. “You will submit,” he ordered flatly.
“Submit?” Catherine laughed incredulously. “Maybe you don’t realize just who you’re talking to! I’m not some naïve Minbari from this era who’ll fall worshipfully to her knees upon your command! Valen shares everything with me – what he knows, I know! And we know who you are!”
“Impudent! You know nothing. You will submit.” Catherine bit her lip and glowered at him.
“Get out of my way, Kosh,” she insisted hotly; “I’ve no interest in continuing this conver …” She began to push past him, but as soon as her shoulder contacted his encounter suit, the green dial on his “head” ratcheted open. A narrow beam of green light shot from the wide aperture and caught Catherine, pinning her to the wall. She gasped in shock, then struggled to break free. It was useless – she was frozen in place, unable to move.
“You will submit,” Kosh repeated. Catherine tried to will her limbs to obey, but found that even speaking took tremendous effort. There was nothing else she could do.
“Let me go, Kosh!” she cried, all of the bravado gone from her voice. “For Valen’s sake, think of my unborn children!”
“They are irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?” she echoed in disbelief. “How can you say that? Don’t you realize anything you do to me affects them too? Maybe I’ve offended you, but they haven’t even been born yet!”
“Yes. Irrelevant.” Catherine was stunned by his callousness.
“Delenn then! She’s here; she needs me!”
“Who is with her now?” Kosh noted accusingly.
“You can’t do this to me!” she begged; “I’m here for a reason! Why would you have traveled back from the twenty-third century to help Valen find me if I wasn’t needed here?”
“Yes. Why?” Catherine concentrated again on freeing herself, to no avail. “Your purpose may have been fulfilled. We must know. You will submit.” Kosh regarded her silently for a moment. “You will submit – or you will die.”
“It seems like you’ve already decided what you’re going to do to me, so why should I cooperate?”
“The river must run its proper course. There can be no doubt.” Kosh paused before continuing. “You have doubt,” he asserted, and Catherine swallowed hard. “Doubt about yourself.”
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly.
“We offer resolution.” Unexpectedly, the green light vanished and Kosh released her. Catherine slumped to the floor in exhaustion. A strong contraction rocked her body and she doubled over, clutching her sides with both hands. Gasping, she looked up at Kosh through the sweaty tendrils of hair plastered against her face. “Submit.”
“My children …” she begged. “Please promise me you won’t do anything that will hurt them – that you’ll let them live! I, I’ll do whatever you ask if you promise me that,” she groaned painfully. The feelers on Kosh’s suit whirled around silently as Catherine fell to her side, still curled in a helpless ball.
“Agreed,” he finally replied, with obvious reluctance. Catherine closed her eyes. What in the world had she consented to?

She squinted through her tears and watched as the colorful panel on the front of Kosh’s suit split open down the center. A slender rod extended out from the crack. At the end of the rod were three silvery phalanges that held what appeared to be a small test tube. A thick, purple liquid shimmered inside the tube. Catherine eyed it with dread.

“Drink,” Kosh directed her emotionlessly.
“Why? What is it? What will happen if I do?” Kosh said nothing. “Is it safe for the babies inside me? You promised ...” Still no reply.

Catherine unfolded herself slowly and awkwardly hauled herself onto her knees. Grimacing, she took the small container from him. She brought it to her face with a trembling hand and sniffed at it dubiously. There was something vaguely familiar about the substance, but she couldn’t place it. Was it a remedy or a poison? When and where had she encountered it before?

“Drink.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then tossed back the contents of the vial in a single gulp. Immediately, she regretted it. The substance burned her tongue, her throat, her chest, and she coughed violently, then suffered through another agonizing series of contractions. Bravely, she wiped her stinging lips with the back of her hand, then fell against the door jam with a shudder. Through it all, Kosh watched her silently.

“N,n,now,” she stuttered weakly; “now what happens to me?”
“Now,” Kosh hummed; “now you dream.”

Chapter Text

-24-

Dreaming can take us forward; dreaming can take us …back.

“Get your hands off me,” Sakai snapped furiously, breaking away from Sinclair and heading for the door. “You want to waste your life, fine; just don’t expect me to stick around and watch you do it!”
“Damn it, Catherine,” he snarled back, punching a fist down on the back of the chair next to him. “You’re asking me to sacrifice my career …”
“Career?” she mocked, “What career?” Sakai spun around and faced him again. “What is it going to take before you realize Earth Force doesn’t give a damn about you any more? They’ve been shunting you from one lousy post to another ever since the War!" Sinclair’s spine stiffened and he clenched his hands tighter. “Look at yourself, Jeff! You were born on Mars! What the hell are you doing here breaking Martian heads for Earth Gov?”
“It’s not like that!” Sinclair insisted, his voice a harsh whisper. “The food riots aren’t doing anyone any good – peace has to be restored! If I’m here, that’s one less racist Earther out to crush the Mars autonomy movement! I can make a difference here …”
“Or you could make a life – with me!” She strode back over and looked at him imploringly. “I’m offering you an opportunity to turn things around; a partnership, a stake in my business, as an equal, and you react like I’m the enemy! I’m tired of coming in second to your misplaced sense of loyalty and duty, Jeff! When are you going to see it’s not Earth Force who cares about you; it’s not Earth Force who loves you?” Sinclair turned his head and took two steps away from her before replying.
“You just don’t understand,” he muttered fiercely, “you’ve never understood what it means to be responsible to something greater than your own happiness, and I guess you never will!”
“You’re right – I don’t understand – I don’t understand why you’re so damn stubborn, why you insist on letting Earth Force ruin your life! And you know what? I don’t want to! This is it, Jeff, if you can’t at least consider my offer, I’ve had it – it’s over!” She glared at him, waiting for him to do something, say something, anything that she could read as a sign, an excuse to stay. Instead, Sinclair just stood there glowering, his face dark and contorted, his body rigid and tense, and stared back wordlessly. His restraint made her even angrier, and she stormed to the door and threw it open.

Chapter Text

-25-

Sakai was greeted by the familiar blackness of space, and yet she had the sense that there was something odd, something menacing, just out of sight. She dropped her eyes down to the controls in front of her and when she lifted them again, she saw it – an almost metallic shimmering effect separated the enemy from the star field beyond. It moved like a jellyfish; bobbing uneasily, restlessly, on the surface of the sea of stars, its poisonous tentacles wavering and stretching toward her. Impossibly, across the vacuum of space, she heard it scream inside her mind, and she found herself unable to move, too confused to think. She knew she needed to do something – fast – before it was too late, but the terrible high-pitched sound destroyed her concentration. The next thing she knew, there was a brilliant streak of purplish light and a violent quake; her ship had been struck and was spinning out of control. Over and over her small fighter tumbled around until it passed through the blue ring of energy that defined the time rift. The vessel wheeled around again and she saw another burst of gunfire, this time coming from Sinclair’s ship. The damaged Shadow ship veered in her direction and she caught a fleeting glimpse of Sinclair’s fighter speeding forward in pursuit.

“I’m coming through after you,” she heard Sinclair’s deep voice assuring her through the static on her com system. “Just hang on. Catherine! Can you hear me? I’ll be there. I promise!” She wanted to say something back, but she was already losing consciousness.

Colors and lights seemed to explode around her, through her, beside her, and then just as rapidly, everything returned to black.

Chapter Text

-26-

“Catherine!” Sinclair exclaimed in surprise. Nothing more, just her name, but she could hear it in his voice, see it in the painfully polite smile that floated superficially across his face. Once again, she realized, she’d come to her senses too late. Once again, she’d left him, then found him, only to discover that during the time in between, she’d lost him to someone else. He opened his arms and embraced her dutifully in a brief, almost brotherly hug, then let her go twice as quickly, confirming her worst fears.
“Jeff, I, I …” Catherine lost her voice as she looked up into his eyes and saw him running through a full spectrum of emotions in a matter of seconds. It was all there – the usual round up in the usual order; interest, attraction, affection, desire, lust, passion, love, anger, pain, resentment, resignation, regret and finally, worst of all, pity. If only she’d gotten to him before he’d reached pity.
“Well, what do you know?” he began diplomatically. “What brings you to Io?” What was she going to say – the truth? That she came there looking for him? Hoping he’d be alone, hoping he’d give her another chance? Hardly. It would be a cold day in hell before she’d admit to that, given what she saw in his eyes and hearing what she heard in his voice.
“Business; you know, the usual,” she replied as casually as she could. Inwardly, she felt dizzy, almost nauseous, and she sensed the blood rushing to her embarrassed cheeks. “I, I just saw you standing here and thought I should say hello …”
“Well, good, good. I’m glad you did,” he assured her, but in the relentlessly upbeat tone he only used when he was lying through his teeth. She recognized immediately what that had to mean and looked past him, searching the busy customs area for the woman who had replaced her; seeing if she could guess who would be sleeping in Lieutenant-Commander Jeffrey D. Sinclair’s bed that night while she holed up alone in a austere rented cubicle. Meanwhile, they both nodded awkwardly, Sinclair stashing his hands in his pockets, Catherine feeling an all-too-familiar cloud of depression and self-disgust settling in around her.
“And you? New assignment?” she inquired routinely, as if she hadn’t researched his location and tracked him down to this very spot.

She honestly didn’t hear his pro forma reply – something to do with new orders from Earth Force; being assigned to some kind of special patrol. What did it matter? She was too late. They nodded some more. Catherine redistributed her weight from one hip to the other uncomfortably, and as she tried to force a courteous smile to her lips, she saw her -- someone who had clearly recognized Sinclair from behind. Someone then, who had lingered on that view often enough, with enough interest, to identify him from that perspective. She was about 5’7”, not gorgeous, but certainly attractive, thin in a wiry rather than willowy way, with a wild mane of long, red hair. Yup. That had to be the one. She had the look; the self-assured, independent, take-no-prisoners attitude all the women Jeff dated displayed. She liked it on top and Jeff was happy to oblige her … the bitch.

Sinclair must have noticed Sakai’s eyes lock on to something, because he turned to follow her gaze, and as she glanced back at his face she caught a faint but unmistakable half-smile creep unbidden to his lips. She looked again at the woman in the green fatigues, who was now only a few feet away. Damn! She’d blown any chance she’d had of saving face at this point. There was no where to run to and no way to avoid the final, inevitable insult. Sinclair was too damn polite and fine a Christian soul to dish it out to her in public by labeling her as “his ex,” or “the woman who’d broken his heart … again.” No, she was going to have to stand here and grin stupidly as he unselfconsciously put his arm around the waist of his new flame, then introduced her to the interloper as “Catherine Sakai, an old friend from the Academy.” She’d have to laugh and remark upon what a wonderful coincidence it was to have happened upon him here, and oh, who is this, Jeff; I hope you’ll both be ever so happy. She could hardly blame him; last time they'd run into each other she’d shamelessly flaunted her new lover in his face. Karma. It was karma. What goes around, comes around. She swallowed hard.

“Carolyn!” he hailed the stranger, with all the warmth in his voice that had been absent in his greeting to Catherine. He was kind enough not to kiss her in front of Catherine, but as expected, he drew her body close against his own and smiled openly. Bitterly, Sakai began to realize how much she’d missed his smile. He held out a hand as he presented one woman to the other. “Carolyn, this is …” Here it comes, thought Sakai. “An old friend of mine, from my days at the Academy; Catherine Sakai. Catherine, this is Carolyn, Carolyn Sykes.” The redhead dropped her own arm from around Sinclair’s waist and reached out to offer Sakai a handshake. Mechanically, Catherine took it, then nodded. “Catherine’s in – or was in – a similar line of work as you, Carolyn. Are you still an independent surveyor, Cath?” Resenting his use of that familiar diminutive in front of his new girlfriend, she narrowed her eyes in a brief burst of anger, then regained control.
“Oh, you know it,” she laughed painfully. The strain of keeping a false smile on her face was giving her a headache. “In fact, I just upgraded the engines on Skydancer with the profits from my last commission.”
“That’s great, great.” Sinclair noted superficially. “Carolyn runs her own business too, as a trader.” He looked at his lover with a brief smile of anticipation. “Well, we’ve really got to be going – we’ve got dinner reservations at nineteen hundred hours, Carolyn; hope that’s okay?” Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to Sakai with an expression that was somewhere between wistful and vexed. “It was good seeing you again, Catherine; take care of yourself, okay?” She shook her head and bit back the tears burning behind her eyes.
“Thanks,” she replied hollowly. “You too.”

She didn’t know it then, but before she’d leave the Transfer Point, she’d run into him again, alone. Somehow they’d get into a terrible argument and Catherine would end up vowing to avoid any future contact with him, thus ending their decade-long cycle of passion and misery once and for all. At that moment, however, Sakai only knew of the pain and loss and self-recriminations she felt as she watched Sinclair and Sykes walking away, happily entwined.

Chapter Text

-27-

Sakai looked up at Sinclair; a tall, handsome figure backlit by the subtle colors of the Minbari dawn, and wondered what he was thinking; wondered if he was harboring any last-minute doubts. So much had happened so quickly in the few short months since she’d joined him on Minbar and she still had so many unanswered questions. But if there was one thing Catherine was certain of, it was that Jeffrey Sinclair would keep any and all of his doubts to himself.

She glanced furtively at Neroon, whose fierce and unreadable expression hadn’t changed the slightest throughout the ceremony, then over at Rathenn, who continued to intone from the ancient holy book. Finally, she returned her attentions to Sinclair, who was wearing a familiar, solemn mask – Neroon, she realized, wasn’t the only one on that platform whose expression revealed little more than the fact that he was paying attention to the proceedings. She reflected sadly upon the circumstances under which Jeff had perfected his polished façade of complete emotional control and then eyed Neroon again, this time with an unexpected sense of sympathy. She recalled her own shock at learning that the Minbari surrendered at the Battle of The Line because they believed that Jeff possessed a reincarnated Minbari soul. If she and he had found that idea outlandish, even preposterous, what must the proud Satai of the Warrior Caste have thought? In a strange way, Neroon and Sinclair were two sides of the same coin; both fierce patriots, both traumatized by the Earth-Minbari War, now duty-bound to fulfill this ceremony because of an ancient prophecy neither of them believed in.

What was Jeff thinking, what was he feeling behind that firmly set, square jaw of his, those deep-set eyes he now had fixed unblinkingly on a point in the middle of the crowd staring back at him? She couldn’t imagine being in his position, being the focal point of an alien religion and a very contemporary dispute. Two-thirds of the planet believed his existence had been divinely foretold, while the other third asserted he was unqualified, incompetent and presumptuous and that his presence on their world was itself heretical. One misstep and he might ignite a holy war. They had briefly discussed and quickly dismissed any possibility of him actually being the person alluded to in Valen’s prophecy, but that didn’t in any way lessen the responsibility that would come with the title Entil'Zha – “The One Who Creates and Guides the Future.” Had his experiences in Earth Force or with Earth Gov adequately prepared him for such a challenge? Could anything ever ready anyone for such a job? Standing beside him now, she quickly discarded the question. Right now it wasn’t Minbari expectations or Minbari religion that really concerned her, but Sinclair’s health. He looked so self-possessed; nothing in his dignified posture or intense expression betrayed him as a man about to risk suicide.

Nervously, she picked up the goblet that held the toxic Minbari concoction central to the ritual, and reluctantly brought it to him. Sinclair smiled secretly at her and their fingertips brushed as he took the chalice from her trembling hands. Almost at once, her eyes fell back onto the fluid inside the crystal glass. Sha’neyat, the Minbari called it. “Death-destroyer.” It was an intense, reddish-purple color, thick as prune juice, with a velvety sheen. Exactly what, if any effect it had on the Minbari, she didn’t know, nor in all honesty, did she care. It could have been Valen’s favorite after-dinner aperitif for all it mattered. What did matter to her was that this particular combination of juice, seeds and herbs had the power to kill Sinclair, and everyone there in Tuzanor knew it. What mattered was that his respect for the Minbari and their traditions was so great he was willing to drink some of it anyway.

Catherine worried that he hadn’t thought this part through logically, that he was thinking magically; behaving as though offering his life so humbly and unsparingly would somehow protect him from the scientific facts of Human biochemistry. She knew that if Jeff lived to argue with her about it, he would vehemently deny such an allegation; as he always did when she accused him of trying to be a hero, but how else to explain his insistence on going through with this lethal gambit? What other reason could there be besides blind faith? She suspected this side of him would always remain a mystery to her.

Rathenn’s voice grew louder as he pronounced the dreaded blessing:

“Taste of it. Taste of the future. Of Death. And of Life. And of the Great Void that lies between …”

The dreaming Sakai reexamined the violet liquid Sinclair was tilting toward his lips, recognized it, and screamed ….

Chapter Text

-28-

Valen spun his Starfury around on the diagonal a full 360 degrees, simply to remind himself that he could. He smiled happily, appreciating the return of that rare sense of both mastery and excitement he felt every time he climbed into the cockpit. He and a small squadron of fighter pilots had been escorting the first convoy of transports containing civilian refugees from B4 to one of Minbar’s small colony worlds, where they would live at least until the War was over. They had traveled only so far as the second jumpgate; a second team from homeworld was taking the transports the rest of the way. Valen wished that he had more ships to spare for the effort – protecting the lives of innocents was, after all, his top priority. He had weighed out the likelihood of the Shadows attacking the dispossessed a second time, however, and concluded that even if they learned of the transfer, they would probably choose to leave him with the greater burden of living refugees. And after the many grueling days he’d spent commanding Babylon 4, overseeing repairs of the station, arranging for training sessions for his thousands of new soldiers, finding places to send the refugees and coordinating the movements of his forces, Valen would be the first to admit that it was a burden, however welcome. So when the opportunity to briefly take on the simple role of mere fighter pilot presented itself, Valen decided to pass up yet another well-earned night of sleep and indulge himself instead.

Ostensibly, he was there as a symbol. Whether he was comfortable with it or not, there was no denying that he’d become an emblem of hope for millions, even a kind of messiah. There would be plenty of time to disabuse people of that notion after the War – for now he had to “play the role as needed,” as Kosh had told him back in the Twenty-Third Century. By making the first leg of the journey with the refugees, he hoped to stress his personal interest in their wellbeing to any reluctant Minbari colonists, and to emphasize yet again that he led his pan-galactic army not in conquest but only to secure a lasting peace. Secretly, however, the main reason he decided to make the trip was that he couldn’t resist the opportunity to pilot a 'fury again. Valen suspected that Marneer already knew him well enough to have figured that out, but no matter. He was sure no one else had a clue. And if they did, well, call it Entil'Zha’s prerogative.

Just which Starfury belonged to the Entil'Zha was unmistakable. In accordance with Warrior Caste traditions, one of B4’s standard 'furies had been ritually decorated with millions of individual spots of turquoise paint. They swirled and curved around the boxy exterior of the ship, giving it an aesthetic twist that would never have passed Earth Force muster. Across the top wing, an enormous rendering of a glowing Triluminary clearly announced the ship as Valen’s own. That made it an obvious target, but Valen thought that any inspiration it gave to the Anla’shok outweighed the disadvantage. Besides, it looked pretty damn cool.

Valen played with the controls again, executing another fancy roll and a couple of quick turns as he tried to assure himself he hadn’t lost his edge. He glanced around; everything seemed to be fine. Again, he smiled. There was another reason Valen felt so contented; one that had nothing to do with flying his flashy Starfury. It was a reason that touched his heart even more profoundly than the mass conversion of those refugees now being dispersed from B4 for basic Ranger training. When he’d turned the convoy over to the forces from Minbar, Valen had been able to send on his letter for Catherine, had learned that wherever the hell Ulkesh was, it wasn’t Minbar. Valen’s conscience wasn’t entirely clear – he still felt a little cowardly about not telling Catherine of Ulkesh’s involvement with Norenn in the first place, but he did feel better about it all. Some things, he thought, truly never change. He’d always found it easier to settle the problems that had confronted him as a pilot, military governor, arbiter or diplomat than to handle his personal life. In his own estimation, he’d improved on all counts since his trial in the StarFire Wheel, and besides, even he was allowed to screw up once in a while. He was, he chuckled to himself, only Human.

“What was that, Entil’Zha?” queried a voice inside his uncomfortably tight helmet. It had been a struggle to squeeze his antlered head into that fishbowl and he was beginning to wonder how he’d ever get back out.
“Nothing, Fury One,” Valen replied; “just clearing my throat. Approaching jumpgate,” he noted; “all ships cut velocity and prepare for the jump to normal space.”
“Affirmative, Entil'Zha.”

Valen smiled again in anticipation. Hyperspace was a peculiar, almost dream-like place with laws all its own, but normal space, real space, with its stars and planets, solar winds and asteroids, was where he enjoyed flying the most. He shifted his shoulders slightly as he punched in the jumpgate code and prepared to hurtle through the gate near Babylon 4.

“Jumpgate sequence initialized,” he informed his squadron nonchalantly. “Gate opening in four, three, two, one …” Suddenly, Valen’s gut lurched into his chest and he found himself in an unexpected struggle against the nightmarish urge to vomit into his helmet. Searing pain stabbed his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding white light that flooded across his field of view. In his thousands of hours of flight time, he’d never experienced anything like it before. An image flashed in front of him, one he associated with the only time he’d ever had a headache that excruciating. It was Sinclair’s haggard face reflecting out of the mirror at the Earth Force barracks in GenevaDome in 2247 after he’d been mind-raped by a telepath. Valen grimaced involuntarily as the acrid taste of bile – hot and caustic – filled his mouth. He saw something else – a sea of attentive Minbari faces watching him through some kind of amethystine filter – and imagined he heard Catherine calling for him by his now-secret name; “Jeff!” in mortal terror. Everything went dark as he heard Kosh’s voice admitting to some kind of grievous error; “unexpected,” the Vorlon intoned with concern, almost apologetically. Alarmed, Valen fought for consciousness and opened his eyes. The enormous blue bulkhead of a Minbari Cruiser filled his entire viewscreen, looming ever larger. Was it another flashback?

“Collision alert! Collision alert!” his on-board computer warned him, and in the split-second it took Valen to recognize that it was addressing him in Warrior Caste Minbari and not English, he realized he wasn’t hallucinating about The Battle of The Line. This was real. He seized the joystick and turned his Starfury away in a desperate maneuver akin to those he’d earlier been amusing himself with, then exhaled harshly as he narrowly cleared the other vessel. Now the air inside his helmet was filled with the confused and concerned voices of his squadron and the echo of his rapid heartbeat. What the hell had just happened to him? It was, of course, the question to which everyone wanted to know the answer. Valen silently cursed the distinctive nature of his Starfury.
“Fury Three to Valen … Entil'Zha – are you all right?”
“Fury One to Entil'Zha …”
“Valen!”
“This is Valen,” he managed, still dazed. “I, I’m all right. I, I must have … blacked out as we passed through the gate,” he acknowledged sheepishly, even as he denied the possibility to himself. He’d been to eight gees plenty of times and never lost it. He’d jumped back and forth between hyperspace and normal space without incident more times than he could count. Hell, he’d experienced flash forwards while in Sector 14 with Garibaldi and never lost his grip on reality like that! There had to be another explanation. “Did anyone else experience anything … unusual as we re-entered normal space?” As he feared, his team responded in the negative. “All right then,” he sighed, “let’s head for the docking bay,” he concluded, hoping his team would resist asking any more embarrassing questions.

Chapter Text

-29-

There is nothing to fear in dreaming except that which we bring ourselves.

Catherine squinted into the glare of the spotlight that surrounded her and crawled to her knees. She lifted up her head and shielded her eyes with an opened hand. Directly above her she could make out the dark, interior surface of the enormous purple dome that spiraled at the center of the Great Hall in Yedor. She looked down and found she was wearing a familiar floor-length black turtleneck undergarment with enormous bell sleeves and over it, the thick charcoal robes of The Grey Council. She still seemed to be healthily pregnant. She wasn’t in Valen’s old house after all, and Kosh was no where to be found. It was as though everything she thought she’d actually endured had been but a nightmare, a bad dream. She frowned in confusion, then shifted her weight to the bottoms of her feet and stood up carefully. The Hall was silent. Everything seemed to be in order, except that she had no recollection of how or why she was there. There was one way to find out.

“Summoned,” she declared firmly, “I come. In Valen’s Name, I take the place that has been prepared for me. I am Grey. I stand between the darkness and the light. We are Grey. We stand between the Candle and the Star. Why have I been called?”

One by one, nine lights surrounded her, revealing nine enigmatic figures, the last of whom held the Triluminary Staff at arm’s length. The Master’s shoulders seemed far, far too slender and sloping to be Valen’s but he or she stood at least as tall. Catherine frowned again, wondering who it could be.

“Will you follow me into Fire?” one of the others asked in an unfamiliar voice, without uncovering his face.
“Yes,” Catherine replied promptly.
“Will you follow me into Darkness?” asked another anonymous voice.
“Yes.”
“Into Storm?” queried a third.
“Yes,” she repeated again.
“Into Death?” queried the figure who held the Triluminary Staff.
“Yes,” Catherine promised unhesitatingly.
“Yes,” the final voice repeated, “perhaps you will at that.” In a motion similar to one Sakai had seen Valen perform, The Master placed the rod against his or her collarbone and reached up with both hands to pull back the hood that concealed their identity.
“Oh my God!” Catherine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as Norenn revealed herself with a flourish. The other woman began to laugh loudly, almost maniacally.

Horrified, Sakai broke from her place in the circle, thinking of nothing but escape. She looked for an opening to run through, but the other Council members moved in to block her way, then pushed her back into the center. Each time she tried to escape, someone grabbed her by the arm and flung her to another menacing figure who manhandled her in turn.

“Let me go!” Catherine cried, first in anger, then in fear as the hands grew rougher and touched her more deliberately. “Stop it! Let me go!” She tried to strike back, throwing a wild punch at the apparition closest to her, but someone else caught her fist. She cursed perfunctorily and attempted to twist free.

Now an anonymous pair of gloved hands tore at her clothes and as she responded with a shocked cry, Catherine was seized from behind by two other Satai, who pulled her arms up and to the sides where she couldn’t use them to defend herself. She kicked at the grey spectre who was gathering up a handful of her robes and holding them in a hard knot between Catherine’s breasts, but someone extremely strong and powerful pressed himself against her back and caught her legs from behind, clamping them in a scissors formed by his tensed calves.

Despite the many layers of clothing between them, Sakai could feel the stranger’s stiff manhood pressed between her buttocks, and for the first time in her life Catherine found herself gripped by sexual terror; a terror that burned hotter as the hooded grey vest was torn from her body. The fabric that had once seemed so soft and comforting when it was wrapped around Valen’s loving form cut bruises into the nape of her neck as it shredded in her assailant’s hands, then fell in heavy, confining folds around her trembling knees and ankles. Against her will, Catherine found herself focused on the rasping sound of harsh breathing of the man behind her. He pushed his veiled face against her cheek, his stony bone crest stabbing into her unprotected flesh, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and across her collarbone, capturing her in a chokehold. As her other captors released their hold on her arms, she immediately lifted her hands and tore at the arm encircling her throat. The Minbari behind her simply tightened his grip, leaving Sakai gasping desperately for air, and laughed lowly. Catherine’s mind filled with the terrible fear of immanent rape. Time seemed to have stopped as she hung there, trapped between the terror of what had happened and crippling dread of what was yet to come. Quietly, almost inaudibly, she began to sob for mercy.

“In Valen’s Name,” she wept, unable to think of any better or more powerful words to utter in her defense. “In Valen’s Name …”

Norenn brushed the figure in front of Catherine aside and gave her a slow once-over, then confronted her forcefully, as the living Norenn never had.

“Yes, In Valen’s Name!” she insisted, leaning forward until their faces were just inches apart. “In Valen’s Name you took the oath; to follow him into Darkness and Death! In Valen’s Name you stood at the head of his Council … and lied to them! In Valen’s Name you sent for me, undid his kind words, called me forth for a reckoning!” Her green eyes seemed to pierce through to Catherine’s very soul, and the latter lost her will to resist; falling limp into the angry arms that restrained her. “I’m dead – dead because of you – because of what you did in Valen’s Name! Why should you not follow me into Death?”
“I, I,” Sakai mumbled, unable to meet Norenn’s gaze any longer. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Norenn mocked angrily; “You’re sorry? What good does that do for me?” To Sakai’s silence, she turned away and pointed to a figure standing apart from the rest, bathed in his own hot spotlight. “What does that do for him?” Norenn strode over and tore the hood from Tadeer’s face. He bowed his head sadly. Catherine’s lips trembled.
“I’m sorry …”
“How many Minbari lives were given for yours, Catherine? How many?”
“Oh!” Sakai emitted involuntarily, as the man behind her grabbed her by the hair and forced her head in another direction. Another silent robed figure. Another hood lifted. Zathras. “And what about this one’s life?”
“We live for The One; we die for The One,” Zathras declared with a proud toss of his head.
“You took that oath as well, didn’t you?” Norenn reminded, returning to face Catherine. “You took it first – before you ever came back here! Why?”
“To, to serve. To help Jeff …” One of the Satai who had been holding her arms threw back her cowl and Catherine’s eyes widened. It was Ambassador Delenn, bone-crested and haughty.
“To serve Jeffrey Sinclair? To serve his holy cause? To serve the helpless billions the Shadows would enslave or kill? To serve as history demands of you and as the Vorlons instruct you, or to serve yourself?” Delenn inquired harshly. “In him, I recognized greatness; compassion beyond measure, self-sacrifice without hesitation, obedience and leadership both. Traits you’ve never understood, things you’ve begged him to abandon. I saw it all in his face as he embraced me …” Delenn tilted her head. “He was mine, you know, after you discarded him – I was there to heal him when you were not, after you left him broken on Mars. He would have remained mine, had you not come back …” The fire returned to Catherine’s eyes and for an instant, she forgot her fears.
“No! It was you who broke him! At The Line …”
“Once, yes,” Delenn conceded; “but how many times did you break him, Catherine Sakai, and why? Because it suited you? Because of your pride, because of your anger, because you had to have things your way? Because you would not yield? And now, how have you repaid his devotion? What have you done with the trust he placed in you? What more will you do before the end? Why are you here? Who are you?”
“I don’t have to answer you!” Catherine cried.
“Perhaps not … but how will you answer to him?”

The sexual terrorist with his arm at her throat spun Catherine around violently, dropped his muscular hands to her upper arms and shook her angrily.

“What have you done in my Name?” he demanded, shaking the hood off his head. Catherine recognized that voice and shrank in horror even before she saw the man’s face. “How could I ever have trusted you?” Valen whispered in his deepest, quietest, most heavily controlled, most infinitely enraged voice. “Who are you?”

Valen threw her to the floor in disgust and Catherine stared back in shamed silence. Before she could speak she felt a flood of water gushing from between her legs and she was seized by a convulsive contraction. Her eyesight began to dim, her head was spinning and woozy and everything faded into darkness.

Chapter Text

-30-

“Valen!” Marneer cried as he raced across the flight deck to where the other man was climbing unsteadily from the cockpit of his Starfury. “I saw what happened – are you all right?” Valen bobbed his helmeted head up and down and lumbered past his aide into the pilots’ locker room. Marneer ran after him, gesturing to the nearest man to follow and assist him in getting Valen out of his bulky space suit; a two- or three- man job.

As Marneer and the technician struggled to get his helmet off, Valen tried to help by twisting his head in what he hoped was an accommodating position, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. His horns caught repeatedly on the sides of the helmet; sending shooting pains deep into his already throbbing head. It was his own fault, Valen thought ruefully; he knew he should have carved his bone crest down before jamming his head into the Earth Force-designed helmet in the first place, but in his exuberance about flying, he’d failed to take the time to do it. He winced as the metal collar of the helmet clipped his brow just above the corner of his eye, then sighed in frustration; was this long series of embarrassments never going to end? Finally, his head was free and the tech hurried to deposit the globe on a nearby bench. Marneer looked at Valen expectantly as the latter rubbed the cut over his eye and sighed again.

“I have no explanation for what happened out there, Marneer. None at all. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear; hell, it’s not the answer I want to give, but it’s the truth.” He held out his arms, palms up, so his aide could unhinge the thick gloves that were attached to the body of the suit.
“Your ship came through the jumpgate at a peculiar attitude and continued on its path directly toward one of our heavy cruisers, Entil'Zha,” Marneer recounted as he busied himself with the task. “For a moment I feared … we all feared … well, it looked as though …” He tried a different tack. “Were you struck by some kind of new Shadow weapon?”
“Right here? This close to the Station? If they’d managed to penetrate our perimeter so deeply, why only attack my Starfury?” Valen said skeptically as the other man now joined Marneer in muscling him out of the body of his space suit. “That seems highly un- … damn!” Valen grunted; reaching out and grabbing onto Marneer’s shoulder as a wave of dizziness overcame him.
“Entil'Zha!” Marneer cried in alarm. “Come on; hurry!” he egged on the man assisting him, “we need to get Valen out of this suit and down to Medlab!” Valen began to protest, then closed his eyes and fought back the peculiar but now familiar sensation sweeping through his body.
“In Valeria’s Name!” the Minbari technician exclaimed, and Marneer drew in his breath sharply. Hearing them, Valen blinked rapidly and opened his eyes to discover that everyone in the locker room -- all of the other pilots who’d flown with him and the men helping them undress -- was now staring at him with frightened expressions. Befuddled, Valen followed Marneer’s gaze down to the chest of his flight suit, where Valen had pinned Catherine’s isil’zha; the isil’zha everyone else naturally assumed was his. The sparkling blue-green stone at the medallion’s center had turned a hazy, dull grey.
“Catherine!” Valen gasped with inconsolable dismay, tearing the badge from his clothes and running his thumb across the cabochon jewel as he brought it closer to his face. He pressed it against his cheek and found it ice cold. “Catherine!” he whispered, abruptly unconcerned with the impact of his emotional display on the Rangers around him. Valen’s legs folded beneath him and he collapsed onto the locker room floor, a crippled pile of flesh and bones.

Chapter Text

-31-

Kosh examined the small humanoid that lay crumpled on the ground in a creeping pool of its own blood. The nozzles and sensors on his encounter suit compiled reams of physical data, which he quickly analyzed with growing puzzlement.

The being referred to as Catherine Sakai was dying, as were the three incomplete entities struggling to escape from her womb. How could that be? The Vorlons had introduced the Minbari to the hallucinogenic mixture the latter called “sha’neyat” centuries ago; it activated the latent gene for telepathy all Minbari carried, allowing for a brief period of easier and more complete communication between Minbari and Vorlon. Its influence also shattered the unfortunate illusion all of the younger races harbored about time being a linear construct; something Kosh had expected would be of great import if he were to understand this particular specimen. Unfortunately, things were not going according to plan. Kosh was at a loss to explain it.

Kosh had learned from Valen's memories that the latter had consumed an equal quantity of the substance and survived; surely it had been reasonable to expect a similar result in the female of his species. Even now Valen remained genetically compatible with this other being, Catherine, as evidenced by the earlier birth of their live offspring. Kosh had watched the two perform their mating rituals often enough to be certain of both the maternity and paternity of the immature creature they had named Delenn. So what had gone wrong? Why was the being Catherine dying? What, if anything, could be done about it?

He knew it was foolish to develop any sentiments about a given individual from any of the short-lived younger races, but over the last four years Kosh had developed a kind of fondness for Valen, and Valen was undeniably attached to Catherine Sakai. Kosh had hoped that after entering Valen’s mind, (it had been so very easy to slip inside while Valen slept, and despite his earlier objections, Valen seemed to have no idea that Kosh was there; he should have done it sooner) he would better understand the primitive bond between the two Humans. To his surprise, he -- a Vorlon! -- had almost been overwhelmed by the raw force of Valen’s feelings for her. Kosh had only the vaguest racial memory of a time when Vorlons had allowed themselves to feel thus, and even then … could they ever have felt so intensely, so deeply, so single-mindedly? How did Valen manage to accomplish anything useful at all while such passions raged beneath his admirably calm exterior? His affections for the child Delenn made some small sense to Kosh since she was Valen’s genetic legacy, but the devotion he expressed for Catherine … what was the point?

Kosh had watched with prurient interest from a corner of Valen’s mind as the two had copulated repetitiously just prior to Valen’s departure from Minbar, and had wondered all the while how a creature so easily entertained could be of as much cosmic significance as the Entil'Zha was. In retrospect, Kosh understood his cynical reaction was defensive. He was embarrassed that he’d come so close to being vicariously carried away by Valen’s emotions. It was ridiculous, really; for as miniscule a period of time as the younger races lived, their emotional connections were even more fleeting. And yet, for an instant, Valen had almost had Kosh convinced his love for Catherine was genuinely eternal.

Kosh reconsidered the dying Human in front of him. For nearly half of his life, Valen had been fixated on this single creature. He’d even denied the primordial instinct for self-preservation to protect her, and it was precisely that dangerous monomania that worried the Vorlons. Having seen Catherine through Valen’s eyes, however, Kosh had been provoked to make his own pointless expression of archaic sentiment. That was why he decided to conduct his own investigation of Sakai. Kosh fully intended to determine whether or not her continued influence on Valen and the Minbari would suit Vorlon needs, and he had no qualms about disposing of her if he determined it was necessary. But until he knew for certain, he’d intended to do Valen a courtesy by sparing the fragile container of Catherine’s soul from undue stress. He had acted out of compassion and ended up with this -- Kosh focused again on Catherine’s convulsing figure – unpleasant result. It only reminded him of what he already knew too well – that any expression of emotion could not only distract one from the task at hand, but also alter one’s course from that which had been pre-ordained.

Kosh wondered if Valen would know how to stabilize Catherine’s condition. He attempted to contact him, but found himself blocked by a wall of overpowering emotion, feelings that were again so strong they baffled the Vorlon. How could the life of any one individual matter so much to a war leader? Sinclair, Kosh had seen, had killed dozens of Minbari pilots during the Earth-Minbari War. He’d fought and shot-down fellow Humans he thought of as “raiders.” He’d been in hand-to-hand combat dozens of times and had never shirked from taking a life when necessary. As Valen, he’d led his army into enormous battles that ended with death tolls in the tens of thousands and yet he’d remained in perfect control. He might claim to dislike killing, but Valen was actually very good at it. He was a soldier, he was Anla’shok Na, he was Entil'Zha, and he knew death was an inevitable force. So why was he so despondent over a single loss? Clearly, Kosh concluded, there was a great deal about the younger races he still did not understand.

Chapter Text

-32-

Valen closed his hand tightly over Catherine’s darkened isil’zha, driving the hard curves of the brooch into his palm. He fought back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly rose to his feet.

“This,” his eyes flickered down at his clenched hand. “This is not mine. It is my wife’s,” he explained solemnly. “It seems that … that I …” As his voice trailed off, Valen pulled himself up taller and threw his shoulders back, and with the change in posture managed to convey a brief but convincing show of self-control. “It seems that I have lost her,” he finally whispered. Valen looked at the small crowd of men surrounding him. “I apologize if my reaction to discovering this sad fact caused any of you concern. I will recover. What matters now is that I can count upon each of you to be my strength in the difficult days ahead,” Valen continued earnestly in the Religious Caste language. “We cannot pause, must not cease in our efforts, no matter how great the personal cost. The Shadows must be defeated – and they will be – by you and I together. This I promise you, for I have already seen it. It is destiny.”

The Rangers all lowered their eyes, finding themselves more discomforted by their leader’s stoic words than by his earlier collapse. None of them had discarded their own sorrows so gracefully. And yet they didn’t doubt the depths of Valen’s grief either. His love for his wife was legendary – scandalously so, given that she was an alien. For many Anla’shok, however, Valen’s refusal to forsake Catherine in the face of public opprobrium actually exalted him further. Moreover, while they could all relate to his initial response to her clouded isil’zha, Valen’s ability to segue with such equanimity from personal anguish to a fervent assertion of one of his core doctrines reconfirmed for each of the onlookers that they were standing in the presence of the greatest Minbari, the most selfless Prophet, who’d ever lived. Within hours, nearly every Anla’shok alive would be talking about this latest instance of Valen’s courage under pressure and his unselfish devotion to the cause. Meanwhile, Marneer, no less awestruck but ever eager to serve his Anla’shok Na, broke the silence.

“Are you certain of her fate, Entil'Zha? Perhaps it is only because you have taken her isil’zha so far away from her,” Marneer offered hopefully. “I’ve never heard of any Rangers exchanging isil’zha before, so maybe …” Valen cast a withering glance at his assistant. “I, I’m sorry, Valen, I only …” In a strange reversal, Valen placed a reassuring hand on Marneer’s shoulder.
“I know you mean well, Marneer, and thank you. But …” he glanced down again. “She’s gone.”

There was another awkward pause before Valen wordlessly motioned for help in getting out of the rest of his space suit. The others, sensing Valen’s need for privacy, turned away.

Valen led Marneer from the room down the long hallway and over to the core shuttle. Inside the car, Valen finally spoke.

“I don’t know how to account for it, Marneer, but I know now what happened to me in my ship. You see, I saw, I felt … something, and now I understand what it was. It was Catherine’s death.” Valen closed his eyes and sighed her name again under his breath. “Oh, Catherine …” he whispered reflexively. Marneer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What could he possibly say?
“Is there anything …?”
“Yes,” Valen replied with sudden intensity. “Yes, there is. I cannot justify diverting resources from the Cause for my own personal agenda, but Marneer … I have to know what happened to Catherine! I have to. I need to know what went wrong … if there was anything I could have done … how … how she … I need to know whether any of our unborn children survived and to make certain that Delenn is safe.”
“It will take some time to get a message through to Minbar, and even longer for a reply …” Valen nodded, then reconsidered the strange visions he’d experienced passing through the jumpgate.
“One more thing – I need to speak to either Kosh or Ulkesh Naranek. They’re connected to this somehow – I can feel it!”

Marneer turned pale. For anyone – even Valen – to speak ill of the Vorlons was almost unimaginable to him. And yet his loyalty to Valen was complete. He’d sworn an oath to Valen – to stand on the bridge and let no one pass. If that included the Vorlons, then so be it. Still, Marneer shivered at the prospect.

“I will see to your requests personally, Entil'Zha.”
“Thank you, Marneer,” Valen said, managing a small, crooked smile as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be fine,” he added bitterly; “I’ve been through this before.” The core shuttle came to a stop and Valen paused in the open doorway. “If you do not mind, Marneer, I’d prefer to return to my quarters alone. I need some time …”
“Of course, Entil'Zha! I will report to you as soon as I have any information at all.” Valen nodded.
“Thank you,” he repeated before walking slowly from the car and into an empty transport tube. “Blue Three,” Valen croaked, his voice suddenly constricted.

Once the doors closed, he sagged against the wall. It had taken all of his energy to leave the Cobra Bay with some semblance of control. He opened his hand again and regarded the darkened isil’zha as he bit back tears. When he’d lost Catherine the first time, back in 2258, he’d been able to hold onto some glimmer of hope. Yes, her ship had been shot up, yes, he’d seen it disappear into the rift, but those facts had said nothing about Catherine’s own condition. Now, however, he had the raw evidence of her death in his hand and that strange series of terrible images in his mind. Those things left no room for hope. The love of his life – of both of his lives – was gone. This time, it seemed, she was gone for good.

Valen entered his quarters in a daze, barely conscious of having walked down the hall or even riding in the transport tube. “Lights, low,” he ordered, then stumbled to the living room couch. He dropped her isil’zha onto the cushions beside him and buried his face in his hands.

After losing Catherine the first time, he’d achieved a kind of peace and a strange sense of freedom by monkishly renouncing absolutely everything he’d had left – his family, his friends, his career, his name, his universe, and any hope for personal happiness. He’d emerged into the twelfth century as Valen, a man with nothing to lose; the Minbari not of Minbari who lived only to serve others. Then, four years later, he’d found her and the equation had changed once more. Now, having learned to feel again, he found himself unable to suppress his confusion, guilt and grief over her ultimate fate. Knowing that there was no one he could share his misery with, that he’d have to bury his feelings all over again, made things even worse. Quietly, Valen wept a flood of tears. He cried them for himself, he cried them for poor, motherless Delenn, but most of all he cried them for Catherine Sakai.

There was one person who had sacrificed more, who had to have been lonelier and even more friendless than himself, and that was Catherine. He at least had the consolation of knowing he would defeat the Shadows and be praised for doing so for at least the next thousand years. But Catherine … what had been her reward? The choice to stay in the past was one he should never have allowed her to make. And why had he let her? If he’d really, truly loved her, if he hadn’t been so incredibly selfish … He’d failed her again, just like he had the last time, in Sector 14. He might as well have put his hands around her neck and choked the life out of her directly. However she had actually died, it was his own damn fault!

Valen ran a hand across his bald scalp and burst up off the couch with a sudden and intense self-loathing. He glanced around the living room, searching for something handy to take his fury out on. There wasn’t much to choose from, so he began with himself, pounding a fist into the open palm of his other hand, tearing open the front of his flight suit and kicking over the coffee table with an angry cry. In his blind rage and disgust as he stormed around the room, he thought of others to blame. Hadn’t he entrusted Catherine’s safety to Mayan and Tadeer and the accursed Nine? Where the hell had they been? He slammed his shoulder and head against the bulkhead, then whirled around and ripped the viewscreen from its niche beside him. It crashed to the floor, disintegrating into millions of tiny round glass beads that bounced wildly around the room and glinted in the half-light. Kosh! Jesus Christ, what about Kosh? Valen beat the walls with his fists until his hands began to swell and his rage finally subsided.

Wheezing, his face smeared with tears, salt and mucus, Valen eyed his bruised hands and the destruction around him with keen embarrassment. What had gotten into him? What kind of way to deal with sorrow was this? He shook his head and wiped his face off on the back of his sleeve before sadly picking his way across the littered floor. On the desk he spied the lock of Catherine’s hair and the sight drove him to tears again. He reached over and plucked it up with a trembling hand. Poor, poor Catherine; to have her life cut so tragically short, and the triplets, probably dead too, dead before they’d even had the chance to be born. How had it happened? How and where and why? Valen blotted his scratchy, bloodshot eyes and sank down onto the couch, stroking the black tendrils as a dull ache pounded in his chest. He couldn’t recall ever feeling as angry – over anything – as he had just moments before. Now, a profound numbness spread across his body, and he began to imagine that he would never feel anything ever again. There was nothing left in him.

Valen dropped back lengthwise across the couch and released the token onto his chest, watching it apathetically as it rose and fell with the uneven rhythm of his breathing for what seemed like hours. He sensed a lump beneath him and reflexively reached behind his back for the discarded isil’zha. He found it and curled his stiff fingers around it. I feel nothing now, he thought. I can look at her Ranger badge and it won’t bother me at all. Not any more.

It wasn’t until he opened his hand and saw the faint, green pulse quivering deep inside the isil’zha stone at the pin’s center that Valen realized how badly he’d misjudged himself.

Chapter Text

-33-

Catherine Sakai stirred restlessly; fighting against the light that pierced her tightly closed eyelids and forced her toward consciousness. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and squinted into the bright, golden glow that enveloped her from all sides.

“Where?” she began, as she searched in vain for an identifiable landmark. “Where am I? What happened? Am I dead,” she wondered aloud, seeing nothing but the light; “or is this another hallucination – another dream?”
“’To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub,’” she heard a heavily-accented voice reply with deliberate melodrama. She blinked, then squinted harder. “’For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?’” A shadow fell across her and Catherine looked up. The living room of Valen’s old house came back into focus, but that wasn’t what garnered her attention.
“Marcus?” she cried in astonishment. “Marcus Cole?”
“William Shakespeare actually,” Marcus teased. “A little play called Hamlet? You may have heard of it?”
“How did you …? What … what are you doing here?” She accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her to her feet, then threw her arms around the Ranger’s tall, thin frame in delight.
“Well, I fancy I could ask the same of you – last time I saw you was in Sector 14, before we lost you in the time rift. Sinclair was really broken up by that, you know.” Catherine released Marcus and stepped back to study him more carefully as he prattled on. “About losing you, I mean. A piece of a Shadow ship ricocheted back at him, tore through his ship, left him with quite a nasty scar, right about here …” Same voice, same unruly black hair and leonine beard, Sakai observed; same uniform and body language, has the facts right … it seemed to really be him. But how?
“Yes, I know – I’ve seen it,” she interrupted.
“So Valen’s face is marred too? Imagine such a prominent detail not making it into the legends! At any rate, he blamed himself for losing you and wouldn’t let the doctors remove the scar, much to Satai Rathenn’s dismay, I might add. Has he ever forgiven himself?” Sakai raised her brows in surprise, wondering why she’d never asked the question herself.
“I, I don’t know …”
“Now, there’s a fashion I daresay the Minbari haven’t seen before!” Marcus exclaimed with a smile, indicating Catherine’s bare legs beneath her short tunic.
“Oh, that,” Catherine laughed. She glanced down, then clutched her concave belly with alarm. “Oh my God! The babies! What happened? Marcus – I was pregnant – with triplets …” The illusion of normalcy vanished as she remembered where she had been and what had been happening to her. “Where are they? What’s going on?” She grabbed hold of Marcus’ vest frantically and pulled him towards her.
“Relax, Catherine. They’re all right,” Cole tried to assure her. “They’re fine – I swear it.” He smiled disarmingly. “Not many women can say a Vorlon served as obstetrician you know … you, maybe the Virgin Mary …” Sakai shook her head, refusing to be placated.
“No, something’s not right! Where are they? Let me see them!”
“I wish I could, truly, but it’s not in my power. But they’ll be all right. They’re a bit premature, but they’ll make it.” Sakai’s eyes narrowed as she frowned at her old comrade.
“Who are you, really? Why are you here? What am I doing here?” Catherine demanded fiercely.
“Good questions all,” Cole replied seriously. “They’re the very questions the Vorlons want you to answer, in fact. I’m here to try to help you do that – to move things along. Kosh can’t keep you suspended forever, you know.”
“Suspended? You mean between life and death, don’t you?” Marcus nodded and Sakai closed her eyes and cast her mind back. “I am, I was, dying, wasn’t I? I seem to remember that. I went into labor and then … Kosh gave me sha’neyat to drink, didn’t he, Marcus? Why? Didn’t he know it would kill me?”
“Actually,” Marcus said, twisting his lips; “no. Seems the information he got from the Entil’Zha wasn’t as complete as it could have been. Kosh intended for you to fall into a kind of telepathic trance, but he never expected to …”
“What do you mean his information was from Valen? My God, Marcus; you can’t expect me to believe that Valen would have …”
“No, no, of course not. But that’s part of the problem, you see. As far as the Vorlons are concerned, Valen is … disruptively secretive. He keeps shutting Kosh out – refuses to share his thoughts … but then I imagine you’d know about that better than anyone, wouldn’t you? At any rate, Kosh assumed that since Sinclair had consumed sha’neyat when he was named Entil'Zha, you could handle it too. He didn’t take Twenty-Third Century medicine – or your pregnancy – into accurate account. He’s doing his best to sustain you, but the real problem is his uncertainty.”
“Uncertainty about what?”
“About whether he should let you live in the first place. He isn’t concerned about your children,” Marcus added hurriedly, seeing her expression; “children can be molded whatever way is necessary. They’re immaterial, really. But you … you’re something else entirely, aren’t you?” Catherine folded her arms across her chest as she warily backed away.
“You seem to know an awful lot about what Kosh is thinking, about the Vorlon point of view … just what is going on here, Marcus – really? What are you doing here – if you’re really here at all?”
“Well, there are any number of possible explanations, and when on Minbar, do as the Minbari … so here are three for you to mull over. One: you could simply be hallucinating. As you say, you drank a vial of poison; you were dying. So perhaps you’re just imagining a friendly image for company in your final moments. Two: perhaps I’m Kosh, appearing to you in the guise of someone he hopes you’ll open up to, talk to, reveal yourself to. You know he’s been studying you, your relationship with Valen, your actions since he left.” Catherine nodded slowly. “You don’t, I’m sure, tell Valen everything, and I’d like to think – or perhaps Kosh would – that there are things you’d discuss with an old friend you might not want your husband to know.”
“You – and Kosh – would be wrong,” Catherine assured him defiantly. “So what’s explanation number three?”
“The Vorlons are, at least as we younger races understand it, time travelers. And they have on occasion taken people and preserved them in suspended animation until they had use for them … I believe Valen and Kosh offered you that option when they first located you. And I’m sure that while living on Minbar you’ve heard about the Soul Hunters; about how they can capture the essence of a person at or about the moment of death and preserve it indefinitely? As for me, well, by the end of 2261, I’m pretty much out of the timeline – no one would notice if I – or my soul -- were gone. So take your pick, Catherine. Any or all of these options suit you?”
“What do you mean you’re ‘out of the timeline in 2261’?” Sakai asked, intrigued by that tidbit of information she neither knew nor would have imagined. Marcus’ expression darkened and he took a long breath before continuing.
“I came to a bad end, Catherine. A very bad end. I didn’t recognize it at first, but …” He stared directly into her eyes as he continued. “But it’s what makes me such a perfect Inquisitor for you, Anla’shok Sakai. The perfect Inquisitor indeed.”

Chapter Text

-34-

Valen knelt on the floor amidst the bits of glass and other debris that littered his quarters, with Catherine’s isil’zha clasped between his palms as he tried to pray. It wasn’t, he realized slowly, the burning sensation from the scar on his cheek, nor the prickly glass shards beneath his knees that hindered his efforts, but his uncertainty about the destination of his entreaties. Was he praying to God; to Jesus Christ, to spare his wife’s life, or was he praying to Sakai herself; trying to beseech her across the light years to have strength, to hang on, to conquer whatever ailment, injury or crisis of spirit had darkened her isil’zha? The deep and confused sense of guilt he felt about the whole situation only complicated matters further.

Despite Catherine’s assurances that she understood and accepted that his obligations as Entil'Zha had to come before his responsibilities and desires as a husband and father, Valen was tormented by the decision he’d had to make – to return to Babylon 4, step up the pressure on the Shadows and end the War – and how it took him from Catherine and Delenn when they needed him most. He could hardly believe that he’d abandoned Sakai in her third trimester – it seemed so callous. Then too, the foolish choices he’d made in the past haunted him. How many times had Catherine accused him of being overly-devoted to his Earth Force career to the exclusion of his personal life and how many times had they broken up over that issue? And for how many years had that assessment been correct? How often had he been the one to leave her, accusing her of being irresponsible and self-centered? How much happiness had he thrown away? How many days and nights and months and years in which they could have been together sharing life, had they foolishly wasted? It was perfect irony that fate dictated that now, when his most heartfelt desire was to be at Catherine’s side, he was light years away.

It was a different kind of shame he felt about having let his Rangers see him so badly shaken by a personal loss. They had each given up so much themselves. He should have held back his grief and surprise; should have been a steady rock on which they could depend. Valen also regretted surrendering to his anger and trashing his quarters, especially since there wasn’t an item aboard the Station they could really afford to waste. A final regret lingered; he was ashamed of his own audacity in petitioning God for the life of the woman he loved when so many hundreds of thousands of other lives – and deaths – rested upon his actions as Entil'Zha. Did he honestly believe in the kind of God who would grant such a self-serving intercessory prayer? Where would that leave those lonely souls who had no one left to pray for them? Had he become so full of himself as to imagine he deserved special favors from God?

Valen sighed and shook his head. This wasn’t the time to practice casuistry, nor to crucify himself for past mistakes. He sat back and crossed his legs in front of him, then snuck another fearful peek at Catherine’s Ranger pin. The green spark of life was dim, but it was still there. He closed his hand back over it and drew it to his heart, picturing her face. He thought again of the strange images he’d seen while in his Starfury – the crowd of faces seen through a purple filter, the sound of Catherine’s scream, Kosh’s voice. Somehow, he’d been in contact with Sakai’s mind – he was sure of it. And yet neither of them had ever demonstrated any telepathic ability before. Hell, even a P12 couldn’t transmit thoughts across the galaxy! It made no sense, absolutely no sense at all, unless …

Valen closed his eyes and tried to relax in the darkness. He concentrated carefully on the rhythm of his breathing, clearing his mind of conscious thought. He’d fallen out of the practice of daily prayer, but on Minbar, meditation was an art form and Valen a respected Old Master. Within a few minutes, he’d achieved the rarified state of not-being. Everything was silent, still. His mind was blank. There was nothing there except … a golden light? A presence, a thought that wasn’t his own?

“Kosh!” Valen recognized the Vorlon with astonishment. He hadn’t really expected his hunch about Kosh’s presence to be confirmed.
“Yes.”
“What, how … how long have you been in my mind? How did you get here? That dream!” Valen burst out, answering his own questions. “The dream I had on Minbar about my father – that was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it, Kosh! I gave you my answer and it was no! How could you? How dare you violate me like this?”
“You have not been harmed.”
“It’s not a question of harm, damn it; you simply had no right to invade my thoughts like that! And Catherine -- you’re with her, aren’t you? Reading her mind? That’s how I saw, how I heard her scream – I heard her through you! She’s dying, Kosh – I know it – I have her isil’zha. What happened to her? Was it something you did?”
“It was not intended. Most unfortunate. We are … studying her.”
“Studying her?” Valen asked incredulously; “you’re killing her! Kosh, I entrusted her safety to you! I thought we had an understanding, that we were partners in this War!”
“Yes. Her destiny may have been fulfilled. We must be certain.”
“ “What gives you the right to … no, the hell with that,” Valen demanded furiously, “I want to know what you’ve done to Catherine, and I want to know now!”

In a flash, Valen saw it all; saw it from Kosh’s unblinking and unsparing perspective. The conversation between Kosh and Ulkesh, Catherine’s confrontation with Kosh in their old house, the vial of sha’neyat, Catherine’s abrupt fall into unconsciousness and the violent convulsions that followed. “No!” Valen thought in horror, trying to pull away, but there was more, so much more. He found himself watching Catherine’s cold, still body while the three fetuses inside of her began their unaided struggle to be born. Finally, Kosh moved into action, enveloping Catherine with his ambient glow and reaching down with golden hands to revive her enough to deliver the babies. It was a moment Valen had hoped to see himself, but not from afar, not with Catherine dying and unaware, not with the children so early and small and fragile, and certainly not through Kosh’s eyes. They were sons, he saw, three bald and perfectly Minbari sons, each well-formed enough to quiver and cry as air struck their lungs, but this revelation brought Valen strangely little joy. It wasn’t supposed to be like that at all …

Reflexively, Valen thought back to Delenn’s birth, when he’d stood behind Catherine, supporting her in his arms as Satai Tadoor ministered to her. Then, Catherine had been so alive -- alive and gorgeous -- Valen thought, as the sweat poured down her naked body and she groaned and panted with each contraction. He remembered brushing the damp hair away from her hot face; remembered how their eyes had met and she’d smiled that beatific, exhausted smile and squeezed his hand. He saw in her eyes that she was thinking just what he was – that of all the strange and incredible things they’d been through together, the birth of their daughter was the most purely miraculous of all. Later that afternoon, when he lay with his arms around both dark-haired, sleeping females, he thought about …

Valen registered a sudden wave of curiosity and abruptly ended his reveries, shutting Kosh out.

“Yes. This was unintended.” Kosh remarked knowingly.
“No, no you don’t understand at all!” Valen responded angrily. “You’re thinking I wasn’t supposed to know what you’ve done to Catherine, but that’s not what I'm thinking at all! You think you understand us younger races, but the fact is you haven’t got a clue!”
“Yes,” Kosh agreed triumphantly, “and we seek understanding.” Valen frowned, trying to squelch his anger. It was important that he stayed focused, that he didn’t cut short this chance to argue for Catherine’s life.
“Don’t let her die, Kosh; I’m begging you. You’ve had my cooperation throughout this War and you’ll continue to get it. All I’m asking for in return is Catherine’s life. Please Kosh, please.”
“We shall see … what we shall see.”

Valen recoiled as though a pair of strong hands had grabbed him by the shoulders and were shaking him violently.

“Entil'Zha! Entil'Zha Valen!” Valen blinked rapidly and found he was nose to nose with Shai Alyt Derann. “What happened here? Are you all right, Entil'Zha?” Derann asked urgently, pulling Valen to his feet.
“I, I …” Valen blinked again, shaking his head and trying to regain his composure. “I am fine, Derann,” he said, pulling away from the Warrior’s anxious grip.
“We tried to contact you on the com system, and when we received no response, I became alarmed and overrode the doors …” Derann lowered his eyes as though it were his behavior that deserved questioning. Clearly, Valen thought, my little speech put the fear of God – or of me, anyway – into him.
“It’s all right, Shai Alyt. You acted appropriately given the circumstances.”

Would that I could say the same about myself, Valen mused ruefully, regarding the gaping hole in the wall where the communications panel had once been mounted. With the room lights turned up all the way, he got his first clear look at the damage he’d done. It looked like a small bomb had gone off inside the room. Next, Valen considered his own unkempt appearance. He was naked from the waist up, having torn himself half out of his flight suit during his earlier tirade. One sleeve still covered his arm but was entirely detached from the rest of the suit, the zipper hung separately in a forlorn ribbon and small bits of glass and wiring were adhered to the knees and lower legs of the thick blue-grey fabric. His face was stiff with dried salt from his tears and his hands and arms were streaked with crusty blood. I must look like a complete and total madman, Valen realized with mortification. And in front of this man, no less! Before he could begin an explanation, Derann spoke.

“I heard, Entil'Zha, of the death of your wife. I wished to offer condolences on behalf of my Clan and myself.”
“Thank you,” Valen murmured, shamefaced, as he tried to come up with a way out of his current situation. As usual, things worked themselves out for him.
“The Religious Caste may try to claim you as their own, Valen,” Derann said as his eyes swept quickly around the room and a small, knowing smile crept to his lips. “They depict you as some sort of bland and gentle saint who wants nothing for himself, but I see that privately you feel – and deal with your grief -- as we do.” Valen raised his brows and nodded sheepishly, but Derann didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, I think I understand you far better now, Chosen One.” Valen hung his head. “As one warrior to another in this hour of grief; is there anything I can do for you, Entil'Zha?” Valen nodded slowly.
“Yes. Please instruct Marneer to disregard my earlier instructions. I wish instead to send an emergency message in my name to Minbar instructing The Grey Council to report to my old house – where Zathras is buried -- as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha. Is there anything else?” Valen nodded again.
“I would prefer it if we kept … this …” he gestured at the debris; “between ourselves.” Derann narrowed his eyes and smiled in apprehension, pleased to be back in his master’s good graces.
“Yes, of course, Entil'Zha. Please excuse me while I fetch a broom …”

Valen rolled his eyes at Derann’s retreating figure and decided a quick shower was in order; in order because he could hardly allow anyone else to see him torn and stained and quick because he found himself looking forward to watching the haughty warrior leader perform the menial task of sweeping his quarters. The mischievous thought soon faded from his mind as he opened his hand to check on Catherine’s isil’zha. Faint, but green. Valen sighed and headed for the bathroom.

Chapter Text

-36-

Catherine regarded Marcus with wide eyes, then laughed nervously.

“You? ‘A bad end?’ Jeff felt you showed such promise, right from the start, and he’s a damn good judge of character. So how could you, of all people, ‘come to a bad end,’ Marcus? I don’t believe it.”
“That’s just it, Catherine,” he explained solemnly; “it’s in how I started … They all warned me at one point or another – Sinclair, Sech Turval, Delenn – but I never really listened.” Marcus paused pointedly. “Remember Sech Durhan’s first lesson on the denn’bok? How he taught us that before an action takes place, it must be formed in the mind; just like a child in the womb before being born …” Both of them glanced down at Sakai’s ominously empty belly. “The Vorlons need to know what your actions will be, and to do that, they need to know how you began.”
“I don’t understand …”
“Did the Entil'Zha ever tell you how I came to join the Anla’shok?”
“Jeff said your brother was a Ranger, and that he was killed by the Shadows,”
Catherine answered slowly, still puzzling over his remarks. “You signed on to carry out his legacy, to finish what he started, didn’t you?” Marcus redirected his gaze away from her.
“That’s what I promised William as he lay dying in my arms,” he began flatly; “and that’s what I told Sinclair. Even told it to myself. Pretended to believe it for a long time. It wasn’t until I was dying myself, listening to the woman for whom I’d given my life begging me not to burden her with the awful guilt of feeling both powerless and responsible … the guilt of the survivor … It wasn’t until it was too late that I understood what I terrible lie I’d told us all.” He turned back to Sakai. “You see, if your motives are impure, if you don’t really understand who you are, where you’re coming from and where you’re going, your work becomes corrupted. From the moment William died, I seized hold of the responsibility I felt about his death, clutched that guilt to my heart as tightly as I could and refused to let it go. From then on, I was on a permanent suicide mission, not really living; just looking for a noble death.” This time it was he who grabbed Sakai by the arms and shook her. “We took the oath together, Catherine; stood before Sinclair together and swore to live and die for The One, but in the end, I betrayed the Anla’shok, Catherine! I disobeyed a direct order and left the fleet behind at the height of battle! I lived my guilt and died to assuage it, and it had nothing to do with the Cause or The One! I failed, Catherine, I failed. And I can’t rest – the Vorlons won’t let me rest -- until I know for certain you won’t do the same!” Insulted, Catherine snorted and pulled away.
“What are you suggesting – that because you betrayed your oath, I will too?”
“Why not? Do you think you’re you somehow better than I am?”
“No, of course not – that’s ridiculous, Marcus – give us both a break! Maybe you did make an awful mistake – I don’t know, I wasn’t there – but even if you did, it has nothing to do with you joining the Anla’shok! We all have reasons for doing things – name me one person, Marcus, just one, who didn’t have an ulterior motive signing on as a Ranger!”
“Sinclair.”
“What?”
“Jeffrey David Sinclair.” Catherine laughed scoffingly.
“You sound like a Minbari, Marcus!” Off his unapologetic shrug, she continued. “Look, I know Jeff, I love Jeff, and he’s got his faults just like the rest of us. He’s stubborn. He has a temper. He worries too much. He’s excessively self-effacing and like you, judges himself too harshly. He doesn’t know how to say ‘no’ to our daughter. He talks in his sleep and hogs the covers. Shall I go on?”
“So you’re saying you could do just as good a job in his place?”
“Hell, no! In fact, I tried to keep him from putting me in charge of The Grey Council while he was at the front, but he had his mind made up. What I’m talking about is this crazy idea you have that Jeff never had any kind of selfish motivation …”
“It’s not crazy, Catherine,” Marcus said insistently. Think about it – when it came to accepting the role of Anla’shok Na, to transforming himself into Valen, to doing those things that mattered most, his only motive was – is – to stop the Shadows and assure the future. He recognized that the cause was just and the need was there, so he answered the call, plain and simple. Not for revenge, not for advancement or fame, or glory, not because he hated the enemy or loved killing or wanted to impress you. He simply did it. But you – why did you take the oath, Catherine?”
“To help Jeff,” she replied unhesitatingly. “Like you said – it’s a just cause and he’d already decided to make it his. I decided to make it my cause too. Is that so wrong – to want to share his life and goals? So many times before, Marcus, we’d let stupid, petty things keep us apart. I refused to let that happen again …”
“He didn’t want you to do it though.”
“No, he wanted to protect me. It was an impulse. He knew I was right.”
“So you wanted to prove yourself to him.”
“No, not really, I …”
“That was your real motivation – to stand up to him and prove him wrong.”
“No, you don’t understand …”
“Yes, yes I think I do – all too well! It’s never been about the Shadow threat or the War or the Rangers for you, has it? It’s been about making a point with Sinclair, getting him to make a concession to you.”
“No!” Catherine insisted, frowning in confusion. What was Marcus trying to do to her? Why was he twisting her words and mixing up her thoughts?
“Over and over, that’s been the constant in your relationship since the day you met. Then, you were determined to prove to him that you were as tough as he was and could pilot a ship just as well. Then you wanted to convince him you belonged together, and after that, that you didn’t. And there was more; he was wrong for staying in Earth Force, he was wrong for dating Carolyn Sykes, he wasn’t really over you. You insisted on joining the Rangers because he objected to it, and you insisted on staying with him in the past when he begged you not to. That’s the real reason you’re here now, the motive that’s driven you all along! Obstinacy and opposition; nothing more.”
“No!”
“Yes – don’t you remember?”
“I, I …”

Catherine dawdled for a moment in front of the locker room mirror, admiring her reflection. Two years of studying and testing and drills had finally paid off – she was about to take her first lesson in space flight. True, there had been moments when she’d questioned why she was at the Academy in the first place, and more than a few occasions upon which friends and family had asked her the same. “You’re such a free spirit, Catherine; I can’t imagine you fitting into the military,” they’d said. “There’s no money in an Earth Force career; you should strike out on your own, put that degree in xenogeology to better use.” Maybe so, but just then, wearing her brand-new, blue-grey flight suit, Catherine Sakai was looking fine and feeling pretty proud of herself.

She caught a glimpse of someone entering the room behind her; a square-shouldered, dark-haired man who filled out his own flight suit so perfectly it was as if he’d been poured into it. She pretended to fuss with her hair as she checked the pilot out. He was consulting something on a notepad computer, a helmet balanced with perfect carelessness in the crook of his arm. He had classically masculine features – a long, strong nose, deep-set, piercing brown eyes, lips that were neither too plump nor too thin, and ears as ideally shaped as those on a Roman plaster cast. There was a distinct presence about him; even as he just stood there, reading and looking faintly puzzled, he still projected a sense of dignified self-assurance. It was the poise of a man who knew who he was and where he was going. His was a face and a body to remember, yet Sakai couldn’t recall seeing him on campus before. Still, he looked young enough to be a fellow cadet – a senior perhaps? Sakai was so transfixed by the pilot’s appearance that she twitched visibly when the stranger abruptly turned and addressed her by name.

“Cadet Sakai? Are you Cadet Sakai?” Turning, she gulped a reply. He was even better looking face-to-face. And that voice … it was like butter melting slowly over a low, blue flame.
“Uh, yes, yes, I’m Catherine Sakai.”
“Lieutenant Jeffrey Sinclair, flight instructor,” he stated by way of introduction. “We were expecting you on the flight deck three minutes ago! What are you still doing here in the locker room?” Catherine cringed in embarrassment. “Get your gear together and get out there!”
“Y… yes sir!” She grabbed her helmet from the top shelf in her locker and hurried out the door, barely hearing his directions to her as he followed her to the waiting ship where they were assisted into space suits. Sakai caught him looking her way a couple of times, but whether he was sizing her up as a student or a woman, she couldn’t say. As they strapped themselves into their seats inside the ship, she found she was staring at him again; upon realizing it, she looked away hurriedly and hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“Sinclair to Command and Control. This is Shuttle Two, ready for departure.”
“Shuttle Two, you’re cleared for departure.” Sakai looked at him expectantly. Sinclair folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in his seat and returned her gaze questioningly.
“You have trained on the simulator, correct, Cadet?”
“Yes sir …”
“And were expecting to fly today, were you not?”
“Yes, yes sir, I just thought that …”
“How do you expect to fly without taking off, Cadet?”

Sakai narrowed her eyes and bit down on her tongue, turning quickly to the controls as she tried to stifle her response to his sarcasm. How could someone so good-looking be such an asshole? It just wasn’t fair. She ran through a systems check before grabbing at the joystick and guiding them to a competent, if somewhat cautious take-off. It was all routine to her, for as Sinclair had noted, she’d performed the maneuver hundreds of times before in simulation. But this time, she had actually done it – they were in space! She lifted her eyes to the window above her data screen and smiled in excitement, then glanced over at Sinclair and caught a peek of her instructor’s own sweetly dimpled smile. And then .. then she was fighting back nausea and straining to remain conscious as their ship abruptly shot up and turned over in a backwards loop. She could feel her vision dimming as the sound of rushing blood filled her ears. She gasped watching the star field spinning around and around as they rolled both forward and counterclockwise through space. Struggling against the gee forces, she turned to see Sinclair casually playing with the second set of controls in front of him as he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Desperately, she reached out and wrenched back control of the vessel. As their course leveled out, she turned to the man beside her in a furious rage.

“What the hell did you do that for?” she barked. “Are you crazy?”
“You’re treading dangerously close to insubordination with those remarks, Cadet,” Sinclair retorted evenly. Maddeningly evenly, Catherine thought, given that her stomach was still churning and her pulse racing.
“It was that show-off maneuver of yours that was dangerous … sir!” Sinclair laughed lightly before leaning forward until their helmets almost touched, and when he spoke, his voice was low and fairly menacing.
“You weren’t ready, Cadet. Not only that, you passed out!”
“I did not, sir!” she answered, keenly aware that she almost had.
“There are an endless number of surprises waiting for you out here in space, Cadet. Any one of them can kill you, can throw you off course, can take out your squadron. You can’t predict them all, you can’t eliminate them all, so you have to be ready – at any instant – to handle anything, and I mean anything, the moment you set foot in the cockpit of your vessel, be it a transport, a Starfury or an Explorer Class ship six miles long! You have to train – hard – over and over and over again, before you ever hit space, to prepare yourself for any contingency. You may have passed your written exams, you may well have put in the requisite number of hours on the flight simulator, Cadet, but the fact remains, you weren’t ready.”
“Permission to speak plainly, sir?” Sinclair gestured his consent with a gloved hand. “I don’t think this had anything to do with my readiness at all. I think you’re one of those arrogant fly-boys who gets off on his own sense of power, who …“
“That’s enough, Cadet!” he growled. “Frankly, your opinion doesn’t matter. Mine does. And in my opinion, you don’t have what it takes to be an Earth Force pilot!
“Well, you’re wrong!” Sakai argued back, trembling with anger. “I’ve worked hard to get to this point. I earned the right to be here and I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone else stand in my way!” To her surprise, Sinclair was smiling wryly at her.
“Then maybe there’s half a chance for you after all,” he said, and despite her indignation, Catherine couldn’t stop herself from noticing once again what an incredible voice he had …

Chapter Text

-37-

An adult Minbari man’s grim face suddenly filled Catherine’s field of view. His deep-set, brown eyes, shadowed by thick diagonal ridges that ran from the bridge of his nose to his bald pate, were fixed firmly upon her own. She examined the face more carefully. The man had high, prominent cheekbones, a square chin and angular jaw line, and his lips seemed to be forming her name. Catherine shivered slightly as she realized the stranger was touching her, softly running his knuckles along the edge of her face. Confusingly, she recognized the sound of his soothing resonant voice. It was unmistakable – and impossible! Her vision provided one set of data while her ears assured her of something entirely different. She concentrated on the Minbari’s eyes again and tried to look beyond them, into his soul. Her ears were right. Under that grey crown of lined and furrowed bone stood her fiancé, Jeffrey Sinclair. But how? From that point on, it all became a blur – snippets of his monologue, recollections of his tortured face.
“I’m so sorry, Catherine, I’m so sorry,” he’d said. “God, I’ve missed you … all this time I’ve been going out of my mind, praying I’d find you, and now, now that you’re here … I can’t possibly ask you to stay with me, Catherine, it would never work. No, Kosh will take you back to Vorlon … revive you at the right point. Come …”
“That is just so like you,” Catherine remembered herself spitting angrily. “You’re always trying to make decisions for me, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter where we are or what the issue is, you’re always …”
“You have no idea what you’re trying to talk us into, Catherine.” No, she realized belatedly, no, she really hadn’t. On that, he couldn’t have been more correct. “Please. Listen to me – you can’t stay.”
“I’m staying. I’m staying.”
“Catherine …” he begged, shaking his head from side to side.

“That’s not what it was about,” Catherine cried; “you’ve taken it all out of context!”
“You reached the same conclusion yourself – you were thinking about it just earlier today,” Marcus reminded.

Catherine’s own thoughts seemed to ring audibly around them:

“What had she done? Jeff had warned her, even begged her not to stay, but she’d refused to listen to him. Now she wondered if she’d done it out of pure stubbornness, just to prove him wrong …”

“I was scared, feeling sorry for myself. That’s not why I really chose to stay. Yes, we’ve argued a lot over the years, but that doesn’t mean we don’t respect one another, that doesn’t mean I’m motivated by one-up-manship all the time! I’m here because I wanted to help Jeff the best I can, and I couldn’t do that if we were a thousand years apart.”
“And why not?” Marcus asked casually, as if his was an obvious objection. “The final Shadow War takes place in the 2260s. The Rangers will need dedicated recruits. If you want to help Valen in his cause, why not then instead of now?” Sakai shook her head and regarded Marcus with pity.
“Haven’t you ever been in love, Marcus? Real love, true love, the kind you can’t deny no matter how inconvenient it is, the kind where you start to lose track of where you end and the other person begins, the kind that keeps you laying awake at night, enthralled by the sound of them breathing beside you? The kind of love that pushes you to do things you never would have thought you could do, the kind of love you’d die for …”
“Yes!” Marcus said vehemently. “Bloody hell, yes! And that’s exactly what led me astray! I couldn’t imagine that what I wanted, with all my strength, with my body and soul, wasn’t what Susan wanted – that what I wanted for her wasn’t what she needed!” Catherine shrank back from the desperation she saw in his eyes. “Catherine, if that’s really why you’re here, if there’s even the slightest chance you’ll end up making the same kind of mistake I made … I swear to God, Catherine, I swear In Valen’s Name, I’ll kill you right there where you stand!”

Chapter Text

-38-

“This is dangerous, Entil'Zha, and I see no reason why you should imperil yourself! There are a thousand men aboard this station ready to do your bidding …” Derann was arguing as he raced down the corridor after Valen.
“Ten thousand men!” Marneer chimed in. “Derann is right – there is no need for you to do this yourself. Please Entil'Zha – allow me …”
“Enough!” Valen snapped sharply, turning around in his tracks to face the two men. “I appreciate your concern, and thank you for your well-intentioned offers of assistance,” he continued, his voice milder as he forced a small smile to his face; “but there are some things which I alone must do.” As he spoke he wrestled on the left glove of his space suit.
“But the Station’s core is dangerous -- you yourself forbade anyone from entering there …” Marneer objected. Valen laughed at his persistence.
“I have not forgotten, Marneer.” He faced the other Ranger. “Derann, I need you to keep anyone from following me inside. Anyone at all. And you, Marneer, I need you to monitor all communications from homeworld and notify me the moment we receive a reply to my message.”
“But Entil'Zha, I do not understand …”
“No, I expect you don’t. But in good time, you will.” The other two Minbari bowed their heads in submission. “Marneer,” Valen continued, looking down as he slowly opened his right hand and brought Catherine’s Isil’zha into view; “there is something else … guard this for me until I see you next.” All three of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the stone’s color shift from green to grey and back again. Marneer and Derann were puzzled but knew better than to ask.
“Yes, Entil'Zha. With my life,” Marneer swore as Valen reluctantly passed him the medallion. Valen nodded to him, put on his other glove, and pulled his helmet on over his head. As he rotated it into place, listening for the snap that indicated it was secure, he thought with dread about the moment when he’d have to get it off again.

Three times, while Derann was clearing away the debris in the other room, Valen had picked up a laser blade and held it to the side of his head, intending to cut back his bone crest. Then he'd think of Catherine, set down the tool and lifted up her Isil’zha, praying over it with his heart in his throat. Would she live? Would she die? What about their three, nameless sons? He remembered Kosh’s voice, taunting him about the unresolved nature of her fate, and abruptly came to a weighty conclusion. He wouldn’t again let himself beg Kosh to save Catherine’s life. Kosh might choose to play-act the role of avenging angel, but Valen knew in his heart he had to turn Catherine’s fate over to God. He couldn’t allow her to be reduced to an object; couldn’t allow the Vorlons to use her to blackmail him into obedience. There was no other way out of the situation, no matter how sick it made him feel inside.

Damn. To think he’d been naïve enough to trust Kosh. In retrospect he was sorry he’d relied upon the Vorlons for any help at all. Maybe the Station would have been incentive enough to get the Minbari to accept his leadership even without the Vorlon’s endorsement. Because when it came right down to it, they were scarcely better than the Shadows. He should have been more skeptical and never trusted anyone but Zathras and Catherine. But it was too late now; the battle lines had been drawn and all that remained was the siege itself.

He pulled himself up straight and glared at his face in the mirror. From there on out, as far as the Vorlons were concerned, he’d make no compromises. He was tired of dancing with them; tired of making preparations only to be told to wait; tired of expecting the other forces the Vorlons had promised but had so far failed to deliver; tired of allowing them to have any power over him at all. Only weeks before he’d told Catherine of his premonition, of his sense that this was the time to move. Well, even if he couldn’t trust the Vorlons he’d have to trust himself. And so as he stood there naked in the bathroom, Catherine’s Isil’zha in one hand and a knife in the other, he decided to bring the Station’s jump engines on line and lead the charge on Z’ha’dum.

Valen stepped through the first airlocked door and paused before the second. It had been a long, long time – almost seven years – since he’d last stood at this spot. Seven years of bloodshed and pain and speeches and battles and destruction. The last time he’d been there, Zathras had done the work while he watched and committed the procedure to memory. Now Zathras was gone and he was the only person left in the Universe who knew Babylon 4’s great secret. Whatever you do, Jeff; he thought to himself, don’t screw this up.

“Computer, open inner doors,” he commanded.
“Unable to comply. Authorization and password required.”
“Computer, this is Jeffrey Sinclair,” he announced in English. The words felt peculiar on his tongue; since Delenn’s birth three years before, he and Catherine had spoken almost exclusively in Minbari. “Password phrase – eight words – ‘Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.'”
“Password confirmed. Warning, doors opening in ten seconds. This is a low gravity area. Atmosphere unbreathable. Warning, doors opening in eight seconds …” Out of habit, Valen took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as the countdown continued.

The doors opened and Valen dove into the vacuum, swimming his way to where Zathras had hidden the device he now sought. He busied himself with the work at hand, remembering Zathras’ instructions. Add another title to my list of credentials, he thought to himself; Starfury pilot, ambassador, war leader, prophet and now, electrical engineer. Who would have guessed it?

Frowning to himself, Valen worried about the piece of Kosh’s consciousness that he knew was lurking in the back of his mind. Did Kosh know what he was doing now? Was he unintentionally exposing his hand? And if he did know, would he interfere? Did Kosh have to consciously focus on his thoughts to read them, the way he had to do with Kosh’s, or was it automatic for him? How the hell could he exorcise a Vorlon from his mind? He’d never learned any prayers for that at Loyola Prep School!

Another few adjustments and he was done. He had reconnected the Station’s main computer to the microcomputer that ran the jump engines. All he needed to do was to give the order and he could take all six hundred thousand tons of Babylon 4 and her occupants into hyperspace. Meanwhile, he would pack the docking bays full of starfighters, finish evacuating all the civilians he could, and start sending his allies to strategic locations en route to Z’ha’dum. He even had Catherine's suggestion as to where he might locate some of the First Ones – the hell with waiting for the Vorlons to bring them – he’d try to enlist them himself. Valen pushed off from the wall and floated over to the entrance. Nothing, he resolved, was going to stop him now.

Chapter Text

-39-

In the wake of Marcus’s deadly pronouncement, Catherine felt herself growing faint again and sat down on the couch across the room from him.

“What happened to convince you that love is such a terrible force, Marcus?” she prompted. “Tell me about her. Who was she?”
“I do believe you knew her … she was Sinclair’s friend, after all.” He paused and as he lowered his gaze, Sakai leaned forward towards him expectantly. “Susan Ivanova.” Despite the gravity of the situation, Catherine’s immediate impulse was to giggle.
“Ivanova? You were in love with Susan Ivanova? You? With her? A woman so devoted to her career she made Jeff look like a delinquent?”
“Yes, well,” Marcus began, fingering his retracted denn’bok, “opposites attract and all that, you know. I actually think it was the hard shell she hid behind that first drew me in; me having been quite the mollusk once myself … surely you of all people should understand, Catherine, given Sinclair’s propensities … Mister Garibaldi led me to understand that at one time, the three of them had something of a competition going on – who had the most unused leave coming to them. I gathered that Sinclair was well in the lead until you showed up, and that Susan was rather put out when he started to cash some of it in – double shifts and all that you know …”
“Marcus,” Catherine interrupted, fearful he’d go so far off on a tangent she’d never be able to bring him back. “Marcus? You were telling me about you and Ivanova?”
“No,” he said, turning around and facing her again, “you were going to tell me about when it was that you joined the rest of us duty-bound crustaceans.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at yourself, Catherine. I mean, this is hardly the life you set out to lead, now is it? You resented that side of Sinclair – his steadfast devotion to his career, his overarching sense of responsibility – and here, well; you lost that fight rather thoroughly, wouldn’t you say? Lost it to the point of becoming a slave to it.”
“What?” Catherine demanded indignantly.
“You wouldn’t be in the fix you’re in now if he hadn’t chosen to put the Cause first, would you?”
“I’d be fine now if it weren’t for Kosh …” she began, knitting her brows at the thought.
“Ah yes, fine,” Marcus said, nodding with a sarcastic smile. “Catherine Sakai, stranger in a strange land, mother of four alien children and tolerated by the natives only because their Great Leader Valen seems to enjoy boffing her so much.” An angry flush darkened Sakai’s face. “Funny, that didn’t seem to be the ambition of the Catherine Sakai I met in Ranger training; that independent scientist, surveyor, and pilot! How did you get from there to here? Having no personal experience to draw upon, I’m afraid I must defer to you – is it the sex? Is sex with Valen really so mind-blowing that it was worth trading your identity, your freedom for it?” Marcus tilted his head at her while she clenched her hands into fists. “He must be better at it as a Minbari than as a Human, though. Back then you could take it and leave it.”
“What …”

Chapter Text

-40-

“Mmm,” Catherine sighed, opening her eyes at the gentle touch of Sinclair’s lips against her forehead and reaching for him with her arms outstretched. She frowned as she saw and felt his shirt. “Where are you going?” she whispered seductively, trying to pull him back into the bed. Sinclair smiled but leaned away.
“I’ll be back off-duty in ten hours,” he promised, squeezing her hand. Sakai tugged on his arm harder until he relented enough to sit back on the edge of the bed beside her.
“I’ll make it worth your while …” she teased. Sinclair laughed and kissed her quickly, this time on the lips.
“I’m sure you would,” he began, returning to his feet and reaching for the jacket he’d thrown across the end of the bed. “Unfortunately, I have to go – now – or I’ll be late for duty.” Catherine threw back the covers and tried to wrap herself around him.
“Call in sick.”
“What?”
“Why don’t you just call in sick?”
“You can’t just ‘call in sick’ in the military, Cath,” Sinclair chuckled as he zipped up his jacket. “You know better than that.”
“So go AWOL and stay in bed with me. What’s the worst that could happen given your spotless record? An official reprimand? The way they’ve been treating you, that wouldn’t matter a bit. Come on, Jeff; stay and this time I’ll quote the poetry to you for a change.” Sinclair’s smile faded as he stepped away from the side of the bed and out of Sakai’s arms.
“I can’t do that, Catherine. But I’ll see you later tonight.” He leaned over to kiss her goodbye again. Sakai ducked and moved away from him.
“No you won’t,” Sakai said, grabbing the clothes she’d been wearing the day before off the floor and starting to put them on.
“Catherine …”
“You spent an hour last night telling me what a cesspool this place is, with all the corruption and the Commanding Officer getting stoned on dust, but now it’s more important to you than getting back together with me? You haven’t changed at all, have you? No, I had you right the last time – it was stupid of me to think your priorities might be different now …”
“I don’t have time to argue now, Cath …” he begged in exasperation, even as he took a few steps toward the door. “Look, we can talk this over tonight. I’ll even put in for leave while I’m on duty today, okay? I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Don’t do this to me, Catherine …”
“I’m not going through this with you again.”
“Just give me a chance …”
“Forget it,” she said coldly, pulling on her shoes. “It was nice having sex with you again, Jeff. Really. As always, you were great. Take care.”

“Bloody hell, Catherine! Pardon my French, but you were one cold-hearted, emasculating bitch! Thank you for reminding me why I maintained my virtue!”
“He did it to me too,” she retorted defensively.
“The Entil'Zha?” Marcus cried indignantly. “‘It was nice having sex with you again; as always, you were great?’ I don’t believe you!”
“Well no, not just like that, but … this is ridiculous. I’m not going to defend how I acted then; it was a long time ago and it was a terrible mistake.”
“Quite. Now you’re content to keep the home fires burning … or are you? Norenn died because of your jealousy, didn’t she? And what were you jealous of her for? That Valen might find her a temptation, or her freedom to come and go as she pleased?”
“That’s not fair …”
“Certainly not. Death’s not all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll tell you that much!”
“You’re baiting me again! I refuse to play this game!”
“You don’t have a choice,” Marcus reminded her coldly. “You and Kosh made a deal. Admittedly, you didn’t have much of a choice then either, but you certainly did have a choice about staying with Sinclair, abandoning your career and freedom, about becoming Anla’shok, about remaining in the past with Valen, about having all those children …”
“And what of it?” Sakai demanded, leaping to her feet.
“Who are you? Why are you here? Where are you going?”
“Catherine Sakai. Because. I don’t know!”
“Precisely!” Marcus proclaimed. “We’re no closer to an answer than we were before!” The two glared at each. Feigning victory, Sakai sat back down on the couch and struck a casual pose. “So answer me, Catherine; what changed? You walked out on Sinclair because you knew you’d never come first in his life – and you didn’t do it once, no you left him over and over again. And back then, you had your own career too; your own interests and your own friends. You didn’t have to live vicariously off of anyone else’s adventures – you made your own! I think,” he continued, changing gears on her again, “I think the real reason you went after Norenn was that you were looking for a little excitement. Hoping for a chance to recapture your own lost glory …”
“My life is hardly lacking in adventure, Marcus! I have The Council to run, Delenn to mother, a household to oversee …”
“Valen’s Council. Valen’s daughter. Valen’s house. Who would you be without him? What do you have that’s your own, that hasn’t been given to you by or because of Valen?”
“I have myself,” she proclaimed, rising back to her feet. “I have my own free will!”
“Free will?” Marcus laughed. “How can you actually stand there, knowing everything we know and claim you have free will? It’s all been preordained for you, Catherine; everything that happens to you happens because of where you began. You can’t change that.”
“If that’s the case, then what are the Vorlons worried about? That means I’m here because I belong here, just like Jeff does. Besides, Jeff told me that Ambassador Delenn was descended from one of our children. If for no other reason, I have to be here.” She shifted her weight to her heels and lifted her chin high in self-satisfaction. Marcus shook his head sadly, a reluctant Devil’s Advocate.
“You’re forgetting something,” he said, and Sakai shivered at his tone. “You and Valen already have a living child between you – Delenn. The line of succession runs through her veins.”
“How can you know that? What’s to say that Delenn won’t be descended from one of the three I just …” Her voice tapered off as she looked down at her empty belly. How could she have actually delivered triplets and remembered none of it? Marcus shrugged.
“She isn’t,” he stated dismissively. “The rest of Valen’s children are superfluous.”
“Fine, let’s pretend that you’re right – that genetically, my other children won’t matter. But as you pointed out earlier, we both studied to become Rangers together; we took the same classes, read the same books, read the same stories about the origins of the Anla’shok and about Valen. Well, as I remember it, those sources said that Valen had a large family!”
“Agreed. But what’s to say he had all of those children with you?” Marcus queried harshly.
“Valen would never cheat on me,” she asserted.
“Ah, but if you died, infidelity wouldn’t be an issue. At any rate, for someone unable to answer the most basic questions about herself, you’re dreadfully certain of the Entil'Zha’s potential actions. Perhaps you’re simply afraid to consider the alternatives.”
“There are just some things Valen would never do, and cheating on me is one of them.”
“Really? Did you know he slept with a Minbari woman before you got here?”
“Yes.” No, she thought, he'd said he'd just kissed her. “He was understandably vague on the details, but he told me. Like I said, we share everything.”
“Just as you plan on sharing with him the details of Norenn’s death and Tadeer’s banishment?”
“He, he doesn’t need to know,” she whispered, hanging her head. “It could only hurt him to find out, and it won’t change anything ...”
“Which is precisely why Valen didn’t share with you all the details of that dalliance he had, or why he didn’t tell you that Ulkesh sent Norenn to seduce him.” Off her surprised expression, Marcus continued. “See? You don’t actually know all of his secrets – maybe you don’t know him as well as you think. How then can you be certain that you aren’t leading Valen astray, that you do still belong here? This is exactly the kind of mistake I made, Catherine,” he said earnestly, “I thought I knew what was best for Susan, I thought if I listened to my heart I could save her, but when I acted on my love I ended up hurting her more profoundly than I have words with which to express it!”
“All right, so we each kept a secret or two. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still need me here …”
“What would you say if I told you that right now, at this very moment, Valen has decided not to appeal to Kosh to save your life?”
“You mean Valen knows what’s happening to me?” Catherine asked, seizing upon a different implication in Marcus’ statement. “How? How does he know? Didn’t he leave for the front?”
“Yes.”
“So how can he know?”
“Kosh has … communicated with him about your situation. But never mind that; do you know what else the Entil'Zha has done? He’s given away your Isil’zha. I’d say he’s already trying to forget you.”
“No -- I don’t believe you!”
“You know there’s nothing impossible about Valen’s desire to be with a Minbari woman. In fact, Norenn ignited a primal curiosity in him; sparked an instinctive interest. It’s not as though you can’t imagine it happening …”
“No,” Catherine protested weakly in anticipation of an impending torment. “Don’t do this to me, Marcus. Don’t make me do it; don’t make me go there …”

Chapter Text

-41-

“May I join you, Entil'Zha?” Braoon asked brightly of the shrouded figure standing on the wind-swept overhang above him. Valen nodded almost imperceptibly, and in response Braoon gathered up his robes and climbed the remaining distance to the top of the mountain. Braoon peered at Valen carefully, trying but failing to catch even the slightest glimpse of Valen’s expression from beneath the hood of his patterned brown Anla’shok Na coat. “A spectacular view, isn’t it? When I was a young man like yourself, I came here quite often. It seemed as though I could survey all of Minbar from up here,” he remarked, gesturing at the panorama before them. Valen said nothing. “And I see now that it still does. What a joyful sight!”
“Death,” Valen murmured at last, sinking down onto a boulder at the cliff’s edge. “All I see,” he continued from under his hood, “is death. Sometimes I think I will never get the sight of it out of my eyes, that I’ll never be able to rinse the blood from my hands.” Braoon nodded sympathetically and sat down on a rock near Valen. “So much death, so much destruction, and all of it on my head.” Valen sighed and turned his torso toward the priest. “I’ve been a warrior all my life, Braoon; since long before I was … gifted with prophetic visions, and it was my misfortune to lose many, many friends in combat. There were occasions when our dead far outnumbered our living and we few survivors cursed ourselves for having made it out alive. Yet the worst of those battles of my youth now seems brighter than the victory that was mine at Z’ha’dum.”
“But you’ve delivered the galaxy to peace, just as you promised us! A hundred worlds sing your praises, Entil'Zha; a thousand new lives were born today, thanks to you.”
“Where you hear song, Braoon, I hear dirges. Where you see life, I see the broken bodies of my enemies and the ashes of my wife.” Valen rose suddenly and pushed the veil from his agonized face. “I have been thinking, old friend, that I am poor company for bright flowers.”

“He’s going to comment on your children,” Marcus interrupted. “What, by the way, do you want to name them?”
“What?”
“Your sons. You just gave birth to three boys. Valen left it to you to name them, did he not?”
“All boys? Three boys?”
“Yes; they seem rather identical to me, but then they're newborns and babies are not exactly an area of expertise for me – all that crying and fussing and spitting up. And of course you have to have sex to have them, a minor detail I failed to attend to when I was alive …”
“Are they healthy? Will they make it? What do they look like?”
“Funny little shriveled things actually. No wonder the First Ones consider us lower life forms. No hair, no balls and an extraordinary amount of pale blue skin – quite normal Minbari males from what I can tell. Since it doesn’t look like you’ll live to see them yourself,” Marcus continued frankly, “the least I can do is give you the chance to name them.”
“Rathenn, Jenimer and Durhan,” Catherine whispered feebly. “They were Jeff’s closest friends on Minbar.”
“What? No ‘Lennier’ for your ‘Delenn’? No matter, Rathenn, Jenimer and Durhan they’ll be. Now, where were we? Oh yes …”

“I have decided to turn my young sons over to the care of the Great Temple. I’m sorry to say that Delenn would probably refuse to leave me, but Rathenn, Jenimer and Durhan are still so young and oblivious. My house is not a fit place for their laughter.”
“You would so do our Order a vast honor, Entil'Zha, but I humbly beg you to reconsider. In fact,” he laughed, “I’m certain the Elders of the Warrior and Worker Castes would agree with me on this point. If you will further tolerate the foolish words of an old priest, Valen,” he smiled, “I would say that it is long past time you embrace something beyond your loss. Time you stopped looking back and instead moved on.” Valen turned away again and stared blankly at the hills and fields surrounding Tuzanor. “You cannot bring back the dead by renouncing your own life.” Braoon eyed Valen’s uncharacteristically slumped shoulders and shattered posture and tried another tack. “Your children have long since lost their mother; must they lose their father as well? The Council and all of Minbar awaits your direction, yet you threaten to orphan us all with your morbid obsessions. Even the Vorlons are concerned.” Valen frowned and shifted his jaw.
“No,” he muttered vehemently, “all I have left is my grief.”
“More accurately, Entil'Zha, that is all you will allow yourself to have.” Valen looked at the other man for a long moment before he nodded solemnly.
“Perhaps you are right,” he conceded reluctantly. “But I miss her so, Braoon; it is as though she took half my soul with her when she died. I see our sons and …” Valen closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. “I am ashamed to admit it, but it angers me. I see them and wish for her instead.”
“I think we both know that Satai Catherine would be displeased with you for that response. She suffered greatly to leave you those three precious gifts …” Valen nodded again and opened his eyes.
“It’s just so hard to let go …”

Braoon nodded back in understanding, then joined Valen in a prolonged silence. They watched the clouds paint purple shadows across the rivers and trees, and tracked a bird as it caught a thermal and spiraled higher and higher until it was too distant to see. Valen drew random hatches in the dirt with the end of the Triluminary Staff, then finally looked over at Braoon.

“Thank you, old friend. I think I was in need of a confidant.”
“There are many who would be glad to serve that role for you, Entil'Zha; more than you may think.”
“Perhaps,” Valen acknowledged. “At any rate, I thank you.”
“We live for The One, we die for The One.” The two resumed their idle study of the landscape.
“How did you find me?” Valen asked with sudden curiosity.
“Mayan said you might be here.”
“I don’t know how I would have managed my household without her able assistance. She is a good woman,” Valen said absently.
“And is that all?” Valen eyed Braoon sharply.
“What are you asking me, old friend?” he questioned carefully.
“I am sure it has not escaped your notice, Entil'Zha, that she cares a great deal for you and your family.”
“Mayan, thank God, was there for my children when I could not be; when Catherine … that is a debt I fear I can never repay.”
“Delenn seems particularly fond of her.”
“Hmm,” he grunted in reply. “She is someone ... special to us,” he finally mused.
“Have you told her so, Entil'Zha?”
“Not in so many words, no. But I’m sure she knows.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Valen, but didn’t you once remark that important thoughts should never be left unspoken?” Valen frowned and shook his head.
“You must be thinking of someone else, Satai. I’ve never been much with words – just ask Cath …” he stopped himself mid-word and ran a hand over his face and across the top of his head.
“False modesty does not become you, Chosen One,” Braoon laughed, as though Valen hadn’t pronounced those last three words. “You know full well you are an extraordinary orator.” Valen gave a small, uncomfortable laugh.
“Trust me, Braoon; I don’t write most of my own best material.”
“Still, you give voice to it well. And I am sure Mayan would be pleased to hear whatever you might have to say.”
“Hmm,” Valen vocalized noncommittally.
“She is from a well-respected Clan in the Worker Caste, you know. Given that, her youth, quiet personality, incredible talents with flarn and, dare an old man venture, beauty, I have always wondered why she wasn’t married long before she ever came to Tuzanor.” Valen cast a sidelong glance at the other man, then busied himself by prying a small stone out of the ground with his staff. “Naturally, someone of your unparalleled stature has no time to think about such things,” Braoon qualified, “but it is my job to attend to peoples’ spirits. I have learned that we all need intimacy, no matter how important or deeply satisfying our work is.”
“You say that Braoon, but you’re not married,” Valen noted, picking up the stone, turning it over and then dropping it back into its hole.
“Ah, but I was.” Valen glanced at him with surprise. “I was heartbroken when her time to go to the sea came … and in truth, Valen, I never imagined I would outlive her these many years. Had I known … I would have done my grieving and then sought consolation with another.” Valen clenched his jaw and frowned fiercely. “Please forgive me – I see my words have displeased you. But they were words I felt needed to be spoken. Do with them what you will.” Braoon stood up and gestured toward the horizon. “The sun will be setting in a few hours. I had best begin to work my way down.” He waved a hand at Valen as the latter rose to his feet. “No, do not shorten your outing on my account, Entil'Zha – please – stay and enjoy the sunset.” Braoon folded his hands and thumbs into the triangular Minbari salute, bowed, then swept up the hem of his robes and walked away.

“Oh God, Marcus,” Catherine breathed painfully, “please, please stop this here. Don’t force me to follow this any further!”
“Come now, Catherine – don’t be such a spoilsport. Haven’t you always enjoyed pondering ‘what if’? Liked to do a bit of speculating, reveled in a good ‘alternate time line’ story? I know I have. And besides, we’re almost at the really juicy part!”

Chapter Text

-42-

It was a cool and comfortable summer’s night, yet Valen couldn’t sleep. He listened attentively for any sound from the children’s bedrooms that might give him an excuse to leave his bed, but atypically all four of them were sleeping soundly. After a few more frustrated minutes spent staring at the ceiling, he threw back the covers with an exasperated sigh, grabbed his bathrobe from the foot of the bed and stepped outside. He looked up and checked the constellations first, as he always did, then examined Minbar’s two moons.

It was all Braoon’s fault, he complained silently to himself as he secured the sash at the waist of his robe. Braoon and the staggering power of suggestion. For how many years had Mayan lived in his house, cooking for him and taking care of him and the rest of his growing household? And in all that time, had he ever thought of her as anything but a loyal assistant, ever looked at her as well, an attractive, unattached Minbari woman his own age? No, of course not! He’d had Catherine. He’d neither needed nor wanted anyone else. Then Catherine died and his dreams died with her. He’d never considered the possibility of sex, love or marriage with anyone else until Braoon brought it up and suggested that he take another look at Mayan.

In retrospect, it seemed to Valen that he must have been working very hard not to have looked at Mayan in that way before. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her all through dinner, no matter how much he tried. How had he never before noticed the elegant curves of her bone crest and the way those lines seemed to be echoed by her small, high breasts? How had he failed to take note of her lithesome movements? Even the way she took a drink or lifted a bowl was sensuous. How could he have missed out on the lilting quality in her voice and the sweet way she laughed at Delenn’s endless and annoying questions? Had he been both blind and deaf? The fact that Mayan seemed to be completely oblivious to her own grace made her even more maddeningly attractive.

To his horror, he’d even caught himself comparing her features and figure to those of the three young women who served as nursemaids to his sons. Worse still, he’d actually drawn conclusions, chief among them that Mayan was the one he’d be most interested in sleeping with. For the others were acolytes straight out of Temple with no experience of the larger world. Girls. Maybe even virgins. He was far too old and cynical to be turned on by naïve girls. But Mayan? No one could cook the way she did and be innocent to the powers of the flesh. The dinner she’d served earlier that night was sin on a plate, and he was sure she’d be incredible in bed.

What the hell kind of thought was that? He was Valen, the Entil'Zha, Minbar’s renowned warrior-priest who had delivered the galaxy from the forces of darkness. He wasn’t the kind of man who went around ogling women, let alone those in his employ! It was improper, inappropriate and out-of-character. It was disturbing and unsettling and base. It was a thought that made him feel dirty and somehow adulterous – that was what kind of thought it was. The scary part was he sort of enjoyed feeling that feeling.

Damn Braoon. Some holy man! Grey Council or no Grey Council, where did he come off suggesting that he proposition Mayan, or that she’d respond favorably if he did? And here he was, actually dwelling on the idea!

Damned nosy, interfering …

Braoon’s words had left Valen consumed by the desire not just for physical intimacy, though Lord knew he could hardly think of anything else now, but for someone to fulfill even a minute portion of the role Catherine had played for him. He craved a companion; someone to bounce his ideas off of, someone to help him raise his kids, someone whose minor and petty complaints and annoyances he could listen to at the end of a long day. It was the need to be needed, to be wanted, to be loved; specifically to be all of those things to another adult, to someone who had a choice in the matter and had decided upon him despite other options. Maybe if he had that, he could stop re-watching the horror of the Shadow War on the insides of his eyelids every night and eradicate the memory of Z’ha’dum from his mind. Maybe he could put aside that image of Catherine’s bloody body convulsing in her death throes and remember her the way she looked when she was alive. Maybe he could finally break down the wall of resentment that kept him from feeling the love for his sons he felt for his daughter. Maybe if he had that, he could actually learn to laugh again, to even be happy again. Was that really too much to ask? Would Catherine actually begrudge him that?

“So, would you?” Marcus asked. “Not that it matters any, but just between you and me, would you? Would you be a jealous ghost, haunting him from beyond the grave, willing Valen to pine away the years, forever sobbing your name?” He asked the question with a melodramatic flare that Catherine didn’t find the least bit funny.
“Of course not! I love him – I’ve always loved him and I always will! How could I possibly want a future like that for him? But please stop making me imagine this, Marcus. Please don’t make me watch him with another woman …”
“I’d give anything, hell, I already did, to see Susan with another woman – or man – anyone, but it’ll never happen. I see that now. Pity I didn’t when I had the chance to do something about it. Actually, I can’t say I’d have done things differently … see, that’s the terrible, terrible thing the Vorlons opened my eyes to. It’s all in where I began. I couldn’t do anything other than what I did; not and be myself.”
“That’s ridiculous! People learn, people change!”
“No they don’t,” he dismissed. “’The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under the sun.’”
“Oh God, not the Bible! If I have to listen to someone quoting the Bible, at least let it be Jeff! He actually believed all of that stuff, tried to live by it. But you weren’t Catholic or Christian – you didn’t even believe there was a God.”
“Well fancy you, trying to tell me what I did and didn’t believe in! Seems to me you’re holding onto life pretty desperately for a Buddhist – aren’t you supposed to believe in letting go of your desires and the concept of the self and move on into non-being? Why are you fighting so hard to survive here?”
“Maybe you were willing to just lay down and die without a fight, but I’m not!”
“More literally than you’ll ever know,” Marcus murmured, temporarily lost in recollection. “But enough about me! We were exploring how the Entil'Zha will get on without you … and I do believe he was about to ‘get it on’ with your housekeeper …”
“How dare you say such a thing?”
“Don’t blame me,” he protested. “You’re the one doing the imagining! I’m just along for the ride!”

Damn Braoon, Valen thought again as he stumbled over a root in the dark. Damn him for being right. He couldn’t keep on living the way he was and he was sure Catherine wouldn’t have wanted him to. He turned and looked back at the house, its walls shimmering an eerie blue against the night sky. Eerie, he thought, because he was alone. If there was someone else there with him, someone sharing the night air, it wouldn’t be eerie. It would be beautiful.

There was a light on inside the house, at the far end of the building, in Mayan’s room; she was awake too. Had she noticed him watching her over dinner? Probably, he thought; women never missed those kinds of things – that was why they always made great Rangers. He smiled faintly. Mayan, telling Braoon, who was no mere priest, but a Satai of The Grey Council, of her interest? How brave and subversive of her. She must have realized he would never have considered approaching her without knowing her response in advance, and given the circumstances, she couldn’t have told him directly. Going to Braoon was probably the boldest move she could have made. She may have been born into the Worker Caste and employed as a chef and housekeeper, but Mayan was as strong and independent as anyone Valen had ever known. She just knew how to play within the rules.

Valen rolled his eyes to the heavens. In his entire life, had he ever been the one to initiate a relationship? He paused in his tracks as he considered the question and the women he’d been involved with over the years. Well, he had offered to take Catherine to dinner if she qualified as a Starfury pilot, but that had been as much a challenge as an invitation. Valen took another step, then hesitated. He’d never love anyone half as much as he loved Catherine; of that he was sure. His heart was too full of her and he didn’t want to let her go, even in death. Would it be right to take Mayan up on her proposal when he knew that? And what about their extremely uneven social positions? Once Mayan discovered he wasn’t entirely who and what he appeared to be, would she still feel free to reject him? Had clearing his dishes over the years demystified him enough? Valen sighed. He hated the complications of his position and as usual, they were unique. The Minbari didn’t necessarily expect sex and commitment to go together. But they also hung on his every word and action. How would it look to them and to his kids if he started screwing around? Even if the Minbari didn’t care, casual sex was less of an option now than it had been in his life as an Earth Force officer, since he would always wonder if the woman had truly consented or if as a Minbari, she simply couldn’t imagine saying no to the Entil'Zha. He remembered the incident with that nameless woman, back before the War. A repeat of that kind of scenario was the last thing he desired.

Mayan, however, actually knew him as a person and he was fairly sure she wasn’t trying to curry favor. There were far less risky ways she could have done that than by asking Braoon to play matchmaker. That she doted over his children and that they loved her in return meant a great deal to him. And if he were to become involved with someone from the Religious or Warrior Castes, there’d be grave political consequences. A relationship between him and Mayan could only emphasize his desire to elevate the status of Worker Caste members, a cause he’d been championing for years to little effect. At any rate, if he was going to approach her, he had to do it intending something far more serious than a one-night-stand. He had to decide if he was ready to open his heart, even a crack, and decide it now, before he saw her again. He sighed once more. Why did he always have to think so damn much?

A chill ran through him as he neared the house. Nervous, he laughed, he was nervous. It was like being a seventeen-year-old boy all over again. Should he or shouldn’t he? Would she or not? When he’d stared at the blasted surface of Z’ha’dum he’d been less frightened than he was now. Maybe the whole crazy thing was best forgotten. But if that was the case, why was he still walking toward her room?

“Entil'Zha?” a voice asked from behind him, and Valen twitched visibly. “Enjoying the stars?”
“Mayan!” he exclaimed stupidly as she stepped out of the shadows and into the pool of light spilling from her bedroom.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt your meditations, Entil'Zha.”
“Oh, uh, no, I uh, look, I couldn’t sleep,” Valen answered sheepishly. “I thought maybe a walk in the garden …” Mayan pretended not to have heard his anxiety.
“It’s too beautiful a night to waste on sleep anyway, don’t you think, Entil'Zha?”
Was there something leading in her tone of voice, or was he imaging things? She was standing right beside him now and pulling him closer with her smile.
“Valen,” he smiled back. “We’ve known each other far too long and too well for you to address me by title.” Mayan bowed her head in a grateful acknowledgment that gave Valen an all-too-fleeting view of the fanciful blue archipelago imprinted on her scalp.
“As you will, Valen.” He stared at her mutely, reduced once more to adolescence. “I’ve been thinking tonight about how much this garden has grown in that time,” Mayan said, looking past Valen at the tall trees along the edges of the compound.
“Hmm,” Valen hummed, eyeing the furrows at the back of her bone crest with longing. She really was beautiful. How had he never recognized that before?
“Grown enough to give fruit to these,” she continued, producing a trio of small, pale fruits from the folds of her dress.
“Tim’fa fruits,” Valen smiled with recognition. “Delenn loves those.”
“Yes,” Mayan said, “These are the first from our trees. I came out tonight to walk and enjoy the stars, noticed these ripe fruits and picked them for her, but …” Shockingly, she looked up and met his eyes directly – something no other Minbari dared to do. Her eyes were green, Valen noted, somehow finding that a significant revelation. Green, like emeralds, or wet leaves. “Do you think she’d mind if we shared one of them ourselves?” Mayan smiled devilishly and Valen felt his loins stirring. He quickly folded his hands in front of himself, painfully conscious of the thinness of his robe.
“I won’t tell her if you don’t, “ he rejoined with a dimpled half-smile. Mayan set the other two globes down against the wall of the house, then split the remaining fruit in half, staring at him steadily all the while. She held one piece out to Valen and he glanced at it long enough to see it was glittering with small, edible seeds and brimming with juice.

“Forbidden fruit!” Marcus exclaimed. “Great touch, Catherine! I’m in admiration, truly! You have a very textured subconscious.” Catherine only sobbed, unable to stop torturing herself with further images of the scenario they had begun. It was far worse than the physical pain her dying body was sending to her brain. She couldn’t stop.

Valen took the fruit from Mayan and watched with rapt fascination as she lifted her slice to her lips and languidly poured the juice into her mouth. She nipped at the ragged edge of the fruit, caught the thin, pink skin between her teeth, pulled it away from the pulp, then flipped it onto her tongue in a way that made Valen feel faint. Absently, he popped his entire half of the fruit into his mouth, eager to be done with the distracting stickiness of it in his hand. A second later, he looked away from her in embarrassment and swallowed hard.

“Did Satai Braoon find you this afternoon?” Mayan asked abruptly. “He had something important he was most eager to discuss with you.” Valen whipped his head around, an amazed expression on his face, and caught Mayan blithely biting into her fruit. Outrageous! To think this wild woman had been living in his house all along and he’d never noticed. For how long had she had her eyes on him?
“Yes,” Valen whispered as evenly as he could, knowing the top of his head was turning a very revealing shade of blue. “Yes he did.”
“And what do you think about what he had to say?” Valen cleared his throat and tried to find his voice.
“Mayan, there’s, there’s something, something you don’t know about me, something very important …” Their eyes met again and Valen blinked rapidly. When he opened his lids again, he found Mayan was still gazing up at him, her expression unchanged, but her calm was betrayed by the beckoning shade of ultramarine across her scalp. “No one, no one but The Grey Council knows, you see, that I, I’m …”
“You’re not Minbari,” Mayan finished for him. “You’re from the race Satai Catherine was from – the Humans. I know.”
“How … Did Braoon …?” Valen asked, wide-eyed and slightly angry. Mayan smiled.
“No, the Satai said nothing to me of that. You may not have trained me as a Ranger, Valen, but I do have eyes and ears, and I know how to use them,” she teased. “Living here, I saw how close you and your late wife were; as though you shared a great deal of history together. I overheard you speak fluently to her in an alien tongue on more than one occasion. I remembered how you described yourself at your Trial at the StarFire Wheel – ‘the Minbari not of Minbari’ – and about the way you spoke of those Humans. I knew.” Valen held his breath, unable to move or speak as Mayan reached out and took one of his hands in her own. “I knew, and I don’t care, except insofar as it makes you who you are. Your secret is safe with me.” She pulled his hand to her lips and bowed her head.
“There is something else,” Valen began, relentlessly moral to the end. “I, I don’t love you, Mayan. Not the way I loved Catherine. And I don’t think I ever will.” Mayan nodded and stroked his hand, unfazed.
“I know that too. But you need someone, Valen, and I need someone. And your children, they need someone. If we are close enough to one another that we can be honest like this and not be offended, it seems to me we have something between us at least as strong as romantic love.” Valen looked into her deep green eyes and as he did so, Mayan lifted herself up on her toes, leaned forward and kissed him. “And maybe that will come later,” she whispered before kissing him again. Through his shock, Valen registered the warmth of her mouth and the sweet taste of fruit on her tongue. It wasn’t love he felt for her at that moment but neither was it just lust. Whatever it was, he decided then and there to surrender to it, to surrender to Mayan and stop clinging to the past. The relief he felt upon making that decision only increased his desire.

He pulled Mayan against his body and kissed her eagerly. She was much shorter than he was and he had to bend in an unfamiliar way to remain at her lips. He could easily lift her off the ground and into his arms but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the gesture. Everything old was new again – it would be a years before he knew what did and didn’t please Mayan, and there was no point in rushing toward that kind of enlightenment during their first kiss.

Valen hugged her more tightly, then dropped one of his arms from around her waist and cupped her buttocks in his hand. In response, Mayan ran both her hands up his body, across his wide shoulders and then stretched up to touch his bone crest, caressing it skillfully and turning his mind to jelly.

“Mayan!” he gasped, and Mayan kissed him again in reply, then pressed her head against his chest as she explored the contours of his crest. “I, we …” Valen began, but she silenced him with another long and juicy kiss. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what they were doing, standing outside the house where anyone might see them, couldn’t believe how quickly they’d moved from one kind of relationship to another. But most of all, he couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying himself.

“Valen …“ she whispered, regaining his attention. Smiling coyly she took his hand, gesturing at the house with a movement of her head. Dumbly, Valen followed Mayan as she slid the door to her room open and pulled him inside. It was a feminine space, all pinks and purples and Valen’s eyes were drawn quickly to the single lamp beside her angular Minbari bed and then to the simple but elegant furnishings it illuminated. The contrast between her well-decorated room and the starkness of his part of the house made him realize what transients he and Catherine had been. He’d accumulated practically nothing material in his life as Valen – the only objects that meant anything to him were a lock of Catherine’s hair he’d had set under glass in the middle of her isil’zha medallion where the stone had once been, and her wedding ring, which he wore on a thin chain around his neck. Remembering the latter, he reached for the chain and glanced at the ring. He looked up again and saw Mayan, her back towards him, pulling her robes off over her head. It didn’t seem right to wear his dead wife’s ring into another woman’s bed. He fingered the ring reluctantly and then quickly undid the clasp on the chain, palming the jewelry in his hand. Stealthily, he folded the necklace into the middle of his robe as he pulled it off and then tossed the garment onto a chair.

“In Valen’s Name!” Marcus exclaimed to a weeping Catherine, sitting back down on the couch beside her in a daze. “I knew you could imagine him moving on to a life without you – but I had no idea how … vivid … your imagination would be!” He glanced at her with embarrassment, his dark eyebrows disappearing into his bangs. “I want you to know I feel wholly and utterly inadequate now -- in more ways than one.” Catherine had no reaction – she wasn’t listening to him. Crying, she held her belly and curled over in pain as the life slowly ebbed out of her.

Chapter Text

-43-

“Mama!” Delenn cried happily as she pranced out of the living room and away from Mayan’s admonitions. “Mama – look what I drew for you!” She tore down the hallway toward her parents’ room with Mayan four steps behind.
“Delenn!” she called in a loud whisper. “Your mother needs her sleep – don’t wake her!” Delenn glanced back but kept running.
“No! I wanna show her!” she insisted, waving a sheet of paper covered with studious scribbles as she continued down the hall. Mayan reached out and caught the small girl by the arm before she could slide the door open, then knelt beside her.
“Delenn! What did I just tell you? You know your mother’s going to be having three babies! She needs to rest. You can show her the picture later when she wakes up on her own.” Delenn pouted unhappily.
“I don’t want babies any more. I want mama!” Mayan shook her head with a smile and scooped Delenn into her arms.
“Come now – do you want your father to come home and hear that you were a naughty girl who wouldn’t let her mother sleep? No? I didn’t think so. Did you draw a picture for him yet? Why don’t we go back to the other room and you can make one to save for him, all right?”

Delenn glanced back at the door and Mayan looked with her. For a moment she considered checking to see if Catherine was awake and wanted anything, but quickly rejected the idea. The doctors had been complaining for weeks about how active Catherine had been – if she’d finally taken their advice to heart and wanted to sleep all day, Mayan wasn’t going to be the one to wake her. And neither would Delenn if she had anything to say about it.

Mayan shifted Delenn’s reluctant weight in her arms and headed to the living room without a second thought.

Chapter Text

-44-

Valen avoided making eye contact with himself in the mirror as he rummaged through the bathroom cabinet for the spray syringe he’d taken from Medlab. A half dozen small metal canisters tumbled into the sink and Valen cursed reflexively. He picked up the containers one at a time, shaking and then discarding each of them until he found one with some remaining residue. He hesitated before loading it into the syringe mechanism. No, it couldn’t be helped; he couldn’t risk the vulnerability of sleep. It had been while he slept, in an innocent dream about his father, that Kosh had stolen into his mind.

Valen pulled back his sleeve and slammed the syringe against a prominent vein in his forearm. He shuddered and dropped the mechanism into the sink, then hung onto the countertop for support as he waited for the expected jolt of stims to revive him. The sensation was slow in coming and weaker than he’d expected; he was habituated to the dose. Valen shook his head and breathed a jittery, involuntary laugh as the high finally set in. If the Minbari ever discovered that the secret behind Valen’s legendary stamina would be patented by a Martian pharmaceutical company in a thousand years … it seemed so preposterous he could hardly believe it himself.

Valen returned to his desk in the living room and fumbled with leaden fingers through the mass of star charts and status reports he’d strewn across the desktop. He knew before he saw Catherine’s Isil’zha, before he even touched it, that her condition was unchanged. He’d felt it through Kosh when she’d almost died; surely he’d know it if she were healed. He didn’t need a damned stone to tell him … but he looked anyway. Painfully, Valen smiled to himself. It was so hard, he marveled; so incredibly hard to give up the last, irrational vestiges of hope. No matter what he knew intellectually, he still hoped, he had faith, he believed in the possibility of miracles. He nodded to himself. So hard to give up hope – that fact would be his greatest weapon in the battle ahead.

He stroked the smooth, cold surface of the stone thoughtfully, whispered a few words of prayer, and pinned it onto his coat, where it belonged. Then he recalled the distressed expressions of the Rangers who’d first seen it clouded over, and his face darkened. He pulled off his coat, slung it over his shoulder and returned to the bedroom. Once there, he fished the remains of his flight suit out of the trash, yanked a narrow strip of fabric from it, unfastened Catherine’s brooch from his coat and wound the cloth around the stone until only the gold and silver imagery around the margins was visible. He returned the pin to his coat and pulled it back on, then fell against the mattress and again reviewed his options.

Clearly, he’d reached the point of diminishing returns with the stims, but when he thought about the intense withdrawal symptoms that lay ahead, it made his head hurt. Now, more than ever, he needed to be alert and rested, but every time he thought about stopping, about going to sleep, he worried about the Vorlons; specifically the one who’d taken up residence in the back of his mind. He struggled to squelch his sense of betrayal, angrily recalling the frequency with which he’d allowed Kosh to surround him, body and mind, in the previous year. To touch such a powerful mind, such ineffable knowledge, had been so … seductive. Yes, he bobbed his head, seductive. He’d let Kosh entice him, beguile him, given him the opening to slither past his defenses to his very soul. Now Kosh held Catherine’s life out like a glittering, golden apple, waiting to see if he would bite and cede final control. How could Kosh have roamed around inside his mind and still come away with such a poor understanding of him? How could he possibly imagine that Valen would relinquish his cause and blindly adopt the Vorlons’ – even for Catherine? How could Kosh think he was that unprincipled, that he could be bought, even for such a price? Why had he been so damned trusting? Valen closed his eyes, profoundly weary. This should have been so simple – he’d seen the future, after all.

He was relieved to hear the buzzer at the door ring and distract him with the present. He rolled off the bed onto his feet, then staggered into the outer room, flipping the cowl of his coat over his face to hide his fatigue.

“Come,” he ordered. The door opened on an unlikely trio – Marneer and Derann, each clearly unhappy to be in the other’s company, and a third person; Nukeen, a Ranger and priest of the Religious Caste.
“Entil'Zha,” they greeted Valen in unison as they entered.
“Gentlemen,” Valen acknowledged them, easing himself into his desk chair. Marneer glanced nervously at Derann, who gestured to him imperiously.
“Entil'Zha,” Marneer repeated, “work has been completed on all of the salvageable refugee transports remaining in and around the Station. Life support and engines are up and running on all but two of them – and those should be ready within the hour.” He crossed the room and passed a hand-held computer to Valen, who made a show of studying it even though he could barely focus his bleary eyes on the backlit text.
“Thank you, Marneer; good work. Be sure to thank the repair crew for me as well.” Marneer smiled and nodded. Valen paused and folded his hands together on the desktop before carefully pronouncing his next words. “As to the new volunteers, Shai Alyt?” Derann brushed Marneer aside.
“I had Anla’shok Nukeen scout them out, Entil'Zha.” He turned slightly to indicate his other unwanted companion. “I thought he would be more … sensitive … in explaining the mission parameters.”
“Sensitive?” Valen frowned. Derann shifted uncomfortably, Marneer dropped his gaze to his feet and pretended to be invisible, while Nukeen stood silently beneath the black hood of his uniform. “This may well turn out to be a suicide mission, Derann; I wanted that to be made absolutely clear.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha, I understood that,” Derann assured him hurriedly. “That is what I meant about ‘sensitivity’ – one soldier does not need to emphasize such a fact to another – it’s irrelevant – we live for The One, we die for The One. But your instructions …” Valen leaned forward across the desk and peered out from under his hood at Derann with a gaze made all the more piercing by the dark circles around his eyes.
“You have a problem with my instructions, Shai Alyt?” Valen demanded. Derann cast sidelong glances at Marneer and Nukeen, then dismissed them from his mind.
“Permission to speak candidly, Entil'Zha?” Valen granted it with a careless wave of his right hand. “Your instructions were for me to exclude Minbari from consideration; to gather volunteers for this critical mission from among the refugees still on board …”
“Marneer?” Valen’s aide looked up quickly.
“Yes, Entil'Zha?”
“I thought the last of the civilians were shipped off to relative safety yesterday.”
“Yes sir. Everyone left aboard is a Ranger.” Marneer chimed in. Derann snorted a disgusted laugh and rolled his eyes.
“If I may, Entil'Zha … the people he refers to as ‘Rangers’ are, in fact untrained refugees exactly like the thousands of others we’ve been evacuating for weeks. Refugees, with no one to vouch for them, with no notable skills; untested and wholly lacking in combat experience …”
“They are Rangers,” Valen stated pointedly. “They swore the oath before me.”
“As you say,” Derann conceded with more than a little contempt, “but is that all there is to being Anla’shok? There are acolytes straight out of Temple who can represent our Cause better! Even this … farmer,” Derann spat, gesturing derisively in Marneer’s direction, “is at least trained in the use of the denn’bok! That is more than can be said of these others!” Emboldened by his own words, he pressed on with his real grievance: “By right, this assignment belongs to the Warrior Caste!” Furious, Valen leapt to his feet.
“That’s enough!” He swept around the desk, shoving the hood off of his head and stepping forward until he was chest-to-chest, face-to-face and eye-to-eye with Derann. “You aren’t concerned about what it means to be Anla’shok, you don’t care about the volunteers’ lives, no, all that matters to you is keeping the so-called ‘glory’ of war to yourself! It’s the same damned Warrior Caste nonsense that had this army splintered into hopeless, useless factions before I arrived!”

Valen stalked off a few paces, trying to calm himself down but failing. In his long military career, nothing aggrieved him more than those officers who imagined themselves heroes, who thought they were superior to the civilians and institutions they were called upon to protect. How could he ever have imagined he could screen everyone like that out of the Rangers? Sheer hubris – he’d been blinded by his own propaganda.

“The glory of war,” he repeated with disgust, half to himself. “There’s no glory in war – only death and misery! Do you have any idea what these volunteers have already suffered? And yet they’re willing to leave the sheltering wings of this Station to carry our message to all they can find – or die trying. That’s what matters; not their combat skills, not the race or caste they were born into, but their selfless commitment to something higher. Who better to represent the Anla’shok than they?”
“I see, Entil'Zha,” Derann claimed, looking genuinely chastened, but Valen was too wired to notice.
“You see nothing,” he whispered angrily. “Here –“ he grabbed a data crystal off of the desk and hurled it at Derann. “This contains the flight plans I want programmed into those ships. Jump gate sequences, normal space routes, final destinations. There are three different sets of courses leading to each of a dozen locations. Divide the ships unequally among them and assign crews according to race so that each vessel, if boarded, will appear to contain escapees from a single star system.“
“Yes, Entil'Zha.” Derann shuddered as he struggled to swallow his pride in front of the other two Rangers. “I … apologize, Entil'Zha. I truly did not mean to offend you … it’s just that old ways die hard.” He bowed in stiff submission and backed away toward the door. Valen looked at him and suddenly wondered if he’d been too harsh on the man, if he’d been too quick with his judgments. The stims and the lack of sleep had made him edgy; he wasn’t sure of his perceptions. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, nor was it one he liked.

“Very good then, Shai Alyt,” he tried, backpedaling. Nukeen bowed, his hands joined in the triangular salute, and followed Derann out the door. Valen leaned against the desk in exhaustion. “Damn,” he muttered to himself.
“Valen?” Marneer began. Valen looked up in surprise, having forgotten his aide was still there. “There is something else …” Valen held his breath and steeled himself for more bad news.
“What is it, Marneer?”
“Our couriers to Minbar … they never made it.” Valen turned away, circling around his desk and sagging into the chair. “The Vree reported finding debris that could only have come from Minbari ships.” Valen touched his forehead against the edge of the desktop as he considered the information. “I’m sorry …”
“How many Rangers did we lose?” he asked, avoiding the personal implications of the report.
“Four. We don’t know if it was the Shadows or their allies or some kind of accident …” Marneer hesitated as he stared at Valen’s bowed head. “Entil'Zha … perhaps Derann is right. Few of the ships we are about to send out are even armed …” Valen shook his head and stood up. On this, at least, he was sure.
“No,” he said with certainty. “This is our best means of contacting all our allies. Four Minbari ships head out and are destroyed. Yet how many hundreds of refugee ships have left here in the last week and made it to their destinations unscathed? Our forays on other fronts have been successful – we’ve worn the enemy down. The attack on the Station, now this; they aren’t wasting their ships or ammunition on anything else. It’s down to us and them. If only the damn Vorlons would show up with reinforcements …” Marneer recoiled slightly at the criticism of the Vorlons, but Valen was pacing the room and took no notice. “No, I can’t wait any longer. Once those ships are out of here … Thank you then, Marneer; that will be all.” Valen cast a sidelong glance at him, expecting Marneer to bow and disappear, but the latter didn’t move. “That will be all,” he repeated.
“No, Entil'Zha, it’s not.” Marneer refused quietly. Valen’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “Entil'Zha … Valen … on our trip here from Minbar, you asked me to speak to you plainly; as I would to any other Ranger.” He paused, gathering up the courage to continue. “Yet if this concerned anyone but you, I would say nothing. But you, you will understand that I say what I am about to say only out of the deepest respect … and concern. I know you’ve hardly stopped since we got here. You’ve flown on escort duty, met with the war leaders, done whatever it was you did in the Core. You … your wife,” he whispered the last as if he feared that expressing the thought aloud and in full might seal her fate. “You’ve been working in C&C and your office and here at your desk. And all the hours in between, when you claimed you were off-duty, you were in Medlab with the wounded, listening to their stories, or consoling the refugees before they left.”
“Hmm,” Valen grunted, turning away. He wasn’t at all comfortable with the accuracy of Marneer’s observations or with where he seemed to be going with them.
“Valen, I counted a total of seven hours in the last week when you may have been resting … but I doubt it. Seven hours. Even less than the week before.”
“Are you through?” Valen snapped. Marneer wet his lips but held his ground.
“No, Entil'Zha. There’s also this.” Marneer opened his trembling hand to reveal an empty stims container. Valen froze and the color drained from his face until even the blue patch atop his scalp was ivory white.
“Where …” he croaked in a horrified whisper.
“Yesterday when I met you in your office. It was on the desk, in plain sight. I knew Alyt Benlar was coming in next with his report, so I … removed it.”
“Who else …” Marneer shook his head and dropped the offending cartridge on the kitchen countertop beside them.
“No one, Valen. They may wonder how you seem to be everywhere at once, but …” Valen nodded silently and stared at the evidence. Finally, he pulled his shoulders back and stood tall but defenseless, like a man about to receive his sentence at court martial.
“What do you intend to do with this information?” he asked quietly.
“Do, Entil'Zha?” queried Marneer, genuinely puzzled. “I, I don’t understand …” Valen hung his head and managed a small laugh, picking up the stims and laying his forearms across the counter. He leaned into the bar as he rolled the container back and forth between his thumb and fingers.
“Only two other people in my life have been friend enough to confront me like this,” he confessed, “and one of them is – was – is” he corrected and re-corrected himself quickly, pressing his empty hand against the veiled Isil’zha on his chest, “Catherine. The other …” he pursed his lips as he thought wistfully of Garibaldi and imagined how angry and disappointed Michael would be about him stumbling into a substance abuse problem. “The other would probably slap me silly right about now.” He set the stims down and regarded the man beside him seriously. “Thank you, Marneer. After we send off the volunteers, I’ll put in some down time, I promise.”
“Then I have nothing more to say,” Marneer smiled, breaking the tension. Valen bowed gratefully, but once Marneer was gone, he dropped his head into his hands and reflected on how badly he’d let his disciple down. It upset him in a way that Derann’s finding him destroying his quarters hadn’t. That was just embarrassing, and in an odd way, it had only strengthened his image as a warrior. But this … this was terrible. This was something he could never forgive himself for.

He just hadn’t been himself since he’d seen what happened to Catherine and the boys. The harder he tried not to think about it, the more it obsessed him, unbalanced him; the more compulsively he’d thrown himself into his work. The more of those damned stims he’d taken. The more he feared losing control to Kosh and the Vorlons, the less and less of it he had. And to let it come to this, on the eve of battle … he had to put a stop to it, once and for all.

Chapter Text

-45-

It’s so much easier to make a resolution than to keep one.

Despite his promise to Marneer, Valen detoured over to Medlab for more stims before heading to the Core. The last shot had been almost useless, barely getting him through the brief meeting with Derann and Marneer. There was no way he could complete the day's business without further assistance. He’d told Marneer he’d stop using stims after the volunteers left, so he wasn’t breaking his word. Not really. Besides, he was so far in, what difference would one more dose make?

It was an easy thing – too easy – for him to surreptitiously enter the pharmaceutical closet where he knew the stims were kept and help himself to more. Because it was War and his Anla’shok were first and foremost men and women of honor, no one was bothering to monitor the room – he knew that too. His only uncertainty was about how much to use, so he filled his pockets with extra canisters just in case.

He headed for the lift and stopped it between floors so he could shoot up in private, doubling up from his last dose. The medicine struck him with incredible power – all at once his heart was racing, his ears were ringing and his skin tingled with nervous energy. Perhaps 30ccs had been too much to take at once? Or maybe, he tried to convince himself, he hadn’t been using enough before. Never having used anything stronger than coffee to keep him awake in his Human lifetime, he’d only been guessing about how much stims to use as a Minbari. Either way, it was too late now. He left the transport tube and carefully discarded the empty bottle in the disposal, eliminating any evidence from his indiscretion, and with that, put the issue out of mind – he had something more important to do.

He entered the Core giving himself the chance to take a walk through the greenery and collect his thoughts. Valen allowed himself the smallest suggestion of a smile as he surveyed the largely empty space. He’d asked his people to do the impossible and somehow, they’d done it. The teaming sea of refugees that had overflowed Babylon 4’s living areas and squatted in the oxygen fields was gone; dispersed to training camps and colony worlds and the home planets of his allies. Only a few neat encampments now dotted the artificial landscape. Valen knelt and ran his hand across the tender green shoots of grass growing alongside the path in amazement. A few words from him had moved worlds – he still marveled at that, no matter how many times it happened. Who was he to have garnered that kind of power and respect?

As heavily as the responsibility of his position weighed upon him, the temptations that came along with it were worse. Especially now, with his drug-addled mind running on what seemed like six tracks at once. For there were things he could imagine using his army to accomplish, things the Minbari would gladly do for him if only he gave them permission. Things he knew weren’t supposed to be done. And like so much else, it was a struggle he had to keep to himself, private, secret. He had a Name to uphold.

He walked and reflected on the irony of the situation. He’d spent the better part of one lifetime searching for where he belonged, for a just cause to devote himself to. And only a month before, on Minbar, he’d been itching to get off-world, out into space, out to where the action was. Yet now that he had found his place, now that he was on the front and about to lead a vast army in an assault on the enemy’s homeworld, he was eager to get it all over with, to end the War and hurry back home to Delenn and God willing, Catherine and their infant children. But then … there would be so much else he’d want and need to do -- break up his army and redirect the Anla’shok from fighting to watching; solidify The Grey Council’s position on Minbar and gradually bow out of the way and let the Minbari rule themselves; find a suitable planet to exile himself to in his old age. Quite a list of things to accomplish after he decommissioned himself. Maybe it just wasn’t in him to ever be satisfied, to be happy with what he had. “How dull it is to pause, to make an end,” he recited silently with a wry grin; “to rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!” He might be falling apart at the seams, but he was fairly certain rusting was out of the question.

He could see a crowd gathering further down the path, then spied a small figure hurrying toward him. So much for time to think. Who was it – Marneer? No, Nukeen.

“Is there a problem, Nukeen?” he called out.
“No, Entil'Zha,” the priest assured him. “I only wished to talk with you alone.”
“Walk with me, Nukeen.” Nukeen bowed and fell into step beside him. “Tell me,” Valen began, “what is the mood of the other Rangers?” Nukeen mulled over the question.
“The mood … excited, I would say. We’ve been so busy since your return. There’s a renewed sense of purpose.” Valen listened quietly, nodding. “But there is concern too – over what is to come.”
“We will win the War,” Valen assured him with a disarming smile. “That is what is to come. But tell me – are there many who feel as Shai Alyt Derann does; who seem resentful of the attention our new allies have received?”
“I, I cannot judge the Warrior Caste Rangers, Entil'Zha,” Nukeen apologized. “Their ways, their concerns are a mystery to me. Their hearts are not like yours or mine.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge my heart, Nukeen; I have more in common with the Warrior Caste than you might guess. But that’s immaterial – what matters is that you are here just as they are,” Valen gestured, pausing in his tracks. “We’re all here -- the Anla’shok encompasses all of the Castes as one.”
“Your words at Mount H’leya called to my heart, Entil'Zha,” Nukeen said by way of explanation, “I heeded that call. To serve, to heal, to pray. And if as you say the only means to stopping the Darkness is to fight against them with the sword as well as the soul, then that is what I will do. We live for The One, we die for The One. But the Warrior Caste …” He paused and Valen waited expectantly. “I think sometimes they are more concerned with the dying part than the living,” he offered. Valen nodded thoughtfully and began to walk again.
“Me too,” he confessed. Nukeen looked over at him, expecting more, but Valen was silent, retreating to someplace very distant inside his hooded coat. Finally, as they approached the others, Valen spoke. “I appreciate your insights, Nukeen. Thank you for taking the time to share them with me.”
“It was an honor, Entil'Zha,” Nukeen bowed with a smile. He’d heard from other Rangers of Valen’s openness and interest in the concerns of his men, but it was a different thing to experience it first hand. Their conversation had lasted only a few minutes, but he came away from it feeling as though no one had ever listened to him with the intensity and respect Valen had. They reached a square and Valen climbed atop a one story building to address the growing crowd.

“I’ve been assured that you understand the perilousness of your mission – I cannot guarantee that any or all of you will reach your destinations unscathed. But since you came to me seeking refuge, you should feel free to demand nothing less. So if anyone wants to change their mind about volunteering …” He gave it a beat but saw from the expressions on the faces below him that there’d be no takers. “Well, good then. You’ll be carrying my most important message of the War – one too sensitive for regular courier – to our most distant allies. Should any of your convoys be intercepted, say nothing – you are refugees, nothing more. If all goes well and you make it to your destinations, demand sanctuary in my name and tell your contacts to proceed at best speed with all the armament they can spare to the Shadow homeworld of Z’ha’dum.” There were a few gasps and exclamations of surprise from the crowd, but that was to be expected. “To the rest of you – we’ll go with what we have. Run your last system checks, refuel and rearm your ships, then get some rest. In a few days we’ll be at battle.” He paused, then added; “And when the War is over, we will emerge victorious. That’s all – you’re dismissed.” He watched the thinning crowd for a while, then noticed Derann and addressed him in an undertone. “I’d like to talk with you about something – will you walk with me, Derann?”

Wordlessly, a bit wary, Derann nodded. The two men dropped down off the roof and into the garden below, away from the others. Valen led the way across the lawn to the main path and Derann followed close behind.

“I wanted to talk privately with you about our earlier disagreements, Derann; it’s not good to go into battle with unsettled business in the air.” Derann shook his head grimly.
“I understand, Entil'Zha; you wish to remove me. No doubt I would do the same if I were in your position. May I recommend Alyt Rueler as a replacement – she …”
“If what I wanted was your resignation, Shai Alyt, I would ask for it,” Valen interrupted a bit impatiently. Maybe trying to deal with Derann when he’d been up for two weeks straight without sleep wasn’t the best idea. Then again, there was no time like the present. “I said I wanted to talk with you, Derann, and that’s what I meant. I think perhaps we have not talked enough.” Valen studied his officer carefully; Derann seemed more uncomfortable at the prospect of a conversation than he had when he thought he was being demoted. “Why are you here, Derann?” he asked, deciding to go for the direct approach.
“I’m not sure I understand the question, Entil'Zha.”
“It’s a plain enough question; why are you here?”
“To serve, Entil'Zha. We live for The One, we …”
“No, no – don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me the truth. It’s clear to me you haven’t found what you expected in my service, that you do not see the other Rangers as your peers. I’m not even entirely sure what you think of me, which I confess is refreshing on some level – it’s good to be questioned now and again. So I’m asking you – why are you here?”
“I am here because we are at War, Entil'Zha, and I am a warrior.”
“Is that all then?”
“What more need there be? There is nothing greater a man might aspire to than to fight and die in service to his people,” Derann asserted. Valen stopped short, troubled by Derann’s response.
“A man might want to live,” he half-whispered.
“Life and death are but two possibilities for the warrior; neither is to be feared or favored over the other.” Valen stared at him with a mixture of horror and pity and a bit more understanding than he liked to acknowledge. He’d been there, once. Hell, he’d been there for ten years.
“Then it’s worse than I had thought.” He spied a small grove of fruit trees and headed towards them, his appetite as over-stimulated as the rest of him. Maybe the refugees had left a fruit or two behind. “I feared you might be here for the wrong reasons, and your answer seems to confirm it.” He slowed down his pace and turned again to Derann. “You speak so eagerly of fighting and dying -- have you considered the very real possibility that you will make it through the War, that death might not be your fate? What will you do then?”
“Continue to serve until whatever battle is my last,” Derann replied with a shrug. It was the self-abnegating way in which he said it, more than his actual words, that worried Valen. Was he really that numb inside, Valen wondered; did he have no other ambitions or desires? Was this what Minbari Warrior Caste training did to its members – turn men into hollow kamikaze pilots? No wonder Earth hadn’t had a chance in the War with Minbar, he reflected; we were fighting to defend our civilization, to keep some part of Earth alive. They were fighting because it was what they did – fight until there was no one left to fight. Pure obsession – not so much with violence as with maintaining the steady state of repetitive action. Even the damned Shadows had more of a motivation and goal than that!
“And what of those other things I tried to impart to the Anla’shok? ‘Delight, compassion and respect?’ Do those fit into your equation at all?”
“To be frank, Entil'Zha, it has always been my understanding that you spoke that way to make the War more palatable to the other Castes. Not having the benefit of the education you and I have had, they do not innately grasp the necessity of armed conflict.” Valen frowned. Why was it each caste of Minbari imagined the members of the others to be so alien?
“Actually, Derann, I was educated by priests before joining the military. And in my youth, I worked in construction as a common laborer. Does that surprise you?”
“Of course not; you are the Chosen One, the Entil'Zha, the Minbari not of Minbari. What applies to the rest of us doesn’t necessarily hold true for you.” Damn! Valen thought; the man had a rationale for everything. Suddenly, he felt bone-weary all over again.

Valen stopped at the base of one of the trees in the orchard and grabbing hold of a branch, pulled himself into the tree. Derann watched his arboreal acrobatics with an incredulous expression – Valen had finally managed to shake his assumptions.

“Catch!” Valen called as he lobbed a ripe fruit at Derann, then saw his face and laughed. “You’d have me be one thing or another, wouldn’t you, Shai Alyt?” he asked as he slipped deliberately from the tree to the ground, a pair of reddish globes in one of his hands. “You like things – and people – to come in conveniently labeled packages. But life doesn’t always work that way.” Derann glanced dubiously at the item Valen had thrown to him. “It’s an apple,” Valen informed him, sitting down on the grass and taking a bite. “A common fruit from my wife’s world.”
“From your wife’s world? How did it get here?”
“The Humans built the Station. A dream given form,” Valen mused as he surveyed the rapidly diminishing patches of red and green striped skin on his apple with a peculiar intensity. “Give it a try, Derann; they aren’t as ripe as I thought they’d be, but they still taste pretty good. A little sour, but good.”
“The Humans built the station?” Derann echoed in surprise, “your wife’s people?” Valen nodded as he discreetly spat a seed into his hand. “Are they going to join us in battle at Z’ha’dum?”
“No. When it’s their time, they’ll lead the fight. This time, however, is ours, not theirs.”
“But if they’re powerful enough to have built this place, why will they not answer your call?” Derann complained in outrage. He searched his mind for an explanation to the mystery. “Is it because of how … poorly … we greeted your wife’s arrival?”
“I’d be lying if I said they knew anything at all about that,” Valen assured him, starting in on a second apple. “They’re simply not ready. They won’t be ready for a thousand years.” Derann frowned in puzzlement and sat down hard beside Valen, trying to make sense of his words.
“They need not send us troops – just more weapons, a few more squadrons of Starfuries …” Derann was so clearly enraptured by the possibilities he was imagining that Valen had to chuckle.
“It’s no easy trick getting Earth to cough up funds for more equipment – I know – I’ve tried. At any rate, what you propose is simply impossible. What we have will be enough. It has to be.”
“But with more assistance from the Humans, we could easily obliterate the Shadows!” The amused expression on Valen’s face vanished and he set aside his apple core. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and when he opened them again they were black with a mixture of fury and despair.
“Obliterating the Shadows has never been our goal,” Valen hissed firmly through clenched teeth.
“But that is their aim for all of us,” Derann challenged hotly. “It’s simply the dynamics of war – those who win do so by doing to their enemies what the enemy would do to them given the chance. The victor simply gets there first.” There was a prolonged silence as Valen struggled to control his temper. When he finally spoke, it was in a rasping whisper, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
“Necessity demands that we defend ourselves. Morality requires that we also defend those less fortunate, less powerful than we are. Lamentably, there can be no compromising with the Shadows – we have no choice but to destroy their ability to make war. But that is all. You would have us become the enemy; don’t you see that? At the moment we slaughtered the last of them, their victory would be forever sealed. Genocide is genocide. I didn’t come here, didn’t bring this place so the Minbari could replace the Shadow tyranny with their own, I came here to change things, I brought the Station as an instrument of peace.” Valen leaned forward, rested his head against his hands and contemplated the ground in front of him. “I have failed you, Derann,” he said suddenly. “I don’t know how it happened, where it all went wrong, but I have. I’m sorry.”
“Entil'Zha!” Derann protested in horror, at a loss for further words. Valen shook his head and rose slowly to his feet, his anger redirected.
“No, say nothing more, Derann,” he instructed dully, “I see now that I’ve been a paltry teacher. If I’ve been unable to convey the most basic truths to one of my highest-ranking war leaders, then I’ve done nothing right at all. Once I thought it was my destiny to tear down the walls between the Castes and the galaxy’s different races, to create a different kind of army – one that fought for peace, but I’m a prisoner of history.” He drew the hood of his coat over his bone crest and down across his face. “Enjoy your apple and get some sleep,” he ordered sadly as Derann scrambled to his feet. “Too much has been set in motion for me to try to change anything now. I’ll see you in C&C tomorrow at oh-eight hundred.”
“But Valen,” Derann blurted out. “There must be something I can do to make amends …” Valen laid a hand on Derann’s shoulder and shook his head, then turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

-46-

Valen made his way back from the Core shrouded in his hooded coat, wishing it rendered him invisible. He felt incapable of maintaining the façade of competency any longer. “I failed,” he kept thinking; failed to protect Catherine when she’d needed him most, failed to live up to Marneer’s expectations, failed to teach Derann what the War was really about, failed to change history in the smallest of ways. He was a fool playing messiah. Worse than a fool – a junkie, for he’d had to shoot more stims while alone in the transport tube just to keep himself moving. He cut back the last, over-invigorating dose by a third but noticed little effect except that his heart rate accelerated maddeningly and his hands began to shake so hard as to be useless. It took him four tries before he could get his passkey into the lock outside his quarters. Finally, he succeeded and stumbled inside, his mind spinning furiously and his body pushed beyond all limits.

The lights were on. He always turned them off when he left. Puzzled, he drew the cowl off from over his face and looked around.

“Marneer?” he exclaimed. His aide leapt up off the couch where he’d been sleeping.
“Greetings, Entil'Zha! I remembered your earlier invitation for me to sleep here and decided to accept. I hope that’s still all right.” Valen eyed him suspiciously. It had been weeks since he’d made the offer to Marneer – why was he only taking him up on it now? Did it have to do with his discovering the stims? Even if it did, what could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him out to be a desperate addict who wanted solitude so he could abuse his drug of choice unfettered? He was screwed.
“Yes, that’s fine, Marneer, fine,” Valen answered remotely. Swaying unsteadily, he backed up against the kitchen countertop and leaned against it to keep himself upright.
“Forgive me for saying so, Valen, but you don’t look at all well,” Marneer observed sympathetically. “Please – sit, and I’ll bring you some dinner.” Mutely, Valen nodded and staggered over to his living room chair. He collapsed into it, a man defeated. “I intended to attend your address, but apparently I slept through my alarm,” Marneer apologized sheepishly as he puttered around the kitchenette. “How did it go?”
“Fine,” Valen managed dully, “fine.” He could sense Marneer frowning at him from across the room without even looking up.
“Is everything all right, Entil’Zha? You look troubled.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, contemplating his trembling hands.

Of all the people he least wanted to have see him falling apart, Marneer was near the top of the list. In the face of galactic war, Marneer still managed to maintain such a hopeful, youthful innocence, displayed even now in his refusal to rebuke Valen and by his apparent belief that there wasn’t anything wrong with his leader that a good meal and a nap couldn’t cure. He was generous of spirit, deeply committed and utterly incorruptible, all of which factored into Valen’s selecting him to replace Catherine as his aide in the field, and all of which made his awareness of his own shameful shortcomings unbearably painful. Damn, how he wished Catherine were there – she had no illusions about his all-too-Human frailties, and she never shied away from pointing them out either. He sighed to himself – what he wouldn’t give to have Catherine alive and berating him right now. He thought of unveiling her Isil’zha and checking on her status, but rejected the idea. He was miserable enough already – why compound the pain?

“Here you are, Entil'Zha,” said Marneer, holding out a fork and plate. Knowing he couldn’t hang onto the dish with his palsied hands, Valen hooked his foot around one leg of the coffee table and dragged it closer. Marneer set down the plate and Valen hunched over it hungrily. “I’m not much of a cook, so I hope …” Marneer continued, his words abruptly trailing off. Valen looked up from the food he was shoveling into his mouth and followed Marneer’s eyes back down to the floor at the syringe that had fallen from his pocket as he leaned forward to eat.
“Shit!” Valen hissed impulsively in English, jumping to his feet and smacking his knees against the low table in the process. He dug into his pockets with both hands and dumped the contents onto the table. “Get rid of this, Marneer, all of it!” he cried in despair. “And there may be more left in the bathroom; I don’t remember.”
“Already taken care of, Valen,” Marneer confessed quietly, looking away as if he’d committed a crime. He wasn’t so naïve after all, Valen reflected ruefully as Marneer carried the drugs off to the disposal. Probably just as well.
“Marneer, I, I feel I owe you an apology and an explanation …”
“No need, Entil'Zha. Indeed, it is I who has pried where he did not belong …”
“No, please, Marneer, the only one who’s done something wrong is me.” Valen hesitated, then pressed on. Marneer knew so much already, he might as well know it all. “Marneer, I have to tell you what’s been going on – I’d rather share my secrets than have you think I’m a hypocrite. I need you to know you haven’t misplaced your trust by giving it to me. The stims,” he said, sagging back into the chair and rubbing one of his bruised knees. “Remember when I was coming back from patrol, when I told you I’d seen Catherine dying?” Marneer nodded and sat down carefully on the edge of the couch. “I didn’t know that because of her Isil’zha – it just clarified for me what I’d seen. Marneer, there, there’s a Vorlon in my head – or a piece of one anyway. I thought that I could trust them. Well, no, that’s not true – I’ve never trusted Ulkesh. But Kosh – Valeria – I thought I knew him. He took advantage of that trust and snuck into my mind back on Minbar, while I was sleeping. So far I’ve been able to keep him silent, out of the way, but I’m afraid if I fall asleep that will change. The Vorlons want the Shadows defeated, Marneer, but I worry about what else they might want and of what they might do if they gained control of me.”
“But … I thought the Vorlons were angels …”
“Beings of light, yes, but angels? No. They’re no more who they appear to be than I am.”
“But you are The One, Valen; the only one who can lead us. We both heard Derann earlier, saw his reaction to displeasing you; the Warrior Caste fears and respects you. Without you, they would rise up and splinter the Anla’shok. We’d descend into chaos. It would be the end of everything.” Valen nodded, tears of frustration – and relief over having unburdened his secret – welling up in his eyes.
“That’s just what the Shadows want. Chaos.”
“And surely the Vorlons must know that, Entil'Zha. How could they dare interfere with you if they want the Shadows stopped?”
“’Only you can play the role as needed,’” Valen whispered, recalling Kosh’s words to him when he’d despaired over losing Catherine in the time rift and threatened to walk away from it all in 2259. “Something Kosh once said to me,” he explained. “You’re right, Marneer. They want to win this War as much as I do, if not for the same reasons. They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that victory.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head reverently. “Thank you, old friend, for helping me to see when I was blind.” Marneer smiled his usual unassuming smile.
“You would have realized the truth without my minor assistance once you’d gotten some sleep,” he asserted faithfully.
“Sleep,“ Valen muttered. “I’ve been using stims so heavily I wonder if I’ll ever be able to sleep again. And that’s not the worst of it – I’m starting to hallucinate – on my way back here, in the transport tube? I thought I saw people I used to know in another time and place. People who can’t possibly be here.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that happening due to sleep deprivation. It’s said that Sha’al Dorenn refused to sleep after the death of her son and …”
“And what?”
“That after two weeks, she died.” Marneer finished uncomfortably. “But it’s only a legend,” he added quickly.
“Great. Thanks for the reassurance, Marneer,” Valen said, managing half a smile.
“Valen? May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“You said something about not being who you appear to be – what did you mean by that? If you aren’t the man I see here now, if you aren’t the man I’ve followed thus far, who are you?” For a moment Valen considered lying, considered claiming to be too confused by the lack of sleep to know what he was saying anymore, but if he was going to make a clean start, the lying and the secrets had to stop. He reached inside his coat and pulled out the second Triluminary, one he kept hidden on him at all times.
“Take this, Marneer,” he directed, sitting as tall as he could manage and offering him the delicate triangle with a shaky hand. “Know what Catherine knows, what The Nine know, what Kosh and Ulkesh know.”
“Perhaps I’d better not …” Marneer said nervous about being placed in such illustrious company.
“Go ahead – I know what I’m doing. You’ve earned the right to know.” Tentatively, Marneer grasped the Triluminary in his hands.
“I saw this device when you were in the StarFire Wheel,” he murmured in awe as he examined it closely.
“Yes. Now see what the others saw there.”
“How?”
“Hold it up between us and think about your question again.”
“Like this?” The Triluminary flared and Valen winced at its brilliance. Marneer stared at him in amazement, his eyes wide and jaw gaping. In a matter of moments, it was over – the light from the Triluminary faded and Valen fell back in his seat again, exhausted. It always seemed to take something out of him when someone peered into his soul. Marneer looked down at the strange stone and crystal triangle, then up once more into Valen’s eyes. “You, you’re not Minbari? You’re a Human? Who …?”
“My name was Jeffrey David Sinclair,” Valen asserted. “That’s who I was before.”
“But why …”
“Would Derann or the rest of the Warrior Caste have come together under an alien’s banner? Would the Religious Caste have believed me to be a prophet or the Worker Caste a redeemer? Of course not. The Minbari as a whole can barely tolerate a Human as my wife.” Marneer dropped his eyes in shame. “It’s all right, Marneer; none of you were ready to accept me as I was. I knew that. But next time, when the Shadows rise once more, the Minbari will follow Sinclair – and the One Who is to Come.”
“So now … are you Human or Minbari?”
“Yes. No. Both. Neither.” Marneer nodded very slowly, carefully piecing this new information together.
“I saw something else too -- behind you – like a glowing tentacle?”
“That would be Kosh – the piece of him he left inside me.”
“That looked nothing like the angel Valeria at all! Not that I disbelieved you,” he added hastily.
“Well, to be fair, I don’t look much like Sinclair.”
“No,” Marneer laughed, handing back the Triluminary. “No, you don’t. You are not … furry,” he observed. Valen smiled, already feeling like a great weight had been lifted off of him.
“Hairy. The Humans call it hair.”
“And the Shadows, Entil’Zha? What do they look like?”
“I don’t know – I’ve only seen their ships. But that was enough.” He shuddered as he tucked the Triluminary away.
“Are you all right, Valen?”
“No. I think the last shot of stims I took is wearing off.”
“That’s good – then you will finally be able to sleep. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you,” Marneer said cheerfully.
“Marneer,” Valen groaned, “I’ve been abusing stims steadily for over two weeks now. You can’t do that and just stop – not without some ugly repercussions.”
“Then I’d better get you a doctor …”
“No! No, don’t do that!” Valen cried, grabbing hold of Marneer by the shoulders. “No one else can find out what I’ve done! Promise me that, Marneer,” he begged anxiously, releasing Marneer. “Promise me no matter what happens from here on out, you won’t tell anyone what you’ve learned today!”
“But Valen,” he protested, “if you’re sick, you should have medical attention …”
“Promise me, Marneer, promise me.” There was a raw fear in his eyes that Marneer would never have imagined seeing from Valen. It terrified him.
“I promise, Entil’Zha,” Marneer vowed. Valen nodded once in thanks, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the soft leather of his chair.
“This is going to be ugly,” he moaned, “maybe you should leave now.”
“No, I’m staying here.” Valen peered at his aide through half-lidded eyes. What a stubborn pain in the ass, he thought; God bless him.
“Then I’d better give you this,” he whispered, reaching to his belt and withdrawing his denn’bok from its holster. “And this.” He held a PPG out on his open palm. Gravely, Marneer took the weapons from him. “And maybe this too,” Valen added a final time, removing the Triluminary from his coat. “There are other things it can do,” he explained vaguely, “it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Including mine. Guard it well.”
“As you will, Valen.” They sat in silence for a spell. “Are you sure …?”
“Yes.” Valen thought for a moment. “Marneer … you’re positive you threw out all of the stims I had here?” Marneer nodded earnestly. “Well, good then,” Valen breathed. “Don’t let me leave the room until this is all out of my system. I mean it, Marneer – if you have to beat the hell out of me to keep me here, do it. That’s an order.” Marneer nodded uncomfortably and Valen reached for the fork he’d discarded and picked at his food. It was a wasted effort, he decided quickly, pushing the plate away. The one thing he craved wasn’t on the menu. “I think I’ll go lay down,” he whispered, and Marneer rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. With Marneer’s help he limped into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.
“I still don’t understand how you can sleep on that thing,” Marneer complained, trying to bring some levity to the situation, but Valen only shrugged, too tired at that point to offer a witty retort. Arduously, he pulled off his coat and overtunic and gave them to Marneer to hang in the closet. He struggled to remove his boots but failed, finally realizing he had no choice but to allow Marneer to help. Valen crawled under the bedcovers, drawing them tight around him as he shivered violently. “I’ll be fine,” Valen insisted with unconvincing bravado, “just give me a few hours …”
“Is there anything I can get for you, Entil’Zha?”
“One thing,” Valen asked, stretching out his right hand, “Catherine’s Isil’zha.” Marneer retrieved his coat and unfastened the fabric-wrapped stone and passed it to Valen, who clutched it in a death-grip. “Thank you, Marneer.”
“We live for The One,” Marneer smiled humbly. “I’ll be in the other room should you want me, Entil’Zha.” He pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside. As soon as he was gone, Valen slid out of bed and knelt on the floor, the sheets still wound around him.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he prayed, “it’s been a thousand years since my last confession …”

Chapter Text

-47-

“Catherine? Catherine?” Mayan inquired softly as she slid open the bedroom door. “Can I bring you something for supper? Satai Catherine?” She frowned in quiet exasperation as she entered the room and saw the empty bed. Far be it for the stubborn mistress of the house to call for help in walking to the bathroom – even as vastly pregnant as she was. She’d never met two people more reluctant to allow her to do the things she had been born and trained to do than the Entil’Zha and his wife. She remembered the morning she walked into the living room before dawn and found Valen on his hands and knees busily polishing the stone floor, and Tadeer telling her about how Catherine insisted on fueling her own transport flyer in Yedor. Thank Valeria for Delenn, she thought, or she’d have nothing to do at all! “Catherine?” she asked again as she crossed the room. Her throat constricted as she approached the open bathroom door and realized her charge wasn’t there. She spun back around, searching the small, spare bedroom with her eyes as panic quickly set in. Where could she be? The house wasn’t that big – there was no way Catherine could have left the bedroom without being noticed, unless … Mayan ran to the garden door and looked outside. Snow had been falling off and on all day long – might Catherine have been foolish enough to venture outside? Who could say? Even the Entil’Zha had been known to describe his wife as unpredictable.

“Mama?” a voice behind her inquired. She turned and saw Delenn standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.
“Delenn! What are you doing out of bed?” Mayan asked, closing the outside door and rushing over to the child. Delenn looked up at her and began to cry.
“I’m lonely,” she wept, “I wanna sleep with mama.” Mayan swept her into her arms and carried her from the room.
“Your mother’s not feeling well,” she lied, “but everything is going to be just fine. Come – where is the gok Satai Nermeer brought for you? I’ll bet it would love to sleep with you.”
“He’s under the bed eating my slipper!” Delenn giggled through her tears. “Come, I’ll show you!” She slipped to the floor and tugged Mayan along by the hand.

What was going on, Mayan worried; first Tadeer had disappeared and no one would tell her anything except that he wouldn’t be returning; now Catherine had vanished. As soon as she could put Delenn back down to sleep, she had some serious investigating to do.

Chapter Text

-48-

When Catherine’s eyes fluttered open again, she saw only a bright light -- Marcus was gone. Dimly, she heard her newborn sons crying in the distance, but she couldn’t lift her leaden head off the ground to bring them into view. She could only hope someone would notice she was missing and track her down in time to save them. Unless Marcus was right and Delenn would be her only physical legacy. Her motherly instincts refused to allow her to accept that. Someone would have to save them; they’d have to.

Ah, and Valen, poor Valen; she knew he’d never questioned that his Penelope would be there, waiting for him when his odyssey was over. Now that death was immanent, one of the things she regretted most was her complicity in keeping that fantasy alive. For she’d long known the truth – that Valen would live for more than a hundred years after he appeared among the Minbari and before he “passed beyond” – many more years than any Human could possibly survive. When he’d sworn to her – repeatedly – that he’d “be with her to the end of time,” he’d been blinding himself as only someone of his intensity and idealism could, to reality. Whether it was a matter of a hundred years or two score, it was inevitable that he would spend the bulk of his life without her. As horrible as her last vision had seemed when Marcus had prodded her into imagining it, now she found herself hoping Valen would move on – quickly – and find some kind Minbari woman to fill his nights with. Too bad, she thought, too bad she’d never broached the subject with him and given him her blessing. Too bad she couldn’t see him once more before the end. There was so much she wanted to tell him, especially that she was finding herself surprisingly comfortable with her fate; as comfortable, anyway, as a woman could be with the prospect of dying young and alone.

“You found your destiny,” she would tell him, “and for as long as I’ve known what yours was, I’ve known mine.” No records ever spoke of Valen’s wife, ever recorded her name or where she came from or how she came to an end. That she’d existed, that Valen’s marriage to her was considered scandalous was all the Minbari saw fit to write. Only she and he knew more, knew the truth that came in between – of the extent to which Valen’s work with the Rangers was a cooperative effort and of how many of his pronouncements and decisions were the result of their long conversations in bed. In that way, Marcus had been right when he’d said her future was preordained by her decision to stay in the past with Valen; she was destined to be forgotten by history. But he was wrong when he’d said she’d made the choice for selfish reasons and wrong when he’d said that Jeff had lacked any of his own. They’d both been looking for the place where they belonged, for a way to make a lasting difference that would be measured by something other than military medallions or monetary remuneration. The only real difference as she saw it was that Jeff had had a few short hours after the arrival of Valen’s letter to come to terms with his fate; she’d had almost five years. For five years she’d known she’d be forgotten, no, not forgotten; purposely erased from history. In a thousand years, in ten thousand years, there would be Rangers who would hold sacred the memory of Valen’s Name and what he’d stood for. And whether they knew it or not, her contributions would be part of that legacy. She knew it, and Valen knew it, and that was enough. What was it Sech Turval had taught? “Your death will have meaning if it comes while you are in the fullest pursuit of your heart.” Her heart was full; what more could she want? Catherine smiled as a tall figure cast a grey shadow across her face.

“Jeff,” she breathed deliriously; “Jeff, I knew that you would come.” He knelt down to her and smiled, that sad, wise, empathetic half-a-smile she’d seen cross his face so many times, the one that he expressed as much in his eyes as with his lips. With her last ounce of strength she reached out to take his hand. “It’s all right, Jeff; I’m ready now, ready, willing and able. Entil'Zha veni! I lived for The One, I die for The One.”

Chapter Text

-49-

Marneer crept up to the frosted glass doors that divided Valen’s quarters into two rooms and tried to spy on him through the crack between the panels. At long last, the place was silent and Marneer was hoping it was because Valen had fallen asleep. Over the last few hours he’d become almost accustomed to hearing his typically composed leader alternately chanting in a foreign tongue, ranting at people who weren’t there, or coughing and wailing plaintively in pain. Early on during his ordeal, Valen had called for him by name, but when Marneer entered the bedroom, Valen became agitated and addressed him as something or someone called “garbelldee.” Later, wild-eyed and craving drugs, Valen had flung apart the doors and stormed half-way across the living room before he noticed Marneer and seemed to come to his senses, apologizing profusely and retreating to the other room almost as quickly as he’d burst forth.

Meanwhile, Marneer had been busy deflecting Valen’s calls – status reports, requests for authorization, and most disturbingly, a raw plea from Derann for permission to meet with the Entil'Zha privately. The Shai Alyt had been none too pleased to gather that Marneer had taken roost in the very place he was being denied entrance to, and Marneer worried Derann would show up in person to argue his case. But for now, everything was quiet.

Marneer nudged the doors apart and in the faint blue light from the bedside lamp, saw a scene of destruction. The sheets and blankets from the bed were knotted and twisted into rope and the meager contents of Valen’s dresser drawers were strewn across the room as if he’d been searching for something. The closet door was ajar and all of the hangers from within lay broken on the floor atop Valen’s coat. Cautiously recalling Valen’s warning, Marneer placed his hand on his denn’bok as he entered the room.

“Valen?” he asked quietly, “Valen, are you all right? Where are you?” Marneer approached the empty bed and finally found him, sitting on the floor in the far corner of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, his head bowed and his face hidden. “Valen?” Marneer asked again, gently reaching out to touch him. With glacial slowness, Valen lifted his head and looked up with unfocused, bloodshot eyes. Marneer gasped at his tortured appearance. Valen’s skin was grey, his facial muscles were slack and there were bloody lesions on either side of his scalp. It appeared as if he’d been trying to tear the bone crest from his head. Valen’s head lolled to one side, and when he spoke, his tone was almost robotic.

“Lieutenant Jeffrey D. Sinclair. Death’s Hand Squadron, Earth Alliance. Serial number 05978836 dash 12. Why are you doing this? Why are you …”
“Valen? It’s me, Marneer. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Is that Human? Speak to me in Minbari. Valen?” For a moment Valen’s eyes seemed to register on something and he smiled lovingly.
“Catherine?” he rasped, “Catherine, thank God you’re still alive,” he said in Adrinato, the Religious Caste language. He stretched out his hand as if he were going to grasp onto something and Catherine’s Isil’zha unrolled from its wrapping and tumbled onto the floor. Before he closed his hand again, Marneer could see a perfect imprint of the pin pressed into the middle of Valen’s palm.
“Valen? What is it? Va …” Suddenly, Valen leapt up at Marneer, knocking him to the ground and wrapping his hands around his throat.
“You bastard! You dirty, fucking bastard! How dare you say it doesn’t matter if she lives or dies? It matters to me!” he bellowed as he throttled a confused and struggling Marneer.

Fighting for his life, Marneer wrestled with Valen, finally managing to tear Valen’s hands from his neck. Both men scrambled to their feet, Valen still shouting furiously at someone, cursing them for betraying him, blaming them for taking Catherine’s life.

“If it’s motives you’re judging her by, she’s no more or less worthy than me! If you’re going to murder her, then take me too, or so help me God, I’ll kill you for this! I’ll kill all of you!”

Despite his angry strength and the fact that he’d taken Marneer by surprise, Valen was a poor match in his deteriorated and delusional state for a younger man he’d trained himself. Marneer flipped open his fighting pike and when Valen lunged at him a second time, he struck him in the ribs, knocking him to the floor. As Valen went down, he kicked Marneer’s legs out from under him and Marneer responded instinctively, directing a powerful two-handed blow with his denn’bok at Valen’s head. Out of his mind but not oblivious, Valen swung away almost in time. Marneer's pike careened off his bone crest, shattering off a peak from it on the left side of his head. The force of the concussion brought Valen down to his knees and his maniacal appearance gave way to a mute but visible sense of confusion.

“Valen!” Marneer appealed once more, “it’s me, Marneer; your aide, your friend! Don’t you remember, Valen? It’s Marneer.”
“Marneer?” he croaked uncertainly. “Marneer?”
“Yes, Valen. We’re on the Station. You were … imagining things. But everything is all right now.”
“Marneer? The Station? No. Catherine, Kosh, Tuzanor …”
“No, Valen. You were hallucinating. You’re here with me.” Valen shook his head violently.
“No, I’m telling you! I was there!”
“That’s impossible, Entil'Zha, I’ve been sitting outside in the living room for hours and you never left the room. I came in and you … attacked me. Don’t you remember?” Valen blinked rapidly, trying to focus and rubbing his head, in the process bumping his hand across his broken crest and doubling over in fresh pain.
“Damn, I thought I only dreamt doing that,” he muttered as he returned to reality.
“I, I’m sorry, Valen, that was my fault. I wasn’t thinking … I’m sorry …” Valen lifted his head slightly and his eyes widened as he noted Marneer’s open denn’bok.
“No,” he denied in renewed puzzlement, “I didn’t attack you, it was Kosh. Catherine … her blood is right here on my hands …” He held them out, then saw the Isil’zha’s outline on his palm. “My God,” he panicked, “Catherine’s Isil’zha! What did I do with it?” Marneer discarded his denn’bok and the two men fell on all fours, searching the floor.
“Here!” Marneer exclaimed in triumph, retrieving a metallic object from under the bed. “Oh … Valen,” he lamented as he got a better look at it. Valen snatched it from Marneer’s hand. Where the crystal isil’zha stone had been mounted in the center of the pin, only tiny, bloody grey fragments still remained. “That, that doesn’t mean anything,” Marneer quickly tried to convince him. “It must have broken when you dropped it during our fight …” They stared at the hollow oval in mutual dismay. “It doesn’t mean, it doesn’t mean …”
“She’s dead,” Valen concluded flatly. “I was with her – she called for me, I saw her …”
“I told you, you were here …”
“Kosh,” Valen snapped, the unspoken words “you idiot” hanging in the air between them. “You saw it – he’s in my head. And through his mind, I was in hers. She believed she was about to die …” Marneer silently helped him off the floor and into the disordered bed, then resumed his search of the floor. “What are you doing?” Valen asked in annoyance, only vaguely interested.
“Looking for the piece of your crest – the doctors can bond it back on.” Valen waved him off.
“Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.” He picked at the empty setting in Catherine’s Isil’zha with his thumb and sighed.
“But Valen, for someone of your status …”
“I’ve heard that argument before,” he grunted. “It’ll grow back. Besides, the outcome of the War will be the same whether my crest is whole or not … whether my heart is whole or not.” Marneer nodded sympathetically and shoved aside a handful of ruined sheets as he sat down beside Valen.
“You’re certain it really happened? You thought so before, but she hung on … you could have been dreaming …” Valen closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I, I’m so sorry, Valen. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“I should get you a doctor – I might have given you a concussion …”
“And just how would we explain all this … redecorating?” Valen asked with an abbreviated gesture. “Just get me some ice. And some pain tabs.”
“Yes, Valen.” Marneer stood up and retrieved his denn’bok from the floor, then paused and stared at his battered and heartbroken leader, searching for words. “I …”
“Go on,” Valen pre-empted him, “my head is killing me.”

Marneer bowed to him, then hurried out to the kitchen. Valen took another long look at the damaged Isil’zha before gingerly stretching out across the mattress. With masochistic curiosity, he felt at the hole in his crest. The fresh pain from the exposed nerves sent him staggering into the bathroom to vomit. Marneer reentered the room only to creep back out at the sound of Valen retching. He waited outside the glass doors until he heard Valen returning to bed, then came in bearing an ice pack, a glass of water and a fistful of pain tabs, all of which Valen accepted gratefully.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asked solicitously.
“A little,” Valen answered, laying back carefully as he pressed the ice to his head. “When I wasn’t jumping out of my skin or reliving old nightmares. How is it out there?” He jerked a thumb towards the door.
“Crews have been reporting in as they wrap up their projects.” Marneer hesitated. “More and more allied ships are joining us. And Derann wanted to meet with you. I told him you were planning strategy and would get back to him once you were free.”
“Derann?” Valen asked with concern, sitting back up. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to rest.”
“No, really, Marneer; I’m scheduled to meet him in Command and Control at oh-eight hundred.” Marneer cringed slightly.
“It’s oh-seven thirty now … but Valen, you’re in no condition to go anywhere, thanks to me …”
“The Humans have an expression; ‘time waits for no man,’” Valen said wearily, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Unfortunately for me, I’m no exception.” He stood up with a groan, then sat back down. “Could you find me something to wear, Marneer? Something I didn’t ruin?”
“Of course, Valen. Are you sure you can make it?” Valen shrugged.
“I have to. Things have been set in motion – I have to see them through.” He looked at Marneer’s dubious expression. “I’ll do what I have to do up there and then come right back – trust me, I’m in no mood for unnecessary heroics.” He started to pull off his grimy shirt, then considered the fact that he’d have to get it over his head and changed his mind. His tunic and coat would have to hide a world of sins.
“I’m so sorry, Valen,” Marneer began again as he watched Valen struggle to get dressed.
“Stop apologizing and help me get to C&C,” Valen responded, then tried his best to smile before cautiously dropping the hood of his coat over his ruined head and face. “But the next time I order you to beat the hell out of me, try not to take it so literally.”

Valen seemed to gain strength from his renewed sense of purpose, leading Marneer to think he was going to make it okay, right up until the moment they were in the transport tube and Valen fell against the wall, a peculiar look in his eyes.

“He’s here,” Valen announced in an undertone, “they’re here.” Marneer stepped back, convinced Valen was hallucinating again.
“Valen …?” he began warily. Valen turned to him, his eyes wide and angry underneath his hood.
“They’re here,” he insisted.
“Who’s …”
“Entil'Zha!” a voice called to them from Valen’s link. Valen stabbed at it.
“Valen here.”
“A jumpgate is opening … correction; jumpgates are opening all around us!”
“Hold your fire,” Valen ordered, “It’s reinforcements. I’m on my way!” Marneer gazed at him intently, uncertain of whether Valen’s perceptions were trustworthy or not, when the lift doors opened and Valen swept into C&C to a flurry of activity. Marneer gaped at the main view screen – an armada of strange and enormous ships were filling the sky, a small Vorlon personal transport in the lead.
“How did you know …” he gasped, then remembered the Vorlon in Valen's head.
“Ulkesh Naranek,” Valen said, his voice devoid of all emotion, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Chapter Text

-50-

Valen stayed in C&C just long enough to turn the place over to Derann. Then, fired up to a pace Marneer could scarcely believe he could manage, he set off for the docking bays. Dogging him through the Central Corridor, Marneer tried to get his attention.

“Valen, Valen,” he called futilely, “Valen, I know you’re angry with the Vorlons now, and I understand why, but Valen, are you sure …”
“Am I sure of what?” Valen demanded, stopping short and whirling around on his aide. “Am I sure they can’t be trusted? Am I sure they’ve been manipulating things behind the scenes, behind my back? Am I sure they mean to keep the Minbari captive to their every mysterious whim for the next thousand years? Am I sure Ulkesh ordered Kosh to murder my wife and sons? Yes, I’m sure of all of it,” he pronounced angrily as he resumed his mad pace through the Core.
“Are you sure you should meet with him now, right now? You’re angry, grieving, injured and need to sleep. Those are not the elements of a successful negotiation.”
“There’s nothing to negotiate,” Valen assured him stubbornly, “there’s simply what will be done. And making sure that the Vorlons participate in it.”
“But Valen, all those other incredible and terrible ships … did you see them? It’s not just the Vorlons who’ve arrived! This is what I believe you would call a first contact situation …”
“I’m well aware of that, Marneer,” Valen said with more than a trace of irritation, “I may not be in factory-new condition right now, but all thrusters are firing just fine.” He stopped at the door to Bay 9, where Ulkesh’s ship had been routed and caught his breath. “This may get a little … heated. It would probably be better if you don’t follow me in.”
“Is that an order, Entil'Zha?” Valen glanced sideways at him.
“No,” he decided a bit reluctantly, “not since you still have my weapons.”

They entered the bay just as Ulkesh’s ship was docking, its wings folded tightly against its mottled vermilion and black body.

“It’s magnificent!” Marneer breathed in awe. “I’ve seen them in orbit over Minbar, but I’ve never been this close to a Vorlon ship before.” Valen couldn’t help but nod in mutual admiration. Whatever he thought of the Vorlons themselves, their skill in designing spacecraft couldn’t be denied.
“Just don’t try to get any closer without permission,” he warned, “they can bite.” Marneer looked at him incredulously and Valen nodded seriously. “They’re alive,” he explained further, “and sentient.”
“You’ve … talked to one?” Marneer asked as he re-appraised the ship, not quite sure if Valen was teasing him for being so naive.
“After a fashion. One sang to me once.”
“Sang to you?” Marneer queried. “What did it sound like?” Valen closed his eyes and remembered the ecstatic song Kosh’s ship had played in reflection of his own pure joy over being reunited with Catherine. What dirge would it compose for him now, he wondered?
“A hymn,” he said simply. “Look,” he advised, pointing at the middle of the ship, where a section of its bulbous side seemed to undulate slightly as it ejected a Vorlon in an ominously-shaped purple encounter suit.
“Oh!” Marneer exclaimed, reflexively falling to his knees and bowing his head as Ulkesh glided towards them.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Valen hissed in displeasure, pulling Marneer up by the elbow. Torn between two masters, Marneer stood up but kept his eyes lowered. The Vorlon swept in front of Valen and the two figures glared at each other for several minutes. Valen clenched his fists. Ulkesh’s suit fizzled and buzzed.
“Entil'Zha,” Ulkesh finally intoned.
“Ulkesh,” Valen said, pointedly omitting any honorifics. The staring contest resumed, with Marneer poised beside the two and afraid to breathe.
“Why is he here?” Ulkesh demanded wrathfully, and Marneer flinched before realizing it wasn’t his insignificant presence the Vorlon was objecting to.
“Why don’t you tell me, Ulkesh?” Valen challenged back. “My consent was not an issue in this matter. He’s here because he put himself here.” The feelers on Ulkesh’s enormous purple collar whirled around almost nervously.
“This is … intolerable!” Ulkesh remonstrated. “Release him at once!” Valen laughed; in this context it was a sound that set Marneer shivering.
“I’d love to comply, Ulkesh, but unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to want to leave. Maybe,” he suggested ominously, “he’s checking up on you.” He advanced on the Vorlon so aggressively that Ulkesh actually shuffled back a step. “I know what happened back on Minbar after I left – what I want to know is why?”
“We were … studying,” Ulkesh hummed.
“Studying?” Valen mocked, “You were meddling! We’re all just pawns to you, aren’t we, Ambassador? Expendable, replaceable, malleable pawns in your little chess game with the Shadows. We only matter to you in the aggregate, as blocs for you to win or lose or sacrifice. All except for me – I’m the Entil'Zha, the One Who Brings the Future – you need me! So you tried to intimidate me, manipulate me, subdue me. You sent that poor, demented woman after me – why? Were you hoping to blackmail me? Did you honestly think I was that stupid, that fickle, that faithless? And when that didn’t work, you kidnapped and then killed my wife!”
“Valen …” Marneer warned, nervously tugging on Valen’s sleeve.
“I’ve got news for you, Ulkesh,” Valen spat, ripping free of Marneer’s restraining hand, and letting the hood fall away from his ravaged face; “that was your fatal mistake! When you killed Catherine, you killed my one desire, the last ounce of fear left in me and the only thing that was staying my hand! I’ve made my peace with God; I have a clear conscience. There’s nothing left you can do to hurt me that you haven’t already done, nothing you can do to stop me … short of killing me!”
“Impudent …” There was a noisy electronic hum building up from inside Ulkesh’s suit that Marneer and Valen felt as an uncomfortable tingling on their skin.
“Go ahead,” Valen baited him, “just remember, anything you do to me, you risk doing to Kosh! Are you willing to chance hurting one of your own? And what about the damage to your cause? Tell him, Marneer; tell him what you said earlier would happen to the Anla’shok without me?”
“Infighting, dissolution,” Marneer said truthfully and nervously.
“Exactly. You know it’s true, Ulkesh, and I know you know. Do you want to know how?” Valen added off-handedly. “With a telepath inside of me, I can read your mind, Ulkesh; if I want to I can even learn your secrets. I’m sure you have many.” Marneer gasped. Ulkesh groaned discordant musical tones.
“Bluffing.”
“Maybe,” Valen confessed, smiling evilly, “maybe I can’t do it with just this fragment of Kosh inside of me, but then you have your methods and I have mine … Marneer, I believe you have something that belongs to me?” he asked, holding his eyes steady on Ulkesh and his hand out to the side.
“Yes, of course, Entil'Zha,” Marneer said with imaginary calm, fishing the Triluminary out from inside his uniform and placing it in Valen’s palm. The iris in Ulkesh’s angular, mechanical head ratcheted down to a pinprick.
“The best part of all of this,” Valen continued conversationally to Marneer as he placed his thumbs and forefingers on two of the corners of the Triluminary, “is that I’ve seen the future and know exactly how this all turns out … have you, Ulkesh Naranek?” Marneer squeezed his eyes shut, terrified to see what would happen next.

The seconds ticked away as the future arrived. Ulkesh’s suit powered down. Amazed, Marneer opened his eyes – Ulkesh, Valen, the Triluminary, the ship, the docking bay, himself – they were all still there. Valen had won his bet – Ulkesh wasn’t willing to take the risk that his claims were fabrications. Valen smiled wryly.

“All right,” Valen said, “wise choice. Here’s how this is going to work, Ulkesh. You and I are going up to C&C where you’ll hail the leaders of the First Ones’ ships who accompanied you here. You’ll tell them that from here on out, I’m calling the shots in this War, and then I’ll give everyone instructions. After that, a few of my best and most suicidally-inclined warriors will escort you back here to your ship, and you’ll get the hell off my Station! And if I never see you again in this life, Ulkesh, it’ll be too soon! Shall we?” Valen gestured extravagantly toward the door, then tossed the hood back over his head as he followed Ulkesh into the hall.

The ride in the transport tube was the most nightmarish of Marneer’s life. There they stood, the three of them, shoulder to shoulder to encounter suit, in a silent and uneasy détente. He couldn’t see Ulkesh, of course; his encounter suit was as impenetrable and expressionless as ever, and Valen was entirely hidden beneath his hooded brown coat, yet Marneer knew that the two were shooting mental daggers at one another. At one point Marneer got the strangest feeling that Ulkesh was trying to read his mind; it was as though a dark presence was poking around at the base of his neck, crawling up through his head from behind. He turned his head slightly towards the Vorlon and Valen saw it and barked; “he’s none of your concern – leave him alone,” as if he’d detected what was going on. Maybe Valen was a telepath now, Marneer thought to himself. He wouldn’t put anything past Valen.

Not a moment too soon, the lift stopped on their floor and the party walked down the hall and into C&C where they joined a roomful of stunned and awed Rangers. Marneer was again amazed to see the almost innumerable alien ships that surrounded Babylon 4. The scale of them was so vast that they dwarfed the six-mile long Station. There was one design that branched out from a enormous disk like a rainbow-colored tree with a giant eyeball on a stalk at its center; another was a stiff-armed, glowing golden jellyfish. There were dozens of ships of obvious Vorlon origin, all of them so advanced they made the newest, most high-tech Minbari cruiser look like a primitive children’s toy. Valen moved to the console in front of the main view screen, a veiled and wraith-like figure seemingly unfazed by the spectacle. He leaned forward, planting his fists against the console in front of him.

“Computer,” Valen whispered quietly at the computer; “this is Jeffrey Sinclair; please stand by for coded password phrase, translate from Adrinato,” he murmured. “Are all of our communications channels open, Rodann?” he asked aloud as he stood back up.
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” answered a technician in the pit.
“Good. Please pipe these proceedings through to all decks as well.” He turned away from the incredible sights outside the Station and faced the Rangers assembled in C&C. “To you of the Anla’shok, and to our new allies who have just arrived, I thank you for your service on behalf of all life. Our esteemed visitor from the Vorlon Empire has a few words to say to everyone, and then I’ll make a brief closing statement. Ulkesh Naranek?”

Everyone looked at the Vorlon Ambassador. His suit chimed and clicked and the square, head-like portion of his encounter suit rose into the air. Command and Control was bathed in a brilliant white light as a feathered angel with an impressive, spiked bone crest and a Minbari physique flew up and out of Ulkesh’s suit, accompanied by the dull, beating sound of his wings. Many of the Rangers genuflected at the sight. Marneer struggled against the impulse. Valen held his ground.

“Attend to Valen, the Entil'Zha,” the assembly heard, more inside their heads than with their ears. “He will lead us to Isil’zha – the future. He will lead us to victory.” He hovered briefly over Valen, then flew three times around the room, finally disappearing into his encounter suit.

After a suitably long pause, Valen spread his arms wide and began to speak, using each of the three Minbari languages in turn, beginning with the Worker dialect and moving from there to the Warrior and finally, Adrinato, the Religious Caste tongue. The forcefulness in Valen’s voice as he described his uncompromising objectives was tempered with sadness. He painted a fearsome picture of violence and yet it was clear he took no vengeful satisfaction from it.

“For many years now, the Shadows have terrorized the Galaxy, bringing slavery, destruction and death to all who stood in their way. They have fought us in space and on our worlds, never once having to risk the places they themselves most cherish. Until now, we’ve been on the defensive in this War, fighting to regain lost territory and to free planets struggling beneath the Shadows’ dark grip. Now that is about to change. A great war leader once said that to win a war one should ‘emerge from the void like a bolt from the blue and attack in unexpected quarters.’ And so we shall – together, we shall go where no army before us has dared to venture, to a place whose very name means death; the death of hope, the death of the future -- Z’ha’dum. Once there, we will utterly and completely destroy the Shadows’ ability to make war. We will lay waste to their homeworld and drive all who survive the battle into exile. And then we will go home.” Valen bowed his head grimly before continuing. “I won’t lie to you – many, if not most of us, will never return from Z’ha’dum. But with our blood, we will seal the promise of my prophecy – with our victory, we will guarantee a millennium of peace. Remember that, when darkness and storm and death surround us; remember that we are fighting not for conquest, not out of bloodlust, but for the orphaned and the widowed, for the safety of the families and worlds that we love. Through them, we’ll attain immortality.” He hesitated a moment before raising his voice to pronounce a final incantation in Adrinato. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.’”

“Password confirmed, jumpgate sequence initializing,” the computer announced. Outside the Station, an enormous jumpgate, the largest anyone aboard had ever seen, flowered suddenly out of the starry sky.
“Jump now,” Valen ordered, and the entire Station began to inch slowly under its own power towards the center of the jumpgate. C&C buzzed with the surprised voices of the Anla’shok.
“This Station can move?” Derann blurted out loudly, expressing the sheer surprise all of the Rangers felt, and the voice of Jeffrey Sinclair, so recently evoked, spoke with a touch of pride from Valen’s mouth.
“Pretty neat trick, isn’t it?”

The Station and the army arrayed around it shot into the neck of the jumpgate and emerged on the other side amidst the red glow of hyperspace. Valen returned to his agenda.

“Shai Alyt Derann -- take a team and escort Ulkesh Naranek back to his ship. I’m sure he’ll want to be there during the battle.”
“Yes, of course, Entil'Zha, it will be an honor.” Derann bowed, his hands in the triangular salute, and then hesitated, wanting to say something more to Valen but recognizing that neither the situation nor his leader’s cloaked appearance afforded him much opportunity. As he walked by Valen, pointing to a pair of Warrior Caste Rangers in the assembly and gesturing them to move to Ulkesh’s side, he murmured to him quickly; “Entil'Zha … in the garden … thank you for giving me something to chew over.” Did he mean the apple, Valen wondered, or my advise about finding a reason to live? Too tired to try to figure it out, he merely nodded to Derann noncommittally, then turned to Ulkesh, who stood waiting in the doorway.
“Thank you for bringing the reinforcements you promised,” he said, his words more for the benefit of his audience than in genuine appreciation to the Vorlon, the bitterness of betrayal having wounded him in a way the senseless violence of the Shadows never could. “I have no doubt that this alliance between the Older and Younger races, however temporary, will turn the tide against the Shadows.” He waited until the group filed out of C&C, then spoke to the most senior Ranger left on deck. “The computer has been programmed with our course and heading and the volunteers we sent out yesterday will be dispatching our other allies to Z’ha’dum. I’ll be in my quarters – alert me if there are any problems.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha.”
“Meanwhile, enjoy the show,” Valen concluded with a last glance at the thousands of ships clustered around them as they traveled through hyperspace. “Marneer?” he called, forcing his aide to tear himself away from the spectacle and to follow him into the hall.

They strode by a phalanx of curious Rangers, Valen still hiding all signs of his infirmity beneath his head-to-toe patterned coat. As soon as they entered a transport tube and the doors closed behind them, however, Valen slumped visibly against the wall.

“Valen?” Marneer began with concern.
“Just get me to my quarters,” Valen interrupted with finality.
“Blue sector, level three,” Marneer instructed the computer as Valen dropped his head back and rubbed his eyes.
“Valen?” Marneer asked again.
“Hmm?” Valen grunted sleepily.
“Those other ships out there, those other races … are we going to establish a dialogue with them? The things they must know in order to build those ships … they could teach us so much!” Valen nodded in solemn agreement.
“Yes, they could. But they won’t.” Valen straightened out his neck and Marneer caught a glimpse of his worn face before the hood fell forward again. “When Ulkesh was speaking Kosh was eavesdropping through me and I heard things the rest of you didn’t, things I was never intended to hear. The other First Ones are here for the fight because they believe as we do that the Shadows must be stopped. But that’s all. They don’t like the way the Shadows have interfered with the lives and development of the Younger races, but they don’t like the Vorlons’ involvement either. They … know things, Marneer,” he said, his simple words barely disguising the excitement he clearly felt over his brief discoveries. “Things they don’t believe we’re ready to know, secrets they don’t think we’re mature enough to handle. And given what I know about the future, given the conversations I’ve had lately and the unpleasant things I’ve learned about myself,” Valen continued with an almost despairing weariness, “I’m inclined to agree with them. When the War is over, we all part ways. That’s how it has to be.”
“Something else -- when you told Ulkesh you could use the Triluminary to read his mind … well, could you?”
“As I said, some things are best left mysteries, Marneer. Especially since Ulkesh could easily read your mind in order to get to my answer.” Marneer nodded, then swallowed hard.
“Well, just in case you’re reading my thoughts, I apologize,” he said. Valen pushed the cowl away from his face and leaned forward towards Marneer, his tired eyes puzzled, a frown on his lips.
“Whatever for?”
“For what I’m thinking.” Valen smiled sadly and clasped what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Marneer’s shoulder.
“You’re nervous – afraid you won’t make it back?” Marneer cast his eyes away and nodded again. “I don’t need to be a telepath to know that, Marneer, and you’ve no reason to apologize for it. Only a fool isn’t frightened by the specter of death. All a soldier can do is acknowledge that fact and act in spite of it, as I’m sure you will.”

The transport tube doors opened and the two men stepped into the hall. Valen tried to walk tall, to project confidence and authority to anyone they might pass en route to his quarters, but Marneer could tell that beneath his brave exterior, Valen was on the verge of complete collapse. A few steps more and they reached sanctuary. Valen stumbled through the living room and headed straight for his bed, not laying right down as Marneer expected, but retrieving the remains of Catherine’s Isil’zha from where he’d left it on the pillow.

“I still can’t believe I’ve lost her,” he whispered with undisguised grief. “Somehow I didn’t foresee that happening … I should have – everyone I’ve ever cared about has been taken away too soon,” he added bitterly. “Or else I’m forced to leave them. My father, Mitchell, Garibaldi, Jenimer, Delenn, Zathras, now Catherine. I don’t complain much, Marneer; hell, I try not to complain at all, but it really sucks.” Marneer pretended not to have heard Valen’s uncharacteristic lament as he tried to unknot and salvage some of the bedclothes.
“Take off your coat and get some sleep,” he fussed while Valen stared, dissolute, at the ruined brooch cradled in his hands. “How’s your head?”
“It feels like someone took a big piece of it off with a denn’bok,” Valen grumbled, foolishly touching his broken bone and reawakening the pain. “Who taught you to use a pike like that anyway?” he wondered, looking up from the Isil’zha for the first time.
“I studied with the only Minbari capable of teaching a farmer how to fight like a warrior,” Marneer smiled; “the Anla’shok Na.”
“Really?” Valen questioned sheepishly. “I’d forgotten. It’s been a while, hasn’t it – a long road?”
“Yes, it has, Entil'Zha,” Marneer agreed, snapping out the sheet. Valen began to carefully pull the shirt off over his head, quickly following the maneuver with a whispered series of curse words in five languages. Understanding three of them, Marneer grimaced sympathetically.
“Do you want more pain tabs?”
“No, no, just …” Valen waved his hand in irritation. “Just go away and let me sleep,” he ordered peevishly.
“Absolutely, Entil'Zha,” Marneer consented, bowing and backing away.
“One more thing,” Valen added, stopping him in the doorway, “thanks.” Marneer smiled and bowed again. Valen sighed, took another look at Catherine’s Isil’zha and turned out the lights.

Chapter Text

-52-

“Take shelter! Jhak’tot – Soul Hunters!” hollered a member of the small company of young Rangers who stormed into Valen’s house. The household staff stumbled out of their rooms and into the hallway.
“Surround his daughter,” one Ranger ordered; “we’ll protect Satai Catherine!” Half of the squadron rushed toward the master bedroom and ran into Mayan as she came the other way.
“Satai Catherine – where is she?”
“I don’t know! What’s going on?”
“Soul Hunters! One of their ships broke through planetary defense and were spotted en route to Tuzanor!”
“What? How?” A child wailed in the background. “Delenn!”
“Where is Valen’s wife?” another Ranger demanded, grabbing hold of Mayan after poking his head into the bedroom and finding it empty.
“I’m telling you; I don’t know,” Mayan balked in frustration as the household she normally handled so aptly whirled out of control around her.
“Everyone else is accounted for here!” announced another voice.
“Look! There it is!” cried a Ranger positioned at the front door. There was a wave of movement as everyone pressed into the opening for a glimpse of the strange, three-armed, bronze spaceship on the horizon.
“It's heading for the training camp!”
“No they’re not – it's hovering over the west quarter of the old city!”
“Why are they here? Whose soul did they come to steal?”
“Yes – who would they risk entering our orbit for?”
“Oh!” Mayan exclaimed with a horrible, growing awareness that swept through her with the cold winter wind. “In Valen’s Name … I think … what if it’s Catherine?”

Chapter Text

-52-

Valen sat up in the dark, his heavy sleep abruptly broken by an incoherent sense of foreboding. The living room light glowed faintly and reassuringly beyond the glass doors and the only sound was from his own racing heart. He couldn’t recall a single image from a single dream, hadn’t been paged on his link or heard Marneer calling his name. His mind was clearer than it had been in a week. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened. He threw back the covers, felt around in the dark for his boxers, pulled them on and padded over to the doors. Sliding them open, he saw Marneer asleep in his armchair in the half-light. He hated the thought of waking him for nothing – his aide, after all, had been nearly as busy as he, so he closed the doors quietly and retreated to his bed.

“Valen to C&C,” he whispered into his link, “please report.”
“C&C here, Entil'Zha. We’re proceeding according to plan. Two allied fleets have rendezvoused with us, so we know at least some of the volunteers made it through, made contact. No sign of the Shadows to report as yet.”
“Thank you. Valen out.”

He glanced at his chronometer – he’d been asleep for over ten hours. In as many hours again, they’d be fighting and killing and dying at Z’ha’dum. Was it a subconscious realization of that grim fact that had shook him from his sleep? Maybe. He thought about Marneer and his palpable fear of being among the many who would die in battle. “God, not Marneer,” he prayed, suddenly wishing that there was a way he could safeguard his young aide. He felt a bit guilty about that desire, for it was a leader’s heavy responsibility to order his subordinates to do things that could be fatal, and the only way to mitigate it was not to play favorites. Yet now, when he contemplated the possibility of Marneer dying, it struck him a little like having just lost Catherine. Marneer wasn’t just a soldier anymore, he was a friend, he was family. Damn. He shouldn’t have let that happen; shouldn’t have allowed anyone to get close to him.

“Lights – low,” Valen ordered the computer, then studied his surroundings. He dimly remembered scattering things around in a mad search for stims, but most of his frenzied withdrawal was lost to him – which was probably, he reflected, for
the better. One thing he hadn’t forgotten, so he grazed his fingers gently across his damaged crest and was relieved to find the cavity had hardened over and was no longer sensitive to the touch. He hadn’t been looking forward to going into battle with a gaping hole in his head. In the end, though, he was pretty lucky – he’d fully expected the equivalent of a beating -- or worse -- from Ulkesh.

Valen began collecting his clothing and other personal effects from the floor; brushing things off and meticulously organizing each piece as if readying the room for inspection. He fished a final garment from under his bed and out with it swept the chunk of bone missing from his crest and a few coin-sized fragments of shattered isil’zha stone. He bent down and picked them up, scarcely able to tell which rough, grey bits came from which source. The painfully clear image of Catherine reaching out to him flashed through his mind and he sat back on the bed, a lump welling up in his throat. Something bad had happened, all right, and there was plenty more still to come.

Valen stood up and walked into the bathroom, where he dropped the debris unceremoniously into the disposal. He tugged off his shorts and stepped into the shower, then stood there until a week’s worth of water rations ran out. Somehow, he still didn’t feel clean.

Another strange pang of apprehension struck him as he toweled off. He glanced up into the mirror and was shocked to see the silvery outline of a triangle etched upon his brow like the mark of Cain. He blinked, then rubbed at his forehead, but it was still there. Frowning in confusion, Valen leaned forward until his nose almost touched the mirror’s surface. The symbol was an inch and a half high; a metallic, pale blue-grey shape that seemed to be painted on his skin. Once again, he swiped at it with his fingers in a futile and instinctive attempt to erase the unexpected. He’d seen this thing before – a silver triangle on a Minbari face – but where? As the mark began to fade, he remembered – it was on Delenn’s forehead, in the Grey Council’s chambers, on the War Cruiser, at the Battle of The Line. But what exactly was it, how did it get on his head, what did it mean? What linked those moments, then and now, besides his own presence? He shivered slightly, certain of only one thing; it wasn’t a good omen.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and tried to discount the experience as he returned to the bedroom. He found his steamer wand in the closet and ironed out a spare uniform and his patterned coat, re-affixing the empty frame of Catherine’s brooch to the latter. He saw no point in concealing the stone’s absence from his men the way he had when it had been changing color. It was gone, she was gone. There was nothing more to say. He turned next to polishing his boots, giving them the kind of blinding shine he hadn’t bothered to impart on his footwear since graduating from the Academy. He got dressed, returned his towel to the bathroom and was in the process of remaking the bed with drum-tight hospital corners when his link beeped.

“Valen here.”
“Entil'Zha, this is C&C. We’re not sure if this means anything, but the Vorlons seem to be … maneuvering.”
“The Vorlons? Maneuvering? How?” Valen asked with a rising sense of alarm that he fought to keep out of his voice.
“Derann here, Entil'Zha,” a gruff voice cut in. “It was subtle at first; some of their larger ships seemed to be drifting off from the rest of the fleet. But in the last hour it’s become quite clear – all of their vessels are grouped together at the rear of the formation. I’ve tried hailing them, but there’s been no reply.” Valen clenched and unclenched his jaw.
“I’m on my way,” he assured them as he stalked to the door. Marneer sat up in alarm as Valen strode through the living room.
“Valen? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered, pausing momentarily in the doorway and gesturing to his aide to join him. In the transport tube he repeated the report he’d gotten from C&C. Marneer tilted his head oddly as he listened, studying Valen’s face. “It’s back, isn’t it?” Valen asked, observing Marneer’s body language and deducing what it meant. He pressed the fingers of his right hand against his forehead.
“What is it?” Marneer asked in awe. “Does it have to do with the Triluminary?”
“Yes …” Valen drawled as he considered the suggestion, “yes, I’ll bet it does. But I have no idea how or what it means.” He drew his hand away. “Is it still there?”
“It’s not so bright now – it seems to be fading. Valen, are you all right?” Marneer inquired nervously. Valen managed a smile.
“I’m fine, thank you, Marneer. Let’s find out what this is about.”
“Don’t you know? I thought … you told Ulkesh you’d seen the future – that you knew what was coming next?”
“Yes, well,” Valen half-smiled ruefully, “the short term future is a little hazier for me than the long term. I’ve seen the future,” he promised firmly, “but the details along the way, well, let’s just say they’ll be lost to history.” Marneer shot him another peculiar look.
“Valen, lately it occurs to me that you speak of the future as though it was a place you’ve visited,” he hazarded. Valen laughed nervously.
“You think so, old friend? You’re sure you didn’t take any blows to the head during our … discussion yesterday?”
“Maybe I did, because I seen to remember seeing how you’d look if you were Human like your wife,” Marneer retorted slyly. Valen bowed to him with his eyes.
“All right,” he conceded, “we’ll discuss this later. Come on.” They left the transport tube and hustled down the hall to C&C. “Any word yet, Derann?”
“No, Entil'Zha,” the Shai Alyt said, turning away from the console beneath the main view screen “Entil'Zha! What happened?” Derann exclaimed in surprise. Valen glanced at Marneer out of the corner of his eye and his aide shook his head slightly from side to side, indicating to him that it was his lopsided crest Derann was reacting to, not to a reappearance of the mysterious triangle.
“The Vorlons?” Valen prompted, choosing to avoid the question rather than lie about the answer.
“No response yet, Entil'Zha,” Derann replied quickly, trying not to stare. “Some of the other First Ones have been hailing us. Our translation units are unable to fully decode their languages, but from what we’ve been able to understand, they want to know what the Vorlons are doing.”
“They’re not the only ones,” Valen remarked dryly.
“Energy surge!” a Ranger called out from the pit. “Jump point opening!”
“Where?” Valen demanded. “Put it on screen.” A golden flower of light spiraled open in hyperspace. “What the hell …?”
“Jhak’tot!” Marneer breathed as a phalanx of ships emerged beside B4.
“Battle stations!” Derann cried.
“Belay that order!” Valen countermanded, swiveling back toward his lead officer. “This is only a group of Soul Hunters – they pose no real threat.”
“No threat? They steal souls,” Derann hissed angrily and the other Rangers all bobbed their heads in affirmation. “They would keep us from returning to the eternal Soul-Well after death – how more real a threat could there be?”
“I’m no happier to see them here than you are, Shai Alyt,” Valen assured him, relieved to learn from Derann’s angry words that the warrior did have a more vulnerable, spiritual side after all. “But I’m sure we can settle this without resorting to force – I’ve dealt with their kind before. Hail them for me.” After a brief delay, a wrinkled, round visage framed by brown rags filled the screen.
“Entil'Zha Valen,” the Soul Hunter greeted him with an almost familial tone in his voice, “It is a great honor…”
“How did you know we were here?” Valen demanded sternly.
“We sensed death was at hand – the death of many thousands – and we followed it to this floating mausoleum of yours. We mean no harm, Entil'Zha – we are simply here to join your fleet like these others,” the Soul Hunter continued. Valen scowled. “Floating mausoleum?” he thought; way to help build up my crew’s morale.
“Why? So you can scavenge the battlefield and rob the dead? Nothing doing. You’re not welcome here.”
“No,” conceded the Soul Hunter with a sigh, “we rarely are, and never by the Minbari. They do not understand.” A thin smile crossed his lips. “But you, Entil'Zha Valen; you have said that you are ‘not of Minbari.’ You understand that it’s better to choose life – in whatever form -- than to surrender to the void. You know that the body is just a shell but the soul can be eternal. And surely there are souls you would wish to enshrine rather than part with -- one soul in particular? We might be willing to assist you in such matters when the time comes.”
“How dare you?” Marneer exclaimed furiously, stepping forward. Valen lifted up a hand to hold him off.
“I’m not interested. Take your brothers and leave while you still can.”
“Are you certain, Entil'Zha?” the Soul Hunter pressed. “As rare and special as are those souls we choose to collect, it is even more rare for us to offer to share them with someone outside our Order. For The One, we would make an exception.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” Valen replied coldly, shifting his lower jaw forward. “Leave. This is your last warning.”
“Why don’t you speak to your Vorlon companions – they understand our mission? Ask their advice …”
“I don’t need their damned advice,” Valen swore, out of patience. “I’ve had enough of the Vorlons’ advise and opinions to last me two lifetimes!”
“Entil'Zha,” Derann interrupted in a whisper. Valen glanced at him, his eyes blazing, and Marneer signaled to a technician to cut off their connection with the Soul Hunters. “If the Anla’shok Na will permit me to point out the obvious, we’re almost in Shadow territory – if you let the Jhak’tot leave hyperspace, they may alert the Enemy to our presence. If we have to pursue them into normal space, we’ll certainly reveal ourselves too soon. Either way, we lose the element of surprise. We have to destroy them – now,” Derann insisted militantly.
“Or let them stay …” Valen mused reluctantly.
“Entil'Zha!” both Marneer and Derann protested in horror. Valen glanced around the room at the distressed expressions of his Rangers and sighed. For years he’d struggled to bring the Minbari together, to get them to put aside the false barriers of their caste system and start speaking the same language. In the end it seemed that animosity – whether toward the Shadows or this roving band of religious fanatics -- was the only thing they all could agree on. How disappointingly Human of them.
“I know how you feel about this; all of you,” he answered loudly enough for everyone in C&C to hear him, “but we cannot murder a group of people simply because their religious beliefs are different from our own. Shai Alyt Derann was correct when he first spoke – this is a religious problem; a spiritual challenge, not a military one. As repugnant as you may find their convictions, the Soul Hunters believe they’re on a holy quest, that they’ve been chosen to carry out a dangerous task for the good of the Universe, just as we believe about ourselves. Furthermore, we don’t know if what they claim to do is even possible, in which case, as Derann was again so wise as to point out, the only threat they pose is in their ability to warn the Shadows we’re coming. If they’ll agree to stay out of our way, morally as well as pragmatically, we have to do the same. Reopen that channel.” The Soul Hunter’s prune-like face popped back up on the screen. “Alright, you can stay,” Valen began. His voice lowered into a menacing whisper with his next words. “But on one condition. I must have your solemn vow that you will not pursue a single Minbari soul, or souls from any other race among my allies who have traditionally opposed your efforts. Take even one of them, and I swear I’ll hunt you down to the Rim and destroy your Order’s entire collection with my bare hands. Do I make myself clear?” The Soul Hunter nodded.
“Quite clear, Entil'Zha Valen. Thank you. We will obey your decree on this matter, however misguided it may be.”
“Valen out,” he snapped, folding his arms across his chest and staring out the window in dissatisfaction. “Open a channel to the Vorlons,” he ordered. “Ulkesh Naranek, this is Valen. We’ve been monitoring your activities and would like to know why your ships are regrouping. Ulkesh? Please reply.” An awkward silence greeted him and Valen scowled. He shouldn’t have gone out of his way to antagonize Ulkesh. “All right,” he thought to himself, hoping Kosh would pass along the message; “that’s enough; you’ve humiliated me in front of my crew by leaving me standing here, talking to myself. But we’ve got a war to fight together, a huge challenge just a few hours away, so come on and tell me what the hell is going on.” More silence. “Ulkesh? This is Valen; please reply.” Nothing. Valen rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed softly. “Call me if we get an answer, Derann; I’m going down to the Cobra bays to check in with the Starfury pilots.”
“Uh, one moment, Entil'Zha,” Derann said, intercepting him at the door. “Might I have a brief word with you, Entil'Zha – alone?” He glanced briefly and witheringly at Marneer, who’d already fallen in step behind Valen.
“All right,” Valen agreed, “in my office.” He exchanged a silent nod with Marneer, who dutifully drifted away. Valen and Derann continued down the hall.
“I tried to make an appointment to see you earlier, Entil'Zha, but your servant wouldn’t accommodate me …”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you refer to Anla’shok Marneer that way, Derann,” Valen warned as he sat down behind his big desk and poured himself a glass of water, “and I’d advise you not to do so again.” He looked up expectantly at the stiff-shouldered warrior. “So, Derann, what can I do for you?”
“About the invasion, Entil'Zha,” Derann began, his eyes locked onto the strange sight of Valen’s broken crest.
“Yes, Shai Alyt?” Valen stared back, reflecting on how much of his old self he could see in Derann. He’d been thinking about it on and off since their troubling conversation in the Core. Derann’s obsessive sense of duty; his blunt outspokenness even when he knew it would be better if he kept his mouth shut; and all of those emotions simmering just below his stony surface, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, there was more than a little Jeffrey Sinclair in Derann. If only Derann expressed any compassion for anyone, Valen thought, it would be easier to be sympathetic to him.
“I’d like to volunteer to lead the first squadron of fighters into battle at Z’ha’dum.” Damn, thought Valen, way too much Sinclair. He still remembered signing on for the suicide mission of all suicide missions – to hold The Line, no matter the cost -- with similar words and intensity.
“No.” Derann pretended not to have heard him.
“I’m highly qualified for the position, Entil'Zha. I was among the first Minbari trained to fly the Starfury, and excluding yourself, sir, I have the most military experience of any Ranger aboard this Station.”
“All good reasons why my answer has to be no. You’re overqualified. I can’t waste someone with your knowledge of command and tactics on a role that in the end is largely symbolic and probably fatal. I’ll need you here, maintaining order, advising me, not out there getting splashed in the first two minutes.”
“Valen, the things I said earlier … you were right in the garden; I’ll never fit into your plans for Minbar’s future. But I’m as loyal to you as any Ranger; I just ask that you allow me to express that loyalty in the only way I know how – in combat.” Valen tilted back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling and drawing in a deep breath before rising and wandering over to his window with its view of the Core.
“Derann, you and I both know that no decent leader would allow a senior officer to lead the fleet as you suggest,” Valen began, a distant look in his eyes. “No, the person you want to head up Alpha Squadron is someone young enough to be oblivious to the danger or idealistic enough not to care if he’s shot down. An outstanding pilot, a terrific sharpshooter, but most importantly of all,” Valen concluded, turning from the window to face Derann directly, “someone entirely expendable. You may meet the first four qualifications, but you do not meet the last, Shai Alyt.”
“Many times you’ve said that we’re all expendable, that only the mission matters …”
“That doesn’t mean we’re interchangeable. Our strength comes from our individual contributions to the whole. Each of us has something special to offer, a part to play that no one else can perform quite as well. You did an able job of leading and defending this Station in my absence. You know how to command in a crisis, how to delegate responsibility. That is what I will need you to do during the fight ahead.” Valen half-smiled at Derann’s strained expression. “Look, Derann, I don’t want to stay Station-side any more than you do. Why do you think I’m off on a last tour of the Cobra bays? That’s where I want to be too – strapped into my Starfury, going at it one-on-one with the Shadows, straining against the g-forces and so close to the heat of my guns I can feel it through my insulated gloves. But the simplicity of life as a fighter pilot is long behind me. We have to do what we have to do, Derann, not what we want to do.” Derann lowered his head and looked blankly at the floor. “I’m not saying this to punish you, Derann,” Valen added kindly, “I hope you understand that.”
“And if I were to say that it is the Calling of my Heart …”
“Then I’m truly sorry for you, but I can’t cooperate with someone who thinks his Calling is to die rather than to face the future. I’ve got enough weighing on my conscience already. As to the rest …we’re all put here by the Universe for a reason, Derann; there’s a place meant for us we’re each obliged to find and a task we’re intended to perform. There are no coincidences. Open your eyes and your Heart; keep looking. It may be where you’d least expect to find it. I know it was for me.” Derann nodded, though more grimly than Valen would have hoped.
“I have changed my mind about you again, Entil'Zha,” Derann began. Valen lifted his brows expectantly. “You are more a priest than a warrior after all.” Valen sighed sadly, knowing Derann didn’t intend that to be a compliment.
“Is there anything more, Derann?”
“No, Entil'Zha. Well, yes – what happened to your crest? Who dared to battle you? And when and why? Tell me their name and I will …”
“No battle -- I decided to let Marneer here use my head for target practice, isn’t that right, Marneer?” Valen smiled as his assistant appeared in the doorway.
“Yes, Valen,” Marneer agreed amiably. Derann looked back and forth at the two, uncertain what to make of their banter but sure he would never get a clear explanation of the facts. He bowed stiffly to Valen and left to return to his post in C&C. “What did he want?” Marneer asked, joining Valen at the window.
“It was personal – nothing you need concern yourself with.”
“If it was about destroying the Jhak’tot, for once I agree with Derann – I wish you hadn’t let them stay.” Marneer blurted out.
“So I gathered,” Valen observed dryly. “But I don’t understand the level of your hostility. It’s true that their obsession with death is a bit … unsettling, but what if they’re right and Minbari tradition is wrong? What if there is no reincarnation?” Marneer shot him a look. “Don’t look at me for proof,” Valen assured him hurriedly; “I wasn’t resurrected. I was reborn, but I never died. I was … transformed. The Soul Hunters are convinced they can preserve the soul; the wisdom and life experiences that make us who we are. If that’s true …” Valen turned back to the window and watched the central transport tube race away down the very center of the Core. “If I wasn’t Valen, wasn’t Entil'Zha, with the eyes of a thousand worlds upon me, if I was still that Human you saw earlier; Jeff Sinclair, well …”
“Don’t tell me that the Jhak’tot was right – that you’d actually consider doing such a thing?” Marneer protested, shifting his weight away from Valen.
“If it meant I could have saved Catherine’s soul, kept her with me … I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. I saw their machinery at work once – almost lost a dear friend to it … I saw something happen, saw something inside those globes. It may not be something our science can measure or explain, but I’ve seen it.”
“But Valen,” Marneer complained incredulously, “how could you even think of imprisoning someone you love?”
“Imprison?” Valen echoed, still staring out the window into the Core, a sad smile creeping to his lips. “Imprison Catherine? Not a chance. You couldn’t keep Catherine someplace she didn’t want to be, and you couldn’t make her leave if she wanted to stay. I know – I tried to send her back where we came from – she refused to go.”
“And where was that?” Marneer whispered with breathless curiosity. Valen turned and looked gravely into his eyes.
“I think you’ve already figured out the answer to that question, Marneer. It’s not so much ‘where’ as ‘when.’”
“But that’s not possible!”
“Maybe not, but it happened. Happens,” Valen corrected himself. He sighed as he considered what the experience had taught him. “The mistakes, Marneer; you still never see your own mistakes until after you make them.”
“Valen?” Marneer prompted.
“I should never have left Catherine alone when I did. Or have trusted that Kosh would protect her. Hell, if I hadn’t gotten her pregnant the second time around, she could have come here with us. No, wait; we still would’ve had Delenn to take care of …” Valen frowned to himself as he searched back, trying to fix the moment when it all went awry. “I shouldn’t have let her stay; that was my mistake. I should never have let her stay.”
“But Entil'Zha,” Marneer reminded gently, “you just explained how that decision wasn’t yours to make. If you will forgive me for saying so, in my own brief acquaintance with Satai Catherine … how can I say this … she was rather strong-willed,” he concluded carefully. Valen dropped his eyes and smiled sadly, nodding.
“You mean she was totally independent and stubborn as hell,” he mused fondly. “I loved that about her. And hated it too.” Valen sighed wistfully. “From the day we first met, Catherine Sakai drove me crazy. Even when we agreed on something we could turn it into an argument. But when we weren’t arguing …” he laughed as tears welled up in his eyes. “Love is nothing but trouble, Marneer,” he warned. “Don’t let the chance for that kind of trouble pass you by.”
“I will try to remember that should the opportunity arise.”
“Good. Come on,” Valen continued more brightly; “we’ve got a lot to do in the next few hours – let’s start by checking in on the fighter pilots.”

Chapter Text

-53-

Valen surveyed Cobra Bay Three with more than a little longing. From the overlook he could see the first dozen Starfuries lined up on the track, his own vividly decorated ship with the Triluminary design emblazoned on the upper wing sitting in the number one position. Another man would be taking it out in his stead, but the idea of suiting up and sliding into that familiar cockpit tempted him at least as much as it had Derann.

There was no telling if any of the Earth-built ships would survive the War, which meant he might be passing up his last opportunity to pilot a Starfury. As commander of Babylon 5 he’d never shied away from jumping into the thick of things, but as Entil'Zha and C.O. of Babylon 4 he realized that had been as self-indulgent as it was brave; both foolhardy and short-sighted. He was older now, and wiser. Still … it was tempting.

He stayed just long enough to pass along words of encouragement to the pilots and to announce which poor bastard would lead the invasion in his ship. The man he picked was a Warrior Caste Ranger, well-regarded by members of all three Castes, but in whom Valen saw very little of his old self. Very little except, as he’d explained indirectly to Derann, that the pilot was young, confident, skillful, and from a cold-hearted, military point of view, easily replaceable. Valen felt an angry wave of self-contempt as he made the analysis. It ran against his nature to be so calculating, to summarily discount the value of another person’s life. It reminded him of the other reason he’d been so quick to step into harm’s way on B5 – it was easier on his conscience.

Valen and Marneer stopped next at one of the main flight decks, where an assortment of small battleships from various allied worlds was fueling up. Valen watched the activity quietly from beneath the voluminous hood of his coat while Marneer rattled off information about the crew complement, firepower and maneuverability of each ship. Valen nodded distantly, then watched some more, and Marneer began to wonder if his attention was on something else. Finally, Valen spoke; dictating a launch order to commence as soon as they came out of hyperspace at Z’ha’dum. Then he fell back into silence. It was almost, Marneer thought, as though he was stalling; putting something off. Of course, he quickly reminded to himself, that was a presumptuous conclusion; not only because he was attributing such a petty intent to the Entil'Zha of all people, but because Valen’s stoic demeanor generally made it impossible for anyone to tell just what he was thinking – and that was when he wasn’t buried inside his coat. What Marneer didn’t realize as Valen stirred at last and led the way to the Central Corridor, where the ground troops were organizing for deployment, was how close he was to the truth. For of all the decisions Valen had made regarding the war, ordering the formation of those platoons had been the most gut-wrenching, and he wasn’t looking forward to facing them.

No one, or so Twenty-Third Century legends claimed, no one had ever made it down to the surface of Z’ha’dum and lived to tell about it. Even if that was an exaggeration told to build up the mythic power of the Shadows and in turn emphasize the magnitude of Valen’s ultimate triumph, he was certain casualties would be high. They always were when infantry was involved; whether it was the Earth year 1260 or 2260, it was one thing that never changed. Unfortunately, Valen was just as confident that his objectives could only be met through the use of a ground-based army. Chasing off or destroying all the Shadow ships wasn’t good enough; even the massive neutron bombing he had planned wouldn't assure him that the Shadows themselves were gone from Z’ha’dum. The Anla’shok was going to have to search the planet itself in order to guarantee that the enemy had been vanquished.

Further complicating the situation was the fact that while the battalion commanders were by and large Minbari, the rank and file was filled almost entirely by the aliens who had just joined the cause. Some of the alien races involved could see the Shadows without having to resort to the use of complicated, enhanced vision technology as the Minbari did – and that made them obvious assets to the search and destroy campaign. But just as critically, the ground was where Valen expected their lack of formal Ranger training would matter the least. It was another old military truism that an army grunt didn’t need much of an education – you gave him a gun, showed him how to use it, and sent him out with his fellows, en masse, to fend for themselves. Strategically, Valen knew he’d made the right decision, one that freed up his experienced followers for more sophisticated tasks in space. But ethically … He worried that the circumstances could easily be misconstrued – that the assignments might give the false impression that he considered his non-Minbari allies to be mere canon fodder. And appearances mattered. They mattered, he reflected bitterly, but in the end they weren’t quite as important as winning the War. The closer they got to endgame, the more Valen began to feel that being a good military tactician was incompatible with his sense of morality.

“Is something troubling you, Entil’Zha?” Marneer ventured tentatively as Valen’s pace slowed to a crawl.
“Hmm? What?”
“You seem … preoccupied. Is there anything I can do to …”
“No, no, nothing, Marneer,” Valen responded, snapping out of his reveries. “I was just thinking,” he continued, shaking his head to himself, “it may seem a strange thing for a warrior to say, but I was just realizing how much I hate war. This is a just war we’re fighting,” he added hastily, almost as though he needed to be reminded of that himself; “a war that must be fought, but still …” He laughed helplessly. “I hate it.” Marneer nodded in accord. “What’s worse, Marneer,” Valen continued, glad to have a confidante, “is that this is the easy part. It’s what comes next that worries me.”
“But, but,” Marneer leaned in closer, conspiratorially, “you said we’ll win. Don’t we?” A glimmer of doubt crept into his voice for the first time. Valen heard it and stopped walking, pushed the hood back from his face and looked directly into his aide’s eyes.
“Yes,” Valen assured him gravely. “Yes we do. But after that … Once the Shadows are vanquished, the Minbari become the most powerful race in the galaxy. Even before I brought this Station and its technology, Minbar was already centuries ahead of everyone but the First Ones. By War’s end, we’ll be unstoppable. There’ll be nothing standing between the Minbari and complete galactic conquest except for me.”
“The Vorlons, the other First Ones …”
“As I’ve said; after the War, we go our separate ways. They’ll have had their fill of fighting. I’m not so sure that will be the case for our Warrior Caste – are you?” They shared another long eye-to-eye and then resumed their walk. “I wonder about the example I’ve set,” Valen continued to muse, “and whether I’ve done enough. Whether the lessons I’ve tried to teach the Anla’shok about the use of force and protecting the peace have taken hold. I’ve made so many compromises to meet the exigencies of this damn War, I …” Valen’s link beeped, interrupting him. He punched at it evenly. “Valen here.” The reply was anything but routine.
“Our cruiser the Balain just joined the fleet,” Derann responded, his hurried words fraught with tension. “They’re firing on the Jhak’tot!”
“What? Didn’t you give them my instructions?”
“We didn’t get the chance, Entil’Zha – they arrived, then opened fire.” He didn’t say it, but Valen knew Derann was thinking “I told you so.”
“Hail them – order the Balain to stand down! I’m on my way!” He turned on his heels and ran to the nearest transport tube. “I will not have us dragged into a skirmish over this – not here, and not now!” He glanced at Marneer as the lift doors closed. “The Balain – that’s one of the Warrior Caste’s ships?” Marneer nodded in affirmation. A few ships in the far-flung corners of the galaxy had been fighting the Shadows since before Valen’s arrival, and some of those vessels had yet to return to homeworld. While the crews of those ships had been told that the Warrior Caste had ceded command to Valen, they themselves were not Rangers and their agendas were sometimes suspect. “Who’s the captain?”
“Alyt Zhagren of the Moon Shield Clan, I believe,” Marneer answered. “The Balain was one of our very first war cruisers. They’ve been gone a long time.”
“The Soul Hunters are returning fire!” Derann shouted through Valen’s link.
“Patch me through to the fleet – all ships, this is Valen; hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire!” He punched at the lift doors in frustration. “Come on, come on,“ he urged the transport to no effect. “Derann? Report.”
“The Balain and the Jhak’tot are continuing to exchange fire.”
“Damn.” The doors finally opened and Valen and Marneer raced the remaining distance to C&C.
“Are we through to the Balain?” Valen snapped as he entered the Observation Dome.
“Yes, Entil’Zha.”
“Put them on screen.” A frowning Minbari in black Warrior Caste garb confronted them.
“Alyt Zhagren?” Valen asked.

“The same. And you are this Valen we’ve been hearing so much about?”
“Yes. The Jhak’tot are under my protection. I order you to cease fire!”
“What kind of a Minbari would take sides with the Soul Hunters?” Zhagren asked incredulously.
“A Minbari not of Minbari,” Valen assured him fiercely. “And the one who is ordering you to stand down.”
“Entil’Zha,” a Ranger called out from the communications station, “the Jhak’tot insist they’re only firing in self-defense and want to know why you’re permitting this attack,” he reported, the words of accusation sticking in his throat as he repeated them.
“Zhagren, will you stand down?” Valen demanded. Instead of answering, the captain of the Balain logged off. “I guess I have my answer then,” Valen muttered to himself in disappointment. “Shai Alyt,” he snapped out loud, “a word with you?” Derann blanched but immediately made his way around the perimeter of the room to Valen’s side. In almost perfect counterpoint Marneer took an opposite route away. Valen bowed his head and leaned back into his cloak, forcing Derann to bend in toward him until they were almost crest-to-crest. “It appears that Alyt Zhagren does not recognize my authority,” he acknowledged matter-of-factly in a low voice. He fixed his chocolate brown eyes on Derann’s blue-grey orbs. “Will he listen to you, Shai Alyt?” Derann blinked back a full array of emotions – embarrassment for Valen, for what it had to have taken for him to acknowledge that the situation was out of his control; self-satisfaction that Valen had been forced to come to him for help where he had failed; and finally, chagrin at indulging in schadenfreude at the expense of The One.
“He is a Moon Shield. I am a Fire Wing – my rank would mean nothing to him,” Derann whispered back. “If Zhagren will not obey you, Entil’Zha, leader of the five Clans, the Grey Council and the Anla'shok, he certainly will not obey me.” Valen nodded gravely.
“Then that leaves me no choice,” Valen said, his frustration evident. “Fire up the defensive grid,” he ordered. “Lock onto the Balain!”
“You mean the Jhak’tot?” the weapons officer asked in confusion.
“No, the Balain!”
“Yes, yes sir.”
“Target their weapons array.”
“I’ll have to take our guns off-line …”

At that moment, one of the Soul Hunters’ ships exploded. C&C erupted in confused cries as the Rangers present were torn between instinctive pleasure at seeing some of the despised Jhak’tot eliminated and conscious dismay at the Balain’s blatant treason.

“Fire on the Balain!” Valen rasped. “Fire on them now!”
“But …” the weapons officer began.
“You heard the Entil’Zha,” Derann shouted furiously as he jumped into the pit and pushed the weapons officer aside, firing the Station’s guns himself. It wasn’t until the explosive charges were away that the reason for the gunner’s objection became clear. He’d been awaiting Valen’s authorization to take the guns off-line and hand-calibrate them; when Derann fired, the guns were still targeted more generally at the rogue ship. Now they could do nothing but watch, transfixed in horror as one of Minbar’s warships was blown apart by the Station’s own plasma guns. And somewhere, amidst the shrapnel and the broken bodies floating around the Balain’s shattered hull, lay Valen’s prophecy of peace; his promise that no Minbari would intentionally harm another for a thousand years to come.

“Dispatch rescue ships,” Valen murmured soberly, his voice cracking. He knew there was little chance of reaching anyone alive, but to not make the attempt was unthinkable. He turned away to the wall, recomposing himself, then rotated back to survey the room.

The Rangers all stood at their posts, shell-shocked and in utter silence; save for Marneer, who, with his face contorted in anger, was advancing on Derann and shouting.

“Valen decreed that Minbari not kill Minbari!” he hollered. “But that’s what you’ve done! You’re our senior War Officer – you knew what you were doing! You knew!”
“They were mutineers,” Derann cried back, slamming his fist down on the console in front of him. “It was they who rejected the words of the Entil’Zha, not I!”
“You knew Nettar hadn’t yet taken proper aim – that’s why you pushed him aside! You knew!” Both men reached for their denn’boks.
“That’s enough!” Valen roared, stepping in between the two. Marneer was closer to him and Valen grabbed his weapon away at the very instant it opened and hurled it to the floor. “That’s enough.” He glared at each of them in turn. “Put me through to the Jhak’tot,” he requested more quietly as he drew the hood of his coat back over his lacerated scalp and damaged bone crest. Grimly, he faced C&C’s transmitting camera. “I wish to offer my deepest regrets,” he began as one of the Soul Hunters popped into view on the screen. “Due to a tragic series of misunderstandings, one of your ships and one of ours have been accidentally destroyed. I hope,” he implored, swallowing hard, “that you will accept my assurance that I’ll take whatever action is necessary to prevent any future misfortunes.” The Soul Hunter bowed his head.
“Your word is your bond, Entil'Zha Valen,” the alien assured him. “If you say this was an accident, we accept it as such.” Rigidly, Valen nodded back.
“Understand this then as well. Once we arrive at our mutual destination, you’re on your own. If you stay away from our dying souls, we will do you no harm, as promised. But neither will we defend you against others who may have grievances with you. Our brief association has come at a very high, very painful price. It ends when we enter normal space around Z’ha’dum. Valen out.” His crew, including Marneer, looked away. As terrible as it had been to witness the destruction of the Balain, it was worse to see their leader forced to ask for forgiveness from a group of aliens they uniformly despised.

Derann climbed up the stairs from the pit, closed his open denn’bok and handing it to Valen, knelt in subjugation at his feet.

“Anla’shok Marneer was correct. I acted hastily and in doing so, subverted the intent of your orders. I …”
“Didn’t you hear me, Derann? This was an accident. Surely if even the Jhak’tot concur with that assessment you, my trusted aides, will do no less?”
“Yes, of course, Entil’Zha,” Marneer responded nervously. Unlike Derann, he’d never been on the wrong side of an argument with Valen before, and he didn’t like it. Quickly, he realigned himself toward Derann, who was still on his knees, and bowed to him formally. “I beg your forgiveness, Shai Alyt,” he said, with a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at Valen. “I, I don’t know what I was thinking. I had no right to question your loyalty or your actions. No right at all. It should have been obvious to me that Valen's prophecy was not in doubt. Please, in Valen’s Name, accept my apology?” Derann grimaced at him, then nodded curtly.

Valen uncovered his broken head, swept the hem of his coat to one side and knelt down beside Derann, gesturing to Marneer to join them. “Pray with me, gentlemen?” he asked. “In honor and memory of the sacrifices of the crew of the Balain? For all of us?” Before either could reply, Valen folded his hands together and launched into a translation from Latin to Adrinato. It wasn’t entirely accurate, given that the Minbari saw the godhead as being manifest throughout the universe, not as the Trinitarian God addressed in Saint Ignatius’ prayer, but Valen did his best. “Teach us, Universe, to serve thee as thou deservest; to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to toil and not to seek for rest, to labor and not ask for any reward save that of knowing that we do thy will.”

Chapter Text

-54-

“And so it begins,” Valen fretted silently to himself as he headed toward Medlab after reviewing the troops in the central corridor. It had been so easy to assume that the Minbari’s fabled ability to twist the truth into a convenient lie was something that had developed long after his time among them. So easy to believe that when Delenn spoke of a half-truth as being the worst kind of lie, she was quoting the teachings of Valen, but that when she and the Council practiced the art of deception, well, surely that had to have come from someplace, someone else. But now he knew exactly when and where and how that ugly tradition began, and with whom. With himself. It all began with Valen.

He’d hastily dismissed Marneer when he’d left Ops, sent him off on some contrived errand, because the thought of being alone with him was suddenly so uncomfortable. How could he face his aide after making him grovel for saying what they all knew was the truth? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t told a politically expedient lie before; hell, he’d done it plenty of times while commanding Babylon 5. It was the magnitude of this lie, and the crime it covered up; the precedent it set for the Minbari who hung on his every word, which troubled him. That, and the self-serving nature of it. “Everyone lies, Michael,” he remembered himself saying, “find out why he’s lying and the rest will take care of itself.” Why indeed. Because if word got out that Valen and one of his most trusted war leaders had intentionally destroyed a cruiser full of other Minbari, it would invalidate one of his most important “prophecies.” It would expose him as the spurious seer that he was and undermine everything he’d done since emerging from his Chrysalis. He couldn’t let that happen. So he lied, and lied big.

Despite his grief, in a perverse way he was almost relieved to know he’d never have to face Catherine’s opprobrium and he was doing his best to avoid Marneer’s. Only hours before, he’d confided in Marneer his deepest secrets; now the thought of being alone with his aide was mortifying. He couldn’t bare to face him after publicly berating him for saying aloud what they all suspected was the truth. So before he left C&C, he sent Marneer off on a quickly contrived errand and hoped they’d be deep in the fog of battle before they met again.

“Entil'Zha Valen,” his Chief Medical Officer greeted him with a reverent bow as he entered MedLab One. “Thank you for sending me so many volunteer medics,” she continued, gesturing at some of the aliens bustling around the room. “They will no doubt be of great use once …” her voice faded off and they both looked off blankly into the distance for a moment.
“Yes,” Valen replied, nodding vaguely. “I’d like to speak with you about that – in your office, Doctor?” he directed, leading the way there, away from the activity. Silently, each indicated for the other to sit. As he did so, Valen absently flipped the hood off from his face, prompting the doctor to hop back up and hurry around her desk to his side.
“Entil'Zha! You’ve been hurt!”
“It’s nothing, it’s immaterial,” Valen said in dismissal, eager to get his real business in MedLab over with. But it was not to be, as the doctor hovered around him, studying the disfiguring damage to Valen’s bone crest from different angles.
“This is extensive bone damage – how did this happen?” the doctor exclaimed as she fingered the exposed roots on Valen’s crest. “You must be in excruciating …”
“Ow!” Valen yelped, “Look, Branenn, I’m not here to discuss this inconsequential … leave it alone!” he cried in exasperation as he rose from his chair, swatting away the doctor’s hands as if they were some kind of extremely large, biting insects. “I’m fine. As long as no one pokes at it, I’m fine.”
“Sapphire beam treatments would help speed the regenerative process, resulting in stronger bone growth …”
“In a few short hours, Branenn, we’ll be at Z’ha’dum,” Valen reminded sharply, “at which point the insignificance of this injury will immediately become clear to you!” Branenn dropped her hands and Valen paced across the room, taken aback by the vehemence of his own protest. “We’ll be attacking the Great Enemy directly,” he resumed quietly, “in space, on the ground, possibly in this very Station. The carnage … tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands will fall. Maybe more. I can only say for certain that more will die than we’ll ever have a chance of saving. That is what I came here to discuss.”
“I understand, Entil'Zha,” Branenn said solemnly, sitting back down behind her desk. “I anticipated some of these grim facts. We’ve been collecting blood donations and cultivating tissue for transplant at a steady pace since your return, and my current plan is to dedicate MedLab Four as a morgue.”
“That probably won’t be enough space,” Valen muttered, almost to himself, “but it’s a start. Branenn, there will be no rear lines to evacuate the wounded to. Normal triage procedures will not serve our cause – we’ll be taxed almost at once for time, surgeons and resources. Those who come in here with the greatest chance of surviving given the least medical care; heal them. As to the rest …” Valen stood in front of the glass wall of the doctor’s office and watched the volunteers quickly organizing supplies and sterilizing equipment. “The rest we must make comfortable as best we can … and see to it they do not die alone.” He turned to catch the doctor’s reaction – one of shock, as he expected. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I thought it best to clarify that with you now. I’ll of course understand if you cannot in good conscience continue to oversee this facility given those restrictions, but if that is the case, I need to know now, so I can find someone else who will.”
“That, that will not be necessary, Entil'Zha,” Branenn managed, “we all understood it might come to this – we’re all Rangers after all. We live for The One, we die for The One.” Valen nodded sadly.
“I knew I could count on you, Branenn,” he said, offering up a crooked half-smile. “And Doctor, those rules must be applied to us all – myself included. Rank, seniority, sentiment – they’ll all have to take a back seat to the question of a patient’s viability. These are terrible orders I’m issuing, and the only way to lessen the horror of them is to make sure they’re applied in an even-handed fashion. Understood?”
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” the doctor answered, rising to her feet and clasping her hands together in the triangular salute.
“One last thing,” Valen added, covering back up his mangled head and pausing at the office door, “have a round-the-clock security detail assigned to restrict access to the pharmaceutical supply room to yourself and whomever you decide to designate on your staff.”
“Is there a problem, Entil'Zha?” Branenn asked with surprise, airing her first objection to Valen’s bleak commands. “Has something been taken? Did someone here …” Valen shook his head, swallowing hard.
“Far be it for me to slander anyone, Doctor. But in desperate times, men sometimes do incredibly foolish things. Better we do not tempt them.”
“I’ll see to it at once, Entil'Zha.”
“Good, then. And try to get some rest – we’re at Z minus five hours at this point, and it won’t be this quiet again until the War is over.”
“That is advice you might do well to take yourself, Valen,” Branenn suggested with a small smile.
“It’s on my list,” Valen retorted wryly as he took off from MedLab at a brisk pace. He had one more task to perform before he could take that break.

Valen liked to think he knew every inch of B4’s six miles as well as he’d known B5’s five, but the fact was he’d spent most of the last few years on Minbar and the crew had moved things around. So he was forced to make a silent concession and study the nearest map display to confirm the whereabouts of his next destination. He was en route, a good half-mile down the central corridor, when he heard an all-too-familiar voice calling him. With extreme reluctance, he stopped and turned to face the person he least wanted to deal with.

“Yes, Shai Alyt?”
“Forgive me for shouting for your attention, Entil'Zha,” Derann said as he sprinted over to Valen, “but I’ve just received word – we’ve rescued two men and one woman from the Balain!”
“I see,” Valen replied cautiously. “What’s their condition?”
“Minor wounds only – they were able to get to escape pods before …” Derann cleared his throat. “Before.”
“I presume Zhagren is not among them?”
“Surely not – I would have been told. I was on my way to meet the rescue vessels in the docking bay.” There was a long pause, as if Derann was expecting Valen to say something, and Valen was expecting to hear more from Derann. “What, Entil'Zha, what are we to do with them?” Valen gave the question a moment’s thought.
“If they will swear allegiance to me as Anla’shok Na and fight in my Name, assign them accordingly. If they will not … they can sit out the War in the brig.” Valen turned and started walking away, but Derann followed after him like a stray dog. Irritated, Valen paused and shot him a fierce look. “Is there something more, Derann?”
“Yes, Entil'Zha. I wanted to, I felt I should explain … about the Balain, I …” Valen had been hoping to avoid just this moment. He cut Derann off quickly.
“’There is a time for everything', Derann,” he said, quoting from Ecclesiastes, “’a time to keep silent and a time to speak.’ This is a time for silence. Indeed,” his voice turned low and vaguely threatening, “as far as the incident with the Balain is concerned, it will always be a time for your silence.”
“But I wanted you to know why …”
“Everyone already knows why,” Valen interrupted sharply, “it’s been explained. It was an accident. The Soul Hunter’s ship exploded, I reacted and you reacted. We didn’t realize the Station’s guns hadn’t been targeted properly. That is all there is to tell; that is how history will record it. You cannot fight history, Derann,” he added knowingly, “you cannot change what has already been done.” Derann looked down at the floor and the blocky toes of his black shoes.
“No, no, I suppose you are right about that, Entil’Zha.”
“Hmm,” Valen grunted. “Leave me now,” he ordered. “You’ll replace me in C&C in ten hours, after the battle has begun.” Derann bowed to him and Valen contemplated the Alyt’s down-turned, blue, horned head as sadness overcame him, and then he walked away.

A few minutes later, he reached the fabrication and repair shop he’d been looking for. He opened the door with his passkey and stepped inside, half-expecting to see the ghost of Zathras laboring within, but the room was empty. He took off his long coat and draped it over the back of a chair, then began poking around the shop. He soon had a small collection of possible materials piled up on the workbench, but rejected them all when he spied precisely what he wanted in a bin beneath a wall of tools. It was a small, concave piece of clear synthetic glass that he was fairly sure he could cut down to size without much difficulty. He cleared the bench back off, then carefully unclasped the remains of Catherine’s Isil’zha from his coat. He found a sheet of transparent paper to use as an overlay and traced the dimensions and contours of the setting where the stone had been, then adhered the transparency to the glass and began cutting. Who would have guessed, he thought to himself, that the skills he’d developed as a boy scratch-building scale models of his father’s fighter would be useful to him more than thirty years later for such a mournful purpose?

He moved next to a polishing machine, taking the rough edges off the glass and finding, somewhat to his own surprise, that despite the sad circumstances surrounding his project, he was enjoying the work. It had been a long, long time since he’d put his efforts into something with such immediate and tactile rewards. But he quickly grew sober again as he laid the piece down and reached into his pocket for the beribboned lock of Catherine’s hair. Valen sat down hard on the chair as he stared at it, trying yet again to wrap his mind around the idea that he would never see Catherine again.

“Computer, lock the door,” he croaked, then dropped his head into his hands and cried. He’d cried before; for Catherine, for their miscarried sons, for Delenn, for all the lives that had been and would be taken on account of his orders throughout the War, but until now, he’d never really wept for himself. Certain of his privacy, he sobbed long and hard, surprising himself with the depth of his own grief. At least, he tried to console himself, at least in some way he’d been there with her at the end, and she seemed to have recognized that. He thought about the courage and strength with which she’d died, and was ashamed when he compared Catherine’s deathbed composure to the terror he’d felt as he sped towards annihilation at the Battle of The Line. He hoped he’d be half as brave as she’d been when he reached Z’ha’dum.

Valen pulled himself upright and dropped his head back, surveying the metal ceiling as he blinked away the last of his tears. He wiped his eyes off with the palms of his hands, took a deep breath, and turned to finish his work at the bench. Slowly, gently, he untied the ribbon and curled its precious contents into the tiny glass bowl he’d cut. He set it aside, bent back the edges of the metal setting on the Isil’zha, then fitted the crystal dome inside and crimped down the gold. He smiled sadly to himself when he thought about what Catherine’s response to this Victorian creation would be – no doubt she’d mock him about it, the way she had his fondness for Tennyson; “what does it take to drag you into the Twenty-Third Century?”

“We find meaning where we can,” he whispered in recollection to the completed mourning brooch he held in his hands, then pinned it in place on his coat. He put the tools back where he found them, drew on his coat and pulled the hood over his head, unlocked the door and headed for the mess hall. En route, he stopped in at the nearest armory, where he exchanged his brown Ranger tunic for a heavy black Earth Force flack jacket. It felt so unfamiliar and confining – no wonder he’d been unable to convince the Minbari to take full advantage of the supplies they’d inherited. He stuffed a few extra PPG caps down the top of one of his boots; shadow-boxed a couple of quick moves with his denn’bok to limber up; then pulled back on his long coat, ready at last for a break.

It was always a strange experience when he ate at the mess. On B5, his senior officers never hesitated to invite themselves to his table. But here, the Minbari gave him the widest of berths whether he wanted it or not; bowing and scraping silently as they passed him, leaving him alone in the middle of the room with empty tables surrounding him as if he harbored some strange virus that thrived on casual conversation. After a few meals like that, he headed at once for a remote corner of the room and ate with his covered head down, thus sparing everyone else the apparent discomfort of acknowledging that the Entil'Zha had bodily needs like themselves. He wondered how Jesus had managed to make it a baker’s dozen at that final meal when his own disciples were so reluctant to break bread with him. Maybe it was the food. Note to Jeff, he thought; along with the coffee and chocolate, pack some matzoh and grape juice.

Tonight he welcomed the isolation and the chance it gave him to continue to brood over Catherine’s demise and the battle just ahead. He ate mechanically, surreptitiously surveying the room from under his hood and eavesdropping on his soldiers’ conversations. He’d found he could turn his seeming invisibility to his advantage, gaining details about crew readiness and morale that no one would give him directly. It seemed to him that there was a naïve excitement in the mess hall that night; clearly word about the Balain hadn’t spread throughout the Station yet, and his own repeated warnings about the ferocity of the impending battle hadn’t outweighed his other promise – that in the end, the Shadows would be vanquished. He wished he too could find comfort in that fact, but was grateful he’d been able to convey a sense of hope, even if it now eluded him.

“Entil'Zha?” Valen looked up in surprise and saw a Minbari Ranger he didn’t know standing beside his table. “I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion, Entil'Zha,” the man continued, accompanying his words with the deep bow-from-the-waist Valen had long since grown both accustomed to and tired of being met with.
“Yes,” Valen interrupted, setting down his fork and turning sideways in his chair to face his supplicant. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for my cousin? I’ve been told he’s in your employ? His name is Marneer? Marneer of the family Mir?” Valen’s eyes opened as wide as they could go.
“I, I’m sorry,” he stammered in a brief loss of composure, “would you mind repeating that?”
“I’m looking for my second cousin; Marneer of the family Mir?” So he had heard the Ranger right. Suddenly, the answers to some of his most anxious, private questions fell into place. Valen smiled with enlightenment.
“Yes, of course,” he said, rising from his seat, “Marneer is my aide-de-camp. He’s off-duty right now so I’m not positive where he is – in my quarters perhaps. If you’d like,” he raised the back of his left hand, where he wore his link, towards his mouth.
“No, no, that will not be necessary, Entil'Zha. I only wanted to know if it were true, if one of us had actually made it so far and so high … I would be deeply indebted if you would be so generous as to tell him that his cousin Toroon, Siblenn’s son, was very proud of him.”
“You can tell him yourself,” Valen said cheerfully, “where are you stationed? I’ll have him look you up later.”
“I am second gunner on the Duenor, Entil'Zha.”
“Oh,” Valen responded quietly. The Duenor was one of the military transports that would be taking ground troops down to Z’ha’dum. A likely suicide mission. “I see. Then it is I who am in your debt,” he assured Toroon gravely. “Are you certain that …”
“I think it’s best this way, Entil'Zha. Tell him only that I wish him well.” The Ranger bowed again. “I must rejoin my crew-mates. Entil'Zha veni! We live for The One, we die for The One.” Valen nodded back and stared regretfully after the messenger’s receding figure.

Marneer of Mir, he thought to himself. Satai Delenn of Mir. Delenn – his Delenn, one day of Mir? Of course; it all made sense to him now. He’d wondered about when his descendents had acquired that family name, but far more importantly, he’d wondered about the Minbari who would one day ask to marry his visibly alien daughter; about what Minbari he’d ever allow to marry his daughter. He knew there would have to be someone, because he knew with a certainty that while they were separated by nine hundred years of intervening generations, Delenn would give birth to Delenn. Delenn of Mir. So who could it be?

It would have to be someone he knew and trusted, someone who knew she was more Human than the others suspected, but for whom the discovery would be no surprise, no concern at all, because he’d never let Delenn be made to feel she was anything less than perfect the way she was. He was her father, after all. That was his job. The man he envisioned as Delenn’s future husband would have to be as willing and able to defend her as he was, or else he’d never let him near her in the first place! The men on The Grey Council knew about his Human origins, but none of them would do. Delenn was barely more than a babe and they were older than her by several score. But Marneer …true, he was already an adult, but just barely, and he was romantically unattached. Naturally, that situation could change in the next decade and a half. It could, Valen thought, but it wouldn’t. Especially not if he planted a subtle seed in the mind of the man he was now certain was his future son-in-law. A seed that might with time germinate into something greater. Automatically, he pressed at his link.

“Valen to Marneer.”
“Marneer here, Entil'Zha,” came back a voice; a little sleepily, Valen thought, his own interest in repose -- and in avoiding Marneer -- now gone.
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Marneer, but I need to speak to you at once. Can you meet me in the garden – below my office – in fifteen minutes?”
“But of course, Entil'Zha. If I may ask …”
“Yes you may, but not here, not now. Fifteen minutes. Valen out.”

Chapter Text

-55-

Valen did in fact doze off briefly as he sat on the grass with his shoulders against his office’s exterior wall, waiting for Marneer. Marneer arrived a few minutes late, out of breath and anxious about being summoned so abruptly. Had he erred again and displeased his master, this time with his absence, rather than with words? He looked down at the top of Valen’s draped head and nervously addressed him.

“Valen? You wished to speak to me?” Valen blinked his way back to consciousness, then rose to his feet and tossed the hood off from his head and onto his shoulders. He looked at Marneer with an unreadable expression.
“Why are you here, Marneer of Mir?” he inquired formally.
“You, you summoned me?”
“Why are you here?” Valen asked again.
“Oh,” Marneer twittered, catching on, “I am a Ranger. We walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no one may pass. We live for The One, we ...”
“Marneer,” Valen interjected, “I have had a revelation.” Taken aback, Marneer lifted his eyes and searched Valen’s face. “Would you like to know what I’ve seen?” Valen coaxed, a smile crossing his lips.
“I, I’m sure I am unworthy, Entil'Zha …” He saw irritation flicker across Valen’s face. “Unless you think otherwise, of course,” he added in reconsideration, dropping his eyes.
“I do indeed,” Valen assured him, pacing away a few steps, his hands clasped behind his back as he carefully considered his next words. “A while ago, you expressed to me a fear you’ve harbored. A common fear, an entirely reasonable fear, given the circumstances. But now I stand ready to ease your mind.” He re-approached his aide. “You will not die at Z’ha’dum. Far from it – you are destined to return to Minbar after the War and eventually marry and raise a family. Marneer?” he asked in concern as his aide turned white and wavered unsteadily on his feet. He reached out and caught Marneer by the elbow. “I thought this would be welcome news!” he exclaimed querulously.
“Oh, yes, Valen, yes! But I … how do you know this? I don’t understand …”
“Understanding is not required,” Valen chuckled, “only obedience. Live for The One. That’s an order.” He gave Marneer a moment to digest the information. “I should add, however, that this divination comes with a price.”
“As always, Entil'Zha, you need only to ask and I will obey.” Valen shook his head.
“No. I want you to promise me something, but I don’t want you to make that promise to the Entil'Zha or the Anla’shok Na, or to the Master of the Grey Council. Not even to Valen.” He glanced around to be certain they were alone. “I want you to promise something to Jeffrey Sinclair.” Marneer peered into his eyes and nodded. Valen resumed pacing. He’d never been good at composing important words while standing in place. If there was one thing he liked about the Inner Chamber of the Grey Council, it was that it was laid out in a big circle he could roam around. “Look, Marneer, I’m sure about you. I know that when it comes to my personal life my track record of predictions is kind of uneven but …” Valen rambled on as he parsed out a circle around Marneer.
“I’m not following you.” Valen smiled ruefully and shook his head.
“I’d be worried if you could. Look, you remember what I said at the StarFire Wheel? That the Humans, that Catherine, were the key to Minbar’s future? That we were entrusting the Minbari people with a priceless legacy?”
“I remember,” Marneer said softly. “Who could have seen you there, heard you then, and forgotten?” Abruptly violating Minbari conventions about personal space, Valen laid his hands on Marneer’s shoulders and gripped him hard. Marneer froze, both threatened and terrified as Valen forced him into prolonged eye contact with the gesture.
“Marneer, that legacy is our daughter. That legacy is Delenn. She’s not just all I have left of Catherine; she’s all Minbar has left of us. Of Sakai and Sinclair. I can’t go into details with you, but if anything untoward ever happened to her, if she doesn’t grow up into adulthood, have children of her own, everything collapses, Marneer, everything!” He squeezed Marneer even harder, then got his emotions back in check and released him. "Promise me, Marneer, promise that you’ll look after Delenn, that you’ll protect her life with your own! That if I’m not around long enough to explain it to her myself, that you’ll let her know who she is – who I was. Who I am.” Valen’s impassioned words brought Marneer almost to the verge of tears.
“You are Jeffrey Sinclair, a Human,” Marneer whispered, looking back on his own accord into Valen’s powerful eyes. “You came from the future to unite us and lead us to victory against the Shadows. I will make sure she knows; I promise.”
“Thank you, old friend. Then I am content.” Without ceremony, he sat back down on the ground, unzipping the restrictive neck of his flack jacket as he did so. After hesitating briefly, Marneer joined him. Valen picked up a pebble and rolled it around in his fingers absently.
“I’ll never forget,” Marneer began spontaneously and with a smile, “when she ran up to us on the steps of the Temple and handed me that isil’zha stone she found.” Valen peeked at him quickly from the corner of his eye, then pretended to be intent on the rock he held.
“Hmm,” he breathed noncommittally, his heart pounding.
“She was so excited, so proud. And it was quite a find, really.”
“She gets that talent from her mother,” Valen remarked, “she is, was,” he corrected himself, “a geologist.” He sighed, tossing away the stone with a flick of his wrist.
“It will be interesting to see who she becomes as she grows up,” Marneer offered sincerely. Valen resisted the urge to look at him again, instead fingering the ground for another pebble.
“Yes,” he mused, “if only Catherine were alive to watch with us.” Marneer bowed his head and Valen threw the second stone, then stifled a yawn.
“Valen, have you gotten any sleep lately?” Guiltily, Valen glanced at him.
“No,” he admitted sheepishly, “there’s been too much I’ve needed to do.” Marneer pointedly looked off at the fields overhead. “I know, I know,” Valen demurred.
“I didn’t say anything,” Marneer protested.
“You didn’t have to.” Valen looked over with a faint smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Entil'Zha!” Marneer declaimed. Valen laughed.
“All right, fine. I have to be in C&C soon, but I’ll take a nap first – right here, right now? Will that satisfy you?”
“Let me get out of your way,” Marneer said, returning to his feet and bowing to Valen. The latter nodded back, then reconsidered and called after him.
“Marneer?”
“Valen?”
“Please check with the officers aboard the transit ship Duenor for me? Make sure there isn’t anything they need?”
“Yes sir,” Marneer replied innocently, then hurried away.

Valen smiled to himself in self-satisfaction, yawned again and opened his flack jacket the rest of the way. He put his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles with a faint sigh. At least something had gone well for a change. He eyed the green stillness for a while, watched the central tram running overhead, then finally closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing down his breathing, having forgotten that once he reached a quiet, meditative spot deep inside himself, he wouldn’t be alone. He started to pull back when he saw the light waiting for him, but Kosh wouldn’t let him go, dragging him closer instead.

“We have nothing to say to one another now,” Valen protested.
“Incorrect.”
“All right, fine. I have nothing more I want to say to you. I need my rest; leave me alone.”
“No, not alone,” Kosh intoned, “you will need me.”
“The hell I will,” he insisted irritably. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things by myself, Kosh; it’s about time you Vorlons realized that.”
“You do not understand.”
“No, you do not understand. Hell, Ulkesh doesn’t want you here either,” Valen reminded, trying another tack.
“No,” Kosh acknowledged.
“He was furious to find you here,” Valen recalled, “and I guess that makes two of us.” He laughed bitterly. “That’s probably the only thing he and I will ever agree on.”
“Yes.” Valen frowned, uncertain if Kosh was making a feeble attempt at humor or simply stating a point of fact.
“What do you want? Oh right, ‘never ask that question.’ What do you want from me?” He shivered as he felt the silver triangle burning on his forehead again. “What the …”
“A decision. A warning,” Kosh said. “We will not jump with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rules. Prior agreements. We will not go to Z’ha’dum.”
“What?” Valen demanded incredulously. “This is my army, Kosh; I give the orders here and …”
“We will not, cannot, go to Z’ha’dum.”
“That’s mutiny!” he realized with horror. “I lead this fleet – I decide who goes where, and when, but the cause, the cause has been as much yours as mine … Ulkesh just brought the other First Ones! How could you?” he asked, almost incapable despite recent events, of believing what it seemed Kosh was saying.
“Rules. Agreements. But I will go with you.”
“You, damn it, you I want gone!” he hissed, angrily shaking himself free of Kosh’s grip on his mind and opening his eyes. “Valen to C&C!” he barked into his link.
“C&C here, Entil'Zha.”
“What’s our status?”
“Three more hours in hyperspace and we’ll be at the target.”
“What about the Vorlon ships?”
“No change in their position, Entil'Zha.”
“All right,” Valen said evenly, trying to mask his concern, “put the entire fleet on heightened alert – the closer we get, the greater the odds we’ll encounter enemy scouting and patrol ships. At the first sighting, detach a group of War Cruisers to pursue and destroy. We can’t let advance warning precede us. I’ll be along to Command and Control shortly. Valen out.” He frowned and grunted to himself in uncertainty and frustration, rubbing the mark on his forehead worriedly.

What the hell were the Vorlons up to? If they weren’t willing to fight the Shadows, why had they come this far and why they primed the Minbari to do it? Why spend centuries appearing to them in angelic form, tampering with their religious beliefs and their social order, giving them the keys to constructing organic machines; why for that matter, build the Chrysalis machine, transform him and send him back in time if they weren’t going to back him up? Why go through all that effort? Or was this “warning” from Kosh just some kind of a test? A last minute attempt to bring him under their complete control? He had half a mind to jump out of hyperspace then and there, just to see if Kosh was telling him the truth, but then he’d lose the all-important element of surprise against the Shadows. He’d never have another chance like this again.

What’s more, if he gave his fleet the order to retreat now, when they were so close, he doubted he’d be able to keep his multi-racial army together for a second attempt. They’d have every right to question his judgment and reject his leadership, just as he was repudiating Kosh. But how could he take them into battle when he didn’t know if the Vorlons were really planning to stay behind? And would the other First Ones leave as well? Unless … he thought again about those enormous Vorlon ships clumped together outside; dozens of them, hundreds of them. It didn’t make sense for Kosh and Ulkesh to have amassed that fleet just on his account when they knew he and the Anla’shok were already committed to the fight. True, he wouldn’t have planned this particular assault, but he’d already been fighting the Shadows for years, and Kosh had crept around in his mind long enough to know he had every intention of carrying on the fight for as long as it took. So if he assumed the Vorlons were at least being truthful about wanting the Shadows defeated, who else could their parade of armament be designed to impress? Who but the other First Ones?

He thought it out further. Anyone who showed up at Z’ha’dum alongside the Anla’shok would forever be marked as an enemy by the Shadows. And since by themselves, the Rangers could only hurt but not destroy the Shadow Army, anyone who followed the Vorlon’s treacherous lead once the first shots had been fired would only be guaranteeing quicker and more deadly Shadow reprisals against themselves. If they wanted to avoid that consequence, they’d have to stay and fight as planned. Everyone who jumped out at Z’ha’dum would be bound together, not only by a word of honor, but by blood and naked self-interest. As for the Vorlons, they’d be winners – unprincipled, perfidious winners, but winners nonetheless, either way. If things went awry they’d have their hands relatively clean as far as the Shadows were concerned, and if he succeeded in making history repeat itself, they’d have the victory they wanted without having to suffer a single personal loss. Valen shook his head in disgust and amazement at the craven logic of it all. He closed his eyes again and actively reached out to the Vorlon lurking in his mind. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when the image he received was of Kosh’s impenetrable encounter suit.

“That’s it, isn’t it, Kosh?” he asked accusingly, “I’ve got you all figured out now, haven’t I? War without risk, war without a price? That’s how you Vorlons planned this, isn’t it?” Silence. “Isn’t it?” Nothing. Kosh’s suit stared at him with that single electronic eye, unblinking, uncooperative. “You’re setting up the First Ones just like you set up me and Catherine, just waiting for the first chance you could take to betray us! Damn you Kosh, damn you …” In his mind’s eye, Valen imagined himself rushing Kosh, slamming into the front of his encounter suit with his right shoulder and pounding on the whirling sensors in the collar with his fists. After all, envisioning an attack had worked when Knight One had been in his mind with the cybernet. He didn’t count on what happened next.

In a sudden, brilliant flash, Kosh retaliated, striking Valen with a psychic blow that had real world impact. He found himself flung backwards against the wall of his office, where his already damaged bone crest smashed into the wall with a sickening crunch. The searing pain sent him back to the physical world, where blood was pouring from his nose. He brought his hands up quickly to his face, even as he heard Kosh’s response inside his head.

“We have nothing to say to one another,” the Vorlon echoed mockingly, “for now.”

Chapter Text

-56-

The Warrior Caste’s ships came streaking through Minbar’s atmosphere, their guns blazing as they pursued the Jhak’tot vessel. Sirens howled across the City of Sorrows, warning of the invasion, and in response Rangers-in-training and their instructors poured from their hilltop campus into town. They were joined in the streets by hundreds of Tuzanor’s inhabitants; some armed, some seeking better shelter, many just curious. All eyes were fixed on the skies when the Vorlon ship appeared.

The fighter pilots veered off abruptly, holding their fire for fear of striking the Vorlon ship, which moved quickly into position directly above the Soul Hunter’s craft. The yellow-green ship hovered in place as its petal-like wings began to close, then it slowly forced the Soul Hunter to land on a relatively flat rooftop near the center of the city. The on-lookers gasped and pointed at the house, which was surrounded by a tree-lined crystal wall, and Valen’s daughter Delenn clapped her hands gleefully at the spectacle.

“They’re at Daddy’s house,” she sang out in excitement, “visiting Zathras!”

Chapter Text

-57-

“Damn!” Valen muttered as he tried and failed to keep the blood that was running though his fingers from staining the voluminous sleeves of his coat. It was bad enough his face was a mess, but he hated letting Kosh ruin his uniform. He stood with one hand outstretched against the building and the other clasped to his head as he waited for the flow to clot. For lack of anything more appropriate, he tore some leaves off the tree beside him and blotted his nose with them. The pain in his bone crest and face throbbed in rhythm with his pulse, and he tried to remember if it had hurt as badly the first time he’d had his nose broken, during the Mars riots. With no helmet, no shield, he’d pushed through to the center of a growing mob in an ill-fated attempt to convince the ringleader to turn himself in peacefully, with predictable results. He’d been young and impulsive and stupid then, he thought as he eased himself down to the ground, and was old and impulsive and stupid now. He breathed a short and pleasureless laugh at his predicament. What the hell had he expected to accomplish this time? Tackling Kosh? With his mind? What an idiot, Jeff, really. The funny thing was, he was glad he did it.

He felt carefully along the bridge of his nose and winced; already it was puffing up like a balloon. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining away this injury when he next faced his crew. He wiped his bloodstained palms off on the ground, but instead of cleaning them off, little bits of grass and dirt and fine pebbles glued themselves to his sticky skin. Valen stared at his hands for a moment in wide-eyed dismay, then burst out in genuine laughter. It was all so ridiculous – there he was, the sage war leader Valen; the One Who Brings the Future, with a hundred thousand ships awaiting his command, just minutes away from the battle to end all battles, and he was sitting in the grass nursing a concussion and a deviated septum. Catherine would have loved the irony, as she did anything that cut him back down to Human size. Now, he could only laugh at himself for her. He rubbed his hands together, trying to get rid of the grime as he worked on an alibi.

If he explained to the Minbari what really happened, they might conclude -- perhaps rightly -- that he was insane, or worse; that he was an infidel bent on harming the angel Valeria. He could claim to them that he’d mortified his flesh as penance for destroying the Balain, but knowing the Minbari, he’d end up with a race of flagellants on his hands and he certainly didn’t want to be responsible for that. He couldn’t say he’d walked into a door because, well, the doors opened as you approached them and he’d never known one to fail. Cleaning his denn’bok? Who cleaned their denn’bok? Besides, the whole idea of telling another lie repulsed him. What he needed was something Zen and metaphysical; an answer that sounded like an answer but said nothing. Ovid maybe; “the cause is hidden, but the result is well known.” The Minbari seemed to love it when he said stuff like that, and fortunately the Jesuits had made him memorize a lot of Latin. And if they didn’t buy Ovid, he could always fall back on Taoist poetry. He hated to waste that though – it was such good material. Meanwhile, he needed to get to the washroom and clean up.

“I’m getting up,” Valen told himself, not moving at all. He closed his eyes, suddenly aware of the Station rotating around him and the impending doom ahead. More than anything, he wanted a good, stiff drink. Preferably Bourbon, but under the circumstances, he’d be thrilled to get his hands on Martian rotgut. Anything to take the edge off the pain, to blur the all-too-clear recognition of the Vorlons’ plans and the Shadows’ capabilities. Too bad Zathras had jettisoned all the liquor they found on board, knowing that alcohol induced homicidal psychosis in Minbari. He wondered if Zathras had known about the bottle of gin he’d found in Major Krantz’s office a few days before he entered the Chrysalis. He’d stashed it in his quarters and later that night, in his own private fashion, he sat down with it and got rip-roaringly drunk. He’d never been much of a drinker –a fighter pilot needed to keep a clear head – but the occasion, a one-man wake for the soon-to-be-departed Jeffrey Sinclair, seemed to call for complete intoxication. He’d started off decorously enough, enjoying a couple of shots as he listened for the last time to some of his favorite prose, but by the time the night was over he was sprawled out naked on his bed and drinking straight out of the bottle. It was not one of his finer moments. He’d paid for it the next morning too, when he was forced to endure Zathras’ incessant jabbering about this tool or that tool or never using some other tool that he argumentatively insisted he’d used to good effect all the time. And all the while his head felt like, well, like it did right now.

Valen ran the thumb side of his hand along his upper lip one more time, just to make sure he wasn’t still bleeding, then stumbled to his feet at last. With a sudden burst of concern, he checked the pocket inside his coat for the Triluminary. He took it out and stared at it, and it glowed for him as it did for no other, expressing a strange kind of pizeo-electric love. He stroked it lightly before putting it back carefully. If the Shadows managed to invade the Station, he’d need it.

Ritualistically, he lifted the hood of his coat up and over his bone crest, gave it an extra tug to pull it down in front of his face, then tried to walk as though he hadn’t just gone down for the count in one quick round against a Vorlon. Fortunately, no one challenged him in the hallway, and he avoided the busy transport tube by taking the back staircase up to his office. He slipped into the C.O.’s private bathroom, washed his face and hands and then surveyed the damage. No doubt about it, he looked terrible, but who would notice his swollen nose when there was a large, silver triangle shining distractingly on his forehead?

He couldn’t help but touch it again. It didn’t feel like anything – just skin – strangely pigmented skin that seemed to glow. His curiosity aroused, he turned out the light and tossed a hand towel to the floor to block any illumination from outside. He looked straight forward into the mirror, and yes, there it was – a perfect equilateral triangle glowing silvery-blue in the dark. He’d always wondered what had happened to the Triluminary he’d placed atop the Chrysalis machine. By the time he’d crawled out of his cocoon whole but halved; no longer the Human Sinclair, but not a Minbari male either, the device was gone. When he was finally healed enough to get up and look around, he found the two others still in his room, but the one that had served as the key to turning the machine on was missing. He should have asked Zathras about it, but there was so much else on his mind at the time that he didn't get around to it. But eyeing himself in the mirror now, Valen was beginning to think he had part of the answer. Maybe literally.

And what was it trying to tell him? Was it an omen of the Vorlons’ dark intentions? An indicator of the Shadows’ proximity? Some of both? As with so many things, he wasn’t sure; wasn’t sure he’d ever be sure. But the sign was there, and it wasn’t going away. With a sigh he ordered the lights back on, zipped up the neck of his flack jacket, straightened the Isil’zha frame with Catherine’s locks inside it against his chest, and prepared to address his fleet.

Chapter Text

-58-

As Valen approached the door to Command and Control, he ceased to be the archer the Vorlons demanded, no longer readying his weapon, planning, focusing, stretching, taking aim, but became the arrow, heading straight and sure toward the target, the dark center; Z’ha’dum. For this was it, he recognized in a flash, the moment he'd both anticipated and dreaded, the moment he'd suffered for, relinquished his humanity for, this was the beginning of the end for the Shadows. So when he strode into C&C he did so with relaxed confidence, and as he glanced around the room to see who was on duty, he was oblivious to the breathless expressions on his Rangers’ faces as they caught sight of his serene countenance and the strange sign on his brow.

“Alyt Ashan,” he said, nodding gently as he acknowledged the Minbari beside him as he took his place at the far end of the room.
“En, Entil’Zha Valen,” Ashan stammered, bowing and backing away. Valen carried on as if it were perfectly ordinary for a man with rays of light beaming from his head to come down to walk among the mortals.
“Time to jump?” Valen inquired, his rich voice seeming to reverberate even more deeply than usual.
“Seventeen minutes, Entil’Zha.” Valen turned to the window, where he caught a glimpse of the triangular token above and between his eyes reflected back at him in the glass. He smiled slightly, as if he’d just become privy to the punch line of a joke no one else in the room would understand.
“Well, good then.” He looked back over his shoulder at the others, then turned again to the window and the pulsing red glow of hyperspace. He let his eyes unfocus slightly and took in a long, full breath. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he needed to do for the next few minutes; the ships were ready, the weapons were ready, his Rangers were ready. The arrow left the bow and began a seventeen minute flight. Absently, he checked that his flack jacket was zipped right up to his chin, which it was, brushed out a wrinkle in the left shoulder of his patterned brown coat, folded his arms across his chest, and then just stood there silently, thinking of nothing. Minutes passed and gradually the Command staff stopped staring at their motionless leader and returned to their own business.

Barely a trace of concern registered on Valen’s face as a Ranger called out from behind him.

“Registering a disturbance in hyperspace! Shadow vessel!” Valen lowered his eyes to the tactical display below the window.
“Cruiser Hudoc, break formation; pursue and destroy,” he ordered.
“The Walkers of Sigma 957 are firing!”
“The Torvalus are firing!” At that, Valen leaned down for a closer look at the screen in front of him, catching only a glimpse of the Shadow ship’s signature before it blinked off the display.
“Shadow ship destroyed!” The room erupted in spontaneous shouts of joy. Valen knew he could quell them with a glance, but decided not to – it would never be that easy again; he may as well let them enjoy it.
“Cancel my orders to the Hudoc,” he said. “All ships, return to formation. Remain there until after we make the jump, then break and attack. Time to Z’ha’dum?”
“Three minutes, Entil’Zha.” Valen nodded to himself.
“Go to Red Alert, and put me through to the fleet.” He pulled himself up a little taller, squared his shoulders, and turned around to face the crew in C & C and the floating cameras that would broadcast his message to the many thousand ships under his command. In his youth it had been predicted he'd be Admiral one day. This, Valen thought, is that day.

The door to the Observation Dome swung up and open and Marneer hurried in, making a bee-line toward Valen until he noticed the cameras and stepped back. Valen saw him and winked; Marneer shook his head with a smile.

“All ships, this is Valen. There’s no need now for fancy speeches,” he began, underscoring his words by speaking in the simple syntax of the Warrior Caste language. “We all know why we’re here and what we came to do, so let’s do it. We’ll have the advantage when we first come out of hyperspace, but it won’t last, so hit them with everything you’ve got as soon as we enter normal space. Low atmospheric bombardment of Z'ha'dum with neutron bombs will begin the moment we enter normal space. Those ships not involved with the bombing will engage any and all Shadow vessels. In time, we'll go down to the planet and seek out their underground installations. Our mission isn’t complete until we drive the Shadows into exile and Z’ha’dum is a wasteland,” Valen ordered, all business even as his instructions chilled him to the bone. “Don’t worry about the Station – we can take care of ourselves.”

Valen started to look away, then hesitated for a moment, an odd, sly smile creeping across his lips, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, there’ll be one small change in plans – the Vorlons will stay behind in hyperspace to watch our backs and protect our reinforcements as they arrive.” Take that, he thought with a mixture of dark amusement and cold distain, knowing Kosh could hear him. You want to slip out on the battle, then I order you to do it! Maybe one day, the other First Ones will figure out what you were up to and repay you with the contempt you deserve, but either way, I won’t have you undermining me now, not with so much on the line.

“Many years ago, I first called upon the Minbari people. Now, I ask the same of each of you; follow me now – into fire, into darkness, into storm, into death – history awaits us. Jump,” he ordered the computer, “jump now!”
“Jump gate sequence initialized,” the machine responded.

The vortex burst open and Valen’s fleet streamed through it to the coordinates Zathras had given him years before; coordinates that lay just outside of Z’ha’dum’s orbit. Marneer, who had moved quickly to Valen’s side, gasped fearfully at the sight in front of them, and Valen looked quizzically from the planet to Marneer and back. For Z’ha’dum, a place whose name was spoken of in hushed and apprehensive whispers when it was spoken of at all, Z’ha’dum, homeworld of the darkest forces in the galaxy, Z’ha’dum, from whence it would be said that no one returned alive, was an unexceptional brown ball, speckled here and there by a scattering of city lights. To Valen, it seemed almost anticlimactic. To Marneer, it was the embodiment of Hell.

“I’m sorry,” Marneer apologized in an embarrassed whisper.
“Remember what I prophesied,” Valen murmured back. Marneer nodded back trustingly. “Of course,” he added in a fatherly tone, “it might help prophecy along if you’d put on some body armor.” Marneer shook his head and went to comply. Valen loudly pronounced new orders. “Alpha squadron, launch! Beta squadron, launch! Delta wing launch and stay to defend the station.” Moments later Valen’s Starfury, the one with the Triluminary painted on the top wing, flew into the foreground. “Close blast doors! Open fire!” There was a blaze of white light from a barrage of weapons’ fire before the protective shutters blocked out the view.

From that moment on, Command and Control filled with a cacophony of sound; of orders and replies, of damage reports and computer warnings, of shouts of exaltation and the cries of the dying, transmitted across the ether again and again. And at the center of it all was Valen, fully subsumed in his role as Ranger One, resolute and unflinching as he strode back and forth from the central computer to his console in the corner of Ops, somehow keeping track of it all, strategizing from minute to minute as a seemingly endless stream of gunfire was exchanged between the enemy and his fleet. And when that declaration was made again, in his Name; “Entil’Zha veni!” only Marneer, close beside him, caught the brief flicker of emotion in Valen’s dark eyes.

To say that Valen was in his element was almost to diminish him; the more frenzied the action inside and outside the Station, the more deliberate and focused his words and movements became. The men around him fought with an equal single-mindedness because Valen inspired it in them, because his quiet example demanded nothing less. Like the rest of them, Marneer watched Valen with awe; yet as the hours raced by he couldn’t help but think of the other side of the man he’d come to know so well. The side who cried inconsolably over his wife’s death; the man who begged him to take an oath to befriend and protect his young daughter, the one who forgot to eat and took drugs to evade sleep, who raged so fiercely at Ulkesh that even the Vorlon took a step back in fear. That man was full of flaws and emotions and history. The public Valen was someone else entirely; he was high priest and paladin, a messiah anointed by angels; a man without a caste, without a past, without limits.

How did he manage it, Marneer wondered, how did he keep everything mortal concealed and contained inside of the regal brown coat that marked him as Entil’Zha? Or did he? For the first time Marneer’s eyes settled upon Valen’s altered Isil’zha, recognizing at once what the strange dark threads at its center had to be. There it was, Marneer observed, Valen’s Humanity, bared on his chest for anyone to see. But they didn’t see it, he recognized as well, searching the faces around Ops. No one saw it but him.

The battle raged on for days on an unimaginable scale – tens of thousands of ships on each side, with fatalities to match. Valen made a better attempt to pace himself than he had before, switching off at regular intervals with Shai Alyt Derann and Alyts Ashan, Maynar and Rashok, but still he seemed ever-present as the days bled together, one into another; skirmishes, sorties, full on battles between the Shadows and the First Ones, the Shadows and the Minbari, Shadow agents against the Rangers; individual combat lasting only minutes before one side or the other was rousted and then replaced by another wave of ships. The screaming of the Shadow ships was so constant that after a while it almost became white noise, but the pronouncements of dying Anla'shok; “we live for The One, we die for The One” continued to register with Valen's crew no matter how many hundreds of times they were repeated. Replenishments would arrive, accompanied by Vorlon vessels which withdrew from normal space as quickly as they had appeared, and then the fighting would resume again, the space around Babylon 4 quickly filling with debris.

It was on the second day of combat that a Shadow breeching pod attached itself to the station itself, and Valen, Marneer, Derann and a contingent of Rangers in battle armor raced to Down Below to intercept them.

At first there was nothing to see but the red glow of the hull being burned away but then the Shadows themselves emerged from the hole, only faintly visible as they scuttled in the darkness. The only light was the one from the triangle on Valen's forehead. His forces fired back blindly at the Shadows until he drew the Triluminary from his coat and held it aloft, its mysterious light revealing in infrared the Shadows; grotesque and scaly, fearsome and malignant, jet black with six branching legs and seven terrifying pairs of glowing eyes in their vaguely triangular heads. More than one Ranger lost bladder control at the sight or staggered in pain from the sound of their horrible screeching. PPG fire blared from Ranger guns, largely ineffectual, while the Shadows seemed to kill their victims with nothing more than a cryptic, undulating light. In desperation, Valen handed Marneer the Triluminary, drew his denn'bok and rushed the loathsome visitors, striking fiercely at their carapaces with his staff. Derann brandished his own denn'bok and crying out: “Entil'Zha veni!” heedlessly joined Valen in hand-to-claw combat with the Shadows. The two of them launched blow after blow at the Great Enemy, dodging the light from its eyes as well as the PPG fire from their fellows, fighting beside one another as if they had done so for years. At last one of the Shadows shattered like a lobster shell and fell dead at Valen's feet and a cheer rose up from the Anla'shok – the Shadows could be defeated. The room was chaotic as other Rangers dove in following the Entil'Zha, the screams of Shadows and Minbari alike echoing in the hall. It took handfuls of Rangers fighting together with guns and den'boks against a single Shadow to defeat them, but emboldened by their first victory his men and women entered the maelstrom eagerly. No sooner had they defeated the first group of invaders then a call came over their links that another breeching pod had landed and the battlefield moved to another part of the station. Some of the pods contained the Shadow's minions instead, and those Valen left to other Rangers to defeat. But wherever the Shadows came aboard, he was there to meet them with the Triluminary and his pike.

In the last breached section the fighting was particularly fierce. Shadows surrounded Derann and Valen from all sides. Derann cried out, an inarticulate howl. Valen turned in time to see Derann scissored by a Shadow, his right arm neatly severed from his torso, his denn'bok clattering to the floor. The appendage landed at Valen's feet and blood from Derann's body sprayed everywhere as he fell to his knees, moaning despite his best efforts to remain stoic. Other Rangers pushed their way into the fight and Valen redoubled his efforts with a terrific cry.

Someone dragged Derann away from the fighting and propped him against a wall, and there the warrior lay, clutching the hole in his body where his shoulder had been, overwhelmed by the shock of being rendered incapable of fighting. The battle continued without him, other Rangers falling dead or wounded too as the Shadows fought back more ferociously than they had before, sensing that without their invisibility they were losing the battle. Marneer crawled over to Derann and tried to stop the arterial bleeding with the cloak he tore from his uniform.
“Leave me to die,” Derann demanded bitterly.
“No,” Marneer argued, “sit still.”
“Leave me!”
“No,” Marneer said, standing firm.
“I order you – let me die!”
“I am not, as you so often point out, Warrior Caste, Shai Alyt. I take orders from no one but The Entil'Zha,” he averred boldly, “and he would not forgive me if I didn't do everything I could to keep you alive,” Marneer insisted as Derann began to fade.
“But I'm … useless,” the warrior contended, pushing Marneer weakly with his remaining hand.
“That is for Valen to decide,” Marneer said, then turned to see Valen struggling to wrench his denn'bok out of a Shadows' grasping claws. “Entil'Zha!” he cried, thrusting the Triluminary into the gravely wounded man's hand. “Think of the light!” he instructed Derann quickly and impulsively ran to Valen's side, his denn'bok open.
“Marneer!” Valen exclaimed in surprise as he continued to swing his denn'bok. “Don't … test … prophecy!” he gasped out between blows, but he was in no position to refuse the assistance. Back to back the two men assaulted the Shadows until finally the latter fell beneath their combined attack. Valen bent over to catch his breath, exhausted from his hours of effort. Shattered pieces of Shadow husks and blood and body parts littered the ground and he observed them mournfully as the wounded were quickly whisked from the battlefield. The room again fell dark and quiet.
“That was ... unwise.” Valen panted as Marneer wheezed beside him. “But thank you. Any more?” he looked up and addressed the remaining Rangers still on their feet.
“Not here, Entil'Zha.”
“No more pods have been reported.”
“Derann?” Valen asked Marneer as medics rushed by with the wounded. A sudden realization dawned on Marneer.
“He has the Triluminary.” Valen did a double take and hurried from the room, Marneer at his heels. At the lift door they found Derann and the medics and Valen had to pry the device from Derann's clenched hand, which he held to tightly despite the fact that he was now unconscious.
“Will he make it?” Valen asked, hovering over the body and flashing back to that terrible New Year's Eve when Garibaldi lay dying.
“Unknown, Entil'Zha.”
“Go then!” he instructed, stepping back into the hall and out of the way. “Go!” He turned his attention to his link. “Valen to C&C.”
“C&C here, Entil'Zha.”
“We have eliminated the Shadows that were aboard. Status?”
“We've lost Capital Warships the Vec'tar, the Fanesh and the Brac'dor. Destroyers Ito'en, Hangen have also been shot up. Eleven survivors have been recovered.” Eleven out of seventeen thousand, Valen thought. “Infantry is suited up and transport ships are ready to launch upon your order, Entil'Zha.”
“I'll be in C&C in ten. Come on,” he addressed Marneer, as another transport tube arrived. “Medlab One,” he instructed the device.

Chapter Text

-59-

“Prognosis?” Valen asked the doctor as he looked down at his unconscious Shai Alyt.
“He'll live. We're on the eighth unit of blood but his condition has stabilized. I'm sorry though; if circumstances were different it would be a simple matter to reattach his arm, but ...”
“But you cannot spend that kind of time on any one patient,” Valen finished for her. “It is enough that he lives. Thank you.”
“He wanted to die,” Marneer said quietly. “He'll be furious.” Valen nodded.
“I don't doubt it,” he observed sadly. He glanced at the computer notepad in his hand. “We've lost over sixty thousand lives so far today,” Valen whispered, “nearly two hundred of those were fighting the Shadows aboard the Station.” Marneer turned pale at the numbers, unable to conceive of such magnitude, and it dawned on him what an understatement Valen's remark about his foolishness had been. Valen himself looked grim but determined. “I've got to go to Command and Control.”
“Shouldn't you rest first?” Marneer suggested as he looked over Valen's weary expression and his blood-stiffened cloak.
“Soon. I have to see what's happening out in space first. And with Derann incapacitated I'll need to select another XO. You don't have to come with me,” he offered, “go back to our quarters without me. And Marneer … don't do anything else that might result in my needing to replace you.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” Marneer answered, chastened.

Chapter Text

-61-

“Now is as good or bad a time as any,” Valen remarked as he witnessed the final aerial bombardment of Z'ha'dum. There had not been enough time or resources to craft the tens of thousands of infrared goggles the ground troops would need, so many in each platoon would be fighting blind. Valen knew this would result in even more massive casualties than his army had suffered before but there was no choice; the Shadows had to be driven from the planet itself and that could only be done by rooting out their lairs, bunkers and any underground cities directly. He ordered the ground assault and after carefully considering his options he named Rashok as acting Shai Alyt and turned C&C over to him. Now he could at last go off-duty. On his way to the mess hall he stopped off again at Medlab One.

Derann was semi-conscious and, as Marneer predicted, enraged at finding himself alive. The medical staff had had to restrain him to keep him from either disrupting the recovery room, or trying to kill himself.
“Let me … bleed to death!” Derann insisted as Valen approached the bed, “That damned … farmer ...”
“That's enough of that,” Valen instructed firmly, “you have not concluded your service to me, so watch your tongue!”
“But I am ... useless now, Entil'Zha, useless!” he gasped angrily.
“So you think. But I have not released you and you remain duty-bound to obey me.” Smiling faintly Valen sat down on the edge of Derann's bed. “There will be a critical mission for you to carry out for me when the shooting's all done, Derann,” he insisted benevolently. “One for which you are amply suited. So heal up and forget this nonsense about being useless.” He searched the Shai Alyt's face for a glimmer of hope.
“If you … insist, Entil ...Zha,” Derann sighed reluctantly, closing his eyes.
“I do. Now get some rest.”

Rest, Valen thought; I could do with some of that myself. Without the stims it was a struggle to keep going at the pace the War demanded from him, but that was a mistake he would not repeat. He stretched in the elevator, his entire body sore from the hours of personal combat he had engaged in that day and he wondered how much more he could take. Wondered it, but there was no question he would find a way. He checked his computer notepad. Five more ships lost. Another four thousand lives. If the Vorlons had stayed to fight would it have made a difference? Could he have ended this thing quicker?

He sat down to eat in the mess hall. Another five hundred casualties were tallied in the time it took him to get his food and sit down. It was endless, the scale of this war. And yet the thought of one particular loss outweighed them all. Grief is selfish, Valen thought, as Ranger Nukeen of the Religious Caste walked by his table.
“Nukeen.”
“Entil'Zha.” he said, stopping. Valen set down his fork.
“Nukeen, walk with me? I feel the need for some spiritual guidance.”
“Of course, Entil'Zha. But I can't imagine what I might possibly be able to teach to you.”
“Eschatology,” Valen said. “It occupies a great deal of my thought these days.” Nukeen nodded in understanding.
“Then I would be honored to tell you what I know.”

Chapter Text

-62-

Another day, another week went by much the same. Hundreds of jump points flared open and closed and space lit up with the explosion of yet more ships. Valen and his command staff rotated through their shifts, giving orders, receiving reports, noting the daily tally of the dead. The Shadows and their minions fought back viciously, but there were fewer and fewer of their ships in space, and some of them left the planet's surface without launching an attack, seemingly eager to get away unscathed. To his army's confusion, Valen ordered them to let some of the fleeing Shadows go, all the while muttering about unknown places like “Mars” and “Proxima.” The Station's MedLabs were full and patients like Derann, who normally would be kept for weeks or even longer for observation and rehabilitation were turned out to return to their quarters in order to make room for the freshly wounded. The Station ran out of coffins. Cremations burned around the clock. Funerals were nothing more than a listing of the recently deceased. Finally even rations had to be cut; no longer could refueling pilots from allied ships routinely eat in the canteen with Station personnel. And still the Vorlons sat in hyperspace, watching but doing nothing. Valen seemed more remote and cryptic than ever, spending entire shifts buried inside the hood of his brown coat, the bottom third of which was stained and shredded from his combat with the Shadows. Marneer often found him on a bench in the garden, where they'd sit in silence for hours instead of getting sleep. Marneer had begun lighting candles in honor of the dead. Dozens of waxy stumps littered the coffee table in Valen's quarters.

“Life,” Valen suddenly said, one day in the garden, “is a flash of lightning in a summer cloud.”
“Entil'Zha?”
“Something I read once.” As silence again overtook them, Marneer stole a glimpse of Valen's face. I would die for him if it would help, he realized to his own surprise. I'm not afraid of death any more. I want only to continue serving him, no matter the cost.
“Valen,” Marneer began. How could he begin to express what he felt? He couldn't.
“Marneer?”
“Nothing, Entil'Zha, nothing.”
“Hmm,” Valen murmured, returning his attention to a random spot about four feet in front of him and two feet off the ground. Marneer looked at him again. He's aged, he thought. And it's not just the broken nose and his other healing wounds, it's in and around his eyes, a weariness no amount of sleep could remove. It's in his voice, though it's as resonant as ever. And I, Marneer thought, I am no young farmer any more. I can never go back. This war has changed us irrevocably.
“Entil'Zha,” interrupted a voice beside them Valen looked up. Marneer wished he could send the intruder away.
“Yes, Alyt Ashan.”
“New damage reports for you, Entil'Zha.” Valen studied the proffered information impassively.
“Thank you, Alyt. Casualties?”
“Forty seven Rangers lost in Brown sector. 172 injured. The Cruiser Verzon was fired upon by fleeing Shadow vessels but they were pursued by First Ones. There are close to 2,000 dead on the Verzon. We are transporting the survivors to the Station now.”
“A flash of lightning,” Valen replied cryptically. “That will be all, Alyt,” he said rising reluctantly to his feet. “I'm going to C&C,” he told Marneer.
“I will come with you.” Valen nodded, somehow sadly, Marneer thought. They said nothing in the hall, nor in the transport tube, but the Station buzzed with activity around them.
“Status?” Valen asked as he entered C&C.
“No one has reported seeing any Shadow ships since the Verzon was attacked, Entil'Zha.” Alyt Rashok said with sheer awe in his voice.
“Additional ground troops are aboard transport ships waiting on your order to go down to the surface,” reported Alyt Ashan.
“Very good. Launch transports.”
“Launching transports.”
“The First Ones are pulling back,” Alyt Rashok said with alarm, “some of them are even leaving.”
“Let them,” Valen said, “we can finish this war ourselves.”

Chapter Text

Two months passed by while large platoons of ground troops searched underground for Shadows. Very few were found and dispatched; it seemed that nearly all of them had fled Z'ha'dum during the initial space battle. The most startling moment came when a battalion of Rangers discovered a seemingly endless shaft, miles deeper than any of their instruments could measure and too narrow for any exploratory craft. If there was anything or anyone down there, Valen's Anla'shok would not be the ones to find it.

The mood aboard the Station was wildly variable, with celebrations and mourning in equal measure; no one, including Valen himself, was sure how they were supposed to feel as the war wound down. The one constant was the increasing adoration of Valen, who grew more and more uncomfortable in equal and opposite measure. He found himself wanting to hide in his quarters when he'd rather be in the garden or the mess hall simply to avoid the discomfort he felt in public. But that was a luxury he could not allow himself.

“Transmission from beneath the planet's surface, Entil'Zha. It's fairly rough.”
“Put it on screen.” A staticky image of a Ranger in a space suit filled the viewer.
“Entil'Zha. Toroon of the Duenor here.” Valen shot a glance at Marneer, pleased to see him smiling. The image fluttered “... killed a dozen Shadows … encountered something ... strange down here, Entil'Zha.” More static interrupted the signal. “... other search crews as well, I'll step back so you can see ...” Stretching for several yards in an underground chamber stood row after row of what appeared to be freezer units. Toroon approached one and wiped off the ice from its surface with a gloved hand, and as he did so everyone in C&C rose to their feet as they stared in shock at the screen. Then they turned to Valen for explanation. Inside the cryo unit was an unknown alien with a somewhat rectangular head and long face, wing-like wrinkles beside his eyes and a pattern of red-bordered black spots all across his face and skull. A look of sheer horror was frozen on his face. On the sides of his temples were two metal balls attached to wires and some kind of metal.
“That's a Narn,” Valen said in surprised recognition. The Minbari of this time knew nothing of the Narn, but Valen knew from perusing the Book of G'Quan on Babylon 5 that their world had been a base of operations for the Shadows. “And those implants … I've seen those before ...” he remembered the adventure he and Sakai had right after departing B4 for Minbar; the insectoid ship, the hostile aliens and the experiments in vivisection that had haunted him for days. “Does every one of those units contain someone like this?”
“Different races are represented … don't recognize most … some allies … all have those things … head.”
“What does it mean, Entil'Zha?” Marneer asked Valen, speaking for everyone in the room.
“I'm not sure ...” Valen said thoughtfully, “it may be some kind of Shadow experiment.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, yes that must be it. The Shadows have been testing on these people, but for what?”
“More efficient ways of killing us?” Alyt Rashok offered. There was a thought in the back of Valen's mind that something was not right, that danger lay ahead, but he dismissed it. The last time he'd seen something like this he'd blown up the ship but he'd had a lot less resources at hand at the time and those few victims he'd seen were mutilated beyond healing. There might be hope for these people, however, and he couldn't imagine leaving so many innocents to die alone on Z'ha'dum. This was a war about liberation for everyone. “Toroon, can those units be moved?”
“It appears so, Entil ...”
“Can you make room in your transport ship to bring them back to the Station?”
“Yes, Entil'Z … could use … other ships help.”
“Alright. Finish up your search of the area and do so,” he instructed.
“Additional search parties are calling in, Entil'Zha; several seem to have made similar findings,” his communications officer said. The ominous voice in Valen's head became louder. It was, he realized, not his own. It was Kosh.
“No one returns from Z'ha'dum,” the Vorlon warned, and Valen remembered Delenn saying the same thing. Irked, he tried to tune Kosh out.
“Instruct the landing parties to take aboard these cryogenic devices and bring them back to the Station; we'll have full medical teams meet them upon return to base.”
“Reconsider,” demanded Kosh's voice. “No one returns from ...”
“From Z'ha'dum. Got it. You want me to leave all these people to die, just like you did Catherine!” Valen replied silently. “You don't give a damn about any of us, just about your hatred of the Shadows. Well I'll be damned if I play along with you this time, Kosh. I've got this war wrapped up and I've done it without you, so you have no right to tell me what to do now!”
“Obey!”
“Or what? What are you going to do, Kosh, kill me? Because that's what it's going to take to get me to follow any more of your instructions. Good luck holding the Minbari together if I'm gone.” Kosh fell silent and Valen allowed himself a small smile.
“Entil'Zha, another incoming message, this one from the surface.”
“Go ahead.”
“Entil'Zha! I am Ranger Berdenn of the transport ship T'Shar. We've just completed our search of this region and have found no sign of any remaining Shadows.”
“Good, Berdenn. Did you come across anything unusual down there?”
“No, Entil'Zha.”
“Can you connect up with the Duenor? They have some cargo they may need help transporting.”
“Yes, Entil'Zha.”
“What now, Entil'Zha?” Rashook queried.
“Now we we wait for the search teams to mop up, return to their ships and then come back to base,” Valen smiled. For the first time in months, his crew visibly relaxed. It looked like they had indeed finally won the Shadow War and lived to tell about it. The impossible had been made possible. Prophecy became history.

Valen was off-duty and back in his quarters, half asleep on the couch with Marneer also dozing in a neighboring chair when a message came through on his link.
“Entil'Zha! We're receiving an emergency transmission from the Duenor.”
“Put it through on my viewer.”
“ … don't know how it happened but our course has been reset and when we went to investigate we found this --” The Ranger stepped aside so they could see a massive assemblage of wires, conduit and electrical componentry that filled virtually the entire room he was in. The face of the previously frozen Narn was just barely visible at the center. Occasional golden sparks flew into the air.
“What the ...”
“We had no way to plug in all the units so we moved them to the computer room to keep them cool -- it must have been warm enough to defrost them! We have no idea how but it's gained complete control -- our navigation system, engines, weaponry, everything! We tried attacking it and it fired back with some kind of powerful electrical discharge – we can't regain control of our ship!” The Ranger cried desperately.
“Current course?” Valen demanded.
“Right now it's set on a collision course with the Station,” Alyt Benar warned “At present speed it'll strike us in ten minutes!”
“On my way!” Valen said, grabbing what was left of his coat and racing to the door with Marneer close behind.
“Other ships are calling in, Entil'Zha,” Alyt Benar reported as Valen entered C&C. “Every one of them that took aboard a cryo until is reporting the same problem – the people from those units have taken control of their ship!”
“How many are we talking about?”
“Six, Entil'Zha.”
“Crew complement?”
“Ten, twelve thousand each.” Valen exchanged a quick glance with Marneer as they each did the math.
“Where are the other ships headed?”
“They're all coming this way!”
“If even one of them hits us it could take out half the station,” Valen observed aloud. “There's got to be something … can we send Delta wing to target their engines?” Benar looked away in embarrassment.
“There's a design flaw in the transports … we'd breech the hull and kill ...”
“And kill the crew,” Valen finished in sudden dismay. No one needed to carry that thought any further – “Minbari don't kill Minbari” and he couldn't explain away a deliberate act as an “accident” as he had with the Belain.
“Can we jump?”
“The transports are too close – they'd be pulled along with us into the vortex.”
“How many people can we evacuate in eight minutes?”
“A few hundred? Maybe a thousand?”

“There's got to be a way, there has to be something I can do,” Valen thought furiously. But his mind was blank of everything except a single thought: “no one who sets foot on Z'ha'dum has ever returned.”

“Brace for impact,” Valen ordered for lack of anything else to say. As if it would make a speck of difference. But he couldn't do it; “How,” he thought “can I fire on our own ships? How can I kill seventy two thousand Minbari?”
“Observe,” Kosh answered him.
“Jump point opening!” A blue flower tore through space and out of it burst a Vorlon heavy cruiser.
“No!” Valen shouted, but the matter was not up for debate. Massive weapons fire erupted from the Vorlon ship, vaporizing one transport vessel after another. Valen slumped against the railing in horror. Marneer fell to his knees calling out his cousin's name. The rest of the crew in C&C wailed in agony. “A flash of lightning,” Valen kept whispering to himself numbly. “A flash of lightning.”

Chapter Text

“It will take me but a minute to set up my equipment,” the Soul Hunter said to Kosh. “Can you keep her alive that long?”
“She is not for you.”
“We had an agreement.”
“A change in plans. A test has been passed.”
“Do you have any idea, Vorlon, what a risk I took in coming here?”
“Irrelevant.”
“The Minbari will kill me! My collection, my valuable collection, will be lost!” Kosh simply stood there, Sakai's blood beginning to wick its way up the fabric that surrounded his encounter suit. “At least help me get off Minbar – they're fanatics!”
“Irrelevant,” repeated Kosh as the first group of Minbari entered the house.
“No!” cried the Soul Hunter, looking desperately for an escape route and finding none.

The battle between the unarmed and unprepared Jhak'tot and a handful of Minbari Warriors didn't last long, and a soul was lost. That soul, however, was not Catherine Sakai's.

Chapter Text

As composed and professional on the surface as he had ever been, Valen gathered together the remains of his vast army and began the long trip home. He could often be found in the garden, where he spoke with any and all suppliants. And while they were strange, one-sided conversations, with Valen replying in one or two sentences or even one or two words, no one could say that there was anything actually different with the Valen after the War as with the one before.

Marneer could feel it though, despite the fact that he couldn't put his finger on just what it was. Was he stiffer? Well no, Valen had always moved with a solemn dignity. More prone to long silences? No, Valen had always been a deep thinker. More self-effacing? No, he was always modest and reserved, a reluctant hero. But there was a wall there now, one Marneer couldn't breech, and its presence hurt worse than the senseless death of his cousin. Where he had once felt almost like an adopted son, now Marneer wondered if he would have to return to his farm after all. For even when word finally reached them that Valen had a wife and three infant sons waiting for him back home, Valen had barely reacted; turning his head away and wiping one eye as if he had a lash stuck in it.

One day's travel away from Minbar, Valen sent for Derann and asked him to walk in the apple orchard with him. Derann too seemed a different man, but more overtly, as if his bombast and arrogance had been located in his amputated arm.
“I told you I had a mission for you Derann, and it's almost time for you to carry it out.”
“Entil'Zha?”
“For all our losses, Derann, Minbar has come out of this War far stronger than when it went in. Not only the Warrior Caste but our priests and workers too are battle-tested and ready for any military challenge that might come their way. We will return as conquering heroes and soon enough there will be calls for empire and glory. With no Shadows to stop us, we could subjugate nearly any of the other races. This cannot be allowed to happen. I will not allow it to happen. The priests must return to their temples, the workers to their jobs. The Anla'shok shall remain an institution but their function will evolve from fighting to watching.” Derann looked at him expectantly. “I do not think you will like this new Minbar, Derann. It will be a quiet and subdued age with no place for military spectacle or angry disputes. The Warrior Caste will busy itself with training and a hundred new rituals but there will be no combat for a thousand years. We will turn in on ourselves, become a more reflective and isolated society. The key to all of this is that this Station and its technology cannot remain in Minbari hands.”
“Just what do you propose we do with it, Entil'Zha?”
“Tomorrow we will arrive at Minbar and the Anla'shok will begin to evacuate the Station for the planet below. It'll take some time to evacuate all four hundred thousand people. While that is taking place, however, we will replenish food and medical supplies on board. This task will require a skeleton crew – enough people to maintain what is left of the station and do the resupply and enough people to support that team. Say perhaps a thousand men at most. Fewer if we can manage. And then one day, when the remainder of the Rangers have left, the Station will make a final series of jumps to a location only I will know.” Valen stopped walking and looked Derann directly in the eye. “Neither it nor its crew will ever be seen again.”
“I … understand, Entil'Zha. This is a great honor you would do me, to ask me to participate in this task.” Derann said.
“You will not participate, Shai Alyt, you will lead it.”
“The greatest of honors indeed, Entil'Zha. I will not disappoint you.” Derann said gravely and formally saluting Valen in the Warrior Caste style.
“I'm counting on it,” Valen said, plucking a low-hanging apple from a tree.
“I suppose in time I will come to like those,” Derann mused, looking at the fruit.
“One hopes,” Valen said with a small smile. “I know I will miss them. Assemble your crew,” he instructed, “I have other matters to attend to.”

Chapter Text

Valen was recording a message when Marneer entered Valen's quarters at his request. It was the first time Marneer had been there since the transporter incident.

“... it's been a good life … lives … overall. Delenn, Susan, Michael if any of you see this somehow … don't cry for me. For in the final analysis, I've always been too hard on myself. I'll be content to let history judge me, and all that has been done in Valen's name. And as for me … I've received my own reward, because I've found her. At long last, I've found her.”
“I, I can come back later if this is not a convenient time, Entil'Zha.” Valen gave him a look, surprised by his formality.
“No, Marneer, right now is fine. Take a seat. I'm afraid I've been distant from you in the last few days, Marneer, but I've been so overcome and so embarrassed by my great fortune in Catherine being alive when so many hundreds of thousands have died, I haven't known how to handle it.” Marneer sighed in relief. The passion he had earlier seen in Valen was no illusion then. “But it occurred to me earlier today that I might have led you to believe I had no longer had any use for the things we have shared.”
“I, I did wonder, Valen,” Marneer admitted.
“It may be that you will not see that other side of me much, Marneer,” Valen warned, “there are new tasks ahead of me, a new role which I shall have to play. For all eyes are upon me now, Marneer, millions more than even during the War. They will record my every word, scrutinize my every action, analyze the expression on my face. What they draw from it all will determine whether or not they follow me in peacetime as they did at war. It is, I admit, a heavy burden.” Valen leaned forward in his chair. “Are you looking forward to returning to your farm, Marneer?”
“I, I suppose so,” Marneer replied uncertainly.
“Because I will need an assistant in the coming years. Catherine will want to do it, but with four children to take care of, I doubt that she'll be able to find the time for several years. Whoever takes that job will be as much in the spotlight as myself, I'm afraid. They too will have to separate their life into two very isolated realms: the public and the private. I imagine most people would not be willing to make the sacrifice.”
“It would be no sacrifice to spend my life at your side, Valen,” Marneer smiled. “And it will be much more enjoyable than agriculture,” he added with a laugh.
“Well good then. Now, if you wouldn't mind helping me suit up, there's something I want to do one last time.”

Chapter Text

There were three undamaged Starfuries left, and being non-atmospheric craft, they would remain and decay with the Station itself. Miraculously, one of them was Valen's own Triluminary emblazoned craft. He felt especially emotional as he slipped inside the cockpit and checked over the controls.

“Command and Control, I'm ready to launch.”
“This is C&C. You are cleared for launch, Alpha leader.” The Starfury slid along the loading tracks to the launching bay, then dropped out of Babylon 4 with a mechanical clunk. Valen took the 'fury on a tour around the Station, noting for the last time just how badly damaged it was. And yet there was still enough unexplored technology aboard that the Minbari could reverse-engineer and use to advance them far beyond their current capabilities. Better that knowledge was lost, Valen thought, or the Battle of the Line would be even shorter. He might not get the chance to ram the Cruiser.

Three times he flew along and around the length and breadth of the Station, each time performing more and more complicated maneuvers until he finally ran out of ideas. He was sure he'd fly something again but never, he knew, could he recapture his days as a Starfury pilot.
“Returning to base,” he intoned reluctantly with a crack in his voice.
“Confirmed Alpha leader, you're cleared for docking in Bay 9.” All too quickly he caught the tailhook and his career was done.

Chapter Text

Despite his eagerness to reunite with Catherine, Valen did his duty as Commanding Officer and stayed aboard Babylon 4 until the last person not part of Durann's team had left. He spent a lot of time walking empty halls, reading English language placards, recollecting fading memories of Babylon 5 and collecting apples to bring back to Catherine. There were just so many small reminders of his earlier life that he was going to miss and scrounging up shampoo and other sundries for Catherine brought him face to face with all the minutia of life in the Twenty Third Century he'd never see again – brand names, products, ingredients. He went to the last room he and Garibaldi had been in and remembered looking around then, Michael yelling at him that he wasn't the captain of the ship. Soon, he thought, I won't be.

On the final day he assembled all the men and women who had volunteered to spend their lives in exile and made certain they understood the irreversibility of their decision. Theirs was a self-selected task even more extreme than his own – to live and die aboard a deteriorating alien space station in the furthest reaches of the galaxy with no chance of ever returning home. Never again would they celebrate another festival, see Minbar's spectacular beauty or hear a child's voice. And yet no one backed out. It awed and humbled him to have inspired such loyalty.

Finally it was time for his own departure. He took a last tour of C&C, programed in the coordinates for the Station's final journey and turned control over to Shai Alyt Derann. Then he and Marneer made their way to a Minbari flyer and left Babylon 4 behind forever. Valen took a long look back, almost incredulous that he would never in this lifetime see it again, but then he thought of Catherine and his children and nothing but the future interested him anymore.

Chapter Text

A warm tropical breeze blew through the open windows of a small beachside cottage as high tide waves crashed against the shore. It was a rustic affair built with local materials by Valen, one of his eldest sons and Delenn's husband Marneer. It looked like the creation of someone who relied on experiences from his teen years and two people who had never seen a house not carved from stone. Some of the walls were out of plumb, they relied on an outhouse, and the kitchen was barely more advanced than the medieval hearths then in use on Earth, but Catherine thought it was the most beautiful of all the places she'd ever lived. She and Valen lived a primitive existence; fishing, gathering fruit and tending to a small garden for subsistence, swimming, beach combing, reading Minbari scroll-books and exploring their new world for fun. The Shadow War was a twenty-year-old memory neither bothered to recall. From the sleeping porch Valen stared spellbound at the ocean's night time bioluminescence, then looked with even greater fascination at the woman beside him.

“You should sleep, Jeff.” Catherine admonished, rolling over in their simple bed with a contended sigh. Though there was no way to change his body back, in their retirement Valen had become Sinclair again.
“I'm fine.” Sinclair put an arm around her and pulled her closer. “It's been a long journey, hasn't it? The Academy, Babylon 5, Minbar and the Wars?”
“Two lifetimes.”
“Of all of those times, these last five years have been the best,” he sighed, kissing her on the head, “six grown children back on Minbar, building their own lives, and me with no responsibilities, no concerns, alone with you at last on this quiet planet.” He played with her greying hair in the moonlight. To him it looked like molten silver, but then everything about her still captivated him. “It's like a dream. I finally feel at home.”
“Me too.” She shifted her weight. “How do you think the Minbari are fairing?”
“I don't worry about that anymore,” he said sincerely, “Delenn will keep them on track. 'To her I leave the scepter and the isle.' And as for us,” he closed his eyes and began to recite; “'and tho' we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.'”
“Thirty some odd years later and you're still stuck on that poem.” Sinclair nodded sheepishly, then turned to meet her loving gaze.
“Yeah. I'd write you one of my own if I had a computer. Or paper.”
“Still such a romantic.”
“As long as it keeps working on you,” he retorted.
“It works. So shut up and make love to me,” she said climbing atop him, and blissfully, Sinclair complied.