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Delenn’s life had been filled with difficult moments, and difficult choices. Some of those choices had changed her; others had forced her to change direction. There had been little time in the last few hours to reflect on her latest choice. As her flyer and the accompanying Minbari warships sped back towards the station that was her home and her hope, she had taken some time to be alone and consider the ramifications of what she had done.
She had broken the Grey Council. Although she had known this moment was coming, that it had been prophesied long ago by Valen himself, the act itself had been shocking to her. The covenant that all Minbari lived by, the compromise that had saved their race from endless fratricidal wars, the thousand year old structure that she had known so well and once been part of; was gone, broken into pieces like the staff of Valen which she had destroyed. Electricity had raced through her body as she had bent the staff until it finally snapped in her hands. The strength had come from somewhere—perhaps from destiny, perhaps from within her. Anger had given her strength. Her rage at their timidity and their puerile justification of their own weakness had put the words she used in her mouth. She had told them that Dukhat’s words were on her lips, and at that moment, they were. The thought of her long lost mentor always brought her vividly back to the moment of his death. That day she had known a hot, wild anger; a rage which had taken away the clear foresight for which she was known. It had left her blind, and she had led the blind, into war and death and blood. Shuddering, she came back to the present. This time the anger had been just and right. She knew that, even though reaction left her shaken and afraid.
A voice sounded in the room, “We are approaching the jump point to Epsilon Three, Secha Delenn.”
She stood, and smoothed down her battle dress, far easier to move about in than her formal robes. “I will be there. Prepare for the jump on my order. Let us hope we are in time.”
Emerging from the gate, the tactical situation was clear. The station had been under attack, probably for some time. The remains of starfuries and destroyers filled the space between the station, the remaining Earthforce ships, and the planet below. Black gashes and bent metal scored the fragile skin of the station; all that kept the cold vacuum of space from the quarter million souls aboard her. Fury rose in Delenn’s throat, a cold fury this time. This was her home, and their only hope in the great war that was coming. As her cruiser sped closer, she could see the blast doors covering the command deck windows. They were pocked with craters from missile attacks, and showed clear lines of strafing fire. She fought back a sudden wave of fear. John would have been there, behind that gutted steel. She couldn’t think about that now; the time for thinking was past. “Open a channel to that ship!” she demanded.
Her crew, well trained, working as if a single unit slipped into battle mode; training their weapons on the most vulnerable parts of the EarthForce ships. One of them waved his hands over a panel of crystals, and simply nodded to Delenn to indicate communication lines had been established.
She began coldly, with no preamble, “This is Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari. Babylon 5 is under our protection. Withdraw, or be destroyed.”
An unidentified voice crackled in reply, “Negative. We have authority here. Don’t force us to engage your ship.”
For a moment she considered laughing in their face, but she was not feeling particularly amused. All she wanted was for them to go away, to leave her and hers alone. “Why not? Only one human captain has ever survived battle with a Minbari fleet. He is behind me. You are in front of me. If you value your lives, be somewhere else.”
It was with immense satisfaction, and more than a little relief, that she watched the ships turn towards the gate and retreat. She rose, instructed the Minbari handling the com to let the station know that they would be staying to assist in their defense, and to inform the other Minbari captains they would conference in half an hour. On her way off the command deck, she paused, and added, “If you could ascertain the fate of the station’s command staff, and get a preliminary damage assessment from Captain Sheridan, it would assist in our planning. Forward the information to my quarters.”
Once behind closed doors, the trembling began, then the room began to spin. She clutched at furniture on her way to the chair and sat down awkwardly, putting her hands flat on the table, trying to control the wave of emotions flooding through her. Thirty minutes didn’t seem like enough time to put this behind her, but put it behind her she must. The captains of the other Minbari ships could not see her like this; she had brought them here, against the wishes of the Warrior caste, and probably more than half the population, to defend a group of humans and other aliens. Putting a Minbari fleet in the middle of a civil war was unheard of; what were the humans to the Minbari? She had been ready to give the order to kill thousands of humans, perhaps tens of thousands. Their blood would have been on her hands, and the last thing she wanted was more blood added to her name. Feeling stronger, she rose and began to pace. The station had to be saved. It would be the rallying point for the army that must be established to fight the Enemy. Sheridan had to be saved. She and Kosh both believed he was the pivot on which their plot turned. Sinking back in to her chair, she realized she had not yet learned his fate. Her fears closed her throat with unshed tears. She was no longer certain how much of her drive to save him came from political necessity, and how much from personal desire.
The com chimed, and in response to her assent, a hologram of the communications officer formed in front of her. "I have spoken with Lennier. He informs us the damage to the station was wide-spread but manageable. Members of the command staff were injured, but none of the injuries seem to be life-threatening. There were only minor injuries to Minbari on the station, and they have all been dealt with by the station medical staff."
Although her hands clenched involuntarily at the word 'injuries' she immediately relaxed. Lennier would have let her know if…anyone…was badly hurt. "Good. Is there anything else?"
"We had a brief message from Captain Sheridan. He says he wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience, regarding the defense of the station."
She schooled her face to remain calm, so as not to betray the intense relief that washed through her. A personal message confirmed Lennier's report that John was not injured, at least not badly. "Are the other captains on-line for the conference?"
"They await your convenience, Secha."
"Put them through. Let me know if there are any further communications from the station. Delenn out."
So she began the task of reassuring her people that the right decision had been made, and arranging all the logistics of a prolonged defensive strategy. Contact had to be made with Minbar, to assess the degree of popular support for her actions. Co-ordination of her efforts and those of the Rangers had to be established. There were issues of supplies, spare parts, maintenance…it would take a while just to get the processes started. Most importantly, she had to be seen to be in control of herself and of the situation. They were here because of her, and looked to her for the certainty of leadership. She found herself wishing she could discuss it all with John, but that would have to wait.
A few hours later, she finally felt she could leave the cruiser and return to the station. She hadn't slept in days, it seemed; not since the Ranger bearing the news about the Shadows had reached the station. All her doubts were crowding back around her as she sat in the back seat of the shuttle. Her second on the cruiser had insisted that she allow a crew member to pilot the shuttle. She thought perhaps he was afraid she might crash into the docking bay in her exhaustion. Leaning back against the head rest, she closed her eyes, trying to meditate away the tension she still felt. Soon she would be home, among the people she had come to care for and to trust. Lennier would descend on her, bringing her up to date on what had happened while she was gone, while subtly trying to force her to rest. He never saw the contradiction in those actions. She hadn't called ahead, hoping to slip aboard and take some time walking to her quarters, assessing the mood of the people around her. It was a worry to her whether the humans would appreciate her actions, or resent them. They were a prideful people, almost as prideful as her own. There were so many similarities, yet no one seemed to see them, except for her, and Jeff Sinclair, and John.
Slipping into a deeper trance, she allowed herself the luxury of considering John Sheridan. Wondering how he would respond to her decision to surround him with Minbari warships; wondering how he felt about the break from Earth; and secretly, wondering how he really felt about her. Her own emotions were complicated and uncertain, yet felt at such a deep level that there must be some eternal truth in them.
Her thoughts drifted back to what she had told the Council. Your hearts are empty. You stand for nothing. That had been the second worst moment of her life; the first being the death of Dukhat and her resulting actions and their consequences. It didn't help to realize that there might well be worse to come. The signal chimed that they were docking, and she slowly allowed herself to come back to full awareness of her surroundings as the cruiser slipped deftly into the waiting bay. She didn't expect anyone to meet her. Perhaps when she reached her quarters, she could leave a message for John, so they could set a time for the strategy meeting that was needed. She told the pilot to return to the ship, and his duties, thanking him for his care in ferrying her over. As she was planning to wander the station a short while, she gave her bag to a porter, and asked that it be delivered to her quarters.
Walking down the long corridor to the main terminal, she passed a long line of humans preparing to depart. Security was standing guard, and some of the looks that came her way made her shiver inside. Hurrying past them, she turned the corner, and saw John, talking to Mr. Garibaldi. Garibaldi saw her first, but she didn't get a chance to greet him, as John caught sight of her, and her focus shifted immediately to him. His smile was as bright as the sun, and as welcome to her after her long journey.
"Hello, John," she said, unable to conceal her pleasure.
"Delenn…"
He said her name so softly, like a prayer. She thought she could see Garibaldi backing slightly away from them, and her heart warmed at his discretion. John took her arm and pulled her aside.
"Listen… I’ve been trying to think of some way to tell you how much what you did means to me and well, 'Thank you' seems poor and inadequate. I don’t know how much this cost you, and I suspect I never will. But I want you to know… that seeing your face at that moment was probably the single finest moment of my life."
Her heart spoke before her head. "It seems that this is the only home we have left." Trying to think of an acceptable way to show the intense emotions she was feeling, she went on, "How can I abandon, as you say, my partner?"
His warm smile turned to a broad grin as he took her proffered hand, and shook it. Then, carefully, his gaze fixed on her as if assessing her reaction; he gently raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
The warm jolt of electricity that went through her at his touch was familiar, and seductive. She could remember each and every time he had touched her, even casually, and each time the same pulse of joy raced through her body. Noises to her right brought her dimly back to awareness of others in the room. John dropped her hand, and she gradually became aware that Garibaldi had returned, with Dr. Franklin and Commander Ivanova in tow.
Stephen was not looking at them, but his expression was mirthful, as was Garibaldi's. Susan merely nodded at her. Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes, listening to Stephen's report on Susan's injuries. Now the commander was gesturing John somewhere, saying that there was something he should see. She exchanged a puzzled glance with John; but he obviously didn't know what to expect either. John followed Susan, while Stephen escorted her, and Garibaldi came behind. As they entered the main area of the Zocalo, she could see dozens of humans and aliens, standing silently in front of them. John looked back at her, and she came forward, and took his arm. When the applause began, with a single clap like a pistol shot, she flinched. John smiled at her, and put his arm around her, as it became obvious this was a heartfelt tribute to their efforts. Standing next to this man, who was perhaps her destiny, she knew her heart was not empty; not any more. Together, they stood for something; and they stood as equals, partners in all that was yet to come.