"Indeed it is. Commander N'Rothak will be taking overall charge. He's a very experienced captain and administrator. He will soon…."
"A Narn? Great Maker, they could not be so foolish, surely. The Alliance have sent a Narn to lead the peacekeeping force?"
"Why would they not? Eighty percent of the overall force are Narns. There are obvious advantages. You share a border, they are near enough to Gorash for there to be little time wasted. They know the system and the world…."
"And why is that? Because they occupied it for a year, because they spent decades attacking it! I do not believe this. How long were we and the Narns at war? Too long to let them take over one of our worlds in this way!"
"The war between you and the Narn is over now, Majesty. You are all part of the Alliance now. The Kha'Ri specifically requested this role, as a symbol that the past is done, and an example of renewed co-operation. Of course, if you would rather the people of Gorash starve, then you have but to say so."
"You know full well I cannot do that. Good night, Mr. Morden. I am suddenly feeling…. very tired."
And he was indeed feeling very tired, but there was little to be done about that. He needed more than one night to make himself feel better.
He lay still and silent beside Timov until dawn, listening to the sound of his own hearts beating. They seemed so much louder than they had before.
* * *
Councils were rare among the Brotherhood Without Banners. Usually there was little to discuss, little to agree upon. The captains came and went as they saw fit, banding together only for a common purpose.
They had, however, agreed upon a few situations that would necessitate a meeting of all the captains. A proposition to launch a new attack. A potential threat to their base, in particular from the Alliance. The expulsion of one of their number. Or the acceptance of a new member.
Moreil knew it was the latter, and that was why he actually deigned to attend this meeting. Usually he did not. Petty politics did not suit him. He did not care which of them led, which futile ploy of revenge they followed first. All he cared about was the service of chaos.
But something stirred within him as he walked the darkened corridors of their home. Something told him this would be important.
Behind him, the Wykhheran complained angrily. There had been little for them to eat recently, at least little worth the effort. Some of the prisoners taken at Gorash had died here, either from injuries or torture or suicide, and Moreil had let their carcasses serve as food, but that was cold meat. The Wykhheran wanted warm fare.
Why, they complained, could they not devour the Sin-tahri female? She was young and healthy and warm. What interest could Moreil have in her? Or, for that matter, in the elder Sin-tahri male who owned her? Surely neither of them mattered?
Moreil did not answer them. He did not have to, and they all knew it, but this time he did not reply because he did not have a valid answer. Rem Lanas meant nothing to him, but the girl…. He seemed to recognise something within her, and a hunch, an instinct, a revelation from the Dark Masters even, told him she would be needed alive at some point.
Patience, he told them. There will be plenty to eat soon.
It was time enough for another raid. If the whole of the Brotherhood did not agree to such an action, then Moreil would take out his own ship and go hunting. The service of the Dark Masters did not allow for a rest.
He entered the room that had been set aside as the meeting place, and immediately he noticed the other captains wince slightly. They feared him. That was good. All of them knew about his honour guard, and those who were wise feared the Wykhheran.
There was only one who did not, and that was the human. He was balancing his knife on the table, point first, and spinning it. Moreil had not asked his name, he had not cared to know, but some respect was called for to one so fearless.
Besides, it had been he who had helped them find this base. Apparently it had been attacked and almost destroyed during the war between his people and the Minbari, and since abandoned. Moreil had not cared for more details. He spent as little time here as possible.
He took his place, not sitting as the others were, and looked around at them all. The captains and leaders of the Brotherhood Without Banners. The human, the knife wielder. The Narn captain who had coined the name that had finally stuck. Beside him was a Narn female, who wore a long sword on her back. There were two Drazi, who looked enough alike to be twins. Rem Lanas was there, again pretending to be more important than he was. There were a few others, newcomers mostly. None mattered. None dared to look at him.
"We have a request to join our order," the Narn captain said. He was the one who most clearly saw the need to bond the disparate group together. There was something he quoted a lot, repeating the phrase over and over. 'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.' It had been said by a great holy man of his people. It was not a concept Moreil liked. It spoke too much of order for his liking.
"We all know the rules we have agreed. When one wishes to join, he must explain to us why he wishes to do so, and why we should accept him. Then we vote. If there is even one vote against, he is denied, and killed."
Moreil listened as the Narn continued. Rules were irrelevant, creations of order. The only rule that mattered was the spreading of chaos, the only order necessary was service to the Dark Masters.
"Let him enter," the Narn said.
Moreil turned as the door opened and a man walked in. Looking at him, Moreil knew he had been right in his instinct to come here. Once again, the Dark Masters had steered him correctly.
It was a Centauri male, older than Rem Lanas. His hair was long and puffed up above his head. His once-fine clothes were now scuffed and torn. A sword hung at his belt, worn in the fashion of a man who treats his weapon as part of his body.
But it was his eyes that most convinced Moreil. They were eyes that spoke of a wealth of experience, of oceans of blood, of the wails of defeated enemies. This man was a leader, a lord, a general. He was the first here Moreil felt would be worthy to stand before the Priests of the Fallen Midnight and proclaim service to the Dark Masters. All the others were worthless, save for the human, and he was motivated by insanity.
"State your name to the Council," the Narn said. By the angry words of the Drazi to each other, they already knew it.
"Marrago," he said. "My name is Marrago."
* * *
There was always something to do. Usually more than one thing. Leadership was all a matter of prioritisation and delegation. This was something Delenn had been taught very early, but unfortunately it required enough people that a leader trusted in order to delegate to.
That was a list that was in woefully short supply.
And the most important position of all. That still had to be decided.
"Babylon Five needs a Commanding Officer," she said. It was true. The station was receiving an increasing amount of traffic in recent weeks. People were flocking here, not just diplomats and their staff, but traders, questors, anyone seeking a new home. There were even many who had come here to see her, a fact Delenn contemplated with no pleasure. G'Kar was working on establishing a Ranger base here, although he still insisted on maintaining the main base on Kazomi 7.
And as Alliance business grew, so did the number of people required to attend to it all. Nearly everyone from Kazomi 7 had moved here. Of all of the people she knew and trusted on Kazomi 7, only Vejar had never set foot here.
A succession of people had performed acting CO duties for the station during its construction. Major Krantz, Captain Tikopai, Captain Kulomani, Commander Ta'Lon, John himself, but no one permanent had been appointed yet. John was currently Acting Commanding Officer, but there was too much work for him, coupled with leading the Dark Star fleet.
"I know," he said, not looking up from the report he was reading. "I was hoping…. David could…."
"I know," she said. He had been hoping that for a while, back when he had first broached the idea to her. But David was not here, and neither of them knew where he was. It was more than a year since he had left, giving no explanation other than that he needed 'some space'. "But we do not know if he is ever coming back."
"He will be."
"But until he does…." Delenn was not sure if he would, but she did not try to puncture John's illusions. She had watched David's gradual slide into despair, seen all the wounds of body and mind he had suffered. Some such wounds never healed, and she doubted there was anywhere he could go where he could be truly made well.
"We'll appoint someone else until he does," John agreed. "Have you read this?"
"Probably." Delenn sighed. She doubted there was a single piece of paper anywhere on the station she had not read. "What is it?"
"Ranger reports. Some of the Dark Stars have been looking into these rumours we've been hearing all year. You know, the ones about those ships. Unidentifiable ships."
"I think I remember," she murmured. "What about it?"
"They haven't found anything. One of them hasn't come back, but there are still sightings. A Brakiri merchant ship almost ran into something in hyperspace just a couple of weeks ago. The description is…. like nothing I've ever seen before."
"There have always been stories, rumours."
"And if these are more? Dammit, what if it's the Shadows hiding out somewhere? Letting us think they've all gone, biding their time."
"We could send out another ship to investigate."
"No. They won't find anything. There's an old saying. 'If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.' Besides, I've been getting cabin fever. It'll be good to get back out into space again."
Delenn looked up, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. "You will go yourself?"
"This could be important. It shouldn't have been left this long."
"We have been busy. The Drazi. These raiders. Securing trade routes…."
"There is nothing more important than making sure the Shadows don't come back, Delenn. Nothing. If this is them…. we have to know about it."
"I know that," she snapped. "But does this really need you? You are the General of the Alliance. What if…?"
She stopped. He was smiling, in that graceless, almost boyish way he had sometimes, rarely. "Is that just a Minbari way of saying you are going to miss me?"
She frowned, but could not help turning it into a smile. "I will miss you," she said softly. "When will you be going?" There was no point in trying in dissuade him, no point at all.
"The sooner the better. My crew is always ready, so we can leave tomorrow. We shouldn't be out that long. Perhaps…. a month or two."
"Tomorrow?"
"Early tomorrow." He looked at her, his head cocked slightly. "Are you doing anything important?"
"Well…."
"Anything that can't wait until tomorrow?"
"No," she said smiling. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."
He moved forward quickly and took her hand, helping her to her feet. His lips met hers.
"Carpe diem," he whispered to her.
"I couldn't agree more," she whispered back.
* * *
Whispers from the Day of the Dead — IVHe had died in peace, his eyes open unblinking to the light of the sun, the same eyes that now look at her with such wonder, with such love. His wounds are gone, the limp, the shattered spine, the mangled hand, the injuries he had sustained defending her and had struggled with all the remainder of his life, they are now gone. His soul is as perfect as she remembered.
"It is you, then," she whispers. "I had hoped. I had dared to dream that…. Why did you never tell me?"
"What could I tell you, my lady? I think I knew, but only a little. I had only the slightest idea. Whatever Sinoval did to me when he brought me back…. it could not keep me alive forever. Not even for long.
"But what time I had, I spent with you."
"You died alone."
"No, my lady. You were with me. You were always with me. Even when we were apart, even when…. You were always with me."
"I love you."
"And I have always loved you. You know that."
She nods. "I know that."
He walks forward, a slow smile playing across his face. With a hand once mangled and ruined he lifts up her chin, and a flicker of lightning passes through her at his touch. She looks up into his eyes, and is lost in them. Gone is the Satai, the leader, the orator, the woman who has weathered torture and loss and heartbreak. All that remains is the woman in love.
"You wear my necklace," he says, touching it gently. "I never finished it. I wish I had."
"I will always wear it."
He kisses her gently, and holds her against him. She cries into his shoulder.
"Why have you not gone beyond?" she asks him, after a while. "Why…?"
"The warrior I used to be would tell you I remained behind to guide those who would come after me, that I had delusions of becoming a spirit like all those great ones who fell. The worker I became would simply say that I waited for you.
"I will wait for you, and then…. we will pass beyond together, to be reborn into new lives, to experience new loves, to live the long life of happiness we were denied in this existence."
"Do you truly believe that?"
"I do."
"It is just…. so hard…. sometimes. I wake up in the middle of the night and reach for you beside me. I sometimes imagine you walking beside me. I go to ask your opinion and I realise you are not there. I need you."
"I have faith in you, my lady. I always did. I know just how strong you truly are. Our people are lucky to have you. They need you more than they realise."
"But what if I fail? What if I trip and fall? Who will pick me up when you are not there?"
"You will pick yourself up. You will learn from your mistakes and grow stronger from what does not kill you. You are not alone. You have allies and friends. You have me."
"You are gone. After tonight, the comet will pass and whatever door has opened to allow you here will be closed."
"You have my memory, and we both have tonight. We always knew we would never have eternity, but we loved in the little time we had, and before the end I found peace and acceptance and love. What more can any of us ask?"
