** "...one of the more interesting things about that time is that out of those who went to Z'ha'dum, that fateful week at the end of 2260, my good friend John Sheridan was the last to return. Now, this is something that none of you out there know about, and up until now, it's been a secret kept by all those who knew, for the right reasons, and at the right times. But maybe, in the end, it doesn't matter, anyways..
..we all know the outcome of what happened, now don't we??"
- Doctor Stephen Franklin, as quoted in "Holding the Line."
* * *
Minbari Cruiser VASHOKK, Minbar Orbit, Jan 3rd, 2261.
Log of Physician Trivell.
In an age of wonders, an age of terrors, an age in which we do not know what lies ahead of us...only that the Shadows await, and the last battle has yet to be fought...today a miracle was visited upon us, a miracle enclosed in an object of mystery, an object we will now never know more about. But more on this, in due course.
When I and my three assistants, accompanied by some of the few Warriors that decided to fight on our side against the Darkness and stay aboard, entered the capsule we had intercepted through the entrance which had mysteriously appeared on its side moments after being brought aboard, it was to find a scene of wrack and ruin. Whatever fires this vessel had encountered, it had scorched and destroyed every surface, and every angle. Interestingly enough, everywhere we looked in this dying, curved place, there was great flakes of what appeared to grey skin falling off of the walls and ceilings...almost as if, at one time, this ship had been *alive*.
In the translucent core of the vessel, we found an impossibility...but there it was, for all to see; a shimmering bubble of green energy enclosing two figures, reclined as if in death, with hands crossed across their chests. Two human figures, a man and a woman of Earth. Their faces were *not* at peace, for whatever had trapped them in this stasis, it had done so while they were facing extreme pain. Equally clear was that these two were, from the pins of their rank, and their mode of dress, *senior* Anla'shok...but through the Fire they had gone, for their clothes was rent with great holes and scars.
But they were alive...or were they?? For when the lead member of the Warriors reached out to touch the bubble, it instantly collapsed, releasing those within. A quick examination revealed that, for all intents and purposes, they were not greatly harmed, save for the fact that the left hand of the female was nearly crushed; we will, it can be hoped, do something about this in due course.
In addition, laid across the female's form, and partly wrapped in her cloak, was a warrior pike, the end of which was partly coated in dried human blood.
Strangest of all, however, are two facts.
The first is as follows; we quickly deduced the identities of these Anla'shok... Sha'vei William Westcastle and his closest, stalwart companion...the master of the denn'bok, Val'na Jennifer Clifford. This news passed with speed both down to Minbar and out to the stars beyond. Both of them, it seems, dissapeared cycles ago, on business secret to the Anla'shok, business we are not privy to.
The second and by far the strangest fact, however, is that for all we know of human medical science, *both* of these Rangers should be standing and talking to us as I type this. That they are not, is a mystery beyond words, and unexplainable to us.
And I fear, unsolvable, without knowledge we do not presently possess.
* * *
Babylon 5. Jan 3, 2261...1900 hrs.
"You have heard?"
An angry nod. "Yes; and should he recover from his injuries, the conversation I will have with the Sha'vei shall be short and *to* the point. How it is that he and his Val'na survived, and Captain Sheridan did not, is something that he will explain to me personally. It is is the business of all Rangers, no matter their rank, to protect those who command them. WE DIE FOR THE ONE is the code they live by...that he did not die so the Captain could live, *must* be answered for!"
"Delenn!...your assumption that the Sha'vei and the Captain were even *aware* of each other's presence while they were at Z'ha'dum may well be an incorrect one. This cannot be proven, and as such, perhaps this is not a course to pursue until we know *more*."
A pause, and then, a slight nod. "Perhaps you're right, Lennier...perhaps I jump to conclusions. But if not..."
"For now, this is not our greatest concern; both of them, if the Chief Physician of the VASHOKK is to believed, lie in coma, and close to death."
A nod. "I have ordered the VASHOKK to bring them both here, Lennier; perhaps Doctor Franklin can do something for them that our doctors cannot, with his greater experience in human medical matters."
* * *
On White Star Eleven...2200 hrs.
She had, with Dreann's help, partly converted one of the smaller quarters on White Star Eleven into something resembling her quarters at Tuzanor; and arranged, during the end of her most recent time there, to bring most of the scant collection of her personal belongings onboard. Now, even at such late hours, there were things to be done, writings to record...
But that duty was not what faced her, now...for now, there was the absolutely *necessary* evening practice with her staff. Wherever she was, Jennifer had taught her the necessity of practice, even in as small an area as this one.
Nearby, of course, a candle burned in her name, and William's...and would do, as long as she lived, as long as she served...
<chime>
"Oh for." Who would interrupt her, this late at night?? She turned to the nearby comm terminal. "This is Lakotal Tikopai...who is it?"
Larieken's face appeared on the screen, and she smiled; the Ranger had, it seemed, decided to become her stalwart companion, and she had to admit, she appreciated the effort. "Yes, Larieken...what is it?"
"Julia; forgive the late hour, but news has just arrived from Minbar; news secret to the Rangers, and not, for now, known outside our circles...you may rejoice! The Rimstalker and the Observer have been RETURNED TO US."
A burst of sudden incomprehension at those words made her quickly grip the edge of the terminal block. Those words, so impossible...so what she had wanted to believe! Almost, she had given up hope. "WHAT?" she burst out, her voice broken.
"It is true...amazingly enough, it *is* true! Earlier this day, a capsule of unknown type and definite alien origin arrived through the Primary Minbar Jump portal, its course, from the Rim. Upon intercept and entry, the capsule was found to contain Sha'vei Westcastle and Val'na Clifford."
"Alive?" Please...
"Barely, it seems; our doctors have been unable to revive them from the deep coma they are in, and each has suffered other minor injuries...but for now, it is enough that they are *alive* and they have returned to us...there is now a very great hope they will recover. Additionally, the Entil'zha has decreed that they be brought to this place; we will soon see, first hand, their true state."
"But they were on Z'ha'dum!" she replied, her voice quivering. "No one goes to Z'ha'dum, and returns unchanged! How will they have CHANGED, if they *do* recover??"
Larieken's face grew serious. "I do not know the answer to that question, Julia; but perhaps, in due course, we will find out, together."
"Perhaps..." she whispered, as the signal was cut. "Perhaps, now, we have a hope of getting out of this situation, in one piece."
* * *
And so, the Word spread, from mouth to mouth, but not from Ranger to those outside their circles. The word that he who had gone to Z'ha'dum to save the only thing he loved, had returned. But the word was restrained, and uncertain...for would they yet die?? The answer to this was not known...but if they recovered, would they act, to lead the Army against the Shadows, as proof to the Younger Worlds that someone could go to Z'ha'dum, and return?
And the answer came down from the Entil'zha, and it was this:
NO.
If they do recover, and this chance is slim, all were told, that will not be their task. The One who is destined to do this *also* went to Z'ha'dum, and has not yet returned to us. The silence from the Rim is absolute, but if he does not return to us, then I may go in his place.
But they shall not. I have not as yet determined what *their* tasks shall be...and that is even if they should recover. All of this is business of the Anla'shok, not of the Younger Worlds. Until and if I decide otherwise, it must stay that way.
And the Rangers heard those words, and understood, settlling down to the tasks at hand. For had not the Entil'zha decreed they should attack Z'ha'dum, with all the resources the Younger Worlds could add to their banner?
They would not ignore such a command..they *could* not ignore it.
The only thing that would *make* them ignore the command was if something replaced the chance of success with an even greater chance of success...
And among the Rangers, at this point, it was decided that would be a miracle.
* * *
2300 hrs, 3 Jan 2261.
Consciousness returned to Brianna in slow, sluggish, but even steps. The muted lights in these quarters (not hers) were dim enough that they didn't hurt her eyes, and the ache in her shoulder blades from where Ulkesh had *swatted* her in his disdain for her actions was worse, in the aftermath, then she had ever experienced before.
And then, the dim form standing nearby, leaning against the wall, came clear; a tall woman, with long, burnished red hair, her hawk-like eyes on her.
"Where am I?"
The woman smiled. <In a place of safety; a place where we can talk together, without HIM knowing about it. Together we have enough power, after what They've done to us, to keep him out...for a time.>
She sighed, and rose to her feet, a deep signal of thankfulness returning, and, for the first time in a VERY long time, to use her gifts without asking first. <You helped me, after what I said to him?>
<Yes. You came very close to making him angry enough to hurt you seriously, Brianna; that isn't something you want to do, right now. I'm closer to him then you are; both a hindrance and a curse, that is...seems that I've ended up being the most favorite of his tools.>
<I never thought, in the beginning, that it would come to this!>
<Worse is coming, yet; He showed you the Fleet, didn't he?>
A brief nod of regret...and emotions of fear. <Yes.>
<This is only going to get worse. The Vorlons are afraid of failure, and more afraid of the corruption and chaos spreading among the Worlds.>
<They wouldn't...they couldn't! Could they?>
<What do you think?>
<We have to warn the others!>
<We can't...not yet; not until we're sure.>
<By then, it may be too late!>
<Perhaps so; but if we warn them beforehand, His retribution may be more severe then we would like. However, if I were you, Brianna, I would stay away from Him for a while, until this is all taken care of, one way...or the other.
For if you anger him too much, he *will* kill you..be sure of that.>
She nodded. <Thank you! For all your help, and your advice...
Lyta.>
* * *
Nighthawk Colony. Midnight, 3 Jan 2261, E.S.T
Not even the light of Falcon Moon shone down on the scene below him, but that was not needed; the Tall Man who stood on the mountain ridge could see, clearly enough, the enormous, landed clutch of Shadow vessels on the plain below him. That they were more then twenty kilometers away mattered little...the sheer scale of the things was reason enough to continue the plans he had.
Stories he had heard, both through contacts official, and not; of histories he had searched out diligently, of messages he had overheard, in passing...and through the knowledge of a friend who had decided to join the organization called the *Rangers*...and who had now, unfortunately, joined his ancestors in the battle against the Enemy below.
The Tall Man's ancestors had come from a land on Earth torn by wars ancient in history. One such has started the first of Two great conflicts in Earth's Twentieth Century...then, after being held together for decades by the iron hand of Communism, another set of wars had split the country asunder, and scattered its peoples first across the globe, and then, into space. And now, it seemed, the War had followed him to this place...the curse of his people, perhaps??
Perhaps...but was there yet hope?? The mutterings of change were in the air, and sooner, rather then later, the Vorlons, those mysterious, seemingly helpful, reluctant, but ultimately adversarial aliens to those who waited below, would act.
The Tall Man decided he would not wait for that to happen. There was still time to leave Nighthawk, to escape the Hell that coming for all Her people.
But only if he acted NOW.
* * *
Farther in between the moments.
With a sudden start, William arose into consciousness.
Of a sort. It was unclear where he was, if *someplace* was the word to apply to where he found himself; a dark, tunnelled place, lit by the flickering light of fires, deeply embedded within pits...this seemed, for want of a better description, to be a junction of sorts.
"Ah." a voice announced, wise and knowing, and he turned, to observe a tall figure enter the junction, tall in stature, and *very* alien. Robes he wore, and a flowing circlet of metal upon his brow. "I see that you have returned to us...at least partly. At last, I may talk to you, of what must come next."
"Is this..."
"No; you are no longer on that world; for that matter, neither am I, any longer! But that is a story for another time, and another place, even if the story should be told. For now, you who the Rangers name Rimstalker, there are matters we must talk on, before you can be allowed to return to those who love you, and to those who would follow you, into Fire, and into death."
He laughed, a slightly self-mocking laugh. "I have faced death...I have faced the Darkness, and I've survived, it seems."
"Really. Have you?" The alien began to pace, a chuckle issuing from his lips. "And if you have survived, and live, then *why* are you here? Why do you not live, and walk among those I have just described??"
"I...don't know the answer to that question."
"A beginning, that is...an important statement, and concise. We enter life, and from the beginning to the end, we learn and adapt...and change. We all change, William Westcastle, and the course you have committed yourself to was successful only because certain parties decided to aide you in your time of need."
"Taaldon...and you?"
A nod. "Precisely; he who called himself Taaldon served a great many in his time, and I was the last; now, the time is coming when we will *all* be needed for the tasks ahead."
"The War."
"As you say; the Guardians will continue their conflict in due course, and both you and he I have decided to aid will be caught in between, once again; neither of you can avoid that fate, if a solution is to be found." And with that said, the alien fixed William with a sharp, calculating gaze. "But then again, how can a solution be found, when we have not as yet, fully resolved the problem?
You are partly the problem, I am afraid; with Taaldon's aid and sacrifice, it was possible for you and your companion to escape from Z'ha'dum. Even now, your corporeal forms reside in the capable hands of those called...Minbari."
He laughed in turn, and looked about him...of course. "So; this is just another aspect of The Dream."
A nod. "What the Cha'hal'zhamon taught you, I, in turn, helped to teach them, in the times after they entered this domain...but they do not remember...none of them remember the reasons why I helped them. It has been too long.
However, discussing them is not our prime concern; for now, I am afraid you must remain *here* for a time; until I and the one I have decided to aid can join you, you must remain; once that occurs, you will be allowed to return to that which you call...life."
"Why must this be?" he whispered.
"You were not called to this destiny to lead the Younger Races in this conflict, Rimstalker; but to serve, to aide...to stand behind shoulders, to always, shall we say, be in the right place, at the right time, for the right reasons. This has been said to you *before*, but not in the same context.
Do you understand?"
A moment later, he realized that he did. "The one you aid...he was on Z'ha'dum, when I was, was he not?"
"Yes."
"He was the Commander of the ship that destroyed the Shadow City?"
"Indeed."
"Is his name...John Sheridan?"
"You understand, then."
He sighed, and nodded. "Yes; I understand; I understand that the Younger Races look at Z'ha'dum, and know only fear. I understand they believe that all who go there die. And yet, if the Younger Races are to succeed in this mission, I should not be the one to bring them together...that was never my task. I am content to be a Ranger...to lead the White Star Fleet in battle, if the Entil'zha decides I am still fit to do so; if I am not stripped of my command, for doing what I did.
Sheridan, however...he is a part of the One I serve; and I have sworn, beyond all other things, to live for the One, to die for the One, and, if I live...
To *serve* the One."
The alien smiled. "It is well, then, that you understand. Now, I regret I must leave you for a time...but fear not, there will come another time, soon enough, when we will be able to speak on these matters again. Until that time, I must by need, bid you farewell."
"Wait!." he called out, as the alien departed, and the fires grew dim. "May I at least know your name?"
The alien nodded, quite calmly. "Yes, of course. My name...
Is LORIEN."
* * *
To be continued...
RIMSTALKER: THE RIDERS ON THE STORM; PART 2
"PRICES OF FIRE AND LOYALTY" ACT II OF II
**"I found out, later on, that my actions at Z'ha'dum had also had serious consequences for two other members of the Army of Light as well; Rangers who were already important to the Fight we fought. And as we moved into the ultimately fragile peace that reigned at the Alliance's beginning, they became even more critical, although in the few conversations I have had with them over the years, they have seen fit to argue with me on such matters.
That has always, of course, been their right; whether they *are* right, or not, is a matter of opinion.
William was, of course, the human who first brought the White Star Fleet together, alongside the Minbari he worked hand in hand with...and even now, she who is as close to him, as I am close to Delenn, stands by his side. Until death do we part, I guess, is the closest I can come to describing the situation. And if things hadn't worked out for us; if the worst had come to pass at Z'ha'dum, what would have happened then?
That it didn't happen that way...that Lorien chose to save not only me, but, indirectly, they as well, gave everybody the kick in the pants they needed, the courage to end it while we still could. I came back, and the Younger Races followed me into Hell; *He* came back, and those Rangers who followed him loyally soon did the same..."**
- From John Sheridan's autobiographical history of the Times,
"No Retreat, No Surrender"
* * *
Jan 7th, 2261, Earth Reckoning.
Log of Physician Trivell.
As I had previously mentioned, sooner or later I would be forced to continue the tale of what happened in Minbar orbit; it seems prudent, given that we are nearly to Babylon 5, that the rest of the story be told. And since I imagine Entil'zha Delenn will wish to read this account, it should certainly be as complete as possible.
Immediately after we departed from the alien craft, it began to essentially disintegrate from the inside out. After a handful of moments, as the Captain and the crew watched on in astonishment, the craft fell apart in a handful of swiftly shrinking fragments, and in due course, nothing at all was left. It existed only long enough to bring *them* back to us; and then, its task done, it left us with only questions.
I commented, earlier, that it seemed as if this craft had, at one time, been alive; though Valen only knows who the pilot was, or which race it belonged to. Perhaps if the Rimstalker and his companion can be revived, some insight on the matter may be attained. Then again, it is the Entil'zha who will make the final judgement on what information may be released in this regard; I am merely a physician, and know nothing of such matters.
It may please those who will read this to know, however, that besides the mysterious condition that is keeping the two Anla'shok in a near-coma state, my assistants and I have essentially managed to repair all the other minor injuries these two humans suffered during their...classified mission; the worst, of course, being the damage to the female's hand. We can for now do nothing more; perhaps the human doctor on Babylon 5, mentioned in the message from the Entil'zha, will be able to do more.
* * *
Babylon 5 Medlab Four, 2200 hrs, Jan 7th, 2261.
Doctor Stephen Franklin looked over the notes on the case, and sighed once again; it was getting late at night, and while that was nothing new, for him, this night, is was the strange and fascinating aspects of this situation that kept him here.
It had been nearly twelve hours since those two Rangers had arrived on the station; slightly less then that before he had determined there was, essentially, nothing wrong with them, beyond the mysterious nature of their unconsciousness and near coma; and slightly less then *that* before Delenn had come to him and requested that the whole matter be kept strictly confidential; in effect, until and *if* those two recovered, this portion of the Medlab was off limits to everyone except Delenn, himself, his staff, and those Rangers directly involved.
Though how long he would be able to keep the Commander out of the loop was a good question; admittedly, she had been quite busy just lately taking care of everything that the Captain had, before he had vanished at Z'ha'dum. But still...
The whole situation was just too damn weird!...as far as he could tell, there was essentially no reason why those Rangers shouldn't be up and about, and talking to him right now! He'd seen them aboard, he thought, once or twice in the last couple of years; Westcastle, from one little he had heard of the man, seemed to have quite a charismatic personality...but the thing of it was, since they were Rangers, what he could know about the situation had been limited by what Delenn had WANTED to tell him.
Which wasn't a whole lot, for now; the expression she wore when she had looked in on them earlier, had been a mixture of sadness, regret and cold anger...which was paramount, Franklin wasn't sure...but they were *probably* all important.
"Doctor?" Franklin looked up, to see a sight he not been expecting; a girl stood there, from the look of her maybe about seventeen years old, though it was hard to tell. The most surprising things about this girl, however, was the following; first, beyond the entrance to the Medlab, a Ranger waited, apparently on guard...
and two, she was wearing, for all intents and purposes, the Ranger uniform he had come to recognize on Marcus, minus the jade and silver badge they all had. On her, this was replaced, however, by a equally shiny jade star in a silver circle, in the exact same spot.
Weren't they getting just a *little* too desperate, here?...this girl was a little bit on the young side to be fighting the Shadows, wasn't she? But so serious.
He tried a smile on for size. "I suppose you'd be...Julia Tikopai, then?"
The girl nodded, saying nothing.
"You just about missed the chance to see them, you know; I was almost ready to call it quits for the night...but since you're here, and Delenn says you can see them..." he gestured to the inner door. "They're right in there."
* * *
With breath almost held, Julia walked slowly through the door, and into the octagonal chamber beyond, towards the two figures laid out within, as if in death. The muted strip lighting on the walls of the Medlab ensured that there was no shadows cast; but it was when she got a very GOOD look at them, that the surprise came...and her breath let out in a explosive rush.
She hardly noticed the tear trickling down her cheek...it had been exactly as she had feared, and her memory of how they had been before, was quite clear. *No* one went to Z'ha'dum, and escaped unchanged.
Her Mistress lay reclined, her face more or less peaceful...but the lines in that face, before nearly invisible, seemed much clearer, and Julia thought that there were now traces of silver at the roots of Jennifer's reddish-brown hair. The change in William, however, was far more pronounced...where before his hair had been nearly midnight black, now a long, thin streak of silver ran back from his left temple. What had happened at Z'ha'dum, that they should have aged so??
And how?? They looked to have aged somewhere around five years, in only a space of a few weeks!
"So." a familiar voice announced from behind, and she whirled, to see Tashann, Dreann just behind him, enter the lab, with Dr. Franklin, gaze resigned and a little concerned, looking through from beyond. "Now you know what we all know, Julia; there is always a price for visiting Z'ha'dum...and it would seem that those we have come to cherish and follow have paid that price. Dearly."
"Why?" she whispered, sliding down into the corner beside Jennifer's bed. "What is it that the Universe wants of us, Tashann? How can it be *so* callous as to allow this to happen?? The Universe has robbed them of what was theirs...it's not right!"
"No, it isn't, but once they recover, as no doubt they will, Valen willing, neither William nor Jennifer would want you to reflect on their condition, as you are. You must set these thoughts aside...for if the Entil'zha requires of us the need to battle the Shadows again, all our focus must be set on that task. And they may yet join us, no matter their present condition...for as Dr. Franklin has already determined, beyond the mystery of their unconsciousness, they are quite healthy."
"Then why aren't they awake, yet?" she burst out.
"I do not know the answer to that question...perhaps in due course, the doctor can tell us. For now though, it is late, and I believe it prudent that we retire to the Compound for the night."
"But before we do," a voice announced, "There is another matter to attend to." They all turned, to see Shival in the doorway, his expression set, "There is something I must give to our young Observer to guard until her Mistress returns to us." Shival opened his hand, and Julia looked down, her disbelief enormous, to see Jennifer's pike in his hand. "I have decided for the time being, that there is no one better suited to hold her weapon for her."
"You've..." she abruptly stopped herself, and sighed; she was being childish, and that was not the way of the Rangers...that was not her way, any longer. She nodded, all seriousness again, and bowed. "I accept this duty, in Valen's Name, Sha'vei. Thank you."
Shival snorted. "Just do *not* decide to USE it, young one; you have not the skill nor the permission, as of yet."
* * *
Later.
"Ah...thank you for finding the time to talk to me, Durhan; I am well aware of the time constraints placed on you, at the moment."
A snort. "Gave it to her, did you??"
"Yes, to guard, I told her, until and if, the Val'na recovers from her condition."
"Do you suppose that Larieken will do EXACTLY what we asked him to?"
A nod. "Yes...he is very clear on his instructions when it comes to our young Observer; if she is to advance to the Ceremony as fast as she must, then we must start NOW."
quot;Hmmph; it looks to me like you are intending to have her become the finest and youngest Human Ranger we've ever seen, Shival! In Valen's Name, two cycles is a long time, given the current circumstances...we may not even survive the next two tendays!"
"I understand that, Durhan; but we can always hope...and as long as the Shadows continue to threaten us, I must make use of all my resources."
* * *
Babylon 5's Ranger Compound. Jan 8th, 2261...morning rotations.
<clack>
In numb silence, Julia watched her staff slide away from her, and over the edge of the parapet, clattering out of view onto the rocks below...an abberation in the green and buildings of the Garden, but this was the Minbari section, after all! Across from her, Larieken sighed, and retracted his pike. "It would seem, Julia, that there are more then a number of problems that we must deal with here; first and foremost among them is that your attention is not on the matter at hand; second, is that your concentration is lacking, as a result, and *lastly*, and most importantly, while your prized staff is quite usable, it is not a match for my pike!" The last was said arrogantly.
She sighed, and half turned away. "I'm sorry, Larieken. It's just that..."
"Sorry!?" The Minbari exclaimed, and she turned back to face him in shock at the tone in his voice. Larieken's face showed a mixture of contempt and outrage, shocking for him."You, who wish to be Anla'shok, tell me that you are sorry? What am I to make of this?...are you sorry because you failed to meet me properly in the match? Or are you sorry because of what has happened to those we serve? I thought better of you when first we met, Julia Tikopai...was I wrong to think that? Is it that you do NOT, perhaps, deserve to be Anla'shok, because of this weakness??"
"That's not fair!" she shouted, rage building.
Larieken shook his head, smile mocking. "No, it isn't, but life is never fair, and neither, I am afraid, is the universe. In addition, should I also be concerned that you are here, at your age, doing what you do, what humans ten years older then you will not?? The Vorlons have had a hand in this, or so I understand...given that you are only slightly more then thirteen years old, and yet, appear to have aged closer to *seventeen* years of age is unnatural for your kind, is it not? What can the Vorlons have intended, to produce such a..."
Before she knew it, she had found a weapon banned to her, guarded and protected and carried; but in the rage Larieken had incited, she simply didn't care...she had seen Jennifer use it enough in practice to know *exactly* how it worked. And just as suddenly, her match partner was there, his pike extended, as well.
And then, in clash, and parry, and block, back and forth, was time seen to flee; was her rage controlled, the hopelessness banished...and in due course, she came back to herself. And astonishingly enough, all the leftover angst seemed to be...
Gone.
"Uh...oh." she stopped, and looked down; how much time had passed? The pike still stood open in her hand; light...deadly...inviting, and she shuddered, before looking up into Larieken's grin, now not mocking in the slightest. "Why did you do that, Lareiken? I wasn't supposed to USE this, only guard it!"
The Minbari laughed. "Because what the Sha'vei said wasn't what the Sha'vei *wanted*, Observer."
"Great." she muttered, retracting the pike, as they walked back towards the compound buildings, the match finished. "More riddles...and I want to *become* a Ranger?"
But one thing Lareiken had said rang true...a mysterious and worrying thing she had been trying to put out of her mind, for some time now. It was true that she had quite obviously aged and matured more then she should have, given her age; indeed, the tall, thin wraith of a girl she had been, even the year before, had just about vanished now, replaced by something...almost alien. Was this what Kosh had intended she become, before he died??
She certainly couldn't find out, now...and she wouldn't ask the new Ambassador.
That one was giving Brianna enough problems as it was...
* * *
Nighthawk. The Night of 8-9 Jan, 2261.
I tell no one my name, and live on the edge of this culture, as Nighthawk lives on the edge of the Earth Alliance...cut off now from our home, by President Clark's paranoia.
The Shadows and their minions took advantage of us, I am afraid...and sooner rather then later, those who remain behind, those who will be here when the Vorlons come, will pay the price for their mistake. I have seen their doom in my dreams... nightmare ships in yellow and black beyond count...and I do not intend to be here when that doom descends upon this place.
For I wish to live.
* * *
The Tall Man had gathered a group around him, miners mostly...but worried about the situation their Governors had created; worried enough to want to act, or interested enough in this enigmatic stranger among them, to want to listen to his words and maybe, argue a little.
"I tell you!" the Tall Man insisted, his gaze sharp, "We cannot stay here any longer. Have you not heard the rumours I have heard?...something has happened out in the darkness to make these creatures, these SHADOWS, worried...they scatter their ships far and wide, does this not tell you something??"
"We don't understand what you mean!" one of the miners exclaimed. "Where are you getting your information from, for one thing? As far as we can see, these aliens have only helped us. They've kept the Raiders and the rest off of our backs, and as long as the Inner Worlds stay closed to us by the declaration of Martial law, we need all the help we can get!"
"Is that what you think?" the Tall Man desparingly replied. "Do you honestly believe the situation is that simple? I will tell you a story; a true story, for this has been seen first hand among some of the contacts I have. When these creatures revealed themselves, attacking here and there and everywhere, their fleets moved as one; finally, the Minbari, and some of the rest encountered an enormous fleet of their ships...and partially defeated it. And shortly after that, something happened at their homeworld, out on the Rim...something important."
"Why should we believe you? You say these things...but where's the proof? We haven't heard any of this from those humans who aid our protectors!"
"No, of course you haven't, why would they wish to tell you of such matters? It is more in their best interests to keep us isolated and off balance...and as such, there is only *one* chance for us to escape what is coming; examine the facts, as they are. This mysterious disaster on their homeworld has scattered the Shadows far and wide; black nightmares that they are, they have enemies too...and chief among those enemies are those we know as Vorlons."
"Vorlons?" another miner whispered, his eyes wide. "But I thought they were supposed to be the *good* guys??"
The Tall Man snorted. "Think that if you wish, but we know next to nothing about them, save that their fleets and ships appear only rarely. But when they *do* appear and attack, it is with great strength. I say again, there are Shadow vessels here on Nighthawk!...should the Vorlons decide to attack them, and they are still on the ground when that happens, what do you suppose the result will be for us poor little humans?"
"You don't mean to say?..."
"That is exactly what I mean to say, and exactly the reason we MUST escape from this place, while we still can! Who is with me?" There was a slight pause, and then, more then three quarters of the hands in the room went up, while the rest shook their heads sadly, and turned to leave. The Tall Man sighed in turn. "Fools; they will still be here when the Vorlons come; we, however, will not.
Gather your families...I possess access to a single ground-to-orbit transfer vehicle, and while we will have to make many trips before the dawn, there is enough room in the ship we travel to for you and all your families; and I thank you for your wisdom in joining me to escape this certainly doomed world."
* * *
Hyperspace...
For a short time, the Vorlons, in their Many, witnessed the arrival and subsequent departure of one of the ships they had helped build for the Minbari, and thought nothing of it. The actions that the Minbari and the rest were taking were much too slow, and not thorough enough for their tastes. It nearly always came down to this in the end...sooner or later *their* patience would run out, and then...then, it was merely a matter of unleashing their Companions, small, large...and ENORMOUS, to do their duties.
And these duties were now about to begin. With slow, deadly majesty, the Fleet of the Vorlons split in half, one portion departing for the spatial locale of the world named Arcada VII, the other, to that world on the outer fringes of the Human domain that some named...
Nighthawk.
They would do what they had to, in the name of Order. *This* time, the Enemy would be defeated.
Totally and completely.
There could now be no other way...
* * *
Next: 10 Jan, 2261 packs a hell of a punch, as, more or less simultaneously, Sheridan returns to Babylon 5 with Lorien, William and Jennifer recover from their 'illness', and the world called Nighthawk faces its fate...while William finally realizes what price he must pay for saving Jennifer, at Z'ha'dum. "Commands of the Second Coming" the 3rd part of "The Riders On the Storm" coming soon.