("Dark Circle" Part 12)

Writer's Note: While taking a break from my regular characters, this is a side avenue that deserved to be explored. William, Jennifer, Julia and the rest will return, full bore, in Part 13, but for now, a look into the history of something I have mentioned, time to time, from the beginning of this saga seemed in order. A something called the Book of the Observer. All five parts of this one are a lot shorter then usual, but this tends to write itself, sometimes...

And an answer to Julia's question at the end of Part 11 is also, along the way, handed out...

		RIMSTALKER: DARK CIRCLE; PART 12
		"A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" ACT I OF V

** 'The fear of truth, the fear of the circle, the fire of undoing, the wastes of destiny, they are ALL one and the same' **

- from The Book of the Observer

* * *

        Late August of the Earth Year 3265. North America, the Western Mountains...early morning.

        It was an ideal place, Cornelius decided, that the Abbey had been built in, so few years before. This valley had drained the mountains to the west for thousands of years, and would continue as such for thousands more.

        It was a distinctive spot; the knoll upon which the Abbey stood was between the river and a small, but distinctive mountain directly to the south, called, by some, The Rock of the Partridge. Cornelius did not, as such, understand how the name had come to be..perhaps, due to the long spine of rock that trailed, like a tail, northwest-wards from the main peak...but that name had been passed down, evidently, for dozens if not hundreds of generations.

        Beyond that Rock, an impressive sheer face stood guard on the northern reaches of the next Range in, and the Northern Wall, of course, mostly blocked the view inwards on the other side of the valley. More impressive mountains stood farther in, beyond these Front Ranges, but the time for appreciation of the beauty around him was now past.

        There was, as always, work to be done, in his calling. Both open, and not so open.

        He cast his gaze to the base of the hill, and as expected, noted the approach of the party of students who had been coming for some days now from the small cities of S'Wood and Ge'ary on the Western plains below the foothills. They had come, or so it had been said, to Learn; to discuss the meanings of the Books passed down to them from the time of the Great Burn, and to understand the council those Books provided.

        All too soon, the group stood before him, and Cornelius stroked his short, silvering beard thoughtfully before stepping off the sacred wood of his home to greet the newcomers. "A long journey it has been, Matthew; but I see your resolve to bring back followers has succeeded."

        "It is indeed a long and lonely trek to this place, Father, but between the Mountains and the Sky, as I said we would, we have come; come to gain wisdom from you, come to discuss the words of the Blessed Sheridan and Delenn the Wise."

        "Ah, my son, but do not forget.." Cornelius chided, as the group followed him inside, some grinning obviously at the wordplay, "They are the most important and noticable of the Books, but so many of us, of our flocks, indeed, forget the less important but never forgotten texts available to us."

        Matthew grimaced, while the younger men snickered behind. "I will assume, Father, that you refer, as you always do, to the Book of the Observer."

        "Indeed; while the tomes you mention are the most important of all, the lesser Texts should not be forgotten, and chief among *them* is THE Book of the Observer. Must I convince you again, Matthew, or do you do this in the sheer necessity of performing your duty for your companions?"

        Matthew now smiled, as well. "Perhaps a little bit of both, Father, and perhaps I jest with you too much. However, my companions, while familiar with the Greater Works, are as yet, unfamiliar with the Lesser...they are far less common in the cities, you must understand, and as such, they have followed me here, to learn, and to discuss those learnings, so we may all gain further insight into the wisdom of the Books that are."

        "Ah..." Cornelius replied, his eyes twinkling. "I see that you have not lost your way with words, Matthew; for now, however, despite your ardent wish to immediately begin arguing with me, I deem it prudent that we leave off the matter for the remainder of the afternoon, and reconvene after the evening meal. At that point, we will all be rested, and our energies revived. Do you not agree??"

        Matthew nodded, his expression amused. "It shall be as you wish, Father."

* * *

        That evening...

        The fire blazed in the hearth, backlighting Cornelius's graying hair, as Matthew took his seat, a small glass of wine in hand. Beyond, an enormous window (how much could that glass have cost?...such things were rare nowadays, even in the greater houses of the cities) allowed a view out towards the Rock of the Partridge, looming in the fading light to the south. A gusting wind shook the window, and Matthew sighed. The Histories showed that before the Great Burn, when machines had ruled the Earth, the weather had been warmer. Now, he would not be surprised to see the mountains silvered with snow before they departed from this place.

        "You have all..." Cornelius declared, his gaze now level and authoritative, "Come to this place, because you allowed young Matthew, here, to convince you that there were things learnable only after, for some of you, a long and lonely trek. But I shall try and convince you all that it was worth it; and before you leave, you shall have full opportunity to study what we call the Lesser Books...the Book of Borealis, the Book of Fire, and, chief among all three, the Book of the Observer."

        "What, persay.." one of the listeners inquired, his gaze sharp, "Can we learn from these near-forgotten works that we cannot learn from the Primaries, those that have guided us since the Dark Times?? Before Matthew approached me, asking me to come with him on this tiring trek, I had only heard rumour of the Books you describe. Why are they so important to you??"

        "Why indeed??" Cornelius replied, his gaze open, and wondering. "Why would I go to all the effort, Rodric, spending several years of my life building an abbey dedicated to the Lesser Tomes? *I* know the answers to those questions, my son, but you, as of yet, do not. That is why you have come...to listen, to learn, to ask questions, not the questions that the greater Books have answered for you, but the Lesser Ones...the questions that spend all their time hiding in between the moments."

        Cornelius reached out, and picked up a book, cover done all in black, save for a sigil of silver, a star overlain onto a circle. "I ask you all to listen carefully to these words, for they are, in many respects, far less clear then those you are familiar with. But they tell a very important tale, my friends...a very important tale indeed."

        "And we are to start where?" Rodric inquired, his gaze ironic.

        "Where you would suppose.." Cornelius replied, a smile crinkling his face. "At the beginning."

        Continued next part...

		RIMSTALKER:DARK CIRCLE; PART 12
		"A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" ACT II OF V

* * *

ONE...THE WAY THAT WORDS ARE WRITTEN...

* * *

"Where did it all start, do you think?"

"Here."

* * *

        Summer, Earth Year 2350...Sukoiya Alliance Publishing Corporation, Mars.

        The meeting that ensued that day was not momentous on the scale of what was, but very important on the scale of what would be.

        The scene was not distinctive, but very telling that morning. Richard Courvoisier, the managing publisher of Sukoiya Alliance, sat alone in his desk, the great glass window of Sukoiya Dome behind, his expression pensive. That window had been built following the chaos of the Telepath War, and had survived every crisis since then. Would it survive the crises still to come? Courvoisier could not answer that question, and would not try...but for now, there were difficult choices to make.

        The situation, as it stood, was this: every war that had ever happened in the memories of recent Man had been examined and cross-examined by a multitude of researchers, historians and other interested parties, and the series of wars that had flamed throughout the previous century had been no different. The Earth-Minbari, Shadow, Telepath and Drakh Wars had each damaged Earth and its satelite worlds in different ways and fashions, and the recorded histories of those conflicts told stories about the people that had fought in them.

        In the four decades in which those wars happened, a great many writers and historians had put forth their versions of what had happened, and, every one was different, in some respects. Sukoiya Alliance had managed, in the early years of its existence, to sign a great many of those writers to publishing through their system, and as such, enormous profit had arisen in the first fifty years after the end of the Drakh War, as the interested public, Alliance-wide, who had not lived through those wars had learned the stories of what had happened...and why.

        Indeed, entire generations had grown up reading the writings of Amanda Zefram Teague, Jennifer Clifford, and others...the stories told of John Sheridan, William Westcastle, and all the rest...but the problem that always arose in these situations was beginning to become clearer. As time faded the harshness of war into distant memories, and those who had fought the battles grew old and died, the interest in the Wars had dimmed, and profits had dropped. Courvoisier sighed; it ws unfortunate, but had happened before, and would certainly happen again. Now, the time had come to decide which works would survive the winnowing of published works, and which would be consigned to history.

        The doors on the far wall opened, and two people entered, a man and a woman. Courvoisier nodded intently; the publishing staff had, as he suspected, decided to send the representatives expected...many of the decisions, it seemed, had already been made.

        "Good morning, sir."

        "I think we can argue, that the morning is not good at all, Keynes. The time has come for us to decide which of our catalogued works will continue their publishing run, and which will not, and a great majority of those in question come from the Conflictive History section, as you no doubt realize."

        Keynes nodded. "It is, I suppose time to determine exactly how revelant those works are anymore to Sukoiya's prime interests. Many of them exist, Alliance-wide, in their millions, and our publishing mediums will ensure that they survive for several centuries, at least."

        "Precisely." Courvoisier decided to come to the point. "The Board of Directors has demanded that we stop production on any non-revelant works; as such, have you and Miss Vellant come to a decision on which catalogue items shall be included in this category?"

        "We have, sir."

        Keynes passed a crystal across the table, and Courvoisier quickly insterted it in his desk terminal, and read the list there displayed. An expression of regret quickly passed across his face, then, decisiveness returned. "So; it is as I suspected; well written as they are, the staff has decided to, among others, suspend production on the works of Teague, Clifford and Tikopai?"

        "Yes, sir; the time has come where the interests of the company must overrule the power of their written words."

        Courvoisier nodded. "Very well; I will pass this recommendation up to the Board, and they will, no doubt, approve them in due course. Thank you for your assistance, Keynes, Miss Vellant. You are dismissed."

* * *

        "It is as we feared; they have cancelled production."

        "Keynes, this is intolerable!! The works of Clifford and Tikopai, especially, should have survived your damn winnowing!!"

        "My job is important enough to me that I do not wish to lose it, but cease your thoughtless rages, while I was forced to agree with the staff decision, that does not mean that all is lost...now we will have to take action, as was planned."

        "Can it still be done?"

        "Of course; there are enough, already, who believe, to ensure that the Society of the Observers protects those works, and ensures their survival, in the decades and, we can hope, centuries to come. It is the nature of Man to fight war and change histories to suit the present, but as long as the Society survives, the works of the Observers will never, I assure you, be forgotten."

        "The future will tell, Keynes, whether or not you are right."

        Later on, after the others had left, Keynes drew open the draw of his nightside table, and removed the silver and jade badge that lay within.

        "Valen willing..." the Ranger whispered, "We will not have to leave it to fate."

* * *

"So that is where it started!"

"Precisely; now see what came next..."

* * *

Continued next part...

		RIMSTALKER: DARK CIRCLE; PART 12
		"A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" ACT III OF V

* * *

TWO: THE SACRIFICES MADE..

* * *

        "You were right, of course; these records are just as telling about our past as the others, those that he has gone to Earth to examine, to watch, before the End. He will be surprised, and pleased, to find that more such exist."

        "Yes, but for now, we must continue."

        "Agreed!..what became of this 'Society of the Observer'?"

        A smile. "Watch closely."

* * *

        Autumn, the Earth Year 2800; the Island of Great Britain...37 years after the Great Burn.

        "The weather improves.." Boyle commented, his eyes upon the gray clouds outside the window, itself veined with cracks, litany of the past that was. Maybe, the sun would actually come out today..

        "All too slowly, my young friend.." Geoffrey replied with a sigh, as the kettle began to come to a boil nearby. "All too slowly. Thirty-odd years it has been now; years of starvation and cold for Those that stayed Behind. I can hardly remember what it was like before..and now, even though, among the Society, we have rebuilt to an enviable degree, there are still too many who live in the ruins like rats, fighting amongst themselves for the scraps they can steal."

        Boyle snorted. "Those among us who have reverted to farming, who planned to do this from the beginning, are the ones who will survive. In due course, we may rise above that level, and begin to build the cities again...but I suspect, friend, that time will come long after we have both passed beyond the Veil, to join Those who have Gone Before Us."

        "Quite so; the Society saw this coming as much as a hundred years ago, and planned for it; as such, our current standing is related to that foresight."

        "Yes; and in the end, the Written Word and the Spoken Truth will survive, because of what was done. No one bothers us here, and so, the work will continue, until the Book is finished...and the end purpose the Society intended from the very beginning can be allowed to come to pass."

        "And do you believe that time will be soon??"

        Boyle reached inside his long cloak, and withdrew a sheef of papers. "Read this, and decide for yourself."

        Geoffrey received the sheef with some trepidation, and sat down upon the oak chair he had built himself, in his youth, before the war, before so much was lost, and began to read...

        "And it was so, beyond the years of Fire, that the Observer spoke down to her first Disciple, Keynes, and the Word passed on amongst the masses; that which was seen had been written, that which was purposeful had been accomplished, but that which was feared had also come to pass. Not to stand above the Greater, but beside and beneath, to tell the story that was not, to reveal the Side that was hidden. And Keynes saw that this was so, and was glad of it, and of the approval of the Observer, and gave thanks..."

        Geoffrey dropped the papers onto his lap, and allowed himself to smile. "That, I will assume, is only the, ah, shall we say, initial version...but if it all goes like that, Boyle, then yes, I can accept that the Finality of what we try will be allowed to come to pass."

        "The Society believes that the Work, as it is, will be finished sometime in the next year or two...and then..." Boyle's gaze grew contemplative, and he looked out on the rocky desolation outside, and sighed. "The Book will, with diligence, spread, survive, and become part of what will be."

        "After all we achieved as a race in the years since the Darkness was defeated... surviving the wars, maintaining the Alliance, aiding those who aided US in secret, that we should descend to fighting a war that could do THIS." Geoffrey shook his head sadly. "Such a waste...so much lost. You understand, of course, how long it will take for Those that Remain to find that again?"

        "Yes, of course I do!...but the Book, amongst the Rest, WILL maintain the continuity that we, ah, shall I say, all need. A hundred years from now, no one outside the Society will remember how this began...three hundred years from now, the Society ITSELF will have been forgotten, and only the Book will remain. And beyond?...well, I suspect, humans being what we are, that a religion of some sort will arise around the Books. That, in itself, will be enough to say that the Observers, and the Others, succeeded in their mission, will it not?"

        "We shall have to see." At that point, the whining of the kettle announced what they had both been waiting for. "Ah!!" Geoffrey rose, and with purposeful step, moved to the boiling kettle. "Would you care for tea? I'm afraid it is not up to the excellence of that we enjoyed in our youth, but that, I fear, will never be recaptured again.."

        "Enough, my friend!" Boyle declared, as outside, a light, cold rain began to fall. "On in this day, in this age, any comfort helps."

* * *

        Personal Diary of Brother Boyle McCaffrey, on the fortieth day of the year of our Lord Two Thousand Eight Hundred and Thirty One...

        He was right, of course.

        All the comments Brother Geoffrey made that day, so many years ago, may he forever rest in peace, reflect on what we have brought to pass. The ruins decay, and time passes on; memories grow dimmer, and time passes on, and the Book, the Book that our Society invested so much work in, kept so many secrets to protect, and gave up so many lives to bring to fruition, now, along with the Others, has begun to spread among the masses like the Fire it must be.

        Hundreds of years ago, the Observer, or Observers, whichever it may be, for I can no longer recall, wrote down the Words that Are, and gave us back a portion of the future. I do not doubt that was not her intention, but that is what has resulted. The Great War of the Shadow may be long gone, but She stands still, through her work, to fight the shadows that, even now, remain among us.

        That, I believe, is the greatest gift She could have given us.

        And because of it, perhaps we will survive the Dark age to come, and when the Rangers return from the skies, after we have redeemed ourselves in their eyes, Her words will stand among us still.

        I know it.

* * *

        "More and more interesting."

        "Yes; do you think that when these Observers, Clifford and Tikopai, wrote down what they did, that they thought it would come to this point??"

        "You can say the same about any of the Other Books we know of from that time. An example you will understand..."

        "The Book of the Blessed Sheridan??" the Other replied, his smile slight.

        "Precisely."

        "Very well, then, are we finished here?"

        "Not quite. Watch on..."

* * *

Continued next part...

* * *

		RIMSTALKER: DARK CIRCLE; PART 12
		"A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" ACT IV OF V

**"Protect the One who Comes to haunt you; protect the Follower as she was protected, Save the Youngster who strides in your footsteps, and find the redemption you so deserve."**

- From the Book of the Observer

* * *

THREE: THE YOUNGSTER FOLLOWS CLOSELY.

* * *

        "Ah...I see that we begin to cycle back to the beginning of this tale, then."

        "Perhaps; after another score of centuries, they had nearly forgotten us, and descended, as Geoffrey and Boyle suggested, to religions based partly upon the Books, as so written."

        "Indeed; and while conditions, as we can certainly understand, were not good, things were, it seems, beginning to improve. Those that We Were had begun to help in secret, contacting the Brothers of the Books across the world to aide Those who were Left Behind.

        And in amongst this task, there was still opportunity to hold out a helping hand to those who needed it, the most..."

* * *

        The Earth Year 3225; North America, the Northwest; the city of Ge'ahry... Spring.

        This had, Victor decided, probably always been a crossroad in this part of the world. At the confluence of two rivers, with the plains behind it, and the mountains in front. And while settlements in the dense forests to the west continued to be sparse, and fighting amongst the city-nations continued to be a problem (hence, Ge'ahry's thick, high stone walls) as time passed, things continued to get better. This time, maybe they would succeed; the ruins of the enormous ancient city beneath Ge'ahry suggested what would happen if they did not.

        That this was PARTLY due to the efforts of he and his fellow..ah, what was the best word?...Brothers was something Victor had sworn, before the Sha'vei no'Raden Elders, to keep to himself. With a sigh, he decided it was probably time to re-read sections of the book before the sermon. There was never enough time..

        It was then that Victor heard the shouting and raw noise outside, and taking hold of a stout cudgel, went to investigate. Throwing the door open, he found a young boy, dirty and scratched as many of the street people were, being beaten by a small group of others his age. With a shout, he strode into the fray, and quickly dispersed the gang, who, with a startled glance, faded from sight. Perhaps, they were unused to seeing one of the Robe doing such a thing; no matter, this boy obviously needed help, and the Words of the Observer and the Blessed Sheridan were clear on such matters.

        The boy's eyes fluttered open...Victor decided that he would have bruises to deal with for perhaps a week, or so. "If you were looking for help, boy, perhaps you have come to the right place."

        The boy's eyes widened. "Father! I meant no disrespect..."

        "Come now." Victor chided, "None of that; follow me indoors, and we will decide what to do with you."

        The doors closed behind, and soon after, once clean and full of food and hot drink, the boy was sufficiently revived to look around with interest. "Your gaze suggests that you have not strayed inside to learn from the Books for some time..." Victor commented, his gaze direct. "Is this so?"

        "Surviving on the street didn't...well, leave much time for that, Father, it was difficult enough to survive. I barely learned how to read as it was."

        "I see...?"

        "Cornelius. My name is Cornelius."

        "Well now! To be saddled with such a name; ah well, but you shall survive, I'm sure. Very well, then, Cornelius...I shall give you this." and with a practiced grab, Victor removed one of his precious books from its hiding place, "Read it CAREFULLY, mind you, and after you have finished, tell me what you have learned."

        "Must I?" the boy, Cornelius, asked, his face screwed up.

        "Consider it a repayment for saving your life, boy." Victor replied caustically. "Be glad I do not expect more from you, for now."

        "Yes, Father." With that, Cornelius opened the book...which happened, of course, to be Victor's copy of the Book of the Observer. If he couldn't learn anything from THAT, there was little hope...

* * *

Personal Diary of Father Victor Leahy.

Six months he has been with me now, and shows no sign of leaving; all this, I believe, began after his first reading of the Book I gave him. Perhaps the change will be permament, and if so...then I may, at last, have found someone to follow in my footsteps.

* * *

        I am Cornelius of Ge'ahry...now BROTHER Cornelius, I can call myself, and the secrets I have learned in the last fifteen years have changed my life beyond recognition. What Victor gave me, I will, in due course, give back to those to Come Behind Us, to continue the work that Is. Those who Stayed Behind, of which I once was one, unknowing and naïve, need our help, until we have redeemed ourselves enough for the Return.

        That time is not yet, and as such, I have a great deal of work to do.

        I hope, no, I pray, that I have now paid back Victor's favour, that he gave to me so many years ago.

* * *

        "She must have KNOWN the power her words would eventually have!"

        A smile. "Perhaps."

        The Younger ruefully nodded. "I see there is one more record to examine..."

        "Yes, if short..."

* * *

To be concluded...

		RIMSTALKER: DARK CIRCLE; PART 12
		"A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS" ACT V OF V

**"To speak of the wait is to speak of the Darkness behind us; to learn of the secrets is to live in all three forms. To practice unyielding, is to know the final result, and to live between the moments is to know that the RULES CAN BE CHANGED."**

- From the Book of the Observer

* * *

        September, 3265; The Abbey of the Observer...midday.

        "It is as I said, was it not?" Cornelius inquired, as nearby, Matthew reclined nonchalantly against a tree behind the head of the knoll. "Bring them, and change their lives. The Book of the Observer has changed all of us in ways both visible and not; myself, most of all. I was worse then lost when Father Victor Leahy dragged me off the streets of Ge'ary forty years ago, and what he taught me brought me first wisdom, and then the courage to attempt what many thought to be impossible."

        "You built this place by yourself.." Matthew stated, his expression part amazement and part appreciation, "Because you were taught that, by the Book that teaches us all. They thought they knew everything there was to know, and they were, of course, wrong. I will once again thank you, Cornelius, for all that you have done, not only for me, but for those that followed me here...and those that, I hope, will join you in this place in the years to come."

        Cornelius smiled. "I have been paying back my debt to the Book for the greater part of my life, Matthew, and as long as I live, that repayment will continue. If I have managed to change lives, most of all that fool Rodric, to a better pattern, to a calmer way, then we will, in some small fashion, have succeeded in our mission." The monk's expression grew pensive. "Sooner or later, it will happen, you know; for nearly five hundred years, we have kept the faith with the people of Earth, but they advance now, to the point where a Change is coming, a change, Matthew, that you may live to see in your lifetime."

        "What do you mean, Father? What change?"

        "I cannot say, for I do not know how it will happen, only that it will. It may approach us from behind, and catch us unawares, we may not be ready for it, and the *people* certainly will not, but when it happens.." Cornelius chuckled. "When it happens, I suspect that those who follow OUR Book will be better prepared then many of the rest."

        Matthew's expression showed that he was not happy with those statements, but the young cleric immediately put the best face on the matter. "The future will tell, Father, whether or not you are right; but for now, we have a long journey to begin if we are to return to our homes and our cities. And so, I must join my companions at the base of the hill, and bid you farewell, Father. The time here has been..illuminating."

        Cornelius nodded. "To us all, my son. Farewell, and Godspeed to you all."

* * *

        The sun shifted, and eventually, sank beneath the Western Mountains, briefly catching on the Mountains of the Cross, outlining the Pyramid in fire, before vanishing. The Supper hour passed, and Nightfall brought the myriad stars, and still Cornelius sat, the glow of his home behind him, his expression patient and waiting. And eventually, the matter he had been waiting on occurred.

        Overhead, a whispering sound alerted him, and a faint violet glow against the stars, outlining the dark form far overhead. Cornelius smiled, as the bottom of that form opened up into an iris, and a glow sprang into being, outlining a circle on the hillside nearby. A figure quickly sank through the glow, and reaching the ground, sprang out. The figure was all in black, with one, and only one, distinctive sigil on his clothes...

        The badge of silver and jade on his right breast.

        Cornelius rose, and bowed. "Sha'vei Aronic; it is a pleasure, indeed a pleasure, to meet you again. May I ask what brings you here this night of nights?"

        Aronic smiled. "My visits are not as common as I would wish, Cornelius; but that may yet change."

* * *

"A rare pleasure; do you think HE will find these records useful??"

The Elder paused, his thoughts both pleased and satisfied at the outcome. "I would say, so, YES...I would *definitely* say so."

* * *

        Mid August, 2260. The Valley of Sorrows, Minbar...before dawn.

        The Words still echoed with her, even after all the readings, and Julia, finding herself, finally, very near sleep at last, carefully placed the letter on the nightstand beside her. It explained everything, but the letter did not reveal what HE must have gone through to reach that place...the trip back through time, leaving behind all he was and knew for the unknown...but in the knowledge that he would succeed, that in that time he would see the Shadows defeated.

        That the Shadows were *not* defeated in his time of origin was something he could not hope to control. That was up to what he had helped create, the Anla'shok of the present, to act on. Julia fuzzily decided that she would have to write on this, and if the Shadows were at *last* defeated, to warn the generations to come, to make SURE this never happened again.

        Her last thought before sleep claimed her, was that if Jeffrey Sinclair's writings could survive a thousand years to reach her, then there was the slim possibility that her writings could, just maybe, do the same...

        She was, after all, an Observer. That had to be important!

* * *

Next: As the Army of Light plays a waiting game, and the Shadows continue their random strikes across known space, Julia spends the Fall of 2260, amidst her training, on writing a letter to her mother..a letter that reaches Bethany only a few weeks before all hell breaks loose! The date?? Nov 15, 2260. The Name? "The Wait of the Watched" the 13th part of 'Dark Circle' coming VERY soon to a screen near you..

(P.S..yes indeedy, I decided, like JMS, to skip a great chunk of the year here...if only to really speed up the arc. All too soon, it will be time for the <Z-> timeperiod, and guess what, those two weeks won't be any easier on my characters then they were on JMS's. Stay tuned, folks!! DGG)

* * *

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