"So what is there to say? I will live or die at his word."
Lord–General Carn Mollari of the Centauri - "My father told me something once: that it was better to look to the future than to stare at the past, better to create our own society than live on memories of what used to be. His brother, on the other hand, was too busy dreaming of the golden age of our people ever to amount to anything.
"Now his brother is the Emperor of the Centauri Republic, his son is their Lord–General, and he died through madness and fire. He and I were never close, but I went to his funeral. It was.... expected by our society. I spoke there, which was also expected.
"And I told his spirit he was wrong. You cannot live for the future if you forget the past. Remember the mistakes of old, and make them right in the now. I've fought too many wars. I don't want to fight any more. I want to go home and serve my Republic and my Emperor, but I'll fight if I have to. Not because there is no other choice, although really there isn't, but because if I don't....
"Then who will?"
Daro of the Drazi - "What to say? Drazi attacked by Shadows, by servants of Shadows. Drazi ships destroyed. Drazi worlds destroyed. Drazi say, we fight back.
"Drazi members of Alliance, for now. While that is so, while Alliance fights Shadows, Drazi fight Shadows.
"Blessed Delenn says this will all be over soon, says no more Drazi will have to die.
"What will Drazi do then? When there is no one to fight, what will Drazi do?"
Flight–lieutenant Neeoma Connally of the Human Race - "Hard to believe I've seen all this, lasted this long, and I'm still alive. Sometimes I get dreams, bad dreams. I can feel them, whispering to me, reaching out for me, but they're just dreams. Show me anyone who doesn't have bad dreams at the moment.
"Oh, I can feel that orb you're carrying by the way. It's buzzing at me.
"Why am I here? Ah.... my father always believed in protecting the little guy, the guy who couldn't look after himself, who needed someone else to do it. He tried to do this by getting them all together, creating unions to stand up to the bullies. All he wanted was what was fair. My mother didn't really understand. She saw him threatened, beaten up. Our house was burned down once. He tried to explain to her, but I don't think she ever really understood.
"I did though. You can't back down from the bullies, because that only makes them stronger. You have to face them down, because all bullies are cowards at heart.
"That's all this is really. Standing up to the bullies. The bullies are just bigger, and there's more of the little guys. I'm going to keep standing up to them as long as possible. That's the thing, see. This will never be over. Oh, this war might, but there are always more bullies.
"It would be nice to have a bit of a rest though. And to stop having those dreams."
General John Sheridan, 'the Shadowkiller' - "Are they hearing all this?"
Ambassador David Sheridan of the Shadows - "Yes, they can hear all this."
General John Sheridan 'the Shadowkiller' - "Good."
* * *
Lorien had not gone far. He had been expecting the Pale and Silent King to return to him in time, and soon enough he was proved right. He usually was.
"Of course not," Lorien replied.
"They are showing you all just what they are. It is a clever move, really. Very clever. They are people now, do you see? They are real people, just as you are. They are explaining their hopes and dreams, and in doing so they are proving themselves your superiors, because you do not have hopes and dreams yourselves.
"Do you not see? You tried to show them heaven. They already know the path there. Not all of them will make it, but they at least know which way to tread.
"They do not need you any longer. If they ever did."
"And still you do not see. They are strong enough without you. If you fight them, then you will truly have lost. Not just the battle, or the war, but you will have lost everything. You fought them to make them stronger, to make them fitter and wiser.
"But listen to them. You have made them everything they can ever be. You have done all you can ever do for them. Already there is one who is your image of perfection. I can feel him moving, and the others.... all living races have heeded your lessons and learned from them. There is nothing more to do for them now. They have learned all you can teach them.
"Fight them.... kill them.... and you ruin all that you have created. You will truly have lost then."
"No, they all do. Most of them merely do not realise it yet. It will be a long and painful road for them, but eventually they will make it, and they will do so by themselves."
"As you were always going to."
"No, you only failed yourselves. And perhaps.... not even that. Continue to listen...."
* * *
As the Pale and Silent King watched, as the entire Shadow race watched, as countless vassal races and peoples watched, as the Eldest being in the galaxy watched, John Sheridan and Delenn of Mir sat down in a room with Ambassador David Sheridan.
"Very clever," Ambassador Sheridan said. He was wheezing loudly, but there was still a smile on his face. "Very clever. You learned well, John."
"It wasn't all my idea," John replied. "A lot of it was Delenn's." Ambassador Sheridan looked at her, and saw a hint of concern in her green eyes.
"The time for war is over," Delenn said softly. "We have fought too long, and where has it brought us? You have lost, and you know it. Why continue to fight?"
"What else is there? No.... you're right. We don't want to fight. None of us does. But.... you can't understand. They are an ancient race. They took on a noble goal thousands of years ago. They believed in it. They really did. And now....
"It's hard to admit your children no longer need you."
"We do understand," Delenn said. "We have learned a lot. We will take what you have taught us, and we will remember. We will not forget. We may even come to forgive. For myself, I forgive you all. For the others....
"You have seen who they are. You have heard them speak. There are countless others, and they all have their own dreams. They have families, loved ones. They are real people, not pawns for you to move around. There are countless more here for you to meet and talk to.
"Do you really want to kill them? They are the people you tried to create all along. You have achieved your goal. End this, and be proud."
"No," Ambassador Sheridan said, shaking his head. "We're not proud. None of us is. We made a mistake, far too many mistakes. But what else is there left for us? To live on forever knowing we aren't needed any more? To know always that we lost and.... they won!"
"There's no shame in admitting you're wrong," John said, and his father started. "There is only shame in knowing you are wrong, and carrying on regardless.
"You taught me that."
"I know. Ah, Lord help me, I know."
* * *
"Now do you see? Now do you understand?"
"The others have gone Beyond the Rim. There are whole new worlds and galaxies and wonders to explore. You stayed behind. It was for a noble purpose, but that purpose is over.
"Go. Go and catch up with them all."
"Not yet, no. I still have my duties to attend here."
"Yes. You have learned now what you needed to learn. They have not. Someone now needs to teach them. They need to understand."
"When they understand? Then we will leave. All of us. All those who stayed behind. We will pass this gala
xy on to those who will follow, and we will hope they will have learned enough to do the same when their time comes. All things are a cycle."
"I do not think you will have to wait long."
* * *
Ambassador Sheridan straightened suddenly, and sighed. "It's over. We're leaving."
"Leaving?" John asked.
"Yes. They're going beyond the Rim, leaving this galaxy for good. It's the only way. We can't stay behind, not knowing we've lost like this. You've.... reminded us all what we stood for once."
"What's going to happen to you, Dad?"
"The same thing that happens to us all. I'm going to die." He suddenly stopped, and cocked his head. A light flashed behind his eyes and he smiled, the shocked, euphoric smile of a poor sinner who has just found his way into heaven after all. "They're going to take me with them," he breathed. "They're taking me with them. I'm.... I'm going to see another galaxy!"
John smiled. "That's...." He swallowed. "I'll miss you, Dad."
"Not for long, John. I have.... a feeling you'll be joining us there eventually." He looked at Delenn. "Both of you."
She smiled.
"What are you going to do now, John?" he asked. "What next?"
"Rebuild, I suppose," he said. "Find a new cause, a new dream. Make right everything that once went wrong."
"Remember us, please. We.... we did a lot of terrible things, awful things, but we did some good as well. We tried to do good. When you do remember us.... please remember the good as well as the bad."
"We will," Delenn said.
He looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "For everything I did, for everything we did.... I'm sorry. I just want to let you know.... I'd be proud to have you as a daughter–in–law. Very proud."
He looked at John. "I'll be meeting up with your Mum out there. Lizzy too. And Anna. All of them. They've been waiting for me. We'll all be waiting for you.
"John.... take care."
"I will, Dad."
The two men embraced.
* * *
Words spoken by thought, words spoken faster than light.
- Should we not warn them about the Vorlons? The balance will be broken.
- No. This is our fight no longer.
(Pause)
- Besides, in a very real sense, they have already been warned. The messenger is out there. Our faith in him will not be misplaced.
* * *
Z'ha'dum, the world formerly asleep, now wakened, made to sleep once more.
From his place overlooking the great fissure, the Pale and Silent King commanded the recall of all Shadow ships, of all vassal races. All who wanted would go Beyond the Rim with them. The Drakh, ever ready to serve their Dark Masters, agreed to do so in the next galaxy as readily as they had in this. Some, like the Zarqheba and the Z'shailyl, wished to stay, and this was granted. The Shadows had no power in this galaxy any longer.
Technology was taken quickly from hiding places millennia old. Some caches were inevitably forgotten, but that was no longer an issue the Shadows concerned themselves with.
And they assembled, one by one, shimmering in space above their homeworld, now lost to them forever.
They waited on just one of their number.
"No. I have a duty here. Remember me, though. I will join you eventually."
"I know. I have been proud to know you all. Do not think of this as a failure. In a very real way, for you, this is a victory."
The Pale and Silent King ascended to his personal flagship, surrounded by the Heart Guards and the Seers of Stars, and he led the Shadow race to the next galaxy.
Among their number, beside the Drakh and the Zener and their servants and emissaries and agents, David Sheridan looked down at the Alliance fleet.
"I am proud of you, son," he whispered. "I'll always be proud of you."
Then they left.
* * *
But first, there was one final conversation.
"It is over."
"Yes, it is over."
"You have won."
"Yes, we have won."
"Enjoy your victory. We will be waiting for you."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you to understand."
* * *
"So, that's a victory, hmm?" John said to himself, as the last ship left.
"The best type," Delenn said. "No one is dead, and we are all.... wiser. We have all learned something."
"So.... I think Dad said it best. What now?"
"We take control of Z'ha'dum. We will have to stop anyone stealing technology from it. We will have to bring all the races together, make sure all the wars are truly over. We have to keep the Alliance safe and secure and build a true foundation for the future.
"But first.... we can go home."
John Sheridan smiled. "Good idea."
Part 8 : Meditations and Introspections.
Thus ends the Shadow War, and thus begins the great peace, but it is a peace built on sacrifice and bloodshed and lies. The terrible toll of the war is beginning to tear some apart, while others are already preparing for the future. Sinoval has three most unexpected meetings. David Corwin learns something about love and loss. Talia Winters makes a terrible discovery. And the Vorlons meet with the Eldest for the first time in a millennium.
All most of us have ever known is how to fight. Now.... we're going to have to learn something much harder. How to live.
Captain David Corwin.
* * *
And at last, after all these years, it was over. Not just one war, but all of them. All wars. All the wars that had been, that would ever be. They were all over.
The Shadows had gone, departed for a new life beyond the Rim. Z'ha'dum was a safe world now, one that would never again threaten the younger races of the galaxy. From far above the grim and dead planet, Vorlon ships waited, guarding the world, preventing anything from coming.... or going.
The Narn / Centauri War was over. Both races were now members of the United Alliance. Both races had ambassadors on Kazomi 7. The peace treaty had been signed. The borders had been fixed. Both armies would return home.
Above all, there was the Alliance. The United Alliance of Kazomi 7, protector of the galaxy, led by the Blessed Delenn and kept safe by the Dark Star fleet and their renowned General John Sheridan, the Shadowkiller.
The wars were over. All that remained was a little mopping up.
* * *
She had had a name once. A name that she sometimes still remembered, a name she sometimes heard in conversation. Her Captain spoke it to her often. She knew his name. David Corwin. He knew her name, but when he was not aboard her, she did not.
She was the essence of the Dark Star 3. The Agamemnon, one of the few ships of the Dark Star fleet to have a name. A name. It was not her name. It was the ship's name. There was a confusing separation there. Her name was not Agamemnon, she knew that, but it was the name of the ship.
Somehow, on some level, she was beginning to recognise that she and the ship were not one and the same. That spoke against everything, but when he was here, it made sense.
He was not here now. She could feel him, but not talk to him. He had been called away on a matter of some urgency. He was an important man, with many responsibilities.
Captain David Corwin. She knew his name. Once she had known her own, but the light had come, and had grown stronger and stronger. There had been screams within the light, and some of them she had been able to identify. Some of them she had even been able to name.
But now all the screams were becoming one. The network was consolidating. Those newly brought into it were losing their identities, their names, their faces.
She still had hers. A little. She had a name. She knew at least that much. She even knew someone who knew it.
The screaming
all stopped, and there was silence. Total and utter silence. She looked around, seeing nothing but darkness.
"Captain," she said. "Are you there?"
She knew that voice. It was the voice of God. He was talking to her, His voice echoing throughout the silence.
She meant to ask something, perhaps what was going to happen to her, perhaps what her name was, but she never had the chance. The light returned, brighter and more powerful than before, and it scourged everything from her, memory, mind and soul.
She died, in a sense, never recalling that her name had once been Carolyn Sanderson. In another, more real sense, she would be alive forever, with only the dark and silent void to mask her own screams.
* * *
It was a ship only of the dead, a place where a man who had striven all his life for greatness had faced his end, screaming to the heavens in defiance, promising revenge, pleading for mercy. It was a ship where the Enemy had sent one of their darkest, oldest and most powerful minions to destroy someone they had only ever seen as a tool.
It was the place where Sonovar had died.
The ship had been left where it was, a ghost ship to give rise to myth and legend. Maybe, in decades to come, young warriors would search for it, seeking it out as wanderers sought the Holy Grail, the Sathra Stone, the lost worlds of the First Ones and other legends.
He knew of the legends that would come, that Sonovar was not truly dead, that he would return when the time was right. His creed, wrought of inferiority and near–insanity, would rise again, and others would follow in his footsteps, dreaming of the day when Sonovar the Great would return.
So be it. The Minbari now carried their own destiny. Let them dream of lost heroes. That was their place. Besides, in one respect, they would be right. Sonovar was not dead.
Somewhere, in a wall in one of the oldest space–faring vessels in the galaxy, was a globe, within which raged a spirit, cursing the denial of his chance at reincarnation.
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