The Other Half of my Soul addm-1

by Gareth D. Williams

  “She has a Vorlon inside her.”

  The Shadows knew this too. And they were angry.

  * * * * * * *

  Mr. Welles was a quiet man, and unflappable, skills which had served him well in the past. He had a knack for blending in so that he was seldom noticed, unless he chose to be. And he had a photographic memory, all talents that he knew well how to use.

  His official title was Chief Warrant Officer and Head of Security. His unofficial title was Spymaster General. He listened, he watched, he observed and he remembered.

  His last important task had been the interrogation of Satai Delenn. He had been doing well, until Captain Sheridan had taken her away. Welles had tried to object, but he didn’t mind really. He was patient.

  To all things, there is a time.

  At present, he was watching Clark bandy words with Bester. He didn’t like telepaths – their abilities made a mockery of his work – but he had learned to use them. He had been studying Bester for over an hour and his mind had tallied a great deal of information.

  Short, but acts as though he were taller. Acts as though his height doesn’t bother him, but it still rankles. Psi Cop or not, he’s still human, with all a human’s weaknesses.

  Doesn’t use his left hand. An affectation or a disability? Connected to his height, perhaps? Birth deformity? Check details, may have other infirmities. Possible weapons.

  Still wears Psi Cop uniform. Why? Psi Corps destroyed with Earth. Gloves serve practical purpose. Badge and uniform do not. Engender fear, perhaps? A constant reminder of what he is? What he can do? Reminder to whom? Himself – or others?

  And on and on. Voice, stance, actions, words. Welles recorded it all, for later use. But he was growing increasingly distracted.

  Clark was acting differently, and had been doing so for a while. It was nothing solid that Welles could identify, but it was there, and it was unknown, and it was irritating him that he couldn’t spot the source.

  The door opened and a security guard ushered someone in. Welles noted the guard. It was Boggs. A good man. Efficient. Dedicated. Did what needed to be done.

  He turned his attention to the newcomer. Lyta Alexander. Telepath. Sixth generation. P5. Height. Weight. Age. A number of reprimands for inappropriate use of psi-powers. Had formed liaison with Sheridan’s bodyguard, who was now serving as Lieutenant Ivanova’s aide. Had helped in his interrogation of Satai Delenn.

  “Ah, Miss Alexander,” Bester said. “A pleasure as always. You’ve been keeping well, I trust.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied. Too quick. Too nervous. Has something to hide from her superior. What? Liaison with Cole? Usage of psi-powers? Something else?

  Her Psi Corps badge is crooked. A sign, perhaps, of slipping allegiances.

  “We will have to talk later in private,” Bester said. Then he turned to Welles himself. “Many thanks for the transcripts of your interrogation of Satai Delenn. I was wondering however, why they stopped so abruptly.”

  Surprise question. Out of the blue? Trying to find something? “Captain Sheridan felt that Satai Delenn would be better off kept aboard the Babylon, for security reasons.”

  “What about the ships we asked for?” Hague said, and Welles looked at him. No subtlety. No guile. An honest man among politicians. An honest man whose honesty is destroying him. He’s not sure about our new allies. He’s the only one in this room who’s faced down Minbari in battle. He knows what they can do.

  “I’m afraid our own defences are looking quite rocky at present, General, but I will see what I can arrange.” An admission of weakness? No, a lie. For what purpose? What does he know about our new allies?

  “About Captain Sheridan?”

  “He has returned,” Clark said. “But he said that it will take him a while to handle the aftermath of his mission. Bureaucratic details and so forth. Owing to security reasons, he feels it would be unwise to bring Satai Delenn down here. Would the Babylon be suitable for you to meet her?”

  “Oh yes. Perfect.”

  “Well then, Captain Sheridan said that 1500 hours would be a fine time for him…”

  “Over two hours. Perfect. It will give Miss Alexander and myself time to discuss things. Thank you, all. It has been a pleasure.”

  Welles watched Bester and Alexander leave, and he felt eyes on him. Looking up, he saw Takashima watching him. She had said very little during the meeting, evidently preferring to watch.

  Just as Welles had.

  He had a feeling that she was a more powerful protagonist than Clark, Hague or Bester.

  She was dangerous.

  * * * * * * *

  Sheridan had not been sure what to expect in Bester. He had never met the Psi Cop before – although he had had dealings with a few of Bester’s aides – but he had heard a great deal about Alfred Bester. Psi Cop. Diplomat. Leader.

  He hadn’t been expecting the short man with a useless hand who shot glances everywhere. But then one look in Bester’s eyes and at the telepath’s quietly mocking grin proved that Bester himself was exactly what he had been expecting.

  He wondered what Bester had been expecting. The Psi Cop gave no sign of whether he had been expecting anything at all.

  “It’s good to meet you at last, Mr. Bester,” he said. He’d held meetings with various dignitaries – usually Narns or from the League – before, but this one put a sour taste in his mouth.

  “Likewise, Captain Sheridan.” Bester did not extend a hand. “This is an impressive ship. Destroyer class, isn’t it?”

  “She… used to be. She’s had so many modifications and alterations done to her over the years that she’s now in a class of her own. We prefer to think of her as a Babylon-class ship.”

  “Ah, yes. The ancient tower of Babel, which ascended into the heavens as all of mankind worked together to one singular purpose. A fine ideal, don’t you think? Do you know much about ancient history, Captain Sheridan?”

  “I’m more familiar with the twentieth century.”

  “Ah, it is a fascinating subject, although I have always preferred Greek history myself. We managed to rescue two damaged destroyer ships from the end of the war. We repaired them and renamed them. The Ozymandias and the Parmenion.”

  Sheridan turned and stared. “You have two destroyers?”

  “To all things a time, Captain Sheridan. This is a fascinating ship. I would quite like a tour.”

  He refrained from gnashing his teeth. “Of course. I also understand you wish to question Satai Delenn.”

  “I would. Miss Alexander is a gifted telepath, but she may have missed something in her scans. I miss nothing, Captain Sheridan.”

  “Of course. If you would care to come to my office first, so that we can sort out a few details.”

  Sheridan was tense as he led Bester up to the ready room. Bester was a P12, the best and the strongest. Corwin had wanted to be here for this, but he had refused. Delenn had said that this was not necessary, but he knew it was.

  This was too important for anyone, even Bester, to ruin, but if what he was planning went wrong… He was surprised that Bester didn’t have guards, or any form of escort. Apparently he had flown here alone in one of his Psi Corps Black Omega Starfuries.

  But then why would Bester need guards, when he possessed one of the most powerful minds in existence? The Minbari hadn’t touched his power at all. Perhaps he’d made a deal with them.

  They reached Sheridan’s office and stepped inside. No one else was there.

  “So, Captain, what are these little details…?”

  Bester stiffened, and there was a cause. Sheridan had drawn his PPG and placed it at the base of the Psi Cop’s skull.

  “I’m waiting for an explanation, Captain.”

  “You Psi Cops always think you own everything. Maybe you aren’t getting an explanation. Maybe I’ll just blow your head off right here.”

  “Oh? And what would murder do to your career?”

  “They can’t do anything to me. T
hey need me too much, and I’ll say that you attacked me. Or did you think that they actually trusted you?”

  “I’ve never needed to be trusted, Captain, but I see your point. What if they don’t believe you?”

  “They will.” Because I’ll have witnesses. David will back me up even though I told him to stay out of this. He’ll involve himself.

  “Well then, Captain. It seems your… persuasiveness has won me over. I’ll be leaving then, shall I? With my head, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m very attached to it, you see. We’re inseparable, in fact.”

  Sheridan stepped backwards, one step. “We’ll have to put off some time for appearance’s sake, but you can spend it here. The only part of my ship you’ll be going anywhere near is from here to the docking bays, and the only person you’ll be seeing is me.”

  “I was not aware of any insanity in your record, Captain.”

  “I’m not insane,” he replied. “I don’t like you and I don’t trust you.”

  “I don’t trust myself either, Captain. At least that puts me in the majority. So, this is a fascinating office, at least.”

  “Shut up.”

  Sheridan activated his link. “Mr. Corwin. Mr. Bester and I will be attending to matters in my office. Please ensure we are not disturbed.”

  “Yes, sir,” came Corwin’s voice over the link. All scripted of course. Sheridan hoped those tricks Delenn had shown him were working, but what did it matter if they didn’t? She would be safe, and he was still indispensable.

  He had a feeling it was going to be a long few hours.

  * * * * * * *

  “It worked then?”

  “It worked,” Sheridan confirmed. “Although I’ll be damned if I know how. Those mind clearing tricks you taught me must have worked.”

  Delenn frowned. “If he is as powerful as you say…” She placed another part on to the machine. “I would be careful, John. I think you have made an enemy today.”

  “So what’s one more? He’s gone now anyway, and I know he didn’t give the Resistance Government a briefing on what just happened. I… I just can’t help feeling he had something deeper in mind. Well, whatever he wanted, he either got it or he didn’t, and either way it can’t be helped. And he’ll either tell the Resistance Government or he won’t. Either way, they won’t be able to do anything.

  “How is that thing coming along?”

  “Soon,” she said. She looked up and met his eyes. He saw her concern.

  “Soon.”

  * * * * * * *

  A few hours out of Proxima 3, heading for the Proxima system jump gate, at a point where he was sure his transmissions wouldn’t be intercepted, Bester sent a coded signal. A few minutes later, a familiar voice appeared over the comm channel.

  “Hey, boss. How’d it go?”

  “Mr. Garibaldi? I was expecting Ben Zayn.”

  “He’s off somewhere. Trouble with the Streibs. You know how it is, boss. So, how’d it go?”

  “Fine. I got what I came for.”

  “Captain John Sheridan?”

  “Yes. A complete and detailed scan, and all without his knowledge. At least I think so. He’d formed some unusual blocks, but I got past them eventually. It just took a little time.”

  “And?”

  “And, Mr. Garibaldi, our information was correct. One hundred percent so.”

  “Nothing’s one hundred percent anything, boss.”

  “Always the sceptic, eh, Mr. Garibaldi. Some days I’m very glad I’m not in your wife’s place.”

  “I’m very glad you’re not in my wife’s place too.”

  Bester chuckled. “How is she anyway?”

  “The same. Throwing up every morning and hating every minute of it.”

  “Remember, you promised to name the child after me if he’s a boy.”

  “Alfred Garibaldi? What kind of a name is that? Alfredo, perhaps.”

  “We shall see, Mr. Garibaldi. We shall see.”

  “What about the Minbari? Satai Delenn?”

  “No. I didn’t get close enough to her, but that doesn’t matter. She was only an added bonus anyway. Ah, here’s the jump gate. I will be back in about twelve hours.”

  “I’ll see you then, boss. C and C out.”

  Bester closed his eyes. Everything was going as it should. His information had been correct after all. There had been some disagreement as to whether it should be trusted, but now everything was going fine and could continue.

  He smiled.

  Part VII: Transformations

  Chapter 1

  And so, it begins.

  Kosh Naranek, personal observation.

  * * * * * * *

  Hail, Holy One. Hail, Sinoval. Hail, Holy One.

  Sinoval. Satai of the Grey Council. Entil’zha of the Rangers. Warleader of the Wind Swords clan. Shai Alyt of the jihad against the Earthers. A long list of titles. More than enough for most people. Branmer himself had borne only two of the four Sinoval currently held. Many lived and served their whole lives without gaining even a fraction of the power or respect Sinoval wielded, and they were happy with their status.

  Sinoval was not.

  He dreamed.

  He dreamed of walking in the footsteps of Valen, and Varmain, and Durhan, and Branmer. He dreamed of reaching out his hand and touching the stars. He dreamed of leading his people to the gates of Z’ha’dum and tearing them down. He dreamed of bringing light to the darkness.

  He dreamed, and now his dream was near to reality. There was only one obstacle, the same obstacle that had impeded him countless times before.

  Her name was Delenn.

  The period of mourning for Dukhat’s death was over, and the Grey Council was set on choosing his successor. For over ten cycles, since even before Dukhat’s death, it had seemed set that Delenn would stand where Dukhat had stood. She had been his chosen at a time when Sinoval had not even stood amongst the Nine.

  But things had changed. Delenn had been gone almost a whole cycle, vanished when Starkiller Sheridan had made his escape. Whether she had been captured or had gone willingly was not known. Although Sinoval found it hard to believe she had gone with the Starkiller of her own will, it suited him to remind others of that possibility. Some were even starting to believe what he did not. These false beliefs were growing in strength ever since the encounter almost half a cycle ago, at the planet called Epsilon 3, where the Trigati had clashed with Sheridan’s ship, the Babylon. The second in command of the Trigati, Alyt Deeron, had reported receiving word from the Babylon that Delenn was aboard, even receiving communications from Delenn to back away and leave the planet. Sinoval had publicly denied all knowledge of this, but privately suspicions were starting to grow, especially when the ease of Starkiller’s escape was brought up. Sinoval knew the truth, of course, or at least as much of the truth as he could. He hated such rumours, but he let them run. It suited his greater purpose.

  Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved. An old Minbari saying, one that he had heard in his first foray into the Dreaming, as he was initiated into the Grey Council. He repeated it silently to himself, changing it slightly.

  Delenn must be sacrificed if the Minbari are to be saved.

  Only a few weeks ago a warrior, Kalain, had been appointed as temporary replacement for Delenn, the full nine being needed to vote on a leader. This had been a hard-fought victory on Sinoval’s part, but well won. And now he was mere inches from his greatest triumph.

  So near and yet so far.

  The Grey Council wanted proof, one way or the other. Lennann and Rathenn had been screaming for action ever since Delenn had disappeared, but other, wiser heads were able to talk them down about the danger and the risk involved to rescue one who was surely either dead or a traitress. And besides, without Delenn, her sycophant followers were of no importance. Hedronn had spoken up at last, however, and he had the weight of the worker caste behind him.

  “We need proof, Sinoval,” he had said. “Delenn was the chosen of D
ukhat, and we must respect Dukhat’s wishes. A rescue attempt may have been inadvisable before, but we know your wishes and your actions should you be voted to lead us. If Delenn is alive, and a prisoner, then we cannot let you jeopardise her life in an attack, and we cannot elect you to fill the place that should be hers. Get us proof, Sinoval, and we shall see.”

  “Then you shall have proof,” Sinoval replied.

  “You wish to see me, Satai,” said a voice from behind him. A Centauri voice.

  “Yes, Ambassador. Thank you for coming.”

  Ambassador Refa. A Centauri given the freedom of Minbar. It grated on Sinoval, not because he was Centauri, but because he was a Centauri exile. His plottings on Centauri Prime had led to a power struggle that he had lost, with the result that he had ended up here. Whatever he might say, his position was regarded as a joke by those back on Centauri Prime.

  That was what grated on Sinoval, that the Centauri saw Minbar as a place to send their unwanted rubbish.

  But then, even rubbish has a purpose.

  “What is the current news on the treaty negotiations between the Centarum and the Earther Resistance Government?” he asked.

  “Satai, I have no knowledge of any such…”

  “Do not lie to me, Ambassador. It demeans my position and it demeans the Council I represent, and that demeans my people. We both have sources on Centauri Prime, and we both know that the overtures of peace made to the Earthers came from your old enemy – a Minister Londo Mollari. Unfortunately I have been distracted lately, and I am not up to date. I am sure that you are, however. So, what news?”

  Sinoval could practically feel the anger in Refa’s eyes. Any mention of Mollari tended to do that to him. “The Resistance Government is still considering the matter. At least, that is what they are telling the Centarum. I believe they are debating whether my people or the Narns would make better allies.”

  “I see. Then would this not be the perfect opportunity for a Centauri noble and diplomat to visit the Earthers?”

  “I have enough supporters in the Centarum to arrange such an act,” Refa said slowly, thoughts running around in his head. “And even to ensure that my… appointment here is not brought up. But why, Satai?”