The Other Half of my Soul addm-1

by Gareth D. Williams

  Oh – the Babylon had been returned, with no explanations from those who brought it back. No clues as to where Sheridan was now. Hague had given command of it to General Takashima, who was doing her best to prepare it for the Minbari’s arrival. By all rights, Hague should have taken it himself, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t…

  The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming.

  He just could not rid himself of those four words. They kept running around inside his mind.

  The Minbari are coming.

  He still had not told Vice Pre… President Clark. He still had not told General Takashima. He had not told Mr. Welles. He had only so much as hinted to one person, and she was, hopefully, on her way now.

  The door opened, and in she walked.

  Ambassador Susan Ivanova. Emissary of the mysterious race called the Shadows who promised assistance to humanity against the Minbari. Except that there was neither sight nor sound nor trace of them. And now the Minbari were coming, and humanity needed them. Humanity needed anything.

  The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming.

  “General. How are you?” She flashed a smile and sat down opposite him. “Well, I trust?”

  “I… yes. Fine. I…” Hague stopped and swallowed hard. The Minbari are coming. “The Minbari are coming!” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken that last thought aloud until he heard Ivanova’s reply.

  “Finally got things moving, did they? Well, they certainly took their time.”

  Hague closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He felt as though he were suffocating. This was absurd! He was a soldier, a trained soldier. He’d fought the Dilgar, he’d taken part in the siege of New Jerusalem, he’d fought with General Franklin on the Janos 7 campaign. He was no stranger to death, but this…

  The Minbari are coming.

  “Will…” He choked and paused. “Will your allies be here?”

  She smiled. “Of course, General. I promised you they would be. They’ll be here.”

  Hague nodded and swallowed again. His throat felt very dry. He poured himself a glass of whisky and drank it in one gulp. He’d always kept a bottle of Scotch whisky in his quarters aboard his ship. Afterwards he had brought the bottle here, saving it for a special occasion. Dying seemed special enough.

  Ivanova rose and bowed a trifle mockingly. She went towards the door, and as she reached it, she suddenly stopped and turned, smiling.

  “There will be a price of course.”

  * * * * * * *

  The Minbari are coming!

  * * * * * * *

  Elsewhere, others were preparing. Others knew. They had sources, they had agents, they had ears and eyes and minds.

  In a place called Sanctuary, a place few had ever heard of, and fewer could find, a man called Bester was having a conversation.

  “We knew this was going to happen sooner or later,” he said. “The question is are we ready to take part, or do we just… let events take their course?”

  “We cannot stay hidden forever. Did you make the necessary preparations?”

  “Oh yes.” Bester smiled, a little smugly. “A few people in the right places. It’s all ready. If we are.”

  “Do you think we are?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met these… allies of humanity, but their ambassador on Proxima was certainly keen enough to avoid me. That could mean something. It could mean we’re right.”

  “Perhaps. What about Captain Sheridan?”

  “What about him?”

  “What does he know?”

  “What you’ve told him, what he’s managed to piece together. I certainly haven’t told him anything. He’s an intelligent man, and a dangerous one. I think he’s taking to the Parmenion quite well.”

  “And Satai Delenn? What about her?”

  “Now that… is a fascinating subject. I’ve had her checked over by my doctors here. She is… a mix, a foot in each world, so to speak. Unfortunately, she is also genetically very unstable. She wasn’t willing to talk about her change, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope for a long life. Unless she can somehow complete what was interrupted… That’s your area, I believe.”

  “I’ll find out what I can, but we don’t have time. The Minbari will be at Proxima in twelve hours. How long would it take the Parmenion and the Ozymandias to get there?”

  “Eight hours or so. Perhaps. They’re quite a bit faster than my Black Omega Starfuries. I take it this means we are going to get involved?”

  “I doubt we could keep Captain Sheridan out of it. And Satai Delenn may be our one chance of ending this without bloodshed.”

  “If you think so. You certainly know the Minbari better than I do. So, do you want to tell Sheridan the truth? Or shall I?”

  “No. He must make his own choice. For too long he has been misguided, directionless, uncertain. He has set aside his past, but now he must decide his future. He must decide where he will stand on his own.”

  “And if he chooses wrongly?”

  “Then we will remove him. I do not like to do this either, but there is a saying I learned recently. ‘Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved.’”

  “‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’,” Bester countered. “‘Practicalities are more important than principles.’ You had better watch yourself. You’re starting to think just like me.”

  “What was it you once told me? ‘Desperate times breed desperate people.’”

  Bester smiled. “Absolutely correct.”

  * * * * * * *

  Hague reeled. A price? She had never mentioned a price before. What… price?

  The Minbari are coming.

  * * * * * * *

  Timov hated intrigue. She despised politics. She loathed social climbing. And she found assassinations very impolite and annoying. All she wanted was a quiet life, where she could live in peace, bullying the servants and making her husband’s life hell. Was that so much to ask for?

  Evidently, it was. Ever since she had realised that in order to keep up with Mariel and Daggair she would actually have to involve herself in whatever game they were playing, she had not had a moment’s peace. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, and most of the problems seemed centred around Lady Elrisia, of whom Londo spoke frequently and derisorily.

  “There, there, Londo,” she had said, patting his forehead in a way that she knew was bound to drive him insane. “Everything will be all right soon, just you wait and see.”

  “Where is Drigo?” Londo had spat. “I am not staying here one moment longer!”

  “Oh, you should not exert yourself, Londo my love. Drigo will be back before long, and he told me to keep you from getting too stressed. If you’d prefer I could always ask Mariel or Daggair to come and keep an eye on you…”

  “Timov! You are a witch! A harridan! A… a… Bah! We do not have the word to describe what you are.”

  Timov smiled in memory of that conversation, but her smile faded as she thought of the circumstances behind it.

  Another assassination attempt, one which had come very close to succeeding. Londo’s personal carriage had exploded on his journey from the capital to his estates. Fortunately Londo had sensed something strange and had managed to escape, but the explosion had resulted in him being quite badly burned. He had contacted his primary source of information – a weaselly, worthless sort of man named Drigo – who had managed to get him to a safe house to recuperate. Drigo was however also working for Timov, whom he called and alerted to the unfortunate events. Timov had made her way there quickly and had proceeded to annoy Londo almost to death while making discreet enquiries.

  Saying that this was Elrisia’s work would be stating the obvious, but the fact that she was willing to go to such lengths indicated just how far her ambition had taken her. Timov had done some thinking about this, and she had devised a plan, which she had broached to a less than receptive Londo.

  “What?” he had said. “Pretend to be dea
d! Never!”

  “It will, I admit, cause a few problems. Namely your having to muster a little bit more energy to be truly accepted in the rôle.”

  “Such subterfuge is beneath my dignity!”

  “Londo! Shut up and think for a moment. Sooner or later one of these attempts is going to succeed. Someone wants you dead very badly. I can sympathise with them, of course, but I think it would be better if you stopped presenting yourself as such an open target to them.”

  “Be careful, Timov,” he had warned. “I might start to think you care.”

  “Don’t overestimate yourself, Londo. All I’m saying is that if you went out of the picture for a while, then the people who have been behind all this may make a mistake or two, and you will still be alive to capitalise on it.”

  Londo had sat back, thinking. Timov groaned melodramatically. Londo seemed to be thinking far too much these days.

  “I could head out to one of our outer colonies. Gorash, perhaps. Or maybe Frallus Twelve. Elrisia has fewer supporters there, and then there is…” He suddenly stopped and looked at Timov. “Something very strange is going on, Timov. You have had a good idea. Is there something in the water?”

  “Somebody in this house has to think intelligently for a while, Londo. It might as well be me.”

  “How will I be able to get off Centauri Prime?”

  “I am sure Drigo will be able to attend to that, won’t you, Drigo?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Drigo had said. He certainly knew where his loyalties lay.

  “Good. There you see, Londo. Problem solved.”

  “If only.”

  And the problem was pretty much solved. Londo had needed a few more days rest, and Timov had to spend some time back at the estates so as not to cause suspicion and to put on a false display of mourning. Mariel and Daggair put on false displays of mourning as well, but theirs would have been false in any event. There was quite a bit of mourning and ceremony in the city, and considerable regret that Londo’s body could not be found.

  Timov took quite a bit of pleasure in relating to Londo the exact details of his funeral, something he later said no one should ever have to hear.

  There was however, one other bit of news that she brought him that he was equally unhappy to hear.

  “What do you mean he is gone?”

  “I mean gone. As in – vanished, or not there any more. Are you sure that explosion did not damage your hearing, Londo?”

  “It is a secure cell at the bottom of the Royal Palace! How can anyone just vanish from there?”

  “Never having been there, I wouldn’t know, Londo. He is gone, however, and nobody knows how. Lady Elrisia was quite… vexed.”

  Timov didn’t know why Londo was so interested in the whereabouts of this strange Mr. Morden, and she doubted that he did. Mysteries were very commonplace these days, but that did not make them any easier to deal with.

  And then he was gone. A private shuttle to the city and a secretive boarding on to the Valerius, whose captain owed Londo a number of favours. The Valerius was heading out to the war zone, and he hoped to be dropped off at an insignificant place called Epsilon 3. Timov pretended not to know anything about a Great Machine or a Narn inhabiting it, and so she feigned ignorance.

  She did remember their final parting however. An awkward silence, an almost tender exchange of barbs and a never actually spoken thank you. It had been quite emotional.

  Timov shrugged and shook herself out of her reverie. In a minute she might actually start thinking she loved her husband. Hah!

  * * * * * * *

  Minbari…

  * * * * * * *

  Ta’Lon had never been to Proxima 3 before, despite his extensive travels in G’Kar’s service. G’Kar had uncovered the Shadow influence on the planet and he had decided not to interfere there for fear of revealing his existence to the Enemy. G’Kar still kept an eye on Captain Sheridan through his Great Machine, but all his agents had been ordered to stay away from Proxima.

  Until now.

  Ta’Lon had received a recent message from the Centauri aide who was close to the Grey Council. The Minbari had finally launched their offensive. Ta’Lon had arrived at Proxima only twelve hours or so before the Minbari would arrive.

  Getting in was not all that difficult. He did after all have experience as a fighter pilot during the last Narn / Centauri War, and he had fake documents from Councillor Na’Toth which gave him the official approval of the Kha’Ri to do whatever he wanted. If they were ever investigated, Na’Toth could always claim they were forgeries.

  Under pretence of getting his ship repaired, Ta’Lon managed to make it down to the surface. He had arranged a quick meeting with General Takashima, who was supposed to be organising the defence line. She quickly authorised his presence, grateful for even one more ship that could help defend Proxima.

  Ta’Lon’s real reason for coming to the planet had little to do with defence. It had to do with a last promise to a friend.

  Delenn was not on Proxima, as he had been told by Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar, but there were two others who needed his help. Lyta Alexander and Marcus Cole. Lyta Alexander was a telepath, and as such a valuable ally to have. Marcus Cole had been monitoring the Shadow activity here, and would have important information.

  Ta’Lon had come to Proxima to find Satai Delenn, only to discover that she was no longer there. That did not invalidate his mission. Ta’Lon lived to serve, and so, in G’Kar’s name, he would serve.

  Or die.

  * * * * * * *

  John Sheridan was many things, a leader, a commander, an orator. He was first and foremost a warrior, however. Delenn had known many warriors in her life, and she had seen many different sides to them.

  There was her father, who had fought a war against succumbing to grief and loss after the departure of her mother. There were Draal and Dukhat, who fought wars to keep the Minbari together, to keep the castes focussed. There was Neroon, who fought a war against the Darkness in the name of her love. There was Sinoval, who fought for pride and honour and duty.

  Delenn would never forget the first time she had seen Sheridan. It had been in the Hall of the Grey Council, when he had been brought forward, bloodied, battered and chained. From the first image, he had dominated her vision. She saw his pride, his strength, his power, and she saw him confronting Sinoval, burning with a rage that could have torn the ship apart.

  Two sides to the same coin, as the human saying went. A mirror image in the water, as did the Minbari’s. Two halves of the same soul.

  Delenn had seen Sinoval at war. She had seen him launch the final attack on Earth, brimming with a thirst for vengeance that had almost matched her own. She had seen Sheridan at war, confronting what should never have to be met. She remembered the sight of the Babylon’s near apocalyptic attack over Mars.

  Sheridan and Sinoval. Two sides of the same coin.

  And then what about her and Sheridan? Delenn had studied the prophecies of Valen in detail, reading them over and over again, but never had they come into such clarity as they had when she had first seen Sheridan. Everything had made sense then. At first she had denied it to herself, thinking that her answers were impossible, even blasphemous.

  Then she had been captured by him, brought to Proxima, questioned… It had been an ordeal simply to keep her sanity, to keep the dreadful actuality of what she had done from exploding in her face.

  And then he had saved her. A simple act of mercy – food, water and rest – was followed by her freedom. She had been given a chance to think, to understand, to suppose. She found she could talk to him about her theories and he would listen. She wasn’t sure he believed her, but he would at least listen.

  And then she had met Valen. So many questions answered, but so many new questions arising. She had seen the future – or what might become the future. She had seen herself standing over Sheridan’s grave on a devastated Minbar, and she had sworn never to let that happen. Her change had been part of an e
ffort to prevent that future from happening.

  And then had come her chrysalis, and her almost fatal premature emergence from it. She remembered little of the immediate few days after the chrysalis had been broken, but she had an image of a part of herself being held prisoner within her own mind, of being hemmed in by steel bars while Shadows crept up on her. She had been freed at last, but now she was just as worried as before. She had her place in destiny marked out – the prophecies said so – but it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Surely it wasn’t?

  She winced as another sharp burst of pain tore up to her eyes from the back of her skull. They were getting more frequent now.

  “Delenn?” Sheridan asked. He knelt down beside her. “Are you…?”

  All right? She didn’t know. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. She had expected some pain, some… difficulty in her transition, but not this.

  But how could she tell him of her pains, when he had so many of his own? She doubted she would ever forget the image of his face after Anna had died. The sight of all innocence and hope fading. She doubted they would ever regain their earlier air of… familiarity. The two of them had grown close – as close as any human and Minbari could get. Now… he still came to talk, he still listened, but there were more uncomfortable gaps in their conversations, as they both wondered what to say that could possibly forestall further pain.

  “I am fine,” she whispered. She was not fine. She remembered what Dr. Hobbs and Dr. Kyle had told her.

  “I don’t pretend to know anything about the technology that caused this change,” Dr. Hobbs had begun. She was a warm, friendly woman who had actually talked to Delenn. Delenn was still nervous around most humans, and the sight of someone who did not look upon her as a Minbari murderer had given her a brief ray of happiness.

  “All I can say is what I’ve discovered, and I’m afraid it is not good.

  “Your biology is… very unstable. You’ve said that the process was not complete and that would concur with my data. Your vital systems are very unstable, and heart problems in particular seem likely, as well as more… minor complaints like severe headaches, dizziness, nausea, possibly even loss of memory.”