The Other Half of my Soul addm-1

by Gareth D. Williams

  “Satai Delenn of the religious caste disappeared almost a cycle ago. We know that the Earthers are involved. I… we would like confirmation on whether she is alive or dead, and if she is alive, then in what state. A prisoner, or a welcome guest.”

  “I had not heard this,” said Refa, but he caught the unmentioned meaning behind the sentence.

  “Undue curiosity is frowned on in our people. We are told what we need to know and nothing more. And, Ambassador, you will not find me ungrateful.” The words ’when I am leader’ did not need to be said. Both knew the score.

  “It is always a pleasure to serve, Satai. I will get your information.” Refa bowed and left.

  Sinoval returned to his dream, but it was a dream tainted by the corruption he was having to endure. Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved, but where would the some become too many? Would it end at Delenn, or the rest of the Grey Council? It had already cost him his honour, as he recalled with a foul taste why he had arisen so far, and, he suspected, the true reason Sheridan had escaped and Delenn had vanished.

  Not for nothing was she called Deathwalker.

  * * * * * * *

  ‘And we will reunite with the other half of our soul in a war against the common Enemy…’

  So ran the prophecies as set down by Valen a thousand years before. Since then many had studied them, working over countless generations in search of understanding. Delenn had been one of the many, and she had at last found meaning.

  She gently laid the last piece on to the machine. All that was needed now was the Triluminary itself.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  She looked at the speaker. Captain John Sheridan, the Starkiller, greatest enemy of her people. She saw in him an honesty, a nobility and a tenderness buried beneath fourteen years of war and countless deaths. Maybe her actions would be the catalyst that brought the real John Sheridan to the fore once again.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “You won’t be well received,” he warned.

  “I am under no illusions as to how your people will view me,” she said firmly. “But my people… once I show them the true meaning of Valen’s words… once I explain to them that I saw Valen on Babylon Four, then they will listen, and they will understand, and I will be able to pull them back from the brink, and set them in the right direction once more.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  She looked at him again. “You sound… doubtful, John.”

  “I am. Blood calls out for blood. You can’t end this, Delenn. I don’t think anyone can. I remember meeting Sinoval in your hall.”

  “Like a mirror,” she whispered, remembering the confrontation in the Hall of the Grey Council. Sheridan and Sinoval had seemed almost mirror reflections of each other.

  “Sinoval is just one man,” she said.

  “That’s all it takes.”

  His link beeped. It was Officer Allan, who was in charge of guarding Delenn’s quarters-cum-cell. “Captain, Miss Alexander is here, and she wants to see you.”

  “Tell her Marcus is on Proxima. He doesn’t work for me any more.” A deception, but a necessary one. Susan Ivanova was the link between the Resistance Government and the Shadows. She had to be kept under close observation.

  “She says she knows that. She wants to see you, sir, and the prisoner.”

  Sheridan wasn’t sure of what to make of Lyta Alexander. One of the few telepaths living on Proxima, she was a legacy of the destroyed Psi Corps. She sometimes wore their badge and their uniform, but she also broke their rules, having received a number of cautions for inappropriate use of her telepathic powers. She had also played a part in Delenn’s interrogation. Sheridan had seen the results of that interrogation, and he was inclined to refuse Lyta entry on that alone, but he found himself looking up at Delenn, who nodded once.

  “All right, send her in, but just for a little while.”

  The door opened, and Lyta entered. She breezed past Sheridan, ignoring him completely and she stopped next to Delenn’s machine. Looking up, she said one word:

  “Chrysalis.”

  Sheridan looked up sharply. Ever since the incident with Bester a few months ago, Delenn had been teaching Minbari meditation techniques to him, Corwin and Marcus – those primarily involved in their little conspiracy against humanity’s new allies. The techniques were supposed to prevent telepathic scans. They’d seemed to work on Bester. They should work on Lyta.

  “I didn’t scan you,” Lyta said, evidently noticing his reaction. “The Vorlon told me.” Sheridan saw Delenn start. “His name is Kosh.”

  “He was… once… a part of me,” Delenn whispered.

  “And now he’s a part of me, God knows why. He wanted to see you, and to give you a message. ’And so, it begins.’ That’s it. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “It might.”

  “Good. And… I wanted to give you a message. I’m sorry. For what I did to you.”

  A soft, genuine: “Thank you.”

  Lyta smiled, and then turned to leave. As she reached the door, she stopped, and said, “Captain, I don’t know what game you’re playing with Marcus, and I know that I can’t stop you, but if he gets hurt because of you, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”

  And she left.

  Sheridan looked at Delenn. “What can I tell her?” he said. “I don’t know what danger Marcus might be in, but we need his information.”

  “More than we need his life?”

  “Perhaps. I wish I could give a definite answer, but life’s never that easy.”

  “No, I suppose it is not.” She slowly drew out the Triluminary.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She placed the Triluminary on to the machine.

  “I will be here,” he said. “Count on that.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  * * * * * * *

  A Centauri on Minbar was a rare sight. A Centauri at a recital of Minbari keela poetry was a rarer sight still.

  Vir Cotto was a very rare Centauri.

  Officially Ambassador Refa’s aide, head of diplomatic staff and general dogsbody, Vir should have been preparing a number of things for their imminent trip to Proxima 3. Unofficially – and very secretly – a member of a secret conspiracy that included Refa’s favourite enemy, Londo Mollari, he had a few more important matters to attend to first.

  The poem ended and there was considerable praise from the listeners. Vir had at first been mystified by keela – Centauri poetry tended to be shorter, simpler and far bawdier – but he had come to appreciate and even enjoy it.

  He sipped his drink and watched as the poet quietly spoke with the audience. The drink was non-alcoholic of course, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was made of. Refa didn’t mind the lack of alcohol on Minbar – he only drank brivare on state occasions – and Vir wasn’t bothered about alcohol at all, but other Centauri found the concept terrifying.

  Finally, the poet bowed and left. Vir knew he had been noticed and that the poet would meet him at their usual rendezvous, but first he had to kill some time to avoid causing suspicion. He made polite conversation with a Minbari worker and then left, making for a quiet alley where no one would disturb them. Minbari tended to respect one another’s privacy, but even so…

  “Have you had any news from G’Kar recently?” Vir asked. The absence of news from the leader of their network was troubling him.

  “Alyt Neroon arranged for a message to reach me a few months ago. Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar is still fortifying his position on Epsilon Three. He is gathering ships to his side. Alyt Neroon was going on to the League of Non-Aligned Worlds to gain some aid there. Apparently Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar feels that a number of conflicts will soon erupt.”

  “He’s not wrong. The Grey Council is about to appoint a new leader. Ambassador Refa and I are leaving for Proxima Three tomorrow. The ambassador didn’t give any details, but I’d bet the timing isn’t coincidental.”

  “That w
ould not seem likely.”

  “No. When will you be starting your tour of Centauri Prime?”

  “I leave Minbar tomorrow, the same as you.”

  “Good. If you can hand this over to Minister Mollari.” Vir handed his companion a data crystal. “Normally I give them to him myself, but in light of recent… events, I think he ought to have this information as soon as possible.”

  “I will ensure that he gets it. Will you be meeting Captain Sheridan while on Proxima Three?”

  “I hope so. We really need him on our side, the way things are going.”

  “I… suppose that is so. Alyt Neroon also arranged for me to receive a private message for Captain Sheridan and Satai Delenn.” Vir took the data crystal and buried it in the pockets of his jacket. “I will be at Centauri Prime for a period of two months. We will meet when I return. Walk with Valen.”

  “You too, I guess.” Vir left the alley and scuttled away. The data crystal felt very heavy in his jacket. Very heavy indeed.

  * * * * * * *

  For Susan Ivanova, some private time was becoming very hard to find these days. Ever since Captain Sheridan and that Minbari witch of his had dispatched Marcus to keep an eye on her – all in the name of security, of course – she had rarely been able to find the time to continue with her jobs. Not that it mattered much, as things were progressing fairly nicely now with minimal involvement on her part, and it wasn’t as if Marcus was all that difficult to be with.

  No, he was too much pleasure to be with, and that was why she had to get away from him sometimes. Schemes to accomplish that were varied and this one was nothing more subtle than drugging his drink. Water, for God’s sake. Who around anywhere just drank water? She wouldn’t have much time, but it might be enough, and she had already wasted most of it just looking at him as he slept.

  He was an innocent, a rarity to her. Psi Corps had taken her childish innocence when they had taken her mother, and her father had taken his love. But Marcus, he had seen his family killed, colony destroyed, everything he had wiped out, and he was still an innocent. He had cried the first time she had managed to seduce him, and his tears had startled her to an extent she had found impossible to believe.

  She had to remind herself of why she was doing this. She had to keep reminding herself about the Minbari, about the Vorlons, about Psi Corps. She had to keep repeating over and over again the phrase ’some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved’. She had to keep reminding herself of why she was here, instead of curled up in bed with Marcus.

  If she didn’t remind herself, her two Shadow companions would be happy to remind her. They were not happy. She didn’t know how much they knew about lust, or sex, or love, but she knew they were concerned about him. They wanted her either to kill him or put a Keeper on him, and she had to keep fighting them, reminding them that such an act would draw more suspicion on her.

  But was she reminding them – or herself?

  She reached the door she was after and rang the bell. She knew that the person she was waiting for was in, and she knew that the other person who lived here was not.

  The door opened and a red-haired, pale-looking woman stood in the doorway. “Susan, she muttered. Susan. I’m sorry, I look…”

  “No problem, Anna.” Anna Sheridan stepped back and ushered Susan – and her invisible companions – in. Susan looked around the room slowly. It was a mess, the smell of cheap Narn liquor mingling with dying orange blossom. Clothes were scattered everywhere, the bed was rumpled and the place clearly hadn’t been tidied in months.

  Then she looked at Anna. Her pretty features were masked by fatigue and loss. Her shoulder-length red hair was mussed and sticking out – she’d obviously been sleeping on it. She stank of Narn liquor and sweat and the large T-shirt – the only item of clothing she was wearing – was filthy.

  “A rough night, huh?” Susan said.

  Anna nodded. “Several rough nights. I ran out of booze about three o’clock this morning.”

  “John… hasn’t been around?” Susan knew full well he hadn’t. He was up on his spaceship with his Minbari whore. Looking at the state of the woman whom she was beginning to realise was her friend, she hated Delenn even more for denying Anna the chance of happiness.

  Anna shook her head, and then winced, burying her head in her hands. “I haven’t seen him in months,” she whispered. “I don’t even know if he’s here or not.”

  “He is. The Babylon’s in orbit here. The Resistance Government thinks the Minbari will attack soon, and they want the Babylon on full combat readiness.”

  “Let them come,” Anna muttered. “They’ve taken my best friend, my daughter and my husband, and if they want my life, then they’re welcome to it.”

  “That isn’t the way to talk,” Susan said, and surprised herself by realising that she meant it. “My friends will be here when the Minbari are, and we’ll hold them back, I promise. As for John, well… I don’t know what’s happening to him. I haven’t seen him in a while either, but I’ve heard that he’s still with Delenn.”

  “Her again!” Anna snapped. “What does he see in her? She’s a Minbari, for God’s sake! She killed our daughter! It’s… it’s sick. It’s all so sick, and pointless and… oh, God! I wish Lizzy was still here.”

  Susan slowly reached out and drew Anna close, hugging her. She could hear her companions hissing at her angrily, but she ignored them. This was serving their purpose, and if she could make Anna happy, then so be it.

  “I think you should talk to him,” she said. “Let him know just how you feel. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe there is something you can do.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Oh, God, I’m a mess.” Anna almost chuckled. “Look at me. Look at this place.”

  “I’ll…” Susan thought of Marcus, still asleep. “I’ll help you clean up – both you and here. And then, you can go up to the Babylon, and talk with John.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  Susan heard the hiss of her companions and she suddenly, for one brief and irrational moment, hated herself for what she was doing. But only for a moment.

  * * * * * * *

  Out of the nine on the Grey Council, there were some, like Sinoval, who spoke often and loudly. There were some, like Hedronn, who spoke seldom, but whose words carried great power. There were some, like Delenn, who did not need to speak often for their power to be noted. And there were some, like Rathenn, whose words were seldom offered and less heeded.

  That did not mean his opinions were any less strong than those of, say, Sinoval. It merely meant he had to find another outlet for them. Usually it was Delenn, who listened and understood, but Delenn was not here. She had been forsaken, and forgotten and lied about. Rathenn knew that the thought of her going willingly with the Starkiller was absurd – no, worse than absurd, sacrilegious. And now Sinoval was taking the place that should have been hers, that should still be hers.

  It took a great deal to make a Minbari angry, but once a Minbari was angry, their wrath was a thing to be feared, as the Earthers had discovered. Rathenn needed an outlet for his anger, and so he listened to keela. Remembrance of the past and thoughts for the future. The poet was skilled, and gifted, but his words were not assuaging Rathenn’s anger at all. Finally, he raised his hand and the poet stopped, and bowed.

  “Do you know Satai Delenn?” he asked.

  “I know… of her,” the poet replied, looking down. It was not seemly for anyone to look directly at a Satai of the Grey Council.

  Rathenn looked at the poet. News of Delenn’s disappearance was not common knowledge, and for him to reveal that secret would get him into trouble, but still, a poet may hear the words of a Satai, as the saying went.

  But no, this was not right. The poet’s head was still bowed. “Warriors and their pride,” Rathenn whispered. “They will destroy this Council. Sinoval will destroy this Council. And we, the Third Fane of Ch
udomo, we will stand idle as he does so. And why? Because we have no other choice. Remember the Grey Council, Shaal Lennier. Remember us in your poetry, because soon there will be no one else who will.

  “When will you be leaving for the Centauri?”

  “Tomorrow morning, Satai.”

  “I can only help but wonder if the Centauri will appreciate your poems, Shaal. I doubt it somehow, but if anyone could, then I am sure you will make them. Shaal Mayan must be proud of you.”

  “Yes, Satai. She is.”

  “Good, and so she should be. Go, Shaal Lennier, and walk with Valen.”

  “Thank you, Satai.” Lennier bowed again and left. Rathenn was alone at last, staring into the shadows all around him and feeling his own anger simmering in his breast.

  Warriors! The Council had been in the hands of the religious caste since long before Dukhat, since the days of Liraval herself.

  And in Delenn’s memory, Rathenn swore that it would be again.

  * * * * * * *

  Anna Sheridan was not exactly an unfamiliar face to many aboard the Babylon – some of whom had been present when she married the Captain shortly after the settlement at Proxima 3 – but she hadn’t been seen on the ship in over a year, and as far as Commander Corwin knew, the Captain hadn’t seen her for six months or so.

  So when he received a message saying that Anna was in the docking bay wanting to speak to her husband and incidentally very interested in why security seemed much tighter than usual, he was initially fairly surprised.

  “She’s not… drunk, is she, Mr. Allan?” Corwin said hesitantly. For all that the Captain tried to pretend it wasn’t important, Anna’s drinking was not exactly the best kept secret on Proxima.

  “No, sir,” Zack replied. “Least, it doesn’t look like it.”

  “I’m on my way down.”

  As he made his way from the bridge to the docking bays, Corwin mentally rehearsed just what he was going to tell her.

  Sorry, Mrs. Sheridan, but your husband is watching over our Minbari prisoner who’s currently in some sort of cocoon in fulfilment of ancient prophecy. And incidentally the reason security’s so tight is because we don’t want anyone to find this out, and we definitely don’t want Susan wandering around the ship until we work out what to do with her. Well, they don’t, and I’m not sure what I want regarding Susan any more.