"What do you think set him off?"
"Hard to tell," Zack replied, scratching at his ear. "The suspect had been drinking. Not too much according to the barman, but you know how it is with some people. One glass and they're ready to take on the whole world. Maybe drugs or something. Could have been some psychiatric thing. That.... what is it.... Minbari War Syndrome."
"I heard Smith quit Earthforce because of some combat stress problem."
"Yeah, that could be it."
"Could be." Trace shook his head. "A sad day. Drake was a good man. A damned good man."
"Have you told his missus yet?"
"Just on my way round now. I wanted to see what you'd found out first. You are going to find this guy, aren't you, Allan?"
"No problem. We'll get him."
"Good. You're a good man, Allan. I know I can rely on you."
Trace slapped him gently on the back, then turned and left. Zack looked around for a while and then left to get something to eat.
In one sense it was all completely irrational. Ambassador David Sheridan had spent all his life meeting and mixing with aliens. He had done business adjudicating the fates of empires with people he wouldn't trust to clean his shoes. He had made speeches of undying friendship to people he knew were just waiting to stab him in the back.
Throughout his entire career he had never let personal dislike get in the way of the necessity of his work. The needs of his people were more important than personal feelings.
Until now.
It was Delenn. He just couldn't seem to think straight concerning her. Of course he had plenty of rational reasons for disliking her — leaving aside the issue of what she had done to Earth, there was the way she had seduced John, caused him to betray his Government and led him to a deathbed on some alien world.
On the other hand, he had always been able to concentrate on the greater good before.
The Shadows themselves had discussed her presence here, and they had left the matter entirely up to him. They were sure that she carried nothing, either on her person or in her ship, that could pose a threat. There were no explosive devices, no long-range tracking signals, or spy cameras or whatever other interesting technology the Vorlons could have come up with. They had no fears about anyone mounting any sort of rescue attempt. Z'ha'dum was well protected, they would have ample warning of any oncoming fleet, nothing less than the entire complement of the Vorlon fleet would pose a threat in any case, and for some reason the Shadows seemed convinced that would not happen.
So, the Shadows had given him three options: kill her here and now, give her a Keeper and send her home, or take her to Proxima for trial.
The second, Ambassador Sheridan had dismissed out of hand. It was a fine idea, but the Alliance had that damned technomage, and he would definitely be looking for a Keeper. As Delenn's only real power base was Kazomi 7 it would be pointless sending her anywhere else. She had no influence in the Minbari Federation any more, and besides.... Sinoval was being kept well in hand.
Sheridan had contemplated trying to turn her without the aid of a Keeper. It had worked with Parlonn a thousand years ago, and with Neroon recently. They were both warrior caste however, and something within them appealed more to the whole ethos of 'survival of the fittest' and 'growth through chaos'. Delenn had had too much indoctrination from the Vorlons for that to work without some major genetic modification, and the technomage would spot that as well.
So: kill her now, or take her home for trial.
From a purely personal viewpoint, he just wanted her dead. He was sick of her and her whole infernal race. John would be gone by now, his last days spent trapped in wires and tubes and machinery in the company of aliens. Delenn had done that to him. Just kill her and be done with it.
But.... the greater good. At Proxima she could be put on trial, public trial for her war crimes. Clark would receive an even greater boost in popularity. It would show the public yet again the benefits of their alliance with the Shadows. A boost in public confidence, another victory in a propaganda war. It would also be a vital stepping stone for the next stage in the rebirth of humanity: war with the Alliance.
He rubbed at his eyes wearily. He was tired, and he couldn't think. He had been putting the good of humanity above his own desires all his life. Surely he was entitled to one act of selfishness now?
She had killed his son. She had killed his daughter, and his grandchildren, and she had been responsible for the death of his wife. Everyone he had ever loved had been lost to her.
He sipped at his tea, and realised it had long since gone cold. He sighed. A man was not meant to outlive his children, least of all his grandchildren. That was.... not the way of things.
But the good of humanity. Surely that was worth more? Humanity could benefit from this far more than just his desire to put her down here and now.
Why had she come? What benefit had she hoped to gain from this little stratagem?
He looked up, hoping to ask Neroon. He knew her better than most after all. There was no sign of him. The Minbari was gone.
Sighing, Ambassador Sheridan prepared another cup of tea. He was thinking about Proxima.
Londo's quarters were.... adequate. Surprisingly so, given the state the whole of Kazomi 7 had been in the last time he had been here.
The room was comfortable, large enough for his purposes, possessed all the amenities a visiting dignitary might need, near enough to the main Council chambers, and with a quite stunning view of the city, which seemed so much more alive since he had last been here.
Which meant, of course, that all his retainers hated the place.
"Quite inadequate," blustered one. "Too small," said another. "Security provisions are worthless." "Barbarian little cultures.... they have no idea how to treat a civilised ruler."
Londo listened to all this with a smile. Things felt almost normal. He considered letting all the courtiers know that the rooms were fine, but then they would only find something else to complain about.
He was looking out at the city. The suns were shining. He could see children running and playing. There was a shrine he could just make out. It seemed wonderfully.... peaceful. He made a mental note to ask Lethke what it was.
Everything was so different. He had last seen this place over a year and a half ago, and then it had been a bombed-out wreck, haunted by monsters and ghosts and demons. He had fled through those streets in mortal peril of his life. Lennier had left some vital part of his soul behind. Delenn had nearly died here.
Delenn....
Londo wondered what had happened to her. More than anything else, more so even than G'Kar, she had a talent for making the most convoluted problem seem so wonderfully simple. She possessed a good heart, and a shining soul. He could see that as he looked around him. Everything in the city bore her touch.
And now she was gone. Perhaps never to return.
"I trust the rooms are to your satisfaction?" said a familiar voice.
Londo turned around with a start, and then he noticed who it was. "Gah! G'Kar, do not do that to me! I am an old man. My hearts are not in the best of shape, least of all after the rigours of the last few.... well, years. Great Maker!" He began to breathe harder. "A wonderful sight, isn't it?"
"A miracle," came the reply. "A triumph of hope over despair."
"We have Delenn to thank for it."
G'Kar nodded, stepping out on to the balcony. "Indeed we do."
"You have heard, then? Ah.... are there any plans for a rescue?"
"I have as many of my Rangers as can be spared out gathering information, but they are stretched very thin. Of course, Captain Sheridan has gone to try to rescue her. I fear he may simply be throwing his life away in a foolish quest for revenge."