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 dead! 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.