than fight them!'
There was another forward surge, and another projectile was thrown. It struck Smith on the shoulder, and he grunted. 'Go,' he said to Delenn. 'I'll try and hold them off.... as much as I can.'
'No,' she said softly.
'What? They'll kill you, for God's sake. Just go!'
'I know,' she said. Gently she pushed him aside, and he stumbled. She walked forward and stood to face the crowd. They stopped, puzzled. 'I am sorry,' she said to them simply. 'I am sorry.'
'Sorry?' cried one. 'Sorry?' said another. 'That ain't enough!' 'Not by half!'
'I know,' she said again. 'Words can never undo what has been done. They cannot restore the dead to your side, nor erase all the years of grief. The past can never be changed.
'But the future can be healed. The past can be remembered, and honoured, and still we can look to the future. I came here to this world, to say this. To say I am sorry.'
There was a stunned silence. Smith turned to look at Trace, and saw confusion in the man's eyes. For a moment, all was still. For one moment the entire crowd paused, and history took a breath.
And then God blinked.
Someone threw a stone. It hit Delenn squarely on the leg, and she stumbled. With that, another projectile was launched, a bottle, rocks, cans, rubbish. Smith tried to intervene, but he could do nothing. Delenn fell to the ground as more and more was hurled at her. Countless cuts bled.
'Wait a minute!' Trace said at last, and the people stopped. Slowly, Delenn tried to rise. Smith went to her and offered her his arm. She leant on him, and for one moment looked into his eyes. Then she bowed her head.
'Wait a minute,' said Trace again. 'The Government were going to give her a trial, so they said. Do things proper and by the book, and so should we.
'But our justice isn't their justice. They've got lawyers, and fancy defences, and diplomatic concerns. We've got none of that here. We've got three–o–one justice, and we'll do this fairly.... but we'll do it our way. Anyone here want to, say, put the evidence for the prosecution, as it were?'
There was a pause, and Delenn was visibly shaking against Smith. He tried to shepherd her back towards the door, but she would not move.
'I'll say some things,' said someone. The crowd parted, and an old man hobbled forward. Trace's eyes narrowed. Smith turned to look at the emerging figure and made to say something, but the words failed.
His gait was twisted, one leg dragging along, withered and bent. There were dark burn marks down the side of his face, and one eye was a mass of black scar tissue.
'You don't know who I am, do you?' he said to Delenn. She said nothing in reply. 'Name's Duncan,' he said after a while. 'Wasn't a soldier, wasn't a scientist or a big fancy diplomat. Just a man who carved things and sold them in the market.
'Was on a passenger ship, me, my wife, my daughter. Wasn't military or nothing. Your people attacked us, blew it up good and then left us floating in space. Me.... I was lucky, maybe. I got out alive, after all. Only three of us did. Wife and daughter.... well.... That was nine years ago. Been living here ever since, just.... I don't know. Just remembering.
'Don't hate you or nothing. Just.... wanted to know. Why? Why did you do it all?'
'It....' Delenn breathed out. 'It was a....' She shook. 'It was a mistake.'
'Ah,' said Duncan. He nodded, and then turned and hobbled back towards the crowd.
'See!' said Trace. 'A mistake? What kind of justification is that? Is that any way to explain all the dead, all the injured, all the lives lost? That's no excuse in my book.' He looked at Smith, and the dark light of triumph burned in his eyes.
'Now, not that I see the point, but these things must be done fairly, I suppose. Does anyone want to speak for her?'
Smith moved, but Delenn reached out to touch his chest, and he fell back. 'I will speak,' she coughed. She stepped forward. 'I.... am sorry. For everything. For those who died, for those who were hurt, for those who lost their lives and their loves and their souls.
'And I am sorry for all of you, for all those who have been lost, for those who have walked through the last sixteen years alone and afraid and in darkness.
'What we did was wrong, and I am sorry. But our people have known loss and grief and darkness just as yours have. They have learned to hate, just like you. This cycle cannot continue. Unless it is ended, both our races will be destroyed. And if it takes one more death to end this.... then that is what must be paid.'
She stepped forward and spread her arms wide. 'I came here for many reasons. To explain, to say I was sorry.... but most importantly to end this cycle, to set aside finally the ways of hate and death that have engulfed us all for sixteen years. And if I must die to do that.... then I will die.'
'No!' cried Smith.
'Then I will die,' she said again.
There was a whispered hush over the crowd. Some shook their heads, some spoke in soft tones to their friends. Some moved forward, brandishing weapons.
It was Trace who was the first to speak aloud. 'Yeah,' he said. 'You'll die. That's what you deserve, after all. What all your kind deserve.'
'Me, perhaps,' she replied. 'But not all Minbari. If any of you learn anything from today, learn this. The sins of the one do not carry through to the many.'
'I think we should kill her now,' he said. 'Just so we don't have to listen to any more Minbari philosophy.' There was nervous laughter. Smith moved forward. 'And there's just the person to do it,' Trace said. 'Our executioner, so kindly come forward. Well.... you are going to accept this offer, aren't you? Or are you going to take her part over that of your own people?'
'No!' Smith cried. 'This isn't right.'
'It is right,' Delenn said. 'I came here to touch people. Maybe I have reached you.... If so, then my death will not be a waste. If just one person takes something good away from this....'
'I can't do it.'
'You must.... or they will kill you as well, and then my death will not mean anything. You cannot protect me from everything. You have done more than enough for me already, and I thank you for it.... but this you must do.'
'I....'
'I do not blame you.'
'I'm.... I'm.... sorry.'
'And so am I.'
'Here you are,' said Trace, tossing over a PPG. 'That'll do it nicely. A bit quick, but then I forgot to bring the nails for a crucifixion, so this will have to do.'
'Damn you,' he hissed.
'Never gonna happen. Why? I'm the good guy, remember. After everything she's done, I can't help but be the good guy. That's a nice feeling. I'll have to be the good guy again.'
'Do it!' cried someone from the crowd. There was half–hearted encouragement, but the fury seemed to have gone out of them.
'Yes,' Trace said, sensing this. 'Do it.'
'Go on,' Delenn said. 'I am not afraid. If you see John.... No. He knows. I will meet him again.'
'Do it!' cried Trace again.
Smith raised the weapon.
Delenn closed her eyes.
'Do it!'
He fired.
Delenn's body fell.
