A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

The war for Proxima is over, has been over these past four weeks. The evil, corrupt Government of President Clark is finished, Clark himself is dead. His accomplices and associates are for the most part dealt with - dead, such as the feared Chief of Security, Mr. Welles, or imprisoned and awaiting trial, such as the leader of the Earthforce fleet, General Ryan.

This war is over, the greater war continues. The villains were defeated, the heroes were victorious.

Of course, that all depends on your point of view.

Captain Bethany Tikopai of the EAS De'Molay was tired, had been tired for the past four weeks. She did not want to be here. She wanted to be anywhere but here. She wanted a proper shower with proper water. She wanted a real cup of coffee. She wanted a decent night's sleep. And she wanted to be with her daughter.

She had always known a soldier's life would involve sacrifices, putting aside personal desires for the good of others, doing what was right for the many and not the few. She had always known she would have to fight for the good of her people.

She had just never thought she would have to fight her own people.

It was hot here, very hot. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, it all pulsed with heat. It was cooler now than it had been, but at one point the soles of her boots had been almost melting in the heat from the floor. Sweat covered her completely like a second skin, and her long dark hair, strands coming loose from her braid, was lumpy and sodden.

An absurd thought had come to her a few days ago, when she was lying in bed desperately trying to snatch even a few hours sleep, but unable to rest for the heat and the worry. She remembered years ago, when Julia had been ill with a fever. Her skin had felt so hot to the touch, almost burning. Was that what was happening to the De'Molay? Was the ship ill?

It was crazy, but no crazier than the events of the past four weeks. There had been something strange about this ship ever since it had been launched, and after it had been hit by that strange blast at Proxima nothing had gone right. It had taken a great deal of effort from Jaiena in Engineering even to get the De'Molay moving again. The constant running and fighting since then had only made things worse. Jaiena was probably the only person on the whole ship getting even less sleep than Bethany was.

Except after today it would all probably be academic. Captain Barns and his Dark Thunder had been run to ground and captured three days ago, and with him had gone any hope of an effective fight–back. It was over, and the three Dark Star ships surrounding the De'Molay proved it.

Still, while there was life, there was hope.

'How long for jump engines?' she asked, knowing it was pointless. The last time they had fled, the Dark Stars had been able to follow them into hyperspace and actually begin an engagement there. Only some incredibly stylish manoeuvring had got them away from that one. DeClercq's Saint–Germain could have run rings around them in hyperspace and had them chasing their own tails, but that was academic too. DeClercq was dead, his Saint–Germain a heap of fused metal.

'Too long,' replied Paul Telluride, her first officer. He was cynical about their chances of survival, and why shouldn't he be?

The ship shook from another blast, and Bethany's hand rubbed against her armrest. She withdrew it sharply, wincing. It was unbelievably hot!

'They took out our dispersion fire,' Paul said. 'Dammit, why don't they just finish us?' Bethany said nothing. They wanted her alive. They wanted scapegoats. 'Hah! We're getting a signal. It's from their lead ship.'

'Put it on,' she replied tiredly.

'But....'

'It doesn't matter what they want to say to us now. We're finished anyway. We might as well give them the satisfaction of saying it.'

Paul muttered angrily as he put the message through. There should have been a technician to do that, but the De'Molay was operating under severely reduced capacity nowadays, less than a quarter of normal complement.

A face appeared on the screen, Communications being one of the few things Jaiena had been able to fix that hadn't immediately broken down again. The man seemed young, too young, and terribly earnest. Bethany thought she recognised him, but she couldn't be sure.

'Agamemnon to De'Molay. This is Captain David Corwin of Dark Star Three, the Agamemnon. Do you receive me, De'Molay?'

Corwin. That was it. Sheridan's right–hand man and former second. Well, if the Starkiller couldn't come himself, at least he had sent his personal hunting dog to do this for him.

'This is De'Molay. Captain Bethany Tikopai here. Well.... isn't this where you deliver the 'it's all over' speech?'

Corwin frowned. He actually looked genuinely troubled. 'No,' he said finally. 'This is where I ask you to give yourselves up. We're fighting for the same things, really. It just doesn't.... look like it right now.'

'Yes? We're not fighting for lies, or selling out our Government to aliens, to the Narns and the Minbari. We didn't betray humanity.'

'And neither did we! Dammit, Captain, there are too many enemies out there for us to be fighting each other. My orders are to bring you back to Proxima, in however many pieces I feel necessary. I don't want to kill you. I've had enough of fighting my own people. I'm sick and tired of it.' He sighed. 'Whatever you might think, Captain, we really are both fighting for the same thing in the end.'

'What's that?'

'A better world.'

Bethany sat back. The heat didn't seem to bother her so much now. 'I want a complete amnesty for all my crew,' she said simply.

'Bethany!' cried Paul suddenly. 'You can't....'

'Granted. I don't know how it'll be honoured, but I'll draw up the wording myself and ram it down people's throats until they listen.'

Bethany nodded. 'A better world, huh? Is this your idea of a better world?'

'Maybe not.... but I'm going to keep trying to create one. Proxima needs loyal soldiers, it needs people like you.'

'I'm tired of this. Besides, I think you mean it. It's strange, but I really do. I'm even too tired to make threats about what will happen if you're lying.'

'I'm not.'

'I don't think you are. Fine.... it's over. You win. We surrender.

'We're going home.'

* * *

'I will.... be going then.'

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the dark thoughts that echoed in John Sheridan's mind. Accusing thoughts, angry and bitter.... And some of them were directed at the woman in front of him.

'That's.... probably for the best,' he said finally, hating himself for the words. It was true. It was for the best. Politically, militarily, personally....

Delenn had to return to Kazomi 7. The Alliance was holding together, just, but the recent tensions with the Narns, the revelation that the Centauri had allied themselves with the Shadows, the expense of the war.... they needed someone there, someone special. Not just a leader, a symbol.

That had to be Delenn. She was the only choice. She was the leader of the Alliance after all, and also the most obvious symbol of the alliance of races. No one else would do. Lethke and Vizhak were merely administrators, G'Kar represented only the Rangers and his own people, Vejar was hardly ever seen these days.... It had to be Delenn.

'You'll be.... safer there,' Sheridan continued, the words sounding pathetic and forced even to him. 'We're