301.
The arrangement had been working nicely for almost five years now. Trace had from time to time wondered just what his backer wanted with all those telepaths. He had some theories, but nothing he was sure of. To be honest, he did not really care. He knew who his backer was, and he was capable of throwing around enough money and power to buy out half of Proxima.
Trace was so close to getting what he had always wanted: respectability. He had been sounding people out about running for the Senate at the next election. There were rumours from Main Dome that the Wartime Emergency Provisions were to be relaxed, enough to start holding elections again. The local sector councils would be first. Within six months, he was betting. He could get a fair few people on there, he was sure. After that, the Senate election would follow. A year at most, he was certain.
And after that, well.... with his backer's assistance, would President Trace be too much to wish for?
A fine dream. All it took to rise in the world was perseverance, and a recognition of the sheer stupidity of others. Well, and luck, but someone or other — had it been Napoleon? — had said that everyone gets luck, both good and bad. It's the great people who know how to use it.
Trace liked the sound of that.
He reviewed the expected guests for tonight. An aide to Senator Macabee was rumoured to be bringing his new girlfriend, a couple of middle-placed execs at ISN and the first team of the Proxima Swashbucklers were meant to be along. Trace smiled, and made a mental note to let the bar staff know their drinks were on the house. He actually owned twelve percent of the Swashbucklers, and he was fairly certain of getting another ten percent or so within a few months. He'd have a majority shareholding before the end of the year.
Owner of a successful baseball team, huh? He chuckled, wondering what all his childhood friends would say if they could see him now. They'd probably curse at his luck, and say they could have made it out as well, but they'd been unlucky.
Some people never learned.
Trace headed out of his office and set off for the bar. You never knew when someone would pop in a little early, and he always liked mingling with the guests.
There were going to be two guests coming that night he had certainly not been expecting. But then, Dexter Smith and Talia Winters hadn't put their names down on the guest list.
Delenn had lost track of time. It did not seem to work quite the same way here. Of course, she remembered from her previous experiences as a prisoner that keeping track of time was difficult. It was easier to keep prisoners disoriented and uncertain.
They obviously still had not decided what to do with her. She did not really blame them. She wondered what was happening in the Alliance. They would not try to rescue her; she had made that completely clear in her message to Lethke. That had been when she thought she was going to die. How was she to know that Vejar would betray her like that?
Of course in his eyes it was not a betrayal. It was an important decision taking precedence over personal feelings. Delenn had done the opposite, putting her personal feelings before the good of the many.
No! The Alliance needed John more than it needed her. He was a warrior, a soldier, a leader of men. This was a time for warriors, not healers. Sinoval knew that. John knew that.
The Alliance could hold without her. She had made sure of that. Her message to Lethke had explained everything, all her plans for the furtherance of the Alliance, for the political and diplomatic aims she had been pursuing. She trusted him.
Her mind kept returning to the question she was afraid to ask. What would they do to her? She was thinking about Proxima, if the Shadows let Ambassador Sheridan have that much influence in the decision. A trial there for war crimes, a return to the prison from which John had freed her....
The door opened and she looked up, expecting Ambassador Sheridan, or her next meal. She was wrong on both counts.
'Delenn,' said a familiar voice, one she had not heard for years. She rose to her feet, trembling slightly.
'We have a great deal to discuss,' said Neroon.
At that same moment, above both their heads, the space around Z'ha'dum opened and the
'So that's Z'ha'dum,' muttered Corwin to himself. 'It doesn't look like much. There don't seem to be any Shadow vessels here.'
'They're here,' said the Captain. 'They're here.'
'So, what do we do now?'
The Captain was silent.
Chapter 3
Delenn of Mir, now the leader of the United Alliance of Kazomi 7, had been blessed with the love of five men during her life.
The first had been her father, who had passed from this world a few years after the fall of Earth and the Battle of Mars. He had been unable to reconcile his beliefs with the terrible consequences of the war to which his daughter had committed their people.
The second had been Dukhat, her teacher and mentor. It was he who had recognised the flame of destiny in her, and had nourished and nurtured it, raising her to the position she had been born to hold. If he could have realised the horror that would result from that choice, would he still have made it? Delenn did not know.
The third had been Draal, her father's dearest friend. He had died three years ago, killed by a stray shot on the verge of achieving a greater destiny than anyone could imagine.
The fifth had been Captain John Sheridan, for whom she had walked into darkness, sacrificed her future, and her people, and her heart.
But the fourth.... She had thought him lost for years now, and it had been years before that when they had last spoken. Neroon had chosen his own destiny, turning his back on the Rangers, on his leader Branmer, on his people, and on his one true love. He had gone to join Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. He had recognised the growing darkness within his people, and had known then that this war against the Shadows would have to be fought by others.
Now it seemed he had changed his destiny a second time and had sought a new path, one which had brought him here.... to a dead world at the end of the galaxy, and back into the life of his former love.
'Delenn,' he said, looking at her with his dark eyes. 'We have a great deal to discuss.'
'I would just like to say this is the craziest plan I have ever gone along with.'
'I heard you the first time. For that matter, I heard you thinking it the first time. For one of us, you really don't hide your thoughts very well.'
'The product of an unsophisticated upbringing, I'm sure. What do you hope to find in here?'
'Information. Just what Trace is doing with our people once he gets them, where he sends them to, who takes receipt.... why all this. And you may be interested in hard evidence of criminal activities, enough to take to Main Dome and help your poor, oppressed friends in Sector Three-o-one.'
'Right. Thanks for the reminder.'
'Oh, don't worry. I've done this hundreds of times before.'
'That's supposed to make me not worry?'
'You're too tense. I thought you said you'd spent all your time breaking into things as a child.'
'That was as a child. I've had all those years of Earthforce training and mindsets to turn me around since then.'
'Pity. If only we'd known, we could have done a great deal with you.'
'I was happy where I was.'
'Happy, really? I don't think so. I was watching you while I was on the