No.
He wept.
Ambassador David Sheridan waited patiently for the President. Patience was a skill he had been forced to develop of course, but it came easier some days than others. Now it was coming with great difficulty. He had a feeling Clark was deliberately making him wait.
He was thinking about the future. Not, as was usual, about the distant future. No, he was not pondering the beginnings of empires, the large-scale construction of political blocs, alliances and treaties. He had the next fifty to a hundred years planned out in his mind, knowing full well he would not live to see it all come to pass. Another would carry on.
But he was not thinking about that now. He was thinking about Clark, and about how it might become.... necessary to fix that problem. Another Keeper was a possibility, but the first one had inexplicably failed. There was no guarantee a second would fare any better.
He had spent over two years wondering just what had happened to cause this, and he had formulated and discarded a number of theories. Ivanova could simply have botched the initial implantation, but she had remained adamant that she had acted as instructed. Well, she had dropped off the face of the galaxy now, and was of no more importance to anyone.
Could Clark have found a way to destroy the Keeper? No, impossible. Nothing short of suicide would do that. Besides, only alcohol could break the Keeper's control for long enough to manage that, and Clark was noted for his abstinence.
A rare genetic condition? That had happened, and Clark was keeping his medical records very secret.
"The President will see you now, Ambassador," said the secretary, and he looked up from his musings. Nodding to himself, he picked up his briefcase and wandered through the door and past the security guards, who saluted as he passed. He paid them no attention.
When he entered the cabinet chamber he was very irked to find that everyone else was already there. Well, he noted as he cast his gaze over those present, not quite everyone. Taro Isogi, who showed up infrequently as the voice of small business, was absent, as were the representatives from IPX and a few of the other leading MegaCorps.
In fact, he noted as he sat down, this looked very much like a council of war. He should have been happy, but he was not. He was suspicious.
His eyes met Welles' as he sat back in his chair. The Spymaster had his elbows resting on the table and his fingers steepled to form a mask of his face, as was his habit. Sheridan recognised Welles' desire to hide as much of himself as possible. He was suited to walk in the shadows, that one.
"Gentlemen," said Clark soberly. "I regret to report that the colony at Beta Durani was attacked and captured some hours ago. The early reports from our Shadow allies indicate that the garrison there has been destroyed, including the Marten. There is no word of Governor Young, and no one, civilian or military, has been yet able to escape from the area."
This was news to precisely nobody. Sheridan himself had been notified almost before Clark.
"The attacking ships are of unknown configuration, but the Shadows have informed us that they were composed of Vorlon technology. Also, they were supported by Drazi, Brakiri and Narn ships. It seems clear that this was the work of the United Alliance, perhaps in retaliation for our capture of their leader, perhaps simply the beginning of a war of aggression.
"Either way there is no time for diplomacy, and I doubt they would listen. I personally tried to speak with a member of the Alliance Council earlier today, only to be rebuffed.
"Where words will fail, force must be employed. We will retake Beta Durani, and push this war to Kazomi Seven itself if we have to. General Ryan, how long before we can launch a mission to liberate Beta Durani?"
The general shifted awkwardly in his seat. He was wearing his uniform of course, Sheridan had never seen him in anything else. He seemed to have lost weight recently. The uniform looked particularly ill-fitting, and his skin was acquiring a cadaverous hue. He bore all the signs of little sleep.
"It will not be easy, Mr. President. Even with the De'Molay and the Dark Thunder, our forces are limited. Of our capital ships, we now have only the Morningstar of the veterans of the Minbari War. We lost the Corinthian and the Babylon at Epsilon Three, and now the Marten. The Saint-Germain of course was designed purely as an exploratory vessel, and while she has greater combat capabilities than many of our pre-war ships, she is.... largely untested. And.... there is the matter of her captain.
"To launch such an offensive we will need heavy support from the Shadows, and a good number of Gropo units. A ground battle may be necessary.
"To be honest, Mr. President, I recommend strengthening security around Proxima and our other key colonies. Yes, we have been victorious in recent years, but we have still not fully recovered from the loss of Earth, and I doubt we will do that for many decades. We should...."
"We have skulked here in Proxima for too long!" Clark snapped. "We will not hide in the dark with our heads buried beneath a pillow. The Alliance has invaded our territory, attacked our ships, and killed our people! We defeated the Minbari, we will defeat them. Anyone who attacks us, we will destroy.
"The official declaration of war with the Alliance was sent to Kazomi Seven some minutes ago."
Sheridan knew he should be excited. This was what had been inevitable since the alliance with the Shadows. This was what the Shadows had wanted, a war, survival of the fittest, strength through conflict and growth through chaos.
But something in Clark's bearing made him ill-at-ease. And openly attacking Beta Durani! Ryan was right, they were not ready. Not yet. Warfare and chaos, yes, but not to the point of insanity and ruin. Sheridan planned to make humanity the dominant force in the galaxy, and that would not be accomplished with a madman as President.
"What about Sinoval?" asked Ryan suddenly, and Clark looked at him sharply. "Our previous standing orders were to ready our forces for a full assault on his base, believed to be somewhere in the vicinity of Tarolin Two. I assume those orders are rescinded?"
"They are not. Has the Saint-Germain any accurate star charts of the Tarolin Two area?"
"Not yet. They have reported some sort of conflict there, but details are scarce, and they are having to move secretly and stealthily."
"Well, if there is a war of some sort there, then we should capitalise on it." Clark smiled again. "General Ryan, we will have enough time to go bowling, and destroy the Alliance and Sinoval too."
Sheridan frowned. A war on two fronts. Even he knew how insane that was. Any minute now Clark was likely to suggest they invade the Centauri or something, although God only knew why anyone would want to.
"Mr. President," spoke up Pierce Macabee, the recently promoted Minister of Information, known locally as Dr. Spin. "How would you like this reported on ISN? I was thinking, maybe a posthumous medal for the captain of the Marten? What was his name?"
"Smith," said Ryan. "Captain Walker Smith."
"Smith?" Macabee sighed. "How very.... uninspired. No wonder I forgot it. Oh well, a posthumous.... Silver Star perhaps?"
"Yes, yes. Do whatever you see fit," snapped Clark. "Welles, what word on Delenn?"
Welles looked up, as if he had suddenly realised where he was. "She is.... currently undergoing the medical tests you ordered, sir," he said, slowly and cautiously. "The medical staff seem to think it will take a while. They are trying to be very careful and record as much information as they can."