“Branmer was a great man,” Draal said softly. He and Branmer had been friends.
“There have been many great figures in our history,” Delenn replied. “And all are dead.”
“Death claims us all sooner or later.”
“In far too many cases, it is the sooner.” Delenn looked down at Ashan. “We cannot keep the Council waiting. I will take the Zhalen up to the Council chambers. Thank you, Ashan.”
Delenn cast one last look over the glittering expanse of crystal colour and smiled sadly. Everything was changing, and not for the better. She suddenly shivered, and wrapped her robe more tightly around her as she walked to her ship.
“I am very grateful for your kind assistance, Administrator Na’Far,” Sheridan was saying. “With your help, repairs should only take twenty-four hours or so, and then we will be gone.”
“You are always welcome here, Captain Sheridan,” the Narn said, speaking slowly and precisely. Na’Far might have lacked the ruthless ambition to rise far in the Kha’Ri, but he at least had the keen mind and attention to detail that made him an excellent choice to run a colony, even one as small and generally unimportant as this. “We all owe you a great debt. I was at Gorash Fifteen when you helped us in our battle against the Centauri.”
“Yes, I know.” The Narns, eh? Great allies when it came to politeness and fawning, but ask for any ships or mines or high velocity fusion bombs, and it was all ‘not politically advantageous’ or ‘large sums of money needed to meet overheads’. They hadn’t been speaking about large sums of money or political advantages when he’d led the Babylon into the battle of Gorash 15, or to carry supplies to Frallus 12, or to launch that last, desperate attack against the Centauri at Sector 37.
Oh, stop moaning, Sheridan thought to himself. They have been useful allies after a fashion. At least they give us sanctuary from the Minbari and even sell us the odd fusion bomb or small cruiser every now and then. Better than no allies at all, I suppose.
“Thank you again for your assistance, Administrator. My Government greatly appreciates everything you’re doing for us.”
“It is a small matter, Captain Sheridan. Would you care to bring a few members of your command crew down to the surface for a little rest? I would very much like to meet you in person.”
“Why yes, thank you, Administrator. I would be honoured. I will see you in one standard hour, then.”
“Until then, Captain.”
The Narn’s face blinked from the viewscreen and Sheridan sat back, sighing softly. There was something about the Narns he just plain didn’t like. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but it always annoyed him, having to go grovelling to them for help. Perhaps that was it. He shouldn’t have to go grovelling to Narns for help. He shouldn’t have to go to a human colony and ask permission to set out orbit there. Dammit, he shouldn’t have to go to a human colony where the humans were ruled by Narns, worked for Narns and were taxed by Narns.
On the other hand, if the Narns hadn’t made such a swift move on Vega 7 and other colonies after the Battle of the Line, the Minbari might have turned their attentions there, and turned that planet into a desolate rock, just as they had Earth.
Captain Sheridan hadn’t been to Earth in over fourteen years, and now he would never return. The Minbari had stripped away the atmosphere, boiled the seas and oceans and destroyed every living thing on the planet. People like Corwin and Anna and General Hague had told him often enough that he couldn’t have got there early enough to do any good, but he should have been there, if only to die with his planet.
And now what was he? A rebel leader, a hero, a demon, a mass murderer, the Starkiller, husband, father, or simply a man who didn’t know when to stop fighting a war he couldn’t win?
“Commander Corwin, I’ll be going down to the planet for a personal meeting with Administrator Na’Far. Would you like to come as well?”
“I’ll be busy here, Captain, I’m afraid,” Corwin replied with false sincerity. Corwin liked Narns even less than Sheridan did.
“Very well. Lieutenant Franklin, contact Lieutenants Keffer and Connally. The four of us can fly down to the surface and socialise with a Narn or three.”
“Yes, Captain.” Franklin did not look happy, but then no one did these days.
Administrator Na’Far. A Narn ruling a colony of humans. Sheridan was not looking forward to this.
“Blasted reptile vermin! Oughta chuck ’em all back into space, if you ask me!”
“Marcus. You’re drunk.”
“Certainly hope so, or all that fine… whatever it was… will’ve gone to waste.”
Joseph Cole looked fondly at his wife Katherine, who smiled back and shrugged. Her shrug said it all. He’s your brother. Ergo, your problem.
“Only one step above the Minbari, I think. Oh, the Centauri too. Those ridiculous hairstyles of theirs. Wonder if they realise how stupid they look.” Joseph rose to his feet and moved towards his younger brother, who was gesticulating wildly. “Drazi, too! You’d have thought someone could teach them to put a proper sentence together. It’s not that hard. No, Joe, lemme ’lone.”
“Marcus, if you keep insulting aliens like you’ve been doing, you’ll get into a fight.”
“Fine, take ’em all on.” Fortunately for Marcus, the bar contained only humans at the moment. The Narns tended to stick to their own places and there were precious few other non-humans around. Vega 7 wasn’t exactly a thriving hub of activity at the best of times.
Katherine sighed softly. “And again.”
“He’s just drunk, that’s all. He doesn’t mean it.”
“He’s always drunk, Joe. He works on the mines all day and drinks all night. He’s going to kill himself one day. If a Narn doesn’t do it for him first.”
“I know, I know, but… it’s understandable really. Things haven’t been easy here under the Narns. Not since the War.”
“I know things haven’t been very nice here, but you can’t let Marcus just throw his life away. I care about him too, you know.”
Joseph turned back to his brother, who was trying to rearrange his hair into a Centauri crest. “Come on, Marcus. Let’s go home.”
“Home? Ain’t got no home. Minbaris destroyed it. Destroyed it all.”
Joseph sighed again. This was going to be a long night.
“You seem a little… on edge, Captain Sheridan?” Na’Far politely offered Sheridan a drink, which he equally politely refused. He’d tasted Narn drinks before. Connally hadn’t, and took it. A quick swallow later and she was clearly regretting it.
“Just a little… added tension from the fight, that’s all. I always feel like this after a mission.”
“I see. And what news of the Minbari? If that is not secret of course?”
“Same as usual, really. Just… well, holding their own.”
“I have some experience with the Minbari, you know. I was told that they always acted as one. When the war began fourteen of your years ago, they all went mad together. Perhaps they have all woken up together?”
“A little late for that, isn’t it?”
“What is the human saying? Better late than never?”
“I’ve never put much stock in sayings myself.”
“How are things with your Government, Administrator?” Franklin asked. He had travelled quite a way before the war, hitchhiking on starships of all things. He was one of the few people aboard the Babylon who’d ever met a Minbari face to face with both walking away alive. Franklin had been training to be a doctor until the death of his father a few years back. That had spurred him to seek out a position aboard the Babylon. He had enough medical knowledge to be an effective doctor, but he claimed to prefer this. Sheridan had known General Franklin quite well. ‘Old Firestorm’ had had a good death. Better than many others.