//May I have your attention, please.//

John Sheridan stood on the Babylon 5 command deck, hands clasped behind his back - his words obviously being broadcast throughout the station. Sinclair backed up a step, found the edge of his desk and sat, never taking his eyes from the screen. The hero of the Earth-Minbari war looked older than when Jeffrey had last seen him during the Mars food riots. Stress, pressure and the added responsibilities were all taking their toll, as evidenced by the fatigue in his face.

//In the last few hours we have learned that warships are coming this way from Earth. Their orders are to seize control of Babylon 5 by force.//

Warships. So it had finally come to that. If Sheridan defied the orders it would be civil war. If not, he and the other senior officers would be arrested and subjected to a general court-martial, still achieving the ends the opposing force desired. Taking control of a space station was not all they were doing - by capturing the bastion of Light, they would consign the rest of the galaxy to the mercies of the Shadows.

//As commanding officer and military governor of Babylon 5 I cannot allow this to happen. President Clark has violated the Earth Alliance constitution: by dissolving the senate; declaring martial law and personally ordering the bombing of civilian targets on the Mars Colony. He is personally responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people.//

A chill passed through the usually inscrutable Range One, prickling his skin with gooseflesh. He remembered the domes of Mars from when he was a boy; the almost fragile barriers that made habitation of the frigid, dusty world possible. In his mind's eye he could imagine the places he had grown up destroyed; the domes shattered like eggshells, spilling their contents into the deadly surroundings; people screaming, trying to squeeze into the deep shelters as the outrushing wind literally tore the air from their lungs and their exposed skin was frozen by the extreme cold. He could still picture the aftermath of the disaster of '29 that ISN had covered with chilling thoroughness when Atlantis Dome at Syria Planar had failed catastrophically. The images broadcast had been graphic in the extreme and had given the young Jeff and his brother nightmares for years about their own home dome cracking.

//Following these attacks, Orion 7 and Proxima 3 have broken away from the Earth Alliance and declared independence. Babylon 5 now joins with them. As of this moment, Babylon 5 is seceding from the Earth Alliance. We will remain an independent state until President Clark is removed from office.//

'Stirring speech,' Sinclair thought somewhat cynically, raising an eyebrow eloquently as he listened to Sheridan's declaration. Brave words and sentiments for a task which was virtually impossible. Almost as impossible as the Phoenix - an Earth Alliance frigate - destroying a Minbari War Cruiser.

But the difference in this case was that Proxima and Orion had planetary resources and enough ships of their own that they could conceivably hold off an attack by forces loyal to Clark. Babylon 5 was more or less on its own. Not to mention a hell of a lot closer to Earth. Certainly it had its defense grid and squadrons of starfuries, but what match would those be for destroyers?

//At the end of this current crisis, anyone who wishes to leave for Earth is free to do so. Meanwhile, for your own safety, I urge everyone to remain in your quarters until this is over. Thank you.//

The picture shifted to display the exterior of the station through securebot monitors. Two heavy cruisers floated in parking orbits near the station, one with heavy carbon-scoring consistent with a recent fire fight. Sinclair tilted his head, studying the image: the two destroyers must have been part of the force that had sided with

General Hague. From the camera angle, it was impossible to make out the registries, but this one picture made it clearer than anything Sinclair had yet seen or heard exactly what they were facing. This was civil war. Colleague against colleague; friend against friend. And there would be no winners in this conflict except the Shadows, who benefited from the internal dissension and strife.

In the background, the chatter in C&C continued uninterrupted and Jeffrey could hear Ivanova requesting permission to go out with the starfury squadrons. He felt his stomach tighten feeling somewhat helpless. Intellectually he knew that everything he was seeing had already happened, but he still felt himself reacting as if it were occurring in real time. He flicked his eyes toward Rathenn who was still seated, also watching the report. The Satai had probably received his own reports on the situation from Delenn already, and for a moment Sinclair was tempted to ask the outcome. Patience, he told himself, forcing himself to simply watch the events as they unfolded. The defenders of Babylon 5 had lived through this - asking the result would be the easy way out.

//Jump gate on line.//

The voice was familiar, and the face of a nervous young man in C&C sprang to mind, but Sinclair could not recall the officer's name. The camera angle shifted to show two destroyers and assorted support ships exiting the jumpgate.

//This is Captain Dexter Smith of the Earth Alliance destroyer Agrippa to Babylon 5 and renegade ships. You are ordered to surrender your ships and prepare to be boarded.//

Another camera switch back to the 'resistance' ships, and Sinclair could now see that one of them was the Alexander - Hague's ship herself. By now, Hague had been definitely identified as one of the instigators of this rebellion. The attack on the Alexander and her companion ships at the transfer point near Io had been short but vicious, with a number of 'loyal' Alliance ships disabled. That humiliation would make the attackers all the more desperate to cripple or destroy her. As the name of the other ship became visible, he felt another pang of recognition and clenched his fists. The Churchill. Sandra Hiroshi's command.

Sandra was another one of the survivors from the Line. One of the few left. Sinclair stared out the window, but did not see the clouds dotting the sky. Instead there was a dark sky-field surrounding him as he sat strapped into his starfury, helplessly watching the enormous ships bearing down on him. Knowing that no matter what they did here, it wouldn't be worth a damn: the ships were just too powerful. Then all around him ships exploding... each ship one of theirs... so many exploding stars...

//This is Captain Sheridan of Babylon 5. You are executing an illegal order in violation of the Earth Alliance constitution. These orders have forced us to declare independence in order to ensure the safety of this station. We don't want a fight, but if you attempt to carry out these orders we will defend ourselves.//

The Agrippa and the Roanoke had separated a bit to maximize their potential firepower. It was a standard technique Earth Alliance officers were taught during training. Underneath, in the background, he could hear Sheridan muttering:

//Come on, Captain, you must see these orders are wrong. Leave while you still can.//

He won't do that, Captain, Sinclair thought, rubbing at his forehead. He is as convinced that he's on the 'right' side as you are. The Ranger sensed more than saw Rathenn move up beside him, then a sympathetic hand was placed on his shoulder. Both of them knew that from the moment those cruisers had come through the gate it had been inevitable; that there had been no possibility of retreat. For either side.

//They've broken contact,// the officer with the familiar voice reported. Memory kicked in and associated a name with the face. Corwin: that was his name. Quiet kid who did his job. //Enemy starfuries moving in on attack vector. Orders?//

//Babylon Control to all starfury squadrons. Standby to attack. But do not, I repeat, do not initiate combat: let them fire first. We won't start this fight, but by God we'll finish it.//

The two forces of starfuries closed in on one another, indistinguishable. EarthForce against EarthForce. If the station had not been in the background, Sinclair knew he would not have been able to tell which side was which. He also knew once the fighting began the pilots themselves would have that same problem. It was so easy to get turned around during battle, and with the opponent's ships looking just like yours it was even harder than usual. Who were you supposed to be protecting and who were you supposed to be killing? Unconsciously, his hands gripped his knees, his knuckles whitening as he watched the tableau unfold.

//Enemy forces closing, entering firing range,// Corwin announced, only the barest hint of a tremor in his voice.

'Not enemies, kid,' Sinclair railed silently. They all wear the same uniform; they're all from the same place; they're all sworn to uphold the same ideals; they... The thought trailed off as he realized the precise implications. They. When exactly had he stopped thinking of himself as being part of the Earth Alliance? Was it when he had first donned the mantle of Entil'Zha at Rathenn's urging, with Delenn's backing? Or had it been before that: when he was abruptly forced from command of Babylon 5 and thrust into an unwanted Ambassadorial position where Earth Dome thought they could keep him out of sight and mind, yet still placate the powerful Minbari Federation?

He looked down at the rack on his desk; at the crystal sitting there, as he heard Sheridan ordering the blast doors closed and the defense grid to be activated. The crystal contained his recall orders to Earth, received just before everything started going to hell.

//Don't be a fool, Smith. You've got to see these are illegal orders. Don't make me do this.//

He had planned on ignoring the orders; pretending they had never arrived if questioned on it. After all, with all the strife it was not inconceivable that something as insignificant as a recall order would go astray. But he had expected a period of grace; had not expected the situation to escalate as quickly as it had into full-scale civil war. There was no going back now. He could no longer even hold on to the pretense of being Earth's Ambassador to Minbar. Earth Dome's intentions of keeping him out of the way had backfired. He was no

longer Jeffrey Sinclair, citizen of the Earth Alliance. He was Entil'Zha.

//Enemy fighters have locked on. Firing.//

The Earth Alliance destroyers began firing on one another and from the corner of his eye Sinclair could see the sympathetic expression on Rathenn's face

//Alpha squad, form up on my wing. Delta squad, punch us a hole through there.// Ivanova. From the response of the squadrons to her commands Jeffrey could even pick out which individual starfury she was piloting. He was pretty sure that this was her first full-scale combat situation: she'd been too young for the last war, but this was something she had trained for her whole adult life.

The small ships zipped and darted past one another, firing. Bright blossoms of flame marked fallen comrades on both sides. An incoming piece of debris headed directly towards the camera and there was a brief flash as it was destroyed and the perspective of the battle changed to another unit.

//Enemy fighters coming from the sides, trying to outflank us.//

//Reset forward interceptors for long range dispersion fire.//

Sheridan sounded cool and in command of the situation. The perfect commander. Santiago had been more cunning than his detractors had given him credit for when he had selected Sheridan to be the default replacement commander. The captain was lucky he looked so good on paper - the perfect officer. Off paper, however, it was clear Sheridan cared about what was right, not just following orders. Luckily for all of them no one had bothered to look beyond the record to see the real man.

//Ready.//

//Fire.// A steady stream of fire headed toward the incoming starfuries.

//Maintain approach.//

Ivanova again. Sinclair appreciated the fact whoever had compiled this report had blended the separate command channels, which allowed him to follow several parts of the battle simultaneously.

The Alexander took a significant hit, then accelerated toward the opposing forces. Cries from the command deck of the station made it clear they were not escaping unscathed either. Sinclair took a deep breath, trying to remind himself he was only listening to a recording of the battle; everything had already happened, and the outcome could not be changed.

//We've got a breaching pod coming in.//

Standard tactics: send in GROPOS to seize control of the command center and lower defenses. At that point the rebels would have no choice but to surrender the station.

//Where's it going?//

//Hull area. Brown 95.//

//Garibaldi.//

//Yeah, I heard. I'm in the area - we're on our way. Move, move: we gotta cut them off before they hit open ground. Let's go!//

Sinclair steepled his fingers against his lips. The last communique from Garibaldi had indicated that due to taking all the Nightwatch members off duty, security was seriously undermanned and they were relying on Narns for support. Mixing ground forces whose training differed radically for the first time in an actual combat situation was a disaster waiting to happen... He sat forward as a feed from one of the internal security cameras was inserted into the record. Michael was visible, dressed in black riot gear, as he ordered his forces into position, holding at an easily defensible juncture. Sinclair cursed in unison with his old friend as the Narns disregarded the orders to hold position and charged on obliviously, forcing Garibaldi to order an unnecessary advance. They charged on, rounding a corner and...

'Damnit,' Sinclair cursed silently, as the feed switched to externals again just as the breaching pod locked on. Watch yourself, Michael.

//Three enemy furies locking on.// Sinclair was impressed with how young Corwin seemed to be holding up in what was probably his first battle experience. He had the makings of a good officer there, assuming he survived the impending stupidity. Sheridan warned the crew to hang on as the defense grid fired - early enough to destroy the furies, but too late to avoid the incoming debris scatter.

Alarms blazed out, and the feed from C&C showed a smoky room with sparking panels as people scrambled to put out fires with hand-held units. Sheridan picked himself up off the deck, blood dripping freely from a head wound as he punched up readings on the main console.

//Give me a targeting solution on the Roanoke and standby to redirect all defensive fire.//

The slight hesitation in the captain's voice was obvious to Sinclair. Prior to this, the station had only fired defensively and at the one-person starfuries. Targeting the cruiser meant crossing that line and actively taking the fight to the opponent. The station's weapons did not have the pin-point accuracy that the starfuries maneuverability gave them. Shooting merely to disable the large ships was virtually impossible and Sheridan knew, as did Sinclair, exactly how many people were on a destroyer.

The furies continued passing rapidly, and more damaged hulks could be seen drifting aimlessly in space - some with lifepods clearly ejected, others merely piles of twisted debris bearing scant resemblance to the fighter craft they had once been.

//Coming around for another run.// Ivanova and her squadron wheeled.

//Commander, the Churchill,// the voice of an unknown pilot cut in.

Sinclair swallowed convulsively as the picture zoomed in on the burning hulk of the Churchill and felt dry eyes beginning to burn.

//Hiroshi, get out of there! Get to the lifepods!// Sinclair guessed the voice belonged to a ranking officer on the Alexander; desperation and helplessness warring in the tone. It was too late, and both of them knew it.

//Too late to get out.// Hiroshi's voice crackled, as communications began to fail. //Our primary systems are hit and we've got fire on all decks. There's nothing we can do except...//

Sinclair could see exactly what she was planning to do with her final breaths and averted his eyes as the dying Churchill lumbered forward on an unstoppable collision course with one of the attacking cruisers. Jeff could not bring himself to watch the inevitable fiery end to a brave woman's life. Beside him, Rathenn murmured a phrase in Adronato; a benediction to fallen heroes.

//Hiroshi?! Hiroshi!!//

The pain in the other man's voice echoed the pain tearing at Sinclair's heart, as he too lowered his head, hand on chest, and uttered a brief prayer for his friend's soul. God, what a waste war was. He had always wanted to be a man of peace - going so far as to live in a monastery for a few years after the Earth-Minbari war, until he had been dragged back by EarthForce to take charge of Babylon 5. But circumstances were conspiring against him once more. And the battles in this particular war had only just begun.

Sinclair was torn from his reflection by a sharp order from Sheridan:

//Ivanova, eject!//

//I can handle it.//

//Eject, dammit, eject!//

He could not tell whether a life-pod had jettisoned, but a split second later there was an explosion as an anonymous starfury splattered against the remaining heavy cruiser.

Oh God, not Ivanova too!

The Alexander fired on the Roanoke even as the station's defense battery lashed out in a withering stream of destruction. There was no way the already battle-weary cruiser could survive such an onslaught. The smaller ships continued to whirl and dart through the melee, adding their weaponry to the kaleidoscope of explosions.

//Babylon Control to Roanoke Your ship is out of control. Surrender and let us take on prisoners... We promise safe passage...// The desperation not to needlessly waste more lives echoed vibrantly through Sheridan's plea, but it was too late - the Roanoke disintegrating into a fiery wreck.

Sinclair swallowed, feeling the battle energy drain from him as if he had actually been there. Sheridan had managed to hold the station together this time, but at what cost? The Churchill and crew and God only knew how many starfuries. What would happen next time? Even Sheridan's reported tactical genius could not prevail when Earth sent more ships.

//Damage report.//

//Damage to all sectors. There's still fighting going on in Brown sector.//

Sinclair rubbed at his forehead, wishing the monitors in brown sector near the fighting had not been fragged. The uncertainty about his friends' fates - both Garibaldi and Ivanova - was gnawing away at him.

Sheridan had ordered more troops into the area and was asking about hull integrity.

//Not good,// Corwin responded. //EVA teams on route. Good thing it stopped when it did - we couldn't take much more.//

A monitor started to beep, and the Ranger tensed at the sound, snapping his head back up. Even though it had been eighteen months since he had been there, he immediately recognized the alert for the jumpgate sequence being activated. Corwin's 'oh no' coincided with Sinclair's first view of another group of Earth Alliance destroyers bearing down on the station. So Clark had not underestimated the potential threat of the rebels after all.

//This is Captain Drake to Babylon 5. You are ordered to surrender and prepare to be boarded by order of President Clark.//

Drake - he had been one of Clark's men even when the man had been vice president. While Sinclair had never met Drake personally, he had heard all the rumors...

There was a pause; absolute silence on all the open channels as the defenders awaited Sheridan's next order: to fight on or to surrender. The answer was obvious. As Military Governor of Babylon 5 Sheridan's first priority had to be the innocent civilians in his care. There was no choice in the matter.

//Captain, jump points forming on top of us.// Corwin's voice shook.

//How many?// The tone was weary and full of defeat: they had done their best, but were simply out-gunned. The Captain was mentally preparing himself for what had to follow - his surrender.

//Four.//

The camera of the securebot just happened to be pointing in the right direction and Jeff could instantly see what Sheridan could not and felt a wave of relief. The ships emerging from the jump points were Minbari Cruisers. So that's what Rathenn had meant. Three of the large, powerful and deadly ships that both he and Sheridan had learned to hate during the war, and the smaller profile of the White Star prototype; all of them placing themselves between the station and the on-coming Earth Alliance destroyers.

Delenn's face appeared on the monitor, transmitting to all parties. Gone was the gentleness that had marked her countenance since her change: her face declared she was Minbari and a force to be reckoned with. And considering the fact she was backed by three very large, very powerful ships, even Drake would pay attention.

//This is Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari. Babylon 5 is under our protection. Withdraw... or be destroyed.//

//Negative, we have authority here.// Drake was trying to bluster his way through. //Do not force us to engage your ships.//

'Don't be stupid, Drake,' Sinclair thought. Despite Earth Alliance propaganda to the contrary, and the mouthings of that idiot Senator Quantrell, Minbari ships could still wipe the floor with the best Earth had to offer. Delenn's tone was properly scornful:

//Why not? Only one human captain has survived battle with a Minbari fleet.// Sinclair almost smiled as she rubbed the fact in Drake's face. //He is behind me. You are in front of me. If you value your lives, be somewhere else.//

Even without recognizing the words of the challenge, Sinclair would have known she was translating from the Minbari simply by the cadences. The more subtle shadings of the ritual phrase would be missed by the human captain, but the threat was still obvious. With only minimal time for discussion, the ships turned tail and fled through the jumpgate.

Jeffrey Sinclair allowed the smile that he had held back at Delenn's words to show. He was glad he had not been in Drake's shoes - especially when the man had to report the incident back to Earth Dome. Delenn had been completely Minbari in her attitude and totally magnificent.

Dimly, he heard Sheridan ordering all ships to return to base, as his mind replayed those final scenes over. It had been close. Too damn close And not just for this battle, but for the larger ones with the Shadows looming on the horizon. Babylon 5 was going to serve as the obvious rallying point for ships in the upcoming war - a beacon against the dark. Had the minions of the Shadows attempted to precipitate the situation on Earth simply as a means of destroying a potential enemy, or was it part of their general strategy of dissension and strife?

The screen flickered as the battle overview came to an end, and a familiar face appeared. Jeff breathed a small sigh of relief as Garibaldi grinned at the camera. He was out of uniform, looking tired as he leaned back on his couch with one of his legs propped up on cushions.

"Hey, Jeff." He nodded at the screen. "Thought you'd like to see what went on here. Sheridan's busy coordinating things at the moment. Ivanova's a little banged up, but still able to blister people's ear-drums up in C&C. As the Doc has ordered me off my feet for the next twenty four," he waved at his leg, "I'm playing messenger boy.

We're currently doing repairs, but we're more or less holding together. The Alexander jumped early this morning, gone to try and hook up with some of the other ships that defected." His friend's face grew more serious, and Sinclair could feel the sympathy in the other man's gaze. "I'm sorry about Sandra - I know she was a friend of yours from the Line. You also have no way of knowing, but Hague was killed in a fire-fight near Proxima. Major Ryan's in

command of the ship."

Garibaldi drew his hand back over his close-cropped scalp. "Ryan's a good man, I guess, but I don't think he can fill Hague's shoes in running the resistance. Already, everyone's looking to Sheridan.

"The Minbari are still patrolling, so I think we'll be safe enough for a while from external threats. I don't think Clark would be dumb enough to risk it just yet." Michael loosed a chuckle, his eyes dancing. "Damnit, but I never thought I'd actually be happy to see Minbari cruisers again."

Safe from external threats, but Sinclair noted Michael had left unspoken the likelihood of sabotage from agents that must still be hidden on the station. Nightwatch infiltration of Babylon 5 had been very thorough.

"Watch yourself, Jeff. I'm sure you're safe enough on Minbar, but if you leave you'll be as much a target as the rest of us. I've heard rumblings along the grapevine that Earth Dome is just a bit unhappy with you at the moment for going 'native.' They seem to think that the opinions of your old pal Ari Ben Zayne have been proven - that you're a certified alien lover. And as you might have guessed already, back on Earth 'alien lover' is about the worst thing you can accuse people of these days. If I were you, I'd ignore any recall orders that might get passed your way."

"Already done, Michael," Sinclair murmured.

Garibaldi smiled once more, raising his hand in a gesture of farewell.

"Take care, old friend."

The message ended and the crystal was ejected automatically from the reader, but sat unnoticed in the slot.

Sinclair reached up and snapped off the Earth Alliance badge on his chest - the last visible sign that identified him as being the Alliance's designated representative on Minbar. The rest of his apparel was Minbari in style - the traditional garb that proclaimed him to be Entil'Zha. He turned the stylized "EA" over in his hands, running his fingers over the lettering and remembering the pride he had felt when he had first pinned it on. No more. With a brief sigh of regret, he laid it on his desk and looked up to find Rathenn watching him; silent and compassionate.

"It is time to put aside old lives, old ways of thinking," the former Commander intoned softly. He tilted his head slightly, considering the words and smiled briefly. "You know your Valen was a very wise person - I think I would have liked to meet him."

Rathenn's smile reminded him eerily of Delenn - Delenn before her change - when you knew she knew more than she was telling but didn't know what.

"Well, it is prophesied that Valen will return one day," the Satai said obliquely. "Perhaps you will." He extended his hands in the sign of triluminary and bowed. As he left, that strange smile was still in place.

---------------

End