"Hey, Chief." Zack Allan announced himself as he entered the main security office. It looked quiet, for once, and Garibaldi had his feet up on the desk, reading reports.

"Zack. Going off-duty?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Actually, I thought I'd go for dinner...Pick up some pizza, maybe...or, uh..." He suddenly realized that Garibaldi wasn't really paying him any attention. He sighed. "Have you seen Lyta around?"

Garibaldi didn't look up from his papers. "Yeah, last I saw she was heading off to dinner with the Jedi."

"Oh. Right. See you later then."

"Yeah." Garibaldi looked up then, but Zack was gone.

**

"It sounds so...unbelievable," Lyta said to the calm young Jedi sitting across the table from her. "I mean - it's completely unheard of, around here."

Luke carefully used the Force to lower the salt shaker and various other table implements that he'd been using for a quick demonstration, and gave her a quizzical look. "Why is that? You've said telekinetics have been talked about for centuries, and it's obvious that a number of people here have heard of the Jedi."

"Well, in fiction, yes," Lyta answered, still looking in amazement at the napkin holder, "and in the twentieth century, everyone thought they had some kind of psychic power. But..." She looked up, met disturbingly calm ice-blue eyes. "Well, you're certainly not a teek like our kind, and the Corps would probably kill to get their hands on such a powerful empath."

Luke frowned, interested. "You said I'm not a telepath by your standards - what standards are those? Do you know where the telepathic power of Humans and aliens comes from? Is it something in the DNA, some kind of..." he trailed off, realizing he must have said something wrong. Lyta had closed up on all levels, physical and psychic, and was refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean..."

"It's all right," she said quickly, meeting his gaze again, but there was something dark there, some hint of old pains. The topic of conversation changed quickly, as telepath and Jedi continued their respective debriefings.

**

"Can I get you another drink?" Ambassador G'Kar sounded like he'd had quite a few already, Han thought, hiding his smile as he passed his glass across the table to the waiting Narn.

"Sure, why not?" Han had only had one drink to the ambassador's three; he normally wouldn't have bothered with that kind of restraint, but getting drunk while being entertained by a completely unknown alien ambassador didn't seem like a good idea, especially when Leia wasn't around to bail him out of any stupid comments he might make.

As it turned out, Han hadn't been doing much talking. Ambassador G'Kar hadn't invited Han to dinner just to be sociable; he had an agenda. Not five minutes into the conversation, after G'Kar had explained his theories on what he called both breen and Swedish meatballs and Han recognized as nerf in gravy, the ambassador had set off into a tirade about the war his people were waging against the Centauri. Han had tried to be noncommittal, knowing that there was no way he - or any of their group - could let themselves be dragged into this conflict, but considering G'Kar's dominating personality, apathy was becoming difficult.

He was at it again, now, even as he poured fresh drinks for them both. "And now," he exclaimed with fervor, "Now they expect us to simply lie down and take it! To accept their occupation and simply forget about the past hundred years of conflict!"

"Terrible," Han muttered in as much of a monotone as he could manage, gratefully picking up his drink.

"It is, it is," said G'Kar, sitting down across from Han and leaning forward in a conspirital manner. "Surely you see how just a few more ships, a few more supplies on our side could swing the balance and help us throw out the Centauri oppressors!"

This was what Han had been expecting to hear all afternoon. He tried to look shocked. "Now, wait a minute, Ambassador. I understand your position, and I sympathize, I really do, but there's just no way we can get involved in your situation..."

"But whyever not? Just a couple of ships, that's all I'm asking." G'Kar looked taken aback as well, but Han was pretty sure it was just the same kind of acting. He shook his head.

"Well, first off, I don't know if I could even get ships here - hell, we don't even know how we got here. Then we don't know if we could ever get them back. And most important -" he raised a finger, cutting off the ambassador's protests - "we have problems of our own, a Republic to get off the ground, and no one would ever forgive us if we got involved in something like this, in a totally different galaxy, no less. I'm sorry, Ambassador." He wasn't, really, but it had to be said. He'd learned something from Leia, after all.

G'Kar was shaking his head mournfully, though he didn't seem particularly surprised. "I do hope you'll reconsider."

"I doubt it." Han stood up, glancing at the door. "I really ought to be going."

"Of course, of course," G'Kar said, leading him to the door. "Thank you for your time, General Solo."

Han nodded politely, then, relieved, headed back towards what he was pretty sure was the direction of their quarters. He was quite disturbed at the fact that he had very nearly enjoyed arguing with the ambassador. Leia might make a politician out of me yet, he thought, suppressing a shudder.

**

Lord Refa fiddled nervously with his drink, uncertain if he dared take a sip. Not, of course, that it made any difference. Imperial Grand Admiral Feroon did not seem the sort to resort to such subtle methods as poison if he should decide he wanted someone dead. But then, it was the principle of the thing. Refa had been invited - summoned, rather - to a private meeting with the admiral, without Mr. Morden, without his Centauri guards, without even that disturbingly calm Admiral Pellaeon. It made him nervous.

"Surely you understand why I requested to see you here without Mr. Morden," Feroon said suddenly, diverting from whatever topic he had just been on, leaning forward over the table.

Refa blinked in surprise. Surely - but no, some of the others had told him that in their galaxy, there were no telepaths, except for the now-extinct and hated Jedi. Feroon must simply be a very perceptive man. Refa took a drink to steady his nerves. "I think I am beginning to see your purpose," he said cryptically. He saw no such thing, really, but he was hardly going to tell the imposing Grand Admiral that.

Feroon seemed to know anyway. "Mr. Morden and his - associates, does he call them? - the Shadows seem to have quite the monopoly of influence in the area," he began.

Refa frowned. "Not exactly. The Vorlons and the Minbari are still closely tied, and the Humans -"

Feroon waved a hand dismissively. "Insignificant. From the way things stand now, it is clear who the new power shall be in the galaxy." He paused to assure Refa's complete attention. "The Shadows."

"And the Centauri," Refa added.

Feroon shook his head slowly. "I do not think that that is in their plans," he said. "That, however, is where I believe I can help you. The Empire has great interest in expanding into other galaxies than our own, but we do not have the manpower to maintain the presence we would need. We would require your help."

"Indeed," said Refa, leaning forward a bit and setting down his drink. Perhaps he had no reason to be nervous after all. This meeting was beginning to look quite profitable.

**

Climatization, thought Leia. Wasn't that the word? The means through which one can get used to anything with enough exposure to it. Even, she thought, looking down at her plate, eating little cubes of blue…something. She couldn't quite bring herself to call it meat. The conversation was marginally better, if of predictable topic.

"I mean, obviously we need to be finding some way of getting back," Wedge was saying to Lando. "Thing is, when we don't even know how we got here -"

Han was being unusually quiet, focusing on his dubious lunch and not engaging in his usual good-natured arguments. It was the first time they had all been in the same place at the same time since they had arrived; Luke had suggested that they all get together. Even the droids were there, hovering on the edge of the group and bickering.

The topic on everyone's mind was, of course, home. Two weeks of this was just long enough to make them feel that they were overstaying their welcome, but at this point there didn't seem to be much in the way of options. Neither Han nor any of the fighter jocks knew anything about the jumpgates they had entered, and no one here knew anything about hyperdrive. Finding out how they had interacted was difficult at best. Luke had mentioned something about an Ambassador Kosh who might be of some help, but it had been in the middle of a long discussion on local telepaths, and Leia hadn't really followed.

All of the other ambassadors, on the other hand, seemed more than willing to help. The Minbari seemed genuinely interested, but nearly everyone else was taking the opportunity to advance their own interests.

"President Organa! How wonderful to meet you at last." Ambassador G'Kar, for example. Leia had to hide her exasperation with a polite smile. It just never stopped, wherever you went.

"Ambassador," she said formally, extending a hand to shake. G'Kar raised it to his lips instead, bowing slightly over it. Han frowned in irritation.

"I had the most interesting conversation with General Solo yesterday," G'Kar began in earnest. "We were discussing -" he was cut off short by the loud conversation that had been struck up on the other side of the group.

"General Calrissian! How good to see you again; here, let me join you in a drink." The Centauri ambassador had, apparently, decided to press his advantage as well. Ambassador G'Kar looked thoroughly perturbed as Lando greeted Mollari with the same kind of excessive enthusiasm.

"Mollari!" yelled the Narn. "What is the meaning of this?"

Mollari had a truly excellent 'innocent' face; Leia was sure that he was a card player. "Whatever do you mean?" he responded. "I was merely stopping by to have a drink with friends -"

"Nonsense! You're taking the opportunity to spread that - that Centauri propaganda of yours! I know the way you work," he added, moving around the table and shaking a finger in Mollari's direction.

"How I work? Centauri propaganda? It is the Narn who have been spreading vicious rumors - "

Han stood up quickly, placing himself directly between the quarrelling ambassadors. "Now, gentlemen," he said in a tone he usually reserved for appeasing angry Hutts, "if we could all just calm down a minute…"

"I refuse to calm down when presented with such ridiculous accusations," spluttered Ambassador G'Kar.

The argument showed no signs of actually slowing down, so Leia started to rise and see what she could do towards calming the ambassadors, when they were all interrupted by another voice.

"Is there a problem over here? Ambassadors, Mrs. President?" It was Garibaldi, the security chief. To Leia's surprise, the ambassadors stopped arguing as soon as they noticed Garibaldi, and her respect for the man rose several notches. She had been certain that nothing short of a collapse in the nuclear reactor was really going to stop those two.

"No problem," she said coolly when it became obvious that no one else was prepared to answer. "Only a bit of a…disagreement, I think."

Garibaldi nodded, amusement playing across his face as if he were all too aware of what had been going on. "Sorry to interrupt, then," he said, looking pointedly at G'Kar and Mollari. "You all have a nice day." He stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered off.

"I…eh…" Mollari said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "There is something that I must attend to. If you will excuse me," he said quickly, nodding to Lando and then to Leia before taking off in a direction opposite to Garibaldi's.

"I too have things that need my attention," G'Kar added quickly. He bowed sharply before disappearing through the crowd in yet another direction.

Leia shook her head in amusement as she settled back down in her seat. An explosive situation, indeed. The Narn and the Centauri alone seemed enough to destroy whole worlds.

"No one else even seems to have noticed," Luke said quietly, sounding as though he were trying not to laugh. It was true - life in the Zocalo had continued on as usual, without having paid any attention to the screaming ambassadors. "Worrying, isn't it? It makes you wonder how often they do this," he added with a little grin.

Leia could only nod.

**

Earhart's, the officers' bar, was named for the famous aviator from the 1930's and was thus decorated from that era. The music was almost always jazz and swing, to fit the theme, but occasionally bled into other 20th century genres. Tonight someone had decided to be funny, and there were John Williams scores playing. It fit the mood - the topic of discussion was the same at nearly every table.

"Well of course they have to get back to where they came from," Garibaldi was saying. "For one thing, the Narn and the Centauri are already all over them. But she's President of practically the entire galaxy -"

"Not a job I'd envy," Sheridan cut in.

"Granted," Garibaldi agreed. "And Skywalker there is the only remaining Jedi, and the rest are all decorated generals and such. So of course they have to get back. The only question is how."

Ivanova nodded thoughtfully. "There's all kinds of interesting readings in the gate logs from when they came through, but no one has any clue what they mean. I mean, if not for them being here, we'd just think they'd been miscalibrated."

"Has anyone spoken to Kosh?" asked Franklin. "If anyone would know about this, it'd be the Vorlons."

Sheridan grimaced. "Yeah, but could you get anything out of him? I mentioned it to him after the council meeting yesterday, and he just came back with one of the usual Koshisms."

Garibaldi put on his best straight-faced Vorlon impression. "Yes. No. The question does not precede the answer." He slumped back down in his chair and took a drink of his water. "He's like some nutty old Zen master sometimes. Makes you wonder what he's really doing here." The others all nodded in agreement.

After a brief silence, Ivanova said, "You know what I find strange about this whole situation - they've been here what, two weeks?"

Sheridan nodded. "Two weeks, three days."

"And there hasn't been a single report of Shadow activity in that time. Now granted, they've laid low longer than this before, but does it strike anyone else as strange that they've chosen this particular time to pull back?" She looked pointedly around the table, and there was a rather uncomfortable silence.

"Well, now that you mention it…" Franklin mused.

Sheridan shook his head. "You know, Susan, you have a really amazing knack for finding even more things to worry about."

"It's a Russian thing, sir," she said in mock seriousness, lifting her vodka in explanation.

**

Pellaeon stood at strict attention on the bridge, head held high, hands firmly clasped behind him, disapproval radiating from every pore. Feroon, as usual, took absolutely no notice, though Pellaeon was sure he was aware of it. Lord Refa, on the other hand, was looking increasingly nervous. The little Centauri had started out in a position similar to Pellaeon's but was by now beginning to pace a bit and fiddle with something in his vest pocket. It was beginning to get annoying.

They had been orbiting the planet opposite Babylon 5 for nearly a quarter of an hour while their fighters prepared for the attack. They were almost certainly ready now - they could be ready in less than three minutes, when necessary, but they liked to take some time when they could. A TIE fighter could frequently be an unstable thing. But yes, they should be ready by now. After receiving a nod from the Grand Admiral, Pellaeon turned and was about to give the order to move out when Refa finally spoke up.

"I am still not certain that this is the proper course of action," he said, visibly drawing himself up and taking a few paces forward.

Feroon turned around calmly, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "You feel, perhaps, that we of the Empire do not have the ability to win a victory in this situation?"

Refa's every motion froze immediately. "I merely wish to point out that no one has ever won a victory against Babylon 5, and few have tried. They have many resources -"

"Irrelevant." Feroon waved a hand dismissively. "After all, we have the element of surprise, forces they are not used to dealing with…"

Refa still didn't look pleased. "I do not see how such an aggressive move is necessary," he muttered, half to himself.

Feroon turned back to the forward viewscreens, calmly folding his hands again. "We must assert our authority in the most visible way possible." Ridiculous, thought Pellaeon. Refa had obviously not grasped the significance of the X-Wings they had encountered earlier. There should be no X-Wings here; there should be nothing recognizable but the Black Jewel and her fighters. Feroon had decided that they should be destroyed. Pellaeon felt that it would be wiser to find out first how they had gotten here before taking any drastic action.

"Admiral," Feroon called out.

But then, Feroon was the Grand Admiral. Pellaeon gave the order to break out of orbit and approach the station, uninterrupted this time. They were past the point of no return; the battle had begun.

**

"…so the shields are basically just an electromagnetic shell around the ship," Wedge finished, patting his X-Wing fondly. He and Commander Ivanova had decided to take the opportunity to examine each others' fighters, and they'd just come back from a practice run around the station.

Ivanova shook her head in disbelief. "But that shouldn't work. Earthgov has been experimenting with electromagnetic shielding systems like this for years, and they've never managed a workable prototype." Wedge was at a loss for a reply; he knew it worked, he knew how to do basic maintenance on it, but beyond that he was clueless.

He was rescued, if you could call it that, by the red alert sirens exploding into action. Only a few seconds later, Wes, Tycho, and Hobbie came barrelling into the docking bay, all of them mostly suited up. "Super Star Destroyer," gasped Wes as he lunged for his X-Wing.

"What?" Wedge replied, but he thrust his helmet on and leapt back into the cockpit of his own fighter. The commander had already made for the 'fury bays. It took Wedge only a few seconds to have his fighter ready to launch.

"Rogue Three, ready to go," came Tycho's voice through the comm.

"Rogue Four, online."

"Rogue Two, ready and willing."

Wedge settled a bit, his mind already switching over to that bizarre calm he always felt before battle. "Rogue Leader; let's go."

**

The four X-Wings came out of the bay at maximum speed, locking in S-foils as soon as they were clear. Just behind them, a starfury squadron swung out of their bays, lead by Ivanova's Russian star.

"Mynock, scan the area for fighters - that Star Destroyer probably has at least a few," Wedge called back to his astromech droid. The droid beeped in acknowledgement, and as he went to work, Wedge switched to the Rogue's comm frequency. "Rogues, make sure you set your targeting systems to recognize those Starfuries - we don't want to have to worry about friendly fire, too."

"On it," Janson called back. "Any chance of synching frequencies with them?"

"Rogue Two, this is Delta Leader," responded Ivanova, sounding amused. "We're with you."

"Great!" said Janson. "Now the party can start. Squadron of eyeballs, klick and a half away and closing. Got a plan, O fearless leader?"

"Sure," Wedge said, "shut up and get on 'em. We have them outnumbered, and besides," he added with a grin, "we're Rogues."

"Fabulous," Ivanova muttered, "is the whole squadron this cocky?" But the TIEs had gotten into range, and as the first laser bolts started to fly, no one bothered to answer her.

**

Everything seemed to be going well. The station was on full alert, and while they hadn't taken out any enemy fighters, they hadn't lost any either. Still, Pellaeon couldn't shake his concern. He was doing his best to keep the Jewel out of direct combat, but he was nearing the point where he'd have to fight the Grand Admiral for it, and that wasn't something he wanted to do.

"Sir, the fighters have moved to the far side of the station," one of the bridge techs called out. Pellaeon opened his mouth to reaffirm the order to hold position, but Feroon got there first.

"Excellent," he said, "bring us in closer to the station and open fire, forward batteries."

It took great force of will for Pellaeon to swallow his objections. Talking with one of the Centauri guards he had learned about the station's formidable firepower, and he was sure that they were only holding off until the Jewel attacked directly. It may not be suicide going up against Babylon 5, but it was certainly close. It was…

"I don't really think that's a good idea," came Mr. Morden's voice from behind. Pellaeon and Feroon whipped around simultaneously, and the two Imperial officers glared at him. No one had seen or heard Morden enter the bridge, and yet here he was. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for entrances of the sort.

Pellaeon may have been shocked, but Feroon was furious. This on top of Refa's earlier objections seemed to be more than enough for him. "I was not aware that I was in a position to be questioned on my own bridge," he said in a deceptively quiet tone.

Morden chuckled softly, displaying his trademark grin. "I'm not questioning you, Grand Admiral. I merely don't think that attacking the station would be a good idea."

"And why is that?" Vader would have gone for a force choke by now, thought Pellaeon distractedly. He felt oddly distant from the confrontation, as if he were watching a fascinating explosion from a thousand miles away.

"Babylon 5 is an obstacle, but not yet an immediate threat," Morden explained. "As a matter of fact we find it quite useful for the time being. Destroying it would be in no one's best interests." That infuriating grin returned as soon as he stopped speaking. He paused for a moment, as if listening to something. "Now if you'll excuse me." He turned, stopped, turned back. "Lord Refa, if you would kindly join me," he said.

Refa looked entirely shocked. "I am not sure," he began, but was sharply cut off.

"Please." The smile was still there, and the tone was almost polite, but there was an iron note of command in Morden's voice. Refa glanced around nervously only once before following Morden off the bridge.

Feroon watched them leave silently, then turned back to the forward viewscreens. "Move in closer to the station and open fire," he ordered.

Pellaeon finally gave voice to his objections. "Grand Admiral, such an attack would almost certainly - "

"The Empire does not take orders, implied or otherwise, from its rivals. Open. Fire."

With great trepidation, Pellaeon nodded to the navigation officer. Whatever came out of the battle, he had a bad feeling about this.

**

Wedge yanked on the flight stick, pulling his X-Wing up out of a dive and coming up behind a TIE. He opened fire, but the other fighter danced out of the way at the last second. "Damn," he muttered. "These guys are way too good." Tycho had finally gotten one a few moments before, but that had been the first score on either side. The TIEs were taking full advantage of the station as an obstacle, but hadn't opened fire on it just yet. Wedge had his suspicions as to why, and was keeping a close eye on the Star Destroyer whenever he could spare it.

He was glad he had been when it opened fire directly on Babylon 5, aiming at the Command & Control center. Before anyone could react, nevermind that there wasn't much productive that they could do to react, a series of blue bursts shot out from the station's defense grid, blocking the red glare of the Star Destroyer's shot and shattering it.

"Whoa," Wedge said in amazement. "So that's what 'interceptors' are for."

Ivanova laughed back over the comm. "Yep. No worries about the station; they can take care of themselves."

"I can see that," Wedge said with a grin. Finally able to stop worrying about the Star Destroyer, he swung his X-Wing around and joined a Starfury in chasing down a TIE that had gotten a little too close.

He was so intent on the chase that he didn't even notice the new addition to their party until he heard Tycho's astonished exclamation.

"What the Sith..."

That seemed to be a pretty apt description, actually. They didn't look like ships as much as giant space-dwelling spiders; their skins glistened like black crystals, and they moved like water over stones. They were almost beautiful, but terrifying. They screamed as they came up on the dogfight, a battle cry that echoed through Wedge's ship and almost made him clap his hands to his ears, as useless as that gesture would have been.

"Shadows!" Ivanova was shouting. "Pull back; stay out of their way!"

"What, and just let them - "

"Yes, and just let them!" she shot back. "There's nothing we can do about them, believe me."

The TIE Wedge had been chasing took the opportunity to break off and head towards the Star Destroyer, but it only made it a quarter of the way there before a bright beam leapt from the nearest Shadow ship, slicing the fighter neatly in half just before it exploded.

That was all the motivation the others needed. As the X-Wings and Starfuries clustered close to the station, the remaining TIE fighters made a desperate break for their Star Destroyer. The Shadows, though, were much faster than the Imperial ships, and continued to carve fighters off the edges of the formation until the initial squadron of thirteen was cut down to only five.

Just as the remaining TIEs reached the Star Destroyer, the jumpgate swirled open, colored orange for departure.

"What the hell is that?" snapped Ivanova, sounding furious and confused.

"I'm...not sure," came the voice of the young man from Command & Control. "We certainly didn't do it - can the Shadows do that?"

"Looks like," Ivanova replied grimly. "But what could they be trying to do?"

"I wonder..." muttered Wedge to himself. It was a long shot, but just maybe... "Babylon Control, what do the readings on that jumpgate look like?"

"Not normal," Control answered after a moment. "Actually, they look like - " he stopped, then continued, understanding. "They look like when all the Republic ships came through."

Wedge smiled grimly. He'd thought that was the case. In all probability, the Shadows had just opened them a portal straight back home. "You'd better call up the others - we don't know how long this thing is going to stay open, or if we could ever replicate it."

"On it."

"And keep that jumpgate open as long as you can," Ivanova added.

"On it, Commander," answered the long-suffering Control officer.

"Think we ought to start moving in towards the gate?" Janson asked after a moment.

Wedge shook his head. "Negative. Those Shadows don't seem to have noticed us yet, and I don't really want them to. We'll follow the Star Destroyer." Having collected its fighters, the massive vessel was moving toward the jumpgate. The Shadow ships hung back, but they turned to follow its progress, as though they were watching it.

A few moments later, the comm crackled and Han said, "All right, Wedge, we're all here and ready to go. Just give the word. And by the way - I hope to hell you're right about this."

Wedge grinned. "So do I, or we're gonna be in a lot of trouble. Hold on for a minute, though. I want to see if those Shadows are planning on sticking around."

Everyone watched tensely as the Star Destroyer vanished through the jumpgate, electricity crackling up and down the sides of the ship that might have been the result of B5 Control trying to keep the gate open, or might have been because of something else. Just as the aft end of the ship disappeared completely, the Shadow ships wriggled slightly, their outlines fading, and disappeared.

"That's our cue," Wedge said, and the four X-Wings pulled away from the station and made for the jumpgate at top speed, the Falcon just behind them.

The comm crackled one more time, and the voice of Captain Sheridan came across the line. "Good luck," he said. "It's been...interesting."

"That it has," answered Leia from the Falcon, laughing a bit. "Thank you for you hospitality, Captain."

"Any time," he replied, and he too sounded like he was laughing. "Any time."

Then they were entering the jumpgate, and Wedge tensed up, crossing his fingers and hoping that he had guessed right, that the gate would indeed take them home, and not to some Shadow stronghold. Then the blotchy red and black blurred, stretching into the old, familiar lines of hyperspace. Wedge allowed himself to relax at last; they were finally going home.

**

The observation room was silent save for the few mechanical noises of Kosh's encounter suit. Lyta had always wondered if those noises were really necessary, or if they were only there to put people at ease, to convince them that Vorlon technology was not, in fact, magic. At times like this, she rather suspected the latter.

Standing a respectful few paces behind her employer, she silently watched the Millennium Falcon tear out of the docking bay and head for the jumpgate, only moments behind the enemy ship that had already vanished. It made the short journey in quick time, vanishing with barely a moment's pause into the hyperspace corridor that would - hopefully - take them home.

When the ship had vanished and the jumpgate collapsed, Kosh spoke without turning. "They have begun to learn."

Accustomed as she had become to the Vorlon ambassador's obscure tidbits of wisdom, Lyta couldn't stop herself from asking, "Learn what?"

"To fight legends," was all he said, turning back to the view of space. Lyta did the same, pondering Kosh's words. What did they mean? Could the Vorlons possibly have orchestrated all of this? It certainly looked like the Shadows had had a hand in it. The world, Lyta thought wryly, may never know.

To fight legends.

It could, on the whole, have been worse.