This story is based on the Babylon 5 universe, created by J. Michael Straczynski.

Chapter 29—Gods and Demons

The Shadows had returned to their homeworld, it seemed. Now it was the Alliance's turn to strike. Havah returned to the station to begin preparations, and await Delenn's arrival, if she was fated to return. Since everyone was no longer sitting on the razor's edge of siege, there was time now, to think about Birin. There had been the sense, while caught up in the furor of disaster planning, that she would walk in the door at any moment, apologizing for being late. But she never came, and she wasn't going to. Havah called Trel.

"Hey, I'm going to set up a service for the Anla Shok to attend, and anyone else who knew Birin. I know many of her family and Minbari friends have already done something. But…humans sometimes take a while. She died under my command, and I've been so angry…Anyway, I'll start tonight at my quarters, at planetary sunset. That's the beginning of the Jewish day, and I'm going to sit shiva. I know she wasn't Jewish, but that is how I know how to mourn, and I know she was fascinated by other cultures..."

He inclined his head gracefully. "I will be there, Havah. Thank you. We never questioned the time you took. We know that Humans are different. You notified her family in the proper time, and offered your assistance. That is what's important."

Havah nodded sadly, and began setting up her quarters for people, and ordering food. She contacted the Anla Shok aboard the station, and set up her comm link for conferencing, for the Anla Shok not aboard the station who wanted to be there.

People trickled or linked in, some bearing platters or bowls of various kinds of food, Human and Minbari. As the sun was hidden by Epsilon Three, Havah covered the mirrors, veiled her hair, and stood facing due east to recite the Mourner's Kaddesh. Trel pointed out the English and Minbari translations in the prayer pamphlets Havah provided. Everyone rose.

"Yitkadal v'yitkadash shmay raba. B'olma divrah kirutay, yamlich malchutay…"

"Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen…

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen."

She finished reciting and closed the book, turned to everyone, and explained. "I know that must sound strange, a prayer for mourning that has no reference to death. In a lot of ways though, it is very…Minbari in thought. The Jews believe in one being that governs the laws of the universe, and IS the universe. Well, when someone is born, we believe that their soul is a part of that universe, and it is manifest in that body for us to watch over for a while. When they die, we believe that they are just returning to the source, just like the Minbari belief in a world soul….So the prayer…isn't about dying…it's about going home. And while peace is not in our immediate future, we can still hope that it will be, someday soon." Tears dripped down her face, and Trel took her hand. Everyone remained silent, thinking, for a time. Havah wiped her face and motioned to the overcrowded tables of food and the platters covering every possible surface of the small room. "Well everybody, that food isn't going to jump onto your plates, eat! Please."

Trel had brought a tin of Birin's chol sha, her favorite confection. It was empty within ten minutes.

Delenn returned, with Commander Ivanova and the telepath. Her face told Havah what she needed to know. Sheridan was gone, and they were on their own. Still though, Delenn refused to give up, either her hope that Sheridan would miraculously resurrect from the abyss, or the possibility for victory against the Shadows that had taken him. She charged into planning and rallying the Non-aligned Worlds, like Isis raging against the powers of Set, conjuring every magic and religious caste prayer she knew to rescue her lost love from the realm of the dead. Havah could almost envision Delenn's half-crest the crown of a Nile goddess, as her eyes flashed in confrontation.

"They have pulled their ships from the station, after all John has done for them!" She exclaimed disdainfully. "They are afraid, and rather than take the advantage that he has won them, they would rather hide in shame!"

Havah shifted uncomfortably. "Well…he held them together, and now they think he's dead…I'm not defending them, but this isn't a surprise. The plans that I've given you were constructed with that in mind. They can be adjusted if some of the other ships return. Hope for the best and plan for the worst, you know…"

"Do you believe he is dead?"

A silence settled upon the room as oppressive as the smothering heat of Egypt under her blazing regard.

"I don't know how to answer that, Entilzah…is it possible for him to be alive? I guess. Strange things happen here, and that strangeness seems to follow people who are tied to this place wherever they go. Is it likely?…I don't think so. Vir Cotto said that there was a massive nuclear explosion, and that Sheridan fell into a pit that was miles long. And you didn't find him when you went there. The circumstantial evidence would seem to indicate against his survival."

She nodded wearily. "Whether he is alive or dead, we must strike them now, on their own territory. There will never be another chance. I will continue to attempt persuading the other ambassadors to recall their ships to the station, but we must be prepared to go to Z'Hadum soon, with or without them."

"I agree."

"Has Ivanova seen these plans?"

"I believe so. She consulted Sheridan some time ago. They are similar to hers."

"When can we be ready?"

"Another few days."

"We will wait that long for the other worlds to change their minds."

"Understood, Entilzah Delenn." Havah bowed and swiftly retreated to the hallway.

A single finned ship, quite unlike the arachnid dreadnoughts, emerged unmolested from blasted Z'Hadum and headed into hyperspace.

Negotiations were not going well. In fact, they had completely deteriorated. Not only were the ambassadors from the Non-aligned worlds failing to bring their ships back, but they were actively obstructing plans for anyone else to go to Z'Hadum, accusing the Minbari and human fleets of putting all other worlds at risk by continuing the hostilities. There were angry mutters all over the station, the kind that would stop as soon as Havah or anyone wearing a Ranger pin walked by. Finally, one of the prime instigators of the unrest called a meeting. Havah rushed into the Zocalo, amidst a crush of aliens and Humans, as the alien spoke from a balcony, inciting the crowds. Delenn could be made out in the center, guarded by Lennier. He barely kept her from being jostled as she retorted. As she responded, the mood only grew uglier. This crowd was at a boiling point. Security was strained without Mr. Garibaldi, and violence seeped into the tones of the protesters. No ship was to be allowed to conduct an assault on the Shadows, or the leader of those attacks would be removed. Aliens surrounded Delenn, and it was clear that Lennier was outnumbered and outmatched.

The crowd closed in around Delenn and Lennier, and Havah tried to slip through to them and was shoved back. Someone grabbed her. And then something happened that made Havah stop in mid-punch, as her eyes, everyone's eyes rested on the figure that walked out onto the balcony, staring down the startled ambassador like a burning apparition. It was Sheridan. Delenn had been right, a fact which she seemed hardly ready to believe herself as she made her way to meet him. Havah scoured his form, up and down, from where she stood in the throng. His uniform was battered, but aside from a few scrapes, he looked whole, and utterly furious. He turned to the crowd, determined. And that's when Havah saw it. There was something different about him. Sure his personality seemed intact. But he had changed. No one returns from the depths unscathed, an old Earth journalist had once said. The difference in his eyes could not be quantified, or even qualified. There were scars where a piece of life had been ripped away, and something foreign put in its place. A part of him was no longer Human. As a hybrid, Havah could feel this as distinctly as she could see or hear or smell. So what was he? There was nothing of the Shadows there, but of something else, very very old, immeasurably old. Her eyes drifted to the doorway to the side of the balcony. A tall alien stood there, of a species she had never seen. It stood in shade, peering out placidly with luminous eyes. A circlet ringed its elongated forehead, giving it a vaguely humanoid look. But the resemblance to humanity ended there. As Sheridan spoke, Havah was fascinated less by his riveting enjoin to attack Z'Hadum, than by the strange alien, who seemed to support Sheridan and his speech with an intangible silent regard. It remained in shadow.

She goggled at Sheridan as she stood at the entrance to Delenn's quarters, waiting to talk to Delenn, wondering if this was a bad time to see her. Delenn would want more time for re-union with her partner than she was likely to get.

"Is everything alright Miss Lassee?" Sheridan asked, hard-faced.

"Y-Yes, sir. Everything's fine. I'm glad to see you alive."

"Thank you. So am I." He smiled amiably then, the fierce features softening. He turned to Delenn. "I'll see you later."

She nodded gracefully and smiled.

As he left down the hall, the tall alien joined him, walking past Havah. She stared at it, and it regarded her silently, with slightly luminescent eyes as it passed. Suddenly she knew what alien-ness she had felt from Sheridan. It was this one. A circle of calm surrounded it, a tranquility deeper than any she had ever felt. Whatever it was, this appearance was just that, an appearance for some entity that no body could hold. This ancient alien had none of the terror or awe of the Vorlons, only a settling sense of 'being'. It was, is, and would be. The appearance was for them, for others. Havah swallowed as Delenn joined her.

"Yes, that is Lorien. He arrived with John."

"What is it?" Havah turned to look at her.

"He is the First One." She said cryptically.

"The First One what?"

"THE First One. As you know, the Shadows and the Vorlons are two of the oldest races in the galaxy. They and a number of others were among the first sentient life forms in the galaxy. Marcus and Ivanova tried some time ago to contact the others, to assist us against the Shadows."

"I remember. They got somewhat of a lukewarm reception. It seems that both the Shadows' AND the Vorlons' relationships with their peers were less than positive."

"Yes, and when the others went beyond the Rim, these two remained behind to guide the other emerging races, as teachers. That was what we suspected, and now John's contact with the Shadows has confirmed this. The Shadows view themselves as 'Lords of Chaos', which they see as a necessary force in the universe. Our contact with the Vorlons has led us to believe that they view themselves as 'Lords of Order' and masters of discipline. I see now why they chose primarily the Minbari as contacts. We have been heavily shaped by their view, even when they were absent. John said that the Shadows favor evolutionary forces to weed out undesirable genetics or traits, as your Darwin would have said, natural selection. And the Vorlons favor…direct alteration and interference, as I would suspect with the enhancement of Lyta Alexander, and…Sebastian. I am not certain, but I believe that their guidance has been far more extensive than we have any evidence of."

"That doesn't completely track though. First of all, Darwin's theory of natural selection did not advocate any absolutes. He didn't believe that there were 'undesirable' traits at all. In fact, his theory espoused the idea that every trait, EVERY trait is relative to the current environment. And no environment is a constant. It changes, always. So what appears to be a detrimental trait for a species in one environment may become a positive trait when the environment shifts, and sooner or later, it always will. I won't bore you with the details. Second, if this is about ideology and policy, then neither of them have maintained their own. I read texts that Neroon provided…about the Skin Stealers, that indicated that the Shadows may have rescued a defeated race, from your own home-world. That's interference with evolution. And what about Morden, and John's wife? I think it's safe to say that they've been 'altered'. That's interference too. And the Vorlons…if they're so into obedience, why have they been sitting back and letting us fry? We've done everything they've demanded!"

"Because this is about perception. The Vorlons always said that reality is a three-edged sword. Well, it is for them as well."

"So this really is a Zoroastrian conflict, but it's self-created. It's about these two races' perceptions of the right way to run the galaxy, regardless of how inconsistent they become in the pursuit of those absolute points of view."

"I believe so, yes."

"And we're the chess pieces, we're their thesis, the data points backing up their respective arguments."

"Yes."

"Fabulous. So this isn't going to be about defeating the Shadows anymore. We have to fight both of them, and we can't destroy either of them because what we're really doing is rebelling against our teachers' plans for us. I thought I was done with adolescence."

Delenn smiled good-naturedly. "We must find a solution. Some way of existing between both of them."

We are Grey. We stand between the darkness and the light. Havah thought. Maybe we already have the answer. "What about…" She nodded towards the door, where Lorien had passed. "Is it here to help us?"

"John trusts him. I believe that he is the oldest of them."

"That doesn't mean they'll listen to…him."

"No. It does not."

The plans had changed. The battlefield had grown far more complicated. Now the Vorlons had become a problem. Rather than assist the alliance of aliens, they had made a unilateral decision to destroy any forces, people, or worlds influenced by the Shadows, including civilians. It had become, in a more twisted sense than history had ever seen, a battle on two fronts. And no one could challenge them…directly. Whatever had happened to cause hostilities between the Shadows and the Vorlons had spiraled, and their tiny feeble alliance was caught in the middle. No one in this age had ever seen battle on this scale, or could even conceive of it. Sheridan, the changed Sheridan, had a plan, but they had to get rid of the Vorlon ambassador first. The Vorlons had targeted Coriana Six, a planet that had been used in the past as a Shadow outpost. They had not just targeted the outpost. They had targeted the entire planet for destruction. It was Markab all over again, except this time, they knew the potential culprits, their would-be allies!

As Havah was preparing the fleets, Lyta Alexander, Delenn, the security team, and Sheridan lured the new 'Kosh' from his quarters. Sensing a trap, a coruscating whirlwind of energy tunneled up towards the hull of the station as the enraged Vorlon shed its trappings of civility. Lightning prickled around it as it sought to destroy the traitors. It targeted Delenn, who had been helping drag an unconscious security member out of the Vorlon's reach. A new force burst from Sheridan's body, the last remaining energy of the late ambassador, and whirled around the towering tornado, engaged in battle. They passed through the hull. Two miles away farther down the station, Havah felt a thousand terrible minds blazing out into space, and lost among them, like a single voice carrying through a blizzard, the one lonely entity she had once seen before, Kosh. The energy dissipated in the vacuum of space. The window into the Vorlon mind was now shut again. She resumed her work.

Anlashok Ericksen was gone. He'd planted the message with the Shadows, sacrificing himself and his entire crew. Death was the best of the possibilities remaining to them. Havah was imminently glad she had not had to give that order. After only a year or so of command, she was tired of giving orders that ended in termination. But the Shadows had taken the bait, and the Vorlons were already on their way to the Coriana system, where the tiny alliance waited. Now the two colossi would have to face one another openly, instead of working through other races. The younger races were done being avatars for gods and demons.

The fleet waited…and waited. Finally, the adversaries appeared, first the Vorlons, then the Shadows, screaming in from hyperspace. They spotted one another and engaged, hundreds of ships of all sizes. The swath of destruction blazed past, and Sheridan gave the order. The mines went off, damaging both Shadow and Vorlon fleets. All eyes, ALL eyes turned to the enormous fleet Sheridan had rallied, dwarfed by the two oncoming forces. Shadow ships wheeled in from three different directions, blasting through a Vreen battle group. A Minbari cruiser's engines were sheared protecting them.

"Na 'Shan, break and attack!" Havah yelled. To her own navigators, "Starboard, 45 mark 30, come up under them! Valeria, right rear, watch your tail!" She broadcast, as one of the White Stars in the alpha wing bucked left away from an actinic beam from a cruiser that phased into normal space right behind them. They were surrounded. The Shadow fighters were everywhere.

A giant Shadow appeared above them. "Evasive maneuvers!" The ship pitched left, but Havah was thrown from her chair and heard the Alecto's hull shriek as a beam struck the right rear guns. "Roll, 360 degrees, pitch 90, get out of their range and behind them! Damage-" Another blast hit the forward shield from another ship and the controls exploded. A piece of the ship came crashing down, burying one of the little navigators, and a couple crew-members ran to put out the fires dotting the panels. "Get out from between them! Swing this ship around, 180 degrees, fire!"

Their beams blasted against the side of the mammoth ship, and they dodged down as rear fire came from the flanking Shadow ship. The shot passed above them and struck the Shadow they were facing. It shrieked in the mind of the shipboard telepath, and both Shadows turned to face the Alecto which had swung in a firing arc under and up behind one of the ships. It crumpled, leaving the one that had fired from behind them. Havah scrambled to pull rubble off of her crushed crew-mate. "Damage report!"

"Shields at thirty percent, damage to the right aft guns! They come again!"

But it wasn't just one ship. One was coming from the right 30 degrees off the port bow, one came directly under, another two were screaming in from the right rear, exactly where they couldn't fire. And the other White Stars were similarly engaged. "Get out from the center-"

A blast from guns she had never seen before pummeled one of the rear Shadow vessels until it withered, and then engaged another, as a gargantuan ship shaped like a giant stone cone with rotating parts on the bottom passed over the White Star. It was one of the First Ones. Havah had no idea which one, but no one cared. The cavalry was here, the ace they had kept up their sleeves. If the Shadows and Vorlons wanted to fight, they would also have to confront their peers.

"Medic!"

Kinann, the navigator was not likely to survive, but there was just enough time to get her out of there before things got desperate again.

"Press them! These guys just saved our asses! Stay on those Shadow ships! Fire!" They followed a black ship, as the other two mammoths were engaged by ancient vessels from beyond the Rim.

And then everything stopped. Motion suspended like giant microbes trapped under a lens, as an image filled everyones' mind. Even the Old Ones, blazing to the rescue, were arrested by the sight of Sheridan and Delenn.

They stood in some dark place out of space and time, each circled by an adversary, demanding time to make their case. Delenn was trapped by a Shadow, or by a Shadow mind. It shifted constantly, presenting itself as people she knew, Marcus, Lennier, herself. Sheridan was trapped by a Vorlon representative, as cryptic and unapproachable as they had always been, an imperious queen encased in ice, spoken at by a pulsing vodor at the neck of the frozen royal. Each spoke as Delenn had known they would. The Shadow believed in the use of conquest and strife to strengthen the survivors, and pare away the weak, just as the adversarial angel had done countless times, challenging the tribes of Israel in the desert. They were the parents that took their kids out in a rowboat in the middle of a hurricane and tossed them over the side, hoping secretly that some of them would make it to shore.

The Vorlon required unquestioning obedience and order, claiming that their charges 'did not understand' when Sheridan challenged their point of view. They were the parents that watched their kids do their homework every night and then beat the tar out of them and kicked them out of the house if they found a birth control device, because they weren't 'their children' anymore. Each was a mirror of the other, Yahweh and Ha-Shatan, or so they saw themselves.

But something had gone wrong, as both Delenn and Sheridan pointed out to the circling demi-gods. In their thousands of years of guidance, they had lost sight of the reason they were fighting, the welfare of their own wards. And as Lorien pulled Sheridan and Delenn out of illo tempore, the temporary holding cells in which they had been placed, the younger races were given a choice. This was about who's parenting style was right and who's was wrong, and someone was going to lose, no matter what they chose. A hundred thousand marriages and families had ended like this throughout Human history and the history of nearly every other race watching, and no one, not even Lorien could help them in this.

Holo-images of the Shadow and the Vorlon representatives appeared floating in the air above the bridge, as everyone waited for Sheridan or Delenn to choose, for someone to make a choice. And as Havah watched, her eyes watered with a surge of rage, as intense as any child caught in such a marriage, doomed to lose one or the other parent's regard, but there was a surge of something else. They weren't monsters or gods anymore, these floating images. They were people, just like her, just like all the younger races they had tried to guide, caught in the same traps, no matter how ancient they were. They were parents in truth, who had sacrificed everything for their kids, thousands of years of exploration, the company of their peers, their own identities, to watch over someone else. And it had cost them dearly. It had cost them so much that all that was left to them, finally, was to live vicariously through their children, through their childrens' lives, and for the argument that had consumed their own. As Havah watched them, she felt sad, terribly terribly sad. Their dilemma was no excuse. They had committed incredible atrocities, in the name of their argument, that could not be forgotten. They had been unimaginably abusive parents, so much so that they had caused many of their own problems, driving away their peers. But their original desire to guide…had been real. That couldn't be ignored either.

Part of growing up means understanding your parents' mistakes, Havah thought of Neroon, of the moment when he had revealed to her the very same plan that he had used to wipe out thousands of Humans, this time in order to keep her and her fleet alive. The remaining navigator glanced back at her captain, fury written clearly across her face, expecting to see the same anger in Havah, and it was there, but it was mixed with an odd look of pity.

Sheridan refused to be forced into a choice. There was no good choice and so he chose neither of them. The younger races were old enough to make their own decisions now, and no longer needed guidance. "We know who we are and what we want!" He said.

And you can't hurt us anymore. Havah thought, like a kid standing up after a father's thrashing.

But they could, and they did. A Shadow missile fired at Sheridan's ship, refusing to accept the dismissal…and a Drazi ship intercepted it. Another one fired, and another ship blocked it again. The alliance was done with being told what to do, by anyone. And Lorien stepped in and backed up Sheridan's choice. He could not have made it for the younger races, but he could support their decision when it was made. It was time for the Old Ones to leave, he told the apparitions. It was time for the First Ones, all of them, to go beyond the Rim and find the larger universe that they now had the capacity to explore, and leave this galaxy to the evolving races. The younger races had to be on their own.

Havah's assessment of the loneliness and the loss of the guardian races appeared true as the Shadow asked, "Will you come with us?" Deprived of the only existence they had known for thousands of years, they were going to be small fish in a very big pond again, and they were scared and alone. Lorien assured them that they would not be alone, that he was leaving too, with them. And then, in a scintillating flash, they were gone, for good. The universe was suddenly empty of the Ancient Ones. A thousand years preparing and it was over.

Havah stared at the space where the myriad fleets had been, and a small disbelieving smile broke across her face. "We're…alive. It's over, and we're still here!" Her own voice sounded incredulous.

Taan, the navigator turned, saucer-eyed, and grinned, letting out her breath and laughing softly. "Yes, Na!"

Havah sat bobbing her head for a minute, tapping her hands against the arm of the chair. "Yeah…yeah…wow…" She said softly. "So…what now?" She gazed at Taan, returning the grin. "…I mean, aside from returning to base…"

"Now…I think I would like to try some hal 'chi…a lot of it." The religious caste woman exclaimed.

Havah laughed. "I think that can be arranged! Let's go home." Taan turned back around, and the Alecto rejoined the alliance fleet.

Havah took most of her savings from her years of previous work, although they weren't much, and threw the biggest shindig she could afford, for her crew and wings. Sheridan approved the use of the observation deck, and Delenn procured several crates of hal 'chi, and Havah had food catered from the Fresh Air restaurant because it had selections for every taste, and got a full bar of alcohol, with a bartender for the night. A few members of the Anla Shok had played instruments professionally before their recruitment, and still had them, and everyone brought music crystals of all styles. Within an hour, most of the attendees, Human and Minbari were on their way to being intoxicated on their various substances, with the exception of course, of Sheridan and Delenn, who alternated back and forth between the Anla Shok party, and the party going on in the Zocalo. "Too vanilla." Havah had said, which completely baffled Delenn.

"I do not understand the context of that word?" She looked at John, as he quickly stifled a smile.

"It's…oh hell, it's a long story. I'll explain later." He assured her.

"Ah." She nodded, no less intrigued.

Everyone popped back and forth between parties as well, for as long as they were capable of walking that far. At around a quarter after midnight, Havah sank down against the window, back to the stars, with her fifth plate of food and another uncounted pint of hal 'chi, across from Taan, who had emptied her glass, and was working on a huge bowl of Death By Chocolate, eyes half-lidded and smiling beatifically. Having never had a sip of 'chi in her life, she had already drunk Trel under the table an hour ago, and he lay sprawled, alternately muttering and giggling to himself in a big folding papasan, rented for the party. They both eyed him, amusingly, as he tried to rise, leaned forward a little too far, and tipped the entire thing over on top of him onto the floor. Havah and Taan burst into hysterical laughter as, head covered under the giant pillow, his arm groped around lethargically trying to tug the pillow aside, and then just flopped back onto the floor.

"Ok, I could just leave him there but that would be mean." She went over, righted the chair, and hauled him onto it. He smiled and fell asleep, arms draped over the sides. "'Night, sweetie." She said and returned to her food.

Taan slurred, "So, the Vorons…and the Shadows…They were shaping us. Deir battles were all about…us?"

"I guess so. Yeah."

"How come you're not…drunk?"

"Because I spent three months on the Yanazha, drinking like a fish, off-duty. I guess I was making up for lost time. I've gotten a tolerance. And I haven't hit the chocolate yet."

"Oh." She grinned. "How did they influence Earth?"

"Well, our myths, maybe. Lots of our cultures have some version of the Vorlons and some version of the Shadows, despite all being so diverse in other ways. In the Torah, there's a particular story about a man named Job. The Adversary doubted Job's loyalty to God, so he was given permission to make all kinds of bad things happen to Job, in order to test his faith, and maybe…to test his strength."

"What kinds of bad things?"

"Disease, like boils, his home was destroyed and he lost his family. Well, Job got really frustrated and angry, but he never denounced God, and he still put up with everything. Finally, Ha-Shatan gave up trying to sink Job. And God gave Job back everything he had lost, because he passed the test."

Taan cocked her head drunkenly. "He gave it back? How'd he do that with the family?"

"I think he just gave Job a new family."

"But, they're not the same people."

"I know. It's just a story."

"So…God was like the Vorons. And the Adversary was like the Shadows, except they worked together instead of fighting."

"Yeah. And I think the Shadows and Vorlons worked together once too, in the beginning. It's interesting. Maybe Earthers knew when the Shadows and Vorlons weren't working together anymore. But we started off more influenced by the Vorlons, so their side of the story was the only one known. About two and a half thousand years ago, something happened in that particular myth cycle. Something changed. There was a new religion, called Christianity, and in their myth, there was a huge fight between God and Ha-Shatan, who had originally been a servant, or at least an ally of God's. According to the story, Ha-Shatan was expelled from Heaven, and the Devil, as he became known, was furious with God and with Man and became bent on destroying Man, especially Man who had been touched too heavily by God. The Devil would tempt Man and snare Humans into betraying the 'ways' God had set out for Man. That was how he got back at God. It sounds like someone on Earth was already sensing the tension between our two 'mentors', but since the Vorlons had a good grip on us, the Vorlons could paint themselves in the righteous light. History is written by the victors."

Taan bobbed her head. "But…so with Job…they were both right. The Shadows and the Vorlons. Because they were both doing their duty to Job."

Havah munched and thought. She had never thought of it that way before. In that instance, it didn't matter who was right about Job's strength, all that mattered was that they were fulfilling their given tasks. How Minbari. "I guess. I guess it depends on whether or not you believe in the messages of the Torah, or the Bible, or anything else, for the 'lesson' to seem right or wrong, because it's different for everyone. That's the problem with relying so heavily on those stories. They oversimplify things that have never been that simple….Man, you know what…speaking of simple, this conversation is giving me a headache. I think it's time for another hal 'chi. What about you?" She held up the bottle.

Taan held out her glass.

"To Kinann." Havah toasted. The girl was in critical condition, and it could go either way. "If we keep drinking her portion then she has to come back, just to yell at us." They resumed getting hammered.

The respite was short-lived. Ships on the border of Minbari space were being attacked, by an overwhelming force, and by a configuration no one had seen. The Shadows were gone. Who was this new threat? Havah made ready to take a contingent of White Stars, but Delenn again pre-empted her.

"This area is protected by the Religious caste. We made a promise long ago to the races in that region, that we would be there if there was ever a need. This is for us to do."

Havah knew better, at this point, then to argue with her. It would get them nowhere.

I should've argued, I should've argued! Havah thought bitterly, after Delenn returned, minus one White Star, with several others limping along after. They had encountered a strange fleet attacking a Pakmara military transport, and destroyed the mother-ship.

"We were successful, but White Star Thirty-seven was destroyed. I am sorry." Delenn's face was troubled. "I have never seen ships like these before. I believe that they may return, but there are even more serious matters to attend to. This encounter brought to my attention how seriously our civil structure has deteriorated back home."

Havah waited silently for elaboration.

"One of my caste members believed it necessary to seek outside aid against the warrior caste."

"He went to outsiders? That hardly seems like a Minbari."

"Precisely. It was he who called this strange fleet there, to meet with me. That is how desperate he was. His family had been driven out by the warrior caste in his village, and left to die of exposure to the elements. That hardly seems Minbari either!"

"So, you met with them, these outsiders?"

Her eyes darkened, and worry-lines deepened. "Yes…They called themselves…the Drakh. They were…servants of the Shadows, and now that the Shadows are gone…"

"They want to destroy anyone in connection with the other side. That was where the skirmish came in?…Drakh…Where have I heard that name before?"

"Yes…it sounds familiar to me, as well. The Centauri have legends about them, nightmarish stories."

"So, it seems they've been around for a while."

"Yes. It would seem so…" She paused and rubbed her hands. "We have been planning and thinking only as far as surviving the Shadows. I do not think that we anticipated that many of us would survive, and now that we are once again alone, we must return to the problems that never went away when we were neglecting them, and to new problems that our victory has brought. I must return to Minbar."

"But you just got back! Sheridan's going to be pissed! He's even crankier when you're away."

She smiled gently. "He is one of the other reasons I must go. I must attend to matters at home, rebuild the Grey Council before our society collapses under the strain of warring factions. And I must leave him to help rebuild your society. He cannot concentrate while I am here. Though he will never admit it, he worries too much about how I think of him. He cannot show the face that he needs to show, while I am here to see it."

Havah nodded, and went to look up a reference that had suddenly come to mind.

She slid the crystal into the port thoughtfully, the story of Valeria. The Minbari encountered a race they called the Kal' tot, the Changelings. But their name for themselves had been different, a glottal thick pronunciation. Where was the reference? It had been mentioned only once, in brief, before the race's own language for itself was disdainfully subdued by the Minbari version. The door chimed and she lost her place. It was an Anla Shok with a report from the Brakiri sector, and a lot of other data that she listened to absentmindedly.

*Author's Note/References: The first reference to an old Earth journalist was based on an essay called 'Report from El Dorado'. It was about media and the way people shape and filter life experiences to either relate that experience as purely as possible, or dull it with a wash of nostalgia. Sheridan was a powerful reminder of the fact that living through hell changes everyone. "A memory has been stolen. It takes a beauty in you to see the beauty of Helen Keller's face, while to cast the face of a Mare Winningham in the role is to suggest, powerfully, that one can return from the depths unscathed. No small delusion is being sold here."—Michael Ventura. The second reference was to a concept by a theorist named Mircae Eliade, called illo tempore. It means 'out of time'. It is the theoretical place in people's psyches in which myth is created, because it has no reference to physical space or time. It existed before the world, and is recreated in every ritual that was based on that myth. It is a place of memes, archetypes like the Shadows and Vorlons.

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