Gunfire filled the hall outside of the control room. Lindstrom was too busy patching up the bleeding wound on Bower's lower belly to do anything. The security team members still capable of fighting were still at their defensive positions at the windows, firing to keep the enemy outside suppressed and unable to join those already inside.

Lucy stood near the entrance. "They're readying for another push," she said. "Mostly Krogan."

"Tral ran out of Vorcha," Drack observed. "He may be leading them himself."

"If you mean the guy in charge, I think so." Lucy grimaced. "The thoughts of what he wants to do to you are pretty graphic." Now she winced. "You have four?"

"Yup," Wrex answered, as if he were reading her mind. "Hey, how's that pulse coming?"

"We're almost ready," Cat replied. "There's miles of wiring we have to account for when planning this, and the pulse has to be precise."

"Right. Well, no rush, just a half dozen or so of Tral's best are about to rush this room, you've got all the time you need."

Cat winced and went back to work.

"You don't seem that worried," Lucy observed.

"When you get to our age, kid, this is nothing new," Drack answered. "I've lived through worse."

"It's just part of the business, really," Wrex added, hefting his shotgun. In the distance there was a roar of anger. "And there he is."

"Urdnot!" The deep Krogan voice roared down the hall.

"Don't mind him, the Weyrloc are always like that."

"Always so dramatic," Drack muttered in agreement.

The next shout was a roar, and it came from more than one voice. "Here they come," Drack said, readying his shotgun.

Six Krogan came barrelling down the corridor. Lindstrom opened fire first, spraying them with pulse fire. Their kinetic barriers absorbed his shots. Before his fire could break through the barriers, return fire from two of them forced him back into cover.

When they got close, Wrex and Drack leaned around the entranceway enough to fire their weapons into the Krogan. Wrex's shot was a head-shot, and even a Krogan couldn't survive one at that range from a Claymore. Drack's shotgun blew the leg out from under another of the Krogan.

But the four behind them - five counting Tral, who was now running to join - couldn't be stopped quickly enough. They barrelled into the room. Wrex fired another shot that tore into the guts of one, leaving his Claymore in a state of overheating. Drack has two shots before his shotgun reached the same threshold. One nearly tore the arm off the same Krogan Wrex had just shot. The other was a glancing hit to a second Krogan. Drack fell back and switched to the Phalanx pistol he was carrying. The heavy pistol barked and sent a sliver of metal into the jaw of the Krogan he'd barely hit. Wrex threw a biotic pulse into his opponent, sending the gutshot Krogan into his ally and down.

But in the process, the other two Krogan got into the room. Lindstrom was firing on them, but even his hits couldn't put the Krogan down in time before they got to his position. That left Lucy to intercept one. She sliced the arm off the Krogan and immediately had to duck and roll away to avoid getting shot point-blank by the other Krogan. The now armless Krogan charged at her, roaring in rage and pain. Lucy caught him with her life force power and sent him flying back. He slammed into the far wall and collapsed, allowing Lindstrom to put him down with another burst of pulse fire.

The fifth Krogan, still intact, fired his shotgun. Lindstrom couldn't get back into cover in time. He went down with a number of wounds on his side and arm. The same Krogan turned his gun over to Drack, who was putting a shotgun blast into the head of the gutshot Krogan to put him down. "Look out!" Lindstrom cried, even as he bled over the floor.

Drack didn't look. He dropped and rolled, a maneuver that made every joint, prosthetic or natural, ache. When he finished the roll he hefted his shotgun and fired almost blindly. Instinct and experience proved themselves; his opponent, still tracking with his weapon, took the hit and stumbled backward. His shotgun blast went over Drack's head.

There was a buzz in the air. The Krogan screamed in wordless rage at the loss of his arms, courtesy of Lucy's lightsaber.

The sounds of combat didn't end, however. They turned and found Wrex wrestling with Weyrloc Tral over Tral's shotgun. "I'll serve your quad to my varren!" the Blood Pack leader screamed.

Drack's gun came up. Lucy's lightsaber did too. But Reubens stopped them. "They're getting in!" she shouted from her window. "We can't stop them all."

Drack and Lucy exchanged a tired look. Even now more Krogan from the Blood Pack were coming down the hall. These had rifles, and formed a firing line. Drack pulled his own and Lucy brought her lightsaber into a defensive position. "Lindstrom, we'll hold them. You…" She stopped. She could sense Lindstrom had slipped into unconsciousness from his wounds. "It's you and me big guy."

"You hold 'em, I'll shoot 'em," the old Krogan answered.

"Sounds like a plan." Shots rang out and Lucy's lightsaber became a blur. It took everything she had to move fast enough to deflect the incoming projectiles with her weapon. Drack's weapon thundered behind and beside her. The angle wasn't good for him to hit anything - not around her weapon - but the fire did keep the Krogan from advancing closer.

Behind them, Wrex kept his hands on Tral's shotgun to keep him from using it. He didn't respond to Tral's threats, instead snarling and concentrating on staying alive.

Nearby, Cat looked over the data a final time. She didn't seem to be thinking about the violence all around them. "Okay, we have fifty one point three kilometers of wiring in the system. That means the pulse needs to be a strength of…"

"We can make it work at 56 volts alternating at 20 hertz, driving thirty-amp," Tra'dur finished, concurring with Cat's calculations, "And the wire will take that."

"Right. Setting the system now." Cat went to work on her omnitool.

"Look out!" Tra'dur grabbed Cat and pulled her forward. A moment later Wrex and Tral landed where she'd been sitting, still struggling over Tral's shotgun. The impact knocked Cat fully into Tra'dur and sent both to the floor.

"Cat, finish it! Now!" Lucy shouted.

It was easier said than done, given Cat was now tangled up with Tra'dur in the floor. She got her arm free and ran her fingers over the omnitool. "Fifty-six volts, twenty hertz… setting ready, charge… now."

WIth a final press of her key, Cat sent the pulse into the wiring.

For a tense second she and Tra'dur, still on the floor, waited. Cat listened for any indications of the bombs going off, worried that maybe, in the end, the calculations were off.

But no such explosions came. Instead there was just the rushing sound of flare-off as the chemicals burned instead of exploding.

Tra'dur got free enough to check the barrage status displays. "The gates are intact!" Relief was visible on her face. "It's finished!"

"We did it!" Cat shouted in agreement. She got back to her feet. "We… look out!"

This time it was Cat who tackled Tra'dur, knocking her out of the way. Wrex slammed into the display screen, snarling, Tral's shotgun no longer in his hands. Tral raised the same toward him. "Was this what it was all for, Urdnot?!" the Blood Pack leader bellowed. "You broke with our employers, you killed my men, for what? For them?!"

"No, you idiot," Wrex growled. "For us. Killing those Dilgar children, it's no different than what the Turians did to us."

To that Tral laughed. "None of that matters. Who cares about what the aliens do to each other. So long as they pay us for it and give us a good fight, it's all the same to me. Alliance, Brakiri, Turian, as long as the credits come in, I don't give a damn."

"I do," Wrex retorted.

Tral snarled and lifted his weapon. But as he did, a gun barked from a third direction, a heavy slugthrower. Again, and again, and again. The Krogan turned… And then as a fourth round drilled home, collapsed.

Tra'dur looked over the smoking barrel of the gun to Wrex. Wrex nodded to her and took in a breath. "Thanks, kid," he said.

"He had earned it," she answered, her eyes fixed on a blank wall, saying nothing more.

All involved could hear that the sounds of battle had slowed. More pulse fire sounded in the distance, joined by mass effect firearms, but nothing concerning them. "The cavalry's here," Reubens said from her perch. A tired grin crossed her face. "It's Major Anders and some of the Marines."

"About damned time," muttered Lucy. She went over to where Lindstrom was unconscious and bleeding out. "Cat, I need a first aid kit," she said. "You'll have to apply the anti-septic foam. I'll keep him from bleeding out…"

Not to be outdone, the others went to work as well, disarming the unconscious and dead enemies around them and treating the wounded. There would be time to rest later; as things were, the battle was over.

For now, anyway.

Zhengli watched the last of the Drazi force withdraw to positions a few light seconds from the planet with a silent kind of numbness. When it was clear they were far out of range, she heaved a breath and rose. Looking around the carnage of the bridge listlessly, and ignoring the living crew, she moved among the dead instead, the dead from both sides.

Marking their position and status, and grimacing at having to interrupt, Elia drew herself up along the bank of technicians' panels in CIC. She was the only other officer on the bridge. "Orders for Huáscar, ma'am?"

Zhengli had moved to kneel beside the shrouded forms beside the command chair, and one in particular. She glanced up at Elia's words as if shaken from a reverie. "Hold station, Ensign. I think the fate of the ship is in the hands of the diplomats, now."

"Aye Aye, Captain," she answered, and quietly stepped back to the comms banks to attend to pressing questions-and give Zhengli a moment of relative quiet. She could feel the rawness in the woman who had liberated her, no scan required.

She caught a glint, and leaned forward - taking a hand that was growing cold, and running her thumb over the black onyx stone there. Foster. A graduate of West Point like me, and he took such a different course. She glanced at her own, at the barely visible scar, where a jeweler had changed 2248 into 2247, her passing out having come a year early, to throw the cadets into the war, into the last desperate hope of Line. Foster's had the date of 2251, and she let out a soft, pained sigh. "That was the difference, wasn't it? You joined right after the Line, when there was all the pain and blood, when we were all so desperate and so rightly terrified of the stars, when I remembered those heady days before, when it seemed we could do anything… and all those scars still weigh us down." Her voice was barely audible, as she moved to stand once more, resting a hand on the captain's chair. "You did good, Huáscar, you did good. May your next captain do right by you."

Ship's Log: ASV Aurora; 6 April 2643. Captain Julia Andreys recording. With the retreat of the Avenger and Captain Varma regaining her ship, the fighting has stopped over Tira. The former League ships have withdrawn to just outside of combat range and seem to be waiting for reinforcements. We are much in the same position ourselves, given the state of our ships.

On Tira itself, the mercenary offensives against the cloning facilities have halted. Our control of the colony's barrage dam and elimination of their bombs means we now have the superior position on Tira. The Brakiri leader, Colonel Greden, has agreed to a ceasefire, and we have granted it for the time being.

Now all we can do is watch, wait, and deal with our wounded.

Marines wounded in the fighting below and crew by the fighting in orbit filled the wards of the medbay. Julia made the rounds of the wards with Leo accompanying her, silent. Her crew responded to her presence with nods and greetings. They knew the stakes, and they did not resent the risk she had put them through.

She would never know what the dead thought. They remained silent under their shrouds in the mortuary section of medbay, where Leo only gave her the barest glance.

"Twenty-six Marines dead, between our contingent and the Marines from the Shenzhou," Leo observed. "Another twenty security personnel dead planetside, along with eighteen outright fatalities up here."

"I was worried we'd get more," Julia admitted.

"We almost did," Leo said. "Doctor Walker did an outstanding job patching up the borderline cases."

"I'll enter her for a commendation," Julia said. She frowned. "Commander Richmond?"

Leo led her to the critical care ward. Their security chief was on a biobed being tended by a nurse. She was in a gown and sleeping comfortably. Bandages showed on her visible arms.

"We got the bleeding under control before she was a lost cause," Leo said. His expression was severe. "From what the others said, Commander Richmond shot Hawk, and then his girlfriend went ballistic and started stabbing her in a fury until one of the boarders stopped her."

"She struck me as having a shorter fuse," Julia said. "I'm just glad she didn't kill Commander Richmond."

"You and me both." Leo gestured for her to follow. "Something interesting came up in the security investigation of the brig. Lieutenant Yrapk ordered it sent to me and Lab 3 for analysis."

"Oh?"

Leo led her into his office. Once there he went to his desk and tapped controls. On the wall monitor of the office an image popped up, a DNA helix. "What am I looking at?" Julia asked.

"A genetic sample recovered from the fight. Including on Commander Richmond herself, a sweat droplet."

"From one of the boarders?"

"Right." Leo motioned at it. "It's from an alien species we've never encountered before. A very strong species given what the testimony said."

"That means the Avenger has been making friends in universes we haven't been to yet," Julia noted.

"It seems like it, yes," Leo confirmed.

"So there's no telling what resources they might have." Julia sighed and grinned weakly at Leo. "Thank you for sharing this, Doctor… Leo." The correction was said with warmth. "I'm just glad we didn't take more losses."

"As am I, Julia," Leo answered. "As am I."

A tense night passed. Both sides continued to tend to their wounds. Julia awoke the next morning wondering what would happen next. Would the Drazi and Brakiri get even more reinforcements and fight? Or would their diplomats, and Sheridan, prevail in securing peace? It seemed like more than enough blood had been shed already, and all in the name of fear.

As Julia sat at her desk in her quarters, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, her silver night robe shimmering in the low light, she wondered about it all. Just days ago - although it certainly felt longer - she had seen two sides that had shed each other's blood agree to peace, regardless of the violence in their mutual past. Now it seemed a dream. The races in this universe seemed so frightened and hostile toward the Dilgar that they weren't listening to anything said. Every argument, every point, was distorted beyond recognition.

How did you stop such hate? How could you get through it?

Julia wasn't sure. She just had to hope that cooler heads prevailed.

The bridge of the Aurora was running smoothly as always. Cat was back at her proper station, and everyone else was at theirs. Julia and Meridina were in their chairs. "They still won't talk," Julia noted.

"Indeed not," Meridina agreed. "Director Holloran has been unable to secure agreement to resume discussions."

"I wonder what they're waiting for…"

"Reinforcements, probably," Jarod said.

"Well, we know the Avenger won't be coming back, at least," Locarno pointed out. "Given the damage they took, they're going to spend months in drydock."

"Maybe, maybe not," Jarod said. "We still don't know what kind of technology the Darglan left in their Facility. With their advantages with the nanites and in weapon emplacements fitted on their ship, they might also have better fabrication and industrial work drones than we had. They could get her fixed faster than we imagine."

"I doubt it'll be soon, either way…"

Before the conversation could continue, Cat looked up from her station. "We have jump points opening, a hundred thousand kilometers to port bow."

Julia drew in a breath. "On screen." She found herself hoping it was the White Star fleet.

It wasn't.

Over a dozen jump points opened in all. From each flew fighters and warships. Most of the warships were darkly-colored, with red and black patterns that seemed to emulate war paint. Two large weapon emplacements were set into the bow of the ships, the most prominent weapons on their profiles. Julia recognized them from the profiles of E5B1 ships she'd been studying.

Cat reported on them. "I'm picking up two dozen Narn cruisers. Most are G'Quan-class, two G'Sten-class. Multiple Narn fighters are accompanying each. They're coming out in combat formation."

"Given the Narn and the Drazi worked together against the Centauri a couple years ago, I'm not liking our odds," Jarod said. "Especially since those G'Sten-class ships have full deflector shields and artificial gravity." A moment later he noted something. "The Drazi are hailing them."

"Put them both on."

One screen showed a Narn in uniform seated in a chair, wearing a harness. Another showed Tarinak, who seemed over-eager. "At last, you have come," he said. "Join with us, Narn, and help us wipe the last of the Deathwalker's legacy from the face of the galaxy, along with those who dare to take up arms alongside them!"

Julia couldn't keep her stomach from turning. There were enough Narn ships that, given their lingering damage, the fight was clearly against them. She drew in a breath and couldn't quite let it go while waiting for the Narn response.

"I will relay you to our commander," said the Narn. A moment later the screen shifted to another room on what was presumably one of the G'Sten-class cruisers, as the occupant was clearly enjoying artificial gravity.

Julia let go of the breath she was holding.

"The Narn Regime has come to uphold the InterStellar Alliance Declaration of Principles," declared the author of the same. G'Kar looked every inch the leader on the screen, wearing the same leather garments Julia had seen him in the prior year. "Captain Tarinak, Captain Tabir, I insist you stand down immediately."

The Drazi captain's eyes had widened. He began to splutter. "But… but… how can you side with the Dilgar?! They are a threat and they must be…"

"I am well aware of all that has transpired, Tarinak," G'Kar retorted. "And I know that if anyone has been emulating the deeds of that monster Deathwalker, it has been your people and your single-minded quest for genocide. The Narn Regime will not stand for such conduct, and we will oppose you, here and on the Alliance Council."

At that point another image popped onto the screen. Julia recognized one of the Abbai delegates, in a graceful, flowing blue dress. "This is Ambassador Forna of the Abbai Matriarchy. The Matriarchy joins the Narn Regime in opposing the brutal methods that the Drazi and Brakiri have sought to impose upon the settlers of Tira."

"The Abbai ships are taking up formation with us," Jarod said. "Their defense systems are activating. And the Orsala is also charging weapons and maneuvering into position with us."

Despite the growing odds against him, including a Minbari War Cruiser, the Drazi commander seemed persistent. "But this is our chance!" Tarinak protested, almost wailing in doing so. "We can finish them off for good! If we let the Dilgar live…"

Caterina interrupted Tarinak's protest on the Aurora bridge. "Captain, the Cascor ships are breaking formation. They're withdrawing from the Drazi and Brakiri fleet."

An open audio transmission flashed through the system. "This is Admiral Timmar of the Cascor Commonwealth. We came here to defend the Alliance against Dilgar aggression, not participate in the genocide of a race. We will stand with G'Kar."

G'Kar folded his arms and looked at Tabir. "Follow the honorable Cascor to reason, friend. If we let them live, if we join hands with yesterday's enemies, we demonstrate to the galaxy that we have moved beyond the pain and blood of our past," G'Kar finished for him. "We will show everyone that the Alliance looks to the future."

"And if you're wrong?!" This was from Tabir. "If the Dilgar prove to be our foe after all…"

"Then we will face that future together. That is the entire point of the Alliance. We are one. The League failed against the Dilgar because it was not united as one. We will be one. We will have no need to fear them then." G'Kar held his hands together by way of demonstration. He seemed to re-focus slightly. Julia realized he was looking at her. "Captain Andreys. Commander Meridina. It is good to see you again."

"The same to you, G'Kar," Julia answered. For the first time in days she felt relieved. Everything was finally working out.

Now Shai'jhur was showing on the screen too. "Warmaster Shai'jhur. We have much to discuss," G'Kar said.

"Much, G'Kar, much," Shai'jhur answered softly from the bridge of the Magaratha. "I had held a fear that only the Humans would hear our efforts at peace. But I see it is not so. Let us sit, G'Kar, all at one table. And together, then, we will put an end to the Dilgar War."

Several days later, several of the ships that had once been in orbit over Tira were now in the orbital spaces over Rohric. G'Kar's ship, the G'Sten, was flanked by the Orsala. The Abbai, Brakiri, and Drazi ships were in a loose formation with the Minbari ship; the Aurora had her own orbit, with the Magaratha having another.

Now two more ships moved into position. A White Star took up a position with the other ships. And the Sirian League carrier Majestic had an orbit of her own.

Given all of the large ships, it was nevertheless little surprise that all of the participants insisted on having their conference on the Aurora. Julia and her officers were yet again in dress whites, but this time the personages were even more plentiful and august than they had been at Cestus 3. Among the tables in Conference Room 1 sat President Sheridan, President Morgan with Admiral Maran, G'Kar, and senior leaders - if not heads of state and government themselves - from the other former League races. Shai'jhur had her own table; Julia sat with President Morgan and Admiral Maran while her officers were among the spectators.

There had been another surprise as well. Another Warlock-class Earth destroyer, the EAS Titans under Captain Susan Ivanova, had arrived at the Rohric Conference. She had completed an upgrade cycle like the Huáscar, and one of her missions was to carry a skeleton crew to reclaim control of the ship from Captain Varma and her renegades who had left so much egg in the face of the Earth Alliance. The second was to deliver a representative of the New Eden Dilgar to the conference.

The years had been far kinder to Ari'shan than they had been to Shai'jhur. The Warmaster was a living wreck scarred by decades on pitiless Rohric, where Ari'shan had become a family man on a lovely, perfect garden world. He was still the shortest and smallest of the sons of Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan, but he had grown into a dignified presence which none could deny.

Shai'jhur was speaking. "Of course, as we now meet, I am already making arrangements to complete the release of seven hundred and four prisoners of war that we presently hold in detention. All were held according to the Geneva Conventions after having been taken as survivors of ships destroyed in operations we conducted after the Fall of Omelos. Unfortunately, no prisoners were within my area of operations upon the Fall of Omelos who predate it; but under my authority the laws and norms of war were observed, and though I understand that there will be protests that some were held in detention for upwards of thirty years, their confinement met all of the standards of international law…"

Julia listened without comment to the ongoing discussion. The end of decades of declared war was not done in an hour's talk. There were legal issues to be handled, such as Shai'jhur's release of prisoners and the status of Tira. The entire peace treaty that had previously been held as in force had to be renegotiated with Shai'jhur and her Union, with every term considered, discussed, bickered over, discussed again, and finalized. It was stultifying work, but it was the basis of diplomacy, the grease that made the wheels of grander moments turn.

The details were still coming together relatively quickly. Shai'jhur asked only for the systems of Omelos, Rohric, Wahant, Innata, and Tira, as well as a region of space with ill-defined jump-routes between them that looped in a semicircle around the antispinward edge of the Tal-kona'sha. Tra'dur had a place, too, showing in a presentation which Cat confirmed as the unbiased observer that the region held at most one garden or water world, so that very little in the way of bountiful space and useful planets were being ceded to the Dilgar by giving them the corridor.

The Cascor had taken the lead in taking responsibility for the actions of the former League powers at Tira, acknowledging the ships Shai'jhur had salvaged from their old fleet as rightful spoils of war. In what had clearly been a bit of horse-trading, the actions of the other old League powers were being ignored in favour of a scheme where only mercenaries who had actively murdered the Dilgar unborn would have charges brought against them, and only of manslaughter, not murder and genocide. This concession had allowed opposition elements in the Syndicracy to take control of the negotiations, and though they were slow, there was clear progress. A Truth and Reconciliation Commission would be formed instead to evaluate both sides without bringing further charges.

"And I must say, G'Kar, you ought to lead that commission. It seems a perfect role for you," Shai'jhur said as the conversation turned back to it in relation to claims by the POWs.

G'Kar nodded in reply. "I look forward to the task. Our peoples, all of them, must be given the chance to heal and move forward."

"Then we find ourselves looking at a future," Shai'jhur answered, "in which the blood has finally ceased to flow…"

As they continued to talk, Joseph Carrouthers from the Alliance Foreign Office Admissions Department stepped up to Julia from the gallery. "If I can have your attention for a moment, Captain?"

Julia turned away from the ongoing discussion and nodded at the man. "Alright," she said.

"We've finished the preliminary analysis of the Union's constitution. The governance structure is a series of five councils of parallel responsibilities, some split into two halves to ape a bicameral legislature, but they're all small, nine members each. The Warmaster still has a fair number of reserve powers-but in principle the position is elective on a life-term, though standing for it is very difficult. To her credit, Warmaster Shai'jhur has put real effort into securing the independence of the judiciary. There are certainly concerns, but a lot come down to how hard the system is to evaluate because of how radically different from a traditional Earth democracy it is in structure. Based on that, it's been decided to accept their candidacy. So, as the conference host, you can assure G'Kar that any observation mechanisms based on the Union being a candidate state can be guaranteed. Actual accession may be problematic, since they have such a small population, but that's a political concern outside the scope of our office. Affiliate status like New Liberty and New Caprica may be an alternative."

To that Julia nodded. "I'll relay that when appropriate. Thank you, Mister Carrouthers."

Once the layout of G'Kar's Truth and Reconciliation Committee was laid out, one of the Abbai Matriarchs raised the next point. "I would like to hear from the Allied Systems on the status of this Dilgar petition for admission, since it provides such an important foundation for this agreement."

Morgan and Maran both nodded to Julia - the President had certainly been informed beforehand - and she nodded back and leaned forward in her chair. She hadn't spoken much in these talks, even as host, allowing the others to guide the discussion as was warranted. Now some of the most important beings in the E5B1 Universe were giving her their undivided attention. "The Alliance Government has accepted the candidacy of the Union of Tira and Rohric."

"And if their candidacy is rejected by your organization?" That was from a Gaim. "What shall be our recourse then?"

"Well, there are alternatives to outright membership," Julia answered. "Even if their candidacy is ultimately denied, they are eligible for affiliate status with the Alliance, much as the New Liberty Colony and the New Caprica Confederation enjoy already. While this does grant more political independence than normal membership, affiliates are still subject to observation from the Alliance Government to ensure they are in compliance with the Alliance's foreign policies and standing international agreements. So essentially, whether or not they become full members of the Alliance, the Dilgar will be subject to the kind of Alliance oversight this treaty requires."

"Very well," the insectoid alien replied through the electronic voice of its translator. "The Gaim are satisfied by your response."

The other governments all echoed their general agreement.

As Julia was working on reports in the aftermath of the signing ceremony with G'Kar, President Morgan and Warmaster Shai'jhur, the soft trill of the door-buzzer intervened. "Come in," Julia said, looking up. The door slid open and the Warmaster walked in, a quiet expression upon her face. This time, she was alone.

"Captain Andreys. I wanted to take the moment to talk, if I may have some of your time."

Julia nodded. "Is everything okay?"

"Better than it has ever been before, most likely," she laughed, and moved to sit. "My latest talks with President Morgan were fortunately not about the peace here, but the war we will shortly be entering."

"So you're joining the fight against the Reich?" Julia smiled a little. "Given the losses we've endured, you'll be welcome. We can use all of the ships we can get. The way things are going, the Aurora is going to wind up at the front soon."

"Considering that you're maintaining a permanent neutrality patrol for our space, we had to do something to make up for it. Our starships are hardly like your's, but forty-five of them will more than compensate for the five ships your government will keep on permanent picket duty. And I also agreed to provide crews and commanders for five war emergency cruisers that will be given to us as lend-lease. And we do have the equipment and ability to mobilize fifteen light divisions for service outside of the Union, so I also committed that to President Morgan." From such a tiny state in population, it was an incredible effort, and Shai'jhur clearly knew it as she said it.

Julia knew it too. "It's sort of fitting, actually," she said. "I first learned of the existence of your species because people from this universe were comparing your old government to the Nazis. Now you'll be fighting at our side to put an end to the Reich."

"It is a chance for us to regain our honour and dignity. That is very important, for there to be symbols that we are valued and contribute, that who we are is not attrited by the path forward."

Julia was almost ashamed of the thought in her head. That if any of those Dilgar were harboring doubts of Shai'jhur's reforms, if any of them were inclined to think there was nothing wrong with what their people did, being exposed to the Nazis' atrocities could certainly be persuasion to the contrary. She nodded toward Shai'jhur instead. "I don't think anyone can criticize you on that score if you're helping us put the Nazis down."

"Oh, I'm always ready to be surprised," she said dryly. "Nonetheless, there are some ways that could help. It's part of why I came here. I'd like your advice on how it would be possible to get permission for an actual Alliance ship to be commissioned which has a crew that is half Dilgar, and half from the rest of your member nations. I would very much like to have such a symbol of united forces as an inspiration to my people and the Multiverse."

The thought was an ambitious one, Julia had to admit. "Well, I would bring it up with President Morgan and Admiral Maran, I suppose," she said. "And if you're ever in Portland, it wouldn't hurt to speak to Councilman Zoral from the Defense Committee, or Defense Minister Hawthorne. As much as Hawthorne's not one of my biggest fans, he's also got a lot of pull, and he might help you if he feels there's something to the idea." As the idea circulated in her head Julia nodded. "And I think it's a good idea. And with our shipyards implementing more and more Darglan technology, our biggest problem is finding people to crew ships, not getting new ones built."

"Then I will bring it forward. On the other side of things, I have given Kaveri and Zhengli both commissions as you know, and I intend to put two of the War Emergency Cruisers under their command. Assuming Zhengli recovers well enough for it."

"I can't imagine what it'd be like to have my crew mutiny on me." Julia shook her head. "Although I guess I'm spoiled by the fact that many of my senior officers are people I grew up with, and with a couple of exceptions I've known them all for years. It's a luxury most captains don't get. I hope she recovers. She'll make a fine addition to the Alliance fleet."

"It's just been very hard for her. Most of everyone she has known is dead, or thinks her a traitor. But she is not the only one suffering now. There's the New Eden Dilgar, too."

"I heard that Earth was expelling them." Julia shook her head. "It seems spiteful. I know that Humans in this universe haven't gotten over the Earth-Minbari War, but the way they go about things seems so counter-productive. I mean, the Minbari are basically gift-wrapping them new technology through the ISA, and some of them still believe this is all some trick to subjugate Humanity. We come along and they hate us too. It makes me wish we showed up a few years earlier in the timeline. Maybe we could have helped put Clark down in a way that didn't let his followers keep their influence…" Julia shook her head. "Although I know that's probably not how it would have gone."

"They're getting eighteen months, payment at market value, and payment for new homes and relocation. We're setting aside a more northerly archipelago on Tira for them. I hope their values will help the Tirans; I've asked Ari'shan to serve as the planetary governor. It's still an expulsion, no much how much they've tried to sugar-coat it. As for trying to end Clark's influence…" She shrugged. "Be thankful you are not the only heroes in the whole universe, Captain."

"I know there are others. I'm reminded every time I get to see Madeleine - Captain Laurent on the Challenger - and Li." Julia's look turned pensive. "When I think about people like Clark and his followers, what they've done, what they might've done… well, I can see why some people think it would be so much easier to just shoot them and be done with it."

Shai'jhur's expression hardened. "Hawk and his people. I read the reports. They're becoming monsters. Like drug addicts commanding a ship. We Dilgar were lucky, I fear for the next group, tainted by association, who faces their lynch law."

Julia nodded. "The damn thing is that he, they, are utterly sincere. They think they're out to make the Multiverse a better place. It reminds me of why we can't go around 'killing the bad guys'. It becomes far too easy to start seeing the world in black and white and to think you can be the absolute judge of it. Getting to decide who lives and dies…" Julia shook her head. "...I don't think anyone should have that right. Not by themselves."

"Well. I won't dwell on it, except to hope I won't have to face them again. If nothing else, I don't want any of my people being overzealous. The cloning chambers on Tira left a mark." She stretched and flashed her claws for a moment, before her expression lightened and she continued. "I'm taking up too much of your time, for which I apologize. However, I did have another matter to ask about before departing, if I may."

"Go right ahead." Julia grinned. "This is why I keep up with paperwork."

"Well then. I'd like for my daughter Tra'dur to be formally assigned as an exchange officer to the Aurora. She worked well here, got along with your crew, and contributed materially. You have helped us, we should repay the debt. And she's very eager for the chance."

Julia considered the idea. The reports from Cat, Lucy, and Lindstrom had all made clear how useful Tra'dur had been in stopping the bombs on the barrage gates, and the Dilgar science officer seemed quite eager. After several seconds she nodded. "I'll recommend it. Admiral Maran can put her into the Transfer Officer Training Program and get her into the next course right away."

"Thank you. I'd make one other offer-for a friendly baseball game between the crew-team on the Magaratha and your own-but Rohric is, alas, not very welcoming to foreigners. Perhaps when we visit you at another port?"

Shai'jhur couldn't have anticipated the wince that briefly formed on Julia's face. Julia noticed the confusion that showed on the Dilgar ruler's expression and fought to turn her expression into a friendlier one. "Sorry," she said. "Yes, that sounds like it'd be fun. There are quite a few baseball fans and players on the crew." But not the one who should be here…

"Well, if the chance comes… With my regards." She reached down, and fishing it from her pocket, offered Julia a baseball. "It will be interesting. The Centauri only had a copy of the 1903 rules."

"Oh, it will be," Julia agreed, forcing a smile on her face as she accepted the baseball. It looked off, which was understandable given the Dilgar were a century behind the game Julia learned about growing up. The hard part was the thought of Zack that went through her head while looking it over. "And I'm looking forward to the game." And hoping Zack will be back for it...

The talks had finished. The agreements had been signed. The old League races and the new races of the ISA were departing. Lawfully, formally, and in fact, there was peace. The Dilgar lived. And now, there were just the loose ends of the changes that had been wrought. Like this one.

"Good Morning, Ari'shan," Shai'jhur offered as the legendary pilot entered. She was seated next to Kaveri with breakfast. "I know you look like you have something very important to ask me, but please, sit, we've enough food for you as well."

He glanced between the two of them before moving to sit. "Shai'jhur. It has been a very long time since we've seen each other, even if that was only in passing. Miss Varma. A pleasure to meet you again." The younger Dilgar inclined his head in respectful greeting. "I accept the hospitality."

"A long time indeed. Certainly no chance to ever speak privately before. I'm sorry about the affairs with New Eden being what they are, but… My offer to tap you as the Governor of Tira is sincere, and I hope you're giving it considerable thought."

"The Earth Alliance has a similar divergence of opinion to… well, no. That's not true. The civil war proved, as loathe as I am to admit it, that Jha'dur was right. The humans could have been us, with different pressures. Just as we could have been them. I will accept the position, with some reservations and caution. We need to move forward, and you offer our best chance of doing so, with the expulsion of my people from human space."

"Thank you, Governor." Shai'jhur grinned and leaned back. "Obviously, all of your reservations have to be within the constitution, but I don't think that will be an issue. I will be appointing my eldest daughter Tai'jhur as my Seneschal, as I expect to be commanding the expeditionary force against the Nazis…"

"On the note of my sister, Warmaster… I cannot help but notice your daughters, some of them share a very… rare but storied clan name that differs from your own."

Shai'jhur blinked, looking like a woman for all the world trying to avoid something she should have known was coming. "Well, they are related to the House of Dur. I'd hardly give that name to some of my children in idle…"

Kaveri spoke up, a softly hesitant tone in the way she spoke, "I had wondered the same, I admit. There were only two at the start of the war, and only one at the end…"

Shai'jhur stiffened, silent.

"If they are my sister's, Warmaster, I do not hold it against them, or you. Jha'dur was… brilliant, a mind of the like not seen in a thousand years… but the burdens she bore… also turned her into what she became. Your daughters seem… very much like what I wish she could have been - what she wanted to be."

Shai'jhur's voice cut with unusual vehemence. "I had to find some way to honour her…. Honour our fleet! We fought, and we died by the tens of thousands, and I approved the curricula, I gave the orders - no praise, no glory, no honour for all of those who perished…" She collapsed, weeping freely. "Damn it all, but all of those ghosts haunt me and I must tell them that they are remembered as a faceless mass led to die by the evil."

"She was our leader. The Warmaster of First Strike Fleet. You know that, you know that. We all loved her. Every one of us would die for her, and most of us did. Ari'shan, Kaveri… She was our symbol, our commander. I had to honour her and the dead through her, somehow. So, I found my way." She wiped at her tears and looked up, blinking wide, yellow eyes. "The genetic database of the Warmasters. I had Spectre Fei'nur salvage it. The second genetic donor to all six of my children is Warmaster Jha'dur."

Ari'shan nodded, slowly. "I understand the bonds of comrades in war, Shai'jhur, and I understand the desire to find something to tell ourselves it was worth it."

Kaveri looked more pensive for a long moment, before reaching out to embrace the smaller Dilgar and pull her closer. "You have done no evil in this." A pause. "Do they know? I assume so, by their ages…" Kaveri would ask, pitching her question loud enough for Ari'shan to hear, as the aging pilot leaned back, shaking his head at the thought of what Jha'dur would have thought to have six kits… by Shai'jhur. Gods, but she'd have been furious, I think. I think.

"Yes," Shai'jhur was answering Kaveri "I taught them honestly. They know she's their mother, too, and they can make their own decisions about her as long as they understand the policy of the government. For the most part, I think they're very mature… Though, Ari'shan, you may want to talk to Nah'dur someday. I think she quietly idolizes Jha'dur. She's my youngest and she's always been terrifically impertinent…"

"So was Jha'dur, once she had her confidence. I will try and give your youngest a further understanding of Jha'dur, beyond the likely ideal she idolizes."

"Thank you…" Shai'jhur laughed harshly and bitterly. "Jha'dur commanded me to have children to do my duty by my race. I have done my duty. Her blood will enrich us for a thousand generations, more brilliant than any other Dilgar who has ever lived. The humans would never understand-present company excepted-but I actually think Supreme Warmaster Jha'dur might: I had a moral, ethical duty to keep her blood from perishing from the diversity of our race. And the House of Dur deserved my womb and household to its service, for no others could be trusted with the duty of raising up her line. Gods hold us fast."

"She was always seeking to make herself difficult to understand, Warmaster. In the later months of the war… that side of her may not have. She certainly always felt the pressure of being one of the only Dur, and when her brother was killed… she changed. Despite everything, I…" Ari'shan trailed off. "She was my sister, and the Vorlons likely killed her. Not even seeing my pilot's wings could shake her out of her course, when the EIA went to talk with her on Babylon 5, to try and invite her to New Eden. Her shadow will be something we may someday succeed in escaping, but her legacy is another matter."

"I don't wish to escape it completely," Shai'jhur replied bluntly. "Oh, I have made myself more human than I often care to admit, Ari'shan. Let my daughters become more human than sometimes pleases me. I can love a human without being one. Gods, but it seems poor Zheng-li is more interested in our culture than her own at this point, so I understand the feeling of, ah, alienation. But Jha'dur did give one overriding objective in the war, that seemed to still be the reason she refused to come to New Eden, an objective sound enough that I obey it, gods protect the Alliancers from ever finding out. Keep the Dilgar, Dilgar."

Ari'shan's face pinched in a bit of upset anger. "I did the best I could to lead my people, Warmaster. The Alliance had requirements, demands, things that had to be done."

"Oh, in your place I'd have done the same, Gods, don't get me wrong! You had fifty thousand. Keep our blood alive and trust that the blood is strong! That was it, I understand. But for me, I wanted the political and cultural foundations of participatory governance and of Law to be fundamentally Dilgar, untainted by human example. I don't know what she'd think, but I think this was the right cut to make."

"You held to the old oaths, and the laws, as I wished we could have during the war. The Alliance… they never told me details of… anything, really. I had human friends, yes, before most died fighting the Minbari. What they did tell me, however…" He leaned forward, and whispered directly into Shai'jhur's ear, before sitting back, holding a disquieted expression on his face.

Shai'jhur rocked back in her chair and looked between the two of them. "Gods. May I not live to see the day."

"I would not hold out hope that fate is yet done with our people, Warmaster, but we are Dilgar, and we will go forward, together, all of us."

"Excuse me? Battlemaster? Are you quite all right?" The nervously respectful Dilgar trembled, even at using the rank with a human, no matter what uniform she was in. He had come from the tiny glassware shop across the narrow hall on the station, and probably ran it. She had been there for several hours, not moving from the seat in the hallway, staring out at the stars. And she was far from the places that officers and government agents usually congregated.

"No, but I thank you for asking." Her lips and tongue weren't quite designed for the hisses and growls of Dilgar, but she replied easily enough, looking up and giving a polite, if strained, smile, keeping her 'fangs' behind her lips so as to not give unintentional challenge to a stranger. "Do you make your glass, or resell that others do? Forgive me for asking. Is my sitting here an issue? You may speak freely." I think that may have been the most words I have strung together in three days.

"We make our own," he answered proudly, "in the zero-gravity sectors. It is one of the few arts we can afford, and it is lovely. Would you like to come into the shop and see, M'lady? You've done nothing wrong, but we worried you were unwell and wished to call someone if you needed it and we might be of service."

"We?" She forced herself to stand, brushing imaginary lint off her uniform jacket as she did. "Please, show me? It has been a difficult last few weeks, and I will be off to war soon enough, it seems. What is your name? I am Zhengli'Varma." Somehow, the syllables rolling together felt right in her head.

The man smiled a little nervously. "It is a grand name, certainly, Battlemaster. Clan Varma is already well-respected, considering the stories that have been told around the Warmaster's work. You were at Tira, then. Please, come as an honoured guest. The we is myself, my mate, my eldest who work this all. We are lucky, to be stationers, and lucky too, to have our own business when so much serves the needs of the state. I shall be pleased to show you our art."

"I would be pleased to see it. Be at ease, I have come from humble roots, and not forgotten whence I did."

"I would honour you for what you have done, not who you are, Battlemaster." He paused at the front of the shop, hesitating for a moment. "In those ages past of my mother and father's time, that was what we aspired to. To be judged by what we had done, not who we were. Now, the Warmaster teaches us that lesson well. Here, Battlemaster, come and see my wares, and judge us for what we have done, too. I shall be very proud if M'lady approves. If you are to be among us, it makes me happy that you would learn our art and our ways! I never dreamed aliens would do such."

"An honest craftsman's work is always worthy of approval. If you have some of our classical work that will survive most of what a spacer may throw at it, I shall be quite keen to acquire at least a small set."

He paused, and looked at her for a moment at her use of our… And then smiled. "I do have some pieces in the classical tradition of Dilgar art, and a few of the solid glass ones will surely stand a pounding in the quarters of a starship commander…"
Later, looking back on that moment, Zhengli realized it was the first time she had really felt comfortable since she had involuntarily left Babylon-5.

Shai'jhur was sitting at her desk on Far Outer Station, reading through the copious masses of files she had to authorize, most of them relating to the admissions process for the Alliance that she had begun. Sitting there, sometimes drinking tea, she was thoroughly subdued until the moment of a familiar rustling.

Fei'nur at least had the grace to look uncomfortable, as she wavered into view. "Forgive me, Warmaster… but if I may? I don't think Warmaster Jha'dur spared you solely due to your competence. In her personal effects salvaged from Vendetta, I found… this…"

In her hand was a ragged old magazine, glossy and plastered with gaudy advertisements, one of a multitude that had hawked cheap consumer goods on Omelos, before the war.

Shai'jhur saw that in block letters the advertisements had been overwritten by two words: Practical Cookbook. Quietly, and with a bit of trembling anticipation, she opened the pages. Inside, carefully and neatly cut, were parts of labels, carefully glued to pages. She recognized them immediately, though the words were preserved to remove any doubt.

Jhur Family Canned Meat Products
A Handy Recipe for Family Satisfaction
With meat from wonderful radiation-free Rohric!

"Warmaster, I believe that you were spared because of the memories she had of those cans, of what they had represented to her when she was trying to survive." Her eyes flickered up to fix on Shai'jhur's. "What yourself and Battlemaster Varma had done would not likely have otherwise been forgiven."

"When she… I read the files, you well know. When she was an orphan, and dreadfully poor. Her and her brother must have half-lived off the cans my family's ranches produced, didn't they?" She looked at the pages, half trembling and half spellbound.

"She never spoke of such things, Warmaster. You know she was intensely private about her life, but… if you could accept the occasional bit of bloody coughing when the sterilizing didn't quite work properly, it was the best canned meat you could get, on the kind of money my family had. She was always logical. Avoiding the sorts of contaminants in the other foods at that price point would be worth it."

Shai'jhur grew very still, and stared down at the faded can labels glued onto the advertisements. They had been neatly, with a child's hand, organized by type of recipe. They had been carefully pressed. It was a smart girl, taking special care to make a useful thing that would last. Old above her time, wise for her age. Brilliant.

But just a poor orphan girl trying to help her brother.

"Have you ever thought that life is just a collection of great circles, and that Jha'dur and I simply spent decades traveling ours?" Shai'jhur's voice was cracked and hoarse, but not from the spores. She looked up. "Though she cannot know it, and did not know it when she gave the command, Warmaster Jha'dur saved the Dilgar."

"I wish to think, Warmaster, that she would be happy for it. She did not want what was thrust upon her, the power, the responsibility. It destroyed her, but in the end… she won. We Dilgar endure, making our own path."

"In another century there will be billions of Dilgar again. They will have the chance to set their own course, and the Alliance will shelter us until we can stand on our own feet. It will be their decision whence to take the next step in the journey. We will be in our graves… And I think I'm glad for that."

"I hope the Supreme Warmaster has a chance to see this, and some-day live amongst us again, ma'am. She deserves that much, wherever she is."

Shai'jhur stared at the wall for a long time. She didn't answer the last Spectre's comment. Then she quietly folded the cookbook closed and handed it to Fei'nur. "Give this to Nah'dur when she's mature enough to understand it. She'll be the one to appreciate it the most."

"Yes, Warmaster, I shall. She will be proud of them all, I think." The tall woman stepped back, and shimmered back out of visibility once more.

Tag

The Starship Aurora continued a quiet orbit over the dead world, the last testament to the people who had made her and the organization she represented possible. The ship's vigil over the broken world of She'teyal, the homeworld of the extinct Darglan species, was a temporary assignment. The Shenzhou was now leading the Alliance task force monitoring the borders of the Dilgar Union, and her replacement as the ship overseeing the excavations on the Darglan homeworld would not arrive for another day or so.

Julia stood alone in her quarters looking out on the dead world. Her uniform for the next day was already laid out, while her silver nightgown shined slightly in the dimmed lights of her quarters. Sixteen months ago she had stood on the surface of She'teyal in an EVA suit, looking out on the ruins left by the species that changed her life long after they had been exterminated. It was that same mission that prompted their first contact with the races of the E5B1 universe and their first visit to Babylon-5, which in turn had made their participation in the history of the last two weeks possible.

The past few months felt like a whirlwind even by the standards of her life since the discovery of the Darglan Facility beneath the mound on the Dale family's farm. As Captain of the Aurora she had gone from a desperate battle against the Cylons to the stand-off with the Aururians, the Fracture survey mission and the encounter and battle there, and now the fight over the fate of the Dilgar. It seemed like these quiet moments were few and far between given those crises. She wondered if it would get any worse, and figured that it probably would.

At the same time, the accomplishments made it all worthwhile. Thanks to her efforts the Aururian Empire and their rivals, the League of Democratic Worlds, were allies in the war with the Reich. The Cylon threat had been thwarted. Princess Allura and her Castle of Lions - and that green lion ship piloted by Katie "Pidge" Holt - had been protected from being seized by NEUROM's sinister Ministry of Fate, winning the Alliance a potentially powerful ally in the long term, and in the process learning more about the origins of the Falaens of Universe A7R6. And this situation with the Dilgar… because of that, Julia had literally sat at the same table as the President of the Allied Systems while serving as the host of one of the greatest assemblages of leaders the E5B1 universe, maybe even the whole Multiverse, had seen. The likes of President John Sheridan and G'Kar had treated her as a figure of respect. Growing up, she had always anticipated becoming some business owner, or maybe a low level politician, when she dreamed about gaining responsibility and becoming a leader. Thanks to the Darglan, her dreams had become nothing compared to the reality of her accomplishments.

And yet… and yet there was a bittersweet taste to it. A bittersweet taste that became the center of Julia's thoughts when her eyes met the invitation Shai'jhur had offered. The Dilgar leader's interest in Human culture had felt bizarre at times but, in the light of what the Dilgar went through, understandable. That they picked baseball of all sports to emulate…

Julia found that, like before, she couldn't look at anything concerning baseball without thinking of Zack Carrey. He was her friend, and knowing he was out there suffering following the loss on New Caprica…

And then there was Robert Dale. Her oldest, truest friend in the world, the one person who was without a doubt her soulmate. Months in a coma, then waking up to find that the powers he'd barely been capable with were suddenly greater than he ever imagined. Cumulatively he'd been gone for half of a year now, a void that she thought of whenever he wasn't there to share breakfast or dinner, or to discuss their missions, or simply chat about how their lives were going. She found that, regardless of her success, she missed them both.

We're supposed to be doing this together she thought. The three of us, and the others…

Julia finally stepped away from the window and went over to her desk. She sat there for a quiet moment, looking over the Dilgar-made baseball Shai'jhur had gifted her, until she could no longer stop herself. A tap of a key activated the comm systems. The Aurora's interuniversal and subspace transceiver arrays stood ready to transmit whatever she wrote or said.

She smiled warmly. "Hey Zack," she said. "Uh… it's been a while and I just wanted to let you know that we miss you. I hope you're getting a handle on things. I know you've been through a lot, and I'm sorry that I didn't do enough to help you deal with it. Maybe then… maybe you wouldn't have left…"

A hundred light-years and a universe away from the Starship Aurora and the lifeless world of She'teyal was a garden world of Universe S2C3 that, two years before, was dubbed Guanxi. The settlers of the planet were initially Chinese from the planet New Guangdong in Universe L2M1. But as sometimes happened with these worlds the flow of migrants shifted and the primary settlement of Deng Guo City was now heavily populated by Caucasian and South Asian settlers from the D3R1 universe, mostly Colonial Confederation or individuals who decided the Arcturan Freeholds were a bit too "free" for their personal comfort (and safety).

The resulting melange of cultures and languages gave Deng Guo City - "Deegee City" to the local English speakers - some unique aspects, including a growing patois of Malayalam, English, and Chinese. What was certainly not unique was the usual kinds of establishments to cater to the ships coming and going from the Deng Guo City Spaceport. Guanxi was the breadbasket of the Allied System colonies in S2C3, and the spaceport was often full of ships landing to pick up foodstuffs for the mining colonies and settlements in nearby star systems while dropping off everything from raw ore to consumer goods manufactured elsewhere. The trading ships came from the local Human star nations to add their own goods to the local markets and to pick up Alliance-made consumer goods for sale elsewhere. Catering to these spacers and merchants were the usual assortment of bars, drinking holes, and brothels. Sometimes they were even under the same roof.

One such bar was an establishment with the eccentric name of "Pop Tate's Chocolate Shop". It was not quite disreputable but leaning in that direction. Inside a handful of patrons, mostly spacers or people passing through, were seated at tables. A holo-vid viewer displayed a news report about the war in S4W8. An old school jukebox was playing music from the local S2C3 Humanity's listings, a cover of Elvis Presley's "Suspicious Minds". Only two men were up at the bar, nursing drinks.

One of them was Zachary Carrey.

He was in civilian wear, a jean jacket with a wool-lined collar over a faded blue shirt with the insignia of his old minor league baseball team on it. Blue jean pants the same color as his jacket were buckled by a black leather belt around his waist. A pair of blue sneakers covered his feet, which were perched up on the stool he was seated upon. A half-finished glass of bourbon was set before him while his eyes were fixed on the digital pad in his hand. Audio continued to play.

"Maybe then… maybe you wouldn't have left…" said the voice of the woman he loved more than anything in the Multiverse, a fact that further fueled the guilt he felt within. "I just wish you would stop hating yourself. You deserve to be happy too. Even if you go through with this resignation, if you leave the Koenig and Aurora behind… please, just find something you love doing, and do it. Don't waste your life away. Clara wouldn't want that. Rob wouldn't. I don't want that. Please. I know that you blame yourself for Clara…"

With a tap of a key on the device, Zack paused the audio message from Julia. A swipe of his finger brought up the image he kept on the display. Clara looked resplendent in her crisp white nurse's uniform. Her dimpled smile was as radiant as a star. Looking into those bright eyes, full of love, was like a stab to Zack's heart; those eyes would never be bright again. He closed his own eyes as tears formed in them and his mind flashed back to the mining facility on New Caprica. To the sight of Clara's body, riddled with bullets fired from a Cylon Centurion.

Although he knew it was futile to try, Zack grabbed the glass of bourbon and downed what he had left, as if it could wash away that painful memory.

"Too bad it doesn't work," a voice grumbled.

Zack set the glass down and turned his head to the left. Two stools down was another bar patron. He was an older man, probably in his forties Zack guessed, or maybe thirties and a very hard life. His black hair was grown out some, not quite to shoulder level, but his beard and mustache weren't. Bits of gray showed in the beard.

"My dad never gave up trying," Zack mumbled. "So it must have done something." He slid the glass forward and, after a moment of inward struggle, produced a plastic bill of currency for the nearby bartender, a grizzled man in his fifties with a dark bronze complexion. A bottle of bourbon whiskey was produced from under the bar and employed to refill his glass. The money disappeared.

"Lovely lady you've got," the other man said. "Sad story there, I'm guessin'." He produced his own currency. More brown fluid was poured into his glass.

"Yeah." Zack looked over his new drinking partner. He was in a white shirt, short-sleeved, with well-developed muscle on his tattooed arms. The shirt hung down over a pair of camo-patterned pants. There was a hardness in the distant look in his brown eyes. Zack spotted an object in the other man's hand, a photo of someone with a Caucasian skin tone. Given the position of the man's thumb he couldn't quite make out the face or other features, but Zack could see red hair that looked like it had been pulled into a ponytail. "I guess I'm not the only sad story." Zack brought the glass to his lips and took a small drink.

"You could say that," the older man said. "Your sad story?"

Zack took another drink and forced it down. The haze of the alcohol was spreading through his head. "She came out here because of me. She died out here trying to help people. And the damned thing is, I didn't deserve her at all. As much as I loved her, I'm in love with someone else."

"Right." The man nodded. He took a drink.

"Your's?" asked Zack.

"Not dead."

"Oh?"

Even through the haze growing in his head, Zack could see the haunted look that came to those eyes. "Worse," was all he said.

Zack nodded wordlessly. And he took another drink.

The haze in his head was such that he didn't quite pay attention when the other man got a call. The voice of another man was speaking, a younger man with a crisp, military tone that reminded Zack of Apley. Zack caught a reference to the ship being ready but little else. When the discussion was over the older man quietly stood from his stool. He made sure to collect the photo of the red-headed woman. He left a small pile of bills on the bar. "Here. Another one, on me," he said to Zack.

Zack almost asked his name, but it came out slurred, and it was too late besides. His drinking partner was gone.

The bartender collected the cash and poured Zack another drink. Zack turned the message from Julia back on and listened to her plead with him to not Clara's death destroy him, how everyone cared for him, all of that fun stuff that was both true and yet not what he needed to hear. Zack finally sighed and turned the message off. He fumbled for another bill.

The bartender shook his head. "No more for you," he said, in an accent that was vaguely South Asian Indian. "Time to go."

Zack frowned at that. He scooped the money back up and went to the door.

He never saw the blow coming. Pain shot through the alcoholic haze and he span about, hitting the ground with a surprised cry. Bleary, he looked up in time for a man to grab him by the collar and haul him bodily into a nearby alley. Once there a fist slammed into his chest, right above his stomach and over his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. Zack crumbled to the ground. Someone kicked him in the side. He heard voices speaking but they made no sense. He looked up to see three men arrayed around him. He glimpsed something dark in the hands of one, who was shouting something to the others.

Then there was another voice. The men turned. One went for a weapon, but before he could bring the gun up he went flying. Zack nearly fell unconscious at that point and was only vaguely aware that his attackers were being beaten back. By the time his senses had returned - relatively speaking given how much bourbon he'd had - he was alone with just one other figure in the alley. His rescuer was in a jacket… no, not a jacket, a robe, of brown color, with a hood that cast shadows that obscured the face. He could just make out what looked like loose cream-colored pants on the legs of the figure. Something in his head told him he'd seen this kind of clothing before. It wasn't Human-style clothing, but something close…?

His rescuer reached up and lowered his hood. This revealed the face of a bearded man, the beard made of dark hair - darker than Zack's own - and well-trimmed.

But what finally caused Zack's mind to recognize his rescuer was the warmth in his familiar green eyes, the same warmth evident in the man's voice as he reached down to take Zack's hand.

"Hey Zack," said Robert Dale, grinning at his friend as he helped Zack to his feet. "It's been a while."