This story was based on the Babylon 5 universe by J. Michael Straczynski.

The Long Trial, Part Three
Chapter 18ÑEpiphanies on the Night Watch
By R. Bernstein


Things were getting worse. The skirmishes between the Centauri and the Narn 
were turning into a slaughter, and Earth Gov was waffling about putting any 
pressure on the Centauri to abandon their conquest. And now Jensen expected 
her to go to this meeting, a Nightwatch meeting. "ItÕs a sub-division under the 
jurisdiction of the Ministry of Peace. Since weÕll be collaborating with them quite 
a bit, you need to be there. And since there has been a call for volunteers, it 
would be a good idea for you to join. This will make our collaboration and 
communication run seamlessly."

So much for ÔvolunteerÕ, Havah thought, as she grabbed her pad and materials 
and headed out.

The meeting was crowded, and she wrapped her sweater tightly around her 
shoulders and took a seat. The speaker began amidst the chatter. "If youÕll all 
please sit so we can begin. I know youÕre all curious about the Nightwatch, and 
so this meeting has been organized to clear up any questions, and extend the 
opportunity to get involved. My name is John Ashby, IÕm the Acting Director. This 
organization as you know, is a sub-division of the Ministry of Peace. The 
Ministry of Peace, as you know, was created to promote legislation and 
activism for peaceful solutions to internal conflicts. These conflicts have been 
barriers to efficiency and integration of services within Earth Gov and even 
within society in general. That being said, the Nightwatch is an 
operationalization of the mission of the Ministry. What that means is that the 
Nightwatch as a division, has been granted authority to mediate certain 
situations in which these barriers occur. For example, take a group of 
protesters, such as those weÕve seen in the capital lately. Many are simply 
expressing anger at a need that they have, which hasnÕt been met. Some suffer 
from mental illness, homelessness, many risk being assaulted as a result. 
Our organization has the resources to assist these individuals by investigating 
their situations so that their dissatisfaction can be resolved. It doesnÕt even 
have to be someone in such a dramatic circumstance, it can even be someone 
you work with, someone whom you know is unhappy with the current 
establishment. We can help. Communication is key. There is no way for us to 
help if we donÕt know what is wrong. But the manner of communication is 
important. People who contribute to slanderous web-sites, and questionable 
sources of media communicate their dissatisfaction in a destructive way, and 
we no longer have the luxury of catering to this kind of attitude, especially when 
there are better ways. So, the Nightwatch is setting up a system of surveillance 
in order to detect destructive communication at the source and locate people 
who need assistance with the hope of resolving some of these problems 
before they start."

Someone in back raised his hand. "What kind of surveillance?"

"Well, whatever is necessary, work history, which we already have access to, 
military records, if applicable, police records, if applicable, credit reports, which 
we already have access to, so that we can identify financial distress if that is a 
factor, political affiliation, medical or mental health records if that appears to be 
an issue."

HavahÕs stomach convulsed and the ache swiftly crept up to her chest.  TheyÕre 
going to find out! TheyÕre going to find out about my father! Trying to mask the 
bile that percolated into the back of her throat, she raised her hand. "What 
about privacy laws?!"

"Those laws donÕt apply here, since weÕre a federal agency acting under the 
new statute. We have the authority to request identifiable information on 
individuals, should it be deemed necessary, as long as that data is not given to 
commercial or other private agencies, or agencies that do not have clearance 
or demonstrate a need for the data." He waved his hand at her. "Now, this 
sounds much more invasive and melodramatic than it really is. And of course, 
volunteers of Nightwatch wonÕt fall under surveillance. There is no need. 
Obviously, if you are here, then you know how to communicate effectively and 
donÕt require assistance, unless you should ask. WeÕre not asking anyone to 
bug houses and hang outside peopleÕs domiciles in an abandoned shuttle, 
just keep your eyes and ears open, thatÕs all. We know all of you are busy with 
your job duties, and this is not time intensive, just to illustrate how little drama 
this really entails. But, should you decide to become part of our collaborative 
project, we will draft a letter to your supervisors or commanding officers, and 
pay for any time you do happen to be taken away from your current duties. You 
will receive a hundred-fifty credit stipend per month."   

So a hundred- fifty clams a month to spy on people. Except they donÕt know 
thatÕs what IÕm doing now, and they are the target. Watching the Watchers. The 
thought of volunteering for Nightwatch turned her blood cold, but what better 
way to get into the inner cabal, and what better way to stay off their radar. The 
meeting wore on, elaborating the fine points of their new authority and 
limitations, and then the solicitation for volunteers, with a station set up in the 
back for contact information and flyers. When Havah came to the front of the 
line, a man with white-blonde hair winked at her as he took her information and 
handed her a black armband emblazoned with the Nightwatch emblem. She 
resisted the urge to tie it around his throat. She slowly put it on and returned to 
the office. Jensen eyed it, nodded curtly and then left for another meeting. She 
sat feeling the constriction around her arm, as though it was cutting off all the 
blood to her fingers, and then finished her work for the day and went home. As 
she entered, the mirror in the hall caught her reflection. With her dark pressed 
shirt, pants and armband, a ghost from the old Nationalist Party stared back at 
her. She ripped off the band, tossed it on the floor, threw cloths over the mirrors 
in the apartment and turned out the lights.

* * * * * * * * 

Since the Nightwatch was a global organization, meetings were organized by 
geographic location and collaborative agency. Havah attended meetings with 
most of the people from the main campus. They started off innocently, more 
like gossip and chat sessions than formal meetings. After a few more however, 
the calls for ÔreportsÕ became pointed. And then a floating representative 
attended, a slick fellow named Mr. Welles. His dulcet tone instantly needled 
under HavahÕs skin. "All we are looking for are indications of events or people 
who are acting unusual, even if you think that it is trivial. It is better to have the 
information and bring the issue into the open, here, so that it can be 
discussed."

"I had green hair and an eyebrow ring in high school. Define unusual." Havah 
blurted. 

That was a mistake, now she had attracted his attention and he slithered over 
to her chair. And he was one of those people, who had no sense of personal 
boundary space, and put his hands on the person to whom he was speaking 
for emphasis or persuasion, and he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders 
as he spoke, coming around behind her, looking down at her upturned face, 
like a parent patronizing a child. "Yes, and IÕm sure it was unusual at the time, 
but you do not have green hair now. You have learned that it was disruptive, and 
you have grown out of the adolescent need to rebel against authority. It is no 
longer necessary. Correct?"

Havah shrugged his hands off and nodded grudgingly.

"Now you are able to behave in a manner more constructive for your society. 
The kind of behavior we are looking for is not constructive for anyone, including 
the individuals who maintain it. If that behavior is identified, we will better serve 
those people by assisting them in adopting a more positive outlook and help 
them better organize their lives, relationships, and work spaces."

Behavior, proper behavior. Havah thought inadvertently of her father and his 
concern. "So, what kind of data exactly are you looking for? You still havenÕt 
defined ÔunusualÕ. You want us to report, but we need a format. What 
constitutes Ôbad behaviorÕ? Where are the boundaries of what we are 
supposed to report?"

 "Whether they are attitudes, beliefs, knowledge or behavior, ÔnegativeÕ can be 
interpreted as dissension or resentment concerning authority, whether it is a 
laxness in the following of laws, or the expression of misleading ideas about 
the current establishment. Misrepresentation can be dangerous, and is in fact 
against civil law, as you know, and can be litigated under libel." His silken voice 
had a hard edge.

"Ahh. SoÉand IÕm just trying to clarify your expectations, misleading ideas can 
mean speaking out against the President or a given current policy?"

"It canÉyes, because it can lead to barriers in efficiency. Understand however, 
that this is not a police state by any means. We are not penalizing individuals 
who are investigated, merely identifying needs in order to address them, 
heading off strife before it can come to fruition. Do you understand?"

Havah forced a smile. "Yes, thank you." She had played a dangerous game 
questioning in that manner. 

But after a moment of scrutiny, Mr. Welles beamed at her and clapped his hand 
on her shoulder again. That was really getting aggravating. "Good, good. It is 
perfectly fine to ask questions, and good that you are taking care with the quality 
of information, excellent! And now that your confusion has been clarified, IÕm 
sure we can look forward to thorough observations from you, MissÉ"

"Lassee." She almost cringed, the affected smile trying to slide off her face.

But his praise had sparked a spate of reports from other participants. Oddly 
enough, they genuinely seemed to believe that they were assisting the people 
at the heart of the incidents or rumors they proffered, and even offered good 
faith suggestions on how to help them. Havah just sat and watched. Who gets 
this data, and what is really done with it? She wondered, but decided not to call 
more attention to herself in an open meeting for now.

* * * * * * * * 

A couple months later, she was on line at the cafeteria, when a Nightwatch 
member spoke next to her. "Gorgeous day today. YouÕd almost believe that 
spring was coming. Perfect day to feed gulls." It was Lieutenant Commander 
Byron. He took his lunch in a box and exited the cafeteria. She sat down with 
her tray, fighting the urge to go after him. What if it was a trap? He was 
Nightwatch now, after all. He had come through once before though. She put 
her lunch in a box and left. Gulls, he went to feed the gulls. 

She found him near the lake, sitting on the cement stairs leading to the water. 
She said nothing, but sat next to him and unpacked her food. He kept tossing 
bread to the birds. He reached into his jacket and placed a data crystal in her 
box. "It needs to be off-world." 

"And what makes you think IÕd do that? What makes you think I could if I wanted 
to?"

"Because you wear this for the same reason as me." He tugged the band. She 
didnÕt answer, just pocketed the crystal. "Thanks." 

* * * * * * * * 

Havah slipped the crystal into the port, hand quivering. There it was. Since 
leaving Babylon 5 and talking at length with Sinclair, she had learned that 
Garibaldi had found a triangulation device, just before the explosion of Earth 
Force One. Before an investigation could take place, the device, and the man 
who shot Garibaldi had all been transferred to the custody of a federal agent by 
order of the new ÔPresidentÕ. None of the cargo, electronic or human ever 
reached Earth. But here was a ghost, the minutest paper trail, like dissolving 
footprints in the sand. The first document was the draft of a plan, dated to five 
years ago, when Clark had still been a senator from Florida. It outlined in 
frightening detail the formation of an agency called the Ministry of Peace, with 
subdivisions including one serving the same functions as the Nightwatch. A 
foreign policy, which was a polar opposite to the one Clark had espoused 
under Santiago, was elaborated right down to a hypothesized domination of 
Human business and military on the interstellar exchange. And one of the 
names listed in the meeting minutes at which this plan was drafted was a Mr. 
Morden. The next set of documents was more current, dated to November 13, 
2258, a month and a half before the murder of President Santiago. It was an 
accounting transaction signed by Clark that established a special fund, for 
access by an agency called Future Corp. She began recognizing names on the 
roster of Board members. Many were members of other extremely powerful 
corporations, Anthony Bartlett, Walter Higgins, William EdgarsÉand she was 
no longer surprisedÉ Morden. She scrolled through documents, and the next 
set of data was a batch of personal information: names, addresses, credit chit 
numbers, names and addresses of relatives of the individuals cataloged, 
extremely detailed information, such as addresses of elementary schools and 
family schedules. Havah realized with a chill that this was data on the 
PresidentÕs secret service detail, the officersÕ personnel files, and far beyond 
that, the minutia of their most private lives, something no one should have had 
access to. SantiagoÕs security had been compromised on the most basic level. 
Finally, there was a purchase order for a set of triangulation devices. The buyer 
was Future Corp. Hands scrambling to secure the data before it disappeared 
in a burst of flame, Havah made three more copies of the data crystal. This was 
going to get off-world. If she had her way, it was going to blast from very com-
port across the galaxy, after she made sure that Sinclair got the data first. 

* * * * * * * * 

After joining the Nightwatch, it was not difficult for Havah to come up with 
justification for sending her to the international Emergency Management and 
Biodefense Conference to be held on Babylon 5 in a couple of weeks. It would 
even have been possible for her to justify a trip to Minbar, to Ôkeep an eyeÕ on 
her old supervisor, Sinclair, but given JensenÕs recent eleventh hour 
companions, Havah couldnÕt risk even mentioning Minbar. She would just have 
to take a few days before the conference and get away for a while.

* * * * * * * * 

She dashed up the trail to the compound, nearly knocking down a trainee in her 
path. She righted the stammering young Minbari woman, and apologized to the 
cadet who had recognized her and was trying, haltingly, to salute Havah. Then 
she pelted away again into SinclairÕs office, put the crystal on the table, and 
leaned forward. "This is it, sir! We can nail him!"

He put it into the port and viewed in silence. The silence lengthened after he 
finished scrolling. He sighed from the deepest part of his soul, and stared at a 
blank screen for another moment before saying some of the hardest words in 
his life. "No. We canÕt, not yet."

Havah stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it a moment to clear out the wax 
that must have been blocking her hearing. "What? Sir?"

"We canÕt use this yet. I knew the Shadows were involved butÉThink. If we 
expose Clark now, like this, the Shadows will know they have been discovered, 
at least to a greater degree than we can afford right now. It will have to wait."

It was the same story that had kept the information from GÕKar, except now it 
was her world, their world that was being sold. "ButÉbutÉwaitÉhow long?"

"I donÕt know, until we have more of a force against them. Right now, we donÕt 
stand a chanceÑ"

She knew she was being insubordinate by interrupting him, her Minbari Anla 
Shok instructors would have been appalled, but she couldnÕt hold in her 
outburst. "But, Clark killed the PresidentÉSir! HeÕs a murderer, thereÕs a 
conspiracy, heÉtheyÑ"

"I know, Havah, but thatÕs the point. The conspirators are in too deep and you 
have to look at the big picture! I knowÑ"

"NO! NO, Sir?! ItÕs Earth, we canÕt justÉwe canÕt just sell them down the river, 
we canÕt just let this go!" Her voice cracked into a breathy whisper.

"WeÕre not selling anyone down the river, but we have to lay low on this! We 
canÕt just go charging in! There is no other choice, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Havah looked down like a Minbari soldier addressing a superior officer, back 
rigid. "Yes, Entilzah Sinclair! I understand."

"Dammit, Havah, look at me! DonÕt pull that Minbari crap on me now, weÕve 
known each other too long and too well to do this now!"

She looked at him with betrayed eyes. 

He flicked at a pile of papers on his desk disconsolately, and paced like a 
caged lion. "Do you think IÕm any happier about this than you? Do you think I like 
the idea of that Émegalomaniac in office, or those Shadows whispering in his 
ear? You know better than that! But we wonÕt help Earth at all if we act on this 
now! We will in fact destroy our chances of ever being rid of Clark, those in 
league with him, or the Shadows. You know it, youÕre too smart not to know it!" 
He came to stand directly in front of her and looked down into her face. "We 
WILL be ready, and we will beat them and take our world back. We will. I give 
you my word that the time will come and we will fight this, no matter what it 
takes."

She met his earnest gaze and nodded numbly. "Yes, sir." 

He put his hands on her arms, and looked at her a moment, and then let them 
drop. "This isnÕt for nothing. The more data we collect, the more prepared we 
will be to deal with them. This information youÕve given me is just the kind of 
thing we need to know."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"

He exhaled heavily. "No, not for now. I need you to return and keep gathering 
this information if you can. How did you get it?"

"Apparently, I have a friend in high places. His name is William Byron. HeÕs a 
Lieutenant Commander. He says that he saw me on Proxima Three. Same guy 
that gave me the crystal with ClarkÕs little hospital trip."

He nodded. "I remember him. He was really bucking for a posting to the 
Babylon Project. He was supposed to be assigned, but then the station blew 
up, and he was posted to Earth Central. By the time it was rebuilt, they must 
have been looking at other people."

"He doesnÕt seem to like Clark much, or whatÕs happening on Earth, although I 
donÕt know how much he knows. He said he joined the Nightwatch for the 
same reason I did. By the way, I joined the Nightwatch. ItÕs the Ministry of 
PeaceÕs new watchdog organization. I figured it was the best way to stay out 
from under their scrutiny, and get access to more closely guarded information."

"I agree. I donÕt need to tell you to watch your heels in the viperÕs den."

"No sir."

* * * * * * * * 

 The back path down the mountain was deserted, and Havah walked for 
solitude. She didnÕt get it. A silhouette slid onto the path in front of her, and 
there was Felshenn, like a bony Doberman, asserting his territory.

"DonÕt you have a home?" She said acerbically.

He completely ignored her dig. "I did not expect you to keep your word and 
return for training."

"I didnÕt. I came to give Entilzah Sinclair some more information. And now IÕm 
going back to Earth."

"You told Satai Neroon that you would undergo training when you returned to 
Minbar!"

Here we go again. "No, I didnÕt. I said that I would come back for training when I 
had time. I donÕt right now."

"But you have time to take a stroll across the mountain."

"I wanted to think. Look, we have bigger problems right now than my manners!"

"You mean Earth has bigger problems. What a surprise! Who did you Humans 
tempt into annihilating you now?"

She clenched her fists, nearly bit a hole in her cheek and stalked past him. But 
he reached out and grabbed her arm. "You donÕt walk awayÑ"

That was all she needed. She twisted her wrist around, hooking his arm and 
locking out his elbow, wanting desperately to hear it snap. But he was lithe and 
rolled out of it. Before he could get his bearings, she snap-kicked at his groin. 
He caught her foot and twisted her leg. She dropped to relieve the pressure 
and roll out of it, catching him across the neck with her other shin in a leg 
scissors that took him to the ground more gracefully than she would have liked. 
As fast as she was, he was slightly faster for the moment, and before she 
could press her advantage, he tossed her, like a bag of dry leaves, as she 
rolled over him, aiming a knife-hand at his throat. She didnÕt land as easily as 
he threw her. Her back whumphed into a tree trunk, expelling her breath in a 
jolt.  Shaking it off, she lunged again, faking with a reverse punch to the left side 
of his face, then twisting on the inside and catching him with a right elbow, 
except that she also caught bone, and slowed to nurse the split skin. In an 
instant, he recovered and came back with his own elbow-backfist, which she 
ducked, and there followed a short flurry of strikes and blocks, until he tried to 
sweep her. Rather than trying to reverse the sweep, she grabbed the sides of 
his overcoat and pulled him down with her, planting her feet into his stomach, 
trying to launch him as far into orbit as she could. But he grabbed hold of her, 
and, careless of the incline, they went tumbling over rocks, twigs, and brambles 
down the slope. They thudded to rest against another giant trunk. Before she 
could scramble up, he pinned her in a snare of long sinewy arms and legs, like 
thick creeper vines. She struggled, trying to claw at his eyes, trying to wrap her 
leg up around his chest to bend him back over his own knees, but he was too 
strong. He lay atop her and suddenly amidst the waste of energy she was 
expending, she felt a tremor and heard a rumble. That bastard was laughing! 
That made her angrier and she growled and strained against him, but couldnÕt 
budge him. All she could do was feel his body heave in his own personal 
moment of hilarity. He put his mouth near her ear, and in the most infuriatingly 
scathing voice he whispered, "I would have thought you could fight better than 
that, Changling. They did train you to be an alyt of the Anla Shok after all! But of 
course, their training can only live up to the quality of the material, and you are 
only Human!" And then he let her go, and shoved away before she could 
retaliate. 

"You can shove your denn bok right up your rump! Oh, thatÕs right, thereÕs one 
wedged in there already, all the way up to your pinched pointy rat nose!"

His smile faltered. He didnÕt know what a ÔratÕ was, but it sounded foul. 

She lunged again and away they went: attack, deflect, counter-attack, recover. It 
could have gone on ten minutes or ten hours. She winded him with a 
devastating side-thrust to the solar plexus, which he realized would have 
dropped many of the other soldiers he knew. How had he left that open, he 
wondered as he gagged. As she came in and feinted another kick to his groin 
and followed with an uppercut to his jaw, he side-stepped drunkenly, grabbed 
her arm and shoulder and tried to plant her face-first into a rock-face. She 
whirled, folding the arm and caught him in the jaw with an elbow to the neck, 
levering him into the rock instead. They both slid down the stone face into the 
burm and sat in the dirt, panting and staring at each other. After a few minutes, 
his smirk turned into a chuckle. Havah just glared. 

He knew that look. She had the defeated look of a child who suddenly learns 
that the world isnÕt the way she was taught it should be. The grief of betrayal 
was outlined in the set of her mouth. 

What do you have when your society becomes a different entity than the one 
you swore to protect? I know that well. The warrior caste does. "Your 
governmentÉthings are very bad?" He eyed her coolly, as he stripped pieces of 
grass, but his voice was solicitous.

Havah looked down, picking at a twig, and then nodded slightly. "Yeah." Their 
eyes met.

"I am sorry." He said softly, rose and left her to her thoughts.

* * * * * * * * 

Havah met the troops of new cadets who were being trained at the central 
facility, and met with the recent graduates, who were yet to be assigned. 
Despite SinclairÕs efforts, they all, even the Humans, now affected the Minbari 
protocol of looking down when addressed by or speaking to Sinclair and her, 
as senior officers. But it was an indication that the Anla Shok had become a 
significant establishment once again. Reports were in from the other training 
facilities. There was a burgeoning matter of concern at Zagros Seven. The 
camp was hosted by a Drazi colony, but they had been harried recently by the 
presence of Centauri war ships encroaching and claiming to provide a 
Ôstabilizing presenceÕ for the area. The colony was agricultural. What was there 
to stabilize?

Havah asked. "Do you want me to pay a visit there on my way back?"

"No, this report is pretty thorough. I just want everyone out of there. WeÕll move 
the site. This is no longer a good position for the camp. The instructors can see 
to the relocation. For now they can return to Minbar, until a new camp can be set 
up. ThatÕll take some time. Since youÕre stopping at Babylon 5, you can start 
scouting out new locations with ambassadors in different areas."

"Will do."

"Before you leave, remember, I told you that Delenn commissioned work on a 
new project. The prototype is almost complete. You should see it and become 
familiar with it. This will cheer us both up."

Havah smiled and followed him to a waiting shuttle-craft. It took them to a dry-
dock in orbit. At the dock, a ship was moored like no other ship Havah had ever 
seen. It had the tapered curves of a Minbari ship, and a skin that was 
reminiscent of Vorlon technology. A hybrid. The design was completely new, 
more air than ship. The hatch whispered open and they entered a space that 
was impossibly larger than it had looked from the outside. The bridge was as 
roomy and light as the hallway had been, and the Religious caste crew-
members manning the controls snapped to attention as they entered. Havah 
stared at the controls. They were so sensitive that they responded to the 
electromagnetic force of the hand held above the diodes. She would have to 
review the specs because this ship was fueled and assembled with 
technology she had never seen before. 

Sinclair, who had been peering in happy wonder around him, watched the 
reaction on her face. Except it was not Havah he saw. A young Minbari woman 
stood in reverie, and then turned to him. She looked down as was customary, 
but he knew her face. She looked just like Havah, but different, there was 
something not-Havah in her face, aside from the structural changes of a full-
blooded Minbari. And he knew this woman, aside from her resemblance to 
Havah. Recognition eluded him. He passed his hand over his tired eyes and 
through his hair, and Havah was back. After this briefing, it was time to get 
some sleep.

* * * * * * * *  

This technology was amazing! It was built to be both a long-range war-ship, 
and a fighter-ship with more accuracy and maneuverability than the mammoth 
cruisers. With a fleet of these, they would have a spitting chance. Havah turned 
to Sinclair to ask if she could take her for a spin, and halted. An older Minbari 
male faced her whom Havah now recognized as the Valen from her dreams. 
He was not a specter. She could have reached out and touched him. He looked 
like Sinclair. Before she could ask what he was doing here, the ship morphed 
and closed in around her. She could feel it encapsulate her skin, singing to her. 
She could feel Valen and the others as the ship moved through space towards 
a moon that she now knew as FaliÔshar, Shelter Peace Planet. She couldnÕt 
see the moon but she knew it was there. They docked and as the ship melted 
away again, leaving her and nine others including Valen, they faced a being that 
looked to Havah like an angel. ÔWhat is an angel?Õ, something in her thought. 

And then the light emitted by the being blurred, and Havah was staring at the 
glow of the diodes under the careful hands of a crewman. He was looking at 
her strangely from under his eyelashes, not wanting to be disrespectful by 
looking at her directly. Sinclair was speaking.

"Havah? What do you think?" 

About the ship, or about what just happened? "ItÕsÉitÕs awesome! Can we take 
her out for a test drive?"

"Unfortunately, not yet. The engineers are keeping her until they finish 
perfecting a couple of the specs. I already tried wheedling them into one run, 
but they wonÕt budge. So weÕll just have to be patient until they are done. ItÕs 
good to know that they are being perfectionists about it, though. WeÕll need 
these ships to be as close to flawless as possible. I have a feeling the design 
will be tested far beyond its limits. YouÕll be given training on them the next time 
youÕre back, including shooting solutions with a crew, and with a fleet, provided 
the rest of the ships are completed."

"Yes, sir!"

Havah left in good spirits, but troubled by the daydream. It was intruding into her 
waking life now, almost as though the two worlds were beginning to blend and 
run over each other, and she was living as much in the dream reality as she 
was in the here and now. Maybe it was a good thing for this strangeness to 
creep into her conscious mind. Then she could see where it led, and get rid of 
it.

* * * * * * * * 

Babylon 5 was crawling with Nightwatch personnel. Every time she turned 
around, she felt the ugly murmur of the legal rumor mill. And worse, while on 
the trip to Minbar, Earth had taken a stance concerning the Centauri-Narn 
conflict, and was supporting the Centauri! The wheel of galactic history was 
back where it had begun for the thousandth time, and no one had figured out 
that they were going in circles. As she arranged to meet with the ambassadors 
from the League of Non-Aligned worlds, she encountered both GÕKar and 
Mollari. GÕKar was a changed man. The crags in his face were deeper, riddled 
with sadness and inevitability, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. It was the 
same look worn by most of the Narns on the station. Some were refugees. 
These were the quietest, with hollow hunted eyes. Others had residence on the 
station, and hadnÕt borne the full brunt of the atrocities being enacted against 
their home-world, so they had the luxury of belligerence and vocal indignation. It 
must have been contagious, because HavahÕs chest knotted with the same 
anger every time she saw a displaced or injured Narn wander by, as furious 
with her own world for supporting this as she was with the Centauri for causing 
it. Humans recognized the look of the hunted. WeÕve been there, only twelve 
years ago! Are our memories that short?! I remember when we were asking for 
help from everyone, and no one would help usÉexcept the Narns! I was a 
senior in high school. It was like yesterday! She wanted to spit at Mollari when 
passing him in the hall, until she saw his eyes. His face maintained a taut 
hauteur at all times, like a mask, but his eyes were as haunted as GÕKarÕs, and 
by something as dark and terrible as the shadow of Centauri slavery and ethnic 
cleansing. He didnÕt want this. Earth was not the only torn nation, they all were.

* * * * * * * * 

"I am sorry, but with things as they are, the Centauri are expanding, and we just 
cannot risk attracting any attention. IÕm afraid we cannot offer this territory for 
use to your organization at this time, for any price. Perhaps in a few months." 
Such was the Brakiri answer, and the Vreen, and all of the other non-aligned 
worlds. No dice on finding an alternate site for a camp. People were too 
scared. 

* * * * * * * * 

She hunkered in the rear of the Nightwatch meeting, hoping Mr. Welles, who 
had floated like rubbish out to this part of the galaxy, wouldnÕt see her and pin 
her for a report. Several of GaribaldiÕs people were there, including Zack Allen. 
That surprised Havah at first, until Welles started pressing him for information 
about an unfortunately opinionated shopkeeper. Zack stammered and 
hemmed, like a man realizing too late that he had sat on a black widow egg 
sac, and it had hatched, as WellesÕ hands snaked over his shoulders. 

"All we are asking is for you to confirm that he made these statements, nothing 
moreÉ"

Havah watched the bizarre hallucination as the black widow babies were 
picking through ZackÕs hair, skittering over his arms and legs.

"HeÕs just a shopkeeper, he doesnÕt mean anything. HeÕs a good guy, I 
meanÑ"

"We are not asking you do anything or to badmouth him, just a confirmation. 
Did you or did you not hear him making these statements?"

"Yeah, I guess." They stuck to his face and uniform like black confetti. He 
looked sick, as Welles kept talking. She imagined the parents of the arachnids 
crowding in on either side of Morden, simpering mortuary arias with tar-candy 
breath.

"There you see. ThatÕs not so badÉ" Havah didnÕt hear the rest, and Zack didnÕt 
smile. He responded as much as he had to, but he knew something was 
wrong now. HavahÕs daydream dissolved as the meeting ended, and if Welles 
had seen her, he hadnÕt singled her out.

* * * * * * * * 

The garden was packed. Dozens of people had gathered to hear the speech 
about to be given by Sheridan. It was reputed to be an apology to the Centauri 
for harboring a crippled Narn cruiser. However, knowing Sheridan as people on 
the station were coming to, about half of them had gathered to hear him 
actually apologize, and the other half had gathered to see what he was really 
likely to do, which was to tell the Centauri, masked in polite beg-your-pardons, 
to kiss his aft-deck. Which was also what most of the people there, Centauri 
excluded, really wanted to hear. Most of the Humans, the Minbari, and various 
peoples from the non-aligned worlds had been appalled at the use of mass 
drivers against Narn, whether their governments had the balls to back them up 
or not. So when the Centauri ambassador arrived, he was given a wide berth. 
People murmured in tight groups and cast catty glances at the morose man. 
Isolated, he pretended not to notice. Havah almost felt sorry for him. 

"Do you believe this horse-honkey?!" John Kellerman, one of her old co-
workers sidled up. "Hiya Havah! Long time no see! How ya been?"

"Hey! Yeah, pretty good. HowÕve you been?"

"Not bad, not bad, never mind all the political garbage goinÕ on." Then he 
noticed the armband. "Oh, no. Tell me you didnÕt."

"ItÕs not what you think."

"Maybe itÕs not what you think. ThatÕs not like you at all, you were always such a 
hippie. Besides, I thought you were on Minbar."

"I was. Then I went to work at Earth Gov Central office, for the EA Emergency 
Management Agency. My supervisor there thought I should join the Nightwatch 
to facilitate interagency cooperation."

"Well, so what happened to your position on Minbar? What about Sinclair?"

Havah had prepared for moments like this, inevitable questions from friends. 
But no matter how much preparation she had spent, she still felt flat-footed 
trying to answer. "I still have contact with him." She practiced the ÔGrey Council 
silenceÕ as she had come to think of it, the quiet closing of conversation beyond 
any further pursuit.

"OhÉwell, donÕt turn right-wing wacko on us now. What do you think about all 
this?" He asked cautiously, eyeing the band.

"John, IÕm the same person I was when I left. I think itÕs a load of bull! The use 
of mass drivers violated all Weapons of Mass Destruction treaties everywhere, 
and Earth Gov is nuts to tiptoe around this. Sheridan did what he had to do. 
That ship had nowhere else to go, they were refugees. Earth Gov is up in arms 
because his actions didnÕt meet the current political agenda. ThatÕs what this is 
about. ItÕs gotten bad back home."

"Yeah, I heard. The backwash is starting to ooze its way out here too."

Havah sighed.

He spoke again, looking for answers. "What is it really like, at Earth Central?"

Havah just shook her head, and then held his eyes with a penetrating gaze. "IÕll 
give you a piece of advice. DonÕt openly criticize the current administration, 
except with people you trust. Especially around anyone wearing this band or 
symbol." She tugged at it. 

He nodded. "ThatÕs what I thought."

"So howÕs Carmen? I stopped in but she wasnÕt there. HowÕre the outbreaks? 
Anything interesting?"

"The usual suspects: salmonella, shigella, ecoli, influenza, hep A. The station 
finally closed down that place in Down Below, the one that had the great 
hamburgers, that we always said were really the voles they trapped. Well, they 
had another ecoli outbreak and didnÕt meet the corrections specified by the 
health officer."

"So, no more vole-burgers?"

"No. Vole burgers are off the menu for Babylon 5. No more playing Russian 
roulette with peopleÕs gastrointestinal tracts. Sorry, I know you liked them."

"What about the place near there, that served the roach fritters or whatever the 
hell it was that always seemed to fall into those things?"

"TheyÕre still open."

"AhÉthatÕs comforting."

An explosion tore through a tram high up near the core, and a tiny dot was 
falling. Mutters raced through the crowd as quickly as the explosion. It was 
Sheridan. Minutes passed and there was no rescue, no time. The critical 
moment at which any Earth Force equipment could have helped him came and 
went, and he plummeted, from a speck to a doll-like figure. Then a bright pulse 
of light streamed from the crowd and rose into the air. It was a malach, an 
angel. NoÉa Minbari figure clothed in light, ValeriaÉthe figure kept shifting 
faces in front of Havah. Well, malachim were supposed to have many faces, 
many eyes, many forms. They were shape-shifters, adjusting their form to the 
Human, or Minbari ability to perceive them. Who knew what they really looked 
like? Havah wanted to fall to her knees, or remove her shoes, like the stories 
she had read about peopleÕs encounters with angels in the Torah. Remove 
your shoes, for you are on holy ground, she remembered. Never bow to me, I 
am not the Almighty, only a messenger, she remembered. And as she watched 
she remembered something else. She had seen this angel before, or a 
creature just like it. It was the Kosh from her dream. As she watched, Kosh 
drifted up and met Sheridan and floated back to ground. Sheridan was 
thunderstruck. He addressed Kosh respectfully and gratefully, and the malach 
nodded. His eyes emanated the sadness that Havah remembered from the 
dream. It had been himÉa thousand years ago on a hidden moon. 

There was no question now in HavahÕs mind that she was living in a haunted 
house, and that she shared a body with something else, another personality. 
One that remembered a war Havah had never seen, eight hundred years 
before HavahÕs motherÕs people ever reached the stars. The Minbari Grey 
Council could believe what they liked about the origin of her own soul, but to 
Havah, this other presence, the one to whom the dreams were attached was a 
dybbuk, an intruder, a lost soul. No wonder that Centauri woman had called 
her that, and the Minbari warriors called her a changeling. She was, or at least 
they had sensed something in her that was. She stared and stared, long after 
Kosh had vanished into his suit again, and the room was a-whisper with what 
everyone had seen. Angels are real. After all this time. She thought. Angels are 
realÉand so are demons.

"Havah! Did you see that!"

"Yes. I saw."

"Amazing! Hey, are you alright?"

"No."

John peered at her, and clapped her on the shoulder. "I understand."

I doubt it, but thank you. She smiled and slipped away to her quarters.

* * * * * * * * 
  
As Havah wound her way through the station, she passed Anla Shok she had 
seen trained. They nodded to her. If any noticed the armband, they expressed 
nothing. She contacted Delenn to notify her of recent developments on Earth, 
and be brought up to date concerning the situation on the station. 

Delenn said, pouring a cup of tea, "I have given partial command of the Anla 
Shok to Captain Sheridan."

"So he knows about us? Does he know about the Shadows?"

"We have been preparing him." 

"Then you trust him."

"I believe he will prove powerful in the coming war. Kosh has shown him the 
past, and he has demonstrated a desire to join our efforts. He lost his wife to 
the Shadows."

"When? I thought they were just re-appearing?"

"She was aboard the same expedition as Mr. Morden."

"Oh. Wow, itÕs a small galaxy. Is it possible that she could have survived as 
Morden did?"

"It is possible, but she would be as he now is. She would no longer be the 
person he knew and loved. If she survived, it will only be to serve them. They 
will have twisted her to suit their purposes."

"But would that be permanent? I mean, what if she were found, could she be 
deprogrammed or something? I mean, do you or Kosh think that people can 
return from that sort of thing eventually?"

"There has been no indication that anyone has ever succeeded in such a 
return."

"But that doesnÕt mean it couldnÕt happen, just that they havenÕt yet." It was 
strange, now that Delenn had mentioned SheridanÕs wife, someone who had 
been connected to a network of people that mourned her, Havah wondered 
about Morden. Who had he been before he becameÉwellÉthe Antichrist? The 
word just popped in there, and thatÕs when Havah realized how polarized this 
conflict had become, how polarized all of their thinking had become, without 
even being aware of it. Here were these mysterious beings, looking to everyone 
who saw them, like angels or some other cultural equivalent, and on the 
opposite end were these other beings who matched every cultural description 
of demons. How Zoroastrian, with beings of light fighting the forces of darkness 
for dominance over the galaxy across thousands of years, before any of the 
younger races, even the Minbari, had ever existed. What had caused this 
conflict to start? That was one of SinclairÕs original questions. Were they any 
closer to an answer than when they started this preparation? 

The door chimed, it was Sheridan. He glanced at the armband and 
straightened stiffly. Delenn immediately corrected him.

"Captain Sheridan. You were introduced earlier to the Anla Shok aboard the 
station. This is Anlashok Na Lassee. She is in charge of the Anla Shok in 
EarthÕs sector, and also acts as an executive officer for the Entilzah, 
headquartered on Minbar. You did not meet her earlier because she has been 
stationed on EarthÉamong the Nightwatch." Delenn glanced at the band, 
surmising quickly what had occurred, since Havah had not gotten a chance to 
brief her yet.

Havah bowed slightly to Sheridan.

He nodded. "LasseeÉHavah Lassee?"

"Yes, sir."

"So whatÕs the news from Earth?"

"ThereÕs quite a bit. As youÕve already learned, the Ministry of Peace and the 
Nightwatch are calling the shots politically. They have authorization to delve into 
any private records, and their targets appear to be the politically and socially 
disenfranchised, and anyone whom they perceive to be a threat, but theyÕre not 
targeting anyone big yet. You were the first person in a position of authority that 
IÕve seen them go after."

"Wonderful."

"I also have information about Clark, and about a man named Morden."

"I questioned him here."

"Well, he and Clark are linked. He was involved with the formation of a draft 
detailing everything that the administration is now instituting, right down to the 
use of the Nightwatch. He was on the board of an organization called Future 
Corporation, which purchased triangulation devices of the same type Garibaldi 
found, but a couple months before the assassination. As you must know by 
now, it was an assassination."

"Yes. ClarkÕs physician fled here with information demonstrating that there was 
nothing physically wrong with Clark when he left Earth Force One, claiming to 
be sick. Kosh helped to hide the man, when the feds came looking for him."

"Is he still here?"

"No, and we handed the data over to a woman who said that she was part of a 
resistance movement."

Havah thought for a moment. That was certainly possible. She had gotten data 
from one such individual already. "There is a resistance movement, but it 
doesnÕt appear to be well organized yet. ItÕs hard to identify these people, with 
things as they are back home. People are scared."

"ItÕll only get harder."

"ThatÕs true. The Shadows have been involved too, theyÕre the ones pulling the 
puppet strings really." She filled him in on the conversation between Morden 
and Jensen, and her findings concerning the Markab plague, and the first 
phase of vaccinations for ÔGrey Wind FeverÕ.

"I think thatÕs a sound assumption. You said that Morden is never alone." He 
turned to Delenn, and then to her, and said curtly. "Thank you, Anlashok 
Lassee."

Delenn nodded, still looking shell-shocked about the origins of the Markab 
plague. She had not expected such atrocity so soon. The Shadows had been a 
daunting enemy in the last war, and it was clear that their ideas of civilization 
and honor did not match those of the Minbari, but this went beyond even the 
most marginal concept of fair play.

* * * * * * * * 

Havah returned to her quarters, and began searching the computer files on the 
mythology of different races and different cultures. She knew of many Earth 
pantheons, but how well did they coordinate with those of other races? Could 
we all have had contact with these beings before space flight? Have we been 
influenced in earlier history, and if so, for how long? Of Earth legends, she 
found the Persian Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu, the opposing forces. Coyote 
the trickster tripped through Navajo tales, as Loki did through the Norse. In the 
Torah, were accounts of ha-shatan, the adversary angel, created by God to act 
as a prosecuting attorney and challenge man, in order to inspire growth. 
Among the legends of other races she found the Kal Ôtot of the Minbari, the 
changelings sent among the Minbari people to lead to their annihilation, beings 
driven by Zhal ÔAn, the destructive principle of Dol ÔAn, as antimatter to matter. 
Numerous Centauri gods of strife marched, blasted, and poisoned their way 
into the stories she encountered, although many of these tales appeared to 
revolve around the detriment of forsaking tradition. That appeared to be how 
many of the researched cultures dealt with the various forces of chaos, by 
building a wall of ritual. The Book of GÕquon had made mention of forces 
matching the description of the Shadows a thousand years ago, which had 
been incorporated into their myth cycles. But since it was considered 
disrespectful for the book to be read in anything other than the original Narn, 
and since it was an ancient dialect that had to be replicated word-for-word on 
only the most perfect of parchment, it didnÕt lend itself well to electronic storage, 
and Havah could not find it among the archives. But many of these characters 
of chaos did not correspond to the polarization of evil and good that appeared 
to be forming between the Shadows and the Vorlons. If these stories were 
roundabout attempts to describe actual contact situations, then maybe the 
answer of motive was already there, in the stories. Some acted as agents of 
chaos, some represented true evil, but others represented a strange 
guardianship, the givers of painful but necessary lessons. What was the real 
nature of the relationship between these Shadows, and the mysterious Vorlon 
allies of the younger races? 


The door chimed and Havah unglued her bleary eyes from the screen. She 
opened the door and Birin poked her head in. Havah had lost track of BirinÕs 
posting here. The Minbari gave Havah a hearty hug, in fact, came as close to 
tackling Havah as the genteel Religious Caste woman ever would. Birin stood 
back. "Havah, it has been too long! How are you?ÉYou lookÉAre you alright?"

"Yeah, IÕm fine. HowÕs it going? How are you and Trel?"

She beamed. "HeÉwe are well. We have gone through the second of the 
ceremonies for joining. Part of my family agreed to it and conducted the 
ceremony. The others were angry when they found out, but it is too late now. So 
they had to accept it. They will come around."

"Boy, youÕre getting pretty sly. What about his family?"

"They were concerned more about getting along with my family, than about our 
joining specifically, but they seem to be going along with it. His father was 
afraid though, that too much contact with the Religious caste will make Trel 
impractical and dreamy." She laughed, "But then his mother asked how that 
was different than the way he was before we met."

"Good point. He is a bit of a space cadet, no offense to the Religious caste."

"Of course he is a space cadet, he is Anla Shok, but he has passed from being 
a cadet months ago."

"IÉ" Havah shook her head and snickered. "ThatÕs an expression for someone 
whoÕs not all there, you know, two cans short of a six-pack, a squirrel short of a 
picnic, elevator doesnÕt go to the top floor?É"

BirinÕs eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! Of course! You mean, he is crazy!"

"Yeah."

Birin grinned. 

Wow, Havah had missed her. 

And Bir had missed the intense Human, with her colorful colloquialisms, 
especially the ones that irritated the more stodgy members of the Minbari. What 
an education she had gotten! Her friend looked worn though, no surprise 
considering where she had been. "Havah, are you really alright?" Birin knew 
that it was rude to ask such a question a second time, but HavahÕs appearance 
was marked with exhaustion. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her 
face was shades paler than it should have been considering her olive 
complexion. 

Havah really didnÕt want to talk about work. "Yeah, IÕve just been thinking too 
hard about a lot of things."

Birin sat quietly. "About your father?"

That was a pretty good guess. "Yeah, I guess. IÕm going back for training soon. 
I was really surprised that he wanted that. I thought heÕd rather bury me in the 
backyard somewhere."

"The Warrior caste makes sure to watch over their own, or at least anyone who 
could eventually lead back to them. And Satai Neroon is one of the most 
traditional Minbari I have seen. He believes in the old ways. He is also a father 
figure to many, even if he does not know yet how to be a father. The instinct is in 
him. I know that you have your differences, and that my caste has their 
differences with him, but he is a good man at heart. He was just raised to be a 
warrior and nothing else. Had he been born into another caste, and given 
training, he might have made a good priest. I think that Shai Alyt Branmer was 
trying to influence him and give him a more thoughtful side. And if his fondness 
for the Shai Alyt was any indication, then it was beginning to work."

"Geez, so his death was even worse for Neroon than we thought."

Birin nodded, and cocked her head. There was more in this woman than the 
recent struggles with her father, or even with her home-world. She just waited.

HavahÕs thoughts drifted from her father to the other scruples that she had 
never shared with her Minbari compatriot. Why? Because she was Religious 
caste, and she might interpret HavahÕs dilemma the wrong way. What was the 
wrong way? Havah didnÕt even know herself what caused the dreams. "IÕve 
been having trouble sleeping. Well, lately IÕve been having trouble awake. I 
keep daydreaming, except theyÕre more intense than normal dreams."

"About what?"

Havah let out a heavy breath. "About a woman named Turanni, about her life, 
her kid, her marriage, her choices."

"Yes. The chosen of Valen." She seemed unsurprised. "It is known to most of 
us now that you have a Minbari soul, someone interesting even among the 
Minbari."

Havah balked. "No, I donÕt mean that. I donÕt think itÕs that, I mean I donÕt think it 
works quite that wayÉSheÕs in my head, but I donÕt think sheÕs part of me. I 
mean I donÕt think I have her soul, I think sheÕs borrowing space in my head."

Bir just looked confused. "I do not see how that is possible. How can she be in 
your head, inside you, without being part of you?"

"HavenÕt you ever heard of possession? IsnÕt there some Minbari equivalent? 
What about the changelings?"

"No!" Bir gasped. "I mean, of course the changelings look Minbari, but they are 
not. That is different. Their souls are alien. The horror of the Kal Ôtot is in what 
they appear to be but arenÕt. Turanni could never be such a soul. She was 
Minbari when she lived."

"I wasnÕt trying to insult her or anything, I justÉokÉHow do the Kal Ôtot take their 
forms, donÕt they borrow Minbari bodies?"

"They can, I suppose, but it is just not the same. You are saying that because 
you are Human, you do not think that she could be born of a Human? Valen 
was a Minbari not born of Minbari."

"And what did your people think about him at first? DidnÕt they think he was a 
changeling for a while? I read that he did experience resistance, and that his 
children experienced some persecution because of this perception."

"Yes, that is true. His path was not an easy one. I do not know, Havah, I can only 
tell you what I believe. You must come to your own conclusions. Can you tell 
me about them, about the visions? When did they start?"

"When I was a kid. I donÕt remember how old I was exactly, only that I woke up 
screaming a few times because of dreams about these Shadows. My mom 
used to despair that they were never going to get any sleep again. I drew 
pictures of Minbari war cruisers, the real old ones, when I was in kindergarten. 
And these images have been getting stronger, more frequent, more insistent, 
like theyÕre pushing everything else out of my head. Now IÕm seeing things from 
her life when IÕm awake."

"Like what?"

"Like Ambassador Kosh, like the first Grey Council, like some refuge that they 
built on a moon that they hid from everyone, with the VorlonÕs aid. At first, all I 
saw was her death. I kept seeing her kid surrounded by Shadows, and felt her 
commit suicide, over and over, and over. And then, just when I thought I was 
going to go insane if I saw that one more time, I started seeing things from the 
rest of her life, mundane things, and other tragedies. I saw her father die in a 
battle between the Star Riders and the Wind Swords. I didnÕt even know who 
the clans were. I have enough of my own grief and my own problems, why am I 
carrying hers too?"

"Because she hasÉyouÉhave never let go of the past. There is something that 
remains for you to do here. You are needed here and now."

"But, if thatÕs true, why as a Human? Given how particular the Minbari are about 
foreigners."

"Why was Valen thought of as being a foreigner? Because that is exactly what 
we need. As a people we are too close to our own flaws and puzzles to see a 
solution sometimes. We require new points of view, people who, whether they 
are Minbari or not, do not always think like the status quo, even if we resist 
them. Valen created a paradigm shift, one that was partially subsumed again 
by tenacious traditions, some of which were no longer useful to us. His work 
was never finished, but weÕve been treating it as if it was. Maybe that is why you 
are here. Prophecy said that the two halves of the Minbari world soul would be 
re-united. Maybe the coming of Valen was when it split. I believe that is why 
Delenn chose to become part Human, to represent this re-union. And you, you 
also display this union in your own body, in your own genetics and your own 
soul, like Delenn, but unlike her, you have not accepted it yet. You still fight 
against it. You are still fighting the war in your own mind. Think. If your soul, 
yours and SinclairÕs and a number of others had not been what they were, we 
may have continued the war and destroyed the only people who may be able to 
help us now. Perhaps you are here to help finish what Valen started, the 
integration of new ideas."

"ThatÕs never finished. People are supposed to be fluid and changing."

"Yes! See, you understand this, but do you know how many of the Minbari do 
not? They remain stuck in a past that does not always serve them. That is why 
we are a fading people." 

Havah began to protest, but Birin held up her hand. "You do not have to say 
otherwise. I know it. The Grey Council cannot hide this from us. Many people 
feel it besides me. We are stagnating. That is why our warriors are restless, 
that is why our population rate is declining. We have reached a plateau, just as 
the Vorlons appear to have done, except that we have not attained their level of 
technology or enlightenment."

"DonÕt be so sure about that enlightenment part. The jury is still out on the 
Vorlons, and you seem to have found solutions to problems we havenÕt 
managed to solve yet."

"Have we? With what, our caste system? Every solution we have come up with 
has critical flaws. And your race is very young. You will find your solutions, 
perhaps quicker than we did, proportionally. You have tried a number of 
different solutions in a shorter period of time. Some of them were unmitigated 
disasters, but at least youÕve tried and learned."

"DonÕt be so sure about that either." Havah grimaced, thinking about the 
Nightwatch.

"Well, but we move more slowly, we insist on keeping things as they are until 
they explode. We wait until there is no choice but to change or self-destruct. 
Tradition is important, but it is not everything. There must be room for growth. I 
know that these dreams are a burden to you now, and I know that you do not 
believe. Everything in your experience tells you that this is unnatural, but I do 
believe that you are here for a reason. I have believed that since I met you that 
day in the mud, before I knew about your memories. That is what they are. You 
know that, donÕt you?"

Havah didnÕt answer. Birin put her hand on the distressed womanÕs arm. "This 
changes nothing between us, nothing in our interaction. I will still be arrested 
with you and getÉ stoned with you, on chocolate. I know that one of the things 
you are afraid of is that you will suddenly be treated differently, like a glass doll. 
But you are a friend, and it does not matter to me if you are Human or Minbari, 
or what your soul was in a past life. We are here now, and you are my friend. No 
matter what else you have to think about or wonder about, you do not have to 
wonder about that."

Havah put her hand on BirinÕs. "ThanksÉHey, speaking of chocolate, we 
should go get some food tomorrow, before I leave again for Earth. That place 
with the great burgers was closed due to a foodborne outbreak, but I know of 
another hole in the wall with great frittersÉjust donÕt analyze what might be in 
them."

Bir laughed. "Yes, that would be good, I would like to try this. The Humans 
would say that I have gotten an iron stomach since eating Human food."

"You might need it here."

* * * * * * * *

"Mr. Welles. Can I speak with you for a moment?" A young uniformed security 
officer stood solicitously outside the door of WellesÕ quarters. 

SheridanÕs ÔapologyÕ to the Centauri for interfering in Centauri affairs had not 
gone as planned, but since there was nothing left to do, he was preparing to 
return to Earth. "Yes, of course. By all means, come in." Welles gestured 
warmly. "And you are?"

"Sgt. Dylan Lancaster, sir." He fidgeted, not knowing how to start.

Welles brought him a drink of water. "Relax, there is nothing to be nervous 
about. Here we are, just two men having a simple conversation."

Dylan fidgeted some more and then spoke, looking down at his feet. "I saw the 
roster of attendees at the meeting and I noticed Havah LasseeÕs name. 
WellÉThereÕs something that you should know about her. I used to date her, 
soÉI donÕt want her to get in trouble or anything. I know she didnÕt want anyone 
finding outÉabout her father. But it might be important if he tries to manipulate 
her. You should know who he isÉwhat he is."