* * *

        <<ACT FOUR>

        Drakh battlegroup -- enroute in hyperspace.

        The atmosphere on the bridge of the Drakh warship *B'zlaan* would have been considered oppressive by humans, but by Drakh standards, it was anything but. The soldiers and bridge-personnel went about their tasks silently, while Vekh'shivalht A'aveilz reclined in his seat-of-command, a thoughtful frown on his face. The message he had been waiting for had arrived a short time ago -- La'skaa had sent back word that his wargroup was about to make the translation into the 'test area' ... the location of which had been revealed by the weak-willed human onboard the daggership... and that Palakz's 'adversary' had failed to make an appearance, as all had hoped would be the case.

        But then...

        "Vekh'shivalht," his Vaarliht, Resha'linn began, "The sensors are detecting a curious disturbance nearby."

        "Explain to me, you will, your definition of 'curious'." A'aveilz bluntly replied -- but then the Drakh warleader paused in consternation, as a familiar and most unwelcome sound filled his bridge... the alarm that warned of *Vorlon* technology being used nearby. And was this not the same alarm the Zha'vanare had heard during the assault at the human world...

        Sinzar...

        A'aveilz's eyes widened, and only then, at the end, did he understand. "Take evasive action!" he cried out. "This order, to all ships!"

        "Evasive action? I do not underst..." Resha'linn spent the final few seconds of his life observing an impossibility, as the *B'zlann*'s primary sensor suite faithfully reported that a point of stellar-hot plasma was forming above the Drakh battleline. And the final *two* of those seconds disbelievingly watching that point extend into a needle-like blade of fire -- a blade which rapidly sliced its way into his ship, and then suddenly moved towards the bow...

        The world became as fire -- and the two Drakh and their crew had not even time to speak another word as the focused plasma beam vaporized their bridge and ripped the ship asunder around them even as it began cutting into the hull of the nearest escort carrier. A few moments more, and explosions consumed both capital ships, throwing the rest of the formation into confusion, while flares of light along their bellies marked the deaths of numerous attackcraft, attacked by other 'unseen' foes.

        Many military leaders of the younger races had been placed in situations just like this one during the early phases of the Shadow War, their crews and ships assaulted by Shadow warships they could barely defeat or see. Since the end of that war, ISA historians had been fond of using the word 'panic' to describe the mindset of those crews... but the remaining Drakh leaders in A'veilz's battlegroup did not panic as of yet, did not, as yet, seek to flee. A few moments was all they needed to launch their remaining arrow-like attackcraft... and in short order, hyperspace around the carriers filled with blue fire.

* * *

        "Main gun recharged." Sheynell reported, as Dasouri arced the 'Shard' round to the far side of the Drakh battlegroup. "We're taking some minor strikes from their lighter ships, but nothing serious enough to pierce our darklight cloak."

        "None of them must escape," Julia whispered, as her Drazi helmsman brought the battlecruiser to bear on their next carrier target. "I swore to him that I would do my duty. Destroy them for me, Sheynell -- destroy them *all*."

        The telepath frowned at the disquieting thoughts filling Julia's mind, and sighed regretfully -- several months before, she'd come to the conclusion that this was going to happen eventually. The rigours of this patrol were imposing strain on everyone... but her captain, as most of the senior crew had figured out by now, didn't *like* to admit, even to herself, that anything could crack her imperious 'touched by Vorlons' shell. Mission after mission, searching, guarding, destroying the enemies that threatened Alliance and race... something was bound to give eventually. And if this pace they were setting themselves didn't slacken soon, that 'something' was probably going to be her sanity "Target acquired -- firing *now*."

* * *

        The door slid open, and without preamble, Tirivail stepped into the chambers that belonged to the 'Stormwind's master. Rahkeel, she observed, was meditating... the more violent phases of her Alyt's practice session were long since concluded, of course. "Alyt," she began, "I would speak with you, if you are willing."

        Rahkeel nodded, even as he smoothly rose to his feet and opened his eyes, the meditation complete. "If I am willing? I have known you since before the war, Tirivail aveli'takier... seen your moods and felt your wrath, upon occasion. Let me observe in the here-and-now that you intend to speak your mind, whether I am willing to hear you or *not*."

        "Long you have been an ally of my family," she admitted, "But even though I know it is necessary, what we are doing disturbs me, Rahkeel! Now that we have captured the Drakh's servant, that soldier of darkness and his followers will inevitably seek us out."

        "And?"

        "Surely you do not intend an *alliance* with these creatures?" she erupted, her tone a mix of incredulity and outrage. "A race that served the Shadows in their time?"

        "An alliance, Tirivail?... fear not, even my soul is not dark enough to risk going that far, for down that road lies death... and worse. No, appearances to the contrary, the objective of this exercise is only to acquire *information*. We suspect that Tikopai and her Rangers have attacked the Drakh fleet... if this is handled properly, Islane Refa's 'master' may tell us exactly what we need to hear."

        "And what would you give the Drakh in return?" she challenged.

        "What it wants, of course." Rahkeel cunningly replied. "I propose to reveal to this Drakh certain... truths."

        "In the name of the Betrayer," she whispered, "You mean for the Drakh to do our work for us, don't you?"

        Rahkeel's eyes glittered cunningly as he drew on his tunic. "Hurt we have been by Sheridan, and insulted by the Anla'shok, Tirivail... did he truly believe we would forget this matter, that we would creep away like cowards, endure this stain upon our honor? Until justice is served, until those who have hurt us have been made to pay, we shall not rest -- and we *must* use every resource at our disposal to ensure that our enemies pay for their crimes.

        Including the Drakh."

        "It is a bold plan." she finally admitted. "And dangerous. We must be careful, Rahkeel -- for if things are not handled properly..."

        They both knew what the price of failure would be, with the stakes this high. Death, Tirivail somberly concluded, would probably be the *least* of their worries.

* * *

        The Drakh could not see them, and for that she was thankful, Klairika observed, as her fighter flashed along the belly of one of the two remaining Drakh capital ships, streaks of green fire flashing out from her weapons to shatter the mooring points for the Drakh attackcraft as she flew. That was one aspect of this attack which hadn't gone nearly as well as she'd been expecting. The Drakh warleaders had been very quick to respond to the Ranger attack, and even now, the battlezone was full of blue and green plasma discharges as the enemy pilots desperately tried to hit targets they could not see. A valiant attempt, to be sure... but ultimately a futile one.

        "Breaking off... *now*." the dry, always-in-control voice of Azhahk Fenric noted, and a moment later, she did the same, as the rest of the 'Shard's' fighters preformed the maneuver the humans referred to as 'fire-in-the-hole'... a reference that became most obvious a moment later as she watched the arcane Vorlon energies gather at the bow of her battlecruiser and a spear of white light impale the ship they'd just finished attacking, accompanied by multiple plasma bursts from its outboard turrets. A slight twist of Drazi hands, and the job was finished, as the remnants of the Drakh warship drifted away from one another. Only one left, now...

        "Look out!" Azhahk suddenly cried out, his voice more desperate then she'd ever heard, and Klairika blinked, coming back to the here-and-now just a moment too late, as her fighter flew squarely into a plasma barrage cast out by a full squadron of Drakh attackcraft. The crystal surface in front of her flared violet and then black as she raised her hands in front of her eyes and cried out. Oh Valen, *no*... it couldn't be!

        Her fighter shuddered... jerked alarmingly, and then began to spin, while something came flying up from behind and hit her from behind. A moment of pain -- a moment of light -- and then darkness fell.

* * *

        "Twenty percent damage to portside plasma cannons and engines..." Sheynell warned, as the 'Shard's' gravity field shivered briefly down to two thirds before returning to normal. "They may not be able to see us, Julia, but the Drakh are starting to figure out where we're *not*."

        "How do the fighters fare?" she asked, as Dasouri brought them around to draw a bead on the last Drakh carrier, while the anti-fighter turrets dealt out death on all sides.

        "Communication with Na'lai Alidiae and her squadron was interrupted a short time ago," Larieken reported, "Mr. Dawson is attempting to reroute the communications grid as we speak."

        "Fair enough," she ground out, as her ship bore down on its target. "We'll figure it all out once this is all over. Sheynell?"

        "Acknowledged." the telepath replied. "Main gun recharged, targeting solution locked in.

        Firing *now*."

* * *

        Even in the best of circumstances and with the bravest of individuals, death can become an overriding fear. Such was the emotion filling the mind of Vekh'shivalht La'skaa as he observed the enormous prow of the Earth Alliance destroyer 'Excalibur' rushing towards his ship. Everything had been going according to plan until this *Gideon* had done the unexpected -- was the human mad?

        "Engage jump engines!" he bellowed, and without pause, without question, the Drakh's loyal Z'shailyl helmsman responded as he had always done -- and La'skaa's command ship leapt through the jump-breach and into hyperspace. A moment more passed, a moment in which the Vekh'shivalht began to believe they had escaped from the enemy...

        And then fear became grim resignment, as La'skaa watched the daggership emerge out of the jump point that *he* had ordered opened. And he knew, even as that warship crossed fully into hyperspace, what would come next.

* * *

        Yet again they had prevailed... but as she cast a weary gaze across the debris field which had once been a Drakh battle squadron, Julia honestly wondered what the price of victory had been this time. The warning she had received before sending Klairika on her way had been clear enough, so the loss of communications they'd suffered during the battle hadn't really been that much of a surprise... more like fate casting its stones in an expected pattern. And even as Larieken sought to re-establish communication with their fighters, deep down inside, she knew what she was to going to hear. Didn't have to like it, but she knew, just the same.

        "Communication restored." the Minbari reported. "Val'na, Anla'shok Fenric is waiting on-channel to speak with you."

        "Mr. Fenric..." she began, "How fare you and your men?"

        There was a long pause. "All of us endured varying degrees of damage during the battle," the squadron leader finally admitted, "And under ordinary circumstances, it would take no more then six or seven minutes for us to rendezvous with you and yours..."

        "But these aren't ordinary circumstances." she replied, hating herself even as she said the words, "Are they?"

        "No." the fighter pilot replied, after another long pause. "They're not. I must... regretfully report that we lost contact with Na'lai Alidiae during the battle, Val'na. I would have your permission, if you are willing, to conduct a sweep of the debris field for her fighter. If all goes well and her craft is not... critically damaged, we may yet find her."

        Julia slumped in her chair, all the life going out of her, as all around her, the dark muttering began. She'd been *afraid* that this was going to be what the vision was about... hadn't wanted it to be, but just the same... "Make it so." she replied, her voice hollow.

        "If she's out there, Captain," Fenric promised, "We'll find her."

        "I know you will, Azhahk... I know you will. Good hunting." Lies... all lies, her Observer's side silently mocked, as she rose to her feet and cast a glance around at the rest of her crew... all silent, all shocked by the sudden, terrible news. "Larieken."

        "Val'na."

        "Stand us down from battle stations."

        "Aren't you forgetting something?" Sheynell snapped, her eyes sparkling with sudden anger. "There's another complete Drakh battlegroup bearing down on us, if I'm not mistaken!"

        "I'll think you'll find," she wearily replied, "That the rest of the Drakh have decided not to come to this party, Sheynell."

        It was at that moment that a signal came into Larieken's board, and the Minbari all but *jumped*, so shocked was he by her prediction... coming true? "That is... confirmed. A report has just arrived from an outlier sensor that indicates the third Drakh battlegroup has ceased its approach to the 'Excalibur'.

        This battle appears to be over. Standing down."

        "You knew..." Sheynell accused, "Even before *he* did."

        Julia nodded. "Sometimes seeing too much," she explained,

        Can be a curse all in itself."

* * *

        Darkness and light. Darkness and light.

        And then pain.

        Klairika cried out, as she arose towards full consciousness. Her fighter was spinning... what was left of her fighter, that was. "Computer," she whispered, "Our status?"

        "*This unit has drifted twelve thousand kilometres from disabling location*," the onboard computer reported. "Engines inoperative, emergency transmitter inoperative... warning, twenty minutes of air supply remaining."

        Twenty minutes? Klairika gazed out upon the emptiness of hyperspace, and began to shiver uncontrollably. This... this was impossible! The vision of the future she had been given during the Day of the Dead, the destiny revealed to her by her father -- there was still so much she hadn't done! Her service to the Anla'shok, it could not possibly be complete.

        And that was when she saw them -- tiny moving dots moving against the red and black backdrop... getting closer and closer. Her heart began to beat harder... thank Valen, Julia had sent searchers out to look for her. Just a little closer, she pleaded, I'm over *here*.

        Which was when she realized the forms she was seeing weren't fighters from the 'Shard' at all -- were quite a bit smaller then that, as a matter of fact. And after a few seconds more, those dots became shapes she recognized... shapes she had not thought to ever see again.

        *Vakar*, they were... Brakiri deep-space maneuvering armor. The Vakar were what her people used to build their space platforms, stations and warships... but no, how was this possible? What were her people doing out here? The only thing she could think of was...

        NO. That was not possible... how could *they* have known she would be here? She closed her eyes, refusing to see... but finally, the remants of her fighter shook, and she opened her eyes, to see the glittering black pupils of a Brakiri gazing down upon her from within his vakar. It was not possible... but it was the truth. They had found her, the raen-shahn! But how?

        With quiet precision, the raen-shahn hooked up an air supply to her cockpit even as the other hunters proceeded to cut away that cockpit from the rest of the fighter. There was nothing she could do to prevent this from happening... no way of escaping from them. And soon enough, the hunters had finished their task, and grasping the pincers of their suits tightly around her prison, away they flew with it, a weaving dance upon the emptiness, tiny motes holding a fragment. The blackness consumed her again for a while, then... until a voice infringed upon her consciousness. A voice she recognized.

        "Remove it." the voice commanded, and Klairika cried out as four great metal pincers tightened upon the cockpit bubble and ripped it away. She looked up... and wished to Valen she hadn't. The remnants of her fighter were now within what appeared to be a small cargo hold -- the raen-shahn who had captured her standing around its perimeter, two still in their *vakar*... but the individual who had spoken was standing directly in front of her, his face creased with a smile of triumph. She knew him -- and she hated him. Had hated him before -- but that hate was nothing to what she was feeling now. How had he done it? How?

        With a snarl, she hit the strap-release and jumped towards him... and it was only she in mid-leap that she remembered she'd left her pike in her quarters, back on the 'Shard'. And cried she out in pain as Berane shook his head with a regretful sigh...

        Grabbed her with both hands, twisted, and threw down upon the deckplates.

        "Have you forgotten so easily the lessons of your youth, Klairika?" Berane silkily inquired, as he placed his boot upon her neck. "No matter -- there will be plenty of time now to re-educate you."

        "Monster!" she hissed, as the other raen-shahn gathered close around to witness her humbling.

        "Ah yes. Such a wonderful human term, that is," Berane noted, "But perhaps not the best to use with one of your family's most trusted retainers, yes? And now for another reminder -- you remember what we do with l'chaeyn who've misbehaved, don't you?"

        "No!" she cried out, struggling as the hunters took hold of her. "You'll pay for this... my comrades, they'll come after me!"

        "I think *not*." Berane replied. "For after all, how can one rescue the dead?

        Take her away." the hunter ordered, and even as his order was obeyed, she saw a figure in the corner of the cargo bay, a thing all in robes... and in a moment of clarity, she realized what had happened here... realized what the robed figure had to be. The enemies are gathering, Julia, she thought, and soon enough, darkness will fall.

        Which, for her, it did a moment later, as one of the hunters finally grew impatient with her, drew back his fist, and struck a hard blow against the weakest part of her skull, behind her left ear.

* * *

        Elsewhere...

        "Alyt," Tirivail reported, "There is a... large group of warships approaching our position." A pause, and then her eyes caught fire. "Drakh!"

        "Ah," Rahkeel mused from his position at the heart of the 'Stormwind's bridge, "At last -- the master responds to the predicament of the servant. Open a communications channel with them at once!"

        The viewscreen shimmered... and then steadied to reveal the face of a Drakh, its posture imperious, its expression stern. "Something of ours, you have." it whispered. "You will return it to us."

        "We must discuss this, you and I." Rahkeel replied. "Where no one else can hear."

        A moment passed, but finally, the Drakh nodded. "It shall be as you say, Minbari -- there is a system close by, uninhabited. You will bring our servant to the surface of the fourth world... there we will meet with you."

        "It is agreed." Rahkeel replied, and after another imperceptible nod from the Drakh, the signal ended.

        "And so it begins." Tirivail whispered.

        "A more ironic choice of phrase I cannot imagine," Rahkeel replied with a bitter laugh and a smile, "But accurate, just the same. And so it begins, indeed!"

* * *

        But that, as I have noted before, was not how it ended.

* * *

        To be concluded!


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