And then, when Ambassador Sheridan arrived, one of his purposes had been to release all those imprisoned after the battle. An exchange of prisoners had been made; Smith and a few others for a group of Drazi 'terrorists' and Brakiri merchants who had unwittingly fallen foul of some of the more stringent Wartime Emergency Provisions.

What had happened to the other humans freed from Kazomi 7 he was not sure. Most of his crew had been released voluntarily not long after the battle. Lieutenant Franklin had elected to stay behind, and as far as the Government was concerned, he was dead. There was one other transfer involved, but that was conducted in the utmost secrecy.

The door opened, and President Clark's personal secretary stepped out. "The President will see you now," she said.

Smith nodded and walked through the door, glad he had not been required to don his full dress uniform. It would have felt even less comfortable and fitting to him than the standard uniform he was wearing now.

There were three people seated at the table before him. In the middle was President Clark himself, his face carefully expressionless. Smith had met the President before, when he had been awarded the Silver Star for Valour in the final stages of the campaign for Minbar. That meeting had been awkward and unpleasant, and it would doubtless be even more so now.

To the President's right sat General Edward Ryan, former aide to the deceased General Hague and currently head of the military operations of humanity. He was also in personal command of the Morningstar and had been present at the Battle of the Third Line. He looked…. disappointed, but also uncomfortable. It was no secret that he was personally held in little esteem by the Government.

And to the President's left sat Mr. Welles, Chief of Security and holder of various unofficial and secret positions within the Government. Smith was not truly certain how he felt about Mr. Welles. He had come to him shortly before his departure for Epsilon Eridani, and had sought to determine the strength of Smith's loyalty to humanity in a confusing conversation. Smith had been under the impression that, whatever Welles had wanted from him, he had not received it.

"At ease, Captain Smith," said the President.

"Yes, sir."

Clark then fell silent, reading from the notes in front of him. It was an exercise in intimidation, obviously, but it wasn't really working. After witnessing the arrival of those massed hordes of inky black, screaming ships in the skies above Epsilon Eridani, very little could intimidate him again.

"Explain your actions at the Epsilon battle, Captain Smith," said Clark, finally.

"I made…. errors of judgment, Mr. President," Smith replied carefully. He had rehearsed this nonstop, but actually saying the words came harder and harder. "I accept full responsibility for the failure of the mission."

"I see. I have received a full report from General Ryan, who has described your behaviour as…. 'erratic' prior to the beginning of the battle, but he comments on your bravery and courage in forming a rearguard to allow General Ryan, the Morningstar and the Marten to escape once it became clear that all was lost.

"I have very little doubt that you are a good soldier, Captain Smith, and you are clearly a brave man. Your decorations declare as much." The President looked directly into Smith's eyes, and sighed. "However, there has been a great deal of…. controversy surrounding you and the Babylon. Numerous minor faults and damage, the mysterious engagement at Beta Durani last year, and of course the presence of a dangerous saboteur among your bridge crew, a saboteur who subsequently escaped from confinement in this very building."

Mr. Welles looked less than pleased at this.

"However, very little blame for this can be attached to you, Captain. In retrospect, making the Babylon our flagship was a mistake on my part. I had hoped that it would have positive connotations for the public, and serve as a useful rallying point. In doing so, I overlooked the fact that it is an old ship, and too closely associated with the…. famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Captain Sheridan. Expecting you to take over his position was too great a burden for any man.

"You are not to be court-martialled, or called to account for any of your errors of judgment, Captain Smith. Many…. strange decisions can be made in the heat of battle. You will be honourably discharged with full rights and pension. You have been a good and loyal servant of humanity in this difficult time, Captain, and all humanity owes you great gratitude.

"You are dismissed, Mr. Smith."

Faith manages.

Delenn had always believed that, and she had faith. But as she went to keep her appointment she was wondering just to what extent her faith was helping her here.

Ambassador David Sheridan had been on Kazomi 7 for over two weeks now, and some preliminary deals had been agreed. A prisoner exchange had been the most concrete evidence that he meant what he said, and the establishment of trade pacts between the Alliance and Proxima 3 seemed promising, but the larger issues were only now being dealt with.

What did the Shadows want? Could there really be peace? She wanted to believe it, but everything she had been taught, by Kosh, by Dukhat, everything she had seen with her own eyes at Proxima, at Minbar, at Epsilon 3…. all those things argued against it.

But to hope, perchance to dream…. Lethke had been right. Peace would be a truly great thing, if it were possible.

But she was still worried as she entered Ambassador Sheridan's personal quarters, the base of the delegation.

He was seated at a desk, looking over various documents. He looked up as she entered, and for one brief moment she saw in his eyes the same light that burned in John's, and she was troubled. John had rarely spoken of his family to her, and she did not even know his father's name, but there were similarities — in expression, tone of voice, posture; little things that came and went, and that she only just caught.

"Ah, Madam President. Come in. Thank you for coming. Please, sit down. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you," she said, sitting down across from him. "My title is not President, by the way."

"Of course not," he said smiling slightly, as if at a private joke. "Forgive an old diplomat for being a little…. set in his ways. I'm not used to people in positions of authority such as yours…. not having a title. It makes those moments of formality a little easier, doesn't it? What is your proper title, then?"

"I have never needed one. My name is Delenn, Ambassador. You may use that if you wish."

"No, I don't think so," he said, and then he paused, shaking his head. "That would…. hardly be appropriate."

"Why did you request this meeting, Ambassador?" she asked, feeling ill-at-ease. The room…. seemed far darker than would normally be the case. Oh, on the surface it was little different from any of the other diplomatic quarters in the building: comfortable enough, large enough for an Ambassador and his staff. But there was something just below the surface. A hint of darkness, of corruption.

Or was it just her imagination?

"I…. ah…. wanted to present a proposal to you, and to show you something. You in particular, partly because you're the leader and the focus here, but also because…. of who you are. You're Minbari, the only Minbari on the Council here, and as yet I believe Primarch Sinoval has not deigned to provide an Ambassador here."

"Primarch Sinoval…. has his own concerns."