What was that speech? Something about, "If they destroy it, then we will rebuild it. And if they destroy it again, then we will rebuild it again, as many times as is necessary."

Something like that. The sentiment was there.

He walked on, noticing others moving about in the cool of the evening. Most were Minbari of course, but there were a surprising number of aliens present as well. Some Drazi, their normally furious faces a little calmer here. Some Narns, proudly wearing sunburst badges. Even a few humans, walking quickly, heads bowed.

He was not sure where he was going. David was here somewhere, helping to rebuild. He would probably be where the largest construction site was, unless they had finished work for the day, in which case he could be anywhere. Sheridan was content to drift and trust to fate to shepherd him in the right direction.

He had a feeling he was walking away from the centre of the city when he came across a Minbari woman sitting on a large rock, watching the sky with a contented air. She was small and slightly built, wearing a plain robe stained by dust and labour. There was a strange look in her eyes, a look of understanding. Sheridan remembered meeting the Dalai Lama, decades ago, millennia ago. He had had that same look. The look of a person who knows where he or she belongs in the galaxy.

He was about to move on past her when she looked squarely at him. "A good evening, General Sheridan," she said formally.

He started. "Who? I...."

She smiled. "Please. We have been aware for some time that you would be visiting. You have been noticed and recognised at least a dozen times on your walk. You are not exactly an unfamiliar figure here."

"I haven't been here in three years," he protested. "How did you know...? Did Delenn tell you I was coming?"

"We have eyes and ears in a great many places. Delenn had no need to tell us anything. My name is Kats."

Sheridan paused, thinking. He knew that name. He had a nagging feeling he had seen her before too, although here had been more concern in her face then. That had been.... during the Rebirth Ceremony. She had been with Sinoval. She was Satai now. That was it.

"I've seen you before," he said.

"Ah, you do remember. I suppose I should feel flattered. For my part, I remember you as well. You look.... different from the last time. More careworn, but a little more understanding."

"Yes, I've.... learned a lot since then. I've had a lot of things to think about."

"Have not we all?"

"I suppose you know why I'm here."

"It is not hard to guess." She rose nimbly, and gestured along the road. It led to a small hill, rising gracefully to the horizon. "He is this way."

"Does he.... David.... Does he know I'm here?"

"No. Or at least, I did not tell him. I think you two have a great deal to talk about, and I did not wish to pre-empt any of that conversation."

"I'm not even sure I know how to begin."

"He is a good man, and a friend." They began to walk, Sheridan matching his stride to her shorter pace. "It is strange to think of a human that way, but it is true. He looked so lost when I first saw him, wounded and.... almost broken. He has had over a year to mend himself, and I think he is ready. The galaxy needs him more than we do, something I have been trying to convince him of. Perhaps you can do that."

"I'm not here to convince him of anything. I just.... need to talk to him, that's all."

She smiled. "Then that will have to be enough. See, there he is."

There was a tree at the top of the hill, a small thing, but green against the brown of the earth. A tiny spark of life. A figure was sitting in its shadow, staring down at the lake below.

Kats stopped. "I will leave you now. What you have to say should be said alone."

Sheridan nodded. "Thank you, Satai."

"There is no need."

He nodded again and walked on. Engrossed in the vision before him, David did not seem to notice him at all. Now that Sheridan was nearer, he could see that the lake was heavy with silt and mud. Once there had been teeming life and great beauty there, but now it was smothered and destroyed.

"David?" he said, almost too quietly even to hear himself. He coughed. "David," he said more loudly.

He turned. David looked at him.

"John," he said. "You know, I'm not the least bit surprised. Sooner or later, everyone comes to Minbar."

In the halls of the rulers of Narn, there was fear and anger and disbelief.

There was also a lot of noise.

"Let them try! We will fight!"

".... must tell them they are wrong...."

".... a message to the people, tell them all is well...."

".... a joke, a sick joke...."

".... satellite reports...."

".... explain that we are innocent...."

".... fight them."

".... the Centauri...."

Countless voices shouting at each other without sense or meaning, simply giving voice to emotion. They were the leaders of the Narn people. They lived a life of fear and paranoia. They had grown up in a world occupied by the Centauri, when everyone knew their lives hung on the whims of utterly remorseless and implacable aliens. They had sworn never to experience such helplessness again, and that vow had given birth to terrible anger and even more terrible fear. They had tried to build beauty and hope, and darkness and corruption had been the result.

All that now remained was the fear.

These were new aliens. The Narn had become stronger since they had driven out the Centauri, but they had become weaker as well, and now they were all feeling that weakness.

Apart from one.

"Silence!"

Everyone stopped, and turned. It was a Narn voice, one strong and filled with power, one used to command.

Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar walked hesitantly into the room, blinking occasionally against the light. Beside him, supporting his faltering steps, stood Da'Kal. To more than one pair of eyes they appeared as they had all those years ago, the magnificent warrior and his beautiful queen.

G'Kar's footsteps were hard and heavy, and blood covered his tunic. The side of his face was matted with his own blood, and there were deep furrows of raw flesh where his eye had once been.

Still, he commanded them by his very presence. Each of them knew they would have let this man rule if only he had wanted to. They remembered the way he had spoken to them the last time he had been here, when he had forced the peace with the Centauri. Here was one whose voice could shake the foundations of the planet.

He walked up to the podium, Da'Kal still helping him. Once there, she stepped back. He was standing tall and majestic, his wounds forgotten.

"We will not fight them," he whispered. He coughed, blood filling his mouth, and then repeated himself, louder and more certain. "We will not fight them.

"They are too strong and too powerful. We will not negotiate. They would not listen. This is not a joke, not a lie, not an illusion. This is reality.

"We have become dark and corrupt. We have been consumed by vengeance until that is all we can see. I tried to teach you...." His voice fell, despairing. "I tried to teach you," he said again, more quietly. "But the truth is that I blame myself for this as much as I blame any of you. I should have seen this more clearly. I wanted to believe we were what I wanted us to be and I could not imagine it any other way.