Ulkesh: *He is returning to the beginning.*

Rathenn: "...The beginning of what?"

In Valen's quarters, Sinclair looked closely at the reflection which was not of the man he knew himself to be, but of the man he would become. Was there anything left of Jeffrey Sinclair in the Minbari features? At first, he didn't think so. Pale, hairless flesh, reset ears, a towering bonecrest, and a bony brow ridge... Even his nose was different. He was also many years older, into middle age for a Minbari. He reached up a hand and watched Valen touch his nose.

But not everything was different. His eyes were the same. And that fact more than any of the alien outer covering made it real, as nothing else had.

"It's true," he murmured in English. The words grated in his throat, which was unused to the language. "I am Valen."

Some men might have been crushed by the revelation and the knowledge of the responsibility which would be his to shoulder. But instead he bowed his head to the reflection of his future. Now he understood where he had been and where he was going. The path was clear.

He returned to the main room and ordered off the lights, leaving only the candles lit. He knelt on a cushion and prepared for a long wait. Delenn and Zathras would find a way to bring him back.

* * * *

The White Star settled gently on the outer hull of Babylon 4 and the cutters went to work, boring a hole and sealing it to create an umbilical cord between the two vessels. Once attached, as planned, Marcus went out to reconnoiter, with the other humans doing the same in other directions, while Delenn, Zathras, and a few other Minbari began to unload the equipment.

Marcus sneaked through the corridors, intrigued by the familiarity to Babylon 5 but also repulsed. Though of the same general design, this station was larger and had been built more extravagantly, but there was practically no one on board. He was accustomed to the crush of people of Down Below or in the Zocalo. This emptiness was disconcerting.

He ducked into the shadows as a technician went past. The emptiness also made it much easier to know when someone else was around.

As he approached more critical areas, it became harder to evade notice. There were over two thousand people on board, which was not a lot for the station's capacity, but they were all stationed in important places. It made movement very difficult. Finally he turned and started back, having seen all he needed to see.

Sheridan looked at Ivanova who had gone to find the best path to the reactor system. "Well?"

She answered, "Configuration is a little different from Babylon 5. Best guess is that way."

"Getting there isn't the hard part," Marcus said. "Getting all that equipment into position without being seen, that's going to be tough."

"I agree," Susan glanced at him then back to Sheridan. "We need to secure one of the primary corridors."

"Can you handle it?"

She hesitated then nodded, "I have an idea. But I'm going to need some help."

Marcus volunteered to join her so quickly Sheridan had the feeling he would have gone even if she'd said she wanted to scrub the fresher. It was either the attraction simmering between the two of them -- Sheridan couldn't help a smile -- or Marcus preferred action to stewing over Sinclair's fate. Or both. Sheridan faced Zathras, and his expression settled back into grim lines. "Lennier has to stay with the ship. Can you get the equipment up here by yourself?"

The odd alien nodded several times. "Yes, yes. Zathras used to being beast of burden to other people's needs. Very sad life. Probably have very sad death, but at least there is symmetry. Go," he shooed at Sheridan and Delenn, "go. Zathras take care."

Sheridan couldn't resist another brief smile then looked down at Delenn. Those beautiful depthless green eyes were still dark with worry. He squeezed her hand. "Once we're in position, Zathras will have time to get Sinclair back. But for now we've got to get ready, before their scanners go back on line."

She inhaled a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "Then, as you say, let's go."

* * * *

Sinclair heard a soft chime and opened his eyes. Apparently, being unstuck in time meant he was stuck in one time, because he was still in Valen's quarters. Remembering to speak the right dialect, he ordered the lights up, and then called, "Enter."

The young acolyte who had been there when he awoke, bowed in the door. "Forgive me for intruding, Entil'Zha, but there is urgent news."

Sinclair rose to his feet and gestured her inside. "Go on."

The acolyte's discipline broke into a grin. "The Fourth Battle group is on its way back, Master. They report more than ten Shadow cruisers destroyed. It's working!"

They were winning the war. Sinclair closed his eyes, relieved. Everything was going to happen as it should, after all.

"Casualties?"

Her smile died away. "One of our cruisers, one Vorlon, several support vessels. Many of our telepaths."

Sinclair let out a sigh. Even with Vorlon help, casualties were very high, but at least the balance had swung in the other direction. It told him how unlikely victory in his present would be without the Vorlons. Fortunately, they would have Vorlon technology, if not Vorlons. Those days of arguing for the construction of the White Star fleet had been well spent.

"Entil'Zha?" the acolyte had drawn close and looked at him, in concern. "That's not so bad. Is it?"

"No," he answered. "Much better than it was. Still, we can ill afford any loss. But," he resolutely found a smile for her and buried his concerns for the distant future, "for now, we'll enjoy our victory. Make the arrangements for a celebration when the group arrives."

She hesitated and asked, in a tone of mixed surprise and hope, "You'll be there?"

There was a wealth of information in that question that told him too much. Was Valen so isolated that she would be surprised that he would come? Was Valen so revered that his mere presence would overshadow the victorious warriors?

"Yes," he answered. He had a sudden, overpowering need to see the station. The last time he had been here was when the station was practically deserted, and he wanted to see crowds and activity. "Come; let's share the news."

"But, Entil'Zha, security --"

"On my own station?" He moved to the door and beckoned her to follow. "Come. Joy and sorrow should both be shared with others."

Then, with a slightly puzzled acolyte at his heels, he left his quarters. The warriors on either side of his door started in surprise and swiftly moved to follow. One of them murmured into his comm, no doubt reporting that Valen was on the move and he needed better security.

Sinclair smiled, refusing to pay any attention and let it disturb his mood now. The Alliance had won a victory against the Shadows -- in this time, or any other, it was something to celebrate. As he walked the corridors, with the smaller acolyte at his side, everyone he met nodded in formal acknowledgment. It was not too different from the respect he had received from the Rangers, which he had long since accepted as something he couldn't change.

A casual observer would not have known the station was at war. The main corridor he traveled was in perfect condition, spotlessly clean, in a similar design to those in Babylon 5's blue and green sector residential areas. He noticed two main changes, smiling inwardly: the lights had all been replaced with glowing crystals and all the lettering had been replaced on the signs.

But a close observer would have seen the signs of strain and ongoing war. Some of the new lettering had not been placed permanently and was falling off, the Minbari he saw were tense, everyone carried a weapon regardless of caste, and almost immediately after emerging from his quarters one of the warriors who had been inside earlier found him.

The large male, who had Neroon's height but a thin, bony face, "Entil'Zha, I assume Lauenn told you about the Fourth Battle group?"

Fortunately the warrior looked at the acolyte and Sinclair realized that Lauenn was her name. "Yes, she did. I've called for a celebration when they return."

The warrior made a dismissive gesture and held up two flimsies. "Certainly, Master, it would be good for morale. But I've just received these reports from the Azhri sector, which you must see."

Sinclair took the sheets and examined them. It was a good thing that the Minbari had kept ahil-Adronato so unchanged -- or else he would never been able to understand the sheets. Reading the reports gave him a moment to figure out what to do now. Destined to be a warleader or not, he couldn't give any orders without some more information, or his future self would have to undo his mistakes.

The warrior prompted, "Shall I call a war council, Entil'Zha?"

"Yes, I'll be there directly."

The warrior bowed his head and strode off.

Lauenn looked at the flimsies in his hand and she bit her lip. "Bad news always comes with good, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes it seems that way," he acknowledged. "But Lauenn, your news is much better than this is bad. You have my full authority to proceed with the victory celebration. Do whatever you think would be appropriate."

Her eyes grew round with excited pride and she clasped her hands together tightly. "Thank you, Master. I will not disappoint you."

"Just welcome the victors home," he smiled down at her. "That will please me enough. But Lauenn," he couldn't help teasing her a little, "nothing too extravagant, all right?"

She grinned back, a bit shyly, as if unsure that the mighty Valen could really be teasing her.

Suddenly the edges of his vision frayed, and he flung out a desperate hand to the acolyte's shoulder to keep himself upright.

"Entil'Zha?" She turned to look at his face and her own grew alarmed. "You are not well."

He was floating, not all of him seemed to be present in his body, and for a moment, there were two of them.

A voice -- his own -- spoke with greater authority, "No, Lauenn. This is not... unexpected. It will pass."

Then, for Sinclair, everything vanished.

* * * *

Marcus stood on the overturned crate and held up the box of equipment so that Susan could grab it. There was a lot to set up, more than he would have expected -- though how he could possibly have an accurate expectation of the equipment needed to move a five-mile-long station through time was questionable.

Having one of the primary corridors blocked off by the simple expedient of an artificial hull breach had helped immensely. Now it was just the physical task of moving the equipment from the White Star to the staging area, before beginning the more delicate work of assembling the devices which would have to be attached to the reactor core.

He spied Zathras down the corridor tinkering with a blue e-suit, instead of working on the devices for the system as he should. The sight annoyed him. "Do you think you could lend us a hand?"

The odd alien shook his head and didn't look up. "No, no. Very busy. Zathras has idea. Saw him, Zathras did."

A chill ran up Marcus' spine. Entil'Zha had been here. If he had come back once, he could come back again.

Then Zathras had to spoil his hope, when he added, "So Zathras thinks. Perhaps power supply in suit will help activate time stabilizer. Will not last though. Then he will be lost again." He made a final adjustment and moved back, with a decisive, bouncing nod of his head. "There, finished. Now we wait."

Without another word, he walked past Susan, dropped into the White Star, brushing against Marcus as he went, and disappeared below.

Marcus looked up to meet her gaze and found a grin. "He's quite mad, you know. He actually thinks Entil'Zha's going to materialize in there."

She returned his smile, with a rueful one of her own. "Marcus, we're stealing a station to fight in a war that ended a thousand years ago. We're all mad."

He had to nod. It was rather absurd when she put it like that.

"You know, I've been thinking," Ivanova mused as she set the box to the side and stopped to regard him with an intent gaze. "I don't like the idea of Jeff doing this. Not one bit."

"I don't either," Marcus admitted. "But he has his reasons, Susan." He remembered his last conversation with Entil'Zha before going to Zagros 7 and the sorrow that still lurked in his mentor's eyes. "He wants to find Catherine. I'm sure that's part of it. He's hoping that she'll be there, on the other side."

Susan shook her head impatiently. "That's all very romantic, Marcus, but think about it more logically. What's really going to be on the other side?" She answered the question herself. "A bunch of very tense, less civilized Minbari. Are they really going to accept a strange alien and his even stranger station in the middle of a war?"

Marcus fell silent as he thought about it. The question had been worrying at the back of his mind since Delenn had told him what Entil'Zha intended to do, but he hadn't been able to identify what his instincts disliked. Minbari in a desperate war would not take kindly to an alien who spoke their language and appeared out of nowhere, station or no station.

"I'm sure Entil'Zha and Delenn have already figured this out," he said finally. "They've got a plan. They're just not telling us what it is."

"Yeah, I think that's what worries me the most." She glanced down at her hands and traced invisible circles in the floor to gather her thoughts. "Jeff and Delenn are a lot alike, Marcus. Neither of them thinks about themselves when other lives are at stake. I'm worried that their plan is for Jeff to take himself out of the way somehow, so the Minbari will accept the station. Maybe even kill himself," she added more softly. "And that's just not right."

He reached up and put his hand over hers. Her hand turned over to clasp his tightly. "I'm sure that's not what they're planning, Susan."

But he wasn't sure, not at all. Entil'Zha had never been the most talkative of people, but on the trip he had been more silent than usual, wrapped up in his own thoughts. There was something in Entil'Zha's gaze which Marcus had never seen before -- the peace of an irrevocable decision, or the surrender to a path of little choice.

Clearly, Entil'Zha believed that he had to take Babylon 4 back in time. Maybe he was doing it to save lives, or maybe he was doing it because it might be his only chance to find his time-lost fiancee, but in either case, Marcus suspected that Ivanova was right; Entil'Zha would do what he believed had to be done regardless of any cost to himself.

It was admirable and it was what he taught every Ranger to do. And yet, Marcus couldn't help but think that in this case it was also terribly selfish. The present needed Entil'Zha, the Rangers needed him, and now he intended to abandon them to do something that anyone could do.

Interrupting his thoughts, he thought he saw one of the arms of the e-suit twitch. He stared, at first unsure he was seeing anything.

Ivanova turned to follow his gaze, and the figure made a more decisive movement of his legs.

"Jeff!"

He was only two steps behind her as they rushed there, and helped take the helmet off. With a great sigh of relief, he saw that it was Sinclair.

"Entil'Zha, are you all right?" he asked anxiously. Ranger One seemed fine, though at first disoriented. He blinked and identified Marcus and Susan standing in front of him.

He put a gloved hand to his head then let out a sigh. "I think so, Marcus. A bit of a headache, but I'm okay." He put out a hand, which Ivanova took to help him to his feet. Marcus just looked at him, glad he was back. It wasn't right that Entil'Zha planned to sacrifice his life for people who had been dead a thousand years -- not when there were millions who depended on him in the here and now.

Down the corridor, he heard approaching footsteps and put his hand on his pike, until he was sure who it was.

"Where's Sheridan?" Sinclair asked.

"Right here," Sheridan and Delenn came around the corner. Sheridan had put on a blue e-suit like Entil'Zha's. The captain held out his hand which Sinclair took. "Welcome back, Ambassador. How was your trip?"

The corners of Entil'Zha's mouth turned upward slightly. It was an expression all Rangers knew well, as meaning he wasn't going to say very much. "Illuminating." He glanced at Marcus. "What's our status?"

Marcus answered, "We've secured a path to the central power core. We're ready to proceed."

Sheridan invited, "Ready?"

Sinclair gestured for Sheridan to precede him down the corridor.

Delenn approached Sinclair, and Marcus was suddenly on alert when they spoke in Adronato. "Jeffrey, su sa?" Are you all right?

"Iza." Fine, he answered, and leaned closer to her to say more softly, "Vennesa na' fallen." I know what's coming.

For a moment, Marcus saw grief overwhelm her features, but sorrow passed and was replaced by the same acceptance that Entil'Zha wore.

"Petrosh," she murmured. I'm sorry.

"Nemosh na." Don't be. He comforted her with one of his rare, true smiles, then added, "For the first time in my life, the path is clear." Then he left her and followed after Sheridan.

Marcus stared after him. No. This was all wrong. This couldn't be the true destiny of Entil'Zha, not after all he had done. The universe was unfair, but it couldn't be this unjust. There had to be some way to stop this.

But as the minutes and hours flickered past while the group readied the station, no brilliant idea came to him.