"A half-truth is worse than a lie."

-- Entil'Zha

John Sheridan desperately wanted to scratch his nose. He knew the only reason he wanted to was because he absolutely couldn't, but it didn't help his growing frustration. He was putting in his third hour in his e-suit, and it didn't seem as if they were getting anywhere.

Attaching the devices for the time jump system was delicate work, made more difficult by their e-suits and the microgravity in the reactor core chamber. He glanced to the figure next to him, where Sinclair's face was visible in the glow of his hand welder, and Sheridan grimaced. Sinclair didn't seem to be having any difficulty. His expression was calm and focused on his task.

Through the hours, he had tried to make light conversation, only to find Sinclair vague and preoccupied. But now, the captain was bored enough to prod just a little harder.

"Ambassador?" He waited until Sinclair answered before continuing, "Could I ask you something?"

Sinclair's voice echoed in his ears through the comm. "Certainly."

"What happened when you were gone? Where did you go? When?"

"The past." There was a long silence and Sheridan thought that was all the answer he was going to get.

But Sinclair continued, while he carefully reattached the welder to his belt. "It gave me a lot to think about. We all make choices in what we do. But now, I see where all my choices have led me, and I wonder if any of them were really choices at all."

Sheridan held up the next device and slowly slid it into place. As he twisted the large-headed bolts through to hold it on, he commented, "You're talking about destiny. I've never held much stock in the concept, myself."

"I didn't either," Sinclair responded. "I've had more than one argument with the Minbari about it."

"Didn't?" Sheridan repeated. "But now you do?"

"Free will is only useful when you have something to choose."

"And you don't think you have a choice about taking this station back in time, do you?"

His voice uninflected, Sinclair said, "It can't go back without someone to guide it."

"So why you? I don't know everything you're up to as Ranger One, but I know it's important. What happens when you're gone?"

"The Rangers know what to do."

"But can't someone else shepherd this thing?"

Sinclair paused and turned so Sheridan could see the deep, somber eyes behind his faceplate. "Others can take my place as Ranger One. But no one else can do this, Captain."

Sheridan felt a cold finger of apprehension travel his spine. There was something eerie about Sinclair's unshakable conviction. "You're very sure of that."

"Yes, I am."

"But you don't want to go," Sheridan guessed.

"I'm..." Sinclair paused to pick the right word, "... reluctant to face the end of that journey. I know what it is, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

"I couldn't do it," Sheridan admitted. He locked down his mechanism and then went to help Sinclair with a long coil of cabling that had gotten tangled somehow. "I couldn't leave behind everything I know, to go back in the depths of time. On the say-so of -- what, a video clip of this station a thousand years ago?"

"Not even to save millions, perhaps billions, of lives in the present?" Sinclair returned. "Remember this isn't just about the Minbari of the past needing the station, Captain. If they don't have it, a thousand years will be much darker, and a lot of people are going to die in our present shadow war. You could do it. We both understand that one person's life is of small account when balanced with so many others."

On the bridge of the White Star Susan and Marcus shared a glance as it confirmed what they suspected.

"This is my path while I'm on it," Sinclair continued, his gloved hands groping through the knotted cabling, "This is the twisted course all of my choices have made, or so it seems. But in the end... It's very simple. All the choices fall away to one." With a gentle tug, the nest of cabling pulled free into a single line.

The end of it sailed to Sheridan, who grabbed it. He chuckled. "Now that was a fortunate coincidence." Then he remembered the conversation in the shuttle cabin and held up a hand. "I know, I know. 'There are no coincidences.'"

Sinclair's rather enigmatic smile was answer enough, but he added lightly, "I'll make a Ranger of you yet."

Ivanova's voice cut in over the comm speakers in both their helmets and reported. "Captain, I just finished rigging the scanners on B4 to detect a phony alert in the fusion reactor. It'll make it look like the whole place is going critical. That should encourage the crew to evacuate so we can move this thing."

Sheridan answered, "Roger that." End of the cable still in hand, he jetted forward toward the device, which looked amazingly like a carbuncle on the smooth side of the massive reactor shielding.

A bright spark jumping from the tachyon polarizer to the homing device housing was their only warning.

"Sheridan --!" Sinclair shouted and John felt himself yanked hard by the cable in his hands. Lightning skittered all along the core, brilliant coruscating energies that seemed to follow him as the force of the pull started him winging back toward Sinclair.

A brighter, white light flashed from the time-travel system, which would have been blinding except for his shaded visor. An incredible force suddenly grabbed him and threw him back, and he didn't realize it was an explosion until he was tumbling out of control. The inner surface of the core chamber whirled, too fast for him to get an idea of direction. He closed his eyes against the dizziness.

Then the wave of tachyons hit, trailing other energies, and the universe seemed to turn inside out. Nausea gripped him and he devoted all his energy to not vomiting.

After a moment that seemed to drag for an eternity, the wave stopped. When he opened his eyes again, he was still tumbling out of control, but at least the universe seemed to have stabilized. Remembering his EVA training, long hours in a simulator at the academy before he was permitted real space walks, he delicately used his suit jets to bring himself to a relative stop.

He found, to his momentary amusement, that he was still clutching the end of the cable with which Sinclair had so ably demonstrated his life's lesson. Sinclair had probably saved him from injury, if not death, by yanking him away from the homing device. But since he had pulled Sheridan back, Sinclair would have gone forward, into the explosion.

There was no one holding the other end of the cable when Sheridan gathered it up in a neat coil. In fact, near as he could see -- and in the cavernous reactor chamber that was a long way -- Sinclair was nowhere.

Since the explosion had not been powerful enough to obliterate every trace of him, it very likely had undone whatever had kept him stabilized in this time, sending Sinclair back into the timestream.

The explosion had not destabilized the core, or he wouldn't still be alive, but it might have obliterated the time-travel homing system they had been so painstakingly constructing.

He jetted for a closer look.

"Captain?" he heard the concerned voice of Ivanova. "Ambassador? Can you hear me?"

"Sinclair's gone again," he answered and as his suit lights fell on the time device, he saw the damage. The upper stabilizer cone looked melted and charred. "And we have a new problem..."

* * * *

Sinclair felt the time energies swirl around him again and rough hands yank him out of the present. As the brilliance filled his mind, he tried to prepare himself.

He opened his eyes and dizziness struck. He closed his eyes again, but he had seen enough in his glimpse to tell him a little. He was not on Babylon 4, in any time, but looked to be in a small craft in deep space.

The second attempt at opening his eyes was less confusing and he was able to place himself. He was seated in the pilot's chair of a Minbari Flyer, and after a quick check knew he was still near the present time. The semi-reflective surface of the console gave back a watery image of Jeffrey Sinclair.

But how was that possible? He felt his head, felt the hair, just to confirm what he saw. He wasn't in his own past, because he had never sat in the pilot's chair of a Flyer, but it couldn't be the future, because he would have no opportunity to pilot a Flyer before he took B4 back in time.

A dull cold feeling seized his heart. This had to be his future, which meant something would go terribly wrong with the mission in the present. Unless... He smiled. Of course. The hopeful thought suddenly occurred to him that this could be a vision from the alternate future of Ivanova's warning.

"Computer, what is the date?"

The answer came back in Minbari terms but he translated effortlessly. September 9, 2262.

He sank back in his chair, worried. A bit more than two years from "now" and the prophesied destruction of Babylon 5 in Ivanova's alternate future. Could that false timeline really continue so far forward?

A quick look proved he was alone on the Flyer, so he tried to get answers from the computer. "Current location and heading?"

The warm Minbari voice answered, "Grid Epsilon, heading Sector 14."

His head snapped up in surprise. That was not what he had expected. "Computer, full sensor sweep of Grid Epsilon. List any ships, stations, and anomalies within range."

"Minbari cruiser Trilevi, Minbari cruiser Naya. One anomaly categorized as disruption of space-time."

The omission wasn't a surprise, but he had to ask. "And Babylon 5?"

"Babylon 5 was destroyed in 2260."

Sinclair shut his eyes. More painful than the realization that he had failed, was knowing that he had broken his promise to Garibaldi. Michael was dead, murdered by the Shadows, and it was because of Sinclair. Another one lost, just like Catherine...

When the temporal rift opened, he stared at it, as a sudden, wild hope bloomed in his chest. Could this be why he was here? "Computer, isolate scanners on rift. Search for spacecraft."

The computer acknowledged. He watched the screen avidly, hoping for a ship to emerge from the dark disk inside the distortion field. Just one glimpse of her ship, to know that she was okay, would make the past few months worthwhile. But the rift remained stubbornly empty. He leaned heavily back in his chair and tried to push away the loss, as his hope withered. What did it matter really? If she did come back in 2262, he would be long gone, and this time there would be no way for her to follow.

He shook his head as the thorns of time paradox snagged his mind. Catherine was gone, but there was still Michael, Delenn, Susan, and so many others who were going to have to live in the future after he had left it. It was up to him to find out as much as he could to carry back to them and prevent this nightmare of the station's destruction.

However, the computer refused to provide him with details other than the date of its destruction, which he already knew from Ivanova's mayday. He almost opened a channel to the Minbari cruisers hovering half a sector away, but decided he shouldn't. He was out here alone for a purpose, and he needed to discover what that was.

When Babylon 4 reappeared within the distortion, his relief was so strong that he felt giddy. Now he could go in and discover what had happened.

He cycled the engines and the small Flyer moved forward. The ship nudged forward and the nose of the ship entered the distortion field. But when the distortion field touched the cockpit he felt the energies grab hold of him again. "No!" he screamed and willed himself to stay. With every fiber of his being, he tried to hold himself in that time. But there was nothing to grab...

Brutal force wrapped around him, ignoring his cry. Pain flared in his head like a spike in the skull, and the brightness dimmed and turned to dark.

His last thought was that, once again, he had failed.

* * * *

Delenn climbed up through the hole in the floor into the station. Jeffrey was gone again, and John had said there was damage to the homing system. Others might have considered the mission close to failure, but she was calm. The damage was repairable, though it would cost them time. And as for Entil'Zha, he would return. She had faith in the universe and in the circularity of Jeffrey's destiny. Everything would end all right.

She felt the station spin around her, and suddenly, she was...

... elsewhere...

Her quarters on Babylon 5. All her familiar things were around her, and yet she felt odd -- strangely disconnected from what she saw and from her body. The sensation was akin to telepathically seeing through someone else's eyes. She could see, and vaguely feel what the other felt, but she had no control over anything.

The strangest part of the experience was knowing the other was also Delenn.

Her quarters were dim, lit only by five candles including three in her meditation area. Obviously Delenn had been praying. She felt Delenn's anxiety as a faint echo, but sensed no thoughts. She didn't know if she had come to past, future, or alternate version of herself. This moment could easily be the past, though she had no clear memory of leaving her prayers to pace anxiously.

The chime on her door announced a visitor.

Strange, to hear her own voice call, "Enter," and turn to face the entrance without willing her body to do so.

The door opened and a tall, cloaked figure stood silhouetted in the doorway before stepping forward into the dimness.

Jeffrey Sinclair's warm, gentle voice said, "Delenn...."

Abruptly the sight and sound of him, all sight and all sound, spun crazily and went dark. She lost sense of that other Delenn. But she didn't lose the sense of her own fear, even as her surroundings reformed into the corridor of Babylon Four. Lennier had one hand on her arm, supporting her as the dizziness subsided.

Had it been real at all? Even as she answered Lennier's concerned questions, her thoughts were focused entirely on the question of whether it had been real. She knew that Sinclair had never entered her Babylon Five quarters wearing his Entil'Zha cloak in reality. Perhaps she was merely glimpsing fragments of what-might-have-beens.

Still flustered, she faced Zathras. "What was that?"

"Time flash," he answered. "See yourself, forward or backward in time. Zathras told you. System unstable."

But if this were truly forward in her time, how could Sinclair be there? Heavy footsteps and Ivanova's cry of "Captain!" interrupted her troubled thoughts. She glanced up and, as always, her heart lightened at the sight of John.

"John, are you all right?" she asked anxiously, checking him for damage.

"Fine, but we lost Sinclair again, just as the field went up. We've got to get him back permanently." He turned to look at Zathras. "Is there any way you can fix his time stabilizer?"

Zathras was not as positive as Delenn would have preferred. "I... have components, but I need equipment. Careful, delicate work."

Ivanova offered, "I saw a work area when we were out earlier. Maybe they've got what you need there."

"Then get going," Sheridan ordered. Ivanova nodded and practically dragged Zathras around the corner. Delenn wondered what had happened in the core or in his own time flash, because John seemed to have a greater sense of urgency than before. Perhaps he was merely picking up the anxiety of the others. "I'll go back in the power core with the spare and see if we can stabilize this thing. Marcus, I'll need you and the rest to stay with the White Star and monitor the readings. Tell me when it's ready. We've got one last shot at this, let's make the best of it."

He clomped away in his heavy boots and Delenn watched him go. Was she wrong not to tell the rest of them the full truth about Sinclair? True, they didn't need to know, and it might distract them, when they needed to be focused on their task. But still, perhaps it would be better to know what they were really fighting for.

No, she decided. There would be plenty of time for the final revelation after Jeffrey was gone. He didn't want them to know -- that much had been obvious in his conversation with Sheridan when he could have said something. She would respect his wishes.

They would have to be content with her harmless half-truth.