BABYLON 5 SEASON BY SEASON: NO SURRENDER, NO RETREAT

by Jane Killick

Before an actor can step in front of the camera, there must be a story to tell. There must be words for him to speak, a costume for him to wear, a set for him to stand in, and a camera crew to film him. All this takes a great deal of planning and coordination, from putting the first words of a script down on paper through designing and making costumes, sets, and alien makeups and organizing the filming schedule. An episode may last only forty-four minutes, but it is the result of many hundreds of man-hours.

But before there are individual episodes, there is an overall plan. This started in the late 1980s as a five-year story plan that has been added to and changed as the series has developed. The man who created the story arc, J. Michael Straczynski, keeps his notes in a "hodgepodge" form, which he refers back to as soon as he knows there will be a new season to plan for. From there, he develops a set of notes outlining all twenty-two stories for the season. These are little more than a few sentences describing the main thrust of an episode, such as "Sheridan returns from Z'ha'dum and has to deal with reforming the alliance," and occasionally the major scenes, such as "Sheridan on the bridge talking to people," from Season Four's "The Summoning." These may sound rather sketchy, but they are there only as guides. A more detailed plan is locked away in Joe Straczynski's head. "This is the Scheherazade complex," he says. "They have to keep you alive because if all of my notes were written down in clear and concrete form, I would be almost expendable at this point. Those aren't meant for anyone else. If you picked it up, all you would get would be the very, very broad strokes of where things are going to go. You wouldn't know the details--nor should you, because if it should fall into anybody's hands, it would be all over the computer nets in twenty-four hours."

From that, he writes an outline for the producer, John Copeland, to forewarn him and the heads of the main departments of what is to come. Also at the beginning of the season, they all sit down for what John describes as a "postmortem" of the previous year. "When we have these roundtable discussions, we are harsher on ourselves than any critic has been in print anywhere," he says. "We can be pretty scathing at times, and that can be good because I think that kind of honesty really has helped us to excel from season to season."

Work can then really begin on the individual episodes, but before anything else can swing into action, there has to be a script. Sometimes, Joe Straczynski has passed on his story ideas to other writers. This happened particularly in Seasons One and Two where he would write a short outline, allowing the writer to build on those ideas and, with a certain amount of consultation, embellish them into a script. On rare occasions, writers have come up with their own ideas, as D. C. Fontana did for "Legacies" in the first season, Laurence G. DiTillio did several times in the first two years, and Neil Gaiman and Harlan Ellison have done for the fifth year. Most of the time, however, it is executive producer Joe Straczynski who writes the scripts.

Sometimes Joe will sit down at the word processor and produce a script within three days. The current record is one day to write Season Five's "A View from the Gallery." The result, however, represents much more than a day's work, as he will have been thinking about it long before his fingers ever touched the keyboard. "It's like a dog chewing through a bone," he says. "The writing process is hardly ever clean and precise. I have a concept or a story in which X has to happen, but the shape of it is unclear. It's like looking through a glass of the wrong prescription. If it's not quite there, then, over the next week, few days, months, whatever time I have, I'll chew through that subconsciously. Every once in a while I'll be watching a movie or watching television or half asleep in bed, and all of a sudden the back of my brain will go ka-ching [like a cash register] and something will pop up. It can be very disconcerting when Kathryn [his wife] and I are sitting having a conversation, and in the middle of a sentence, I'll stop, go into fugue state, reach over, grab a piece of paper, write something down, then go back to the sentence where I'd left it off. But it means I suddenly have a piece of dialogue worked out."

These notes are essential reminders to unlock the ideas in his head. Some writers carry a notebook with them and diligently jot down any ideas they have in a neat and orderly fashion. Joe is more of a back-of-an-envelope kind of guy. "Yeah, unfortunately, I'm not terribly well organized in that respect," he admits. "My office is covered in Post-it notes and scraps of paper and crap which you look at and think, 'This guy's office is very messy,' but all those pages contain a fragment of dialogue or a description of a scene or a character note and I know where they all are, I know what every one of them means. I may pick it up, and it'll have just three words on it which are designed to remind me of an entire long speech, but I only need those three words. The same way that you only need to have a few words from the speeches of Shakespeare, and you know the rest of it automatically."

From there, Joe Straczynski will occasionally write an outline that consists of no more than a page listing the beats of the episode and placing them within the six-part structure of an American television episode--the teaser, four acts, and a tag. This is generally the case with a more complex episode that has several story threads. With the episode all set out on one page, it is easier to see that, perhaps, some material has to be taken out of act 3 and put into act 2. This is the usual format for writing for television, especially when scripts have to be approved by producers further up the line. The story will be discussed at outline stage, then a treatment will be written that breaks it down scene by scene, and once that has been discussed and approved, the script merely fills in the details.

Joe rarely works that way, even when writing for people on other shows because he feels it stifles originality. Instead, he moves from outline to script--if he bothers to outline at all--preferring to keep the writing process a journey of discovery. "The saying is, 'The writer must surprise himself if he has any chance of surprising the audience.' And so I go into each episode with the notion that no outline ever survives contact with the enemy--which is the writing of the script. In some cases, the less I have outlined, the better the script has been, because you leave yourself open to the characters coming in and making suggestions and taking the show off in different directions (or that part of your brain that becomes that character for the purposes of that conversation). In many cases, I'll sit down with no notes. I'll know this is an interim episode and sometimes even when it is an arc episode, if it's an important episode in the arc, I will have gone through it in my head so many times leading up to it that the actual writing of it happens in five minutes. There were several episodes this past season [Season Four] where I wrote the script in three days without any notes or outlines because I'd been thinking about it for four years."

The result is the writer's draft. "I'll take about a day to look at it, and I'll think, Can I clarify this? Tighten that? I just go through and clarify a little bit here and there and tighten all the screws, make sure the bolts are on straight, and then when it's published as the first-draft script, that is it. The only things that happen after that are production changes. My feeling is I wrote it right the first time, and nothing much is going to be gained by going back and tinkering with it, unless someone finds a massive logic flaw, which is pretty rare."

The first person to see the script after that is producer John Copeland. He will occasionally make comments about its creative content, but his primary role is to cast a production eye over the material and point out anything that he thinks will be a problem from the production point of view. "We're a little bit like a Chinese menu," John explains. "We can take one from column A, one from column B, one from column C, or we can do two from column A, two from B, or we can do one from A and B and two from C. We can deal with guest cast and stunts and sets or we can deal with guest cast, extras, and sets, but we can't deal with all of those four elements together. That can become very difficult for us because of the economics. If we've got lots of sets that are moving around, it's hard to have three hundred extras, because the extras fill the hallways when they're in between shots. Also, if we've just had an episode that's got a lot of visual effects in it, it makes it very difficult to have the next episode be a visual-effects bone crusher because we've only got so many resources."

If there are any alterations to be made, they will be included in the first draft that is then handed out to a select number of people: the department heads, director, and production manager. If there are any new characters, costumes, and prosthetics, the design process will get rolling, as will the production design department if there are any new sets. All this takes place with reference to Joe Straczynski who is kept informed and is consulted throughout. It is all part of what he terms "the utility of one voice," which he tries to maintain by being involved with every aspect of the production, from the writing to the final edit and the music.

"If you look at the show and you see a Narn and you hear about the Narn culture and, eventually, you see the Narn homeworld, the homeworld matches what you imagine it would look like because I have sat down with everyone and made sure that the climate matches the clothing they tend to wear, which matches the skin they would happen to have, which matches the language they would happen to develop in that place. If you went to the Narn homeworld, for instance, and it looked like Minbar, your brain would say that doesn't fit, this doesn't belong with that. If you had diverse hands working on things without any kind of supervision, you would have that kind of possibility arising. My job is to work with all the departments to make sure it's consistent throughout. I try, though, not to let that go too far and be micromanaging people because nothing is won by that except to cause frustration."

The various departments work in different ways when preparing an episode. For Ann Bruice-Aling, who is the costume designer and in charge of wardrobe, a meeting with Joe is the first step. "I always make a list of questions based on each episode I read," she says. "Some of them are purely logistic, like, How many of these guys do you think we're going to need? Then the ones that are new characters, we'll talk about what he sees about the character, if there's any input he wants to give me before I attack. Then I go off and do research from a bunch of sources, period stuff and different things that I have stashed away. Like with the Drakh emissary [in Season Four's "Lines of Communication"], that was totally new, something that we hadn't done. We'd never seen that before, and so I did a lot of research and compiled that, then I went back and talked to him about the approach. Then I do a pencil drawing, and sometimes I paint them."

John Vulich, who designs the prosthetic makeup for the alien characters, approaches his side of things in a similar way. Like Ann, he starts with the script. "We try and glean whatever we can from the description of the character to try and work out what kind of style or demeanor for the creature or alien would work for this type of scene in the script. On another level, we try and gauge its longterm position in the script or within the arc, and that involves meeting with Joe. 'What do you have in store for this character somewhere down the line?'--it's something we always have to ask him. It quite frequently happens that Joe will introduce a character and he will have either a benevolent or an evil demeanor, and it's very often with his style of writing that by the time you're done with that character it's always the exact opposite of what you think he is. Deathwalker in the first season is the prime example of that, and they were very particular about the design because they wanted a design that was capable of going in either direction. So it's all kind of figuring out what kind of design is suitable to this and how it fits into the context dramatically, because, ultimately, what we're doing is building something that will support the story and the drama of it all. And the show's quite tricky in that way, which makes it fun, actually, because it's challenging when you do those kind of designs. It's easy to do a monster, but it's harder to do something that could be perceived as a monster, but later on you realize he's really your friend."

It is much the same with set and prop design, which is part of the art department, and headed by production designer John Iacovelli. "Usually Joe is so specific in his descriptions in the script that I don't usually talk to him first," he says. "Although we usually show him and John either the concept sketch or the white models before we show them to the director. Joe has a very open-door policy, and we run every prop by him and every set decorating spec. He's very involved with the show. It's more rare than it's frequent that he'll object or change something."

While all the designing is going on, the production manager is working out the filming schedule. Scenes have to be grouped together to form the most efficient and practical arrangement possible. "I sit and juggle them around," explains Skip Beaudine, who joined as production manager in Season Three. "I'll go through and get all the scenes that are shot in a particular set and put them together, and then I move those around to fill out a day. I'll take, say, all of the Observation Dome and all of Sheridan's office scenes, and I'll put them together and that will make a day's work. Then I've got to determine what cast are in those scenes, and if I'm starting any guest cast, I'll try to keep all their work within a couple of days, because once they start, you pay them daily until they are finished even if they don't work." That becomes the rough draft for the schedule, which is likely to change when the director comes on board. He or she may, for example, want to spend more time on one scene than the production manager had envisaged, or cast an actor who is available only for certain days in the week.

The director, having had the script for several weeks, comes in seven days before filming is due to start for his or her official preparation period. The first job is usually casting. For a typical episode with a couple of extra characters, this will take only two or three hours, but it could take longer if they don't find anyone suitable in the first run or if it's a major character like Cartagia or Dukhat, when actors can be asked back for a second audition. The rest of the week is taken up with a series of meetings, both formal and informal. The most important of these are the art department meeting, the visual-effects meeting, and the main production meeting, which is attended by all the departments, the director, the production manager, Joe Straczynski, and producer John Copeland. "We'll go through the script scene by scene," explains John, "discuss requirements, extras, stunts, practical effects, the blue screen's got to be in position, and stuff like that. All of those things are talked about to make sure everyone's got the lay of the land for that episode."

When considering an action scene, for example, the costume department will need to know if a character is going to be shot and, therefore, need a bullet hole in the costume. The logistics of the scene will also have to fit onto the set, so John Iacovelli presents at the meeting scale models of every new set and a pack of scale drawings and notes. "The key here is information," he says. "One of the hallmarks of the show, that has made it such a good show to work on, is that everybody knows what's going on, no one's in the dark, no one shows up and doesn't know what to expect. From the art department, we really try to show people where walls are going to be and how things are going to work."

Then the departments turn in their budgets to the production manager, whose job it is to keep an eye on the money. He may have to negotiate with several people in order to keep costs in check. "The art department may design a set that will cost three or four thousand dollars more than we have in the budget," says Skip, taking an example. "Now if I can't take it out of somewhere else, I'll go to the art department and say, 'Okay, what can we do to cut this down?' They tell me, 'The director has told us he would like these certain requirements.' I'll then go to the director and say, 'Listen, we're over a little bit. Where can we cut?' I just start going to the different people, and we whittle it down. You kinda gotta be a psychologist in this job. You're dealing with a lot of people, and everybody's working toward the same thing, and you're trying to put the best possible thing on the screen. My job is to make sure that they don't go overboard. Sometimes it gets a little hard, sometimes they've got visions of something really beautiful and big and large scale, and that's not what we can do sometimes."

John Vulich recalls one of the negotiating rounds in the fourth season when a host of Minbari extras were needed for an episode. "I thought we'd do about thirty," he says. "And they go, 'Oh, I thought we'd do forty or fifty,' and I go, 'Well ...' Then it was, 'How about sixty?' and I go, 'Look, we can do it; we'll do sixty. Twenty of them might look wonderful, the middle twenty might look fifty-fifty type of thing, where they're done quickly, and the back twenty will be really slapped together, they won't be intended for close-ups.' It's always kind of negotiating things, and then they'll run that by the director, 'Look, can we shoot it this way and stage it carefully, so the really good ones are up front and the midground ones in the background?" and he'll figure out how he's shooting that scene."

One of the advantages of having the script so far ahead of time is that it allows time for people to consider things and prepare. Babylon 5 generally circulates its first draft four weeks before shooting, unlike most productions, which usually manage to bring out a script little more than a week in advance. Only on the very rarest of occasions will this system trip itself up, as with the advance work done for the EarthDome corridors for the fourth season's "Endgame." "That was a big set, so we had to get started on it early before the budget was approved," remembers John Iacovelli. "The production manager came to us and said, 'You know, this is a big set and not much happens in it except people go back and forth, we want to cut this; we'll just do it as them coming in the doors.' The art director said, 'We could, but we've actually bought most of that material and the set's mostly built.' We have to work so fast that we're often working on things before they get approved, but in that case, we had no choice. When that set was up and standing, the production manager came to us, and even though it was over the budget, he came to us--the first time he's ever done this--and said, 'You know, that set was really worth it.' That kind of made us feel good on that one."

While all these practical matters are being sorted out, there is a small meeting that is vital to ensuring that the director is on the same wavelength as Joe Straczynski and John Copeland in terms of their vision of the episode. "We discuss each scene, the tone of each scene, scene by scene," explains director David Eagle. "We talk about stuff like the dark aspect of either the entire show or the particular scene or the way in which Joe expects lines to be delivered or the way the look of that scene should be or the lighting of that scene. All of those kinds of things are discussed in great detail before I do any of my final preparation."

The director's final preparation is essential if filming is going to go smoothly. To take David Eagle as an example, he has a meticulous approach and plans each shot in great detail. He'll write down the moves of the actors and the camera, and will often draw a diagram, too. Different directors work in different ways. David always likes to have a couple of other options up his sleeve for each scene just in case something unexpected happens--and it often does. "I plan every shot for the entire show before we shoot the first scene," he says. "The way I plan my script is, I physically cut my script up with my scissors and place it together in the shooting schedule format so that my script looks like the shooting schedule. Then I write on the page next to it--if you have your script open, the righthand side has your script, the lefthand side is the back of the previous page and it's blank--and I write all my script notes and shot lists on each of those pages. And all of that is done before I set foot on the set the first day."

When it comes to filming, the first unfortunate people in are the actors who require prosthetic makeup and their makeup artists. This is usually at four or five o'clock in the morning, although it could be as early as three a.m. If it is a big day, like in the fourth season where one of the episodes required sixty Minbari, extra people will be brought in to help put on the makeup. "It's all planned out like a battle ahead of time," says John Vulich, who is in charge of prosthetics at Optic Nerve. "We'll bring in eight at this time, and then the next hour bring in another eight. Then we'll bring in six at another hour, and two guys go to the set to do touch-ups. It's all plotted out, and oftentimes--as overkill as it might sound--I plan a lot of it on the spreadsheet of the computer. I try to plan a day out with how many there are at a given hour, how many makeups they can do, and who can I shift over to a different part of the set to do touch-ups."

It is a similar story over at costumes, except they don't have to get up quite so early. There are two people permanently assigned to the set, a third who helps out if necessary, and an additional group of wardrobe assistants brought in for the days when there are a lot of extras. "They have to get everything ready, so when the actors come in, they just go to their trailers and the clothes for the first thing they are shooting are there," says Ann Bruice-Aling, who is in charge of costumes. "Then they keep outer garments with them on set on the rack, so they don't get any more destroyed than they need be. Then they just keep track of continuity and making sure if a cuff was unbuttoned in the beginning of the scene it's still unbuttoned at the end of the scene, or if they go back to do another take, that everything is in the same position. It's very tedious, but it's also very crucial. I could never be on set; I would go nuts. You sit around for a long time doing nothing, then all of a sudden twelve thousand things need to be done in twelve seconds!"

The biggest days for costumes are when hordes of extras need to be dressed in the right clothes. Sometimes it can be quite an operation if the extras start off the day as Drazi and need to be changed halfway through to security personnel, creating the impression that there are twice as many people on Babylon 5 as have been hired. Organization on days like these is crucial, and that's where a voucher system makes life a lot easier. "They get vouchers from central casting when they come in, and that's how they get paid at the end of the day," Ann explains. "They have to turn their vouchers in to wardrobe, and they don't get them back again until they've come back to wardrobe and wardrobe gets all the pieces back. And the same thing with props. On the back of the vouchers the staff write what pieces they've given the extras, so when they come back they can say, 'Excuse me, but I know that we gave you a Psi Corps pin,' and they don't get their voucher back unless they give it back."

It is somewhat different for the art department because they are dealing with objects rather than people, although there is always a set dresser, painter, and prop person on the spot to keep an eye on things. Production designer John Iacovelli is generally busy working on forthcoming episodes, but he will visit the set from time to time during filming. "If it's a new set, I usually try to be there to open up the set in the morning," he says. "Mornings are really critical with what happens for the rest of the day because frequently that's the first time that the DP [director of photography] and the gaffer [in charge of lighting] will have seen the set. They are so busy shooting the show that they don't often have time to come see the set ahead of time. Usually, two or three days before, we'll bring them over with the director, and we'll show them what's going to happen. Sometimes it's the first time they've ever seen the set so there can be a lot of changes very quickly."

Filming lasts seven days (or six as of Season Five), and the outcome of that is several hours of raw footage. The film is given to one of the show's three editors to produce a first edit, and then the director comes in a couple of days later to adjust the episode to his vision. "Usually, I walk in and the show is two or three minutes long," says director David Eagle. "A lot of what I do is cut and trim. Some of what I do is replacing entire scenes because I don't like [the version of] the scene the editor chose and I prefer this other scene, or I want something cut out of a scene. Occasionally, especially if I'm very long, I will take a shot at doing line cuts, where I'm actually cutting out lines of dialogue and trying to make it work even though that's not the way it's scripted. If I've done a really good job, then Joe will accept it, if I haven't, Joe will put those lines back in and cut other lines out, and that's happened both ways with me. If you're very long, if you submit a show that's two or three or nine minutes long, then Joe and John are going to cut the hell out of that show, and you kind of leave yourself open. Once you see your show, it's not going to look much like what you had intended it to look like. But if you're much closer to time, I have found there's less for them to cut. If you've done a really good job and thought about the way Joe Straczynski thinks--and I've tried, and sometimes I succeed and sometimes I don't--then you're going to be very close to what your cut was."

It has to be said, however, that most of the directors don't try to cut their episodes down, preferring to present the producers with their vision in full. It is then, during the producers' cut, that they agonize over getting the episode down (or, on rare occasions, up) to time--and it has to be accurate to the minute, the second, and the frame. Joe Straczynski and John Copeland will usually spend about a day with the editor of the episode, making any changes they see fit. This is before the CGI (computer-generated) effects have been done, and the episode is often interspersed with sections of blank screen with a special-effects shot number written on it. The length of these effects shots has to be determined at this stage, and this is often achieved by Joe reading out the descriptions in the script while John enacts the moving spaceships with his hands. It may sound strange, but somehow it gives them a pretty good idea of how many frames to reserve for computer graphics.

An effects spotting session usually comes next, where all the postproduction CGI effects are discussed with the supervisor and the chief animator. This will be followed by an audio spotting session to sort out the music and sound effects. "The effects editor, the sound supervisor, and Christopher Franke, our composer, will sit down with Joe and I in the conference room at Babylonian Productions," says John Copeland. "We'll be joined by George Johnson [in charge of postproduction up to and including Season Four], and we'll go through the episode on a start and stop basis, from the front to the back, and call out the in-point for music and the out-point for music. Simultaneously, we'll also be calling out specific needs for sound effects, like if there needs to be a door shut here, if there needs to be a particular sound of something we need there, and we go through the show on that basis. If the show has a lot of effects and we have a lot of slates for missing shots in there, we will wait a bit of time to allow for the shots to get dumped in."

This is the first time composer Christopher Franke will have seen the episode, although he will have been thinking about it from having read the script. He will take this opportunity to speak to Joe Straczynski about the musical tone for the episode. "We discuss the thematic content, and we exchange ideas," he says. "Joe typically gives me a lot of freedom so I can come up with my own ideas. It's like a big plateau for experimentation. It's like a gigantic playground to search for new sounds or new interpretations."

All the music is specially written for Babylon 5 on an episode-by-episode basis. This is the method that has been adapted by most U.S. television shows, which have evolved a more cinematic look in recent years. Television drama previously made sparse use of incidental music, quite often using a selection of prerecorded pieces, so every time there was a chase scene, for example, the same music would recur. Music is now much more an integral part of a show, and Babylon 5 uses more music than most. The progress of technology has also helped composers, enabling them to use a time-coded videotape to make their music inserts accurate to a thirtieth of a second.

"The whole music studio is totally in sync with the picture," says Chris Franke. "Within the scene you've hundreds of little timing adjustments and ideas, and it's probably more detailed than the viewer can imagine, otherwise the effect isn't there. If you want to do an accent, probably you think it would be at the same time as you see it, but the head works differently. I think the brain works a little bit quicker than it listens because sometimes you feel it's in sync even though the sound is a fraction of a second later. Sometimes the sound is effective if it's forewarning you, so it's a whole experience level of psycho-sounds, psychological hearing. A composer learns it by instinct. One day you cannot explain anymore why you do it, it just feels so right."

Part of the music is played by Chris Franke himself on electronic keyboards in his studio; the rest is recorded by the Berlin Symphonic Film Orchestra. It might seem a little extreme to go all the way to Europe for the music, but it is surprisingly efficient. First, Chris has a good working relationship with the people, but more important, it is easier to book the orchestra for short periods of time at short notice. In contrast, Los Angeles-based orchestras tend to be booked up way in advance because of all the work provided by the Hollywood film industry. They also want to be paid for at least a three-hour session, even when the work may take only a third of that time.

The next step is to mix the episode on a dubbing stage, in order to blend all the music, dialogue, and sound effects. "That's always fun," says John Copeland. "It sounds so good in the mix room--big nasty speakers and we play it really loud. We mix a really dynamic sound track that is probably the most dynamic track on American television at the moment. We're barely legal, we're so loud. But it's still fun. I like it when things make me vibrate!"

At the same time, the finishing touches are being put to the visual aspects of the show. The special effects have been added by this point and the episode is put through a digital color-balancing process. This makes the episode look uniform from scene to scene and allows for any subtle color changes that need to be made for dramatic purposes, like changing a scene from day to night.

The title sequence and credits are added, then the audio track is laid on the color master. Babylonian Productions makes two copies, one for themselves and another for Warner Bros., which is sent off with the original ready to be broadcast.

Once that has been done twenty-two times, the season is complete. Babylon 5's Fourth Season

It seemed for a long time that the fourth season of Babylon 5 would be its last. Although the door was never finally closed, the possibility hung over the production throughout the filming of Season Four, putting the original five-year story plan in jeopardy. In light of that, it seemed foolish to carry on regardless, assuming that the television executives would come to their senses and renew for another season. The only option was to bring the story to a satisfactory ending, resolve the main story threads, collapse a few others, and isolate the planned year five threads. That meant that creator and executive producer J. Michael Straczynski undertook, once again, to write the whole season himself.

"If you look at the structure of a given season," he explains, "what tends to be the case is that threads are set up within the course of a given season which [culminate] in a cliffhanger. Those threads are played out in the first four or five episodes of the new season, which wraps up the previous season and begins the next arc. It's a series of overlapping bricks. If you look at a wall, you'll see the bricks aren't lined up, they're staggered, one bleeds over to the next and over to the next and so on, and that's how I built Babylon 5. So what I had to do, therefore, was to move over those four or five episodes that would be hanging over into Season Five, resolving Season Four threads. Initially, Season Four would have ended with 418 ["Intersections in Real Time"] because that's a good cliffhanger; you've got Sheridan sitting in the box. You've got him sitting there until the next season begins and you get him out of the box, and you then start the process of starting the movement that gets the Earth thread going. I had to move that forward in the story line, so that 421 ['Rising Star'] would be a clear break. There was all this stuff that I had planned to do in year five, in any event, waiting to go, but it was a clean separation. If it did end with Four, viewers would walk away feeling satisfied, because we had enough material to end the storyline and the main threads would have been resolved, so I could walk away feeling the time invested was worthwhile. As opposed to if we didn't get renewed and we didn't play out those threads, people would end up feeling very unsatisfied, having spent four years watching the show without getting an ending. We promised people an ending; by God, I was going to give them one."

Perhaps it is better to watch the series without knowing this behind-the-scenes detail and perceiving the faster pace to be a natural progression. That is certainly the case if one thinks of how the series has moved from the mostly stand-alone episodes in Season One to the first signs of movement in the story arc in Season Two and the major turns in Season Three. Season Four merely intensifies that storytelling approach. There is an enormous amount going on, particularly in the first six episodes, and sometimes it is difficult for the audience to keep up.

By episode four, for example, the tables have already turned against the Vorlons. After such a long buildup, from aliens of mystery to angels, and then to allies, this change in the viewers' perceptions seems to have happened overnight. That is not to say that its inevitability was not planted in previous episodes. From Deathwalker's murder to Season Two's "Comes the Inquisitor," when the Vorlons sent a torturer to question Delenn, their benevolence was under question. But even at the beginning of the fourth season, Delenn still believes that they are on her side, believes that they will persuade the League of Non-Aligned Worlds to keep their military alliance together and that they will attempt to rescue Sheridan. When the new Kosh turns his back on her, it confirms that the Vorlons have no one's interest at heart other than their own. But to move against Kosh within four episodes of this was uncomfortably quick, especially when compared to the way Sheridan gradually built a relationship with the first Kosh back in Season Two. There were just so many issues that couldn't be addressed in the time, and Patricia Tallman, who plays Lyta Alexander, admits later in this book that she had some ethical problems over what her character was doing.

The aspect of the plot that many feel was rushed, however, was the end of the Shadow War, which came only six episodes into the season. This wasn't helped by its debut showing in the United States where the broadcasts of episodes four and five were separated by a two-month break, meaning the war had hardly got going again before it was over.

The original plan was to conclude the war in two and a half episodes. This was reduced to just the one, "Into the Fire," in order to make room for events coming up later in the season. It was unfortunate because the issues that had been building over the course of more than three years were concluded within the space of forty-four minutes, hardly giving the audience time to pause for breath. There are three big movements in this episode, each highly significant, sending out resonances back into the history of the series and clarifying some of the questions that had been posed from the beginning. The first is the conflict between Shadow and Vorlon philosophies. Then the Shadows and Vorlons are confronted with their own questions, "Who are you?" and "What do you want?" and realize they don't know the answers anymore. Lorien persuades them and the other First Ones to leave the galaxy, and the younger races are left on their own to embark on the new age referred to in Season One's opening narration. These steps are so momentous in the show that they deserved to have been explored in more depth.

Joe Straczynski doesn't believe anything would have been gained, fundamentally, by allowing the Shadow War to play out across three episodes as originally planned. "All you would be adding there is extra battle sequences," he says. "You aren't really taking it much further because at the heart of it, the Shadow War was a philosophical disagreement." But somehow there is not the emotional power that accompanied other major turning points in Babylon 5, such as Season Three's "Severed Dreams," in which the conflict with Earth is personalized for Sheridan through his conversation with his father and his difficulty in making a stand against his own government.

The matter is, perhaps, best put into perspective by actor Bruce Boxleitner, who plays Sheridan. "I know that some fans wanted it drawn out more," he reflects, "but I think it's time to get it on. I actually like this season more because as the plot started happening, it got more relentless as we went, less stand-alone episodes and more arc." That is precisely what the first six episodes are doing, and even though the pace is too relentless at times, they form a satisfying mini-sequence as the characters are propelled toward war.

Self-contained within these first six episodes are Londo's moves to rid his people of the mad emperor that he helped put on the throne. Emperor Cartagia breathes a wonderful sense of freshness into Babylon 5 with his eccentricity and liveliness, which are in marked contrast to Londo's seriousness. But the beauty of the character is that beneath this apparently harmless, funloving exterior is a man of horror. He has a delusional dream of becoming a god and believes that the Shadows are able to fulfill that dream on his behalf. He is obviously quite mad, but it is not his madness that makes him a danger, it is his power. Cartagia has no qualms about sacrificing the whole Centauri population to achieve godhood for himself, and if Londo is to reverse that, he must team up with G'Kar.

Perhaps it is a leap of logic to believe that G'Kar would have left Babylon 5 to search for Garibaldi, but G'Kar is never one to sit still when something has to be done, and as he tells Marcus, he believes he can take care of himself. In any case, G'Kar and Londo have been linked at every turn, and it is fate that maneuvers them into a position where they must work together to help their respective peoples. It brings with it a great opportunity for more tension and conflict between these two, which mostly takes place in G'Kar's cell, a setting that adds an extra dynamic to the scenes. Here is G'Kar chained to the wall, beaten and tortured to a point where he should be at his weakest. Instead, he displays a resilience and pride that outshines Londo, who should be in a position of strength. When Londo walks into the cell, however, he seems almost afraid of the Narn in front of him, knowing he must ask his enemy for help and that if he refuses, it will mean death and destruction for the Centauri.

Several questions set up earlier in the series are resolved within this story thread. The glimpse of Shadow vessels swarming across Centauri Prime that Londo foresaw in a dream becomes reality, with a slight costume change to make the two images match (which proves that even ambassadors have to have their coats washed sometimes!). This image originally seemed like it was a Shadow invasion, but in reality, it is a greater horror because the Shadows are arriving at the request of Emperor Cartagia. Londo also discovers that it was Morden who killed his beloved Adira and manipulated him to return to the Shadows at a time when he had sought to distance himself from them. It brings Londo to a greater darkness, and although he attempts to redeem himself by killing Morden, conspiring to kill Cartagia, and saving Centauri Prime, he does not save himself and says that he envies Vir for having the heart to feel remorse at killing the emperor when he himself does not.

At the end of these six busy episodes, Babylon 5 slows down a little and starts to put into place everything that will play out in the rest of the season. "Epiphanies" is more of a traditional Babylon 5 episode, building expectation for what is to come. Most of the main story threads are here: Garibaldi's resignation, Bester's interest in Lyta, a reminder of the telepaths in cryonic suspension, President Clark's opposition to the station, and servants of the Shadows flee-ing Z'ha'dum. "Epiphanies" admirably answers anyone who wondered what could be left to say after the war was over, by building intrigue and excitement over a range of new story threads.

"Epiphanies" begins the middle segment of episodes that lead up to the beginning of action against Earth in "No Surrender, No Retreat." They are somewhat of a mixture, ranging from the excellent "Atonement" to the disappointing "The Illusion of Truth." "Atonement" addresses the nagging suspicion of Delenn's involvement in the Earth-Minbari War, sometimes hinted at but never explained. The episode works so well because Delenn is forced to face her own past mistakes, and because of the freedom science fiction allows the storyteller, she watches the whole unfortunate incident replayed in front of her. Delenn does so with Lennier at her side, finally having to admit to a close friend that she gave the order to retaliate against Earth forces, a decision that caused the deaths of many Humans and Minbari. At the same time, it gives the audience an insight into her character, how this one decision affected her life, with her guilt almost certainly explaining why she embraced prophecy so wholeheartedly and came to Babylon 5. The performances are also exceptional, with Mira Furlan being totally convincing as the shy, young Delenn, devoted to Dukhat. Dukhat is played by German actor Reiner Schone, whose accent beautifully complements Mira's and whose screen presence explains why Dukhat was so revered by the Minbari people, even after his death. A triumph for the writing and production teams.

"The Illusion of Truth" doesn't work nearly as well. While the idea of exposing the media's capacity to twist the truth is a good one, the execution of the idea doesn't do it justice. It lacks the subtlety that would have made ISN's news report shocking because the journalist's motives are clear from the outset. It is also uncharacteristically slow, with a lengthy piece from the newscaster at the end that, in a contemporary twentieth-century news broadcast, would not have continued without cutting away to some other footage. It isn't a patch on the previous ISN story "And Now for a Word," which is unfortunate because it has an important message to tell and a place in the story arc. It may look like a stand-alone episode at first glance, but it is important to explain why later in the series there is such opposition to Sheridan on Earth.

The mixture continues over the next few episodes, varying in terms of achievement and tone. "Racing Mars" includes the explosive character clash between Sheridan and Garibaldi that is shocking in its outcome and all the better for it. Marcus and Franklin's journey to Mars also works well, with entertaining banter between the two characters and an effective twist with Captain Jack turning from a playful roguish character into a tragic one. Delenn's confrontation with the Drakh in "Lines of Communication" is more simplistic and, therefore, less engaging. It is not helped by the Drakh emissary, who still looks like a monster of the week despite efforts to the contrary. Then there is "Conflicts of Interest," a great turn for Garibaldi as he deals with conflicting emotions when Lise, his former fiancee, arrives on Babylon 5, while tension continues between him and Sheridan. "Rumors, Bargains and Lies" highlights the in-fighting inside Minbari society. Then the Minbari thread reaches a satisfying climax in "Moments of Transition," with a huge set piece for Delenn as she prepares to sacrifice herself for peace, while back on the station Lyta is forced to wear the symbol and gloves of the Psi Corps. The season then takes its second turn in "No Surrender, No Retreat," as Sheridan moves his attention toward Earth.

The evolution of Sheridan and how this intersects with the changes in Garibaldi makes for one of the most compelling threads of the season. He is, as many characters observe, different when he comes back from Z'ha'dum. Seeing his own death brought him face-to-face with his own mortality and focuses his attention on the life he has left. He is very aware that he is living on borrowed time, with only twenty years' of Lorien's life energy to sustain him through everything he wants to achieve. It makes him more determined than he was before, more dictatorial, forging ahead without letting anyone question his actions. He decides that the Vorlon ambassador must be forced to leave and takes action without discussion; he decides the Vorlons and the Shadows must be made to face each other to end the conflict and announces it to the Alliance as a fait accompli; and when he has an idea of how to manipulate the other races into agreeing to let the White Star fleet patrol their borders, he carries it out without letting anyone else in on his plan.

The first two of these actions almost certainly occur because of Lorien's influence. Sheridan returns from Z'ha'dum, bringing this alien with him, and expects him to be accepted on his say-so. The only one who greets this with some skepticism is Garibaldi, who, from the very beginning, watches Lorien with a suspicious eye. This is the first hint of the tension that is to increase between these two, but at no point can Garibaldi's accusations be said to be without foundation.

Sheridan's actions are questionable at many turns, and this sets up a debate that continues throughout the season. The most obvious ethical question is his use of telepaths to cripple EarthForce ships, which is directly addressed on several occasions. Even as they are being activated, Franklin expresses his own moral conflict about it to a member of the Mars resistance. They are being sent into battle through no choice of their own, being used in the fight just like weapons without any respect for their Humanity. It is a terrible thing, but the alternative is much worse. If the telepaths do not take control of the computers on the ships, the conflict will have to be resolved through an exchange of firepower, killing many on both sides. The sacrifice of thirty telepaths to save the lives of thousands is the lesser of two evils. It is the same with Sheridan's decisions to kill the second Kosh, to order Ranger Ericsson to lead his White Star crew on a suicide mission in the Shadow conflict, and to launch a military coup against President Clark to stop his destroying civilian ships.

The Sheridan who makes these difficult decisions is not quite the Sheridan who made the decision to break away from Earth in Season Three. The man who showed great doubts in attacking his own people and even hesitated on firing on his old ship, the Agamemnon, in "Messages from Earth" has fewer of these doubts now. This harder Sheridan, more certain of the path he must follow, is prepared to do whatever is necessary, and having already made that stand once, he finds it easier to do so again.

While Sheridan is showing his strength and resolution as a military leader, the softer side of his character is still visible. The most significant aspect of this is his relationship with Delenn, which continues to reveal his Human frailties. When he presents Delenn with an engagement ring, for example, he is full of childlike excitement and so nervous he can't quite remember where he put it. Then, when he offers her the ring, he rambles on about buying it in the Zocalo instead of explaining what this Human ritual is all about. These tender moments with Delenn help to keep the audience sympathetic toward him even when he takes a reactionary stance against Garibaldi, which he does in "Conflicts of Interest," and when he shows harshness and indifference toward Lyta, which he does after she sends a telepathic self-destruct signal to Z'ha'dum by asking her to move into smaller quarters. They also form a contrast and a balance with the intensity of the situations he faces, particularly toward the end of the season, when he is imprisoned and tortured.

Sheridan is warned against going to Mars to meet with Garibaldi, and yet he goes. He does it because of his love for his father and, perhaps, because coming back from the dead and winning a war make him feel almost invincible. It leads to his capture by the enemy and the ultimate trial for Sheridan. He must face up to everything he has done: splitting from Earth, falling in love with an alien, and turning against his own government. He must find within himself the strength to resist terrible physical and mental torture through his absolute belief in the justice of his actions and his cause. "Intersections in Real Time" is an unforgettable episode with a shocking brutality achieved without exceeding television guidelines for violence. The claustrophobic interaction between the interrogator and his prisoner gives the episode a power that could not have been achieved without such a stark setting and bold technique.

Garibaldi is the one responsible for Sheridan's capture, and it is Garibaldi's story that excels in Season Four. Despite two major conflicts that determine the future of the galaxy and of Humanity, it is this personal story that is the most gripping. The question of what happened to Garibaldi is posed at the beginning of the season, and although he is soon found and returned to Babylon 5, the question does not go away. Instead, it is metaphorically repeated over and over again, and each time a little bit more information is revealed to add to the intrigue. It begins with intense and startling flashes of memory that Garibaldi experiences but seems incapable of admitting to anybody, even himself. It seems that whatever happened to him in the two weeks he was missing from the station is locked inside his head. The appearance of a Psi Cop in one of the flashbacks seems to confirm this. But does that mean he is being controlled by an outside force? Updates in his programming and glimpses into his mind, like drawing a glum face in the steam of his bathroom mirror and the Daffy Duck cartoon in which Bugs Bunny is revealed to be the animator painting Daffy's movements, suggest that he is. But by whom and for what purpose?

These questions are coupled with a change in Garibaldi, marked most notably in his resignation and his distrust of Sheridan. Whether these actions are part of his programming is difficult to determine because Garibaldi's accusations against Sheridan and his reasons for quitting have a great deal of truth about them. It leads the audience through a guessing game of what is and what is not the real Garibaldi. Whatever was done to him, part of the old Garibaldi is still visible, particularly in his relationships with others. His unease at facing Zack is one, but it is his relationship with Lise that is more significant.

How like Babylon 5 to take a character who made a brief appearance three years before and bring her back with a wealth of back story to make a dramatic impact. It is much more effective than the classic television trick of bringing in the old flame for one episode, and then packing her off again. Having seen Garibaldi put through so much pain in losing Lise in the first season's "Babylon Squared," the audience expects the relationship to be restored this time. But that expectation is frustrated when he rejects her in "Conflicts of Interest," letting her go at the end of the episode without even listening to her final message. It is only a denial of his feelings, however, and one that he cannot sustain forever. The audience's expectation is aroused for a second time when Garibaldi's work for Edgars brings him into contact with Lise again in "The Exercise of Vital Powers." Eventually, it is rewarded with the resumption of their relationship and its consummation in "Rising Star."

The audience's response to Garibaldi is in many ways rather contradictory and ironic. On the one hand, the viewer is willing Garibaldi to find happiness with Lise but, on the other, is appalled by his moves against Sheridan. It is the betrayal of a friend that is the central event for Garibaldi in Season Four. All the emotions that are built across the season are played out in their final confrontation, when Garibaldi slaps a tranquilizer pad on Sheridan's hand and watches while his enemies take him down. Clearly, it is Sheridan's trust that is betrayed, but at the same time, Garibaldi is betraying himself and everything he once worked for, including the loyalties and friendships of his recent past. He carries out this final act of treachery with a blank face, the face of a man whose life has been stolen by Bester.

Bester's confrontation with Garibaldi follows, and just as Garibaldi had to betray Sheridan in person to play out the drama in full, so the man who programmed Garibaldi must face him to reveal the depth of that programming. These two sequences make "The Face of the Enemy" one of the highlights of the season, concluding one part of the story and providing answers while laying in consequences for later. For Sheridan, it is the torture he faces in "Intersections in Real Time," and for Garibaldi, it is having to return to his old friends and colleagues, knowing what terrible things he has done. It is, again, a powerful moment, pitting Franklin's and Lyta's instinctive hatred of Garibaldi's actions against the memory of the friend they used to know.

The last three episodes return to the hectic pace of the beginning as Sheridan is busted out of jail and takes the lead in the final stand against Earth. Once more the speed of events leaves little time for reflection. But there is little cause to complain about the roller coaster of events that leads to the end of Season Four. A crowd-pleasing battle, victory for our side, and the resolution of all the main story threads.

Most of the fourth season had been building to this moment, from Franklin's experiments with the frozen telepaths to forging links with the Mars resistance. Even the Shadows' alliance with the higher echelons of EarthGov is not forgotten, with a fleet of Earth destroyers covered in Shadow skin adding an extra element to the battle. The fight itself is full of enough twists and turns to make its ending not an entirely foregone conclusion, and one that is achieved through a series of impressive CGI battle sequences. President Clark's suicide and scorched-earth policy are the final surprising turns that allow Sheridan's forces to save Earth in more ways than one. In the eyes of EarthForce administration, however, Sheridan still committed treason against his own government and is told in no uncertain terms to resign. It is a bittersweet moment for him because he has saved the planet but must still face a personal punishment.

The tragedy that war brings is brought home through Ivanova, who is fatally injured in the fight against the Shadow-enhanced Earth destroyers. Without this emotional core, the battle would have been over-glorified. Instead, Babylon 5 achieves yet another emotionally charged scene as Sheridan tells her she is dying. Then, playing with audience expectations once again, Ivanova is saved at the cost of Marcus's life. The irony here is that he finally confesses that he loves her but on the eve of his death when she cannot respond. She is left with the guilt of his sacrifice and of never being able to acknowledge his affections. There was some doubt over whether it was wise to kill off such a popular character, but without that moment of tragedy, the ending would have been too neat. Not all the problems are resolved--the dark servants of the Shadows are waiting in the wings to strike, as is the Psi Corps--but it is a happy ending for most. President Clark is replaced, Garibaldi finds love with Lise. Sheridan and Delenn get married, and Londo and G'Kar are able, at last, to share a joke.

J. Michael Straczynski promised he would give us an ending to his story, and by God, he gave us one ... and left just enough teasers to suggest that when renewal for a fifth season came at the eleventh hour, there was still a lot more story to tell.

EPISODE 1: "The Hour of the Wolf"

Cast
Captain John Sheridan: Bruce Boxleitner
Commander Susan Ivanova: Claudia Christian
Security Chief Michael Garibaldi: Jerry Doyle
Ambassador Delenn: Mira Furlan
Citizen G'Kar: Andreas Katsulas
Ambassador Londo Mollari: Peter Jurasik
Dr. Stephen Franklin: Richard Biggs
Lennier: Bill Mumy
Marcus Cole: Jason Carter
Lyta Alexander: Patricia Tallman
Vir Cotto: Stephen Furst

Guest Stars
Brakiri Ambassador: Rick Ryan
Drazi Ambassador: Mark Hendrickson
Minister: Damian London
Emperor Cartagia: Wortham Krimmer
Morden: Ed Wasser
Lorien: Wayne Alexander

"The Shadows have paused in their pursuit of war, and the sense of imminent change is everywhere," G'Kar writes in his book. "Whether it is a change for good or ill, no one can tell because no one has yet answered two very important questions: where is Mr. Garibaldi, and what happened to Captain Sheridan?"

Delenn meets with the new Vorlon ambassador, who calls himself "Kosh," anxious about the break up of the alliance they had formed to fight the Shadows. He hasn't been to council meetings to ask the League worlds to reconsider, neither will he send a rescue ship for Sheridan. "He's bled for you, worked for you," Delenn tells him earnestly. "If you abandon him to die on Z'ha'dum, then I have no more respect for you." The Vorlon replies that that is irrelevant and walks away.

Londo, back on Centauri Prime, acting as an adviser to the royal court, steps outside at the insistence of Emperor Cartagia. He enters the Sand Garden where a number of others have gathered and are staring at the sky. Londo shields the sunlight from his eyes and looks up to see a fleet of Shadow vessels and fighters flying overhead, exactly as had been foretold in his dream.

"What have you done?" Londo demands of the emperor. Cartagia turns around with a mischievous smile and explains, quite matter-of-factly, that the Shadows are guests of the Centauri Republic. Londo is incensed; he cannot understand why Cartagia has put their people on the front line like this. Cartagia explains that the Shadows have offered to elevate him to godhood, a cause for which the Centauri people will gladly lay down their lives. Londo sees that the smile, which looked at first sight like that of a mischievous child, is actually the mark of a madman.

Lyta Alexander enters Ivanova's quarters, where, for the seventh night in a row, Ivanova is sitting with a glass of vodka, unable to sleep. Lyta has come to offer what the Vorlons would not: to help find Sheridan. If they go to Z'ha'dum, she believes she can telepathically block any Shadow vessels in the area and maybe sense if Sheridan is alive. Ivanova contacts Delenn, and they assemble a crew aboard the White Star.

The White Star emerges from a jump point near Z'ha'dum, and Lyta's eyes turn black as her mind makes contact with the Shadows. Ivanova sends a signal to the surface. There is no reply, but it alerts the Shadows to their presence. Ivanova moves forward, sensing something that she has felt before and at a place where her mind has been before. A pattern of six glowing Shadow eyes emerge beside the planet and put Ivanova, Delenn, and Lyta into some sort of trance. The White Star suddenly turns and disappears through a jump point in an escape maneuver preprogrammed by Lennier. The crew snap out of their trance, but the trip was all for nothing. There was no signal from Sheridan, and Lyta was unable to sense him.

Somewhere in a stone cavern on Z'ha'dum, a figure sits shrouded in a ratty piece of cloth next to a small fire. He hears an alien figure approaching and looks up. The firelight illuminates his face, and reveals that he is Captain John Sheridan. Sheridan wonders why he is alive and looks uncertainly at the alien.

"Well, that's the question, isn't it?" says the alien as he sits down to share the warmth from the Human's fire.

For Ivanova, hope is all she has as she clings to the slim possibility that Sheridan might be alive, even though reports suggest that he could not have survived going to Z'ha'dum. This is a time when she needs to be strong, when she must bear the responsibility of running the station, but instead, a vulnerability rarely seen in Ivanova is revealed. "I think that it's just one more person in her life that's gone," says actress Claudia Christian. "She's made an emotional attachment to Sheridan. She's told herself not to because of the past, losing her parents, her brother, and everybody else that has left her, and I think this is just one more nail in the coffin. I don't think it was the responsibility of taking over the station when he was supposedly dead that was the difficult thing; I think it was coping with his loss as a person."

Delenn shares Ivanova's hope, but she has one more resource to call upon. She has the Vorlons. They shared in her belief that Sheridan was important to the future, and she was the one who persuaded the first Kosh to save Sheridan when he jumped from an exploding shuttle in "The Fall of Night." She pleads with the new Kosh to rescue him a second time, but she is not prepared for his response. The Vorlon ambassador turns his back on her, explaining that Sheridan's actions at Z'ha'dum have "opened an unexpected door."

Kosh's behavior destroys her respect for the Vorlons and finally shatters the image that they are a benevolent race. These beings, who present themselves as angels to other races, once seemed to have an omnipotent knowledge of the future. They saw themselves manipulating other races to create that future, with Sheridan being central to their plans. The fact that Sheridan can surprise them reveals that they are not quite as all-knowing and unfaltering as they once appeared. They don't know as much as they thought they knew, according to J. Michael Straczynski, the creative force behind Babylon 5. "The thing about the Vorlons is they're very smug and they're very self-satisfied, and they think they have all the bases covered," he says. "They think they will bring in Humans to use as cannon fodder during the war and we'll do what we're told. But they didn't count on the Human capacity for surprise, and what Sheridan does at several turns surprises them. His ability to turn the first Kosh around to help him was certainly not something they had counted on, and when he actually struck at the heart of Z'ha'dum, they saw an opportunity here to get an edge in their war of philosophy, if you will."

With both the League of Non-Aligned Worlds and the Vorlons refusing to mount a rescue attempt for Sheridan, the only chance to recover him from Z'ha'dum comes, unexpectedly, from Lyta Alexander, the Vorlon ambassador's personal assistant. Having witnessed Kosh's forthright dismissal of Delenn, she comes to see Ivanova late at night to suggest that she might be able to sense if Sheridan is still alive. It is the first indication that Lyta's loyalties are being torn between the Vorlons and the Humans. "She is a disciple of the first Kosh; she really thinks the Vorlons are these godlike people," explains actress Patricia Tallman. "But there're things that they do that she doesn't understand. And Sheridan being Sheridan, she looks up to him, she cares what happens to him, she appreciates who he's been. The Vorlons not being willing to help confuses her, and so she steps out a bit on her own."

It leads Ivanova, Delenn, and Lyta to embark on a desperate mission, taking the White Star to Z'ha'dum, even though they know that puts them at risk. Lyta uses her enhanced telepathic powers to keep the Shadow forces at bay. But their power is very strong, and they grip her mind, turning her eyes jet black in an effect achieved by using special contact lenses. "The lenses are really very painful," says Pat Tallman. "They're completely round, and they need to be big enough so they cover the inner and outer part of my eye, so that means they're pressing under the bone. They're too big for my eyeball, and we can only put them in for certain periods of time because my eyes are weeping."

The Shadows do not resort to military force but, instead, use some sort of telepathic siren song to lure the White Star down to the planet. Delenn and Ivanova both see images of their fathers beckoning them to land, a mystical moment suggested to the audience through dialogue rather than showing what they see. "Oftentimes if you show too much and make it too literal, it bogs you down in details," says writer Joe Straczynski. "Someone says, 'It spoke in the voice of my father.' We all hear that voice in our own heads; we don't have to go off and see this thing. It's the difference between the literal and the metaphor. Actually, they're picking up a couple of things at the same time. One is the urge to go down there and land, and when Lyta says there's a voice of infinite sadness down there somewhere, that isn't coming from the Shadows, that's coming from Lorien, but she can't tell them apart at that point. The same with Delenn. They felt something was coming through very strongly. I just didn't want to get too literal about it and show it; that would take away any sense of magic or mystery or metaphor from the equation."

While the questions about Sheridan and, to a lesser extent, Garibaldi, are being explored, a new phase of Londo's story is unfolding on Centauri Prime. Having been recalled to the court, Londo gets to see firsthand the emperor that he helped put on the throne. This character, Cartagia, enlivens every scene he is in with a madness that has obvious parallels with the Roman emperor Caligula. "Caligula is probably the most obvious comparison, hence why I had that name reflect that sound a little bit," says Joe. "I wanted someone who you would be very much in fear of, not because he was rampaging around screaming all the time, but because he was completely and totally arbitrary. Cartagia is governed entirely by whims; he can choose to give you a house in the kingdom or to have you killed. When he tells the guards to take G'Kar's eye, it's a whim, and when they ask which one, it's a detail--'I don't care about the details.' He's done with it now, he's already moved on, and to have someone who is that mercurial was a fun character to get into. Most of the characters in the show tend to be more scheming and manipulative and very smart and are progressing in a clean line. Cartagia is all over the map, and I liked that kind of character in the show."

Right from the start, it is clear what Londo thinks about Cartagia. His words are very reverential, but the way he delivers them reveals that he has no respect for this madman. "The stuff that is immediately indicative of the relationship has to do with the hairstyles, and that's in the very opening scene," says Peter Jurasik, who plays Londo. "They find Londo kind of humorous because he's wearing old style, the old fifties hairstyle. I think that was the first indication that these guys weren't going to get along ... It doesn't take anybody very long to realize he's a total nut. You need to put the straitjacket on when you're moving him in the car because he's totally insane and Mollari knows that. He helped Refa put him on the throne, and one of the reasons they put him on the throne was because he's a goofball. The whole fourth season is about paying back and trying to straighten out past mistakes, and that is just one of them."

At the end of the episode, the questions that it began with remain unanswered. Only G'Kar has asked about Garibaldi and found out nothing, while the White Star mission to Z'ha'dum found no trace of Sheridan. Then, in the last moments, the audience glimpses Sheridan, apparently and inexplicably alive. But how and why he is alive are two questions to which not even he knows the answers.