Chapter 2

WHY are you asking me all these questions?
The power to question is the greatest gift the universe has given her children. For only by questioning the things we see around us can any of us grow. The sense of wonder, of mystery, of puzzles to be solved.... Where would anyone be if we knew the answers to all the questions ever asked? What would there be left to aim for with all the knowledge of the universe at our fingertips?
Not even you know everything?
I am no nearer to knowing the answers to all the mysteries of life than you are. I may have had more time to ponder them, but that has only brought home to me just how little any of us knows.
Then what mystery are you trying to solve now?
You.
What?
Ah. I apologise. Let me be clearer. Nothing is written in stone, as we have said already. There are prophecies spoken of, yes. There are flashes of what is to come, brief hints as we pass the veil of time to look forward or back. But few things are definite, solid, precise. We live, we grow old, we die. That is the truth for all things.
Apart from you.
I will die, in due time. Even the universe herself will die someday. Maybe I will still be here then. I was not the only member of my race born in this place, you know. The first generation of my people.... we do not die as you do, but injury, illness, war.... They have plagued us every bit as much as they do you. I still live only because I have not yet succumbed.
You were saying something about the future.
Ah, yes. My mind wanders from time to time. I do apologise.
Accepted.
As I was saying, nothing is definite, but there are.... patterns that may be traced by those with the skill to do so. Certain divinations, certain paths may be spotted. Through subtle manipulations and delicate calculations it is possible to shape the course of the future as you desire. The Vorlons have grown skilled at this over the many years they have lived. That was why they sent you here, as part of a shaping of the future.
And that's why they saved John?
I assume he is a vital component in the future they wish to shape. But they are not the only ones with that skill. The technomages, the Soul Hunters, the inhabitants of this world, those you know as the Shadows.... all have been trying to mould the course of destiny. The technomages are bound by certain laws of conduct, and the Soul Hunters are still tied to the oaths exacted from them by the Well of Souls. Once, the Vorlons and the Shadows were bound by oaths, but they have long since forgotten such things.
What oath?
Why, to protect and to guide the younger races. As the majority of the First Ones left this galaxy to pass beyond the Rim to the next, they chose to remain, shepherds to the younger races. Each advocated a different path: chaos and struggle and endeavour on the one hand; precise order and discipline on the other.
But.... they failed?
Over time it became simply a matter of proving which side was right. <sigh> It is a terrible thing when your children fight. They have forgotten the way. Some of the Vorlons remembered, but I felt the passing of the last one not long ago. I met him once, Kosh. You have as well.
Yes. He was.... a part of me.
I know. He remembered. He was one of the last. Now Vorlon and Shadow war indiscriminately, forgetting their original purpose. Their wars will not last forever, though. An ending will come soon, in a year, or ten, or a hundred, or a thousand. An ending will come.
What sort of ending?
Ah, that is very much for you to decide. You see, the future is not set in stone, but there are paths that diverge and converge, weaving their ways slowly through the fabric of time. There are many such paths, but two that stand out clearer than the others. The time of choice is here. The technomages saw that this time would come, and sought to shepherd you in the right direction. Into the right choice. I do not give advice, or counsel. I simply present you with the options before you.
What options?
Simple. A galaxy of hope, or a galaxy of despair. Light versus darkness. Life against death.
That is a choice? The technomages told me they were afraid I would choose wrongly, but.... how can anyone fail to make the right choice with those options?
Do not speak too quickly. You do not yet know the price.
What.... what is the price?
I will tell you....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There was a moment of silence in the Council Chamber of the United Alliance of Kazomi 7. All eyes were fixed on the two figures standing. All minds were filled with speculation.
One of the standing figures was Primarch Sinoval, leader of the Minbari people, master of the mysterious and terrifying Soul Hunters. He had been on Kazomi 7 for over a week, engaged in private meetings with many of the leaders. Now he had spoken to the Council, trying to win their support to his goal of a strike against the Vorlons. The Vorlon Ambassador was not here.
Sinoval's speech had been interrupted by the arrival of the second figure. Vizhak was a member of this Council and had been since its formation more than two years earlier. He had only recently returned from a visit to the Drazi homeworld, and had returned with startling information.
"I say again to those who did not hear me before," he said. "Drazi ships have been attacked. Drazi ships have been attacked by Minbari ships. And who leads Minbari? Who orders Minbari ships? Who, but you?"
"I have given no such order," replied Sinoval, his face cold and hard, his dark eyes darting to each member of the Council as if daring any of them to disbelieve him. "I have not instructed any attack on Drazi shipping."
"Perhaps they were not Minbari ships," countered Vizhak. "Perhaps there were other ships looking like Minbari ships. Looking just like Minbari ships. There are eyewitnesses. There is documentation. They were Minbari ships."
"Sonovar," whispered the Primarch, closing his eyes. He hesitated, his body seemingly shaking with rage. Even Vizhak took a step back. Sinoval opened his eyes. "Sonovar," he repeated. The name meant little to anyone present.
"You pass blame on to another?" asked Vizhak.
"We should at least examine this evidence," spoke up a hasty voice. G'Kar, the voice of peace and reason as always. Unfortunately neither Sinoval nor Vizhak was interested in peace or reason. "Perhaps it is a conspiracy to frame Primarch Sinoval."
"No conspiracy," said Vizhak, with absolute certainty. "Minbari ships."
"Pirates, perhaps?" suggested G'Kar, looking at the still form of Primarch Sinoval. "Renegades?"
"You imply the mighty Primarch Sinoval cannot control his own people," said Vizhak. "That Minbari pirates slip his control and attack our ships. No, it was ordered, and who orders Minbari ships but he?"
"Sonovar," spoke the Primarch again. "This was Sonovar's doing. A pirate and a renegade, just as Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar said."
"So. You cannot control your people," snapped Vizhak.
"He lives only by my sufferance. He is too insignificant to bother with!"
"Deal with your own problems before you come to us!" cried Vizhak. "Why should we listen to one who lets his own people fly and destroy at will?"
Sinoval was about to reply, but he suddenly stopped and cocked his head as if listening to something. He looked at the door Vizhak had entered by a few minutes earlier. His hand went unconsciously to his side, to the place his pike would normally be.
The door opened, and in walked someone known to everyone on the Council. Captain John Sheridan, the legendary Starkiller himself. Sinoval straightened.
"Captain," said Lethke, the first to regain his composure. "You are.... back? How was.... How.... is...?"
"Delenn," spoke the thick accent of Emperor Londo Mollari. "Captain, is she...?"
"She is dead," came the soft reply. There was a collective sense of sadness, of sudden and terrible tragedy. Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar looked at his old friend, and his people's oldest enemy. Emperor Mollari's head was bowed.
"The Shadows killed her," continued Sheridan. "We.... only just got out of there alive. We.... couldn't get her body back."
"Droshalla preserve us," whispered Taan Churok. The stocky Drazi's face was full of emotion. He would have followed Delenn into oblivion and back. They all would.
"I.... um.... I think they were trying to convert her. Give her one of those Keepers or something." Sheridan's voice was choking as well. Everyone knew the depth of the relationship between him and Delenn. He had been mortally wounded and had lain paralysed for months. To recover only to lose her so shortly afterwards.... it was a true tragedy.And yet G'Kar knew the truth. Delenn had not been abducted and taken to Z'ha'dum. She had gone of her own free will as the price for the Vorlons curing Sheridan of those injuries. She obviously considered her life a price worth paying, and if that was her decision, how could he disagree with her?
But it was still so hard....
"She resisted," continued Sheridan. "They killed her when we arrived. They were afraid she'd escape and tell us about their secrets."
G'Kar looked up and turned his gaze from Sheridan to Sinoval. The Primarch was one of the three people in this room who knew the truth about Delenn's journey to Z'ha'dum. He was the one who had told G'Kar and Londo.
"She is dead?" said Sinoval.
For the first time, Sheridan seemed to notice he was there. He turned to look at the Minbari warrior. The two had met several times before, and there had rarely been friendship there. The air seemed to crackle between them.
"Yes," replied Sheridan simply.
Sinoval looked at Sheridan intently, staring into his eyes. Sinoval's own eyes grew even darker, so dark as to be almost infinite, a pool of blackness deep within his soul and beyond. G'Kar thought he could hear again the voice of the Well of Souls.
Sinoval then looked down, a terrible sadness filling him. He drew in a quick breath, then shook his head sadly.
"Damn you," he whispered, although of whom he was speaking G'Kar could not tell. Sinoval looked up again. "Damn you." He picked up the data crystal he had brought to the meeting, the crystal containing the record of Delenn's message to him, the message he had been intending to show the Council.
"Damn you!" He hurled the crystal against the wall. It shattered.
"I know who you are," he hissed, advancing on Sheridan. "I know who you are, and I swear by all the Gods in the heavens.... I will destroy each and every one of you!
"I will burn down your cities, and sow the ground beneath your feet with salt. Everything you have ever cherished I will destroy, as if it had never existed! Darker paths than yours, remember. I will show you them all."
Sheridan stood still where others would have quailed. Even some of the Council were flinching, and Sinoval's words were not directed at them.
It was Taan Churok who moved first, pushing back his chair and leaping to his feet. He lunged forward to attack Sinoval, when Sheridan suddenly raised a hand.
"No," he said softly. "Leave this place, Sinoval. Leave this place and never return."
"Let me kill him!" roared Taan Churok. Vizhak agreed.
Sinoval turned his gaze on all the Council. "I pity you all," he whispered. "Remember that I warned you." He looked back at Sheridan. "Remember that I warned you as well. Damn each and every one of you!"
"Go!" shouted Sheridan.
Sinoval stormed past him and left the hall. Sheridan watched dispassionately as the door slammed shut. He then turned back to the Council. He said four simple words.
"We are at war."
G'Kar looked at the broken pieces of Sinoval's data crystal. He had never seen anything more horrific in his life.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"His name was.... Byron, I believe. Our tests rated him as a P twelve. Very powerful, fully trained.... knowledgeable in certain.... how to put this politely? Certain unauthorised and not entirely legal techniques. All in all, absolutely perfect."
Morden looked up at the device before him. His associates had a number of plans in motion for various parts of the galaxy, and they were of such scope and range as to give the term 'forward planning' an entirely new meaning. Morden was well aware of how limited his part in their plans truly was.
Oh, he was useful, vital even. But he had been charged with forging alliances and making deals with certain alien Governments and systems: the Centauri of course, the Soul Hunters, one or two others. He was placed in the Vorlon Foreign Office. His path very rarely crossed with the Vorlon Bureau of Science.
Still, he knew at least the basics of the device before him; purpose, roughly how it worked, components and so forth. He had seen diagrams.
It was like a wall, but made of a substance very few people would have recognised. Morden was one of those few. It was a living wall, grown in the same way as the Vorlons ships. He reached out and touched it lightly. There was a faint warmth beneath his skin, and a soft, lazy vibration, almost like a heartbeat.
"Dormant, of course," said the old man.
Suspended half way up the wall, two or three feet from the ground, was a man. He was not held there by chains or rope or any form of nifty gravimetric trickery. The wall was holding him there. It was even growing around him. His head was tilted far back, and a small globe had been carefully fitted over it. Others might have called it an orb, a ball of some kind, or even a lampshade. Morden recognised the beginnings of a flower.
The man's body was still. He was unconscious.
Morden knew what the device was for, but he also knew the old man was dying to tell him all about it.
"So," he said, with a smile. "How does this thing work then?"
"There's no need to humour me," came the mildly reproving reply. "But since you asked nicely.... It's dormant at the moment, of course. Activating the channel would be.... unwise with such a strong Enemy presence here. When the time is right, then.... Well, you know all that. Actually, I've had it set up a little ahead of schedule. Byron really should have been sent off with the others, but this was a one in a million opportunity, having someone so powerful fall into our laps, so I sort of appropriated him from the cryo banks."
"Yes, it does seem a bit of a coincidence that he was here," Morden noted. "I suppose he didn't fall off the back of a truck?"
"No. Some of my.... certain individuals in my employ came across him. He was in Sector Three-o-one."
"Ah. That's still the less-than-reputable part of town, right?"
"It's actually got worse since the last time you were here, if you can believe that. Yes, that's the place. Byron here was sniffing around our business. He didn't have much time to find out anything useful. Our friends down there soon caught him. Unfortunately.... he had an accomplice, a woman. She's still at large."
"That doesn't sound good. Who do you think sent them? Bester?"
"Who else?"
Morden paused, deep in thought. "I heard the Enemy sent a fleet to his place to.... ah, deal with him. No one was happy about him triple-crossing everyone at Epsilon Three. I thought he was dead."
"That's the official report. Unofficially, I'd lay money he's still alive. Or maybe he isn't, and sent these two here before his death. Either way, it doesn't really matter. History is bearing down on all of us fast enough. The war will be coming here before the end of the year. I'd give it a bit less, actually. When the war does get here, and Mr. Byron is woken up.... well, it won't matter a bit what Bester has uncovered."
Morden looked up at the machine again. "It is very impressive," he said. "Will it do everything it's supposed to?"
"All that, and more. Yes.... I've always been worried about telepaths, you know. All my life. And here I am, at last in a position to do something about them. I can make sure their powers are kept under control and used for the public good. Each one we catch is one more feather on our side of the scales." The old man smiled. "Yes.... I feel like a young man all over again."
He nodded once, and then they turned away and left Mr. Byron to his dreams.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There are two paths before us now. Oh, the details are slightly different. One person can make a difference, even a significant difference. One moment of heroism, of cowardice, of courage, of fear.... anything can be changed. But there are two broad paths before us, and they stem from this moment, from you, from your choice.
What are.... what are my options? What must I choose?
In one future, you leave this place. I take you back to Kazomi Seven. There, you live, and love. You fight this war, and maybe it is won, and maybe it is a mere stand-off. You love, and raise children, and create a little haven of light and beauty and wonder. You live to an old age.... as you would measure old age, of course.
Continue....
But then you die, as all beings die. And after you are gone, the Darkness returns. Your haven, your light, your place of beauty.... it is swamped out forever. No, not forever. Nothing is truly eternal, save the cycle of life and death. But the light will be out for so long as to be almost forever, by your standards. There will be a haven, but for so short a time.
And the other option? The.... other path?
You leave this place and walk into darkness. You know great suffering, great loss, a terrible sadness. You endure pain and hardship and misery. Many close to you die or fall away. But in the end your sacrifice will ensure a brighter future.
And that will be.... will be eternal?
Nothing is eternal. But if you wish to cherish that remarkable delusion, then do so. Yes, the galaxy of wonder created by your suffering will indeed be eternal.
And John? Will he...? What will happen to him?
It is not for me to identify individuals. He will live, and he will die.
I saw him.... I saw his grave on Minbar. Is that.... is that in one of your futures?
Yes, I believe it is.
Which one?
You know that answer.
Yes, I do. Damn you.... I do not want to choose! I want.... I want.... No. What I want does not matter. I came here so that another could live, so that others could live. You know which path I take.
I never had any doubt.
Well.... I've made your choice. What now?
That is for you to decide. I can send you anywhere you wish to go. Where do you wish to go?
I see it now.... The humans, they are the key. The Vorlons in Dukhat's sanctum. They told me so, long ago. The humans are the key. Oh, Valen's Name....
Do you see?
A matter of numbers, you said. Maybe we have paid for what we did to their homeworld. Maybe.... maybe those we killed have been avenged by those they killed in turn. But what about those left alive? Oh, Valen.... we turned them to the Darkness. They would not have taken that path if it weren't for us.... for me. We.... I.... destroyed their hopes and dreams. I left them with nothing. They are the key.... They will be the tool through which the Darkness takes us, won't they?
You do see.
And John? Did they kill him?
Nothing is set in stone. You saw.... an image of what might have been. Had you continued on the path you were on then, perhaps that would have occurred. Now.... perhaps he will live longer. Perhaps he will still die.
Can.... Could you take me to him?
Yes.
No! No.... do not. I.... I sent him a message.
Yes. I know.
I told him that I loved him, and that I had come here to strike against the Shadows, to give my life for the greater good. How could I tell him that was the price of his recovery? I could not tell him that. He knows I love him, and will always love him, and he now thinks I am dead. Let me be dead to him.
Where do you wish to go?
I will go to Proxima Three. I will let them put me on trial. I will let them do with me as they wish. And.... maybe I will be able to reach someone there.... just one person.... who will be able to forgive me.
A wise decision. Do you wish me to take you there now?
No, return me to Ambassador Sheridan. He will be able to arrange everything.
Indeed he will. You have chosen wisely. I fear you have a difficult road ahead of you, but the future will be a little bit brighter.
I love John.... If the universe is kind, there will be a better place for both of us....
Farewell.... little mother. Farewell.
Delenn opened her eyes.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lyta Alexander's eyes were closed. There was the faintest tear of blood in her right eye. Gently, Commander Corwin reached out and brushed it away.
They had only just arrived back at Kazomi 7. The Babylon was in planetary orbit, and the crew had been given leave to go down to the planet. The official status of the ship was unclear. Corwin had been in charge during the Captain's.... incapacitation, and the Captain had taken it back for this emergency mission. What would happen now.... no one seemed to know. The Captain was sorting matters out with the Council now. He would also no doubt have met with Sinoval. That was a meeting Corwin did not want to be anywhere near.
He did not want to lead. He did not want to be responsible for the course of this war. All he wanted was a good ship, a good crew, and a chance to be absolutely sure who the enemy was.
He looked again at the woman before him, and sighed. She was one of the few people he could actually talk to these days. The old crew just seemed to.... have broken apart. A great many had died of course, or returned to Proxima, or given up on their previous lives. Neeoma Connally was still around somewhere, but she was on the Babylon less and less. She had been assigned to teach Starfury combat to anyone who wanted to learn.
Then there was Lyta.
She had spent the entire journey back from Z'ha'dum in a coma brought on by her exertions during their escape. She had been transferred to the Medlab here, and the doctors had not been able to discern any improvement, or for that matter offer much treatment. She would recover, or she would not.
"It was so much simpler before," Corwin said, with another sigh. "Everything used to be so simple." He turned and walked away, deep in thought.
The alien figure watching from the shadows waited for some minutes after Corwin had gone, and then manifested itself. The Vorlon loomed over the unconscious body of Lyta Alexander, studying her closely. It had not been able to attend the Council meeting, not with the Accursed Sinoval there. In some strange way it could not fully define, it was wary of him. He was everything their Enemies hoped to create in these mortals, and yet he fought them as passionately as he fought all others he opposed.
It did not matter. Sinoval the Accursed would be gone now. It could return to business.
<Wake,> it said.
Lyta's eyes opened and she immediately sat up, a strangled scream in her throat. "I can...." She stopped, and took a deep breath. "I could.... feel her," she whispered. She turned and saw the Vorlon beside her. "I could feel her. When I was asleep. Delenn. She's.... Is she dead?"
<Irrelevant. Come.>
"I'm tired! I can't.... I just.... can't...." Her eyes closed, and she swayed for a moment. She gripped the bedcovers tightly. "I held them back.... It.... hurt...."
<Irrelevant. Come.>
"I need some rest!"
The Vorlon's eye glowed. <Irrelevant. Now!>
She tried to scream, but the sound would not come. Finally she stumbled out of bed. "Stop!" she whispered. "S.... S.... Stop."
<Follow.> It turned and made towards the exit. Hesitantly, painfully, in confusion and agony, Lyta Alexander followed.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There was a soft and comfortable silence as the two of them lay side by side, thinking quietly. Smith's arm was bandaged and stitched now. He flexed it gently. There was slight pain and a dull ache, but Talia had handled it well.
"What next?" he said after a while.
"Hmm?"
"What do we do next?" he repeated. "Do we have some sort of plan, or would that be a little bit too much to hope for?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't.... IPX Headquarters perhaps. Whatever's going on will be based there. That's where we can find out just what they're up to.... just what they want with the people they've been taking."
"What do you think they're doing?"
"I don't know. Some sort of genetic alteration perhaps. Maybe a virus of some kind. Maybe they want their own group of telepath slaves."
"Hmm." He paused. "This means a lot to you, doesn't it? Helping telepaths like this."
"It's.... my identity. It's the only thing I've ever been good at." She sat up, resting on her elbow to look at him. "I never knew my parents. For as long as I can remember the Corps has been my home and my family. The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father."
"Still, it must have been.... lonely."
"Sometimes. Not always. I've had some friends. Some very good friends. Lovers. A child. I'm in a position where I can use my skills to do some good. Life.... hasn't been all that bad, really."
"What would you have done.... if you hadn't been a telepath? What would you want to do?"
She closed her eyes, thinking. "I don't know. I've never thought about it. What's the point? I am a telepath, I always will be. But.... for a while.... Promise you won't laugh."
"I promise."
"I'll know if you're lying."
"No you won't. Not unless the sleepers have worn off." She swore. "Anyway, I promise not to laugh."
"There was a time I thought it might have been nice to be a film star. Hey! You promised not to laugh!"
"Sorry," he said, chuckling. He coughed, and tried to look serious. She elbowed him in the stomach. "Hey, I said I was sorry."
"Well? What did you want to be?"
"Oh, no. I'm not answering that one."
"Come on."
"No."
"Fine. I can wait. The sleepers should be wearing off soon."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I?" she said, smiling.
"Fine. I wanted to be.... my brother. He was two years older than I was, and he knew.... everything. He knew all the places to go, all the cool people, all the things to do. He wanted to stay here all his life. He looked after me when my mother went to prison. She.... refused to take the sleepers, you see. They didn't have special Psi Corps camps here, so she just went to a regular prison. I think she spent most of her time in solitary.
"Anyway, my brother looked after me then. He died when I was thirteen. He was trying to climb into a construction site, and he slipped and cut himself on a sharp bit of wire fence. The cut turned bad. Oh, he could have gone to a hospital up-sector, but he didn't have any medical insurance. Besides, he kept telling me it was all going to be fine, and he'd get better any day now. It took him a couple of weeks to die, and he was delirious by the end."
Smith shook his head. "Such a stupid way to go. I didn't realise it at the time, but he'd shown me just how futile it was to stay here. There was nothing here, no hope, no future, no life, nothing. So I left."
"And now you've come back," she whispered softly.
"Yes.... There's still nothing here of course, but maybe there could be.... if someone worked hard enough at it."
She smiled and nodded. Then she lay back down and gently took his hand. He held hers and closed his eyes, drifting slowly off to sleep. She lay awake long into the night, waiting for the voices to return.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval stood on the pinnacle of Cathedral and roared his defiance to the heavens. Stormbringer raised high above his head, he looked down at the stars below and above and around, and cried out his anger and his hatred and his fury.
Words did not exist to describe his anger. Not only had the Vorlons dared to send Delenn to her death, but they had corrupted the genuine love in her decision. She had sacrificed her life so that the one she loved could live, and now they had twisted that. John Sheridan as she knew him did not live. Not any longer.
He was not sure exactly what the Vorlons had done to the Starkiller. It was possible that there was something remaining of the old Sheridan. It was equally possible that he was nothing more than a soulless automaton, moving and talking by their word alone. It did not matter either way. Their touch befouled him, filled his mind and his body.
Sinoval would destroy them all. He would raze their cities to the ground, topple their towers and sow their ground with salt. Nothing would remain, and within a generation no one would even remember they had ever existed.
And he knew what to do to begin this.
The curtain of stars around him shimmered, and the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus walked into view. The pinnacle at the top of Cathedral's highest tower, which just a moment ago had seemed barely wide enough for Sinoval to stand, now grew so that there was ample room for both of them.
"Our business at Kazomi Seven is concluded?" he said.
"Yes."
"Then are we to return to Tarolin Two?"
"Yes."
The Primarch bowed his head in acknowledgement. He did not leave, however.
"The Well of Souls spoke to me," he said, after a long pause. "It has the power of prophecy. It is a limited ability. The future after all has many alternative possibilities, but some things become inevitable over time."
"I do not believe in prophecy, or in destiny."
"That does not matter. Both prophecy and destiny believe in you."
There was another pause. Sinoval did not take his eyes off the myriad of stars around him. "So," he said finally. "What words of foreboding has the Well of Souls for me?"
"A time of great crisis is coming. For Cathedral, for all our order, and for you most especially. They speak of the doom of Aellearath." Sinoval turned, a puzzled expression on his face. "The shedding of innocent blood."
"No blood I shed is innocent."
"Perhaps. Nevertheless, a moment is coming, within weeks, when Cathedral will be shaken to its foundation, and a great change will sweep over us all."
"Change is not always bad."
"Not always, no."
Sinoval smiled. "It appears the Well of Souls may be right, this time. I have.... been toying with an idea for some time now. At first it was just idle speculation. When it became apparent this course of action might become necessary, I resolved not to put it into effect until I could be sure there was no other way. There is not.
"We are at war with the Vorlons. I have promised to destroy them utterly, and so I shall. But first I will need information, knowledge.... and to send them a warning.
"Primarch, I have a question for you.
"Tell me, Primarch, in all the history of your order, ever since the Well of Souls was first born, has any of your order ever taken a Vorlon soul?"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Delenn opened her eyes.
She did not know where she was. She did not think she had seen this room before. She was still on Z'ha'dum, she knew that much. She could feel the thickness of the air, the darkness of the ground, and the ancient presence deep beneath the surface. Lorien was still watching her, with a great sadness.
She sat up, and realised she was on a bed. This might be a hospital of some kind. She saw the outline of a humanoid being at the far end of the room. It turned to look at her, and in its alien face she saw no pity, no mercy, no emotion at all. One of the Shadows' scientists.
Then the scientist moved deeper into the darkness, and Ambassador Sheridan came into view through a door she could only barely see. He walked up to her side.
"The Zener told me you would awaken soon," he said simply. "They knew your injuries were not severe, and that you would recover."
"What of.... What about Neroon?" she asked. "And Ivanova?"
"Neroon is dead, Ivanova lost. They do not matter, you do. You cannot escape. Do you realise that now?"
"I do," she said simply. "I do not wish to escape."
His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"We need to talk...."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The Allied Council of Kazomi 7 met several times in the days immediately after the departure of Primarch Sinoval. Captain Sheridan was in attendance for most of those meetings, studying plans and strategies of the Shadow attacks, observing the locations of their assaults, advising and co-ordinating the response. His plans were little more than holding actions and preventative safeguards, rather than fully fledged counterattacks. No one questioned him about this.
Emperor Londo Mollari was also present, discussing the cease-fire arrangements with Ambassador G'Kael. The Kha'Ri were less than receptive even to the idea of such negotiations, as were the Centarum. Two months after his arrival at Kazomi 7, Emperor Londo Mollari returned home with very little achieved. Still, he had been able to establish an embassy there. He made arrangements to start setting up an office, to renew trade agreements and to begin appointing staff. All he needed now was an Ambassador.
Ambassador Ulkesh Naranek was seen in public quite often. Lyta Alexander was not.
Vorlon ships slowly became visible in the skies above Kazomi 7. Ambassador Ulkesh did not even seem to acknowledge their presence, but it soon became clear they were guarding the planet.
A month after Captain Sheridan's return, all the Vorlon ships mysteriously left, to be replaced by new ships.
They were smaller than the Vorlon heavy cruisers, and did not seem to be particularly Vorlon in design. They were small, but very manoeuvrable. As Captain Sheridan explained to a stunned Alliance Council, they were comparable in firepower to even the largest capital class ships of the other races, and they were also much faster. The Vorlons had designed them especially for this war, and now they were being presented to the Alliance.
"They are called Dark Stars," Sheridan said, his eyes gleaming. "We have a whole fleet of them, and more to come. Now we can take the war to the enemy."
No one doubted he meant it.