Chapter 4

"AND we must reunite with the other half of our soul in a war against the Enemy which is to come.... Together we will walk into fire and darkness and bring the light...."
So ran the prophecies of Valen, immortalised over a thousand years ago, at the end of the last Great War. To the Minbari, who did not believe in gods, Valen was the closest thing to a God they had.
"Minbari not born of Minbari, he came from nowhere during the dying days of the last Great War, he defeated the Shadows, formed the Grey Council, wrote the prophecies...."
And the prophecies he had written were coming true, but in a way he could surely never have expected. Only Delenn, who had studied his words in such detail that she knew every line and marking, only she knew the true, bitter irony of what was happening.
The two halves of the soul were coming together, and they were walking into fire and darkness, but they were coming together in war, and they were bringing the fire and darkness with them.
Over ten years after the Battle of the Line and the subsequent destruction of Earth, Minbari and human were meeting in battle once again, with the Ancient Enemy involved, aiding the humans, who had sold everything they were just to stay alive. The humans could, perhaps, be forgiven for being so easily corrupted by the Shadows. Their question - 'What do you want?' - was easily answered when all you wanted was safety and peace, and not to have to look up into the skies every night, dreading the arrival of an alien armada.
But the Minbari, what excuse did they have? None, save the accidental death of one man. None, save the pride and arrogance of their leader, Sinoval. None, save the determination to crush a people who had already lost everything they had ever had.
There would only be one victor at the Battle of the Second Line, and that would be the Shadows.
But.... there was always hope....
Delenn was a Satai of the Grey Council, the chosen of Dukhat. Had it not been for the twist of fate that had thrown her into Sheridan's path as he escaped his confinement on Minbar it would be she who now stood in the Hall of the Grey Council. For all that she had been gone for almost an entire cycle, she still had respect and power and the ears of the Grey Council. If they would listen to her, then this tragedy might be averted, as she had failed to avert a greater tragedy at Earth.
She had changed during her captivity among the humans - both physically and spiritually. Her chrysalis transformation might have been interrupted, and its results might be close to killing her, but she was still proof of what Valen had said - humans and Minbari were of the same soul. If she could show this to the Grey Council, then the tragedy might be averted.
She did not want to betray John. She sensed a destiny for the two of them - a feeling she had never known before, not even with Neroon. He was on the bridge of this new ship - the Parmenion - trying to hold back a Minbari onslaught and a Shadow involvement from destroying his own people. He was here as the tool of a Psi Cop who was playing his own game with billions of lives at stake.
Only minutes ago, John had told her that he did not trust anyone. How could he? He had been betrayed by the Government he had served for so long. He was forced to obey the orders of someone whose orders made no sense. He had been forced to kill his own wife, who had - possibly - been involved in his betrayal.
John had lied, but whether he knew he had lied or not, Delenn was not sure. He trusted her, even if he could not admit it, not even to himself. But he did trust her, and she was about to forsake that trust.
He had left her with access to the communications systems. They had been deactivated, but reactivating them was simple enough. Neroon and Draal had taught her many things, including communications. Human technology was, compared to the Minbari's, primitive. She had reactivated them easily, and it would be simple to send out a message that the bridge would not intercept.
She took a deep breath, and winced at the pain in her chest. Breathing was becoming harder for her, and walking was difficult. Her whole body ached.
Her spirit ached too.
"Forgive me, John," she whispered, knowing that he had no reason to do so. What had she done except betray him time and again?
But what were two lives compared with all the millions who would die if this did not end here and now?
She activated her message.
"This is Satai Delenn of the family of Mir, of the Grey Council. I am being held prisoner on this ship - the Parmenion. The Starkiller is captaining it. I must see the Grey Council now. Do you understand? I must see the Grey Council now."
There. She stepped back. Some of the ships would free her from here, and she would be taken before the Grey Council. Then, she would be able to convince them of what she knew.
This would have to end.
"Forgive me, John," she whispered.
"Forgive me."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

And Londo had thought being gassed, bombed, threatened and mystified was bad....
It seemed that ever since he had got involved in G'Kar's conspiracy, people had been trying to kill him, gas him, blow him up, stab him, or shoot large holes in any spaceship he happened to be travelling in.
Fair enough, he admitted, most of the gassings, shootings, and attempted blowings up were the result of perfectly natural Centauri politics - promotion in the Royal Court largely tending in the direction of dead men's purple boots, with very few questions asked about the nature of their emptying - and had nothing whatsoever to do with G'Kar. But then again, if it wasn't for that blasted Narn and his blasted Ancient Enemy, then Londo would never have involved himself in politics in the first place, and he would spend his days quite happily living a pious and religious life. (Insofar as Centauri religion tended towards the drinking, eating, gambling, womanising and being very sick school of religion - probably on the theory that if you were going to be a deeply spiritual person, you might as well enjoy it.)
Ah, who am I kidding? Londo thought. I would have done this anyway.
But then, blaming G'Kar was much more fun than blaming himself.
After he had left Centauri Prime - supposedly dead - he had been helped aboard the warship Valerius, captained by his nephew Carn. Londo was not particularly happy at his nephew having chosen a life in the military, but he had been able to use his influence to get Carn posted to a ceremonial, showy type of ship, and therefore one not very likely to see much action.
Unfortunately, they'd neglected to inform the Narns of this.
Technically the Narns and the Centauri were at war. Well, technically and actually, but Londo had still found it irritating to be attacked by a Narn warship so far from the war zone. He had been on his way to Frallus 12, to rendezvous with a number of his sources and agents there, when they'd run into a Narn cruiser.
This is so absurd! he thought. I wonder if that Captain has any idea of who I am. If G'Kar knew about this, he would.... If G'Kar knew about this.... if G'Kar....
All right, so maybe G'Kar was a little hard to reach these days. His chief lackey in the Kha'Ri wasn't.
He had managed to bully his way to a communications centre and had patched a very hurried message through to the Narn homeworld, using a special frequency and code G'Kar had made available to all in his little Circle of Light. His hopes for a reply had been slim, but he had definitely not been expecting the Narn captain himself to appear on the screen.
"Minister Mollari," had said the Captain. "I am Warleader Na'Kal, of the J'Tok. It has come to my attention that we walk in similar circles."
That was news to Londo. Did G'Kar have agents everywhere? "I suppose that we do," he said carefully. "In gesture of our.... similarities, how would you feel about stopping your attack?"
"Already done. I am loyal to G'Kar, and my crew are loyal to me. We have received word that the Enemy is active at last, and are engaging the Minbari in battle over Proxima. G'Kar has ordered us to try and assist the Minbari. He asks that you do the same."
"Oh, great!" Londo muttered. His warrior days were long gone - had gone at Frallus 12, in fact, but still.... A chance to rekindle old glories? Perhaps even a chance to put him back in his rightful position in the Royal Court? "I will see what I can do."
"Do you have telepaths aboard?"
"I believe there may be one or two. Do you?"
"Yes, although he is not very strong."
"Well, then. It looks as though G'Kar has done the impossible, and we'll actually be fighting together, no?"
"Some things are more important than revenge, Minister. You have the co-ordinates for Proxima, I trust?"
"Of course."
"Then I will see you there." Na'Kal suddenly paused. "Are you a gambling man, Minister?"
Londo contemplated lying, but knew that would be pointless. "Yes."
"Then what would you gamble that we destroy more of their ships than you do?"
Londo smiled. A Narn with something intelligent to say. That was rare. A Narn with a sense of humour....
That was far rarer.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Marcus was.... just waiting, trying to look at anything other than the woman before him. She was waiting as well. Waiting for what, he didn't know. She'd returned from her meeting with General Hague in a dark mood. She'd paced up and down angrily, drunk a little more of that Narn liquor, and simply waited, arguing with herself, although she said nothing. Marcus was no stranger to self-conflict, and he recognised the signs in her. He wasn't sure what she was debating, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. All he wanted to know was where Lyta was.
Marcus Cole had done many things in his life that he was ashamed of. His drunken submission after Earth had fallen and his home colony - Vega 7 - had been taken over by the Narns. His survival when almost everyone else had been killed. His insistence on serving as Sheridan's bodyguard - just a means to escape his own problems. The way he had betrayed Lyta - and Sheridan - by succumbing to Ivanova's advances.
Of nothing he had done was he more ashamed than this. He had been entrusted with a task - an important task - and he had failed. Ivanova had tricked him so easily, she had locked him up and been free to go about her own business. Marcus wasn't sure exactly what she had done, but he could see the distance in her eyes when she returned, and he knew that it was something dreadful.
He still didn't know what had happened to Captain Sheridan, or Satai Delenn, or Commander Corwin.... or Lyta. He had been here for almost two weeks. Ivanova had been in and out during that time, but he knew he could not escape when she was gone. He just beat at the walls and screamed out for Lyta, but there was nothing. Nothing and no one. And when she was here....
Ivanova suddenly raised her head and looked up. "And so it begins," she whispered. She took a deep breath and activated her link. Marcus did not hear her message, but he did pick up the name 'Welles'.
And then Ivanova had sat back, still looking at the ceiling. "It's beginning," she told him. "The Minbari are here, and my friends are here to fight them. We'll win, of course. They can't hold us off. We're too strong." Ivanova laughed, but it sounded false. "We'll win, and after this, we'll take the war to them for a change.
"We're aren't going to have to be afraid any more, Marcus. And neither are you."
He was about to ask what she meant, when the door opened. In walked a security guard - it was Boggs - and he was dragging someone....
"Lyta!" Marcus exclaimed. He leapt up and moved forward, but, moving with a speed he found surprising, Ivanova extended her Minbari pike and formed a barrier with it. Boggs bowed to Ivanova and left.
Marcus looked down at the woman he had grown to care for. Lyta had done most of the chasing in their relationship, and he had been overcautious, certainly, but it was only recently that he was beginning to realise how much she meant to him.
She was bruised and battered. Her clothing was partially torn, and her face was covered with bruises and scratches. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, and her right eye was badly swollen. The left looked vague and unfocussed.
"Look at her," Ivanova was saying. "The uniform, the gloves, the badge.... all designed to make her stand out, to make her different, to make her special. But without her powers, she's not special at all. She's just like each of us, except that she isn't, because she doesn't have anything else. No family, no lover, no.... no reason to get up in the morning.
"Psi Corps won't let any of their members have those things. They won't let their members be happy. They won't let any telepath be happy, because it reminds them of everything they've taken away from themselves."
Marcus was still looking at Lyta. She had raised her head to look at him. Her expression shot to his very heart.
"How you feel now," Ivanova said to Lyta. "That's how my mother felt every day of her life since they found her. That's.... that's how I'd feel if you found me. I've been afraid of you.... of this badge, since I was a child." She bent down over Lyta, relaxing her hold on the pike across Marcus' chest. He tried to step forward, but she pushed him back. She roughly pulled the badge from Lyta's dress and held it up.
"But it's just a bit of plastic. I've been afraid of this.... afraid of you all this time for nothing. This is just plastic, and you.... you're just as weak as the rest of us, without your powers, without what makes you special.
"I needn't have been afraid, and now I'm not.
"Look at her, Marcus. She's been lying to you all along. She's been using her power on you all along. She's been raping you every time you're together and it's all the worse because you never knew about it, and she keeps on pretending that she loves you.
"Psi Corps doesn't know the meaning of the word love, Marcus. She's just using you. Using you to try and gain a part of her life that she can never have."
Marcus started as something shimmered beside him. He turned, and gasped....
(A black scream in his mind the earth broke as it rose it screamed in his mind it was big and black and came from Hell it screamed in his mind screamed in his mind....)
Marcus knew he was looking at a Shadow. Two Shadows. He stumbled and staggered backwards. He fell.
"She can't love you, Marcus," Ivanova said. "Only I can."
She gripped her pike tighter and looked down at Lyta. Lyta was trying to say something, but she couldn't get the words out.
Marcus tried to move forward, but the Shadow was there, blocking his way.
Ivanova raised her pike....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Shai Alyt, we're intercepting a message." Tryfan looked across at the Ranger who had said this. The very title of Shai Alyt addressed to him gave him a moment's pride and exultation, but he soon focussed his attention back to the matter at hand. Holy One Sinoval and Satai Kalain had entrusted him with this position. He would not prove them wrong.
"It's from.... it's from her. Zha'valen."
Tryfan started. Delenn, formerly of the family of Mir, formerly of the Grey Council, formerly chosen of Dukhat, formerly a Minbari. Now, she was Zha'valen, traitress to her race and her people, and willing agent of the Enemy. The Grey Council had pronounced her Zha'valen - literally, a Shadow on Valen - a few weeks before. Now, no Minbari could speak to her, look at her, or even speak her name. She was outcast.
By the laws of his people, Tryfan should ignore the message, deny it as he should deny her very existence, but.... this was war, and practicalities were more important than principles. If this was genuine....
But even Tryfan could only go so far.
"Send the message to the Grey Council, to Satai Kalain if you can. Let them decide what to do about it."
"Should we not listen to it first? It might be important, Shai Alyt."
"She is Zha'valen," Tryfan countered. "Her words are as dust, her heart is as stone. Nothing she says matters to us." Ritualistic words that could not fail to hide Tryfan's deep anger and disappointment. He had known Delenn - known her well. To see her as traitress and outcast.... it hurt.
But duty came first. Duty and honour.
Tryfan was unsure of whether it was instinct or pure luck that caused him to look up at that moment, but he did look up, and he was the first to see, on the display before him, the sight of the big, black ships shimmering into existence. He breathed in harshly (hearing the screams in his mind) and whispered a silent prayer to Valen to guide him.
The Shadows were here.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

General Laurel Takashima was certainly no stranger to battle. No one promoted in Earthforce in the aftermath of the fall of Earth could be. She had seen Minbari ships flying through the heavens above Mars, and she had seen Captain Sheridan's bloody charge into their armada on this very ship. Takashima did not like Captain Sheridan, but she had to acknowledge his skill. The Babylon was his ship, not hers.
And then there was the crew....
Most of the Babylon's crew had been off-ship - either being questioned by Welles and his security guards or just being out of the way - when Sheridan had defected. A handful of the crew had gone with him, and stayed with him. Another handful had come back, along with a few of Mr. Bester's people.
Bester had, unsurprisingly, provided no explanation for what had happened to the Babylon, or what had happened to Captain Sheridan. The newly promoted President Clark had muttered darkly about a few things, but had then let the matter lie. General Hague was becoming seriously unstuck. Mr. Welles was, of course, interested, but then he always was. Takashima....
This felt uncomfortable, and it was more than just the concern about facing the Minbari again. The Babylon was the mainstay of Proxima's defence force - with or without Captain Sheridan - and it had to be there when the Minbari arrived, but....
Why did she feel that something strange was going on? There had been that unusual meeting earlier on, with one of the new bridge crew. One of Bester's people, she supposed, but.... why did she look oddly familiar?
Takashima had stopped and looked at the woman. She was blonde, pretty, very elegant-looking. Takashima had never seen her before, but.... "And you are?" she had asked.
"Lieutenant Stoner," had come the reply. "Second grade lieutenant."
Takashima had blinked. She had never heard of this Lieutenant Stoner. In theory a quick look at the records should enable her to verify Stoner's ID, but the Minbari were coming, and there wasn't time, and.... and.... and she didn't want to.
The instruments were picking up two other heavy class Earthforce destroyers nearby, but Takashima was not surprised, almost as if she'd been.... expecting them.
The message came through. The image on the commscreen was of a harsh, severe-looking military man with a scar.
"Colonel Ari Ben Zayn, Captain of the Ozymandias," the man said. "A pleasure to meet you, General." He didn't sound as if he meant it.
"Likewise, Colonel." Takashima had met him before, once, when she was still a cadet and he was the hero of New Jerusalem. He was supposed to be dead. Another of Bester's little surprises.
"They're here. Ben Zayn out." The image faded and Takashima heard the voice of Lieutenant Franklin, one of the old bridge crew. She didn't need to hear his exact words. She knew.
The Minbari were here.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Uncle Londo, what exactly have you got us into?"
A difficult question to answer, Londo thought. Stopping an attack by a Narn warship was one thing, but getting involved in a pitched battle, that was quite another.
Minbari on one side, humans and Shadows on the other, and the J'Tok and the Valerius in the middle, trying to drive back the Shadows and avoid getting shot by the humans or the Minbari.
It was at times like this that Londo wished he'd gone into farming instead.
Land, animals, crops, there. No big black insect-type ships, no insane wagers with Narns, no... no adventure, no glory, no respect, no chance to help his people.
"A wager, Carn," Londo replied. "One of the greatest wagers of all."
"Uncle Londo, you haven't been drinking, have you?"
"Why, Carn! I am shocked by your attitude! Of course I have! But that is not the point. You won't let some Narn claim superiority over us just because he did better in this battle than we did, will you? We are Centauri, Carn! We can best any Narn or human any day!"
"Of course we can!"
"Good, then you know what to do?"
"Yes, use our telepaths to jam their ships and then.... well, hit them."
"Good, Carn. Good. You are learning. Now, you are the military man, so you do what you think best. If you want me, then I will be hiding under the bed in my quarters. Good luck."
For the first time in the history of their races, Narn and Centauri were fighting together, against a common enemy. It was a pity that the humans and the Minbari had not learned a similar lesson.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The battle over Proxima - the Second Line as it would later be called - was a mass of action, shifting, swirling, changing, with little rhyme, reason or strategy. To the pitifully small human defenders, it was simply a matter of holding the Line and protecting Proxima at any cost. To the Minbari, it was facing down the Enemy, crushing an opponent who should have stayed crushed after the last time, it was making a stand for Light against the Darkness.
To the J'Tok, it was service to a respected and an admired leader, and a matter of Narnish pride. To Captain Carn Mollari, it was the wishes of his - slightly crazy - uncle, but also a matter of Centauri pride. Later, both captains would get into trouble for this from their governments, but that was if they survived. And if they did, then they would have formed a crucial bond together.
To Captain Ben Zayn and Mr. Harriman Gray, it was about following orders, about taking a path and not deviating, about fighting and continuing and not surrendering. To Laurel Takashima, it was what should be a simple task - holding the Line - turning into a mass of voices screaming at her, amongst crew who had their own agendas and another set of thoughts originating in her mind.
To Shai Alyt Tryfan, it was a chance for glory, and to justify the faith others had placed in him. To Satai Kalain, it was a military action, something that had to be done. To Holy One Sinoval, it was the continuation of his destiny, a chance to achieve the future he knew belonged to him and his people. To the Satai Hedronn, Lennann and Rathenn, it was a day when the Minbari became not butchers, but doctors, cutting the evil away from the galaxy.
To Ambassador Susan Ivanova, it was the end to fear. To Warmaster Jha'dur, Deathwalker, it was the beginning of her monument to her people.
To General Hague, it was the day that self-esteem and self-respect died. To President Clark, it was a glorious day. To Mr. Welles it was a time when all his calculations and theories would be borne out and proved or disproved once and for all. To Bester, it was a time for testing and forging. To G'Kar, it was the beginning of the strike back. To Marcus, it was a time for choice. To Lyta, a time of sorrow. To Ta'Lon, a day when he wished he could get there on time.
To Delenn, Zha'valen, it was a forlorn hope for peace. To Starfury pilot Neeoma Connally, it was a nightmare she would not wake up from. To Captain Sheridan and Commander Corwin it was....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

To Captain Sheridan and Commander Corwin it was a time for choices.
Sheridan had faced down Minbari fleets before. Standing at his side, so had Corwin. Neither was afraid. Sheridan was filled with the supreme confidence he always felt in battle. It was a chance to forget everything else, to forget Bester and Anna and Clark and Delenn and focus on the one thing that made him special. Corwin was less confident, but just as focussed.
Sheridan's normal strategy in a situation like this would be to mine the entrance to the system, fight a slow holding action and pull the Minbari ships into the mines. It had worked with the Black Star, and it compensated for their inability to target the Minbari ships. There were just two problems, however....
One was that he had arrived here at about the same time as the Minbari fleet, meaning that the area had not been mined. Whatever the Resistance Government's reasons for not doing this, it meant that Sheridan had to act quickly, throwing his Starfury squadrons forward as a sacrificial screen, allowing him enough time to back off slowly and begin laying the minefields, hoping that enough of his Starfuries would get back in time before the mines became active.
The second problem was more serious. The Shadows.
He had nearly completed the first layer of his minefield, fighting a slow holding and repelling action against the Minbari as he did so, when the first Shadow ship blazed by over the Parmenion. He felt a high pitched agonising scream burn into his mind and he stumbled for a moment. Glancing over at the viewscreen, he was astonished by what he saw. He had never seen a Shadow vessel before, but he knew that the large, black, almost living, spider-like thing could only be a Shadow ship.
The others on the bridge had been affected as well. Corwin was wincing, and the rest of the bridge crew were shaking their heads or holding their hands over their ears.
All except one.
Alisa Beldon did not belong on the bridge. In fact, Sheridan did not really understand why Bester had placed a telepath on the ship at all.
He was about to find out.
Alisa was concentrating. Her eyes were closed and her hands clenched into fists. Blood was dripping from one palm. Sheridan looked at the tactical display in front of him. The.... the thing.... the Shadow ship.... it wasn't moving. It seemed.... paralysed.
He looked up at Corwin. His second had clearly noticed the same thing.
"I think we've been set up," Corwin said.
"Me too. Remind me to kill Bester when we get back."
'Do what you think is best,' Bester had said. Sheridan had assumed he had meant with regard to the Minbari. Bester hadn't. The pieces were finally clicking together. Bester had sent his ships here to fight the Shadows. Telepaths provided some sort of weapon against them. Bester had been forcing him into making this decision.
He remembered Delenn's earnest words about the Great War and the Ancient Enemy. He wasn't sure he'd believed her before, not even after the Babylon 4 incident. Now, he did.
He whispered his wife's name softly. Anna's death had been caused by these people, whether directly or indirectly it did not matter. They had corrupted the Resistance Government, killed his wife, caused him to become an exile and traitor.
He looked at Corwin, who shrugged.
"Left broadsides, multiple strikes against that thing," he ordered.
"Tear it apart."
The bridge crew smiled, as if they'd been expecting nothing else.
In the words of a great leader of millennia before:
Alea jacta est.
The die is cast.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There is a darkness here, thought Ta'Lon. A grave and terrible darkness.
He could feel it, in the air, in the ground, in the people he met and saw. They had given themselves over to the Enemy willingly, either not knowing or not caring about the consequences. They had done so out of fear, it was true, but they had still surrendered to the Darkness.
Alarms had been given, warning the people to enter shelters - shelters that would do no good if the Minbari did to Proxima what they had done to Earth. The people had largely ignored them. Instead they were waiting beneath the Main Dome, staring up into the skies and dreading the arrival of the blinding light that would herald the end of their existence.
Ta'Lon was alone here, but he had his mission. To find Marcus Cole. To find Lyta Alexander. To free them from the Darkness that ruled this place.
Security guards were no more disciplined than were the common people. Many were standing outside panicking. Many had abandoned their posts, perhaps seeking a last moment with lovers or children or friends, perhaps seeking to avoid the knowledge of their coming death in a fog of drink, perhaps doing many things....
Entering the main government complex of the Main Dome was easy. G'Kar had, a long time ago, obtained plans of most of the major cities and complexes of most of the major power bases in the galaxy. Always in case of emergencies....
The first place Ta'Lon tried was the Detention Block. There was a guard on duty there, one in whom Ta'Lon recognised a calm professionalism driven to near despair. He had refused Ta'Lon entry, had stuck to his determination as if it were the last breath of air in his body.
And so Ta'Lon had tried elsewhere. Fortune was on his side.
The human was pacing up and down the corridors, despair and tragedy in his eyes. He looked haunted. He looked anguished. He looked.... he looked lost.
Ta'Lon had false papers authorising him as a Narn security advisor. The security guard at the Detention Block had insisted on having them verified and Ta'Lon had not had the time for that. The papers had managed to get him in this far.
The human was talking to himself, speaking the same four words over and over again.
"The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming."
The human stopped when he saw Ta'Lon. The Narn saw a general's insignia on his uniform. "You...?" the general whispered. "I remember you. It was.... it was...."
And Ta'Lon remembered him now, although he was astonished to recognise this haunted figure as the calm, confident General Hague he had known in the last war with the Centauri. The humans had assisted in the war - well, Sheridan had, which amounted to the same thing - and General Hague had come to the city of G'Khamazad for meetings with the Kha'Ri. Ta'Lon had been in the Narn military then, and he had been responsible for the escort that brought General Hague in.
Of course, that was before G'Kar. That was before Neroon. That was a million years ago.
"General Hague," Ta'Lon said slowly.
"You're dead," Hague said. "You're.... dead. I'm certain you were dead. We're all.... dead. All dead.... The Minbari are coming."
"Do you know where Marcus Cole and Lyta Alexander are?" Ta'Lon asked. He was not expecting rationality, but maybe, maybe there was hope.... The Darkness had not claimed him just yet, but madness had instead.
"No!" he cried out. "No! I.... Oh God, what have I become? Plenty of company at the bottom.... she said. At the.... bottom...." Hague blinked. "Room six, ground floor, Grey area. Go. Save them! Please.... the price.... some prices are too great."
Ta'Lon nodded and silently thanked Hague. He made to go, and then he patted the general nervously on the arm. Hague was lost. The best he could hope for was to die without realising what had happened to his people.
Ta'Lon had made it to the right area, when he came to an abrupt halt. Standing at the entrance to the hall was a human, flanked by two security guards.
"Even in the midst of anarchy, there must be some order," the leader said. "Even in chaos, there is purpose. May I know yours, please?"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The White Stars moved forward, over and under Sheridan's hastily constructed minefield. They could see their enemies. The human ships they had come to destroy, and the Shadows defending them. A long way further towards the centre of the system, near Proxima 3 itself, there was a frantic battle between a Narn ship, a Centauri ship, two human ships and the Shadows, but that was there. Here, out on the edge of the Proxima system, it was Minbari versus Shadows, as it had been before, with no Vorlons, no First Ones, no Valen to aid them. On the other hand, they did have the Starkiller.
The first Shadow ships, screaming and black and dark against the night, came into view of the first White Stars. The White Stars were faster than the greater Minbari ships, and had entered the breach first.
They were not faster than the Shadows.
One Shadow ship was struck by the focussed bursts from two White Stars at once. The Minbari had clashed with their Ancient Enemy before this battle, in small skirmishes. The one at Mars had been destroyed, so had the ships at Ganymede. But never in this number, never on this scale.
Another Shadow soared above the White Stars and tore them apart with its energy burst. The wounded ship fell back and two more rose forward. More White Stars came, and combined their forces. One Shadow ship screamed as its outer spines were burned away. Minbari on both ships felt the scream. Shortly after their own screams were added to it as the Shadows struck back.
The Shadows pressed forward, pushing the White Stars back. One tried a counterattack, rushing forward, and briefly drove the Shadow back.
But there were too many Shadows.... far too many....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval stood in the centre of the Hall of the Grey Council, the One amongst the Nine. He was watching the battle taking place with calm, patient eyes.
Unlike many in the Council, Sinoval was a consummate strategist, a planner and a tactician. He could read the ebb and flow of the battle effortlessly. He could evaluate weak spots and vulnerabilities, strengths and fortified positions.
At the moment the battle was too early to be accurately read. There were more Shadows than he had been expecting, but the Minbari fleet still outnumbered them. The presence of three Earthforce heavy destroyers - one the Babylon he remembered so well from the attack on Mars - had surprised him, but what surprised him more was that two of them were focussing on the Shadows just as much as on the Minbari. He had not been expecting that turn of events, but he put it down to deep-rooted terror, as the humans finally witnessed just what they had allied themselves to. The presence of a Narn warship and a Centauri cruiser had surprised him as well - more so as they were fighting back to back, working against the Enemy.
There were games within games taking place, and he did not like the thought that others were manipulating events.
"Holy One!" It was Kalain. Sinoval turned to face him, irked that his contemplation of the battle had been interrupted. "We have received a message. It is from.... it is from her. Zha'valen."
He could see the shock on the faces of Rathenn and Lennann, the two members of the religious caste still on the Grey Council. The two of them had objected the most strongly when Delenn had been named Zha'valen - outcast. Sinoval himself had not believed the story he had put out - that Delenn had gone with Starkiller willingly, had helped him escape from Minbar, and was working with the Enemy of her own will. It had, however, suited him to pretend that he did. With Delenn gone, his was the only voice the Grey Council could hear.
And yet....
He listened as the acolyte who had brought Kalain the message replayed it. Afterwards, for a moment, there was silence. He could tell what each member of the Council was thinking. His own thoughts could be summed up in one word.
Starkiller.
Sheridan had escaped from Minbar, had killed two members of this assembly and crippled - physically and emotionally - three more. He was responsible for countless Minbari deaths. He had dared to face down Sinoval in this very Hall. The fact that Sheridan was also - indirectly - responsible for Sinoval holding the position he did today was not lost on the Holy One. On the contrary, that counted as one more weight against him.
"Bring them to me," Sinoval snapped. "The Starkiller and De.... and the Zha'valen. Bring them before me in chains and let them face my judgement." This war would end here, in the skies of Proxima, but it could not end until Sheridan was dead, and Del.... and the Zha'valen was punished for her treason.
Sinoval understood that humans had a saying. Great empires are always built on blood.
He would build a Minbari empire on the blood of two people.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Captain Ben Zayn could practically feel the evil directed towards him, the focussed evil of millennia. He welcomed it. He was a soldier, a warrior. He had fought on countless battlefields and survived them all. He would survive this one.
Beside him, Gray's head snapped backwards with the force of the telepathic encounter. Ben Zayn took advantage, driving forward with both broadsides and the fore firing team. He had fought the Shadows before as well. No enemy was invincible.
He wasn't surprised to learn that the Babylon was fighting alongside him. He knew most, if not all, of Bester's little secrets. He was surprised at the arrival of a Narn and a Centauri ship, fighting together of all things.
Ben Zayn felt the rush of battle, felt at once the furious passion of the warrior and the calm serenity of one who has accepted his inevitable death.
For the duration of this battle he knew that he was immortal.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Minbari coming forward!"
Sheridan swore.
His Starfury screen had been cut down to almost nothing, but it had bought enough time to lay his mine screen, allowing him to concentrate on the Shadows, the enemy he was still slightly surprised to be fighting. The Minbari had finally managed to breach his minefield. He wasn't surprised - it was inevitable - but he did wonder how much it had cost them to do it.
"Forward interceptors and mass dispersion fire!" he ordered, glancing at Corwin, who was observing the tactical displays and plotting strategies. For the moment, the Shadows were concentrating on the Minbari. Sheridan knew enough to leave two enemies to fight each other, but he doubted he'd be ignored for long.
He also shot a glance at Alisa Beldon. She was leaning heavily against a display, breathing hard. Her aid had helped him take down two of the big Shadow ships and a handful of the smaller ones, but it had taken a lot out of her. She was exhausted. She looked up and smiled wearily.
Damn you, Bester! Sheridan thought. Why did you have to involve children in this?
The ship rocked beneath the barrage of Minbari fire. The interceptors were overheating.
"A boarding pod!" Corwin said. "But that's...."
Sheridan shared his incredulity. The Minbari didn't board ships. It wasn't their way. They must want something here really badly to try and....
His eyes widened. "Delenn! David, can we shoot it down?"
"Nope. It's too small for our dispersion fire and it's got that stealth stuff so we can't target it."
"Ah hell! Get the.... the Narn bat squad patrolling the area where they're likely to arrive. Patch a message through to...." He thought of Delenn. "No. I'll go and warn her. Mr. Corwin, you have the bridge. I won't be long." Corwin watched as Sheridan ran from the bridge. He was more than a little surprised. Just how closely did the Captain feel for Delenn to do this?
He looked up at the Minbari fleet and swallowed. He was no Starkiller, but he'd studied the great man long enough.
He knew what to do.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Delenn straightened, hearing the warning alarm. She closed her eyes and thought of John. She wondered if he would hate her for this, but she knew that if he did, then she would accept it. There was no other option. She could feel her people dying. The Shadows were too strong, and the Minbari were too weak. Driven by pride and arrogance they had destroyed themselves just as surely as they were being destroyed by the Shadows.
She opened the door and left her room. Her people would come for her. They would take her before the Grey Council, and she would end this.
She stumbled as the ship rocked, but then she could hear the sound of fighting. Hitching her dress up slightly, she ran forward. She had to end this.
Rounding a corner, she entered one of the shuttle docking bays, to find it engulfed by Narns and Minbari, fighting, with gun and sword and pike. She heard the ringing of pike meeting katok, she heard the cries of the dying and the gasps of the wounded.
She closed her eyes and mouthed a silent prayer for forgiveness.
She had to find the leader of the Minbari. It was likely she would recognise him or her. The leader would certainly spot her. Slowly, she began working her way around the wall of the docking bay, avoiding the Narns, hoping she would pass unnoticed.
A Narn was dying at her feet, blood pouring from a neck wound. He reached out pleadingly to her, but she silently stepped aside, inwardly weeping.
She had not seen his desperate, pain-maddened thrashings, and stumbled over his arm, tumbling to the ground. She tried to crawl forward, but he had a grip on her ankle, his last wish not to die alone.
Above her were a Narn and a Minbari, sword and pike flashing, fighting with their ancient weapons of pride. They came close to her, and the Minbari fell. Delenn tried to crawl out of the way, but he fell across her back. She felt a blinding pain and a moment of blackness.
When she came to, the fight was almost over. The Narns were pulling back, but had fortified the main corridor out of the docking bay. The Minbari were slowly moving forward. Delenn gasped, closing her eyes against the pain as she crawled out from under the body which lay on top of her. Slowly she turned, and gently closed his eyes.
"Delenn!"
Oh, no.
She could see John rushing forward, PPG fire picking off the Minbari who were moving towards her. The Narns, inspired by his example, had begun a counter-charge. The Minbari rushed forward, driven by fury and by pride.
The whole ship shuddered again, and Delenn fell forward. John caught her quickly and held her tight. Oh, John, no. I didn't.... I never meant....
He suddenly let go and spun around, firing instinctively. The Minbari warrior fell, two shots striking her chest and head at point-blank range. Sheridan was not happy with something, however. He backed up against the wall and began fumbling with his weapon. The energy cap was exhausted.
Blood. So much blood. So much death. All her fault. Too much death....
"Forgive me, John," she muttered. She did not have a weapon, but she did not need one. Neroon and Draal had trained her in hand-to-hand combat well enough. She struck out at John's belly. His instincts warned him about the blow, but too late to block it. He stumbled, and she hit his neck. He fell, poleaxed. Delenn noticed something at his belt. It was her pike, the one Susan Ivanova had taken from her on Minbar, the one she had taken back from the future Susan Ivanova aboard Babylon 4, the one she had given to John in trust after they left Babylon 4.
The trust she had just betrayed.
She took the weapon from his belt, and saw a warrior standing above her. The warrior said just one word.
"Starkiller."
"He is to be left here," Delenn said. "Do you hear me? He is to be left here. I am Satai Delenn of the Grey Council, and I demand to be taken before the Council. This must end. Please, listen. This must end."
Again the warrior said just one word.
"Zha'valen."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Susan looked down at the defeated eyes of Lyta Alexander. The telepath had already accepted her death. Susan could see it. She was broken. She was finished.
Susan raised the pike. No more need to be afraid. No more waking in the middle of the night. No more hiding.
She looked at Marcus. He looked sick, desperate to do something, but unable to. The two Shadows formed a wall between him and Susan. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile....
Her head seemed to explode. She did not know if she actually screamed or if it was just in her mind, but she could feel the fear and the pain and the anguish all over again. It was a violation, an intimate sundering of a place she had only ever let her mother enter.
She screamed again, this time audibly. Lyta. But how...? The sleepers.... Welles had assured her that.... that.... the Vorlon. The Vorlon!
She felt the pike drop from her nerveless fingers. She kept screaming, over and over again. She fell to her knees, screaming until the scream was the only thing in her existence.
She could feel the Shadows backing away. They were no more immune to telepathically induced pain than was she. Less so, if anything.
The pain ended - or she thought it did. Her scream certainly didn't. She felt.... numb, lifeless, unable to move or breathe or speak or do anything except scream....
And scream....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Nowhere is the Darkness greater than in the fortress of Light....
Deathwalker waited alone in the quarters she had prepared for this eventuality. She could feel the Shadows moving outside this ship. They would win. Of course they would.
She understood the Shadows. She was not their servant, but their ally. If they had been active thirty or forty years ago, her people might still be alive, might still be masters of the galaxy.
The Dilgar were dead, and would never rise again, but they would be remembered.... She would build their monument, and how ironic it would be that the very race that had destroyed hers would create that monument on the ruins of the very race that had sheltered her.
Not for nothing was she called Deathwalker. She had made preparations.... Her monument of blood was only just beginning.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lyta crawled out from behind Susan. The Shadow agent had slumped down almost on top of her. She was still screaming.
Lyta was not sure exactly what she had done. She remembered the beating, she remembered the questions and Welles' harshly ironic and scathing verbal assault on her. She remembered the sleepers. She remembered reaching out to touch Marcus' mind and not being able to. She remembered a threat....
And she remembered one word. A word spoken in her mind by a voice she still did not understand.
"NO!"
And she had lashed out. Subconsciously, not understanding what or why or how, she lashed out with her powers, creating agony with a thought.
All she could see was Marcus. When he held her, for a moment she could forget where she was. For a moment she could take pleasure in the warmth of his presence.
But just for a moment....
The Shadows were moving. She saw them a mere instant before Marcus did, and she pushed him aside. She could hear the voice speaking to her, slowly and cautiously, directing her. She closed her eyes and reached deep inside, working past the sleepers, working past the pain and the numbness and the fear....
She lashed out again. The Shadows stopped and faltered. One of them bowed down, lowering its.... she thought it was its head. The other one hesitated, as if recognising the taint of its ancient enemy within her.
Marcus acted. Scooping up Ivanova's discarded pike, he struck at the nearest creature. He was not skilled with such a weapon, but that hardly mattered. Wielding it almost like a baseball bat, he gripped its end in both hands and swung it....
The first Shadow crumpled, its forelegs twitching. Marcus bashed its neck, once, twice, three times.... It stopped twitching.
"Marcus!"
Lyta lost concentration for a moment, and the second Shadow rushed forward. It raised its foreleg and tore across Marcus' chest. He fell back, and she struck out mentally again. The Shadow seemed unaffected. It certainly continued its charge over the fallen Marcus.
Acting on instinct with a weapon he had never before used, Marcus pushed up one end of the pike. The Shadow ran on to it with a sickening crunch and fell back. Marcus staggered to his feet and swung out with the pike as he had last time....
Lyta did not need telepathy to register the feelings of nausea and tiredness within him. She felt them as well, but she didn't care. He dropped the weapon and winced at the pain of his injuries. She rushed forward and embraced him tightly, not caring about their pain, just caring that they were together.
She kissed him, for the first time without touching his mind with hers. It felt.... better this time. Not as invasive. Ivanova had called her a mental rapist, and that felt true. Lyta had never felt more ashamed of the abuses to which she had put her powers.
She did not sense Ivanova's attack. She had not even noticed that Ivanova had stopped screaming. Marcus had.
He threw Lyta aside and moved forward to confront Susan. She had picked up the pike, stained with blood and ichor and chitin. There was a madness in her eyes, a look of intense grief and anguish and a blood-rimmed, raging red fury....
She had already started her strike when Marcus pushed Lyta out of the way. It had been aimed at Lyta, but she seemed helpless to redirect it, and Marcus seemed just as helpless to stop it.
Ivanova wielded the weapon consummately. She had held it for nearly a year after all. It was almost a part of her.
Lyta later supposed that she had tried to pull the blow back at the last minute, as if she realised who she was attacking, but too late.
At the time Lyta could not notice this. She only saw the pike tear into Marcus' chest, ripping apart the skin, crushing bone and muscle as it did so.
His heart broke.