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| Volume 2: The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams | Part I: The Cost of Alliances |
THERE are few things as horrible as discovering something familiar while trapped in an unfamiliar place. It is a reminder of things lost, perhaps never to be regained; it brings back the memory of the familiar which has been superseded by the present; and it is a harsh burst of reality.
Neeoma Connally, Flight-lieutenant of Starfury Squadron Alpha of the destroyer class starship Parmenion, had just encountered an element of the familiar while in a most unfamiliar place. Out on patrol while trying to find the Streib ship responsible for numerous attacks on merchant ships from the devastated world of Tuchanq, her group was attacked by a ship their reports indicated to be the Streibs they were searching for. Overpowered with ease, and with only just enough time to launch a distress signal, Connally had been captured. What had become of the rest of her patrol, she did not know.
Now, somehow, she was held on what was presumably the Streib ship, witnessing a meeting between two aliens, one of which was presumably a Streib and another which definitely wasn't, when the meeting was interrupted by a communication.
From a human.
So much for the familiar.
"Ah, Ambassadors, a pleasure to talk with you."
Polite, civilised, urbane. The voice belonged to someone very much like the English teacher Connally had always hated in college until she realised she'd learned the secrets of the world from him. This voice possessed a creepiness that the English teacher had lacked. An intense aura of superiority only just disguised by the fact that this person, whoever he was, had a job to do, and was going to get it done.
She tried to lift herself up to see the communications screen and thereby the face of the human who was speaking. Alas, her legs had other ideas. She had no idea what was holding her down and she didn't want to speculate. Some sort of gravitation, magnetic thing, she supposed. The Streibs certainly seemed advanced enough to have such technology.
"Ambassador Sarbacher," the human pronounced the complicated Streib name effortlessly, with all the hissing, clicking and flawless enunciation Connally recognised in high-ranking diplomats. She had a feeling she ought to know this person. "And you, emissary. It is an honour."
"Drakh...." hissed the other alien, the one who looked as if he were trapped behind rows of crystal, each one glinting off a facet of him. "I am Drakh."
"How are the negotiations going?"
"Well," answered Sarbacher, his - or her? - alien mouth not delivering System English as well as the human's voice coped with the Streib name. "Your.... name?"
Something arose in Connally's mind - something from Captain Ben Zayn's reports. The Streibs held names to be very valuable things, a part of the essence that made someone what they were. Asking for your name was a sign of great respect. Apparently. Ben Zayn had actually been on the Streib homeworld, so she supposed he knew what he was talking about.
"Sir Gaheris," came the reply. "I am authorised to act for my Government in this matter. Both of your authorities have all the relevant information, and so I am here for just one question. Do we have your support?"
"Yesss...." hissed Drakh. "When you need us.... call our name.... We will come."
"Thank you. Your support is welcome. And you, Ambassador Sarbacher?"
"Need more, first...." The Streib seemed to be making a great effort with the language. Something suddenly struck Connally. The Streib was not using a translator. Whether Drakh's weird blue ball thing was working as a translating device she didn't know, but the Streib was actually speaking English.
Where had they learned English? From Ben Zayn? Or somewhere else?
"Spoils...." the Streib said, awkwardly. "What do we get?"
"You get the entirety of the Non-Aligned Worlds for your personal, private playground," replied Sir Gaheris. Typical, Connally thought, not even a proper name. Just a codename. "We have no interest in that area, but we know you do. The question is this.... can you get what you want with the Minbari around?"
"No."
"Then help us and we both get what we want. The Drakh here are willing to help us remove the Minbari as a force in this galaxy. Alone, they might be enough. If you provide your aid, then I know we will be able to beat them."
"Need.... more."
"I see. How much more, exactly?"
"Minbari.... Need promise that we.... have Minbari prisoners.... Have their technology.... You take their world. We take their people."
"We have no interest in their world, and less in their people. You can take whatever prisoners you deem necessary. And as for their technology.... we will be happy to share whatever we discover with you. Concrete treaties can be worked out later. What matters now is that we come to some form of agreement."
"We are wary.... We remember the Minbari."
"Ambassador Sarbacher, the Minbari destroyed our homeworld, just as they nearly did to yours. They attacked our new world when all we wanted was to survive, and they were stopped. Soon, we will be taking the war to them, and when we do we plan on leaving not one Minbari alive for a million light years in any direction. We have allies, we have the Drakh. We would like you. All we desire is the eradication of the Minbari. Help us achieve that, and you can have whatever you like. Well?"
A momentary hesitation, and then, "Yes."
"Good. Thank you, Ambassadors. My aides will be in contact to clarify further details. It has been good doing business with you."
The light faded from the panel and the voice stopped. Connally fell back on to the floor, wrestling with what she had just heard. The two aliens turned back to each other and began to speak in a language she did not know at all.
Leaving aside the fact that the Proxima Resistance Government was making a deal with these races to go against the Minbari, Connally was left with the question of why she had been left here to hear it. Surely the Streib had seen that she had recovered consciousness? Then why let a prisoner overhear such valuable information?
And why did she feel she was going to regret finding out?
She lay still for a few minutes, listening to the two aliens share whatever conversation it was they were having. Not having met any members of these races before, she was at a loss to understand any of what they were saying. She did know enough to be sure that she didn't like either of them. The Drakh in particular. Something about the way it smelled of rotting meat made her nauseous, and its skeletal features brought up long-buried memories within her, of stories her grandfather had told her about demons and ghosts. She hadn't believed them then, but the old man could easily have been talking about the Drakh without realising it.
Several minutes later she discovered first-hand, as the Drakh turned to her. "Human...." it hissed. Its voice sounded.... it sounded like the whisper of her worst nightmares. The ball it was holding was flashing, and she could see little sparks of lightning beneath its surface. She began to wonder if it had more uses than as a translation device.
"You heard?" asked the Streib, also stepping forward. Connally was silent, looking up at the two aliens before her. "You heard?"
Making a twitching gesture she couldn't quite identify, the Streib reached out towards her, tapping gently at the wall just above her head. She screamed as a sudden burst of agony shot through her entire body. Something like an electric shock, but not quite. Much more painful.
"You heard?"
"Yes," she replied, breathing in deeply. "Yes, I heard."
"Was he.... sincere? Was there falsehood in him?"
"How should I know?"
The two aliens were silent, evidently trying to digest her particular torture resistance gambit. For a moment she thought that Sarbacher was about to activate the shock again, but it did not.
"You are human," hissed the Drakh. It bent down, its body almost folding in half as it did so, and it took her hand. She recoiled. Its.... hand - if that's what it was - was dry and scaly. She could feel something rippling beneath the surface of its fingers. Almost like little black worms.
"You are human. You will know. Do they cheat us?"
One of the Drakh's fingers squeezed the bridge between her thumb and forefinger and she spasmed violently. This was not the electric shock of a moment ago. This was.... a primaeval fear, ancient terrors rising to the fore past thousands of years of civilisation. She could see its skull-face looming at the forefront of her thoughts. She could feel millennia flowing through her mind, the passing of time, the sheer ancient, dark power surging through its body. It was a violation of the most intimate kind.
She let out an involuntary scream and her arm flew up over her head, trying to push the face away. Her fingers brushed the blue ball the Drakh carried in its other hand.
Power poured through her fingertips as she touched it, and there was a blinding flash of light. She could feel the Drakh fall back, and the dim silhouette of the Streib covering its eyes as it staggered away.
When sight returned to Neeoma Connally she discovered that whatever force had held her was gone, and that the blue ball was on the floor. The Drakh was floundering, almost - and absurdly - like a turtle placed on its back. The Streib, however, was recovering its feet, and making for the ball.
Connally got there first, scooping it up and leaping to her feet. The sight of the Drakh trying helplessly to rise had wiped away her primal fear. It was not shimmering as much now, and it looked like nothing more than an especially ugly alien.
Sarbacher was moving in on her, and Connally reacted. She wasn't sure how to use the ball, she simply held it and thrust her hand outwards. For a brief moment her entire frame of vision expanded so that she could see everything around her. For that short instant, she could see the entire ship, inside and out; she could see them hanging in the infinity of space; she could see the stars, and the skies, and the luminous gases that lit up around her like fireworks.
Then the moment ended and all she saw was the smoking body of the Streib ambassador lying on the floor.
The Drakh had managed to scramble over to her side. Connally had a feeling that it was calling for help, but something instinctively held her back from using the ball against it. Perhaps an idea that the weapon would not workagainst one who had once wielded it?
Either way, she now knew where they were, and where Commander Corwin was being held, and how to get there.
Finding the door she needed, Neeoma Connally ran out into the dark innards of the Streib ship, bearing with her the seeds of her eventual damnation.
* * * * * * *
"If I might make a small suggestion, yer 'onner?"
"No," snapped Londo Mollari. "You may not." He was already regretting his decision. Of all the ships at Kazomi 7 he could have sneaked aboard and stolen, it had to be this one. Admittedly, actually stealing it had been a stroke of genius - he thought to himself, very pleased with having come up with the idea - but the human who owned it was annoying beyond words. Fortunately, they had arrived at their target destination. All they had to do now was negotiate their way across this worthless, barren rock, find these Vindrizi things and get one of them back to Kazomi 7 and the technomages.
Simple.
Londo could swear his life was getting worse day by day, but at least there were mitigating factors. He wasn't in the company of any of his wives for a start.
"We are ready," spoke up the first of his companions. Shaal Lennier - poet, card sharp and not all that bad a person to have at your back in a bar fight either. Londo had discovered that one earlier.
"Will you be all right?" he asked his second companion. She did not look anywhere near all right. Her every movement seemed an effort and each breath she took could be heard from the other side of the hold. He had known fusion explosions make less noise.
"I will be fine," rasped Delenn. Not for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of bringing her along, but if the technomages said she had to come here, then she had to come here. Insanity of the worst order, but who was he to argue with a technomage?
"And I'm fine too, yer 'onner."
"Shut up," Londo said to the human captain. "Now listen, we are going to lock you up in one of your cargo containers while we go off and find.... whatever it is we're looking for. There's plenty of food in there, so you shouldn't have any problems. We don't know how long we will be away for, but take heart from the fact that if we don't return, you'll undoubtedly starve to death.
"If we do return, take us back to Kazomi Seven, and you can be on your way again. Clear?"
"Of course, yer 'onner. Clear as crystal, sir. Name's Captain Jack, by the way."
"Oh, is it?" Londo paused, then added as an afterthought, "good for you."
Ah, madness! Fools to the left of me and Minbari to the right.
He didn't know which group was worse.
* * * * * * *
And not far away, another ship had made its way on to the planet where Valen had once stood and fought and brought light to the Darkness. Unlike Londo and his companions, this ship had not been noticed. The Soul Hunters were clever enough to avoid even Sech Durhan's capable defences and shielding.
Drawn by the smell of death, they came on, sensing with every footfall the aura of a noble and brilliant soul dying.
* * * * * * *
Elsewhere, an equally noble soul was on the verge of death, although the Soul Hunters were nowhere in sight.
Commander David Corwin's muscles suddenly decided to start working and he ducked under the sweep of the Narn's blade, rolling over and staggering to his feet. He still felt groggy, but his instincts were able to override such handicaps for the moment. Time enough to rest later.
The Narn spun around, displaying a speed quite rare for one of his kind, and leapt at Corwin, who was looking around frantically for a weapon.... something. Anything!
Corwin flung himself forward, throwing his entire bodyweight at the Narn. He felt a brief flash of pain as the sword sliced across his outstretched arm, but he did experience the satisfaction of knocking the Narn off his feet.
Both fell tumbling to the floor and rolled around. Corwin was all too aware of his opponent's superior strength, but he had spent too much time practising hand-to-hand combat with Ko'Dath and members of her Narn Bat Squad aboard the Parmenion not to know a few of the little vulnerabilities of the species.
Squirming out from the Narn's bear-hug grip, he swivelled along the floor and kicked out at his leg, hitting him just on the sensitive area above the knee. His opponent howled in pain and tried to scramble to his feet. Corwin launched another kick and saw him tumble back to the floor.
Carefully skirting around the floundering Narn, he scooped up the long sword and stood over its owner.
"Who are you?" he asked. "Do you work for the Streibs?"
"Work for them!" spat the Narn. "I'm just as much a prisoner here as you, human."
"Then why did you attack me?"
The Narn slumped to the floor and rolled on to his back. "Everything else I've met here so far has tried to kill me. Why not you?"
"You don't think it would be easier to get out of here alive if we both worked together?" Corwin asked.
The Narn laughed. "Human, during our last war with the Centauri, I was trapped on a colony world a long way behind Centauri lines. For over two months I fought my way back to our base. At one point I was surrounded by over forty Centauri patrolling the area looking for me.
"I have never in my life felt more powerless than I do now.
"There is no escape from here, human."
"All things are possible," Corwin replied. "David Corwin, Commander, of the Parmenion."
"G'Dan, scout attached to the fifth Kar'an of Warleader G'Sten."
"Well, G'Dan, I wouldn't give up hope just yet. We'll get out of here."
"And how, may I ask?"
Corwin smiled and half-leant, half-fell back against the wall. "Before I came out here I had a subcutaneous tracer implanted. My companions will know where I am and will be able to find us."
G'Dan let out a typically Narn-esque snort. "The Streibs will have thought of things like that. They would detect transmissions across any standard frequency."
"Who said anything about standard frequencies?"
G'Dan shook his head. "Good luck to you, human. You are just insane enough to believe that you can do it as well."
"Optimism and insanity," Corwin mused. "Yes.... I think I see the connection."
* * * * * * *
Sinoval's eyes were closed, his limbs still, only the merest hint of breath showing in his body. To anyone watching he looked at peace with the world.
He was not. Sinoval hated meditation and had done since he was a child. He was not a priestling, needing so much time simply to organise his thoughts. He was a warrior and a leader of warriors, capable of evaluating a situation and determining a course of action instantly.
Or at least.... he should be.
All Sinoval could see was the sight of his ships being torn apart in the skies above Proxima.
The fact remained that his judgement had let him down. He had believed Deathwalker would be easy to depose. He felt no guilt for her presence amongst the highest échelons of Minbari warrior society - that had occurred before his ascension. But not removing her given the opportunity - there he had failed.
Sinoval twitched, and muttered angrily to himself as he resumed the meditation position. More foolishness. Durhan had said that he needed to learn here. Then fine, let him learn. Further training with the pike, strategy sessions, physical exercise. Meditation was the resort of the priestling.
And yet sometimes it produces unexpected results.
Sinoval's eyes shot open and he rose gradually, unsure of what he had sensed. He looked around slowly. The room in which he had been meditating was unadorned save for a slanted bed next to the far wall and a small collection of machinery next to it. These were Durhan's quarters in the small complex he had built here. It stood to reason that Durhan would bring with him the means of forging the weapons that had made him legendary.
"Meditation has never been your greatest skill, has it, Sinoval?" remarked Durhan dryly. He was standing next to Sinoval, observing his meditations. "Perhaps that is where I failed. Had I paid more attention to your spiritual development and less to the art of war...."
"Had you done so, I would never have risen as far as I did, Sech Durhan. But that is for another day. There are intruders here."
Durhan made a gesture of wry surprise. "Yes, I know. My defences located a small ship landing here not an hour ago. I do not know what they want, but they cannot pose much of a threat. One of the Vindrizi has been sent to meet them."
"Them? Sech Durhan, there are Shagh Toth here."
"Soul Hunters? Are you sure?"
"I can taste them in the air. I am sure."
Durhan made a steepling gesture with his fingers. "Shagh Toth only come when there is death. Which of us will die? Which of us possesses a soul strong enough to tempt them to come here?"
"You? I? These Vindrizi? It does not matter why they are here. What matters is that they are. Can your defences locate them?"
"I am sure, but the Vindrizi are not warriors, Sinoval. That is why they are here. You are. Perhaps this is a test. Find these Shagh Toth, Sinoval. Find them and destroy them."
Sinoval quashed down an ancient, deep-rooted fear of becoming a Shagh'Rath'een - a Soulless One. He was a warrior, after all, and he was not afraid.
"Do you need a weapon?" asked Durhan.
"No," he replied. Sinoval had discarded his pike - given him by Durhan himself many cycles earlier. Until he was worthy of it, he would not claim another one. His weapons would have to be his own courage and convictions.
As he left, he wondered if this was a part of his penance - to face the greatest fear of his people.
* * * * * * *
"Well?"
"I can pick him up all right. He's still alive. He's been under quite a bit of stress lately, but everything seems fine."
"Good."
Captain Sheridan was still not entirely sold on this idea, proposed by Corwin and Lyta, but he had to admit that it was working. He supposed part of his resistance to the plan was that he didn't like the thought of using David or any of the other Starfury pilots as sacrificial lambs to find the Streibs. Corwin had accepted it, though. In fact he'd been the one to suggest it. From Ben Zayn, both of them knew that the Streibs took prisoners for testing and experiments. Why not use that habit against them?
They had found the débris of the destroyed Starfuries easily enough - using the distress signal Corwin had sent out. The path of the Streib ship had gone roughly along expected lines.
But just in case....
The idea of using a tracer of some kind was not new. Indeed, Sheridan remembered Susan using one to keep track of his movements. This was slightly different however.
This was emitting signals on a telepathic wavelength.
He had no idea how it worked, and he didn't want to know. What mattered was that Lyta could now calculate where Corwin - and therefore the Streibs - were. Questions as to whether any telepath could really do something like this had gone unanswered, and his silent concerns about the changes in Lyta Alexander had gained more substance.
Lyta was still no more welcome in Sheridan's company than he was in hers, but she was at least getting the job done. Good. He did not trust her, but he did admire her skills.
He would have admired her skills even more if he'd known who else would be waiting for them apart from the Streibs when they left hyperspace.
* * * * * * *
Ah, chaos, Londo would later think, once he had calmed down enough to be able to afford the luxury of thought, such a wonderful thing. One moment you are ambling about your business as happy as a Pak'ma'ra in a morgue and then the next, everything has gone so wrong that you can't even think, and when you can think again, it's far too late to do anything about it.
The last thing he could remember seeing was Delenn slumping and falling over the edge of the ravine, disappearing from view. Lennier had been more concerned with the sight in front them - the strange alien he had called Shagh Toth who had appeared from nowhere. The alien had lashed out with a strange weapon that had sent Lennier completely flying, leaving Londo staring at the business end of what looked like a combination of a kutari sword, a Minbari fighting pike and a very large ion cannon.
Working on the principle that he who fights and runs away lives to run away another day, Londo had begun a cautious attempt at flight, only to fall victim to the same unstable terrain that had just claimed Delenn - admittedly with some help from this Shagh Toth thing.
He was certain that his slide downwards had been the longest and most unpleasant two years of his life. Miraculously, he was still conscious when he hit the bottom, and he immediately began scrambling to look for Delenn, the sinking feeling in his stomach testifying to the unmentionable thought that she had not survived her fall.
He looked up to see, of all things, another Minbari - appeared as if out of nowhere. He was dressed in the black garb of a warrior, but his clothes were badly askew. If Londo had been in any condition to notice that sort of thing, he might have realised that this was no normal warrior.
"Get away from here," the Minbari had said. Go back that way - " He pointed down the length of the ravine. "You will be safe there."
Londo had not had much experience with members of the Minbari warrior caste, and the way this one had simply taken complete control and was treating him as less than an infant was somewhat annoying. Still, it was definitely a case of 'rather him than me....'
"I have friends," he gasped. "They...."
"I will take care of them. Now go."
One look at the Minbari's stern expression and Londo backed away, heading in the direction indicated. He glanced back to see the other moving further up the ravine to where Delenn must undoubtedly have fallen. He wondered if this warrior and Delenn knew each other. He doubted it was a coincidence that both of them were here at the same time.
He had just been on the verge of regaining his powers of reason - and a hint of shame at having left the battle so early - when he ran into another Minbari, wearing a sort of grey version of the warrior's attire.
"Greetings, Londo Mollari," this Minbari said. "Welcome to our home."
For Londo, any hope for rationality in the universe pretty much ended there.
* * * * * * *
"What the hell are they?"
"No idea, sir," replied Guerra. "Never seen ships like that before."
Captain Sheridan sat back in his chair, studying the tactical displays before him. The Streibs were not alone here. Alongside the big ship positively identified as a Streib mother ship, were two smaller vessels.
"Any chance they're Streib ships as well?"
"Anything's possible."
Sheridan turned to Lyta. Her eyes were closed and she looked tense, as if trying to shut out a sound she didn't want to hear. "Commander Corwin is on that ship, sir," she said, her voice hoarse. "So is one of the other Starfury pilots. Their tracers are still working fine...."
"What else?"
"I don't know. There's.... something else. Something that's.... Those other ships.... they.... I don't know what they are, but they.... hurt!" Lyta threw her hands up over her ears. "I'm sorry.... I.... can't."
"Captain," shouted Guerra. "They're coming towards us."
"Ah, hell. Launch Starfuries. Target the Streib ship with left and right broadsides, but hit engine systems only. Commander Corwin is still on that ship."
"And the others?"
Captain Sheridan looked at the tactical displays again, studying the readouts from these strange ships. He wasn't sure what they were, but he knew that they were nothing he had ever seen before. Judging from the power readings, though, they were an easy match for the Parmenion.
His target here was the Streib ship. That was clear. And yet.... and yet.... looking at Lyta's reaction, looking at the readouts from the ships and the uncomfortable.... feeling that something was wrong, that those ships were not.... right, in some way....
"Broadcast a message in Interlac. Tell them that we have no quarrel with them, and that we will not attack them unless they take hostile action against us."
Sheridan took a deep breath. He didn't know what those things were. He did know that he didn't like them.
"They're coming in on attack vector. They're opening fire!"
"Hostile enough," he muttered. "Shoot them down."
* * * * * * *
I will not allow harm to come to my little ones, not here, in my great house.
How long had it been since Delenn had heard those words? Since those words had set her on the path of what she believed to be her destiny? That event in her life had been the point at which she genuinely began to believe, not just in Valen, but in her purpose in following his path.
And where had that path led her? To a lonely death on a barren planet.
She had sensed the arrival of the Soul Hunter mere moments before it actually appeared to her. She was not sure what Londo or Lennier had seen, but she had suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in her chest, agonisingly similar to that which she had felt before, when she had collapsed in John's arms.
She had fallen, her legs giving way under her, and then she had plunged out into space. She had scarcely felt the bumping and grinding as she rolled down the ravine, and she was already unconscious by the time she hit the bottom.
Except that she wasn't unconscious. Exactly.
I will not allow harm to come to my little ones.
She was not floating, not lying, not.... anything. She just was. And she could see before her the very same image of Valen she had seen in the temple as a child.
"Valen," she whispered. "Father, help me...."
I lay where you are now, he said, his voice every bit as beautiful as his appearance. I was bleeding, and dying, and I lay there for days until Marrain came to me. But my life was saved before he arrived.
There is something in this place, Delenn. Something here which saves us. Here, I brought light to the Darkness. I will not allow a greater darkness to be accomplished by the extinguishing of your light.
Help is coming for you, Delenn. You will not die here.
She tried to rasp out his name again, but she couldn't find her voice. Before her eyes, the vision of Valen was fading. She tried to reach out to him, but her muscles were as lead.
Before her eyes, the beautiful image of her saviour was being replaced by the hateful sight of the Soul Hunter. The third eye staring at her from his forehead glowed the bright golden which signified that, despite anything Valen said, her life would soon be at an end.
* * * * * * *
The floor beneath them shook and G'Dan winced as he fell, stumbling against the wall.
"I told you," Corwin said. "That'll be the Captain easily enough."
"The Starkiller," G'Dan muttered to himself. "Yes, the noise would seem to say so."
"Oh, ye of little faith."
"I have faith, human. I have faith that our deaths will not be swift." Corwin could see G'Dan looking around. Why, he did not know, as there was precious little in this cell worth looking at. Not even a door or....
Not even a door?
Corwin blinked. Materialising in the wall opposite them was something which certainly looked like a door. G'Dan snarled. "They're here!" as he leapt forward. Corwin started as well, darting in G'Dan's wake.
What happened next was not quite clear. There was a flash of light and G'Dan cried out, falling to the ground. There was a door-shaped hole where a part of the wall had been and standing in it.... standing in it was a shape from Corwin's worst nightmares. The form of death.
"Human...." it hissed, the voice rasping like steel across marble. "You know.... Sheridan."
Corwin blinked. What did this thing know about the Captain? He swallowed harshly and tried to stagger back. The form - indistinct and shimmering in the doorway - raised what might have been an arm. Something blue flashed....
G'Dan roared and rolled forward, crashing into the alien. Both of them fell through the doorway and out of sight. Corwin managed to reassemble his wits and charged forward, through the door, to see G'Dan grappling with the creature. It was still terrifyingly alien, but it seemed more.... solid now.
Corwin kicked out at what he presumed was the alien's leg. It staggered and G'Dan threw it to the ground. A blue ball rolled from its hand....
Corwin turned away as G'Dan brought his foot down on the alien's head. There was a sickening crunch as the head was crushed open.
"What is that thing?" he muttered, trying to see it more clearly. Even in death it seemed only half in tune with this world.
"Demon," G'Dan spat. "They came to our world a thousand years ago. They cried in the night and walked with the Darkness that engulfed our people. G'Quan drove them away in the end. These.... things.... serve a greater evil than any of us can imagine."
"Shadows," Corwin whispered. He was still staring at the dead demon when the sound of footsteps alerted him and he looked up.
"Commander," panted Lieutenant Connally. "You would not believe what I've just seen...."
"Ditto," he muttered. "Is there a way out of here?"
"I think there are life pods nearby." She seemed to be concentrating very hard. "This.... way. This way." Corwin noticed something in her left hand, something she was trying to keep concealed.
"You've met these things before."
"Yes. They're called Drakh, and they've made some sort of alliance with the Streibs." The entire ship rocked again and Corwin nearly fell. Keeping his balance was difficult, especially so near to the dead Drakh. He found he wanted to be as far away from it as he could.
"Come on, sir. And...?"
"His name's G'Dan," Corwin pointed out. "He's with us."
Corwin looked at the Narn. He was praying, rasping harsh words in his bitter tongue. Corwin spoke a little Narn, just enough to recognise the sheer terror in G'Dan's voice.
He wondered just what these Drakh were, to inspire such hatred and terror in one living being.
* * * * * * *
The Soul Hunter could feel Delenn's life slipping away from her. He could practically taste the ebbing of her being - a beautiful sensation. He could see the path of her life, reliving it through her eyes.
Yes, she was more than worthy of salvation, to be preserved for immortality in his collection.
He had no need to wonder about the human's motives in sending him here. He knew that Morden represented the ones who had helped his people for so long. Morden's information had guided him here - to this magnificent sight of Delenn's dying moments. In exchange, Morden had asked for very little. A simple enough price.
The Soul Hunter looked up, and snarled. Not now. Not when he was so close.
Minbari.... Weak, bloodless, lost.... There were a few worthy of salvation, but only a few. Delenn was one. This one.... The Soul Hunter could know who the newcomer was, looking at him through Delenn's eyes. Delenn knew this one.
A warrior. Proud, and noble. A second worthy here. Sinoval of the Wind Swords clan.
Yes, he remembered this one. He had been present when Dukhat had died. It had been Sinoval who had prevented the rescuing of Dukhat's soul. And then later.... at the Battle of the Line....
The Soul Hunter glanced down at Delenn. She was clinging to life by the merest thread. He would have time. Those of his order did not kill to obtain their souls - they waited for death to come in its proper time - but they were permitted to kill in defence of their purpose.
He drew his weapon - his holy weapon, the means that would guarantee the salvation of two souls.
And rose to meet Sinoval's onslaught.
* * * * * * *
If Sheridan was surprised by how fast the Streib ship was, he made no comment about it. The Parmenion was fast enough to catch their enemy, and it would do so. Two members of his crew were aboard for one thing.
The other ships were worse - smaller, faster and stronger. For the moment, his Starfuries were keeping them at bay, but he couldn't see that lasting long. They weren't easy to target, as if they weren't quite solid.
"Are we getting anywhere yet?" he barked.
"They keep slipping away from us," replied Guerra. "Wait.... Got one!"
The Parmenion's left broadside opened fire and the strange ship was blown apart. Starfuries soared out of the way of the wreckage. Sheridan could swear he heard a brief scream as it died - was destroyed, he mentally corrected himself.
"Keep up with the Streibs. Don't let them get away."
"They aren't trying," replied Guerra. "They just seem to be.... sitting there."
"Have we taken out their main engines?"
"Yes, but.... oh my God. The.... the other ship. They're turning on the Streibs."
"What?"
Outside, the remaining Drakh ship turned on its recent allies, raining fire upon the powerless Streib.
"Send out life pods!" Sheridan ordered, but even he could see that it was too late. He helplessly watched the displays as the Streib ship exploded, torn apart by the force of the attack.
"Destroy them," he whispered, but he doubted anyone who had seen this needed any urging.
The Drakh ship turned from the ruins of the Streib and came to face the Parmenion. It soared forward, directly at the destroyer. Sheridan could hear whispering in his mind.
One blast from the forward batteries and it was all over.
"Any hint of survivors?" he whispered as he fell back into his command seat. He was shaken. He'd never seen such a desperate rush towards suicide before.
Why? To hide evidence, to kill off the Streibs, or the prisoners, or...?
"None so far. There's too much wreckage there for us to be certain."
Who were these new aliens? Allies of the Streibs.... or enemies.... or...? Too many questions. Always too many questions.
He turned to look at Lyta. Her face was pale, her eyes closed. A tear of exhaustion trickled down her face. "He's alive," she whispered. Lyta had hardly been able to do anything during the battle. Whatever had touched her at its beginning had rendered her next to catatonic throughout its progress. "Both of them are alive."
"We're picking up a life pod," Guerra breathed. "Three life signs. It's a bit shot up, but otherwise...."
"Bring them in."
"Captain?" Lyta asked, her voice so quiet as to be barely audible. "What now?"
"We return to Tuchanq to let them know we've opened the shipping lanes again, and then we get back to Sanctuary."
"What about those other aliens?" Sheridan turned, seeing the sheer terror in her eyes, but terror mixed with something else. Not anger, but.... a sense of recognition awarded to an old enemy. One who had been thought defeated for good.
"They're not our concern," he replied. "Not yet anyway. I'd be very, very surprised if this was the last we've heard of them though.
"Whatever they are."
* * * * * * *
Sinoval was used to pain of the flesh. Even when he was much younger it had scarcely bothered him. During a battle with a human capital ship in the early days of the war he had broken his headbone open when his flyer had crashed into an asteroid. He had been told later that he had come within moments of dying, from having the sensitive layer of membrane that protected his brain torn open. The pain had been indescribable, but he had remained conscious long enough to pilot what remained of the flyer out of the asteroid's gravity and escape from the influence of the human ship. Even today, his headbone still bore the long scar where it had been broken.
Compared with that, therefore, the pain of the wounds in his side, arm and leg were as nothing.
The Soul Hunter had backed off a little now, unnerved by the resilience of his adversary. Sinoval stepped over Delenn's body, guarding her. She was still alive - her breathing, shallow as it was, told him that much.
"Isil'zha veni," he rasped, advancing on his opponent. Valen had stood here, in these rocks, and not fallen. Neither would he.
"Valen," whispered the Soul Hunter. "Ah yes, the One, leader of your people, who passed beyond nine centuries ago. What do you know, Minbari, of your saviour? What do you know?"
There was no reply. There was no need for one.
"Minbari not born of Minbari. Thus runs your ancient saying, does it not? Thus runs the word of Valen. Minbari not born of Minbari. Minbari born of human."
Listen to me! Valen was human!
Sinoval tried to speak, but he could not. Words did not matter. He lunged forward. The Soul Hunter raised its weapon. It did not matter. There was nothing it could do against this righteous fury.
A minute later, Sinoval was standing above the dying body of his opponent and he at last found the power to speak.
"How do you know?" he asked. "How do you know?!"
The Soul Hunter began a last chuckle. "Do you not know, Minbari? We have Valen's soul...." Then it died.
Sinoval staggered away from the body, feeling at once sick and elated. He now knew where Valen was. He could free Valen, bring him back to his people. He could....
His soul, trapped for so long with these.... things.
His attention came swiftly back to Delenn. Kneeling beside her, he could see that she was dying. Her eyes were open, but rolled back into her head. Blood was dripping from a corner of one eye, marking out a trail down her face to the ground beneath her, her blood staining these rocks as Valen's had.
He looked with disgust at her human features, but he still reached out gently to touch her head. Her.... hair.... was dirty, and matted with blood and sweat. Little better than an animal. Her headbone had cracked open, and was dangerously fragile. Her body was trembling slightly. Her hands were curled into fists, her nails cutting into the soft skin of her palms.
Better to let her die here than to live on as this.... freak. Better to give her a quick death here. Without her, perhaps Minbar can achieve its destiny.... maybe even at my guidance.
Better by far to let her die. Her soul is hers. That at least is something.
Suddenly, Sinoval became aware of a blue nimbus surrounding her body. He stepped back, alarmed at what he was seeing, knowing what it was the instant he saw it, yet hoping - praying - that he was wrong.
"Valen," he whispered, watching in horror as Valen's form rose up, becoming one with the sky. In seconds, it was lost to view.
No.
"NO!"
Valen was here. Had been here. And had not appeared to him. Valen had appeared to her. Why her? Had his vision in the Dreaming been nothing more than a joke?
"WHY?"
There was no reply, save for the renewed regularity of Delenn's breathing. Her eyes were now closed, and her hands had relaxed. She was asleep.
Sinoval looked at her, a bloody and dangerous anger burning within him. Her, and not him. Why not me? Am I not worthy? Am I not worthy?!
He gently picked her up and held her close to his chest. It was surprising how light she was.
"You will not die here," he whispered to her. He doubted that she heard him. "You will.... not die here."
And no harm would come to her either. Not here in his great house.
* * * * * * *
"So, you will just.... let one of these.... Vindrizi come with us?"
Durhan made an exasperated sound. "If that is your negotiating technique, Minister Mollari, it is a wonder you rose as high as you did in your Government. I said I would not object to you asking one of them. They are all here. Ask."
Londo looked around. This had been a very weird day. The Minbari he had encountered in the ravine had returned, carrying Delenn with him. He had laid her down on what passed for a bed in this Gods-forsaken complex and then vanished. Lennier had already returned, his wounds shallower than they had looked. The mysterious alien who had attacked them was now dead. And these Vindrizi were actually willing to go with him.
"Ask," repeated Durhan.
"Er.... do.... any of you.... want to come with me?"
"I will," said one of them, stepping forward. "We were one with the technomages before. It is only fitting that we become one with them once again."
"Ah," said Londo. "Good." That was what he said. What he was thinking was more along the lines of, A Narn with some sort of alien bug thing in him is going to come back with us to the technomages, and that is it! Good Gods, has the entire universe gone mad, or was it always this way and I just hadn't noticed before?
What he said after that was, "And.... what are you called?"
"Vindrizi."
"Don't you have another name?"
The Narn smiled - as scary as sight as any Londo had ever seen. "Not any more."
"Ah. Well, sorry to hear that."
Great Maker, the universe hates me!
* * * * * * *
Morden smiled. "Well done. I'm very impressed."
The body before him had been, until recently, a Brakiri. Now it was a dead Brakiri. The shock of having the alien parasite removed from it had been fatal. A pity really, but still. These things had to be done.
The Vindrizi was now sealed in a very secure box for transport, all its magnificent storehouse of knowledge intact.
"We did not save her soul."
Morden looked at the Soul Hunter before him, one of the two he had sent after the Vindrizi. This one had been charged with the payment for Morden's information, the other with obtaining Delenn's soul - the information for which the Vindrizi was the price.
"Yes, I gather she's still alive. Minbari tend to do that. Very annoying, I grant you. But still, this wasn't a total loss. We are now in your debt.
"By the way, have you given any consideration to my offer?"
"We are still considering it."
"Ah, well. Take your time. Feel free. There's no need to rush."
Ah yes, Morden thought later, after receiving official notification of the acceptance of his proposal. It's been a good few days.
* * * * * * *
"I saw him. I saw Valen here."
"Then you are luckier than I, Sinoval."
"He did not speak to me. He did not even acknowledge my presence. Perhaps I am not.... Perhaps I never was, his chosen."
"Or perhaps you are simply not the one he would choose today. There is always tomorrow."
"So you say, Sech Durhan. But what if I am wrong?"
"We shall have to see. I fear that we have other concerns. For good or ill, our sanctuary here is now public. One of us is missing, simply disappeared."
"Attackers?"
"Possibly. My defences here are strong, but not flawless. We have neither the time nor the resources for that. He would not have gone off alone. I am worried, Sinoval."
"This is only the beginning."
"So it is. So it is."
* * * * * * *
Elsewhere, a similar conversation was taking place, between master and servant.
"They succeeded then, Elric. They are returning here."
Elric nodded. "So it would seem, Lord."
"What of her? Did she see that which she was meant to see?"
"I do not know, Lord. It.... is impossible to be sure. Nothing is clear regarding her any more."
"We will have to cure her. We have promised."
"But if we are wrong, Lord? What then?"
"For good or for ill, if they have succeeded in returning to us the knowledge that we lost, then she will have to be cured. We will be leaving this place soon. Then, we will not care."
"But what of the world we are leaving behind, Lord?"
"This world, as all others, will have to cope without us. For the moment, at least."
Elric paused abruptly and looked up. An ordinary person would merely have seen the darkness that formed the ceiling of this chamber. Elric saw a good deal more.
"They are coming," rasped Jamis, the One Above All.
"Why? For us?"
"Or perhaps for her?"
Above them, the skies of Kazomi 7 were filled with the arrival of Drakh ships. No more than an hour later, the killing began.