Next chapter | Top of this page | Contents page | Home page | Synopsis | Dramatis personae
| Volume 2: The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams | Part IV: The Long Fight |
"BEHOLD Cathedral. Gaze upon our home, Minbari, and despair."
Sinoval was far from despairing, but he was at least impressed. He had not been able to trace the Soul Hunters' homeworld - not even the Vindrizi had known. He had formulated a number of speculations based on his knowledge and experience, but he had not foreseen anything like this.
The Soul Hunters did not have a homeworld. Cathedral was a ship - massive, ancient, looming. It looked almost like a fortress, a castle floating majestically in space. There was no obvious sign of exterior weaponry, but it did not seem to need any. Looking at what he understood of the instruments before him, Sinoval guessed that penetrating the shields of that thing would be beyond the firepower of most races. Possibly even including the Minbari.
He was glad he had devised this method of getting inside. A frontal assault would have achieved very little.
As he studied the vessel, he wondered at the technology involved. Were the Soul Hunters really so advanced? The ship he was travelling in did not seem to be on the same level as this....
"Perhaps you have reconsidered this insanity, Minbari," snapped the Shagh Toth. "Perhaps you are...."
"Perhaps you should be silent," replied Sinoval, no trace of anger in his voice. He was.... calm. This was the hour before one of the greatest conflicts of his life. In the past he had felt a sort of childish excitement about an oncoming battle. Now he had seen how unproductive such emotions could be.
"Transmit the relevant recognition signals, or whatever it is you use," he ordered.
"And if I do not?"
Sinoval sighed. If all Soul Hunters were as argumentative as this one, he would not get anywhere. "Then I will kill you, and destroy your collection." That gave the Shagh Toth some pause. Snarling, it punched something into the control panel. Sinoval smiled. The Soul Hunter would assume that he would be prepared for any treachery and that he would have taken precautions. Sinoval was expecting treachery, but he had no hidden stratagems other than his purpose in coming here. Merely letting them think he did was enough.
"You will also send a message to your leader, letting him know I wish to see him immediately upon our arrival. Assuming you have not already alerted him to my presence here."
The Soul Hunter made a contemptuous gesture.
Sinoval did not waste time reconsidering his plan. He knew what it was, he knew what he was about and he had already reconciled himself to the risks. What more was there for him to do? He had long ago accepted the price he would have to pay if this worked, and it would be more than worthwhile.
"We will kill you, Minbari. We will tear your body to pieces, break you apart, utterly destroy every trace of your existence. We will...."
"You cannot kill me. You do not kill, Shagh Toth. That is your creed, is it not? You wait for death, rather than hastening its path. Killing is not your way. That is, assuming you actually do protect these souls you 'collect' and do not simply torture them."
"Barbarian! Weak, bloodless, pathetic Minbari!"
"I have managed to get you to bring me here, into the very heart of your lair. I do not know how weak that makes me."
"Then we will not kill you. But we will make you suffer for a very long time before you die, and when you die, we will rip your soul from you...."
"While torturing me?" They were beginning to dock, the whole ship becoming shrouded in darkness. Sinoval felt a momentary surge of excitement. Nearly. Nearly there.... "Pain would render my soul almost useless to you. The greater the agony of death, the harder it is to preserve the soul as it was in life, is that not so?"
"Where did you learn these things, Minbari? Where?"
"I have my sources."
The ship docked and came to a halt. "We are here," spat the Soul Hunter. "Prepare to draw your last breath."
"I am a warrior. I have lived every day of my life with my last breath ever in my mouth. You first, Shagh Toth."
Slowly, the Soul Hunter led him from the ship, out into the docking bay. Sinoval used no form of restraint. His nu'zhan knife was in his hand, and in any case this Soul Hunter had already fulfilled its purpose simply by bringing him here.
The docking bays were dark, but awesomely majestic. A sense of age hung around the whole place, as if it had remained untouched for millennia. Perhaps it had.
Well, thought Sinoval. Not any longer.
There were five Soul Hunters waiting for him, each one carrying a weapon of some kind. Their attire bore an unpleasant resemblance to that of the highest ranking warriors. A great deal of black, marked with silver. Their weapons, too, were similar to fighting pikes.
Sinoval pushed his guide aside. He had fulfilled his purpose.
Those standing before him were silent, like monumental statues waiting for the dead they guarded to rise anew. Their jewels glimmered dully, a faint light in a fortress of darkness.
"Greetings, " Sinoval said loudly. "I am Sinoval, Holy One of the Minbari. You will take me to your leader. Now."
"There is no need for that, Holy One Sinoval," said a voice. Emerging from the darkness, the guards making a respectful yet silent path for him, came another Soul Hunter, but this one was very different.
He was taller, prouder. He walked with the bearing of a king. As one leader to another, Sinoval recognised the power inherent within this being; but not just the power, the sense of authority, of conviction, of belief - in himself and in those he led.
His clothes were different too. Not the black and silver so reminiscent of the Minbari, but robes resplendent in gold and red, embellished with markings and symbols of older times. A long, sword-like weapon hung from one hip. It was curved, and seemed to sparkle in the darkness.
"I am leader here, Holy One Sinoval. Primarch Majestus et Conclavus. I do not leave my sanctuary often these days, but you.... you have aroused my curiousity."
Now that he was closer, Sinoval could see something else about this Primarch. An aura of great age. How many centuries had this one seen go by? How many deeds, wars, heroes and martyrs?
"I would take pleasure in killing you myself, but it has been so long since I saw a Minbari."
"Before you take any action," Sinoval said, quickly, but without undue haste. Always make them believe you are the one in charge. "There is a bomb planted in the ship I just arrived in. Should I die, it will inevitably explode, destroying not only the ship, but his entire collection as well."
"Ah," said the Primarch. "Minbari.... you have entered my fortress, assaulted and insulted my warriors.... waged war against my people, and now you.... you stand in my fortress and threaten me. Me!"
"You cannot kill me. You do not kill. That is your belief, is it not?"
"We do not kill for souls, Holy One. To protect our brethren, or our collections, we may, and do kill.
"Why are you here?"
"To make you an offer.
"I wish to lead you. I wish access to your every secret, leadership of your military, your espionage, your actions. I want to be privy to every scrap of knowledge you have. I want dominion and authority over every Shagh Toth in the galaxy."
"Shagh Toth is an insult," the Primarch noted. "But what you have just said is an even greater one. What can you possibly offer us that would pay for even a fraction of what you have just demanded?"
"Something which is worth far more to you. My soul."
* * * * * * *
The pain was not so great today. That itself was a good thing. She could still not walk unaided for more than a few steps. That was not a good thing.
Months had passed since the attack that had caused these injuries to Susan Ivanova, and she had still not fully recovered. She had been told she never would. The headaches, the convulsions, the fits of blindness and nausea.... these would remain with her always. But if she could walk, think, breathe.... that was all she needed for the moment.
There was a chime at the door, and she looked up. Her vision was quite cloudy, but it was improving. She wondered who it could be. Laurel, perhaps? Laurel had come by quite often recently. Susan half suspected it was because she had nothing else to do; she was still on 'stress' leave.
Susan suppressed a snort. She must be turning into a magnet for the lost and abandoned.
"Come," she said. "Laurel, good to...."
It was not General Laurel Takashima. Far from it.
"Greetings, Ivanova," said Ambassador David Sheridan, taking slow, measured steps into the room.
"Ambassador," she whispered. Susan had heard of his appointment here, but he had not come to see her at all since his arrival several months ago. He had sent members of his diplomatic staff to gather all her documents and records, but he had done this while she was still in the coma. After leaving Medlab, one of her first actions had been to go to speak to him, but he had refused to see her. Her messages to him were returned, and all she got from his office was a terse message that she would be sent for when needed.
"I have been trying to...."
"Shut up," he said. He did not shout, but he did not need to. "You have failed us, Ivanova. Failed us badly."
"What do you mean?" she asked, manoeuvring her wheelchair closer to him. "What do you mean? I've done everything you asked of me. I made the alliance here, I arranged for Delenn's exile, I...."
"And yet Delenn is still alive, and fomenting trouble elsewhere. And yet Captain Sheridan escaped you and is also fomenting trouble elsewhere. And yet the.... incident with Mr. Cole and Miss Alexander caused so much trouble with Security that I had a nightmare of a time stabilising it. And yet you completely failed to report anything about Mr. Bester and his visit here...."
"That's not my fault! You.... you said I'd never have to worry about telepaths again! YOU PROMISED ME I'D BE SAFE!"
"And if we'd promised you chocolate ice cream in bed every morning for the rest of your life would you have believed that? We asked you what you wanted, and you said you wanted to be safe and your secret to remain hidden from the telepaths. We said that we would do what we could, but ultimately we cannot smother you in cotton wool. Your position here was one of great authority and power, and yet you have failed us so completely...."
"It wasn't my fault!"
"No, of course it wasn't, but none of that matters at all now, anyway. I can deal with most of the fallout from your.... period as Ambassador here. No.... what I want to know is just what you did to our esteemed President."
"What.... I don't know what you mean...."
"Why did you not give him the Keeper as we ordered?"
"I did.... I.... I swear I did."
"Don't lie to me. He is displaying.... symptoms of independence. He is questioning my actions. He is developing a very dangerous sense of patriotism.
"Now maybe if the Earth Alliance were as mighty as it once was, none of these things would matter. We could easily have enough people around him to keep him as a mere figurehead. But this establishment is much smaller, and one man can make all the difference. We need a puppet, not a patriot. Why did you not implant him with the Keeper?"
"I did!"
"Then you did an incredibly poor job." Ambassador Sheridan turned to the door. "I do not think I will have need of your services much in the future, Ivanova. Your life is now your own, until I want it back."
"How can you say that...? My life.... I'm just as much a prisoner here as I was back on Earth. You promised me I'd be safe!"
"Goodbye." Ambassador Sheridan walked through the doorway and the door slid shut behind him.
"YOU PROMISED I'D BE SAFE!"
But the door did not hear her.
* * * * * * *
Alyt.... no, Satai Kozorr was having to admit that he might have made a serious error of judgement. Not just in taking part - however unwillingly - in the insanity which was engulfing Minbar at the moment. No, his current error was much closer to home, and much more personal.
The Togashi had not returned from its routine patrol. It was several weeks overdue at the occupied Beta Durani colony. The Administrator of the colony - a pathetic little priestling named Forell - had tried to warn him almost two weeks ago, but Kozorr had refused to listen.
He owed the pathetic little priestling an apology.
Probes sent out to trace the path of the Togashi had detected fragments of débris - very small, almost unnoticeable - and faint energy traces. The evidence seemed clear. The Togashi had been attacked and either destroyed or captured by forces unknown.
He looked at the data reports before him. Who could have done this? The energy signals did not suggest the Drakh, or the Enemy. The Streib remembered their last encounter with the Minbari far too clearly to risk another retaliation. The Centauri and the Narns were both too engrossed in their own private little war to risk outside involvement on the other side, and in any case neither possessed the firepower to take out a Minbari warship. The Earthers.... pah, what an absurd idea.
And yet....
No, even if they had been able to destroy a full warship, they would not have been able to do it so.... cleanly. Kozorr had witnessed scenes of battle between Earthers and Minbari before, and even where the Earthers had won, there had been a mass of débris. The whole sector of space had been practically lit up. No, this wasn't the Earthers....
Then who?
He sighed and muttered a brief prayer to Valen. He would have to tell Kalain, an option he had been trying to avoid. Kalain was becoming.... dangerously unstable.
Kalain would be in the Hall of the Grey Council, as he always was these days. He never left it, and yet he rarely stepped into the columns of light, the symbolic representation which made the Satai what they were.
Kalain had reasons for everything, of course. It was tradition that the leader of the Grey Council - which Kalain was, in Sinoval's absence - did not leave the ship, but.... there was very little else that was traditional about Kalain's actions these days.
The Hall seemed almost empty as Kozorr arrived. He had not changed into the robes of a Satai, preferring his warrior garb. It seemed.... more fitting. Kozorr did not really think of himself as Satai, he would be a warrior always.
There were ten columns of light, as usual. Nine for the Satai and the centre for the One. Only one was occupied.
Kats, sole Satai from the worker caste, was rooted to her column as if planted in the floor. She looked trapped, and her eyes were.... haunted. She too did not leave this Hall. He supposed Kalain would not permit it.
But where was Kalain?
"Satai Kozorr. Welcome to this Hall. Isil'zha veni."
Do not think his name, lest he come.
Resisting the instincts that warned him against Kalain, Kozorr turned as the warrior Satai emerged from the darkness. He bowed his head in what should have been a gesture of respect, but was instead more one of fear.
"Isil'zha veni, Satai." Kalain did not like to be addressed as Holy One, whatever the practical situation was.
"A perfect symmetry, is it not?" Kalain said, gesturing around at the columns of light. Kozorr's poor night vision could not see him very well, but he did not want to. Kalain had changed recently, physically as well as spiritually. He even.... smelled different. As if he were decaying.
"Valen created this for us, so that we would never forget our origins. You have seen the Starfire Wheel, have you not, Satai? A relic of older ways from older times. And yet.... it was the perfect vehicle for choice. The sacrifice of the leader so that the caste might triumph. Valen incorporated it here, so that we all stand, metaphorically, in the column of the Starfire Wheel.
"Except for those of us who stand outside the conventions decreed for us. Sinoval is one such. He would never be willing to sacrifice himself for others, no. That is not the way of the warrior. We live, Kozorr. We fight to live, not to die.
"I remember, when Shakiri was teaching me.... he spoke of life and death as being equal and opposite. Futile, one of the few things he ever said that was wrong. We live, Kozorr. The spark of life, the urge to survive.... it is the greatest passion of any living being. Yes, even the Earthers, even the priestlings.
"Valen set this here to remind us of that. Life.... is life. Strong, vibrant, powerful. Those who take that away.... deserve to be punished. Those who destroy the wonder of life must see at first hand the darkness of death.
"Is that not so, Satai Kats?"
"As.... you say, Satai," she whispered, her voice as quiet as a breeze over a battlefield, carrying with it the stench of the grave.
"Why have you come here, Satai Kozorr?"
Kozorr bowed his head again, formulating his thoughts in his mind. What Kalain was saying.... it made little sense. Kozorr knew of the Starfire Wheel; he had once even visited the temple where it was located. But.... He mentally shook his head. Focus on the present.
"The Togashi has not returned from patrol, Satai. Our probes indicate that it has been destroyed, by forces unknown."
"Yes, Kozorr. I knew that. It is not important."
"But, Satai...."
"Kozorr, what do you see when you look at one of our people?"
"I do not...."
"I see.... I see the beginnings of change. The wheel is turning, Kozorr, as it did a thousand years ago. We are entering a new cycle, and we are afraid of it. One will arise to change our society, as Valen did a thousand years ago, and Valeria millennia before.
"That one is Sinoval. He has gone to find Valen, to gain his blessing, to gain his wisdom, as Valen sought Valeria in the days before his ascension.
"It is my place to stand here and prepare our people for the day when Sinoval will return, bringing Valen with him. Acting in Sinoval's name, I will reforge us, melting away that which burns, and hardening that which will be made strong.
"What is the fate of one ship compared to the future of our people?
"The loss of the Togashi is not important, Kozorr. Investigate if you wish, but nothing anyone can do.... not Centauri nor Earther nor Enemy.... nothing can stop the force of history, of destiny.
"What we have built here will change, and the fires of our destiny will burn anything which opposes that. Ask Satai Kats. She understands now."
Kozorr cast his eyes across the Hall to the sole worker Satai. Her head was down. "Of course, Satai Kalain," he said slowly. "I.... apologise for burdening you with extra concerns. I.... am honoured to be by your side in this, and any contribution, however small, which I may make to the.... reforging of our society.... will be a proud one."
"Of course it will. Go on, Kozorr. Satai Kats and I must pray to Valen and to Sinoval, to help her acknowledge her sins and those of her caste."
Kozorr bowed, and hurried away as quickly as he could without appearing to flee. He did not want to hear what was happening to Kats in the Hall.
Outside he came across Deeron. Pausing, he bowed before her. She was Satai as well, but in personal authority and experience, she outranked him.
"You told him about the Togashi, did you not?" she asked.
"Yes, Satai," he breathed.
"Kalain is overburdened by his own sense of destiny at present. Do not.... add to his burdens. Continue to investigate the matter however, and report directly and only to me. Do you understand?"
"Of course, Satai."
"Good. Then go."
"Your will."
As Kozorr began to make his way to his quarters, at a slower pace this time, he momentarily turned back, thinking, just for a instant, that he caught a glimpse of anger in Deeron's eyes. But it was only there for a moment.
Just a moment.
* * * * * * *
Delenn was in pain. Nowhere near the agony she had endured in the days before her second transformation, but still.... it was awkward, annoying, and at times excruciating.
It had started about two hours ago, a nagging cramp in her lower abdomen. She had tried to ignore it as much as she could, but each time she thought it was beginning to ease it returned as sharply as before. Then, about half an hour ago, she had discovered the bleeding. She was worried, there was no denying it, but she did not have time for her own concerns.
"Delenn?" It was Londo. Faithful and concerned, as always. It seemed that hardly a moment passed when she had neither Londo nor Vejar at her side. Her guardians, as they had tacitly appointed themselves.
"Delenn...." He stopped. "Are.... you...?"
"I am fine," she whispered. The pain was definitely easing now, and she could worry about the blood later. "Have you.... any news?"
His eyes narrowed. "Lethke and Vizhak have managed to resurrect something that looks like computer records. We're using them to assemble a sort of census."
"What good will a census do? We.... help the living, and mourn the dead. What more is there?"
"I have.... certain suspicions, Delenn. We know that a fair number of people managed to escape from here during the Drakh occupation. Lethke and Vizhak's little resistance operation managed to work that one out. They assumed it was refugees, or people sent to obtain help.
"And yet no help came, and given how strong the Drakh were, given how easily they cracked down on everything else, does it seem rational that they simply let these people escape?"
"No," Delenn whispered. "No, it does not. Are your.... suspicions the reason you did not want us to call on the Non-Aligned Worlds for help?"
"Yes. That.... Keeper thing on the Drazi who attacked you. Vejar has told me a great deal about them. It would not surprise me if the Drakh implanted those things in certain.... individuals, and let them escape. Lethke is aware of a number of prominent members of Trading Guilds from many peoples who have simply.... vanished. Disappeared. We have found no prisoners anywhere on this planet, and no trace of their bodies."
"Then.... these Keepers could be spreading throughout the Non-Aligned Worlds?"
"I would not be surprised. The sooner we can get some sort of communication up and contact G'Kar, the better. It appears that our good friends the technomages set up some form of shielding around the planet which is preventing him from getting through."
"We need supplies, Londo. It has been several weeks since the Drakh left, and we are running low.... very low. We need food, clothing, medical supplies. Do you have anything good to report?"
"Well.... I don't know about good news, but.... there is an old friend who has come by to see us."
"Who?"
Londo smiled.
* * * * * * *
It was interesting, Clark noted, how much a Narn's appearance changed when he was angry. Take Kha'Mak here as an example. A member of the Kha'Ri, a soldier in their earlier 'triumphant war' against the Centauri and in countless other border wars, skirmishes and civil unrest. He had risen almost to the top of Narn society, in a Government which had learned back-stabbing, deviousness and treachery from the very best - the Centauri themselves. The Kha'Ri even put the Centauri Royal Court to shame. To survive in an environment like that, one needed to possess patience, guile, intelligence and subtlety, all qualities Kha'Mak had in abundance.
And yet, make him angry, and he was no better than a Drazi, no better than a howling savage in the wilderness.
"I protest at this treatment, President Clark!" he was shouting. "I arrived here months ago, to obtain increased guarantees of military support.... which you promised us in exchange for our rescue of your colonies from the threat of Minbari control!"
Promised at gun-point. A choice between slavery and annihilation. What sort of promise was that?
"And how do you treat those who have saved your people? You ignore me. Two months of meaningless meetings! Of pointless discussions, consultations with business leaders, generals, people wearing those.... suit things! And where are we? Not one solid piece of support. Not one military strike against the Centauri. Nothing!
"So now I am forcing the issue, Mr. President!"
Clark gave a slight smile. He would like to record this moment, and preserve it forever. Captain Smith's victory over the Minbari might well have been a significant advance, but if there was going to be a major turning point for humanity, it would be right here.
"Councillor Kha'Mak.... you are forcing the issue because you have recently lost the colonies at Dros, and because you were recently heavily defeated during your counter-strike at Frallus Twelve. Your military leaders are worried that this war, far from being the stalemate that the last one was, will turn into a complete rout."
Clark's smile was wider this time. "Mr. Welles has extensive sources of information, some of which he even shares with me. We know everything about your war, including all the details you have not seen fit to inform me of.
"We are going to crush the Minbari, and I mean crush. They will be annihilated. Frankly, Kha'Mak, your people mean little to us now. We have found allies.... elsewhere."
Clark rose from his seat and walked around his desk, always facing the stunned-looking Narn.
"We will be your slaves no longer, do you hear? Not one second longer! You will give us back every single colony you took from us, every single outpost, research station, everything. You will turn control over to the local human authorities, who will then pass jurisdiction to Proxima Three."
"This is outrageous!"
"This is not a negotiation, Councillor. At this moment, you need us far more than we need you. You will do as I have said, and we will lend you our assistance, not as slaves, but as valued allies. The Centauri.... may prove to be a problem for us, but we will deal with them. We will share with you the technology we have taken from the most recent Minbari ship we destroyed, and we may even sell you some more of the wreckage."
"Sell? We paid you quite handsomely for what you recovered from the battle here."
"Yes, you did. The débris from the fleet that was sent to destroy us, while you did nothing!
"You were never very efficient masters, Kha'Mak. Probably because, in your hearts, you are all still slaves. Free our colonies, give us their resources, and provide us with the short-term capital we need. Then, we will help you.
"Otherwise, we will let the Centauri rip you apart again, and this time we'll sit back and laugh."
"This.... this is...."
"Those are our terms, Councillor. Oh, and if you are thinking about doing anything.... unpleasant to those of my people still under your control, then think again. You only have to imagine what we will do to you in return."
"You do not have the power to enforce these demands."
"Haven't you been listening, Kha'Mak? We are going to destroy the Minbari. We cut their fleet to ribbons only a few months ago. If we can do that to them, think about what we could do to you...."
Kha'Mak slumped, turning his eyes away. "I shall have to consult with homeworld."
"Then do so, but quickly. The Centauri are moving fast, and once we begin our attack on the Minbari, we may not have time to help you."
Ah, thought Clark as the Narn left. He had little doubt about what the Kha'Ri's response would be. They needed humanity's help. Last time they had been able to demand it. This time, they would have to beg for it.
During this short conversation humanity's fate had been radically changed - for the better.
Clark sat down at his desk and activated the commlink to General Ryan. "What news on the construction, General?" he asked.
"Slightly ahead of schedule, Mr. President sir. Another two weeks or so, at most."
"Good." Clark smiled. "Very good."
* * * * * * *
"Pleased to meet you again, m'lady."
"I...." Delenn was puzzled. This human before her looked a little familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. "I am sorry. Have we met before?"
"This is the.... ah.... person who so kindly provided transport for us to the.... other place we needed to go," Londo said, looking ever so slightly embarrassed. Delenn looked at him, and faint memories returned. They had.... stolen?.... a spaceship.
"Captain Jack's the name, m'lady. I'm an.... itinerant wanderer of the spaceways, you might say."
"Ah." Delenn looked at Londo, who shrugged.
"Anyway, m'lady, I never went all that far away from here. I was fairly well known on Kazomi Seven before the invasion, you see. Sort of a second home, if you like. I kept something of an eye on events, coming back every so often to see if the nasties were still here. When I found they had left, well.... I came down to see what I could do to help."
"Mr. Captain Jack here has some very useful resources for us," Londo said. "He...."
"Oh yes, m'lady. I got hold of some medical equipment, food, a bit of clothing.... all useful bits and pieces. They, ah.... fell off the back of a cargo freighter, you might say, you know what I mean?" He made a strange gesture, tapping his index finger against the side of his nose. Delenn certainly did not know what he meant, but she wasn't about to argue the point, especially if he had what he claimed to have.
"You have medicines, bandages, equipment?"
"Yes, indeed, m'lady."
Delenn looked at Londo. "We must hurry, then. Help.... Captain Jack unload his goods. I will return to the sanctuary and begin preparing things there. Contact Lethke and Taan Churok. They should know of this.
"Captain Jack.... you have done a great deal for us, but however much you have brought with you, it cannot be enough. Will you be able to obtain more?"
"You name it, I can get it."
"And yet, you still have not named what you want in payment," Londo said wearily, looking at the human with glaring eyes.
"Well, yer 'onner, m'lady.... the way I see things, there's a lot of powerful people here. Some possibilities.... building things from the bottom up you could say. Perhaps there could be a.... position for someone of my skills, maybe. A.... job opportunity or two. A nice salary, maybe."
Delenn looked aghast at Londo and Captain Jack. There were people dying all around them and they were talking about money. "We will discuss that later," she said primly. "For now, we must do what we can for those who need help. Hurry."
"No problem, m'lady." Captain Jack and Londo began to hurry away, but after a few steps Jack stopped and turned round. "Oh, by the way, when I was.... liberating some of these goods, I came across a warship in the area. Big one too. Human as well, which was very strange, but I'd.... run into it several times before. Knowing that you'd want these goods pretty soon I thought I'd better take steps to avoid any.... unnecessary interrogations, but if it's still in the area, I can send a transmission to it as soon as I break orbit, if you like."
Delenn looked at Londo. A human ship? What would a human ship be doing here? And who could have sent it?
"Do you know the identity of this ship?" she asked.
"Um.... did get it, yeah. Oh.... what was it again? Some funny old Greek name. Parmesan? Patrician? Parm.... Parochial?
"Parmenion, that was it. The EAS Parmenion."
Delenn began to smile.
* * * * * * *
Patience had never been one of Sinoval's more outstanding qualities. He realised that a warrior often needed to be patient - needed to wait until the time was right before making a move, but just waiting.... while others plotted and planned and debated.... that was a skill he had never acquired.
Sinoval always needed to be in control. His lack of control had failed him during the attack on the Earthers, and he was determined that it would not fail him again.
He felt suddenly angry with himself. He had done all he could have done. He had learned everything about the Shagh Toth that the Vindrizi could teach him. Nothing else he could have done would have led him anywhere but here....
None of that made the wait any easier.
The Primarch had heard Sinoval's offer, and had registered an honest expression of shock. Then, he had begun to laugh, a strangely.... not unpleasant sound.
"Well, Holy One.... you have surprised me, and in all my centuries of life, I am surprised only rarely. This almost makes up for your arrogance."
"Surely my arrogance is what would make my soul valuable to you? You have.... 'saved' very few Minbari over the years. How many Minbari of my stature do you have in your 'collection'? If you are aware of even half of what I have done, then you know that my soul would be priceless to you. After all, how many others have stood here and threatened you as I did?"
"None.... Your offer is intriguing, Minbari, but still.... you ask a great deal. I must think, and commune with those I have saved. Perhaps.... perhaps, Holy One."
Sinoval had been taken to a room and left there, constantly flanked by two Soul Hunters. They ignored him as much as he tried to ignore them. For all the learning, all the preparation, all the forethought Sinoval had gone through in planning this, there was still the ancient childhood horror of losing one's soul....
Ah, but the benefits.... they would far outweigh the price.
The door opened and in walked the Primarch, looking as proud and noble as he had before. Sinoval walked over to meet him. The Primarch smiled.
"I have consulted with the others," the Primarch said. "Some said that what you ask for is far more valuable than what you offer us. Some said that you are undoubtedly lying and have some ploy to deceive us. Some said that your soul would be a priceless addition to those we have saved.
"But ultimately, I rule here, and no other. This is my decision.
"We accept your offer, Sinoval. You will be our leader. You will have access to and authority over everything that is ours, but on these conditions:
"We will continue our great work. You will not and cannot order us to stop that. The preservation of souls is our reason for existence. The collection and salvation of souls will not be stopped."
Sinoval nodded. "I would.... not ask you to do that But I would ask you not to collect the souls of my race while I am here."
The Primarch made a gesture that might have been a shrug. "We obtain Minbari souls only rarely in any event. I doubt if the opportunity will arise during your lifetime.
"The second condition: at least two of my order will be present at your side always. We have lost too many souls through misfortune, poor timing.... we will not lose yours. At least two.... at all times."
"That is not unreasonable," Sinoval said, suppressing the urge to shiver. "Provided, of course, that they are aware that I would be more than ready for any assault."
"Of course. We will treat you in the same spirit with which you treat us. The final condition: our obligations end when you do. When you die, any outstanding or unfulfilled duty is of no further concern to us. You will not bind us to the service of your people.... we will not be restricted by your orders when you are gone."
"I would not expect you to be."
The Primarch then bowed his head. "Then I bid you welcome, Primarch Nominus et Corpus."
"And what does that mean?"
"Your title. My title means the First, in Majesty and Gathering. Yours.... the First in Name and in Body. Only one other has ever held such a title in our history. One not of our blood, but of our heart."
Sinoval started. "Valen?"
The Primarch shook his head. "No. Another. It is not important. Well, Primarch.... what is your wish?"
No hesitation. No doubt. Sinoval knew all along that for which he had come. "Valen's soul. Is it here?"
"No, it is not."
What? "I met one of your order.... It.... he told me that you had Valen's soul."
"A lie. Oh, I will not deny that I attempted to obtain Valen's soul on many occasions. I was.... younger then, and more enthusiastic. But I failed. His soul is not here."
"Do you know where he died, where his soul might be?"
"No, I do not. I last saw him the day before his final assault on Z'ha'dum. I know nothing of what he did thereafter."
"You.... knew Valen?"
"A little. Ours was a.... strange relationship."
"Tell me about him. Everything."
"As you wish."
Sinoval suddenly realised something. "You do not have Valen's soul? Do you have the souls of any who were with him?"
The Primarch smiled. "Yes, I do."
"Who?"
The Primarch answered.
* * * * * * *
"Susan, are you all right?"
Susan Ivanova did not answer. She did not feel like answering.
"Susan, you've barely said two words to me since I got here. Is something the matter?"
YOU PROMISED I'D BE SAFE!
Laurel Takashima sighed, and gently placed her hand on Susan's shoulder. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Susan looked up into the eyes of her friend, and, slowly, she began the story of her mother's death.
* * * * * * *
"How is this going to work?"
Sinoval had only seen a Soul Hunter's collection once before, and that was while investigating the collection on the ship which had brought him here. He had been expecting the Primarch's collection to be similar - albeit larger. He was not expecting....
.... countless globes, all resting on shelves of rock and dark marble, glowing softly. The whole area was vast, there seemed almost as many globes as there were stars in the night-time sky, droplets of crystal in the waters of Minbar, facets of light in the mountains of his home.
There was something.... holy.... about this place.
"There are a number of ways to communicate with a soul. I can simply speak to it through the globe, but you will not be able to do that. I could.... serve as a medium, transmitting your questions to it and its answers to you, but I doubt that will suffice for what you intend.
"The most appropriate way would be to project your consciousness into the globe. You will then meet the soul in an environment it has created, one it knew in life perhaps, or an ideal.
"In many ways, these souls are in their version of Heaven, and I am their kindly, loving God."
Sinoval resisted the urge to begin a religious debate with the Primarch, whose words were unpleasantly close to blasphemy. His eyes were focussed elsewhere, on the myriad wonder of sparkling lights all around him.
"Which globe?" he asked.
The Primarch stepped forward to one of the shelves and picked out a globe which was indistinguishable from all the rest. How he could tell them apart....
"Each soul is a part of me," he said. "This one especially. This is one of the oldest here, taken when I was much, much younger and still went out into the universe.
"However, you should be warned, Primarch Nominus et Corpus. This soul was taken while in great pain. The death was not easy, and the collection was hard, very hard. The environment it has created for itself may not be pleasant.
"But this is the only soul likely to have the knowledge you need."
Sinoval looked round. Behind the Primarch were the two silent Soul Hunter guards he had agreed would remain beside him. They could have been statues for all the movement they made.
"Be seated." Sinoval sat, cross legged, on the floor. It was not cold, but.... it seemed almost alive. There was a gentle heartbeat vibrating through the floor.
The Primarch sank to his knees, holding the globe in outstretched hands, towards Sinoval's face. Rays of light shone out from it, flickering and darting, directly into Sinoval's eyes.
"You are very trusting," the Primarch remarked. "How do you know this is not a trap?"
"I have no other choice. And besides, you do not know what precautions I may have taken in expectation of such a trap."
"I see I made a wise decision. Your soul will be a fine addition here." The Primarch's voice seemed to be coming from further and further away. All Sinoval could see was the globe, flashing. It seemed bigger now, and it was glowing, a rich, vibrant red.... the colour of blood, of fire, of the heart, the colour of blood, of....
.... of fire....
Sinoval started. He was standing on a precipice of rock, looking down into a vast chasm. All around him.... everything was burning, rock melting and breaking away, tumbling into the abyss. He could hear screams emerging from the pit, a high wail that cut into his very soul.
"In Valen's name!" cried a voice. "You will not win!" The voice was.... proud, but despairing. A warrior's voice, the voice of one who has fought in countless battles, countless sieges, who has seen so much death, so much victory, so much loss.... and who is finally beginning to despair.
"In Valen's Name, my lord," said Sinoval at last, seeing the figure he had come here to talk with. Before him, on another island of rock surrounded by a sea of fire.... there stood a Minbari, a warrior, dressed not in black and silver, but in white.
A warrior, tall, with one arm thrust above his head in defiance. A warrior, with dark eyes and an ornate headbone, carved in the fashion of centuries ago.
The warrior bore a symbol on his tunic, such as had not been the custom for hundreds of years. Before Valen, before the Grey Council, each warrior bore the symbol of his clan on his tunic. Valen had changed that, but for a brief time at least, there had been a transition....
This warrior bore, not the mark of any clan with which Sinoval was familiar, but a symbol of nine circles, all linked together to form a larger circle. Above the top circle there was a badge. A badge Sinoval recognised.
The warrior was none other than Marrain, the First Ranger, Valen's Right Hand, Marrain the Accursed, the Betrayer, the Lost.... he who had fallen at Z'ha'dum, stared into the abyss and never returned.... he who had descended into madness and nearly caused the end of everything Valen had built....
The greatest, and most reviled warrior in Minbari history....
.... and Sinoval was with him.
* * * * * * *
"Magnificent, isn't he sir?"
"He?" Clark paused, looking at General Ryan. "I thought it was the custom that ships were female."
"Well, some of them are, sir, but this.... it felt right to call him.... him, sir."
Clark shrugged. Ryan presumably knew best. This was his ship, after all. He had been the one who had supervised its construction.
The Babylon would be the flagship of humanity's new fleet, but it would always be associated with Sheridan and the old days. This.... this was new. This represented the future. The Babylon had had to have the new technology incorporated into it, and the joins had been.... awkward. This ship had been built with the new technology, Minbari, Streib, Shadow.... all of it.
And built in record time, too.
"It.... he is completely ready?"
"Yes, sir. The crew is a little.... short-handed, but it's enough to pilot him. The shortages are only natural, I suppose, but.... no.... he's ready."
"Good." Clark smiled. "Good." The Babylon's updates had been finished, and this time the new systems would work exactly as they were supposed to. The Streib fleet had promised their assistance, and Ambassador Sheridan had guaranteed that the Drakh would be there as well.
Beta Durani. A human colony, conquered by Minbari.... the first step in wiping them from the face of the galaxy.
"Then I christen him.... the Morningstar," Clark said.
A fitting name, after all, for a star always heralded the morning, and the beginning of a new day, did it not?