Chapter 2

JOHN Sheridan froze, sensing instinctively the situation in which he now found himself and his crew. There are certain things nothing, not even lies, can erase, and the instinct of a man who has fought on board a starship for over a decade is one of them. He did not even need to hear Lieutenant Guerra to know what had happened.
"The Babylon," he whispered.
This was supposed to be a simple mission. Cut a Resistance Government supply line, destroy the Drakh ships based here, delay the advance on Minbar by a little. Simple stuff really. And yet, it was not going quite according to plan.
"No sign of any Drakh ships," said Guerra. "Just the Babylon."
Bester.... he knew. He had to know.
"What action are they taking?" asked Corwin. At least Sheridan's second could think, even if Sheridan himself could not. Both of them had served on the Babylon for over ten years, fighting desperate holding actions to protect humanity. And now they were fighting against it.
"They've recognised us," replied Guerra. "They're launching fighters and preparing their weapons. They're not quite as fast as we are. There seems to be some minor damage to some of their systems."
"It's an old ship," said Corwin.
But a good one. A very good ship.
"Captain?"
John Sheridan stirred. "How long until our jump engines cool down?"
"A good fifteen minutes, sir."
Sheridan swore under his breath. What had he said to Delenn so recently? 'I will not fire on my own people.' Least of all his own ship.
What had Delenn said to him on numerous occasions? 'The universe puts us in places where we can do the most good.' What good could he do here? Why would the universe have put him here? The universe - or Bester?
"Launch fighters," he ordered. "Ready weapons. Target weapons and engines only."
"Yes, sir." Guerra began transmitting the orders. Sheridan could feel Corwin's eyes boring into his back, but he did not turn round. His gaze was fixed elsewhere.... hundreds of kilometres away.... towards the Babylon.
His ship.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"And Valen called forth the Nine, and he bound them to their columns of light, and he said that they shall stand here in this place and rule from the heavens, set above the people, set apart from the people, that they may dispense justice with the wisdom of the Gods, and wisdom with the power of the Gods, and power in the name of the Gods.
"And when Valen passed beyond, those who remembered him and held forth his legacy stood here, and ruled from the heavens. They waited ten years for his return, and on the tenth anniversary of his disappearance, they chose another to lead them. The first was Derannimer, the warrior-born, she who had stood beside Valen and fought beside Valen and loved him and borne his children. And for twenty years, she ruled in his name. And then she disappeared, passing beyond in her turn. And then came Nemain, and then Mannamann, and then others....
"For a thousand years we have ruled here, in Valen's name and in our own. Warriors and priestlings all. How many workers have ruled here? How many? Two, as I am sure you know. Why only two? The answer is that Valen never intended you to rule. He intended you to serve. As the saying goes.... We fight, they pray, you serve. Your presence here was always going to lead to disaster, but in respect and in memory, we permitted you to remain.
"And now the cycle is returning to the beginning, as it always does. Valen will return, and reform our people as he did before. All of his prophecies are coming to pass.... All! The Council has been broken, we have descended into fire and darkness. I am blessed to have been a part of this prophecy. I am blessed to be permitted to stand at the side of Sinoval. I am blessed to be permitted to prepare the way for his return. For as Nemain served and succeeded Derannimer, who served and succeeded Valen, so shall I serve and succeed Sinoval, who shall serve and succeed Valen.
"And in their names, I am preparing Minbar, reforging our society, making it malleable so that he can forge it anew. I have done well, do you not think? Satai Kats?"
"Yes.... Satai.... You have.... done.... well."
"I have done well. You.... you were never fit to hold such high position. None of you workers were. You were fit only to serve. Valen and Sinoval know this already, and have entrusted me to prepare you for your new destinies - to serve us. You see that now, do you not, Satai Kats?"
"...."
"Do you not, Satai Kats?"
A scream. "Yes! .... Yes, Satai.... Kalain."
"Good. Then let us pray to Valen. Isil'zha veni...."
More screams.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Smith was drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair, a nervous habit he had not been able to break, and now did without realising. "Sheridan.... that is Sheridan there."
"We don't know that, sir," said Lieutenant Franklin. "Our ID codes have turned up blank. That is one of the ships that appeared at the Second Line, but apart from that...."
"Trust me, Lieutenant!" snapped Captain Smith. "Sheridan's there.... You get a.... feel for these things sometimes." A feel, indeed. Sitting in Sheridan's chair, on Sheridan's bridge, commanding Sheridan's ship.... Smith had been living with Sheridan's memory for months.
Perhaps this was the chance he needed to exorcise a ghost or two.
"Forward batteries are fully powered up now," Franklin reported.
"What about the repairs?" That last skirmish with the Minbari cruisers had caused a fair amount of damage, which was why the Babylon was sitting here at Beta 9, while the Morningstar and their allies were pressing on against the Minbari. Talk about a blessing in disguise!
"Minimal damage. We're pretty much ready to go."
"That'll do. Target...." Smith turned, scenting an odour so unpleasant it took all his strength of will not to gag and vomit. Others around the bridge seemed equally unhappy. Even Franklin looked almost sick.
The Drakh came into view, shimmering. Smith was almost glad that he could not see it clearly. What he could see of it was enough. It held up its strange flashing ball and spoke, a hideous whisper, a sound like steel scraping across a marble headstone.
"Give.... us.... Sheridan."
These were humanity's allies? Or at least, allies of these.... Shadows who had helped out at the Second Line. These.... spectres of death?
"Give.... us.... Sheridan."
Smith disliked having them on board his ship, but he had little choice in the matter. An order directly from the President, no less. He was to give them every courtesy and listen to everything they told him.
"Give.... us.... Sheridan."
Smith turned to Franklin. "Order a boarding pod made ready. Target weapons, engines and enemy flyers only. Use interception fire wherever necessary." To the Drakh: "Take as many of your people as you wish. Do.... as you see fit."
"Good.... Sheridan.... will.... be.... ours. Trust.... us."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"I'm not saying that.... I'm just saying that, in my opinion...."
"That in your opinion, Zanee was better than Zooty? No, sorry. I cannot accept that."
"What do you mean? Zanee was much funnier. You remember that sketch with the three goats, the jar of honey and the Narn sword. That was hilarious."
"Yeah, but zanee.... zane zane.... it just doesn't cut it as a serious catchphrase. Zooty, zoot zoot on the other hand...."
"I prefer Zanee. He's funny, intelligent, great comic timing...."
"Bald...."
"I happen to like bald men."
"Ugh.... not me."
"Rather Zanee's baldness than Zooty's hair! I mean, come on, was that hair, or a rug?"
"At least Zooty knew when to quit."
"Are you kidding? That last Christmas special of theirs just before he left.... that was awful."
"Christmas specials of everything are awful. Except for maybe.... no, they were all awful."
"You're telling me. I sometimes think that's the only reason we moved to Mars when I was a kid.... to get away from the things."
Susan Ivanova and Laurel Takashima laughed together. Ivanova pushed back her plate. "Well, I don't think basic rations ever tasted so good."
"Must be my company, of course."
"Oh.... of course."
Takashima smiled. "Glad to be of service. You looked as if you needed a laugh."
"Oh, boy. Was that ever an understatement!"
"How's the.... uh...?"
"The legs? I'm managing about twelve steps without falling over. Not quite ready to run a marathon yet, but I'm getting there."
"The.... eye?"
"Itches. A lot. But the headaches are less frequent now. Doc tells me I'll be able to see out of this eye at least partially in a couple of weeks."
"Good. You wanna talk about Reebo?"
"No way."
"You sure?"
"Yes.... don't even get me started."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

We.... are.... here....
Flight-lieutenant Neeoma Connally shook her head, desperate to dislodge the irritating buzzing there. It seemed to be trying to form words, but she couldn't.... quite.... place it. Radio interference, perhaps? It was easier to think of it as radio interference than as.... anything else it might be.
But then, thinking about anything other than the battle at hand was a dangerous thing at present. What with being in a battle and all.
"Alpha Squadron, remember, target weapons and engines only, but be ready to defend yourselves." Despite all the training, and the numerous manoeuvres she had performed with this squadron, she still felt uneasy. These weren't her people. The ones she was fighting.... those were her people.
Why couldn't she simply have gone into union business like she'd always wanted?
And then she was lost in the battle.
The rush of being in the Starfury, of being surrounded by blackness, of feeling the sky below, above, all around. It was a wonder, and something she could never get enough of. Being forced to kill anything alive, especially her fellow human beings, most especially those she considered her friends.... that was something she'd be happy never to have to do again.
It was something she might not be given a chance to do again.
Her eyes.... were.... drawn.... to something zooming past her. A boarding pod.... It seemed.... simple enough.... Their opponents probably wanted to take the Parmenion intact.... but.... there.... was.... some.... thing....
We are here.
Her head snapped backwards as a burst of pain tore through her mind. She could see them, the.... the things, spectre-like, wraiths.... demons.... things.
Drakh.
It was the shouted warnings over her commchannel which brought her back to the present, but as an enemy Starfury fired on her, she was too far gone to do anything but eject. Her 'Fury was torn apart, leaving her floating aimlessly in space, her mind tormented by fears of things she saw in nightmares, with a battle going on all around her.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo Mollari muttered angrily to himself. A man of his class should not have to live in such conditions! Why, this room was appalling, filthy, and expensive! Fortunately G'Kar was picking up the bill, but still.... It was the principle that mattered.
Londo flicked a look across the room at his companion. Lennier was asleep, or at least he seemed to be asleep. He had made a bit of a fuss about sleeping on a horizontal bed, but with some constructive piling up of bags and packs, he was now lying at something of an angle. Londo sometimes thought that his mission would be much easier if he could proceed with it alone, but still.... Lennier had saved his life once or twice, and he had understandable objections about being around Delenn for too long. Besides, he might be an asset. And these days, the sight of a Minbari and a Centauri together did not excite much attention.
Their journey from Kazomi 7 had been fairly long and roundabout. The Drakh invasion and the subsequent formation of the tentative alliance there had disrupted shipping to an enormous extent. Admittedly, Londo could have gone by G'Kar Airways, but he was trying to keep a low profile, after all. It had taken long enough simply to make it appear as if they had not come from Kazomi 7. That would introduce all manner of unpleasant connotations at present.
They had finally made it to the minor Centauri colony world of Frallus 4. A piffling place, to be sure, but it was still the first sign of real civilisation which Londo had seen in almost a year. And much to his surprise, this piffling place was packed to the rafters with all manner of races. A good number of them were Minbari, refugees fleeing the human attacks on their worlds, not to mention several League races.
And this was also the first place where Londo had been able to get hold of a personal communicator, to replace the one which had been broken during the invasion of Kazomi 7. That communicator had cost him a small fortune, but had been worth every penny. This one was nowhere near as fancy, but it would have to do.
His mission would have been difficult enough at the best of times. Former Prime Minister Malachi was supposed to be dead, having apparently committed suicide on the death of Emperor Turhan several years ago. The technomages seemed convinced that he was alive, and if they said something was true, then normally it was, although perhaps not quite in the way anyone might expect. On the other hand, the key question was where Malachi could be.
Faking one's death was not exactly unheard of among the Centauri nobility - Londo himself was technically dead at the moment - but he had not expected it of Malachi. The purpose of it was.... well, the Great Maker alone knew. But these questions would have to be answered later. The first thing was to find him, and then to use his intelligence and skill to bring down Elrisia, and Cartagia and Refa and all the rest of those accursed nobles who were bringing chaos to Centauri Prime. Londo had a few allies earmarked at the back of his mind, but he needed Malachi, and he needed to know where to look, and for that, he needed the services of a certain.... person, with whom he had been out of contact for quite some time.
A certain person about whom Mr. Lennier knew nothing and whom he did not need to know about.
The communicator beeped suddenly and Londo started, looking round to see if Lennier had awoken. Mercifully, he hadn't. It had taken longer to find the signal than he had expected. He silently cursed the communicator. Worthless colony-made rubbish!
"Ah, Mr. Morden," he said, as the human's face appeared in the device. "It has been quite a while."
"Minister Mollari," Morden said smiling. "I had been getting worried. I'd heard you were on Kazomi Seven."
"I was.... and a pretty spectacle that was, too."
"Yes. I'm sure you've had a very busy few months. You're not the only one as it turns out. You know how it is. Work, work, work. Still, always a pleasure to hear from you. What can I do for you?"
"Prime Minister Malachi. Have you heard of him?"
"Of course. I've travelled extensively throughout your homeworld. A beautiful place, isn't it? I'd heard he was dead...."
"Apparently no more so than I. I have it on the very best authority that he is still alive. I would like to know where I could find him, if that is possible."
"I'm sure I can arrange that. I'll get my associates on to it straight away, and call you back when I learn anything. Was there anything else?"
"No, that will be all, thank you." Londo preferred to speak to Morden as little as he could. There was something about the human....
"Of course. My pleasure to serve, as always. By the way, how was Lady Morella's prophecy?"
"What?"
"Her last prophecy. I gave you the data crystal with the recording, you remember?"
"Great Maker, yes! That was.... before I left. Great Maker, that was months ago. I had quite forgotten...."
"I'd have a look at it, if I were you. It sounded important. Anyway, good luck, Minister. I hope to have some news for you soon." The image went blank.
Londo sat back. Lady Morella's last prophecy.... Great Maker! She had been murdered on the night she had sent for Londo. A murder for which Mr. Morden had been - and still was - the chief suspect. Apparently she had experienced a vision before her death. A prophecy she had recorded and given to Morden. Londo remembered putting it in his coat pocket.... moving it to a pack.... Had it been lost on Kazomi 7? No.... it had been with....
Londo swore under his breath, looking at Lennier. The Minbari was sleeping on it. Ah, Great Maker! Why are these things sent to try us?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Ko'Dath had survived a difficult childhood on the streets of G'Khamazad during the dying days of the Centauri Occupation. She had been a soldier, and after that a politician, before being drafted into G'Kar's little army and finding herself appointed as Chief of Security aboard a human spaceship. She had fought many foes, Narn and alien, but these.... this time she had to force herself onwards, force herself to wield her katok, force herself not to fall to the ground, huddle into a ball and weep for the safety of her pouch.
G'Dan had fought in the first Centauri War, and served as a scout in the Second. He had stood beside Warleader G'Sten at all three Battles of Ragesh 3. He had been one of the first to cross the breach into the retaken capital city at Zok. He had been captured and tortured by Streibs, and rescued by Commander Corwin. He had been a warrior for most of his life, and yet he had to force himself to fight on, force himself not to flee like a craven Centauri, force himself to continue to battle.
The Drakh boarding pod had evaded all efforts to shoot it down with an almost lyrical grace. Its inhabitants had poured on board the Parmenion in apparently infinite numbers, and had run directly into the path of the Security force - the infamous Narn Bat Squad. And the force which had stood against Centauri, Minbari, humans.... was falling back, stricken by an almost primaeval terror. None of them knew for certain - but a few guessed - that a thousand years ago, when the Great Darkness had fallen on Narn, the Shadows had brought with them their allies, their minions.... and the Drakh had walked in the nightmares of the Narn.
Where they would walk once more.
Slowly, a step at a time, the Narns fell backwards. Some lay bleeding, some fled, some still fought, but all took slow steps back as the Drakh advanced, one step at a time, towards the bridge, and Captain Sheridan.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The universe puts us in places where we may do the most good.... Pathetic! What are you, Kozorr? A warrior or a priestling? A warrior afraid even to approach this most sacred Hall.... the Hall you have every right to enter at will!
It was a chance he doubted he would have again for a very long time. Kalain had left the Hall of the Grey Council, induced to leave by Deeron, on some pretext. It meant that Kats was now alone in there. She could not leave - even if she had the strength to leave, the warrior acolytes stood outside the Hall - but she was in there.... alone.
Kozorr was reluctant to contemplate blasphemy. Kalain was his superior, his leader, a fellow warrior if nothing else. And yet.... and yet....
He was afraid that Kalain was insane. Why else would he do nothing while the Earthers tore at the limbs of the Federation? Why else would he refuse to study reports of the battles? Why else would he do nothing but stand in this Hall, from whence nothing but laughter and screams issued?
Kozorr knew that something was wrong, very wrong, with Kalain, and yet he could not bring himself to admit it. He knew that stepping into the darkness of the Hall to do what he now planned would seal his fate, but someone had to do it.
He stepped over the threshold.
Kalain had been entitled to do what he had done to the workers - no sane Minbari would doubt that. Their leader had massacred the Satai, destroying the Grey Council. Only two of the Nine had survived - Kalain and Sinoval. Executing the murderer Hedronn, purging the caste, purifying them.... that was only natural. But this sick torture of Kats.... the grotesque mockery of her presence on the Council.... while Kalain spoke of forgiveness, he acted in cruelty.
Kats had spent more time with him than any one. If anyone could know what had happened to cause this change in Kalain, she would.
He stifled a gasp as he saw her, the sole point of light in the dark Hall. Hers was the only column lit; hers was the only light.
She was lying on the floor, slumped, her head down, still, not moving.
With a muttered prayer to Valen, Kozorr ran forward. Valen let her not be dead. Valen let her not be dead.
She was not. Slowly, she turned at the sound of his footsteps, raising her head, revealing haunted eyes. There was no mark on her face that Kozorr could see - no sign of physical torture - but of mental, spiritual pain.... her eyes spoke volumes.
She staggered to her feet, awkwardly, uneasily. "In Valen's Name.... Satai Kozorr," she rasped.
"In Valen's Name, Satai Kats," he replied uncomfortably. Nothing about this encouraged him. "You are.... well, I trust?"
"I am a heretic in the eyes of Valen and of Sinoval," she said, speaking the words by rote, but with a hint of defiance there. Kozorr was certain he could detect traces of sarcasm, even of pride. For a moment, despite the meaning of her words, she could have been a warrior. "I am a murderer, and a conspirator against the Light which Valen has created here. I was an ally of the Shadow Rising. Satai Kalain is purging me, testing me in the fires of purity. I thank him for his mercy and his work, in the hope that I may one day be free of the darkness within me."
Kozorr looked at her in horror. During her speech, she had.... slipped, from arrogant sarcasm and mockery, to pathetic pleading.
"Yes, Satai Kozorr, I am well. My heart rejoices that I may yet be able to gain redemption for my heresies." No sarcasm there. Honest, silent screaming.
"Kalain," he said, saying the name as softly as he could. He was finding he even disliked speaking the name these days. "What is he doing to you in here?"
"He is purifying me, purging me of the sins and darkness so that...."
"Valen's Name, stop it!" he hissed. "The truth, Satai Kats. Tell me the truth about what he is doing to you."
"The truth, Satai Kozorr?" she said, speaking in her own voice for once, not with words put into her mouth by others. A voice filled with a pride almost broken by an onslaught of torment. "You do not wish to hear the truth." She coughed once, harshly.
"I do. I fear for Kalain.... I fear for what has been done to him, and for what he has done to others."
"Little room for fear. I am grateful.... we are grateful that he has left any of my caste alive. Where were your fears when he killed Hedronn at Tuzanor? Yes, Satai Kozorr. I saw you there. Where were your fears then?"
"Hedronn killed the Grey Council," came the angry reply. "The original sin was his, not ours. Kalain was right to respond as he did."
Kats coughed again. "Your mouth says the words, but your heart does not believe, warrior. Perhaps there is hope for your caste yet, and for ours with it."
"I don't care about the future of your caste," Kozorr lied. "I want the truth. What is Kalain doing to you in here?"
"He is breaking me, of course. He is.... tearing down everything that makes me what I am. He is.... re-moulding me to suit his desires. He is making me into his image...." She suddenly started, and gasped softly, lowering her head. "He is coming. Valen's Name, he is coming!" There was no pride now, no bitter sarcasm, simply pure, undisguised terror. "Help me, please! Save me from him! You're a warrior, he'll listen to you. Please!"
Kozorr knew Kalain was approaching mere moments after Kats spoke. It was the smell, an acrid, bitter odour of death and decay. He turned as Kalain hobbled into view, limping heavily. His beard was now entirely grey, and his bone crest was.... Valen's Name.... it was beginning to crack. Already some of the sharper spikes had fallen away. When had that happened? His crest had been normal only a few days ago.
Valen's Name, what was happening to him?
"Satai Kozorr," Kalain rasped, and even his voice was foul and malignant. A far cry from the strong, vibrant warrior he had always been. "It is good to see you here in this holy place."
"Yes, Satai," Kozorr replied. "I came here.... to.... replenish my soul. I can feel Valen's presence here. It is strong." He could practically feel Kats' pleading eyes boring into his back.
"It is, is it not? One day.... soon now.... he will return here. He will walk among us as he did a thousand years ago, and he will lead us to a greater victory now than he did then. It will be a great day, Satai Kozorr, when he returns."
"I know, Satai. I am honoured to be permitted even a minor rôle in such an event."
"Of course, for some it will be a difficult time," Kalain glanced at Kats, who seemed to shrink away from his gaze. "But we must have faith. There will be trying days before the great return. We will be plagued by traitors and heretics, by outcasts and friends of the Enemy. Still, there is always hope for redemption. Is that not so, Satai Kats?"
"Yes, Satai Kalain. That is.... so."
"Do you wish to remain here longer? Sometimes Valen himself appears to me in this place."
"I am afraid I may not, Satai. I have duties to perform, and I must not interrupt you in the performance of yours. Valen walk with you, Satai."
"He does, Satai Kozorr. He does." Kozorr did not look back as he walked from the Hall. He did not need to look to feel Kats' eyes crying betrayal at him. When she began to scream, he quickened his pace.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Hull integrity stable," reported Guerra. "They're just targeting weapons, and engines as well."
"Maybe they don't like this any more than we do," muttered Corwin, looking around the bridge. None of the crew seemed happy about fighting their own people. And he was certain that more than once he was the target of suspicious looks from some of the techs. Everyone knew that he and the Captain had served on the Babylon. Accusations were not exactly flying, but the Captain's odd lethargy was.... not normal.
"How long until the jump engines are back on line?" barked the Captain suddenly.
"It's going to be a good ten minutes or so," replied Guerra. "That area of the ship has taken a bit of a battering. Engineering are doing all they can, but...."
"Then get them to work harder. This battle's not doing anyone any good. What's the state of the fighting?"
"All over the place. Ko'Dath's doing what she can, but...."
Corwin suddenly looked up. He could.... feel something. The Captain, too.... and most of the others. Before his eyes, slowly, the door to the bridge exploded. Entering.... there came the faces of death. Two, three, four.... more....
The Captain rose to his feet, slowly, and turned to face them. He said nothing. He did not need to. Both Corwin and he knew Drakh when they saw them.
There was a still silence....