Chapter 2

SHE will be transported to a universe consisting entirely of pain. I will tear her apart, body and soul. Every doubt, every fear, every little insecurity I will bring forth, consuming her in the anguish of her own past. A lesser person would crack, be unable to deal with the knowledge of just what they are, but her....
She will survive. She must. It is her destiny.
But to survive, she must first be broken down, torn apart and remade. It will be a long process, and one which will barely begin here. My Master demands it of her.
Why? It is not my place to ask. I was damned, and they gave me salvation. I was doomed, and they gave me hope.
They have told me of her future. There are two paths. One.... one will lead to fire and darkness, to pain and agony and loss and loneliness. The other to happiness, and joy, and family. She must choose the first path. It is her destiny.
And if she does not.... if she seeks the easier path, then I will kill her.
She has her destiny. She deserves no sympathy for where its path will take her.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Who are you?"
"I am Delenn." A scream.
"No. Who are you?"
"I.... I am me." A scream.
"What a stupid reply. Who are you?"
"I.... I am who I am." A scream.
"Well, that was clever. I tell you an answer is wrong, and you give it back to me. Who are you?"
"I.... I don't know." A scream.
"No, of course you don't. Where will your path lead you?"
"I don't know." A scream.
"Why not?"
"I cannot see the future. No one can." No scream. In this case, words would hurt more than physical pain.
"I can. I know where your future lies. Would you like to see it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I will make my future. It is not made for me. Nothing is preordained."
"You used to believe it was. You dedicated your life to fulfilling Valen's prophecies. What were they but a foresight of the future?"
"I was wrong."
"So sure?"
"Yes. Valen's prophecies have not come to pass. They have brought nothing but pain."
"Of course they've come to pass! The Grey Council is broken. There is fire and darkness. You have united with the other half of your soul."
"The two halves of our soul are killing each other."
"You're killing yourself. You are both halves in one body."
"And they nearly killed me!" A scream. She'd been too long without pain.
"No, Valen's prophecies are coming to pass, exactly as he said they would. You are just afraid to follow them to their conclusion."
"There is no conclusion."
"You are just afraid to embrace your destiny. And so you run and hide from it."
"No.... no, I do not." A scream.
"Liar! For years you deluded yourself that you were someone special. For years and years. A delusion crammed into you almost from birth by everyone close to you - by Dukhat, by your father, by Lenonn, by Varmain, by Mayan.... They all told you that you would be special. And you believed it! So why, if you believed then, when you were worthless, do you not believe now, when you could actually do something?"
"I was wrong! I have no destiny, save to be here." A scream.
"Liar! You could do so much for your people, you know that! Your people are falling apart at the seams, did you know? Sinoval is gone.... he obviously didn't have the strength either. The worker caste have been all but annihilated. The warriors are in full control and are handling the defence in the war with the humans with spectacular ineptitude. The human fleet will be at Minbar within a month at the most, and they're going to tear it apart rock by rock.
"You could do something about that, so why are you here? Working in a hospital!"
"I can do nothing for my people."
"Says who?"
"They exiled me! I am Zha'valen. I can never return to Minbar. Never."
"Is that the truth, or only what you want to think to avoid admitting you are a coward? Your home planet is going to be destroyed if the humans have their way. Is that what you want?"
"Perhaps it is all we deserve!"
Silence.
"Ah." A scream. And another, and another. They did not stop for quite some time.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Who are you?"
"I'd guess I'm right in thinking you don't just want my name and resumé?"
Sinoval paused, and looked at the human before him. This was all a little bit too intrigue-based for him, but there was necessity here. Quite considerable necessity. Valen knew, Sinoval could not stand humans. It wasn't that they had killed Dukhat - what was another priestling dead? - just doing the universe a favour really - but the Grey Council had ordered their annihilation. Completely and utterly.
Sinoval had not believed a word about the so-called 'holy war'. He had never cared about the death of Dukhat, and the loss of the Dralaphi - while humiliating - proved no more than that some of the humans were lucky and/or skilful. No, what grated was that he had been ordered to wipe out the human race completely, and he still had not accomplished it. Hundreds of warriors - many of them his friends and mentors - had died in that war, some aboard the Dralaphi, and their deaths should not have been in vain. Wars should never be fought for nothing, there should always be a purpose behind them, and that purpose should always be followed through to the end, no matter the cost, otherwise it was all for nothing.
Seeing a human alive was just another reminder that the purpose his warriors had died for was as yet unaccomplished.
Seeing a human alive, here, was arousing all his instincts. They were screaming at him. This was not just any human.
He had given his name as Morden. It was not a name Sinoval knew.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'll need to speak to the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus before I can reveal that. Matters of client confidentiality. I'm sure you understand."
"I rule here now, and you will tell me everything I need to know, or I will kill you. Matters of honour and duty. I'm sure you understand."
"Ah. If you get the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, I'm sure this little misunderstanding can be cleared up quickly enough, and you can get back to your meditation or whatever."
Entertaining thoughts about doing highly unpleasant things to this Morden, Sinoval rose to his feet and smiled. He had not been entirely surprised to learn that Cathedral had cells, but their darkness, dinginess and general unpleasantness has been unexpected. Morden would not escape from here easily.
"I will return shortly," Sinoval said. "See if you can be a little bit more co-operative next time."
As he left, Sinoval caught the faintest trace of a noise, and Morden twitched angrily. He smiled. His instincts were not wrong. For the first time since his conversation with Marrain, he was sure of what he was doing.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Who are you?"
John Sheridan could move at last, rising to his feet hesitantly, as though his muscles did not really want to work and were taking some convincing around the possibility that staying lying down might be the best option.
"Who are you?"
What had happened to Delenn? John had been paralysed here, unable to do any more than move his eyes, hearing Delenn's screams and completely powerless to do anything to help her. He was angry and afraid.
"Who are you?"
The screams had stopped a few minutes ago, and the Inquisitor had come through the door into this room. They were in an abandoned warehouse somewhere at the far end of the city on Kazomi 7. There were quite a few buildings left abandoned after the Drakh invasion, and rebuilding was going slowly. There had been more than enough places to suit the Inquisitor's needs. Somewhere dark, quiet and empty.
The Inquisitor made an annoyed clicking sound with his tongue. "When I ask a question, I expect it to be answered." He touched the small device he held and John's body exploded with pain. He fell back to the floor, letting out a shocked cry.
"Who are you?"
"I don't have.... to answer you," John rasped. "You have.... no.... authority.... over me."
"I have authority over everything and everyone that walks in the light, and where the light is not, I bring it. Who are you?"
"Go to hell!"
"Been there. Done that. Worn the T-shirt. Been to Heaven as well." There was more pain and John cried out again.
"Go to hell! I owe you nothing. I owe the Vorlons nothing! All of you can just run back into your little encounter suits and sit around looking cryptic while the rest of the galaxy gets on with their lives.
"We don't have to do a single thing you say!"
"They say that violence solves nothing. They are of course wrong." More pain, and more and more, until John Sheridan was lying on the floor, convulsing in agony, screaming until his throat was raw and until he doubted he would ever breathe again.
And still there was pain.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The last time Sinoval had spoken to the tormented soul known as Marrain, the conversation had taken place in a mindscape manifested as a fiery inferno, and, later, as a hill on Minbar - the Place Where Valen Waits. This time they met in a barren desert, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen - Minbari largely, but there were many from races Sinoval had never seen before. In the distance, fires raged, and screams could be heard.
The Battle of Asahina 7, it had to be. A bloody siege against a world held by the Shadows' allies. Before it was over, the planet had been all but devastated.
Marrain turned to face Sinoval, and the dark fire of madness in his eyes blazed out. This was a man who had lived a thousand years before, who had fought alongside and later betrayed Valen himself, a man whose soul had been taken from his dying body amidst great pain and shame. Not the easiest of allies, but Sinoval was beginning to find he actually liked him.
"You...." Marrain muttered. "Are you.... real?"
"Yes, I am."
"I.... remember seeing you before. At Z'ha'dum, and at Turon'val'na lenn-veni. Were you really there, or am I dreaming? I remember dying, but.... that must have been a dream. Am I dreaming?"
He seemed to have forgotten the truth. The Primarch Majestus et Conclavus had revealed that Marrain had died in extreme agony, which had marred the perfect capture of his soul. Even the strongest of souls would degrade after so long 'preserved', but Marrain was close to insanity.
"Yes, you are dreaming." It seemed kinder that way. If he could not remember his past, then that was only for the best. "I need your help."
"But if you're a dream, why would you need my help?" Marrain pondered this for a moment, almost child-like, but then he shook his head. "It does not matter. Dream or not, you have come to talk to me, and no one has done that for.... I cannot remember. How may I help you, ghost?"
"Do you know of a man named Morden? He is of a race you will never have met."
"Morden? No, the name is unfamiliar to me. Should I? Is he a dream also?"
"No. He was just someone I thought might have been long-lived. If he is not...."
Marrain looked around at the desert. According to the histories, this had once been a verdant world, lush and ripe and full of life. "I remember this place. We fought here. The agents of the Enemy came for us here, they and.... other forces. The Vorlon Ambassador.... he came here."
Sinoval started. Sometimes the universe did do things right after all. "Why?"
"To speak with Valen. It was a.... a warning of some kind, I think. An argument."
"But Valen and the Vorlons were always such close allies. There were always two at his side. The hist.... We were told this was so."
"Yes, but not always.... Valen and the Vorlons.... they were not always together. Valen.... I.... don't remem.... Oh Valeria! I remember! I am dead! I died.... I.... NOO!"
Sinoval leapt from the mindscape the instant Marrain began seizing control of the environ ment. The last time he had done this, Sinoval had been all but consumed in fire. The fact that it had not been real had not lessened the horror of the experience.
His mind reawoke in his body and he rose to his feet. He was in the personal sanctum of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, sitting cross-legged, staring into the globe which housed Marrain's soul.
"You seem determined to allow us to achieve our side of the bargain very quickly," said the Primarch. He was standing behind Sinoval, a wry smile on his face. "That soul is a.... difficult one. Taken in pain and suffering. Not even I speak to him as often as you do."
"I promised Marrain I would not leave him alone, and I needed some information."
"And did you find it?"
"No, but I did learn something else. Maybe you can help me. There is a man in one of our cells. A man named Morden. Who is he?"
"A representative, of a much higher power than you can know."
Sinoval smiled. "I knew it. He stinks of the Vorlons. He is not one of their ageless servants, though. Marrain did not know of him, so this Morden must be a fairly recent addition to their minions. Good. The bond might not be absolutely complete, then."
"What do you intend to do with him?"
"Break his bond with the Vorlons, of course, and then find out what he knows. The Vorlons have been far too silent since their appearance at Proxima Three. I want to know what they are doing."
"Why should what the Vorlons do concern you?"
Sinoval looked the Primarch directly in the eye, and his tone when he spoke brooked no opposition. "I don't like the Vorlons. Not at all. And to find them here...."
"Ah yes. Preliminary discussions relating to an alliance. Nothing particularly far advanced at the moment. If you wish, we can break it off."
"Hmm.... It's too late to deny my presence here. Yes, I think it better had be broken off. I need to go and...." Sinoval stopped, looking around. "That.... signal again.... I don't know what it is, but I can.... feel.... something."
"Cathedral is, in many senses of the word, alive. You are its leader, and therefore its heart and soul. It is telling you something. Do you know what?"
Sinoval looked directly at the Primarch. "The Vorlons are coming."
The Primarch nodded.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He left the human screaming in his pain and walked across the threshold to where the other one lay. She was still there, lying prone, staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes, only the gentle rise and fall of her breast betraying her breathing. Beyond that, she might as well have been a corpse.
How fitting, that she is fallen, staring up at the heavens to which she could have ascended. She is weak, and must be reforged. I will shatter her, and bring together the pieces in molten heat, remaking her in the image my Master desires.
She has her destiny.
He stopped beside her, kneeling down to listen to the sound of her breathing. Heavy and racked with pain. He smiled. She was almost broken now. Almost....
With a blur of motion she burst into life, clawing up at his throat, grabbing at his neck. Her other arm flew up and struck the underside of his elbow. A second blow and the control panel fell from his hand.
"We.... owe.... you.... nothing!" she spat, still clawing at his throat. "I am.... who.... I.... am, and nothing else matters! We owe you...." She screamed as her collar charged with power and pain, but she maintained her grip on his throat. The control panel was nothing but a symbol, an object for her fear. The true command for her pain was within his mind.
And so she was screaming with pain, but still she held his throat. Her grasp was not strong enough to choke him, but her fingers were clawing at his skin. She possessed a ferocity and a strength he found surprising. She was supposed to be weak, to be pathetic and clinging and broken by her ordeals. She was not supposed to be this strong.
Pain kept surging through her, until she finally let go and slumped to the ground. He kept the pain up however, even as he staggered back, drawing in breath and regaining his composure. She was not supposed to be this strong.
Slowly, although even that small movement should have been impossible for her, she raised her head, focussing blazing eyes on him.
"I.... survive...." she rasped. "We.... survive. We do so.... because.... we.... have.... no other choice.... We die.... children.... die.... family.... friends.... loved ones.... all die.... but life.... life endures.... because life.... is much stronger.... than.... death.... Life.... endures!
"You.... are.... right...." She kept speaking, although she should have been able to do nothing but scream under such agony. "I.... do not.... know.... who.... I am.... I.... do.... not.... care! Who I am.... I make.... myself.... I.... We.... will survive.... We do not need you!"
He staggered back before the bitter, angry fury in her words, unable to believe that such fire was possible from one in such pain.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I.... do.... not.... care!"
"Who are you?"
"I.... do.... not.... care!"
"WHO ARE YOU?"
"She's right," said a new voice. "You can't make us submit to you just through pain. Power is nothing without authority. If you and the Vorlons want to sit back looking cryptic, then fine. We'll fight this war without you, because we have no other choice. We don't need you. You have no authority over us. If we have to, we'll find out who we are the hard way, without you."
Sheridan! But how...? He was supposed to be paralysed. He was supposed to be.... He was not supposed to be standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes of fury and at her with a gaze of such unspoken love.
No.... this is not over yet!
"And what is she to you? Nothing but a murderer! She destroyed your homeworld, and you're here! Agreeing with her! By any rights you should have beaten her to death long ago!"
"What is she to me? None of your damned business!"
"Oh.... And if I kill her?" He intensified the pain, but she did not move. Did not scream. Did not even avert her eyes. "What then?"
"I won't let you."
"Oh.... no foolishness about giving your life to save hers? No.... romantic platitudes and absurdities? No gallantries?"
"If I have to die to save her life, then yes.... I'll do it."
"John...." she said, finding the strength to speak at last. "No...."
"If I have to die, then yes, I'll do it."
"Why? You owe her nothing but pain. Why would you give your life for one such as her?"
"Because I.... because.... because the heart does as the heart does. The heart does not recognise boundaries on a map, or wars or political parties. The heart does as the heart does!"
"Oh, very deep. And countless billion humans are screaming at you. And what about you?" He turned to look at her, head still raised, eyes still blazing, still not screaming. "What about you? You swore to annihilate his people, remember? He captured you, took you away from your people, handed you over to death and torture, hit you, beat you.... screamed at you.... left you alone when you needed him most.... Why should you owe him any loyalty? If I offer to kill him to save your life...."
"I.... owe.... you.... nothing! I will.... answer.... no.... more.... of.... your.... questions!"
"You will."
"No," said Sheridan. "No, she won't. And neither will I. Now get the hell off this planet, and never ever come back!"
He looked from face to face, from dark eyes to green, and he realised that he had failed in his task. He quashed her pain and left, heart heavy and face downcast.
He had failed....
Perhaps....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Are you sure this is going to work?"
"I can't speak for your plan, but the technology will let you talk to them."
It was not that Sinoval was unused to holographic technology, but standing by his throne, suspended in space, staring at the oncoming Vorlon ship, he could not avoid a slight shiver. He did not like Vorlons and never had but.... their power could not be ignored.
<You have our representative. Release him now.> Sinoval looked at the Primarch, who shrugged.
"This is Sinoval, Primarch Nominus et Corpus, Warleader of the Wind Swords clan, Entil'zha of the Rangers, Satai of the Grey Council, Holy One of the Minbari." He was not sure how impressed the Vorlons would be by the list of titles, but it could not hurt. "I lead here now. Your.... representative will be returning to you when I am satisfied."
<Fallen. Died. Saviour. Which are you?>
Sinoval gave a start of surprise, but he recovered quickly. Of course the Vorlons would know the details of Valen's prophecy, and probably of his part in it. "That is for me to know."
<Who are you?>
Sinoval knew the significance of that question well enough. He also knew that there was no answer. "What do you want?"
The voice trembled with fury. <Never ask that question.>
"I will ask whatever question I desire. Do you wish to know what I want? A future for my people. United, strong, led from the top with courage and wisdom. That is what I want, and I will do anything to obtain it. I will fight against all enemies, inside and out. When the Darkness Valen spoke of comes against my people, I will crush it.
"I know what I want, and I know what I must do to obtain it. Can you say the same?"
<Release our emissary.>
"Why do you want him freed? Are you afraid of what he might tell me? Too late. I know all that I need to know. I knew he was one of yours the instant I saw him. He stinks of Vorlon. One of you is inside his head. Isn't that right? Destroy this place, and you destroy that part of yourself as well."
<Release him. Now.>
"When I am good and ready, and when you are gone. Leave this place, and I will set him free sooner or later, once I've learned everything I need to from him. He - and his Vorlon passenger - will be unharmed. I promise you that." Sinoval paused. "Or you can attack, and kill him."
There was a pause. <If he is not returned to us, then we will return to you, Saviour. We will return.> As Sinoval watched, a jump gate opened, and the Vorlon ship departed. Sinoval suppressed a cry of exultation. He had not really been certain this would work.
"I can see that life around you is going to be entertaining, at least," remarked the Primarch. "I have lived over twelve hundred of your years, and I would like to live a good many more. I must say, however, that this is the most exciting time I have ever known. What are your plans now?"
"Find out anything useful from that Morden, and then let him go. And after that...." Sinoval paused. What did he want? "After that, it will be time to return home."
"I thought your discovery had rendered that impossible."
"No. I may not be the One who will save my people, but if not I, then who? I am all that remains. I am the only one left who can."
"I see. I think I will enjoy conversing with your soul throughout eternity." The Primarch paused, and smiled. "Assuming I live long enough to take it, of course."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

John tore the collar from his neck and rushed towards Delenn. She had slumped to the ground, but raised her head as he reached her. She managed a weak smile.
"You were.... right," she said slowly. "The heart.... does.... as.... the heart.... does."
Slowly, he reached out to her neck and undid the collar, unable to think of words to say, or things to think, or.... or.... anything.
"John.... I...."
"Shush," he said. "You should rest. You.... should...."
Her head was gently lifting to meet his, only a minute distance between them. He could see deeply into her eyes, an infinite pool of green, filled with wonder and knowledge and power and beauty and.... and.... and he was running out of words.
"You should rest," he said slowly. She dropped her head, and nodded weakly.
As he helped her to rise, she rested against him. By the time they left the building she was walking more easily, but her arm was still linked into his. He doubted she had any intention of letting him go.
Truthfully, he had no intention of letting her go either.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He knelt down before his Master, bathed in the light of His holiness.
"Master," he rasped. "I have failed. I have failed you."
The Vorlon considered this for a moment, red eye gleaming amid the white.
Then, Kosh Naranek spoke.
<Good.>
And Charles Dexter was subsumed in the light of his Master's beauty.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The Allied Council of Kazomi 7 was in the middle of a particularly strained argument over trade routes, when the door opened and someone walked in.
The basis of the argument revolved around new parties coming to Kazomi 7, seeking trade. Lethke, Minister for the Economy, was arguing in his typically Brakiri business manner, that more trade would bring in much-needed revenue. It was all very well people needing new hospitals, housing, more ships to defend the place with and so on, but the money had to come from somewhere, and no, Minister Vizhak, there was no point in raising taxes because most people had no money to pay any taxes anyway.
Taan Churok, Minister for Defence, was arguing that letting more people near Kazomi Seven was an irredeemable security risk, and all these refugees were bad enough anyway, without a load of poxy merchants showing up everywhere.
Vejar, technomage and unofficial Minister for Doing Impressive Things with Magic and Keeping Keepers well away from the place, pointed out that he could check the merchant ship for anyone touched by Keepers, and that maybe the extra revenue would be a good idea.
Vizhak, Minister for General Internal Matters, said that yes, that was all very well, but Vejar was only one person, was bound to get tired and surely couldn't handle everything at once.
Vejar said, yes thank you very much, mysterious powers beyond the ken of mortal beings and I get told I can't handle a simple search for Keepers, whose particular biomorphic chemical energy stuff stands out a million miles away.
At that point the door opened and Delenn walked in. Her appearance was greeted with general surprise, and some murmurs of welcome. Lethke in particular had been advising her to take the place that had been set aside for her for some time now. She had always refused before.
Delenn, First Minister and Leader of the Allied Council, took the seat at the head of the table. If there was a hint of discomfort as she sat there, no one remarked on it.
"Welcome, Delenn," said Lethke. "It is good to have you here."
"I.... am fulfilling my responsibilities," she replied softly. "What were we discussing?"
With much argument, Lethke, Vejar and Taan Churok filled her in.
It was a good six hours before Delenn got out of the room, but the issue had been finally settled. The nascent alliance once again had its figurehead.