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| Volume 2: The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams | Part VII: The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams |
THIS is General Ryan to Babylon. Repeat, this is General Ryan to Babylon. Are you there, Babylon?"
Captain Dexter Smith sighed heavily and went to the commscreen. He did not want to be having this conversation. He did not want to be in this situation. He did not want to be going to Minbar. He wanted to be home, this whole damned war over.
But no one in this world ever got exactly what he wanted.
"Yes, General. Captain Smith here."
"Smith, good." Ryan sounded relieved. He was actually a half-decent human being, if all things were to be believed. Probably why he was out here, getting landed with all the messy work rather than back on Proxima, handing out the messy work. "What happened?"
Smith instinctively straightened, even though this transmission was audio-only and Ryan could not see him. "A massive explosion, General. It took out most of our weapons array, part of the transport tube system, and badly damaged bits of Engineering. We were lucky we were able to jump out of hyperspace in time, otherwise we might have got ourselves lost there."
He still remembered the explosion. He had been sitting in his office, pondering certain possibilities.... when the whole ship had been racked by the massive burst. The sheer shock had thrown the Babylon off course, but fortunately the jump engines were capable of opening a gate and getting out into normal space. Judging from the star readings they were out in very deep space, quite some distance in normal space from anywhere inhabited.
A few minutes after they had jumped out a much bigger jump gate had formed, and the Morningstar and several Drakh ships emerged.
"Was it natural, do you think?" Smith could hear the unspoken question in Ryan's words. The other option to its being natural.... It would be easy for Smith to agree with Ryan. The Babylon was an old ship after all. She had taken quite a battering in her time, and the new modifications and updates.... well, they were risky at best. A major systems failure was.... well, not a certainty, but a possibility. Had been so for some time. It would be easy to say that. Very easy. But....
.... but it would not be the truth.
"No, General. It was sabotage. A bomb, we think, although carefully planted. We.... think it was designed to cripple the ship rather than destroy it outright."
A pause. A long pause.
"Are you crippled, Captain?"
"All engines are operational, sir. Both jump and normal. Navigation is working fine. Outside communication is audio only, although inside communication is working fine. Starfuries are.... badly damaged. We estimate over fifty percent destroyed, the others.... probably need substantial repairs." It was Smith's turn to pause.
"Weapons systems?"
"All weapons bays are completely destroyed. All weapons are non-operational."
"I see.... Do you know who did this?"
"Yes, sir. We have her in custody now."
"Do you know why?"
"No, sir. She has not yet been questioned."
"Well...." Smith could practically see the anguish on Ryan's face. This was supposed to be a human mission - a chance to exorcise the ghost of the fall of Earth once and for all. And yet, it was abundantly clear to everyone that this mission was being carried out by aliens. The Drakh, who provided military help; the Streibs, with their economic benefits and distraction of other powers; the Shadows, with their technology. There were only three human capital ships here, and the Babylon was the only one of them which had been fighting this war since the beginning. With it gone, a powerful symbol of human resistance was gone as well, and there were yet more signals that humanity was being helped out by the aliens.
But if the Babylon could not fight....
"We hear you, Babylon," said Ryan. "We will leave some smaller ships here to help safeguard you while essential autorepairs are carried out. You are then to return to Proxima Three and hand over the saboteur to the appropriate authorities."
Smith was not sure which emotion he was feeling most. Despair, at not being present at the final battle over Minbar, and elation, for the same reason. In fact, what he was feeling most was an odd sense of.... disappointment, as he remembered the name of the saboteur, the one who had planted the bomb.
Stoner, Lieutenant T.
It was at exactly that point that another jump gate opened, a very big one, and this one did not carry allies. Not at all.
* * * * * * *
Londo Mollari shifted his gaze uneasily as the door to his cell opened. He had been here for what must have been several hours, drifting uncomfortably between sleep, dreams and waking delirium, without food or water.
The figure of a Narn stood silhouetted in the doorway. A big Narn. Londo twitched nervously. He was not afraid to die.... actually, that was a lie. He was afraid to die, but he wouldn't have minded so much if his death had had any purpose. This whole thing seemed so.... unnecessary.
"I...." Londo coughed violently, and began again. "I need to speak with you. It is about.... about one of your people.... G'Kar."
"Indeed?" the Narn said. He stepped forward and came into view at last. Londo recognised the uniform of a Warleader. "And what do you know of G'Kar?"
"I.... I work with him. He knows me."
"Do you mean to tell me that my nephew, the war hero, the prophet.... would form an alliance with a Centauri? Why?"
"For the greater good! Because.... because...." Londo struggled to think of something to say. "'Because we are fighting on the ramparts of our greatest castle, struggling to hold the walls together. Because we cannot let ourselves be blinded by our fears and by our hatreds and by the past. Because.... if we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'" He paused and took a deep breath.
"His, word for word," the Warleader said. "You do know him.... Either that, or you have some very clever spies. Am I to take it that you are one of his 'Soldiers of Light'?"
"A grand title," Londo remarked. "But yes, I am."
"A thing easy to say, but hard to prove."
"What do you need to know? By the Great Maker, what more do you need? Go ahead then.... kill me if you wish.... and doom yourself. G'Kar is a better man than you could ever...." Something clicked in Londo's memory. "Your nephew.... G'Sten!"
"You know my name. I am not surprised. Many of your people know it."
"Ah, but how many of my people would know this? When you were younger, a prophetess of my people said that you would die at a certain place.... in the mountains somewhere. Some years later, you found yourself there, surrounded by soldiers of my people. You resigned yourself to death, hearing again her prophecy.... but then, you fought back, and you managed to escape. Since then, you have known that there is no such thing as destiny. You are your own master.... or so it is said. I wonder what G'Kar would say if he saw you now."
G'Sten sighed, an oddly gentle gesture from such a huge Narn. "Then he was right. You are a free man. Go from here. I am not a part of my nephew's war. I am a soldier. I serve the needs of my people, but.... as you said.... if we cannot live together, we will surely die apart. I was there at G'Khamazad when he made that speech, and I wept bitter tears for what I have done, and what I still must do.
"Ah.... my brother produced a fine son. He would be proud."
Londo paused. "What sort of man was G'Kar's father?" he asked softly.
"A good man, a proud man, who never let the burdens of this world bow him. One day, he spilled a hot drink on the Centauri mistress he served. She had him hanged from a tree for three days. I am not the man my nephew is, and I never will be.
"Go to the docking bays. A ship is leaving here in less than an hour. It is ferrying the wounded to our nearest hospital facility, but it will make a minor stop, at one of the travel stations in Quadrant Thirty-eight. You and your two companions will get off there, and if I ever see you again, then you will die."
Londo blinked as G'Sten left, and he tried to rise. Another figure stepped in, and Londo started.
"Mr. Lennier!"
"It is.... good to see you are safe, Minister Mollari. The Warleader.... took some persuading."
"He did at that...." Londo stretched. "Ah, Great Maker.... I ache all over. I will never feel comfortable again, I swear I will not. Wait.... he said two companions.... who is the other?"
"Lord-General Marrago, of course. He is waiting for us at the docking bays. He is hiding. I.... knew how important he was to your mission, so I arranged for his freedom as well."
"Ah, you are a good man, Mr. Lennier. I do not know what I would do without you. Yes.... you are a very good man."
"Am I? Sometimes I.... wonder.... if that is the case.... Hurry. We must not be detected. Our departure from here is supposed to be secret, after all."
* * * * * * *
For the second time in only a few hours the Hall of the Grey Council was completely silent, the last few words ringing in the air. For the second time in only a few hours, it was Sinoval of the Wind Swords, Holy One of the Minbari, who had spoken those words. And, for the second time in only a few hours, the silence was broken by Sinoval himself.
"Our homeworld is lost to us. Fighting for it will only cause more loss. I have given orders for the evacuation of as many as we can hope to save. I...."
"Madness!" That was Sonovar, also of the warrior caste, but of the usually more liberal Night Walkers clan. Usually. "You have become weak in your absence, Sinoval. You are weak and pathetic and frightened of your own shadow. You...."
"Shadow.... is a dangerous word to speak in this place, Sonovar. A very dangerous word."
There was another long silence, as Sinoval and Sonovar stared at each other across the Hall. Sinoval's gaze was one of peace, of wisdom which came only with suffering, of revelation which came only with pain. Sonovar's was one of arrogance, and vigour, and the belief that youth is all-powerful.
"What are you suggesting?" barked Sonovar.
"I am suggesting nothing. I am urging you to listen, Sonovar. The Earthers have become more powerful than you remember. They are motivated by hatred, and by revenge, and by fear.... compelling emotions. And behind them always.... is the Enemy. We have fallen as far as the humans have. We should try to drag ourselves back. And to begin....
"The worker caste will have priority in the evacuation."
The Hall exploded. "Outrageous!" cried Sonovar. "You would give those.... those murderers preferential treatment.... over us! We who have fought and died against the Earthers and the Enemy...."
"That is indeed.... most, um.... unfair," said Gysiner. Sinoval's gaze landed on him, and he quickly fell silent.
"So the worker caste are murderers, are they, Sonovar? You have proof of that, I suppose?"
"Hedronn murdered the previous Grey Council in this very room. Records were shown.... his confession was made in full, and in public!"
"I see...." Sinoval gently ran his hands across the hilt of Stormbringer, and he equally gently pulled it free of the floor. Holding it loosely, he crossed the Hall towards Sonovar. The Council shifted uneasily. Sinoval paused before Sonovar, looking deep into the younger warrior's eyes....
Then he lashed out with Stormbringer, smashing the pike into the warrior's skull, sending him crashing to the floor. The other two warriors darted forward, but Sinoval thrust the pike at Sonovar's throat, holding it there.
"And if this pike crushes your throat, Sonovar.... then who is the murderer? I - or the weapon itself?" He stepped back. "Hedronn was the weapon, Sonovar, not the murderer. The worker caste bears no guilt, and carries no shame. That shame and that guilt are ours.... of the warriors for enacting such genocide, and of the religious caste for standing by as it was carried out. As minor payment for that, the worker caste will be given preferential treatment in leaving Minbar.
"Do not mistake me in this, Sonovar. The Council is no more, and this is no longer a democracy. I rule here, and I alone."
"Holy One?" The Council stirred. It was Kats speaking. She looked hesitant, and a little nervous. "Holy One.... you were right. My caste has been done a great wrong, but you were not the one who perpetrated it, nor many of those on Minbar. We will not flee while others are left to die. If we must evacuate Minbar, then we shall do so evenly, or not at all."
A slow smile crept across Sinoval's face. "I see.... Thank you, Lady Kats. You are obviously wiser than many of this assembly. And more forgiving than we deserve." He began to walk back to the centre of the circle, fully aware of the rush of motion behind him.
Satai were not meant to carry weapons into the Hall of the Grey Council, but as Sinoval had pointed out, they were no longer Satai and this was no longer the Grey Council. Sonovar and his two companions all drew their pikes and rushed towards Sinoval. He did not respond, simply waiting....
From the darkness surged the two Soul Hunters, wielding their own weapons - uncannily similar to the Minbari pikes. They knocked down the two warriors and Sinoval spun, facing Sonovar. A simple parry and a simpler thrust and Sonovar was down.
"This is not a democracy, Sonovar. Challenge me again, and I shall be more than happy to give the Soul Hunters the order for your death."
"Minbari do not kill Minbari!" he spat.
"And I will not kill you. I will not have to." He stepped back and began addressing the Council as a whole, turning around as he did so.
"I have brought you here to warn you. All the ships we have available are to rendezvous at one of our few remaining colonies. We will begin the fight back, but when we are ready, and no sooner. This war is not yet lost, and it may never be, but our homeworld is lost.
"Each of you will have to supervise the evacuation. Everything we have must be used to ferry away as many of our people as we can. Civilian ships, flyers, even this ship here. Save as many as you can, all of you.
"And to those we cannot save.... then may Valen have mercy on their souls, because humanity will not."
"Where will we go?" asked Sonovar. "Would you have us become wanderers? Refugees, tossed this way and that - flotsam of the galaxy!"
"If necessary, then yes! We have a few colonies remaining, and we will take back those which were stolen from us. This war is not over, Sonovar, but for you it may be."
Sinoval looked around the Council. "You all have your purposes.... now go!"
Kats bowed reverently as she left. Gysiner and Chardhay did so too, with some doubt and reluctance. Sonovar rose to his feet, eyes spitting fury at Sinoval.
"Do not challenge me, Sonovar. Trust me on that."
Sonovar snarled as he left. Sinoval was alone among the light and the darkness, reflecting on the twilight of the Minbari Federation, and wondering if he was the one who had caused the sun to set.
But then he suddenly laughed. "Fool, the sun always rises again. Always."
And then he left the Hall. He had other duties to perform.
* * * * * * *
Captain John J. Sheridan could feel the Babylon pulling at him as he led the Parmenion against it. He did not want to think about the circumstances of this ambush. This area was deep space, far from the usual shipping lanes, a long way from anywhere inhabited. There was no reason for any ships to be here....
.... and yet here they were, almost exactly at the location G'Kar had provided.
Hit and run, hit and run, hit and run.... a simple, straightforward mission. Jump in, wreak some havoc, jump out.
Sheridan was still uncomfortable about his last mission involving human ships - the misinformed attack on Beta Durani and the Babylon. This attack was better prepared than that, but still.... those were his people out there....
Fortunately the Drakh were there also, providing a much more welcome target than either of the human ships.
Hit and run, hit and run, hit and run.
Simple, straightforward.... no launching of Starfuries, just devastating cannon and broadside fire, with a few.... little extras.
"How long until the jump engines cool down enough?"
"Ten more minutes," replied Lieutenant Guerra. Sheridan nodded. That should be enough time.... Hopefully.
The Ozymandias and Ben Zayn obviously had no such qualms about hitting human ships. Sheridan could follow the tactical displays and saw the Ozymandias attacking the second human ship - the Morningstar.
The Drakh ships swooped through space, descending on the Parmenion. Forward cannons tore through the leading ship, while right broadsides forced the others to retreat. This would be easier with Starfury support, but Sheridan could not risk any being caught behind.
Where the rush of battle should have flowed through him, he found himself feeling strangely.... subdued. This did not feel right, firing on his own ships, facing down his own people. This was not right.
He turned to look at Lyta Alexander. She looked.... strained.
"Any sign of the Shadows?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Just those.... Drakh.... things. They have something similar, but their.... their ships buzz at the inside of my head. It's like there's an insect rattling around in my skull. They're.... I can't describe it."
"As long as there's no Shadows around." Sheridan looked at Guerra, who checked his instruments.
"A few more seconds.... that's it! Jump engines down to optimal temperature."
"Right, get us out of here." Sheridan activated the ship-to-ship commline. "Ben Zayn, this is Sheridan.... we're heading out."
"Understood. Launch the fusion bomb and we'll follow."
Sheridan found himself nodding as the jump point opened. As the Parmenion swept into hyperspace, the fusion bomb it had launched detonated, sending the Drakh ships plummeting back and stunning the Morningstar. Ben Zayn took advantage of the confusion to escape back into hyperspace himself.
Well, one skirmish satisfactorily concluded.... Sheridan just wished the rest of the war could go as well....
* * * * * * *
She had not been flying today, had not felt herself hanging in space, suspended above infinity by the tiny speck that was her Starfury, but Neeoma Connally could feel herself flying....
The orb.... it was speaking to her.... whispering at the inside of her mind.... Drakh words forming Drakh thoughts inside her....
They had been close.... recently.... they had been close, she could feel them....
She could hear them whispering to her, repeating the same words over and over again....
You will be ours.... You will be ours.... You will be ours....
* * * * * * *
Alfred Bester looked squarely into the eyes of President Morgan Clark and put on a false smile. Beside Clark were Ambassador David Sheridan and Security Chief Welles. Clark was largely a walkover, but Welles and Sheridan.... both were dangerous people. Sheridan in particular knew of Bester's alliance with G'Kar, and Welles.... he always knew more than the telepath did.
Still, both were also largely intelligent people. Their power stemmed from Clark. Get rid of Clark, add a little political manoeuvring and.... a lot of problems would be over. The Resistance Government here was already indebted to Bester. Once Clark was gone, it might be time to call in a few of those debts.
"It's always a pleasure to have you here on Proxima, Mr. Bester," Clark said smoothly, lying of course. "We all remember the help you gave us after the.... Orion incident a few years ago."
"It was a pleasure, Mr. President. We are all human, after all."
"So, I trust your business here has gone well?"
"Very well, thank you. I have checked in with some of my representatives here. They have found a few telepaths in the up-and-coming generation, so I will be taking them back to my base as soon as I can. I am sure we all recognise the importance of telepaths for the future of humanity."
"Of course," Clark replied. Of course he did.... He had after all been responsible for repealing several items of anti-telepath legislation, the.... secret price of Bester's aid during the Orion crisis. For the first time since the formation of Psi Corps, telepaths finally had similar rights to those of normal humans. Bester still controlled them all of course, but they were holding more power within the Government. Why, his little protégée Miss Donne now held quite a valuable post in the Military Intelligence.
"But," Bester continued. "My visit here was more than mere daily business. I wished to congratulate you personally on the success so far of the engagement against the Minbari. We've lived in fear of them for too long."
"Exactly," Clark said. "We have Ambassador Sheridan to thank for it, of course, although our captains and soldiers have all performed superbly of course. Our estimates put our fleet and that of our allies at Minbar itself within a day."
Bester raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "So soon? That is not public knowledge, is it?"
"No.... it will be announced after we have decisively taken their homeworld. I trust you will be present when we receive the reports of the battle there?"
Bester smiled. "I would not miss it for anything, Mr. President."
There was a sudden chime at Clark's computer console. "If you will excuse me?" He rose to his feet and went to the commscreen. Bester looked up at Sheridan, and smiled. The Ambassador's gaze could have shattered rock. Still smiling, Bester tried sliding into the folds of Sheridan's mind. He had to be subtle here.... Sheridan was a strong-willed and observant person, and would probably be able to detect anything too deep, even if only from Bester's expression.
Bester slid inwards....
Images.... the Minbari.... descending on Earth, ship after ship, frantic attempts to flee.... the knowledge that a world was going to die.... Some ships were trying to escape, but too late.... they had left it all too late....
A Machine.... The Machine was the world.... figures.... aliens.... hideous aliens.... they were.... Pain! Glowing eyes in the dark.... A voice, kindly and old, yet filled with despair.... the voice tried to reach out to him.... He....
Glowing eyes in the dark.... eyes that knew he was there....
Bester leapt back quickly, gasping. He had rarely encountered such a jumble of thoughts before. There was no rationality to them, no sense of order, no semblance of coherence. He had never experienced anything so chaotic before.
"Are you all right, Mr. Bester?" Sheridan asked. He knows, damn him! He knows!
"Just a.... sudden migraine," was the carefully worded reply. "An unfortunate side effect of my.... abilities."
"Ah.... well, you must not over-exert yourself. Perhaps a quiet lie-down might be in order?"
Bester was on the verge of coming up with a reply when Clark returned, his eyes in a fury. "Treason!" he snapped. "And sabotage...." He looked around at the three men before him. Bester would have tried to scan Clark, but other attempts recently had all been fruitless. There was some.... barrier in the way.
"Our fleet was ambushed on its way to Minbar. The Babylon was sabotaged from within, and will have to head back for repairs. It will come here...."
"But surely Beta Durani is nearer," spoke up Welles, "or even the captured colonies in Beiridain or Rokugan."
"It will come here," snapped Clark. "Captain Smith has arrested the saboteur, and I mean to see her punished."
Bester pretended surprise, but inwardly he felt the warm glow of contentment at a job well done. So, little Miss Winters actually did her job right. G'Kar will be pleased....
"And.... the rest of the fleet?" he asked cautiously.
"Some of the Drakh ships were destroyed, but the Corinthian and the Morningstar needed only minor repairs. The fleet is delayed, but not stopped. They will still be making for Minbar. Nothing will stop us. Nothing!"
"As you say, Mr. President," said Sheridan flawlessly. Welles and Bester added similar sentiments.
Clark looked around at those nearest to him. "Mr. Bester, Mr. Welles.... I am sorry to cut this meeting short, but these new.... developments mean I must talk with Ambassador Sheridan. I am sure you understand?"
Bester rose to his feet and nodded. "Mr. President," he said respectfully, as he left.
No sooner had he gone two steps outside the door, than Mr. Welles came up behind him. "My office," said Welles. "Now."
"I am afraid I have pressing business...."
"My office, now.... or I will have your delightful attaché here arrested on numerous counts of murder, I will indict you on various charges, beginning with treason, and.... oh yes. One other thing.
"I will reveal to the President everything I know about G'Kar, and your dealings with him, in particular the presence of certain anomalous ships at the Battle of the Second Line.
"Well, Mr. Bester?"
Bester spread his arms wide. "It appears you have me where you want me, Mr. Welles."
"Quite right. You know the way of course. Come."
* * * * * * *
"It.... it is highly irregular. Wrong, even. Um.... yes, it is wrong." Gysiner hesitated, unwilling to look up from his kneeling position. He and Chardhay had discussed matters after leaving the Hall, and had decided that Chardhay would make the arrangements for the 'evacuation' while he, Gysiner, would deal with this.... other matter.
Silence.
"Surely you can see that. They are only Earthers, after all, with some rabble of Shadow allies. I mean.... they cannot pose a threat to us, especially with your help...."
Silence.
"Will you at least.... um.... consider it?"
Silence.
"Sinoval.... he is.... well, unbalanced, maybe. All of the warriors are.... but him especially. I mean...." Gysiner's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "He even brought Soul Hunters here.... He cannot be the right person to lead us. Don't you agree?"
The Vorlon spoke at last.
<Perhaps.>
Gysiner stopped, realising that that was as much as he would get. Perhaps it would be enough.... but then, perhaps not.
* * * * * * *
"So, how are you feeling now?"
Susan Ivanova contemplated the question for a while, and then smiled and nodded briefly. "Better.... much.... I.... oh, hell. I suppose I should thank you.... I mean, the last few days have been.... difficult.... and well.... oh, why is this so difficult?"
Laurel Takashima smiled. "Because you're an innately stubborn human being, who finds thanking anyone incredibly difficult and an insult to your stubborn, taciturn Russian psyche?"
Susan laughed. "Ah.... something like that, yes. Oh.... you're an evil person sometimes."
"Me? I don't know who you're thinking of, but the only evil person in this room is you, my dear Miss Ivanova."
Susan snorted. "I will have you know I am a fundamentally good and kind person. Now I don't know who has been spreading these rumours about me, but...."
"Rumours? Facts, you mean."
"Hah! I am sweet and innocent and...."
Flash. He said nothing as her pike smashed through his ribs and pulped his heart and lungs together. He had died almost instantly, without even realising what had happened to him. She had stood there for a moment, wondering just what she had done, and then she did not know whether the scream that sounded came from Lyta, or from herself.
Susan started, and began to tremble. Almost instantly, she felt Laurel's arms around her, holding her. She wanted to cry, but she could not. She could not even speak. All she could do was see over and over again the image of Marcus Cole as he died.
"I.... I...." She tried to breathe, but her breath caught in her throat. She was shaking. Not even the feel of Laurel's hands in her hair or Laurel's breath on her cheek could free her.
"Oh, God!" she cried, finally able to speak. "I'm sorry.... That.... that was...."
"That was one of the worst fits I've ever seen you in," Laurel said. "You should go to the doctor."
"And what could a doctor do? The last I heard they couldn't erase the past, you know. They can't.... Laurel, I did love him. Really I did. And Anna.... she was.... she was a friend. How was I to know? How was I to.... All I wanted was for them to be happy.... but...."
"I know, Susan. I know." Laurel pulled back, and Susan could see her staring deeply into her eyes. The bad eye, the one that wept pus, and ached, and itched, and could hardly see at the best of times.... it was that eye which saw better than the other, and that eye which told Susan Ivanova exactly what she did not wish to hear. Laurel Takashima loved her, and Susan was too scared to return that feeling.
Laurel reached forward and kissed Susan gently on the lips. "Believe it or not, Susan Ivanova, there are people in this world who care about you, okay? There are some of us.... Never forget that."
"I.... I.... I know. I'm sorry. I'm a mess at the moment, aren't I?"
"Not much more so than usual."
Susan laughed. "Ah.... thank you. I.... I needed this."
"I'll always be here for you. Always...."
"Don't say that." Susan's face had gone deathly white. "Please.... don't ever say that. D.... d.... Don't.... Don't...."
And in her mind again was the cry which would never leave, which would always ring in her ears.
YOU PROMISED I'D BE SAFE!
* * * * * * *
The massive space-ark its inhabitants called Cathedral was not a pleasant place at the best of times, even to those inhabitants. To a human, it was considerably less so. But then, Sinoval mused as he entered the room which had become a cell, if humans played games with politics, they deserved to learn the price of failure.
The human called Morden stood up as Sinoval entered. "Ah, Primarch.... so good to see you again." He did not sound the least bit sincere.
"You're a free man," Sinoval said. "Take your shuttle and go."
Morden raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's awfully kind of you.... but I don't see why you're being so magnanimous now. After all, I've only been here a month or so."
"You said there were factions among the Vorlons.... different ideologies competing for power. Which faction you represent, I'm still not sure. As it is, I am sure where the loyalty of your ambassador to Minbar lies. He can wait until later. You cannot.
"Go back to the Vorlons and give them this message. The Minbari are mine. If I ever see a Vorlon near any of my people ever again, I will smash his armour open and tear him apart."
"Quite the comedian.... Angering the Vorlons is rarely a good idea."
"We shall see, and I find little which is amusing in this situation. I have learned all I can from you.... so you may go. Do not even think about coming back."
"So kind of you...." Morden left, and Sinoval doubted he would ever see the human again. As it was, he did not care. He had other concerns.
The first of these led him to the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus. He was found, not surprisingly, at the Great Pillar, standing on top of an impossibly tall spire of rock, a holographic display of space all around him.
"Minbar," he said reflectively. "I've never been there. Over twelve hundred years old, and Minbar is the one place I've wanted to go most often. It is strange the way the Fates bring us around, isn't it?"
Sinoval stepped up beside him, silently, looking at the representation of his homeworld. He had not been born on Minbar, but still.... it was a place of beauty, of age, of custom. To see it like this almost broke his heart.
"How goes the evacuation?"
"Not quickly enough. Not nearly quickly enough. We will not be able to save everyone, but we will do what we can. We will have to buy some time...."
"Ah...." The Primarch smiled.
"The weapons here on Cathedral. How strong are they?"
"Strong enough to hold their own against.... say.... a Minbari war cruiser. One, maybe two. Against a full fleet.... I do not know. And the Drakh have clashed with us before, and they have very long memories. I would say that we can hold them off.... for a little while perhaps."
"That's all we'll need."
The Primarch looked at Sinoval, and then suddenly began to laugh. "That is what I like about you.... You make an old man's life very interesting."
"We are cursed to live in interesting times. I would have it no other way."
"No," the Primarch admitted. "Me neither."