Chapter 1

I'VE come home.
I should be happy. I should be many things. For everything that has happened to me in recent months, for everything I have helped build on Kazomi 7, the Alliance formed there.... for all that, Minbar has still been my home. It was here I was lifted on my father's shoulders to watch the ceremonies at temple, here I met and served with Dukhat, here I met and loved Neroon, here I watched my father die.
I should be many things. I should not be this unhappy. But this is not the Minbar I left, not the home I knew.
Oh, it is not just the physical changes. Those I could adapt to. Tuzanor destroyed, Yedor almost entirely demolished, the ground poisoned, the skies filled with burning rain and clogging clouds.... all these I could adapt to and learn from. No, it is the changes in our people.
Sinoval rules here now. A warrior. He has, I think, at last achieved the Minbar he wanted, made the Minbari that which he desired. The worker caste were all but destroyed in the recent schism - oh, Valen, why could I not have been here? The warriors are split, torn right down the middle between those who follow Sinoval and those who oppose him. My own religious caste.... we have fallen just as far, if not further. We are divided, shattered, torn.
These are not my people, and this is not my home. I wish I could say otherwise, but under Sinoval I doubt either fact will change much in the near future.
Yes, I believe he honestly cares for our people. I believe he truly holds that his actions are correct and right. I even believe he is the right person to lead us now. He has a ruthlessness, a power and a conviction I could never match. There are many things I could do in the pursuit of a rightful goal, but nothing compared to what he could.
No, he is the right person, but I cannot help feeling he will damn us all - and himself - before he is finished. His soul, his righteousness, his convictions.... they are all his to give away, to barter, to sacrifice as he wills. Ours are not, and never will be.
I just hope he remembers that.
Personal diaries of Delenn, dated December 18th, 2259.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Accurate tallies of the dead are still not possible. Sech Durhan is still working on some sort of census of those we got out, but a number of the refugee ships have not arrived at any of our set locations, so we cannot be certain of anything much. Tuzanor has been confirmed as destroyed completely, but there is still no word from the southern cities...."
Sinoval listened to the reports coming in from all over the planet. Restoring the communications satellites had been his immediate concern and, with a little help from the Soul Hunters, that had been managed fairly quickly. A number had now been sent out to some of the worst-hit areas, carrying medical aid and emergency assistance. They were each accompanied by as many Minbari as Sinoval could trust.
The devastation was nearly total, and even approximate estimates put the dead at hundreds of millions and counting. Not just from the initial bombardment, but from subsequent events - the burning, acid rainfall, the violent earthquakes, fires spreading everywhere, shortages of food and drinkable water, mysterious illnesses which sprang up from nowhere. Some scientists believed that the humans had used some kind of chemical agent in their bombardment, poisoning the atmosphere.
Sinoval had not slept in the three days since the humans had retreated. Nor had many of those working under him. He demanded from his followers no less than he would ask of himself.
Problems, issues, concerns.... rising at him from all sides.
The Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, former leader of the Soul Hunters until Sinoval had bargained his way to that position.
"One of our.... brethren is being held in Serenla. He...."
"He what?"
"He came across a dying Minbari. After it became clear that there was no hope of saving her, our brother.... took her soul."
"Execute him," Sinoval said quickly, without looking up. "A rope around the neck, I think. Publicly."
"But.... he has served me for centuries. He...."
"We had a deal, if you remember. No souls from any of my people are to be harvested. Not one until the day I die! You are the one thing holding my people together and I will not have them hating you. Any who disobey my orders at this time are to be executed. That includes you, my friend. Soul Hunter or Minbari.... I rule here."
"And his.... collection?"
Sinoval had paused. "Save it, apart from the Minbari soul. That one is to be released, but the others should be brought back to Cathedral."
"I see. Thank you."
Problems....
Kats had contacted him earlier. She and Sech Durhan had done what they could on the Vindrizi's sanctuary world and had made arrangements with one of the few remaining independent Minbari colonies in Sector 27. Ships were being sent both there and here, but a number of the refugee ships had vanished, preyed upon by raiders. Sinoval curtly ordered two warships sent out to find these raiders and destroy them.
Problems....
He had visited the Hall of the Grey Council on board the Valentha. He had found three former members of the Council there; Sonovar, one of his warrior flunkeys, and Chardhay. Sonovar was trying to speak out against Sinoval, and Chardhay was listening avidly. Sinoval had dismissed all of them and put them under close guard. He had then closed the Hall. It still had the aura of death and torture.
Problems....
He sat back and sighed. There would be no better time to do this. He had put it off for too long, probably because he had no idea of what to say. Nevertheless, there were many things that needed to be said.
He sent a message and, half an hour or so later, Delenn and the Starkiller arrived on board the Valentha.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Please, Satai Deeron, we ask only that you listen to us."
"I have been listening to you, priestling, and I have heard little worth noting. Your words are treason at best. Why should I not have you reported to Sinoval for this?"
Gysiner sighed softly and looked at the woman before him. Warriors were notoriously.... difficult, not to mention awkward, but this was necessary. No one of his caste could get close enough to Sinoval to.... do.... what was necessary. Still, the thought of trusting anything this important to a warrior was.... abhorrent. Recent events had clearly shown how skilled their leadership was. Valen had granted them a position of great responsibility and they had abused it. If the warriors had proven themselves inadequate to lead and the workers were now incapable of leading, then that left only the religious caste.
The religious caste were, after all, the chosen of Valen, the ones who kept alive his ways and teachings and tales. Why, the Vorlon had said so. He had said....
He had said many things, not all of which Gysiner could recall now, but one thing he could clearly remember.
It involved Deeron. She alone could do this. "Bring her to me," had been the message. "Bring her here."
"This is foolishness," Deeron snapped. "Do you have any idea of how much there is to do here? Do you...?"
"Yes, I do," replied Gysiner with quiet intensity. "And this is more important than anything else. Come with me. Please, Satai."
"Satai no longer," said Deeron quietly. She seemed affected by the sincerity in Gysiner's voice, and finally she nodded. "Very well, but this must be done quickly."
Gysiner smiled and gestured, leading her out into the ruined streets and buildings of the capital of Minbar. Yedor had not been directly struck by the bombardment, but the shaking of the earth, the poisoning of the ground, the fire raining from the skies.... all had taken their toll. Of the ancient, beautiful city, only one building stood completely intact. While others lay in piles of rubble, or as half-shadows of former glory, the Temple of Varenni - where Valen had proclaimed the destiny of the Minbari - the Temple still stood proud.
It was there that Gysiner led her. Deeron visibly shuddered as she entered the holy ground, and why should she not? This place was, after all, the site of the greatest failure of her caste. Here, a thousand years ago, Marrain had challenged Valen in the holy light of the Starfire Wheel and had been defeated, beginning the rightful ascension of the religious caste.
Many had fled here during the bombardment, seeking the protection of this sacred place. They were all gone now, returning to their homes to rebuild what they could. In any case, most of them had been unwilling - or unable - to remain here, measuring their own insecurities and flaws against the perfection of Valen himself. Even Gysiner felt uncomfortable here.
The Vorlon was here, standing still, looking at the Starfire Wheel, regarding it in all its historical glory. Still intact after all these years. Rumour said that he had been here then, the last time this Wheel had been used.
He turned, and Gysiner's breath caught in his throat. So beautiful, he was so beautiful, even within his hard shell. Underneath.... was everything the Minbari had always supposed to be true, but dare not imagine.
He regarded Deeron, his eyepiece swivelling gently. There was damage there, freshly repaired. Gysiner knew what had happened and anger surged within him. That one such as Sinoval should even think of harming....
<Serve,> he said, addressing Deeron. <Serve, and obey, in all things.>
Deeron was visibly awed, but she still managed to maintain her composure. "Why? What loyalty do I owe you? Why should I possibly serve you?"
Gysiner started. Such.... such.... blasphemy! Still, she was a warrior, and she did not know.... everything....
"Show her, Lord," he pleaded. "Let her see, as I have. Let her know, as I do, and then all her questions will be answered."
The Vorlon hesitated, and then nodded slowly. His encounter suit began to open, bathing both of them in brilliant light....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval looked around the room again, noting even the most minor details. He had wanted this meeting to be held somewhere other than Cathedral or Minbar, and so the audience chamber aboard the Valentha was the only suitable place. Here, one could almost imagine that the recent devastation had never happened.
Almost.
As far as Sinoval was concerned the whole ship still stank, of torture, of death, of.... of Vorlons. He never wanted to be here again, but the ship was a powerful symbol to the Minbari. It was associated with the government, with power and justice and authority. In time, and with hope, that association would be transferred to Cathedral, but for now, it was still here.
Besides, getting rid of one of the few warships he had available would be a foolhardy move. He had tried taking an inventory of the fleet he had remaining. A fair number of capital ships had been destroyed in the war, but there were still many intact. Kalain had sent them out on spurious missions - long-range patrols, 'fact-finding missions' deep into Shadow territory. Sinoval had sent out a recall order to those he could find, but there were many he could not. Kalain's records had been.... well obscured. Still, five capital ships had returned since the bombardment. Two of them remained here and the other three had been sent on to safeguard the refugees. As for....
The door opened, and Sinoval rose to his feet fluidly. The two Soul Hunters who were always on guard came up beside him, something they only did if they were expecting a threat - to themselves, of course, not to him.
In walked Sheridan and Delenn. Neither looked overly comfortable being here, but they were putting on as polite expressions as they could manage.
Sinoval looked first at Delenn. She had changed since he had seen her last - during the battle over Proxima 3. Her human and Minbari features were closer meshed now than they had been. She also looked more.... complete, as if her soul had resolved its differences. The way her arm was linked around Sheridan's indicated some of the possible reasons for that.
And then to Sheridan.... He looked awkward. He wanted to be here even less than Delenn. A warrior's grudges are never forgotten. Sinoval struggled to remember who had said that. Not Durhan, maybe.... He stopped that line of thought. What did it matter? Whoever had said it, Sheridan had put aside old grudges, at least for a while.
"I.... thank you for coming here," he said formally, ushering them in. "I realise that you have both been busy." - Delenn distributing as much medical aid as she could, bringing in food and medicine from Kazomi 7, and Sheridan helping patrol the borders, rebuild the jump gate and repair the damaged satellites - "Still, this is something I must share with you."
Sinoval paused, looking at both of them. Delenn was clearly tired, but there was still a vibrancy in her human eyes. Almost hatred.... And Sheridan, he was suspicious, as he had every reason to be. The Soul Hunters edged closer to Sinoval.
"Send them away, Sinoval," Delenn said wearily. "There is no place for your assassins here."
Sinoval started and turned to look at his guards. They had been with him for so long he sometimes forgot what they were, and what they meant. "They.... are as much a part of me as my arms and legs," he replied. "They are with me in all things."
"Not this. Not here."
Sinoval shrugged. He was tired, and this was too important. "Go," he told his guards. "Just outside the door. I am sure you will sense my death soon enough if it is to happen here. You shall not lose me." The two Soul Hunters looked at each other and shrugged, then both of them left the room. "There," Sinoval said. "Is all to your satisfaction now?"
"Not even remotely," Delenn said. "Bad enough that you have brought them to Minbar at all, Sinoval. But if they are the only way for you to gain power over your own people, then so be it. You now rule from your floating castle, high in the heavens, while people die on the ground below."
Sinoval snorted and shook his head. He had anticipated every word, and many more. Delenn had ample reason to detest his actions here. "We have always ruled from the heavens above, remote and distant. I do no more."
"The Grey Council never offered Minbari souls to those.... monsters!"
"And neither have I. They serve me, for the time being, on terms mutual to both of us. Do you honestly think I would give up the souls of our people to them?"
Delenn looked at him and tilted her head slightly. There was a great pity in her eyes. "There is nothing I would consider you incapable of, Sinoval. Nothing."
"Be that as it may. What is done is done. Please, sit and drink. I had some water brought here...."
"We are not thirsty," Delenn said. "Say what you must and then let us go. We have much to do."
Sinoval shifted his gaze to Sheridan. "And you, Starkiller? Do you let her speak for you? I thought you more of a warrior than that. You spoke more when you came to Cathedral."
Sheridan's face was taut, his eyes dark. "I agree with everything Delenn says. She just says it nicer than I would. Our deal was a matter of convenience only. I wanted to save Minbar as much as you did." He tightened his hold on Delenn's arm. "Don't think that makes us friends."
"I did not. The fact remains that both of you have saved my people. Without your help, the situation would be much worse than it is now. You help us still. I thank you for that, and I owe you for that. When the time comes that you need my aid, call, and I will come with whatever resources I have. I am in debt." His gaze shifted from Sheridan to Delenn, and back again. "To both of you."
"We will never need your help," Delenn said. "Concentrate on trying to help 'your' people out of the mire you brought them to. Use your resources that way."
"Ah. Of course. You have no reason to like me. I have done.... things for which I can never be forgiven, and yet I will stand by every single action I have taken and say I took them all because I believed they were right.
"Delenn, when I was a child, I saw a vision of Valen." She started, as if about to say something, but then paused, perhaps wondering if he lied. "The vision promised me I would bring our people to a great destiny. I would be the salvation of Minbar. As I grew, I became more and more convinced of that destiny. By the end of the war.... I was certain of it.
"Recently I have been on a.... quest. That was what drew me to my allies. On Cathedral I learned.... many things, none of them pleasant to hear. Among these was that I was never destined to lead Minbar. I am not the One the prophecies speak of. I am not a holy saviour, not a prophet, nothing. At most, I was to work with and help another, and even that destiny may have been someone else's. I was never meant to lead, Delenn: you were."
She said nothing, but her head fell.
Sinoval began to move, walking around the room, still speaking. "There is no destiny, no preordination, nothing. Everything is a game, organised by the Vorlons, the Enemy, the fortunes, the fates, even Valen himself. I lead Minbar now because I made myself do it. I will guide my people to their destiny because I have the power and the strength to do it. I am not afraid.
"I could ask you to return, Delenn, but that would be impossible. You are still Zha'valen, still outcast. Besides, if all that I have heard is true, you have your own destiny."
She nodded slowly. "Yes, on Kazomi Seven."
"Yes.... I had heard about that even before you came here. You cannot return, and there are no others fit to lead. The events of the ten cycles since Dukhat fell have left us with cowards, madmen, weaklings and a Hall full of the dead. I am all, and I rule here because I can, and because there is no other.
"I swear before Valen I will do all that is right for our people, everything that I can. Everything. Do you believe me, Delenn?"
"I.... Yes, I do. I do not like it, and I do not like what you are doing, but I cannot dispute your right to lead. You have the Minbar you wanted, Sinoval. Do right by it." She turned and made to leave, Sheridan following her.
"Wait." They both turned. "One.... other...." This, Sinoval did not want to tell them, but he had to. Honour at least compelled him to. "This is for you, Starkiller." He paused. "You are dying."
"What is this?" he asked. "If this is some sort of threat...."
"No threat. Just the truth. Do you remember when you were on this ship last time? When we attacked your world?" He nodded. "You were kept in a cell for a time. While you were in that cell, you were infected with a virus. It was engineered by Jha'dur.... Deathwalker. I.... I knew of her presence here, and before the end I tried to be rid of her. I did not know of her plans for you, Starkiller. That is the truth. I would never have wanted.... that fate for you."
"What fate?" he asked, his voice flat and emotionless. "What kind of virus?"
"Terminal." Sheridan drew in a deep breath, and from his expression it might well have frozen in his throat. "It was created at the behest of the Enemy, designed for use in placing agents of theirs in high places. They have.... other methods available to them, but these are all flawed. It was their hope that this method was not.
"First, this virus takes about two years to manifest, so you will not experience any symptoms for another year at least. Then, the symptoms are.... distressing. Second, the virus is not contagious or infectious yet, and it will not become so until some time after the symptoms begin to show. Then, it will be one hundred percent contagious, and one hundred percent fatal. There is a cure... but it is only available from the Enemy. The price would be nothing less than the slavery of your soul to them."
Sinoval could see Sheridan's hand tighten around Delenn's. Her face had gone white. "There is a cure?" she said. "There.... is a cure."
"Yes. In what time I have had, I have questioned the Soul Hunters about this virus, and have tried to obtain information from Jha'dur's files. Most of them are heavily encoded, and some were destroyed. The ones that I have gained access to describe only the symptoms, and a few details of her plans and history. I think she.... intended them to be read. They were mocking in tone. However, I have not been able to devote much time to this, so there may be more." Sinoval's faintly optimistic tone did not get him very far, especially when there was more to tell.
"What else?" asked Delenn. She could see that there was more.
"You were not the first to be exposed to this virus. In a.... prototype form, Jha'dur did expose another to it. Kalain."
Delenn gasped. She had.... heard of what had happened to Kalain. Although it had been kept secret for months, his physical degradation had been made public with his appearance at the Temple of Varenni during the bombardment. He had vanished from there recently, which was a shame. Sinoval did not like to think of Kalain suffering anywhere. It was not a fate which became a warrior.
"Then.... those are the symptoms of this virus?" she whispered in a horrified tone.
There was silence.
"I will do all I can to try to break the remaining codes on Jha'dur's files," Sinoval said at length. "There may be something there. And if Kalain can be found, maybe he will know something. Maybe...."
"No," Sheridan said suddenly. Delenn started, looking up into his eyes. "Your people come first. Concentrate on them, not on me. I have another year, you said."
"Jha'dur implied so, yes."
"Enough time. Help your people first."
"John," Delenn whispered.
"No. Do what you can for your people, Sinoval. They take priority."
"I.... see.... I thank you, Starkill.... Sheridan. Remember that I am in your debt. Both of you. If you but call, I will...."
"I.... hope you won't take this amiss, Sinoval," Sheridan said firmly. "Thanks for at least telling me about this, but.... please don't come near either of us again. We'll do what we can here, but.... stay away. And.... if you don't mind, we'll leave you now. We'd.... like to be alone."
Sinoval bowed, in knowledge and understanding. When he lifted his head, both of them were gone.
He sighed, and returned to his work.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"You should rest."
Kats turned, hearing a familiar voice gently chiding her. She smiled slightly as Kozorr hobbled into the room, his damaged arm wrapped around the long staff he used for walking. The fact that he was walking alone was surprising, so soon after Kalain had beaten him so severely, but it was the ruined hand which drew Kats' attention. It was covered by a thick glove, but she knew what was beneath. The skin had been melted away, parts of the bone destroyed, fingers all but incinerated.... wounds inflicted saving her from a torture designed to break her, body and spirit.
"And you should be healing," she said pertly, still smiling. "I do not believe your physicians have given you permission to be up."
"I was perfectly capable of co-ordinating the exodus from my sickbed, so why should I not be capable of helping out elsewhere?"
"Because you can barely walk, and because you are leaning on that staff so heavily it is likely to break any moment."
"Honourable wounds," he said, a wide grin splitting his young face. The scars around his head and along his eyes seemed to dance. "Sustained nobly in battle. Were these older times, there would be a song made about me, risking all in the defence of a lady."
"Think about your song from your bed, my noble hero. You should rest."
"Oh, yes?" Kozorr hobbled across the room and fell down on the floor next to Kats. "This from the person who has had no sleep in over two days and whom even Sech Durhan fears is driving herself too hard."
"Sech Durhan talks too much."
"And you not enough." He smiled. "You speak so little I almost forget the sound of your voice sometimes."
"Years of silence, for fear that none would want to hear what I have to say. I - or my caste."
"Older times, gone now." Kozorr reached out with his good hand and took hers, pulling it gently from the computer screen where she had been calculating the food reserves available. "I promise you.... your caste will receive all the recognition they deserve, and you with them. Sinoval has promised it."
"I did not hear any such promise."
"Well.... I am sure he will promise it.... when he has the time. He is busy."
Kats slowly studied her companion. She had known of Kozorr for some time but had never paid him much attention. He had been present when Hedronn had been murdered at Tuzanor, and then he had been just another warrior. But at the Grey Council.... he had seemed to be one of the few who had been affected by her torture, and the only one willing to take action to aid her, even though it cost him the use of his hand, and nearly his life.
He often seemed older than he was. In fact, he was one of the youngest Satai in recent memory, even slightly younger than Delenn had been when she was raised. And yet in his eyes.... there was little of his youth, and much of his experience. Only when he smiled did he seem happy, and he only smiled when he was with her.
"You.... admire Sinoval, don't you?"
"I will follow him until I die. I will live for him, and die for him."
"Some might say that was blasphemy." Kats knew full well the Ranger creed. We live for the One, we die for the One. The One was Valen.
"Let them say it. I do not care. I will follow him forever...." There was something unspoken at the end of that sentence, and Kats thought she knew what it was.
"Well...." she said awkwardly. "If you will not rest, then perhaps you can help me here. Our food supplies are desperately short. The.... United Alliance.... of Kazomi Seven has offered us help, and I am tallying what we are likely to need."
"Interesting stuff," Kozorr noted.
"Sech Durhan deals with defence and organisation, I with food and care. And you, my noble warrior, should be resting.... unless you can help me here."
"Oh.... no. I can help you. Fascinating. Food supplies. Very.... important. Show me...."
Kats did, and together they managed the work almost as quickly as she would have if she had been alone. As it was, she did not really mind. She was glad of the company of the one warrior she had ever met she did not regard with fear.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval was still at work when the door to his chambers opened. He looked up, irritated at being distracted, his mind still filled with supply stations and medical facilities and defensive capabilities.
It was Deeron.
She walked in slowly, and looked at him with hard eyes. Then she looked at the Soul Hunters behind him. Her expression darkened. "I was told you would be here. I was told that you have not rested in days. I was told a great many things about you. I was told many things that I hoped were lies."
"And were they?" He kept his voice neutral.
"It does not seem so." There was a pause, both of them looking at each other. Sinoval then looked down at his notes again. The last time they had spoken had been in the Hall of the Grey Council, before the bombardment. Before that, they had spoken frequently, but only as commander and soldier. It had been many years since they had been anything more....
"You are not the only one who has heard things," Sinoval said carefully. "I have heard you have been working in Yedor, helping those you could. You have my thanks. Your service will not be forgotten."
"I have always served. We all have."
Sinoval sighed, and looked up. "Why are you here, Deeron? I had thought we had settled everything at our last meeting."
"I am here in the hope that you are not still here. You need to rest, and you need to sleep, and I.... I need to watch you."
Sinoval cocked his head. "You.... mean...?"
"When I watched you before, I.... saw.... something in your face. Power. Power, destiny, conviction, a determination to shake the galaxy. Everything that I saw then has come true now. I.... was afraid then. Afraid of who you were and what you could do. I am not afraid any longer. I have seen my home fall apart in flames and madness. I have seen our leadership corrupted from within and our people massacred by their own. I have fought and failed and watched good warriors give their lives.... and more.
"I am not afraid any more, Sinoval. I have seen.... many things.... all of which have changed my mind. If you will sleep, then I will watch, and I will not be afraid of what I see this time."
Sinoval rose to his feet and slowly walked to her side, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. She was sincere, and just for a moment he felt ten cycles younger, a vibrant, arrogant warrior seeking to make his mark upon the galaxy.
"I will sleep," he whispered.
"And I will watch," she replied. There was the faintest hint of a tear in her eye.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"The Chosen of Valen has spoken.... I see now.... Bless me, Valen, I see. The one I knew then, the one I know now.... A deception. A trick. Thank you, Valen. Now I see."
Kalain emerged from darkness, shuffling slowly. He could feel his bones grinding against one another. In truth, the pain had ceased to affect him now - what was pain to one who would have the destiny of ushering forward the saviour of Minbar? What was physical pain at any rate? No, the true pain was mental - that of realising that he had been wrong in his choice.
Sinoval was not the saviour - how else to explain his actions recently? No, there would be another - who, Kalain did not know, but he would be there when the saviour appeared. It was his destiny.
"The Chosen of Valen.... I see you...." Kalain had chosen life, chosen to be here to fulfill his destiny and bring about the salvation of Minbar. His work was as yet unfinished, and he could not die now with his work undone, just as he could not have died then.
"For.... the.... salvation...." Pain had been a trial, a means to test him, a chance to prove himself worthy. Deathwalker had become, inadvertently, an agent of Valen. Her attempts to use Kalain in malice had only resulted in taking him to his ultimate destiny.
"Salvation...." A true goal, and one within his reach. Very soon now.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He was asleep, his eyes closed. For the first time in years, Sinoval of the Wind Swords was truly at peace. Certainly for the first time since Deeron had known him.
The last time she had found herself in this position had been years before, not long after the destruction of the humans' homeworld. Then, she had been unable to endure beyond the first night. In his face as he slept, she had seen hints of a terrible.... destiny. A sure and certain conviction of his own power and place. Such passionate intensity had scared her, and she had refused to continue with the three nights. He had understood, and had left, from then on nothing more than her commander.
He had changed, or she had. Probably both of them had. In his face now, she saw not just the sense of affirmed destiny, but the realisation of that destiny fulfilled. For good or for ill, Sinoval was the ruler - and perhaps the saviour - of Minbar. His youthful convictions had been borne out by events, both under and beyond his control.
She sighed, looking around the room. It was empty. He had sent the Soul Hunters away. He had seemed surprised when she had requested it. Of course he would be; they had become as much a part of him over the months as his limbs and head. His awful pike was in the corner, where she had moved it out of his reach. She could not bear to be near it.
They were alone, and he was asleep. She would never again have an opportunity like this. She had been sceptical at first, but then she had.... seen.... the face of a Vorlon. It had revealed itself to her, and she had known the truth. Sinoval had disobeyed them, and in doing so, he had doomed Minbar.
"I do this not for them," she said softly, removing a long, thin object from her robe. "Not for the Vorlons, or the priestlings, or the workers." Before falling asleep he had drunk of the ceremonial potion. He would sleep as soundly as anyone ever had. Sinoval was by nature a light and suspicious sleeper. Without the depth of sleep afforded him by the potion, his true face would never be revealed.
And Deeron would never be able to kill him.
She unwrapped the long syringe. The poison within was instantaneous, a Vorlon concoction of some kind. Everyone who examined Sinoval's body would believe he died of natural causes. No science, not even that of the Soul Hunters, would be able to identify any trace of this agent in his body.
"I do this not for them, not for any of them, but for you. This way, at least your soul will be saved." She moved towards the bed.
"Forgive me, Holy One.
"Forgive me."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"It is.... not as I had envisaged it." G'Kar wished, not for the first time, that he was free and able to walk once more, able to feel the ground beneath his feet, able to breathe the air in his lungs, to touch the things his hands now merely brushed through. Some days he wondered if the sacrifice of four senses had been worth it.... but then he recalled the depths open to him through the Great Machine, and he accepted that the sacrifice was worthwhile.
"It is not quite finished yet, of course," Ta'Lon replied. He was here in the flesh, and so was free of all the actions G'Kar was not. Ta'Lon had been responsible for guiding this project towards completion. At first he had objected to this - determined to seek out his destiny on the front lines. As time passed, however, Ta'Lon's resolve for this mission grew, tempered obviously by Neroon's death. Working closely with Carn Mollari and with various others of the Army of Light, he had achieved the completion of the first stage of the project. As he said, it was not entirely finished yet, but it was now operational.
"Perhaps if we had been able to alter the plans a little," Ta'Lon continued. "The human specifications were not easy to follow at times...."
"No," G'Kar said firmly. "They were as.... was meant to be. The Great Machine had a copy of the blueprints. History, perhaps destiny, has declared that they are to be followed. We.... have done our best to do that."
Ta'Lon shrugged. "If you say so. Do you want to begin moving the centre of operations here?"
"Yes, as soon as possible." G'Kar looked around, feeling the weight of destiny pressing down upon him. A thousand years of history, and it would all begin here. "This.... is not quite as I envisaged."
"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, we have been building this for over a year. We have been putting almost all of our resources into this. I do not see why you are...."
"It is nothing. Just.... the weight of time."
Ta'Lon nodded. He did not understand many of G'Kar's actions, and he did not pretend to. "Have you thought of a name yet? 'The Project' lacks a certain style...."
"Style? Have you become a Centauri while I wasn't looking? And as for a name. Well.... there is a name. It's called Babylon Four."