Chapter 1

"ORDER and discipline are fine and noble goals. Lofty dreams. Ah, but you cannot have order without chaos, and some of us can see that. So what you need is ordered chaos. Our style of chaos, you might say.
"A war of our direction, and at our will. And by the time it is over, all the races will be ours, whether they know it or not."
Mr. Morden, a private observation.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Where am I?
My home. This is where you were aiming for, after all.
I don't feel any pain. I remember.... being wounded.
Pain.... is a transitory thing. All things are transitory in their own way, but the pain of the flesh most of all. The pain of the soul, however.... well, that can last a very long time indeed. You know that better than any, Delenn of Mir. Almost as well as I do.
You are the.... friend.... Ivanova spoke of.
I cannot say whether I am anyone's 'friend' or not, but yes, I am the one she spoke of. I have been trying to contact her for some time. I could sense her troubled soul, and I knew she would bring you here. I have been waiting for this meeting, or one like it. Waiting for.... a very long time.
Where is Ivanova? I.... don't see her.
She is sleeping. Without dreams. It has been a long time since she last did that. She will awaken soon enough, but she would not thank either of us for waking her now.
No, I do not think she would. It is strange.... I used to.... well, not hate her, but I knew she was the Enemy. She worked for them of her own free will. She tried to kill me, she tried to kill John. And yet all I can feel for her is pity. Can you explain that?
Indeed I can. You are learning. I might even suspect that was the reason you were sent here, if I did not know better.
Why was I sent here?
Who can say? The Vorlons sent you here to die. You sent yourself here so that another might live. The universe sent you here.... Who is either of us to question the will of the universe? We are both just children born of her, after all. Perhaps you were sent here to meet me.
And who are you?
That question again. I very much doubt anyone can answer that truly, not even you, for all your claims. I could give you any one of countless answers, but if I were to tell you my name is Lorien, and I am very old indeed.... would that satisfy you?
It might. I do not recognise your race, but there is something familiar. You do not look like a Soul Hunter, and yet there is something there....
No, I am not a Soul Hunter, although I do know of their breed. I see that Cathedral has returned to the doings of the younger races, and that the Well of Souls has spoken to mortal beings again.
Are the Soul Hunters themselves not mortal?
After a fashion.
Wait.... are you saying that the Soul Hunters were not meant to be a part of this? This was not their destiny?
What is destiny? You accept the concept as if the future were written out as plain as day, words on a page, engravings on a stone slab. I can see some of the things laid out before me, but not all. No, Delenn of Mir, I was not expecting the Soul Hunters to return to the doings of the younger races for another thousand years at least, but it seems I was wrong. I have heard the Well of Souls speak to young Primarch Sinoval. I have heard my children within the Well.... they are a part of me even now, you know. Primarch Sinoval.... he denies destiny, and he spurns his doom. He makes his own way. I cannot tell if he is walking a hero's path, or a fool's.
Your children...? You are a First One?
To an extent. I am the First One. The first living being spun out of the fabric of the universe, all those years ago. Time seems to have sped up recently. It moved so slowly back then.
You are immortal?
I am. We are all immortal, in our own ways.
What do you mean? Am I.... dead?
No. Your wounds would not have been fatal in any event. At least, not to you. I did what I could to repair them, little mother. A simple matter of the manipulation of energies.
Then what is to happen to me?
That.... is for you to decide. You were warned that you would have to make a choice, were you not?
Yes.... Yes.... the technomages.... they told me....
This is where you must choose.
Choose between what? I don't understand!
Not yet. You must see things first. You must revisit the past, and maybe even a glimpse of the future you think is written in stone.
Stones can be shattered.
Exactly. Come now.... look.... and learn....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He was not stopped at customs. In fact no one seemed to notice him as he breezed past the usual array of tourists, businessmen, soldiers, refugees and journalists. Why would anyone notice him, after all? He had not been particularly famous or renowned when he was alive. Oh, some small recognition in his chosen field, but it was a small and closed field at best.
And now, after his 'death', people had a tendency not to notice him. That had got him out of a fair number of predicaments, and even a cell or two.
Fortunately for Mr. Morden, people could see him sufficiently well for him to stop a taxi. He smiled at the driver and got inside. He had been away for quite a while, but some things never changed.
"Where to, sir?" asked the driver.
Sir? Morden was impressed, and made a mental note to give a bigger than usual tip. His associates could afford it, and respect like that deserved to be rewarded. "Sector One-one-one, the Edgars Building."
"Right you are, sir. Had you figured for a business type the instant I saw you, so I did. Just come in from offworld, huh? Been doing some business at Beta Durani, or out in the Vega system, perhaps?"
"A bit further than that, actually."
"Ah, with the aliens, eh? That musta been exciting. We get a few aliens through here. Narns, mostly, although not as many as we used to. Which is all for the good if you ask me. I mean, yeah, we've had some help from aliens in the past, but we shouldn't have to go grovelling to other races for a bit of help now, should we?"
"I guess not," he replied, faintly amused.
"Now that's what I like about these allies of ours. We don't have to grovel. They want to help us, and don't ask a single damned thing in return. They just want to help, they say. Hey, you been offworld a while. You won't have seen their flyby at New Year, will you?"
"No, I'm afraid I didn't."
"Hot damn, you really missed something, sir. That was impressive, seeing all those ships pass by overhead.... it sure was something. My Rosa.... that's the missus, twenty years the ball and chain, eh? Well, my Rosa said they creeped her out, and I sorta get what she meant, but they were still impressive. We've got nothing to fear from them anyway. They're our allies, right?"
"Looks can be deceiving."
"That's right, that's what I was telling her. Yeah, they do look a bit scary I guess, but they're just different from us. Just 'cause they look weird, that don't mean they ain't our friends."
"Exactly."
"So, you gonna be on Proxima long?"
"I'm not really sure. I've got some business to deal with, and then I might be heading out."
"Ah well, while you're here, if you get time you wanna go down to the cinema screens. They got a damned good one at Meadowhall Dome. Yeah, I know, you can get all the films at home with that virtual reality, surround sound rubbish, but you can't beat a good night out at the cinema, popcorn an' all. Anyway, last week, me and Rosa, we went down to see that new film Wandering Star. Damned good, it was. Starred that Barringer fellow. It'd get an Oscar or two, I reckon.... or at least it would, if they were still doing Oscars. A crying shame, that was. I mean, we need some field of achievement, don't we? No matter what you do, you need something to aim for, you need someone to reach out and grab the medal, the statue.... whatever."
"The field of human achievement," Morden said. "A never-ending struggle for self-improvement."
"That's it in a nutshell, sir. We need something to aim for. Reckon the Minbari took that from us, but we're getting it back. They started up the baseball again. You a baseball fan, sir?"
"I used to be. I haven't really had time to keep up with things recently."
"Ah. Well, if you're a betting man, I've put a couple of creds on the Swashbucklers. Proxima team. My cousin's in the team, you know. Well, third cousin a couple of times removed or something, but hey, family's family, right? People don't believe me when I tell them that, but it's true."
"I believe you."
"Well, thanks, sir. It's always nice to get a real gentleman in the cab. I mean, I had to change routes because all I ever got were the students at the Medical and Law Colleges down in Sector Two-four-five. Awful they were. Singing and capering around, and throwing up all the time. Well, I needed the money, mind, but I much prefer this route. It's nice to have someone to talk to who can say something serious. I mean, the kids o' today, they don't know what it was like all those years during the war. Here we are, just got things back on track after all that time of hard work, all that loss, and those kids act like they don't have to work for nothing any more. A lot of them don't know what it's like to go through all that, or if they did, they've forgotten. I mean, me and Rosa, our kids might be at university now.... if they were still alive, you know. The eldest one died at Orion, and our little girl.... well, she starved to death the following winter. Parents aren't meant to outlive their children, you know. There's something just.... wrong about it all. You got any children, sir?"
"No.... I.... I guess I just never met anyone I loved enough to have children with."
"Ah, you'll find someone, sir. I'm sure of it. One of them classy businesswomen types, I'm sure. Had one of them in the back of my cab.... Heh heh, just kidding. Little cabbie's humour. Well, you've got to laugh at some things, don't you? If you don't laugh, you cry, ain't that the truth?"
"Oh, undoubtedly."
"Well, here we are, sir. Edgars Building, just like you asked." The taxi came to a halt. "It's been a real pleasure driving you, sir, you know that. You're not like most of these types I get."
"Thank you," Morden said, genuinely pleased. He handed over his credit chit. "Take an extra ten percent. Take the wife out for a meal or something."
"Why, thanks, sir. Real generous of you, sir. If you ever need another ride anywhere, just give me a call. Pleasure taking you anywhere. There's my card and everything. Good luck with your business, sir."
"Thank you," he said, taking back the card and stepping out of the taxi. The Edgars Building, headquarters of Interplanetary Expeditions. He sighed, and began to trot up the steps to the front door. He wondered if the old man himself would be in.
He began to whistle to himself. It was good to be home.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval took slow, deep breaths, trying to remember all the meditative techniques he had learned in his youth from Sech Durhan. There had been times he had derided meditation as a priestling excuse to sit down for a while and not do any work, but now he understood the need for a mental and emotional equilibrium, a chance to calm and quieten himself, to soothe his soul and ready himself for the rigours ahead.
Unfortunately, while priestlings were very good at meditating in quiet places, a warrior used different techniques, concentrating on his weapon and the motions and passions of combat; the knowledge that he would be required to give his life for his people, to defend them to his last breath, past the exhaustion of his flesh....
Warrior caste meditation required his weapon, and these days Stormbringer did not bring much aid in that regard. The Well of Souls might be more helpful, but after his last journey there, he had been uncomfortable. He could feel the winds of fate and the future rising up before him, rushing into a hurricane. He would soon be standing in its eye.
He did not believe in fate, or destiny. Such things were shaped by the will and actions of mortal beings. There was nothing written that had to come to pass, no true prophecies of the future, nothing that could not be changed.
An aide came up to him. A Brakiri. "The Council is ready to see you now," she said. She did not seem visibly intimidated by him, which made him smile. It was good to see courage in his allies.
He had been on Kazomi 7 for some days now, making deals, visiting the dignitaries one by one, ascertaining their allegiances, their beliefs. He had spoken to Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar and Emperor Londo Mollari, and to members of G'Kar's Rangers who more than lived up to their Minbari antecedents. He had held meetings with Minister Lethke, and Taan Churok, and Ambassador G'Kael. He had gone to seek counsel from the technomage Vejar, and issued a warning to the Vorlon Ambassador Ulkesh.
Now he was ready to meet the Council as a whole, to present to them his information about the true reasons for Delenn's disappearance. He would expose the Vorlons for what they were and win over the support of the Alliance, becoming their leader in the war against both Shadow and Vorlon, and against any and all who would seek to oppose them.
He walked forward into the room. The Council was indeed waiting for him. Those who had been here when the Alliance had been formed, visiting dignitaries such as the Centauri Emperor, Ambassadors from foreign powers. There were five spaces empty.
One, at the head of the table, was for Delenn herself. Sinoval looked at the empty chair and felt a resurgence of the great anger he had experienced when receiving her message. Hopefully Sheridan would return with her, both of them back safe.
The second empty space was obviously Sheridan's, or that of his second. There was a human sitting beside it, one Sinoval did not recognise. He looked ill-at-ease, and paled before Sinoval's gaze. A nonentity.
The third belonged to the other Drazi representative on the Council - Vizhak. He had been away for some weeks, visiting the Drazi homeworld on diplomatic business. He was expected back soon.
Vejar was not here. He had rarely been seen in public since the Vorlon had arrived, for reasons known only to himself. He had made it clear to Sinoval that he would not come to this meeting. They had spoken some days ago, and had shared mystical and unclear premonitions of the future.
And there was also a large Vorlon-shaped hole in the corner of the room. Ulkesh was not here. Sinoval was not surprised, but he did wonder what the Vorlon was planning. Whatever it was, it would not be enough.
He walked to the head of the room and turned to face the Council. Then he began to speak.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

You remember this, don't you?
<sadly> I.... I remember.
You were angry. Filled with a great and terrible rage. One you loved dearly had died in your arms, the victim of an unprovoked and savage attack. You did not stop to think.... There was no time for thought. All those meditation rituals he had taught you, everything you knew about how to control your emotions, your rage.... all forgotten, all lost.
<greater sadness> I remember.
And so you condemned a world and a people. An entire race of sentient beings, children of the universe, just like you and me.
<sadness faded, replaced by anger> I remember! How often must I relive this? How many times...? Haven't I paid enough by now? Haven't we all paid enough? It was a mistake! It was a terrible mistake.... Just how.... when will I be forgiven? <sorrow>
Ah, but who can forgive you? Not I, certainly. I have seen the karmic wheel turn, and spin, and revolve. You took their world, and they took yours. You destroyed their hopes and dreams, and they found new ones in the destruction of all that you are. You have suffered greatly, more than any sentient being could and still survive, I feel. And yet I feel there is more suffering ahead.
I'm sorry. I've been sorry for that day for the last fifteen years.... but when.... when will we have paid?
Payment? Ah, but for what? For destroying their homeworld and killing so many billions? Well, they ruined your world and killed so many of your people. Perhaps the scales are balanced now. How many of them did you kill? How many of you did they kill? A matter of numbers, I suppose it comes down to.
That's not what I meant.
<softer> No. I know. For your decision taken in great wrath, for the destruction of their world.... If the universe decrees you have suffered enough, then so be it. Certainly there is great wisdom in forgiving, and looking to the future rather than remaining fixated on the past. Ah.... but you have done more than that, more than just destroy their past.
What? What do you mean?
You have destroyed their future as well. And to save it.... perhaps you will have to sacrifice yours.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"So," said the old man as his visitor stepped inside the office. "How was Centauri Prime?"
"A little disordered," said Morden. "But that's normal for the time of year."
The old man smiled. "It's good to have you back here. It's just not the same without anyone to talk to. Oh, there's Zento of course, but he's too busy running the public side of the place, making sure we get all the funds and influence we need to.... to do the real work. I don't think he really believes, anyway. It's a game to him. The money's just a way of keeping score." The old man shook his head sadly. "No, he doesn't see the.... the true cause behind this. He doesn't understand."
"How many people ever do?" asked Morden. "How many people even want to?"
"Right as ever, my friend. I'm sorry. I must be depressing you. Here, do you want some orange juice? They've tried growing some oranges in the farming zones outside the Fourth Dome. I fear they haven't quite perfected the process yet, but they're getting there. Slowly. It still costs a fortune, of course."
"No, thank you. I'm afraid my stomach is still full from all that brivare they stuffed down my throat on Centauri Prime." Morden made a face. "Absolutely revolting stuff. I don't know how they stomach it."
"Just one of the many hardships we have to suffer in the name of our great cause."
"True enough, and I suppose compared to their cells and their politicking it wasn't so much of a burden."
The old man sat down, and Morden sat opposite him. He was cradling a glass of orange juice, and making wistful smiles as he sipped at it. "So, just how was Centauri Prime? Did the Emperor accept our offer?"
"No. He's come down with a bad case of social conscience. The.... troubles we found out about in the middle of last year were more severe than we'd guessed. Things are quite bad there. Improving now of course, but still problematic. I thought that the Emperor would be willing to agree to anything that would help him, but.... it seems I underestimated him. I won't do that again."
"He drove a hard bargain?"
"Worse than that. He flat out refused to commit to anything that might beggar his people in the long run. A very canny man. I actually sort of like him."
"And what about.... them?"
"Ah." Morden's easy tone evaporated. "Not so good. Someone at the Court has been in negotiation with them. I can make an educated guess, but there's no solid evidence, just circumstantial. I'm convinced Mollari doesn't know a thing about it. After all he's seen, there's no way he'd make a deal with them, especially if he turned down an alliance with us.
"No, I'm inclined to think someone's either trying to gain a little personal power in the new system, or that they're genuinely trying to save the people, and don't want the Emperor's conscience getting in the way. A.... fairly sizeable fleet of Shadow ships came to defend Centauri Prime when the Narns attacked. Shortly afterwards I was arrested and imprisoned."
"How were the cells there?"
Morden flashed a smile. "A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Fortunately, we do have a friend in the Court. He got me out, and.... well, everyone else just had a great deal of problems seeing me."
"What about the seeresses? How many are still alive?"
"Of any real power.... I'm betting on none, although one or two might have escaped. The troubles last year were marked by an extreme psionic backlash across the whole planet. The seeresses and telepaths fell apart completely, and those with the strength to endure the turmoil were soon murdered in the rioting." The old man swore. "My sentiments exactly. I knew the Enemy was trying to stamp them out after Lady Morella's.... death, but I was in no way expecting them to be able to swamp the whole planet."
"It spread chaos, and lots of it. They've always been partial to that."
"Indeed. It also pushed the Centauri closer to an alliance with them. I wouldn't be surprised if they were expecting someone more like Cartagia to take over. He'd have been quite happy to make a permanent deal with them. As it turns out however, he was too clever for their own good, and they're stuck with Mollari."
"How many of their.... devices are on the planet?"
"No way of telling. I managed to locate the first creature when I was there a few years ago, back when Lady Morella was killed. Some of the nobles there had been only too happy to open negotiations with a new trading race. It was the Vree, by the way, I found that out. Some of their merchant caste had made a deal with the Enemy via the Drakh. Anyway, the Vree merchants sold on the psionic devices to the nobles, telling them that they would prevent telepathic scans of their estates. As you can imagine, they were bought up by the barrel-load. When they were ready the Shadows activated them, and people all over the planet started to go mad."
"One of the same devices that killed Lady Morella?"
"Well, one of the things that encouraged her maid to do it, and then to kill herself afterwards. Lady Morella was a bit too powerful and too well connected for their liking, I suspect. After I found and destroyed the device, things calmed down. And then of course I was suspected of murdering Morella and thought it prudent to be away from Centauri Prime for a while.
"While I was gone, they must have kept dropping the devices all over the place. One of the more nastier elements of their biotechnology. Alive, sentient and psionically very powerful. The Enemy turned them all on at once, and the entire planet fell apart. Things are quieter now. I'm not sure if the devices were found and destroyed, or if they've got what they wanted with the whole thing and are happy to stop frying everything on Centauri Prime.
"Still, I'll say one thing for the place though," he added with a smile. "Primarch Sinoval was a very long way away."
"Him again. Oh yes, we are going to have to do something about him."
"It's just a matter of direction, surely? He's not allied with us, and he certainly isn't allied with them. Set him after the Enemy, and then we can sit back and watch the fur fly. He's arrogant enough to think he can storm the gates of Z'ha'dum by himself, and maybe lucky enough to do it as well."
"And that, no doubt, is exactly what the Enemy will be planning."
"He's a direct sort of person," Morden said, musing for a moment. "One of the reasons he dislikes our side is that he can't stand what he perceives as our manipulation of his people, his to rule. Given that we've written them all off as a bad job, if we just ducked low and stayed out of his way for a while, he's more likely to focus his efforts on Sonovar and the Enemy."
"That is not too likely, I am afraid. He was confirmed as being on Kazomi Seven this week."
"Ah.... That's not good."
"I think you might be overestimating his abilities."
"I've met him. Trust me on this. He may not have the power to destroy everything we've built, but he thinks he has, and he's certainly willing to try. Just how likely is he to stumble over our activities there?"
"You've met him. You tell me."
Morden moaned. "Is there anywhere we can count on? I have this vision of everything falling apart."
"Well.... something's going according to plan anyway. We finished the construction here last month."
"Ah." Morden smiled. "That is good news. Can I see it?"
"Certainly. Come right this way."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"I come here.... in a spirit of alliance and co-operation. That is after all the meaning of this place, is it not? Different races allied together for mutual advantage, a shelter together from the raging storms that crash and wail in the galaxy outside us.
"But no matter how we try to hide from it, the storm will find us out in the end. No shelter can last forever, no wall can endure an onslaught indefinitely. The storm will come here.
"No doubt you will try to fight it. I will try to fight it. We might even do so together. What will it cost us to win? What has it cost us so far? Minbar? The Great Machine? Babylon Four?
"Delenn...?
"But what if we win? Victory is not impossible, not at all. We managed it a thousand years ago, and we can manage it now. So we win, and we return to our homes, to our shelters and our walls....
"And the greater Enemy arises. The storm that builds slowly within our walls, the storm that waits for the winds outside to die down before destroying everything within."
"I assume you are speaking of the Vorlons, Primarch Sinoval?"
Sinoval turned his gaze to Minister Lethke, who had spoken. The Brakiri had a reputation for considerable shrewdness and political acumen. Sinoval had certainly seen that when they had met a few days ago. He had told Lethke a little more than he had told the others, although not as much as Mollari or G'Kar.
"I am indeed."
"The Vorlons are our allies," said Lethke. "They have offered us their assistance against the Shadows."
"For their own purposes. You, I.... everyone, we are caught in the middle of a conflict between Vorlon and Shadow. What does it matter if we defeat the one, only to be enslaved by the other?"
"You may well be right, Primarch," spoke up a soft voice, and Sinoval looked at Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. He had been notably inconspicuous since he and Mollari had visited the Well of Souls. This was the first time they had been in the same room since.
"It is certainly possible the Vorlons are but using us in their war with the Shadows. Certainly, some of their behaviour has been.... erratic, not to mention questionable." Sinoval knew what he was referring to. G'Kar knew the truth, as did he and Mollari and as the technomage. Delenn had gone to Z'ha'dum, not abducted by a Shadow agent as many chose to believe, but at the order of the Vorlons.
"However, we cannot win this war without their aid. We have tried, and we have done.... better than I dared dream. Our very presence here is proof enough that we have achieved some triumphs.
"But I have seen the fleets of the Enemy. I was a part of the Great Machine for over two years, and all its vast power was mine. The Machine could not hold against the forces of the Enemy. If all that ancient, wondrous technology fell.... then how can we be expected to win without the aid of the Vorlons?"
"We have Cathedral."
"Soul Hunters," said Taan Churok. "You ask us to trust takers of souls over Vorlons? You ask us to believe in those who deny the warriors their paths to Droshalla's kingdom?"
"The Soul Hunters do not imprison anything or anyone. I have made a bargain with them, on terms both of us have agreed to. They mean you no harm, not now, not while I live, and not after I am gone."
"Certain of that, are you?"
"It does not matter who can be trusted more," spoke up G'Kar. "I have.... thought greatly on what you said at our last meeting, Primarch Sinoval, and on what I saw.... We need the Vorlons. Without them we will all be dead, if not today then tomorrow. Surely their price is not.... not too high a price to pay for our lives."
"And if it is?"
"If it is, then we will deal with that later.... when the time comes. But for this moment, for this instant, we need them."
"I think the Primarch.... may have some wisdom," spoke up Londo suddenly. Sinoval looked at the Centauri Emperor. His initial assessment had been proved wrong, and he had been forced to re-evaluate it. There was hidden strength within the man, and a greater wisdom than was readily apparent. However, he would always put the needs of his people first. A fine and laudable aim.... but it would end up crippling everything all of them fought for.
"I turned down an alliance with the Vorlons, because their.... representative did not offer as much as he seemed to. I was wary about becoming involved in this war, and I still am. Shadow and Vorlon, elder races all.... let them fight. Why can we not pull back and leave them to it, and say good riddance to both of them? Let us work together to create peace, not a furtherance of bloody war."
"Centauri cowardice," muttered Taan Churok under his breath.
"You know me," replied Mollari angrily. "I was here, on this planet. I saw the suffering the Drakh caused to the people here. I lived through it every bit as much as you did! Do not call me a coward.
"Yes, I have seen the evil of the Drakh, but they are gone now, their fleet destroyed, yes? So it was I heard. Why do we fight against their masters? We have built a peace from the Drakh invasion. Can we not be satisfied with that, and work on?"
"No," said Sinoval. "I wish we could, but neither Shadow nor Vorlon will leave us alone. They war, not with fleets or weapons or soldiers as we do, but through us. They toy with us, directing us to wars, manipulating us to conflicts, to alliances, to chains we cannot throw off until it is too late.
"We must be rid of them both.
"I have something to show you all.... Something to prove that I mean what I say." He gently laid the holographic projector on the table in front of him. He did not want to do this. He did not want to relive Delenn's last message one more time, to look at the face of her compassion and her courage and her self-sacrifice.
But he had to.
"No!" said a voice. "You mean nothing of what you say."
It was Vizhak. He stormed into the room, his face in a black fury. "I hear you come here. I hear you come here to talk of peace. I hear these things while on homeworld.
"And while on homeworld, I hear of Drazi ships attacked. Drazi merchant ships attacked. Carrying food and medicine for wounded Drazi soldiers.
"Drazi ships attacked by Minbari ships."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Why did you come here?
You know why.
Humour an old, old man. Why did you come here?
That was the price the Vorlons demanded of me to save John. I had to come here in payment for them curing him. I.... hoped to do as much damage here as I could before I died, but.... the technomages betrayed me. You know all this, surely.
Yes, I do. But that was not the question I asked. I know you came here to save another, but why?
Why? How can you ask that? I love him!
Is it truly love? Or merely guilt? Remember his wife, dead all these years. Remember his world, his friends.
I love him!
A true love?
Yes!
Such that you would give your life for his?
Yes! I came here. Surely that proves as much?
It was not guilt, then? Not a means of compensation for everything you have done to him and his people?
....
Ah. Silence. Have you ever thought about that?
Yes. I have.... wondered.... Sometimes. I do love him. I do.
But were you willing to give your life for his out of this love, or because of your sense of guilt?
I love him.... but.... these times need him more than me. Kazomi Seven needs a warrior now, not a healer. I am not a warrior. John is.
And when the war is over, if it ever can be over.... When you win, what then? Who will be left to heal the wounds of the war?
But without the warriors, we will never win. I have thought of all this.
Perhaps. What of Neroon?
He is dead, isn't he?
Yes.
Could you save him?
I cannot create life. Only the universe can do that, but yes.... I suppose I could save him, extend his life for a brief period, repair damage and heal wounds, but he would not thank either of us if I did. His doom was set, you know.
You said nothing was written in stone.
Nothing is. Nothing is inevitable, but I have seen his soul, his pattern. He would die sooner or later. All beings do. This is the way he would have wished to die, a true warrior's death, defending his true love.
He still loved me, then?
He did.
And he died because of me. Another one.
Another death at your door? I suppose so. All beings die eventually.
Except you.
Ah. True, but then, just as all beings die, so are all beings immortal. Neroon's soul has returned to the universe, gone back to the weave to be threaded and given form once more. Mortal beings gain immortality through their children, or through their rebirth. I am immortal simply because I am not yet dead. My people.... are not reborn, as yours are.
Why not?
A sacrifice we made long ago. A necessary one. I am the last of my people, the last one left. I chose to remain here, to observe and to wait.
To wait? For me?
For someone. For a meeting. This meeting. Soon I will be able to rest. But there are some things that must be done first.
What things?
Ah.... that very much depends on you.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Ow!"
"Oh, don't be such a baby."
"Are you deliberately trying to cause me the maximum amount of pain possible?"
"Trust me, you'd know if I was."
Dexter Smith was used to pain, or so he thought. In his childhood he had been shot at, stabbed, punched, pushed off things and pushed on to things. In his adult life he had been pushed to the limits of endurance in his training in Earthforce and in his time as a soldier and captain. And more recently he had been stabbed and punched in a particularly unpleasant fight with a group of thugs.
But none of that compared to the tender loving care of his companion.
"How come you never got hurt anyway?" he asked.
"Maybe they didn't want to hurt a lady?" Talia said with a smile. "Or maybe they underestimated me. People tend to do that around me, I can't think why."
"I never will. Ow!"
"Oh, stop it. I think that was a compliment, was it?"
"Not as such. I learned not to underestimate you a long time ago. If you remember, it was right after you hid on my ship for six months right under my nose and then blew up a huge chunk of it."
"Oh, yes. That."
"Yes. That."
There was an awkward pause, as she resumed bandaging his cut arm. He wasn't sure just how deep the wound was, but the whole area was numb and he had problems flexing the muscles there. There had been a fair amount of blood as well. And, given that the two of them could not go anywhere near a hospital, this limited amount of care was the best he could hope for.
"It.... it wasn't anything personal, you know," she said finally. "It wasn't anything against you, or your ship. I just had to slow things down. I had to give Al enough time to get things going elsewhere. I didn't...." She paused. "I mean, I thought you were a good captain."
"Actually," he said softly. "I meant to thank you. I was angry as hell at the time, but now.... Having looked back on that.... Thank you. You kept me away from Minbar. I.... wouldn't have liked to have.... been there. Not according to what I heard, anyway."
She sat back on her heels, looking at him closely. "They were our enemies," she said. "Well, your enemies, anyway."
"I hadn't met any before. Well, I've only met one now, but.... Does it make it right, us doing to them what they did to us? Doesn't it just make us as bad as they were?"
She shrugged. "There are some things you have to do."
"Yes, I get that. I mean, safeguard our worlds and our families, fine. Destroy their military capabilities, no problem. Even capture their rulers and put them on trial.... that's all okay. But ruining their homeworld.... poisoning the atmosphere, the oceans, the ground? The whole thing just seems.... an act of spite. Childish spite. You know.... you broke my toy, so I'll break yours."
"Earth was a little more than a toy."
"I guess. I've never actually been there. I was born here on Proxima."
"I.... I don't think I've been to Earth. Maybe when I was a little girl. My earliest memories are of the Psi Corps training base on Mars. That was one of the main bases, not the subsidiary ones. That was my home almost all my life. All my friends were there."
"I'm.... sorry."
"Don't be. Al got out everyone he could. Unlike the.... mundanes, we had somewhere to go. He took us all to Sanctuary. I wasn't much more than a teenager at the time. I remember all the chaos, all the people running around desperately trying to pack things and get everything sorted out. It's funny, but I left my diary behind, and I was so filled with panic that someone would find it and read it." Smith looked at her, and she chuckled. "What?"
"I'm trying to imagine what could have been in your diary when you were a teenager."
"None of your business!" she laughed. "Didn't you keep a diary?"
"Not around here, I didn't. I don't know, I always thought a diary was a place to.... you know, write down all the things you dreamed of doing, and then looking back when you're a grown-up and realising just how little you managed. I knew I wouldn't manage anything, so what was the point of writing down things that would never come true?"
"Pessimistic," she noted.
"Life in the Pit was like that."
"Even when you found out you were.... one of us."
"A telepath, you mean?" She nodded, and he sighed. "Talia, I get hunches from time to time, and.... vague ideas of what someone's feeling. I can't read minds, I can't do scans, and I can't talk mind to mind. I'm not a telepath."
"You have our genes. You are one of us, whatever you think."
He sighed, and shook his head. "How are you doing anyway? Have the sleepers worn off yet?"
She made a face. "Not yet. Another few hours, I think. It's.... weird. It's like.... having lived all your life in a place with loud music coming from the next room, and the music has suddenly stopped dead. I've got so used to being able to tell what someone's thinking, and now.... I know they'll come back, and I know there's more to me than just my powers, but still.... It's.... difficult."
"So, you can tell what people are thinking?" He looked worried.
"Most of the time. Strong emotions, mainly."
"Then, you could tell some things I've.... been thinking?"
"Some of the time. I'll teach you how to block your thoughts, if you like. It doesn't take too much skill or power."
"That would be.... helpful."
"For both of us. Some of your thoughts.... really shouldn't be directed in the presence of a lady."
"Let me know where one is, and I'll take that advice." She headed back to his arm, and continued bandaging. "That was a joke. You do know that was a.... Ow!"
"Sorry. My hand slipped."
"I'll bet. Ouch!"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The skies above Kazomi 7 shimmered, and a jump point opened.
"Home at last," said the voice of the Babylon's second in command. Despite the cheeriness of his words, he was feeling anything but happy. Nothing about this mission had gone right. Not a thing. They had gone to Z'ha'dum to rescue Delenn, only to learn that she was dead. How the Captain had known this he was not sure, but Delenn was gone now.
On top of that, the Babylon's telepath Lyta Alexander was in a coma. The doctor was unable to identify what was wrong with her, other than some symptoms of exhaustion.
And as if that weren't enough, the Captain had not said a single word since they had entered hyperspace at Z'ha'dum. He merely sat in his chair on the bridge, not eating, not sleeping, doing nothing but sit and brood the whole journey back.
And now that they were back, Corwin's bad feeling was worsening.
"Captain.... Commander," said the helm tech, Guerra. "Um.... There's something here, in orbit around the planet. The instruments don't seem to recognise it. Not a ship, but...."
"What is it?" asked Corwin. The Captain did not seem to react.
"No, we have got it on record. The Morningstar sent the details over after the Battle of Minbar. It's the Soul Hunter base. It's called...."
"Cathedral," muttered Corwin. He breathed out slowly, unsure whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing.
Or a very very bad thing.
"Cathedral," said the Captain suddenly, his eyes glinting. "Well, well." He sat forward. "So, Primarch Sinoval's come for a visit.
"Won't this be interesting?"