From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Between the Candle and the Star, part 1A, Date: Mon, 8 Jun 1998 20:16:46 +0100 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase 2 - The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams Chapter Eight - Between the Candle and the Star Part 1A of 2 by Gareth Williams, lwa97gdw@sheffield.ac.uk Hi people. This is the last installment in Phase 2 of my parallel universe saga where the Minbari did not surrender at the Battle of the Line and went on to conquer and destroy Earth. It began with 'A Dark, Distorted Mirror', and all the previous stories should be present in the archive. If you're really lost, a listing and synopsis of the parts of Phase 1 is archived as 'What Has Gone Before', and I might even get round to adding a synopsis of Phase 2 sometime soon. This story is a spoiler for 'Moments of Transition'. Feedback is always very welcome and should be sent to the address below. Comments, questions, criticisms, brickbats, bouquets, virtual letter-bombs, all welcome... Legal Disclaimer: B5 and all related characters are owned by and copy- right of jms and/or Warner Bros. I am making no money out of writing this and am doing so purely for pleasure. Personal Disclaimer: Ah... well. You should know the score by now. You never know, I might be nice to the characters for a while... Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase Two - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Chapter Eight - Between the Candle and the Star Part 1 of 2 by Gareth Williams (lwa97gdw@Sheffield.ac.uk) "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 farther. 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 Derhan 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 can- not 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 retreat- ed. 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 Derhan 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 Star- killer 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 every- thing 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 compos- ure. "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 tor- ture, 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 safe- guard 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 Derhan, 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 per cent contagious, and one hundred per cent 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 Derhan fears is driving herself too hard." "Sech Derhan 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 Derhan 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. From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Between the Candle and the Star, Part 1B Date: Mon, 8 Jun 1998 20:20:13 +0100 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase Two - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Chapter 7 - Between the Candle and the Star, Part 1B of 2 by Gareth Williams, lwa97gdw@sheffield.ac.uk 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 care- fully. "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, inadvert- ently, 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." To be continued... From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Between The Candle and the Star, Part 2A Date: Thu, 11 Jun 1998 18:29:47 +0100 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase Two - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Chapter Eight - Between the Candle and the Star Part 2 of 2 by Gareth Williams (lwa97gdw@Sheffield.ac.uk) Kats' first thought on returning to Minbar was that she had stepped into a nightmare. Surely, she thought, surely this could not be real. But it was. All too real. The sky was dull and grey, far from the brilliant blue she remembered. Dark clouds hung overhead, looming over her. She thought some of them resembled hands, reaching across the sky, taking the gift of light away from the Minbari. The air burned her throat and her eyes began to sting. The ground... she stopped looking. No matter what she had heard, the reality was worse. Nothing could be as bad as what she saw now. She preferred not to look, concentrating instead on what had brought her here. She would not have come if she had not been forced to. Even then, no matter how powerful the compunction, she would still not have returned, were it not for one thing: Sinoval. She owed him. Her life, her sanity, more... Yes, Kozorr had tried to aid her when no one else would, but it was Sinoval's return that had freed her from Kalain's tor- ture. She had sworn fealty to Sinoval, and that was an oath she had intended to honour. Most of the survivors of her caste had managed to escape from Minbar before... this. Some however had remained. Out of stubbornness, fear, despair, resignation... many reasons. Now that the immediate danger was over, they were congregating in Yedor, as were representatives from the other two castes as well. Yedor, they said, was the site of a miracle. The Temple of Varenni had stood untouched throughout the bombing. A sign of Valen's favour, surely. Yedor was now filled with more than it could have coped with even in its prime. Now... Kats had heard the death toll was in its thousands. Starvation, disease... even murder. Some of the warrior and religious castes had resumed the hunting of the workers. Some of the workers were seeking to fight back. It was a volatile situation. Sinoval was busy doing what he could, and so Kats had come, to do what she could for her caste, and for the man to whom she had pledged her life. Slowly she began walking through Yedor's devastated streets, and with each step she thought her heart would explode in her chest. She was thankful she had not tried to go to Tuzanor. Apparently it did not even exist any more, consumed by the earth around it. Each step brought a new sign of horror to her awareness. A priest lying slumped against a ruined house, large swellings bursting over his face. He was whimpering and twitching. The skin on his arms was red and raw, scratched away. Bodies scattered everywhere, still where they had fallen days ago. Children crying, the sound of prayer, the moaning of the dying. "Worker!" barked a voice, and Kats turned. A warrior was standing just in front of her, leaning heavily against what had once been a house. His clothes were in rags and his skin bore the same inflammations as she had seen on many others. He staggered forward, lifting a fighting pike. "Your... fault. All... your fault! You..." He lurched towards her and swung his pike in a clumsy blow. Kats darted forward, sudden terror lending fury to her movements. Without thinking, she tore the pike away from his weak grip and struck him with it. He slumped to the ground, sobbing noisily. Kats looked at him and then at the pike in her hands. With an angry cry that was part-pain part-sorrow she dropped the weapon. She was breathing fast, and for a moment - just a moment - she had seen Kalain standing there. She turned hurriedly and saw the Temple of Varenni over the mass of ruins. It was nearby. Kats had not known Yedor well anyway, but the damage made it nearly impossible to navigate her way to her destination. She was almost there when the clouds above her burst open with a heavy rumble. The first she was aware of the rain was when something burned through her robe to touch the skin of her shoulder. A sudden heat struck her and she stood stock still, bathed in the light of memory, feeling the entire air around her burn with an unholy fire, hearing again her screams and his laughter and unsure which one she hated most. The next drop of fiery rain on her skin awoke her and she began to run, always keeping the Temple in mind as her destination. She ran fran- tically, unable to stop, knowing that to do so would bring back the sound of her screams and of his laughter. She did not know how long she had been running when she realised she had reached the Temple. The door was open and she fell inside, almost tripping over those lying helplessly in the doorway. Only then did she allow herself a moment to stop and breathe and close her eyes and remind herself where she was. And why she was here. Composure regained, she looked around, and was horrified at what she saw. The Temple was a big building, built around the far older structure of the Starfire Wheel. It was here that Valen had announced his intent- ions to Minbar, defeating an assault by the false prophet... one of the warriors, Kats forgot his name. As such this was a holy place, somewhat forgotten in the years before the war, but now one of the most significant places on Minbar. It was filled with people, the dead and the dying. Members of all three castes huddled around, seeking solace and comfort. Some members of the religious caste were trying to preach, but no one was listening. Kats looked around, desperately seeking someone she knew. This could not continue. This would not continue. As she wandered through the temple, she looked and saw the pitiful, the forgotten and the belligerent. The warrior caste had occupied the centre of the Temple - the Starfire Wheel itself - and were refusing to allow access to anyone else. The religious caste were berating everyone they saw, claiming that Valen had sent the death from above in punishment for their sins, and that he would return when the sinful had been purged. Kats shivered as she heard that. At last she found someone she recognised. Lurna, daughter of the former worker Satai, Durlan. Kats had known Durlan a little. He had been... a good man, if a little formal. He had been wounded at the Battle of Mars and had died a few years later. It was just as well. Kats shuddered to think what he would have said if he could have seen this. "Kats," Lurna breathed as she saw her. "Valen's Name... We thought... hah... we thought the warriors had killed you months ago. What... what are you doing here?" Kats looked at her. Standing in the middle of a group of workers, some pleading for water, some glancing around angrily. Some were even making some effort to fortify this wing of the Temple. "I... was captured," she said carefully. "I was taken before the Grey Council." "There is no Grey Council," Lurna said scornfully. "It ended when they murdered Hedronn." "Sinoval rules now. He is above us now, doing what he can. He..." "What do we care who rules above us? Warrior or priestling, it is always we who suffer. The warriors tried to destroy us and the priest- lings accused us of being heretics. The old ways are over, Kats. We will take Minbar for our own now. Ah... I am glad to see you here. Our caste will recognise you. If you can speak to a few of them. Some of them are not listening... Some of them do not believe that it is our time now. They..." "I will speak to them," Kats said firmly. "After I have spoken to you." She paused, and then shook her head sadly. "What are you doing, Lurna? We are not the warriors, we are not the religious caste. We do not care who rules, that is true, but we do not care because it is our duty to serve. Do you remember that? We... They fight, they pray, we build! Why are we not building?" "They are killing us! They... We are dying, dying from the rain, from the air we breathe, from our own people. We..." Kats suddenly grabbed hold of Lurna's robes and pushed her against the wall. She was surprised at the emotions surging inside her mind, but she did not care. "There are the dying, and the dead outside. No one has cared to bury the dead, no one has cared to clear away the debris, no one has cared to begin rebuilding. If we do not care, then who will?" "Let the warriors do it! You said they rule now." "NO! We will do it. We serve, we build. Sinoval has promised me that no more of our caste will be hunted and killed, and I believe him. He has done much for us, saving our caste ahead of his own in the evacu- ation. We can do no less for him. "They fight, they pray, we build. So, we will build." Lurna seemed to shrink. "You... will... have to talk to... some of the others." Kats released her hold on Lurna's robes. "I will talk to them. And then we will build. Together?" Lurna nodded. "Y... yes," she whispered. "Together." ---------- *Death... I can feel it... I can sense it... I can taste it... Dull, muffled, terrified... The deep blue of pain... Closer now... The trans- ition... I can see it, rising, shining... The long exhalation of the spirit...* The Soul Hunter looked at his brother and knew that he felt it as well. The moment they had been waiting for had arrived - earlier than expected, yes, but surely that was all for the better. The glory to be had for the one who took this catch... it would be inestimable. And they were on the wrong side of the door. For only the second time since the bargain had been made the Primarch was alone, without one of the Order to safeguard his soul, without a chance to save it. Should the soul be lost... The Soul Hunter pressed at the door, but it would not open. In a rage he drew his weapon and began battering at it. His brother followed suit, and they began to pound at the door separating them from their glory. The door gave way and they both charged in. The Soul Hunter was gratified to see that he was ahead of his brother. Death was closer now, much closer. The soul was rising. There was still time. It would be quick, yes, hasty, but still... The Soul Hunter took in the scene in an instant and bowed his head so as not to let the Primarch see the disappointment in his eyes. The Prim- arch was still alive, kneeling on the floor, cradling the body of a woman whose soul was even now soaring free, lost in the ether. The Soul Hunter contemplated trying to seize it anyway, but then he saw the Primarch moving and he snapped to attention. "Follow me," ordered the Primarch, and the Soul Hunter knew that this one death was not all there was to be this day. ---------- "John... John!" John Sheridan at last seemed to recognise her presence and turned to face her. Delenn knew how she must look. After... the conversation with Sinoval... the things he had said, she had returned to her work with renewed vigour. John had done likewise, neither of them willing to accept what they had been told. Now, Delenn was. She wanted to discuss this, to confront the matter, to... to... do something. Just something. Each of them worked in different ways. Delenn had returned to co- ordinating the shipments of food and medicine, while John had continued patrol duties, finishing the repairs on the jump gate and on the communi- cation satellites. She had finally found John in the ready room on the Parmenion. The shuttle journey here had been... hard. Looking at her home as she soared up into the skies. Seeing Minbar... broken... Commander Corwin was with him. He stood up as Delenn entered, and looked at her with a slightly awkward expression. He then glanced down at John, and left. He... he knew something had happened. Not what. Oh, thank Valen, not what. "John," Delenn whispered. She did not know what else to say. He rose to his feet and extended his arms. She stepped into them. "I know," he whispered, as he held her tight. "I know." She did not know how long she remained there. She was not crying - she didn't think she could, but she... wished she could. That would be so much easier. Cry, and move on. Cry, and it would all be better. It wouldn't. "I've... been thinking about it, Delenn," he said. "I mean... I always knew I was going to die someday. It's... it hasn't been that bad a life, really. I'd like... to... think I've made a... difference." "You have," she said softly, into his chest. "You have, but you could still do so much more." "I'm not... afraid... to die, you know. I'm... not afraid." She pulled back. "Then you haven't... considered... the cure..." "Not if it means going to them. Never. I don't know just what that injection will do to me, but I'll leave before it ever gets contagious. I'll... go somewhere... I don't know where. I won't infect anybody else." "Please, John. Don't lie to me. You'll go to Z'ha'dum, won't you? You'll try to... attack them. There." "I... might. It might not come to that, Delenn. Sinoval said there was a cure. Perhaps he'll be able to find one... without the side effects, or without turning to the Shadows for help. Anything could happen." She smiled sadly. "We have a saying. 'Faith manages.' If we have enough faith, then... maybe..." He smiled too. "'Faith manages.' I like that." "So do I." She snuggled close to him again, hearing the beating of his heart. She realised that her heart was sharing that beat. Two bodies... but one heart, one soul. *We are old souls... I know I will meet him again, but this is... so unfair... So short a time together, so much to be said, so much to be done, so...* "De... Delenn," he said at last. She pulled back and looked up. "Ah... look... well... I... I don't really know how to say this. I never thought I'd... feel like this about anyone again. I never... imagined. I mean... I... when my heart says something... that is... Aw hell!" He stopped, and breathed in deeply. "I love you, Delenn. There. I love you with all my heart." She looked at him, peering into his eyes with a peculiar wonder. She... she did not know what to say either. *Faith manages.* But... this was so unfair! "I love you, John," she found herself saying. The words just seemed so... natural. "I love you." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. That just seemed so natural as well. *Faith manages.* Yes, sometimes it does. ---------- *Dead... dead... died in his arms... dead, dead, dead.* Sinoval paced in a circle around the Hall of the Grey Council, his anger growing with each revolution. He had been angry when Deeron had died. Now he was several steps beyond furious and a strange sort of peace was settling over him, as if he had gone so far into anger he was now out the other side, where he was watching everything with no sense of emotion, only a sense of what was to be. She had died. In his arms. His warrior's instincts had saved him again. He was a light sleeper. Always had been. Even the potion did not work. He had awakened to see the syringe descending towards him and had reacted instinctively, twisting her arm away, throwing her aside. His mind had not even been sure of what he was doing, but his instincts knew all too well to plunge the syringe into her own arm. She had died. In his arms. She had said nothing. She had never explained. Never justified. She had died. In his arms. Something had happened. Something. Someone. No, not someone. Gysiner. A priestling. He had taken her to the Temple. Sinoval knew what was at the Temple of Varenni. A Vorlon. He would pay later too. But for now, the priestling. The sound of footsteps. The sound of Soul Hunter footsteps. Sinoval looked around the Hall, seeing the two who were on guard. His honour guard. He stopped pacing and turned on his heel to face four Soul Hunters bringing forward Gysiner. The priestling looked afraid, but he still walked forward. He came to a halt just inside the circle of light. The Soul Hunters urged him on and he stepped, reluctantly, into the centre of the circle. The other lights winked out. Sinoval had extended Stormbringer and was tapping it against his thigh as he walked. It was beginning to hum gently. "What... what is this about, Holy One?" Gysiner asked, managing a fine mix of arrogance and spinelessness. "What...?" "Former Satai Deeron died less than an hour ago. She tried to kill me. Before that, she was seen with you. You took her to the Temple of Varenni. There, the two of you met the Vorlon. Do I lie?" "Min... Minbari do not lie." "No, they don't. Nor do they kill each other. Do I lie?" "Minbari do not lie." "Why? The Vorlon?" Gysiner started and looked at where he perceived Sinoval to be. "Have you ever seen a Vorlon, Holy One? Do you know what they look like? They are the Chosen, they are..." His face took on an expression of almost divine bliss. "I cannot describe what they are. You have opposed them. You have defied them. You have even attacked one. "They say you are a heretic. They say you are a blasphemer. They say you will destroy Minbar. I have seen nothing to tell me they are wrong. "Kill me if you like, Holy One. I am not afraid." "What did you do?" Gysiner sighed. "I... took Satai Deeron to meet Ambassador Ulkesh. He... revealed to her his true appearance. They then spoke. I do not know what they said. I had done my part." "Minbari do not lie." "I do not lie!" "Then I will soon have an opportunity to find out. Primarch!" The Primarch Majestus et Conclavus shuffled forward. He had been listening, a slightly bemused expression on his face the whole while. "Begin." The Primarch nodded. "Are you sure you want to...?" "His fate will be mine soon enough. I may as well see what I have bargained for." The Primarch bowed low. "I... I am not afraid to die," Gysiner said hurriedly. "Nor should you be. After all, when you die, your soul will be re- born, correct? To live another life." Gysiner's eyes widened in horror. "No! Even you... you could not... dare!" "I will break apart the ties that bind us. I will rebuild a new Minbar, and a new Minbari. I will set new laws, and new judgements and new wisdoms. I will not be bound by the old ways, for I am the future, not the past." Sinoval paused. "Valen's words, spoken at the first meeting of the Grey Council. They apply just as well to me." "No," said a soft, sad voice. Sinoval turned, as a figure walked slowly into view. It was Kats. "No, Holy One. You cannot do this." Sinoval paused. ---------- Ulkesh drifted through the Temple of Varenni, looking at the people gathered there. They had come here expecting a miracle. Soon, very soon, they would witness one. ---------- Kats stepped forward, breathing slowly. She could see Sinoval clear- ly. His face was calm, but his eyes... they were raging, filled with a madness so intense as almost to shatter worlds. It was a very similar madness to that she had seen often in Kalain's eyes. "You cannot do this, Holy One," she said again, stepping forward. "Has there not been enough death here already?" She reached the border of the circle and, hesitating, she stepped into the place of the Satai. A column of light sprang up around her and she shook, old memories returning. "You... cannot do this." "How did you get here?" he asked softly. There was no anger in his voice. It was all in his eyes. "How did you know?" "I... saw your Soul Hunters arrive in the Temple, looking for Gysiner. I followed them here. I... wanted to believe there was a good reason, but I saw that there was not." "My lady, you cannot understand what..." "He believes, Holy One. He believes in Minbar, just as you do. He merely has a different way of expressing that belief. If what he did deserves punishment, then punish him, but you cannot do this." Sinoval looked at her. She wanted to shrink away from the force of his gaze. She did not want to be here. But she stayed. She had to. Some things were more important than fear. "Why are you doing this for him? What... what does he mean to you?" "Personally? Very little. But for you... I swore fealty to you, Holy One. I swore I would serve and obey and honour you. I will honour you by not letting you tarnish your soul in this way." He let out a strange laugh. "My soul is already bartered away, my lady." She did not flinch. "Then give it to them untarnished." He bowed his head, and when he raised it again, he looked at Gysiner. "Go! Get away from Minbar today. Never come near me again, and remember. You owe your life to a worker. Remember that." "I assure you, Holy One," Gysiner snapped. "I will never forget this day." He stepped out of the small group of Soul Hunters surrounding him and stormed from the Hall. Kats sighed softly and stepped out of the column of light with a palpable sense of relief. "You are a remarkable person, my lady," Sinoval said sadly. "A very remarkable person. I just wish I had more to offer you." She smiled. "You have already offered me far more than you can under- stand, Holy One. And... I must return to my work. I was... worried about you, Holy One. Thank you for making my worries groundless. You would not have killed him." "Believe that if you wish, my lady. Come, I will take you to Yedor in my shuttle. I must go there as well." "Why?" she asked, afraid that she already knew the answer. She did. It was two words. "The Vorlon." ---------- It was raining above Yedor, a rain which brought fire and screams as it fell. The scientists had not yet been able to identify just what pollutants the Earthers had used in their bombardment. The effects however were clear. Still the Temple of Varenni stood, proud and defiant. A place of memories and history, a sacred place, a holy place, a place of dreams and refuge. A place where the future of the Minbari was soon to be decided. The actual complex of the Starfire Wheel itself was largely empty. The aisles and naves of the Temple had been filled almost to bursting, but few had dared go near the heart of the sanctuary. Those who did backed away quickly, driven by a revulsion they could not understand. Only two were present at the Starfire Wheel now. Kalain lay huddled in the shadows, ranting and muttering to himself. His mind had finally been broken by the image of the light which shone directly upon him. Even when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of that figure, glowing, ethereal, magnificently beautiful. He knew at last what he had to do. As for the other, Ulkesh Naranek came and went. Seldom glimpsed at the best of times, he now appeared rarely, and then only when he wanted to. Gysiner, Chardhay, Deeron, Kalain... no others had witnessed him since the bombardment, although many wished to. In fact he had been busy, supervising various... plans being put into motion. A special delivery had arrived from the Vorlon Homeworld, arriving in great secrecy. All he could do now was wait for the one who thought to kill him. An hour or so before Sinoval and Kats returned to the Temple of Varenni, some of those huddled there began moving into the sanctum of the Wheel of Fire. Why, they could not say. They simply came, feeling that it was right to be there at this time. When asked, they said only that something important was about to happen. When Sinoval arrived, bringing with him a worker Satai and two Soul Hunters, something important did happen. ---------- Sinoval was not afraid of Vorlons. He did not hate them as such. He just did not like them and did not want them meddling in Minbari affairs. He was pragmatic enough to recognise that they knew a great deal, and that some of that knowledge they even shared. Almost everything known about the Enemy came directly from the Vorlons. Sinoval was also intelligent enough to realise that just because the Vorlons said something, that did not make it true. As he made his way to the Temple of Varenni with the full intention of killing a Vorlon, he was remembering all his past dealings with them. It was not a long list, but it was certainly a memorable one. Kats was with him and her presence gave him a certain sense of com- fort. He had heard of her actions here and they pleased him. He knew that he would be placing his people in capable hands when his soul passed from his body into a globe. When he arrived at the Temple of Varenni, he looked around at those resting there and his eyes darkened. They were his people, his respon- sibility, his purpose and duty and honour. He would give them a better world than this, a better fate than this. If necessary he would ascend the stairway to the top of the universe and challenge the Gods of old for their future. They shrank from him, fleeing from his honour guard. Kats walked beside him, her eyes filled with pity. Sinoval could sense something - the world turning beneath his feet, his fate revolving and twisting, the paths of his future no longer clear and straight but a labyrinth, bending and winding with many turns. As he entered the heart of the Temple, he discovered why. Kalain was here, shuffling from the shadows, a bitter madness in his eyes. He looked at Sinoval and raised one thin arm, pointing one torn finger. Kats gasped and stepped backwards slowly, but Sinoval could not see her. He could not even see those of his people gathered here, watching. His people. His future. His destiny. A new heaven and a new world below. A new people, a new creed, a new hope. The Starfire Wheel began to open... ---------- Memories... a human, a Minbari... the one, the other... A name... did he have a name? Did he have more than one? Did it matter? Waiting... a game nearing its end... or perhaps a beginning... It speaks in his mind, an image of an angel... Nearly, it says. Soon, now. Fire and darkness... ---------- Sinoval looked at Kalain and then at the Wheel. The Vorlon was nowhere in sight, but he would be here. This was all a part of his game, a fine web drawing closer. Kalain, the Wheel, the Temple, Sinoval himself... and was this the end - or was there more? "False prophet!" That was Kalain. Sinoval looked at him and sighed. Kalain had once been... so much more. He could have been so much more. This should not be his destiny. "You have deceived, and lied. You are no Chosen, you are no saviour!" "I am... as I am," Sinoval said softly, stepping forward. He lifted Stormbringer from his belt and extended it. He had needed to bring it, of course, but he could not remember actually putting it there. The weapon was a part of him now. "I was chosen by no one save myself. I rule in my name, no one else's." "Then prove your will to rule. Prove yourself!" Kalain gestured to the Wheel, sliding open a little more. The column of green light shone brightly, illuminating the sanctuary. Kats visibly shrank from it, and she had reason to. Kalain had modified the radiation from the Wheel to torture her. The light of Minbar's sun filtered through machinery that had been old a thousand years ago. The willing would remain within the circle of the Wheel, sacrificing themselves to it so that their faction would win. For Sinoval, death was not an option. "Holy One," Kats whispered, stepping forward. "You need not do this. You do not need to prove anything, least of all to him." "I have my destiny," Sinoval said slowly. "As do you, my lady. You... you will do well. I chose well. If... if this does not go well, then I will regret we did not have more time to talk. Valen walk with you." "And with you," she said softly. Sinoval strode forward, looking neither to right nor left, but only at the Wheel. He stopped when he reached it and looked at Kalain. He was saddened by the look of hatred in his friend's eyes. Sinoval stepped into the Wheel, and Kalain joined him. It opened a bit further. ---------- From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Between The Candle and the Star, Part 2B, Date: Thu, 11 Jun 1998 18:31:42 +0100 Between The Candle and the Star, Part 2B of 2 "I love you," said John Sheridan. "I... love you." It was easier this time. Delenn smiled, and kissed him. "I love you." Yes, much easier. ---------- Sinoval had been expecting pain, and so he was not particularly sur- prised to experience it. Certain things were surprising him, though. He had not expected the stench, nor the stinging in his eyes, nor the smould- ering heat that singed his clothes. Stormbringer crackled and hissed, vibrating angrily, almost as if it were alive. Kalain seemed to be... enduring the pain. It could surely be no worse than that he had experienced as a result of Jha'dur's infection. He might even be welcoming death. For him, death would be a merciful release. For Sinoval, it would be... difficult. The Wheel slid open another notch and the renewed onslaught of radia- tion almost sent him to his knees. He dropped Stormbringer before him and began to lean on it, gritting his teeth. Kalain's arms were flung wide, his head tilted back. He was staring directly upwards. In an instant his sight was stripped away, his eyes burned completely through. The Wheel slid open again and Kalain let out a cry of what might have been pain, might have been ecstasy. Sinoval shielded his eyes and managed to straighten himself. His tunic was burning, and Stormbringer's hum was growing louder and louder. Kalain let out a startled cry, this time definitely one of pain. He staggered back, clawing at his face, his fingers clawing deep furrows through his eyes and down his cheeks. The Wheel slid open. Kalain fell backwards, staggering out of the circle of the Wheel. He was crying out in pain. Falling to his knees, he crawled away. He was a pathetic, desperate figure. Sinoval almost wished he had died within the Wheel, rather than live on like this. But that would not have been practical. Sinoval could leave now. He had endured the Wheel, proven his cour- age, outlasted his opponent. His point had been made, and no one would doubt his ability to rule. But that was not the way it worked. Valen had endured the Wheel, and so must he. Sinoval looked beyond the boundaries of the Wheel, seeing his surroun- dings as tinged with a dark haze. Kalain was only barely visible. He was staggering away into the shadows, returning to where he felt most comfort- able. His position here was now finished. It was a shame. Kats was watching. Sinoval could not be certain, but he thought there was a pained expression on her face. The Soul Hunters were beside her, and they betrayed the reality of the situation. They were not moving forward, not railing in despair at losing the soul they had been promised. They knew the truth. There was to be no death here now. Sinoval looked further beyond, witnessing a hint of light in the shadows of the Temple. The Vorlon would be there, watching. Did the master manipulator begin to realise, even now, just how much he himself had been manipulated? Slowly, each movement an effort, Sinoval raised Stormbringer above his head. The Wheel was nearly open. The pain was... exceptional, but he endured it. He had to. A new heaven, and a new world below. The Wheel slid open the last notch. The radiation filtering through reached lethal levels. It would destroy flesh, destroy metal, destroy skin and bone, destroy clothing, destroy light, destroy dreams. Not this time. The radiation faded as the Wheel slid shut, its purpose fulfilled. The trial that Valen had endured and Marrain had not, was over. And, still standing there, weapon raised above his head, was Sinoval. He had endured what should have killed him. As Valen had, a thousand years before. Sinoval strode from the boundaries of the Wheel. He said nothing. No words needed to be said. This had been seen by many. Word would spread, old legends would be raised, old stories re-told. A new heaven, and a new world below. Sinoval's heaven, Sinoval's world below. The legacy of Valen fulfilled, his prophecies come to pass, his place fulfilled. Almost. Light filled the Temple. The beating of angelic wings filled the air. All heads turned, to see the being of light who flew above them all, a radiant glory spreading from its wings, a beautiful touch reaching from its fingers. The name Valeria was on every tongue. The ancient deity had returned to bless his Temple. And someone else had returned alongside him. Walking beneath his enfolding wings there came a figure, robed and hooded, clad all in grey. It carried a staff, like the staff of the Grey Council, the one used by Hedronn in murder and broken by Sinoval on his return. This was not that staff. If anything, it was even more worthy than that one had ever been. The figure stopped before Sinoval. For a moment, time ceased. The figure removed his hood. Minbari eyes stared from a Minbari face. Except this was no Minbari. Not... true... Minbari. "I have returned," he said, his voice sure and solid. Above him the angel hovered, great wings flapping slowly. Sinoval paused, awaiting the three words which would change the Minbari forever. Soon enough, they came. "I am Valen." Thus ends 'The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams' - Phase Two of 'Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror'. Phase Three, 'A Line In The Sand', will begin with a prologue 'The Gathering Storm' and will continue with 'The One And The Nine' (4 parts). Valen has returned to a Minbar devastated by war and chaos. But will he soothe Minbars problems - or add to them? What are the secrets of the great prophet, and how do they tie in with Sinovals own secrets from the past? The answers lie twelve years before... at a desperate last stand by a race on the brink of extinction, featuring a general called Sinoval, a Satai called Delenn and a human... named Jeffrey Sinclair.