From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Reflection, Surprise, Terror - For The Future, Part 1 Date: Wed, 4 Mar 1998 13:56:42 +0000 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase 2 - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Hi people. Here's the next installment in my parallel universe saga where the Minbari did not surrender at the Battle of the Line and went on to conquer and destroy Earth. Previous chapters should be in the archive, beginning with A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Feedback is always very welcome and should be sent to the address below. There are no Spoilers as such in this story, but I am drawing upon all elements of the B5 universe in writing this and anyone who is not up to the end of Season 4 may be inadvertently Spoiled. Legal Disclaimer: B5 and all related characters are owned by and copyright of jms and / or Warner Bros. I am making no money out of writing this and am doing so purely for pleasure. Personal Disclaimer: While I do possess certain hopelessly romantic tendencies, don't be deluded into thinking that means I'm going to be nice to these characters. Ain't gonna happen. Well... not always anyway... Chapter Six Reflection, Surprise, Terror - For The Future, Part 1of 2 [AT] [AC] by Gareth Williams, lwa97gdw@sheffield.ac.uk "Thus far, there have been only pebbles. Look up. The avalanche is beginning." Kosh Naranek, personal observation, dated November 25th 2259. * * * * * * * Violence... gifts granted by God... gifts misused, abused... he knows so many ways to kill, and so few to live... Sometimes he still remembers the sound of their screams. On very few occasions he remembers their names. All of them. Oh, he can try to excuse himself. There were days when he did try. But most of the time he did not even care. The galaxy was insane. Humanity was insane. Everything was insane. What was a little more death among so much? Violence... bloodshed... and yet... beauty. An exquisite, violent, perfect beauty. Death walks among you. And then... the face of God. The voice of God. Not the God in whose name he had killed, but the true God. The God of old. The God who had remade him, casting him in the true image, replacing zeal to rule with a zeal to serve. Violence... bloodshed... death... purgatory... And a voice... and a message... Now. The avalanche is beginning. Now, we are ready. Awake. * * * * * * * "John, you look exhausted." Her words were, as ever, soft and gentle, marked by a beautiful accent he never grew tired of hearing, no matter how tired he grew of everything else, or how tired he grew of himself. Her eyes were, as ever, filled with wisdom, and compassion, and a soft, unassuming beauty. It seemed that John Sheridan had at last found his something worth fighting for, but why could he not admit it, even to himself? Why could he not just tell her...? More than human and Minbari, more than memories of loves lost and loves surrendered, more than grief, or pain, or fear, more than the war which surrounded them... Not long ago, he had come to a realisation of sorts about where his future would lie, and how his past would relate to that future. It had not been easy, and now that he was here he was finding it harder and harder to accept what he had decided. Anna... Forcibly he brought himself back to the present, tearing his eyes away from Delenn's face. "I... yes. The incursions have been getting worse recently. The Streibs have been getting stronger and more bold. I suppose you heard about their recent attack on the Llort homeworld?" She nodded. "They'd never have dreamed of doing that a few months ago. They had a bit of... assistance though. From within. A number of the Llort generals were... well... co-opted, I suppose. It looks as if Londo's theory was correct." A look of quiet horror crossed Delenn's face, and he did not blame her. Keepers, they were called, apparently. A control mechanism of the Shadows. Londo Mollari had hatched a theory that a good number of the refugees who had fled Kazomi 7 in the early days of the Drakh invasion had been given these Keepers. It seemed that he had been right. "The Streibs were driven off, but the whole League's in a mess. I think that what you're doing here is about the only hope any of them have." What she was doing here... was nothing short of miraculous. A battered, destroyed colony had been transformed into a place of alliance between countless different races, all seeking to build something new out of the chaos. John knew just how many refugees were coming here, fleeing the conflict abroad, secure in the knowledge that this place had something other places didn't - a technomage to monitor the progress of the Keepers. It was a slow alliance, to be sure, and a difficult one, but it was something to hope for, and the galaxy badly needed hope at the moment. "John, you are exhausted. You should rest." He shook his head. "Nah, I'm all right. I just want to... talk for a while." The words 'with you' did not need to be said. She smiled sweetly, and nodded. John found his gaze drawn back to her, no matter how many times he tried to look at something else. There was no doubt that she was beautiful... the mixture of human and Minbari only accentuated what had been there from the beginning, although it was not something he could have recognised before. Then, he had still seen a Minbari, no matter what might have passed between them. Now, he saw Delenn. And yet, there was more than just the physical. She possessed a kind of... inner serenity, a peace both within and around herself. John knew all too well the power and anger she could manifest at times - he'd seen it - but for the first time since he'd known her, she seemed truly at peace with herself. She was a far cry from the powerful and majestic Satai he had first met in the Grey Council's Hall almost two years ago, but she looked just as proud in her ragged and dirty plain blue dress as she ever had in the official robes of Grey. She looked just as at ease carrying instruments of medicine as she ever had carrying weapons of authority. *Stop looking at her, you idiot! You said you wanted to talk... so say something!* "Um... how have things been here?" he asked, and then cursed himself for an idiot two seconds after he'd spoken. She did not seem to notice. "Better. No one died yesterday. That is the first time I can recall that happening in a long time." "I'm... glad to hear that." "We are training up some good doctors, but more than that. We have a few who are... simply willing to be there. Just to... be a ray of light at the edge of darkness... a hope at the moment of greatest despair. I... know how much that can mean." *I know she does. She's been there, remember, and where were you, idiot? The other side of the galaxy, or you might as well have been. She needed you, and because you're such a paranoid, foolish, numb-brained moron, you ignored her. You... Aw, I'm sorry, Delenn. I wish I... could...* "Delenn, I'm..." She smiled. "I know. I understand." There was a moment's silence, and John actually felt content for a moment, just being with her... that was enough, for the moment. But it couldn't last. The more time he spent just looking at her, the more he thought of the things they had both endured, the things he had... done... to her... to Anna... He had to break the silence, just to give himself something to work with. "I was talking with Taan Churok just after I got back," he said, awkwar- dly. *Yeah, you remember... for the hour or so you were too afraid to see Delenn.* "He's got some good plans for upgrading the security of this place. A few captains from the Drazi and Hyach came here. Vejar's checked them out and they and their crew seem clean. They're working up a series of patrols, defence systems and so on. They asked for a bit of help, actually. G'Kar promised to send a few of his Rangers along to oversee things, but he's stretched pretty thinly these days. He's got something big on over by Epsilon Three, something he's not telling me about." "Oh, that is interesting. I hadn't heard about that." "Well, G'Kar's keeping the exact details a secret from just about everyone. I'm not sure that even Bester or Ben Zayn know..." "No," she said laughing. "I did not know about the arrival of the Drazi captains. I have not seen Taan Churok in a while, although I have heard him quite often. Generally when he and Vizhak get into a shouting match during a meeting of the Provisional Government here." "From what I've gathered, you could hear those arguments on the other side of the galaxy." "I would not be surprised," she replied, with deadly seriousness. "I pity poor Lethke. Always stuck in the middle. Still, he is apparently enjoy- ing himself. He keeps telling me how much he wanted his own economy to run some day." John smiled, but it soon faded. "Delenn... Taan Churok wanted me to ask you when you were thinking of taking your place in the government here. They've been keeping it open for a while, but they can't do that forever. Vizhak is apparently already kicking up a fuss about it." "I will not be taking up a place on the government." "But, Delenn..." "No, John." Her words were softly spoken, but delivered with all the force of an avalanche. "I have ruled before... and made mistakes, mistakes that ruined your people, and nearly my own. I... will not rule again. I work here." She rose to her feet and walked to the window. Looking out through it, John knew she could see the inner courtyard of the building which had been given to her as a hospital. Once, it had been a Trading Guild headquarters. A young Brakiri child was running and playing, watched over by an older Hyach, not entirely approvingly. "I can do all I wish to do here. This is where I belong now, John. I help, heal, nurture, care for... My days as a ruler are done." "But your destiny... your people?" "Perhaps my destiny never was, and my... people... I will never see them, nor my home, again. I have accepted that. Sinoval has made the Minbar he wanted, and that did not include me. I was not strong enough to prevent him, and so I stay away. The fate of my people is in his hands now." "Delenn... you've been offered a chance to lead this alliance here, and that might be the right choice. Oh, Taan Churok can handle defence, and Lethke trade and Vizhak dealings with other Governments, and if the Centauri ever get around to appointing an Ambassador here, then he can do something as well... but only you can lead. Only you are untouched by factions... you're a new element here. And what's more, you care. You'd do the right thing. Delenn, please..." "No, John." She did not turn round from the window. "My place is here, now, and nowhere else. Please understand that." He raised his hands in exasperation. "I do. I just think you're making a mistake." "Perhaps... but it is my mistake to make." John took a deep breath. He did not want to have to tell her this. "I got the latest report of the war on my way back here. G'Kar sent it through. The Resistance Government attacked and took both your colonies in the Beiridein system. There wasn't even much of a defence put up. Apparently..." "I do not want to hear this, John. Please... do not tell me." There was a tremor in her voice. Her inner serenity did not run entirely all the way through. "Please..." He nodded, although of course she could not see him do it. "I under- stand," he said softly. He did not want to hear it either. Throughout the war he had been able to reassure himself by believing that humanity were the good guys, the innocent victims, and yet now... if even half of what he had heard about the way the Minbari were being treated, he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of humanity any longer. The incident with the Babylon had only heightened his concern. He had refused to destroy his old ship, and yet the very idea of Drakh being on board... of being allies... "I'd better go and get some rest," he said, awkwardly. "Thank you, Delenn." She nodded softly, her back still to him. He knew that she would not turn round until he left the room. And she didn't. * * * * * * * "I miss you." "Yeah, I bet you do. You're off having the time of your life, being a young, gung-ho fighting champion, leaving me stuck here, doing boring old archaeological work and digging things up." "Hey, any time you want to trade, let me know. You can do the getting shot at, terrorised, screwed over and put in dangerous situations and I'll do the rummaging around in the dirt." Dr. Mary Kirkish laughed, and Commander David Corwin laughed with her. It was... hard being away from her, but he survived. They both did. Neither had any choice. "Well, my mother always told me never to go out with a soldier." "Why? Was she afraid of our charm, style, sophistication, devilish appeal...?" "No... She just knew the sense of humour you guys have." "Hah hah. Have I told you the cat story yet?" "Not in at least... six minutes. So what's happening over there then?" "What happened to not talking shop?" "Anything rather than the cat story, please." "Well... not much at the moment. We got back off patrol. The Streibs attacked the Llort homeworld. Very nasty. Now we're... loafing around for a bit. The Captain's gone down to the surface, while I'm stuck in charge of this here tin can. It's good to see him get a bit of a rest, actually. If anyone can manage it, Delenn can." "So all's quiet on the Kazomi Seven front?" "You could say that. What about Sanctuary?" "Bester's up to something. He's been in a foul mood all week. Gari- baldi's being run ragged, and Lianna's stressed. The baby's been ill. He's more or less okay now, but things looked a bit scary for a while." "Have they decided on a name for him yet?" "Still a bone of contention, although I half think they only argue about it to keep each other on their toes." "Well, as long as they get one by the time he starts having children of his own, I suppose. I... I wish there was an easier way of doing this. I haven't seen you in person for months now." "I'll survive. We both will. We have to." "That doesn't mean I stop missing you." "That's sweet... Has Captain Sheridan worked out that you're using the Gold Channel for these messages yet?" "No... what he doesn't know won't hurt him." "As long as he doesn't see the phone bill." Corwin's link beeped and he muttered something under his breath. "I heard that," Mary said, smiling. He made a face at her. "Yes?" he said, answering the message. "Commander," it was Major Krantz, in charge of the bridge at the moment. "You'd better come up here and see this. It's... heh... well..." "Well what?" "You'd better call the Captain. You've seen Vorlon ships before, right?" "Sure. There were a load at the Second Line." "That's right, sir. There's also one here." "I better had get the Captain, hadn't I?" "You better had, sir." * * * * * * * *Not the One. No, not the One.* It was dark here, but nowhere was the darkness more pronounced than in the bearing of Sinoval, Holy One of the Minbari and now Primarch Nominus et Corpus of the Soul Hunters. He sat, slumped on the chair which more and more resembled a throne. He sat, and brooded, and remembered, while all around him the Soul Hunters carried on their business, collecting and 'preserving' their souls, and waiting for him to die. He hadn't seen the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus for a while now. He was off doing whatever it was he did. The leader in both politics and reli- gion - or something like that - he was probably running this place, this mammoth spaceship they called Cathedral. Strictly speaking Sinoval should be in charge now, but he had never had much interest in running things. That had never been a part of his agenda. And now... he had little interest in anything. *Not my destiny. No, hers. *Zha'valen.* He remembered her face, her twisted, alien face. Was that the face of the future of Minbar? Almost better to be dead than to see the future of his people become like that. Certainly better to be dead than to be here, like this. Minbari did not like the dark as a rule. Their Hall of the Grey Council was often dark, but that was a metaphor, representing the courage of the light from within the darkness. Actually, Sinoval had never really minded the dark. Cathedral seemed dark everywhere; the Soul Hunters evidently did not suffer from the same disabilities as the Minbari, unless they kept it this way specifically to annoy him. For all that he led them now, there was still no love lost between Minbari and Shagh Toth. Two of them were out there, in the darkness, watching him, waiting for him to die. Then his soul would be theirs, his payment for his rule here. He had hoped for time to devise a plan to escape such a fate, but then he had not anticipated hearing the news he had received on his arrival. *Not my destiny. Hers.* Sinoval looked around him, feeling... something. A signal of sorts. He was not sure... how... There was a lot about this place that he had not been told, but... surely there was... He started. Everything beneath the throne was suddenly swept away, covered by some sort of holographic display. It was the space around them, around Cathedral. It surrounded Sinoval, leaving him floating there on his throne, staring out into space. Holographic imaging technology. Very like that which the Minbari had. Coincidence? Sinoval was beginning to suspect that there was a larger connection there than he was being told about. But that was for another day. A ship was coming into view. A nondescript trading ship, such as could belong to any of the League races. But why would a trading ship be coming here? He rose to his feet, and his two Soul Hunter guards materialised by his side. "Someone is... here?" he said. "A ship is arriving." "It is not important," said the first of his guards. He was not even sure it had a name. He wouldn't have cared if it had. "No... it is. Take me to the docking bays." Something, anything to break the tedium, to break the darkness. Something... someone. But why did he seem to think that there was something... strange about this new arrival? His warrior instincts, which had rarely let him down, they were screaming at him. But were they screaming an alert... or a warning? * * * * * * * "You're joking, of course?" For all John's dumbfounded stare at the figure before them, Delenn knew that he was nowhere near as suspicious as he seemed. No, in fact he was... afraid. Although he was not showing it. As for Delenn herself, she was afraid too. The figure before them was human. He was unkempt, unshaven, dirty. He smelled too, not just of dirt and grease and sweat, but of... of foulness, of a distinct and almost tangible wrongness like meat left out too long to go bad. "What?" the human snapped. "Do you think I came all this way just to joke with you? No, I didn't. I was sent here to test both of you, to make sure that you are the two important people you're meant to be as opposed to the pathetic children you look like at the moment. This is not a joke." "And you have proof of this, of course? Proof you're from the Vorlons?" The arrival of a Vorlon ship had caused quite a stir here. Especially when a human emerged from it, a human who had demanded to see John and Delenn - alone, of course - and test them in some way. John had been suspicious and very doubtful, but Delenn... she had been expecting some- thing like this for a long time. She might have given up her place in the future, but the future evidently had not given up on her. "Other than the fact that I came here in a Vorlon ship? Listen to me, you worthless, pathetic piece of crap! I'm here to test you, or to kill you. Maybe both. Are you going to agree to the testing, or am I going to have to arrange to have this planet blasted from orbit?" "You're welcome to try, you..." "John," Delenn said quickly. This was getting dangerously out of hand. "Please... we cannot anger the Vorlons. Just... do as he says." "Delenn, this is insane. What gives him the right to...?" "John..." He groaned softly and stepped back a little. "Fine. For you." He then looked at the human. "This had better be serious." "Oh, it is. Very very serious. I will need a place far away from other people. Somewhere quiet and dark and undisturbed. Preferably a building with at least two rooms." "I know somewhere suitable," Delenn said, her heart slowly sinking. She had tried running from her responsibilities, and now they were running to claim her. "We will not be disturbed. But... would you like some... refreshment first? Something to eat..." "I have taken neither food nor drink for many years, and your politeness is wasted on me. I am here to perform my duty. Nothing more." "May we at least know your name?" "No. Now take me to this place. And hurry. The sooner I am finished here, the sooner I can be on my way." Delenn looked up at John. His face was filled with anger. She gently reached out to touch him, but he shrank away. He would not stand for this. He would react badly, she knew it. She whispered a silent prayer that he would survive this inquisition. That they both would. * * * * * * * Sinoval, not surprisingly, found a number of Soul Hunters waiting at the docking bays as the strange ship arrived. They formed an honour guard, similar to that which had greeted him on his arrival. An honour guard... or a defensive force? "You know who is coming?" he asked, unable to shake the... feeling that this visitor was not going to bode well. The Soul Hunters did not speak. "You know who is coming?" Still silence. "Answer me or..." "Violence is rarely the answer." Sinoval turned. The voice was softly- spoken, urbane, polite, in flawless, unaccented Lenn-ah. It was also coming from a human, who stepped out of the darkness. The Soul Hunters nearby suddenly snapped to attention. "It has always served me well enough in the past," he spat. "Who are you?" "A very dangerous question to ask," replied the human, smiling. "What is a Minbari doing in Cathedral?" "Running the place. What is an Earther doing here?" Sinoval was readying himself for battle, slipping his dagger from his belt. He doubted he had anything to fear from a human, but this one... there was something about him that appalled his senses. This one did not look like a warrior, but there was still an element of danger in him. The human's composure cracked for a moment. "You're in cha...? Well, that explains a lot. Some sort of invasion, was it? A military coup?" "Far from it. I offered them a deal, and was accepted. Now, who are you?" "Who are you?" Sinoval started, standing bolt upright. He knew the significance of that question. Oh, it was a simple enough question, but the way the human said it... Now he knew what it was he had been sensing about this human. "I am... who I am. You will come with me." Sinoval looked up at the Soul Hunters, openly daring them to defy his authority. They did not, and stood aside as the human walked up to Sinoval, and nodded briefly. "Of course. I am sure the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus will be able to sort out this little... misunderstanding." "I doubt it. What is your name, human? So that I can mark it on your soul jar when I give your soul to the Shagh Toths here." "I can't see that happening, but in the interests of cross-cultural understanding... the name is Morden. A pleasure to meet you." * * * * * * * "Right, now what the hell is this about?" John Sheridan looked around the darkened room and fought down the urge to run away, to shout, to scream. He did not like darkness. Too many paths in his life had led him there. Always to darkness. And this time there was no Delenn to bring him light. She was in the next room, waiting. The nameless Inquisitor fished something out of a pouch at his belt, and handed it over. It was a collar. "Put it on," he ordered. "Like hell!" "You will put it on. Some of my colleagues prefer manacles, but I think a collar works better. There's... appropriate symbolism there. Put it on." "Not until I get some answers. What is this test meant to prove anyway? We don't owe you or the Vorlons anything!" "Oh? Well, they might not agree with you. You have fallen from the path. Both of you, although she more than you. You were never destined to be very much, really. Oh, perhaps you could have been, but that was when humanity actually meant something in the galaxy. Now, you're nothing. Worse than nothing. What you've done... well, it's going to take a lot of hard work to undo. Perhaps you'll be able to help undo it. Perhaps not. That's what I'm here to find out. From you, anyway. From her... well... that's more serious." "What do you mean? What do you need to find out from Delenn?" "Find out from her... Not a great deal. At least you had the excuse of being ignorant. That or stupid. She... she has no excuse. None at all. She knew everything, and she still screwed up spectacularly. She's going to need a big hand to get back on the path. That... or help digging a grave for herself off it." "If you hurt her, by God I swear I'll..." "You'll do what? Kill her, like you did Anna, when she fell from the path? Yes, I know about that, you needn't look so surprised. I know everything. Now put that collar on. The sooner it's on, the sooner I can get this finished and go home." "Why you? Why did the Vorlons send you? Why didn't they come themselves?" "Who said they didn't? And as for why they chose me... I'm... a fit vehicle for the testing and torture of others. Now put... on... the... collar!" Glaring at him, John snapped the collar shut around his neck. "There, now I've got this fascinating accessory on, what happens next?" The Inquisitor held up something in his hand. A control panel of some kind. "This happens." He pressed a button. John's world dissolved in pain - complete, utter agony. His body con- vulsing, he tumbled to the floor, almost falling into unconsciousness as he landed. Only dimly aware of anything, he did know that he could not move. He could hardly even breathe. "That was very satisfying," said the Inquisitor. He got something else from his pouch, and placed it beside John. "There, I'll get back to you later. After I'll killed the worthless reject on the other side of the door. Maybe you have some excuse. Maybe you can even be redeemed. I can't see that happening with her though. She knew what the stakes were and she screwed up big time. "I'm going to have to kill her. See you later." John watched helplessly as he left, walking into the room where Delenn was waiting. The door closed behind him and for a while there was nothing. Then, there was a scream. And another, and another... and many more. He could not move, could not even twitch his finger. Nothing. Except his eyes. These he could move. It was worth it just to look at anything other than that door. The door he could do nothing to get to. His eyes fell on the object the Inquisitor had placed on the floor beside him. It was a black rose. To be continued... From: "Gareth Williams" Subject: Reflection, Surprise, Terror - For The Future, Part 2 of 2 Date: Wed, 11 Mar 1998 14:14:26 +0000 Babylon 5: A Dark, Distorted Mirror Phase 2 - The Death of Flesh, The Death of Dreams Hi people, here's the latest in my parallel universe saga that began with A Dark, Distorted Mirror, and based on the premise that the Minbari did not surrender at the Battle of the Line and went on to conquer and destroy Earth. Previous installments should be available in the archive. Comments, criticisms, questions and death threats are all welcome and should be sent to the address below. (Although why I'd be getting any death threats, I don't know - I mean, I've been quite nice to these people lately.) This chapter does not contain any Spoilers, although I am drawing upon all elements of the B5 universe in writing this, and people who are not up to date may be inadvertently Spoiled. Legal Disclaimer: B5 and all related characters are owned by and copyright of jms and / or Warner Bros. I am making no money out of writing this and am doing so purely for pleasure. Personal Disclaimer: Standard hopeless romantic / not very nice / no guarenteed happy endings here. * * * * * Chapter Six Reflection, Surprise, Terror - For The Future. Part 2 of 2. by Gareth Williams, LWA97GDW@Sheffield.ac.uk She will be transported to a universe consisting entirely of pain. I will tear her apart, body and soul. Every doubt, every fear, every little insecurity I will bring forth, consuming her in the anguish of her own past. A lesser person would crack, be unable to deal with the knowledge of just what they are, but her... She will survive. She must. It is her destiny. But to survive, she must first be broken down, torn apart and remade. It will be a long process, and one which will barely begin here. My Master demands it of her. Why? It is not my place to ask. I was damned, and they gave me salvation. I was doomed, and they gave me hope. They have told me of her future. There are two paths. One... one will lead to fire and darkness, to pain and agony and loss and loneliness. The other to happiness, and joy, and family. She must choose the first path. It is her destiny. And if she does not... if she seeks the easier path, then I will kill her. She has her destiny. She deserves no sympathy for where its path will take her. * * * * * * * "Who are you?" "I am Delenn." A scream. "No. Who are you?" "I... I am me." A scream. "What a stupid reply. Who are you?" "I... I am who I am." A scream. "Well, that was clever. I tell you an answer is wrong, and you give it back to me. Who are you?" "I... I don't know." A scream. "No, of course you don't. Where will your path lead you?" "I don't know." A scream. "Why not?" "I cannot see the future. No one can." No scream. In this case, words would hurt more than physical pain. "I can. I know where your future lies. Would you like to see it?" "No." "Why not?" "I will make my future. It is not made for me. Nothing is preordained." "You used to believe it was. You dedicated your life to fulfilling Valen's prophecies. What were they but a foresight of the future?" "I was wrong." "So sure?" "Yes. Valen's prophecies have not come to pass. They have brought nothing but pain." "Of course they've come to pass! The Grey Council is broken. There is fire and darkness. You have united with the other half of your soul." "The two halves of our soul are killing each other." "You're killing yourself. You are both halves in one body." "And they nearly killed me!" A scream. She'd been too long without pain. "No, Valen's prophecies are coming to pass, exactly as he said they would. You are just afraid to follow them to their conclusion." "There is no conclusion." "You are just afraid to embrace your destiny. And so you run and hide from it." "No... no, I do not." A scream. "Liar! For years you deluded yourself that you were someone special. For years and years. A delusion crammed into you almost from birth by every- one close to you - by Dukhat, by your father, by Lenonn, by Varmain, by Mayan... They all told you that you would be special. And you believed it! So why, if you believed then, when you were worthless, do you not believe now, when you could actually do something?" "I was wrong! I have no destiny, save to be here." A scream. "Liar! You could do so much for your people, you know that! Your people are falling apart at the seams, did you know? Sinoval is gone... he obviously didn't have the strength either. The worker caste have been all but annihilated. The warriors are in full control and are handling the defence in the war with the humans with spectacular ineptitude. The human fleet will be at Minbar within a month at the most, and they're going to tear it apart rock by rock. "You could do something about that, so why are you here? Working in a hospital!" "I can do nothing for my people." "Says who?" "They exiled me! I am Zha'valen. I can never return to Minbar. Never." "Is that the truth, or only what you want to think to avoid admitting you are a coward? Your home planet is going to be destroyed if the humans have their way. Is that what you want?" "Perhaps it is all we deserve!" Silence. "Ah." A scream. And another, and another. They did not stop for quite some time. * * * * * * * "Who are you?" "I'd guess I'm right in thinking you don't just want my name and resume?" Sinoval paused, and looked at the human before him. This was all a little bit too intrigue-based for him, but there was necessity here. Quite considerable necessity. Valen knew, Sinoval could not stand humans. It wasn't that they had killed Dukhat - what was another priestling dead? - just doing the universe a favour really - but the Grey Council had ordered their annihilation. Completely and utterly. Sinoval had not believed a word about the so-called 'holy war'. He had never cared about the death of Dukhat, and the loss of the Black Star - while humiliating - proved no more than that some of the humans were lucky and/or skilful. No, what grated was that he had been ordered to wipe out the human race completely, and he still had not accomplished it. Hundreds of warriors - many of them his friends and mentors - had died in that war, some aboard the Black Star, and their deaths should not have been in vain. Wars should never be fought for nothing, there should always be a purpose behind them, and that purpose should always be followed through to the end, no matter the cost, otherwise it was all for nothing. Seeing a human alive was just another reminder that the purpose his warriors had died for was as yet unaccomplished. Seeing a human alive, here, was arousing all his instincts. They were screaming at him. This was not just any human. He had given his name as Morden. It was not a name Sinoval knew. "What are you doing here?" "I'll need to speak to the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus before I can reveal that. Matters of client confidentiality. I'm sure you under- stand." "I rule here now, and you will tell me everything I need to know, or I will kill you. Matters of honour and duty. I'm sure you understand." "Ah. If you get the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, I'm sure this little misunderstanding can be cleared up quickly enough, and you can get back to your meditation or whatever." Entertaining thoughts about doing highly unpleasant things to this Morden, Sinoval rose to his feet and smiled. He had not been entirely surprised to learn that Cathedral had cells, but their darkness, dinginess and general unpleasantness has been unexpected. Morden would not escape from here easily. "I will return shortly," Sinoval said. "See if you can be a little bit more co-operative next time." As he left, Sinoval caught the faintest trace of a noise, and Morden twitched angrily. He smiled. His instincts were not wrong. For the first time since his conversation with Marrain, he was sure of what he was doing. * * * * * * * "Who are you?" John Sheridan could move at last, rising to his feet hesitantly, as though his muscles did not really want to work and were taking some convincing around the possibility that staying lying down might be the best option. "Who are you?" What had happened to Delenn? John had been paralysed here, unable to do any more than move his eyes, hearing Delenn's screams and completely powerless to do anything to help her. He was angry and afraid. "Who are you?" The screams had stopped a few minutes ago, and the Inquisitor had come through the door into this room. They were in an abandoned warehouse somewhere at the far end of the city on Kazomi 7. There were quite a few buildings left abandoned after the Drakh invasion, and rebuilding was going slowly. There had been more than enough places to suit the Inquisitor's needs. Somewhere dark, quiet and empty. The Inquisitor made an annoyed clicking sound with his tongue. "When I ask a question, I expect it to be answered." He touched the small device he held and John's body exploded with pain. He fell back to the floor, letting out a shocked cry. "Who are you?" "I don't have... to answer you," John rasped. "You have... no... authority... over me." "I have authority over everything and everyone that walks in the light, and where the light is not, I bring it. Who are you?" "Go to hell!" "Been there. Done that. Worn the T-shirt. Been to Heaven as well." There was more pain and John cried out again. "Go to hell! I owe you nothing. I owe the Vorlons nothing! All of you can just run back into your little encounter suits and sit around looking cryptic while the rest of the galaxy gets on with their lives. "We don't have to do a single thing you say!" "They say that violence solves nothing. They are of course wrong." More pain, and more and more, until John Sheridan was lying on the floor, con- vulsing in agony, screaming until his throat was raw and until he doubted he would ever breathe again. And still there was pain. * * * * * * * The last time Sinoval had spoken to the tormented soul known as Marrain, the conversation had taken place in a mindscape manifested as a fiery inferno, and, later, as a hill on Minbar - the Place Where Valen Waits. This time they met in a barren desert, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen - Minbari largely, but there were many from races Sinoval had never seen before. In the distance, fires raged, and screams could be heard. The Battle of Asahina 7, it had to be. A bloody siege against a world held by the Shadows' allies. Before it was over, the planet had been all but devastated. Marrain turned to face Sinoval, and the dark fire of madness in his eyes blazed out. This was a man who had lived a thousand years before, who had fought alongside and later betrayed Valen himself, a man whose soul had been taken from his dying body amidst great pain and shame. Not the easiest of allies, but Sinoval was beginning to find he actually liked him. "You..." Marrain muttered. "Are you... real?" "Yes, I am." "I... remember seeing you before. At Z'ha'dum, and at Tor'al'na veni. Were you really there, or am I dreaming? I remember dying, but... that must have been a dream. Am I dreaming?" He seemed to have forgotten the truth. The Primarch Majestus et Conclavus had revealed that Marrain had died in extreme agony, which had marred the perfect capture of his soul. Even the strongest of souls would degrade after so long 'preserved', but Marrain was close to insanity. "Yes, you are dreaming." It seemed kinder that way. If he could not remember his past, then that was only for the best. "I need your help." "But if you're a dream, why would you need my help?" Marrain pondered this for a moment, almost child-like, but then he shook his head. "It does not matter. Dream or not, you have come to talk to me, and no one has done that for... I cannot remember. How may I help you, ghost?" "Do you know of a man named Morden? He is of a race you will never have met." "Morden? No, the name is unfamiliar to me. Should I? Is he a dream also?" "No. He was just someone I thought might have been long-lived. If he is not..." Marrain looked around at the desert. According to the histories, this had once been a verdant world, lush and ripe and full of life. "I remember this place. We fought here. The agents of the Enemy came for us here, they and... other forces. The Vorlon Ambassador... he came here." Sinoval started. Sometimes the universe did do things right after all. "Why?" "To speak with Valen. It was a... a warning of some kind, I think. An argument." "But Valen and the Vorlons were always such close allies. There were always two at his side. The hist... We were told this was so." "Yes, but not always... Valen and the Vorlons... they were not always together. Valen... I... don't remem... Oh Valeria! I remember! I am dead! I died... I... NOO!" Sinoval leapt from the mindscape the instant Marrain began seizing control of the environment. The last time he had done this, Sinoval had been all but consumed in fire. The fact that it had not been real had not lessened the horror of the experience. His mind reawoke in his body and he rose to his feet. He was in the personal sanctum of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, sitting cross- legged, staring into the globe which housed Marrain's soul. "You seem determined to allow us to achieve our side of the bargain very quickly," said the Primarch. He was standing behind Sinoval, a wry smile on his face. "That soul is a... difficult one. Taken in pain and suffering. Not even I speak to him as often as you do." "I promised Marrain I would not leave him alone, and I needed some information." "And did you find it?" "No, but I did learn something else. Maybe you can help me. There is a man in one of our cells. A man named Morden. Who is he?" "A representative, of a much higher power than you can know." Sinoval smiled. "I knew it. He stinks of the Vorlons. He is not one of their ageless servants, though. Marrain did not know of him, so this Morden must be a fairly recent addition to their minions. Good. The bond might not be absolutely complete, then." "What do you intend to do with him?" "Break his bond with the Vorlons, of course, and then find out what he knows. The Vorlons have been far too silent since their appearance at Proxima Three. I want to know what they are doing." "Why should what the Vorlons do concern you?" Sinoval looked the Primarch directly in the eye, and his tone when he spoke brooked no opposition. "I don't like the Vorlons. Not at all. And to find them here..." "Ah yes. Preliminary discussions relating to an alliance. Nothing particularly far advanced at the moment. If you wish, we can break it off." "Hmm... It's too late to deny my presence here. Yes, I think it better had be broken off. I need to go and..." Sinoval stopped, looking around. "That... signal again... I don't know what it is, but I can... feel... something." "Cathedral is, in many senses of the word, alive. You are its leader, and therefore its heart and soul. It is telling you something. Do you know what?" Sinoval looked directly at the Primarch. "The Vorlons are coming." The Primarch nodded. * * * * * * * He left the human screaming in his pain and walked across the threshold to where the other one lay. She was still there, lying prone, staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes, only the gentle rise and fall of her breast betraying her breathing. Beyond that, she might as well have been a corpse. *How fitting, that she is fallen, staring up at the heavens to which she could have ascended. She is weak, and must be reforged. I will shatter her, and bring together the pieces in molten heat, remaking her in the image my Master desires. *She has her destiny.* He stopped beside her, kneeling down to listen to the sound of her breath- ing. Heavy and racked with pain. He smiled. She was almost broken now. Almost... With a blur of motion she burst into life, clawing up at his throat, grabbing at his neck. Her other arm flew up and struck the underside of his elbow. A second blow and the control panel fell from his hand. "We... owe... you... nothing!" she spat, still clawing at his throat. "I am... who... I... am, and nothing else matters! We owe you..." She screamed as her collar charged with power and pain, but she maintained her grip on his throat. The control panel was nothing but a symbol, an object for her fear. The true command for her pain was within his mind. And so she was screaming with pain, but still she held his throat. Her grasp was not strong enough to choke him, but her fingers were clawing at his skin. She possessed a ferocity and a strength he found surprising. She was supposed to be weak, to be pathetic and clinging and broken by her ordeals. She was not supposed to be this strong. Pain kept surging through her, until she finally let go and slumped to the ground. He kept the pain up however, even as he staggered back, drawing in breath and regaining his composure. She was not supposed to be this strong. Slowly, although even that small movement should have been impossible for her, she raised her head, focussing blazing eyes on him. "I... survive..." she rasped. "We... survive. We do so... because... we... have... no other choice... We die... children... die... family... friends... loved ones... all die... but life... life endures... because life... is much stronger... than... death... Life... endures! "You... are... right..." She kept speaking, although she should have been able to do nothing but scream under such agony. "I... do not... know... who... I am... I... do... not... care! Who I am... I make... myself... I... We... will survive... We do not need you!" He staggered back before the bitter, angry fury in her words, unable to believe that such fire was possible from one in such pain. "Who are you?" he asked. "I... do... not... care!" "Who are you?" "I... do... not... care!" "WHO ARE YOU?" "She's right," said a new voice. "You can't make us submit to you just through pain. Power is nothing without authority. If you and the Vorlons want to sit back looking cryptic, then fine. We'll fight this war without you, because we have no other choice. We don't need you. You have no authority over us. If we have to, we'll find out who we are the hard way, without you." Sheridan! But how...? He was supposed to be paralysed. He was supposed to be... He was not supposed to be standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes of fury and at her with a gaze of such unspoken love. No... this is not over yet! "And what is she to you? Nothing but a murderer! She destroyed your homeworld, and you're here! Agreeing with her! By any rights you should have beaten her to death long ago!" "What is she to me? None of your damned business!" "Oh... And if I kill her?" He intensified the pain, but she did not move. Did not scream. Did not even avert her eyes. "What then?" "I won't let you." "Oh... no foolishness about giving your life to save hers? No... romantic platitudes and absurdities? No gallantries?" "If I have to die to save her life, then yes... I'll do it." "John..." she said, finding the strength to speak at last. "No..." "If I have to die, then yes, I'll do it." "Why? You owe her nothing but pain. Why would you give your life for one such as her?" "Because I... because... because the heart does as the heart does. The heart does not recognise boundaries on a map, or wars or political parties. The heart does as the heart does!" "Oh, very deep. And countless billion humans are screaming at you. And what about you?" He turned to look at her, head still raised, eyes still blazing, still not screaming. "What about you? You swore to annihilate his people, remember? He captured you, took you away from your people, handed you over to death and torture, hit you, beat you... screamed at you... left you alone when you needed him most... Why should you owe him any loyalty? If I offer to kill him to save your life..." "I... owe... you... nothing! I will... answer... no... more... of... your... questions!" "You will." "No," said Sheridan. "No, she won't. And neither will I. Now get the hell off this planet, and never ever come back!" He looked from face to face, from dark eyes to green, and he realised that he had failed in his task. He quashed her pain and left, heart heavy and face downcast. He had failed... Perhaps... * * * * * * * "Are you sure this is going to work?" "I can't speak for your plan, but the technology will let you talk to them." It was not that Sinoval was unused to holographic technology, but standing by his throne, suspended in space, staring at the oncoming Vorlon ship, he could not avoid a slight shiver. He did not like Vorlons and never had but... their power could not be ignored. "You have our representative. Release him now." Sinoval looked at the Primarch, who shrugged. "This is Sinoval, Primarch Nominus et Corpus, Warleader of the Wind Swords clan, Entil'zha of the Rangers, Satai of the Grey Council, Holy One of the Minbari." He was not sure how impressed the Vorlons would be by the list of titles, but it could not hurt. "I lead here now. Your... represen- tative will be returning to you when I am satisfied." "Fallen. Died. Saviour. Which are you?" Sinoval gave a start of surprise, but he recovered quickly. Of course the Vorlons would know the details of Valen's prophecy, and probably of his part in it. "That is for me to know." "Who are you?" Sinoval knew the significance of that question well enough. He also knew that there was no answer. "What do you want?" The voice trembled with fury. "Never ask that question." "I will ask whatever question I desire. Do you wish to know what I want? A future for my people. United, strong, led from the top with courage and wisdom. That is what I want, and I will do anything to obtain it. I will fight against all enemies, inside and out. When the Darkness Valen spoke of comes against my people, I will crush it. "I know what I want, and I know what I must do to obtain it. Can you say the same?" "Release our emissary." "Why do you want him freed? Are you afraid of what he might tell me? Too late. I know all that I need to know. I knew he was one of yours the instant I saw him. He stinks of Vorlon. One of you is inside his head. Isn't that right? Destroy this place, and you destroy that part of yourself as well." "Release him. Now." "When I am good and ready, and when you are gone. Leave this place, and I will set him free sooner or later, once I've learned everything I need to from him. He - and his Vorlon passenger - will be unharmed. I promise you that." Sinoval paused. "Or you can attack, and kill him." There was a pause. "If he is not returned to us, then we will return to you, Saviour. We will return." As Sinoval watched, a jump gate opened, and the Vorlon ship departed. Sinoval suppressed a cry of exultation. He had not really been certain this would work. "I can see that life around you is going to be entertaining, at least," remarked the Primarch. "I have lived over twelve hundred of your years, and I would like to live a good many more. I must say, however, that this is the most exciting time I have ever known. What are your plans now?" "Find out anything useful from that Morden, and then let him go. And after that..." Sinoval paused. What did he want? "After that, it will be time to return home." "I thought your discovery had rendered that impossible." "No. I may not be the One who will save my people, but if not I, then who? I am all that remains. I am the only one left who can." "I see. I think I will enjoy conversing with your soul throughout eternity." The Primarch paused, and smiled. "Assuming I live long enough to take it, of course." * * * * * * * John tore the collar from his neck and rushed towards Delenn. She had slumped to the ground, but raised her head as he reached her. She managed a weak smile. "You were... right," she said slowly. "The heart... does... as... the heart... does." Slowly, he reached out to her neck and undid the collar, unable to think of words to say, or things to think, or... or... anything. "John... I..." "Shush," he said. "You should rest. You... should..." Her head was gently lifting to meet his, only a minute distance between them. He could see deeply into her eyes, an infinite pool of green, filled with wonder and knowledge and power and beauty and... and... and he was running out of words. "You should rest," he said slowly. She dropped her head, and nodded weakly. As he helped her to rise, she rested against him. By the time they left the building she was walking more easily, but her arm was still linked into his. He doubted she had any intention of letting him go. Truthfully, he had no intention of letting her go either. * * * * * * * He knelt down before his Master, bathed in the light of His holiness. "Master," he rasped. "I have failed. I have failed you." The Vorlon considered this for a moment, red eye gleaming amid the white. Then, Kosh Naranek spoke. "Good." And Charles Dexter was subsumed in the light of his Master's beauty. * * * * * * * The Allied Council of Kazomi 7 was in the middle of a particularly strained argument over trade routes, when the door opened and someone walked in. The basis of the argument revolved around new parties coming to Kazomi 7, seeking trade. Lethke, Minister for the Economy, was arguing in his typically Brakiri business manner, that more trade would bring in much- needed revenue. It was all very well people needing new hospitals, housing, more ships to defend the place with and so on, but the money had to come from somewhere, and no, Minister Vizhak, there was no point in raising taxes because most people had no money to pay any taxes anyway. Taan Churok, Minister for Defence, was arguing that letting more people near Kazomi Seven was an irredeemable security risk, and all these refugees were bad enough anyway, without a load of poxy merchants showing up everywhere. Vejar, technomage and unofficial Minister for Doing Impressive Things with Magic and Keeping Keepers well away from the place, pointed out that he could check the merchant ship for anyone touched by Keepers, and that maybe the extra revenue would be a good idea. Vizhak, Minister for General Internal Matters, said that yes, that was all very well, but Vejar was only one person, was bound to get tired and surely couldn't handle everything at once. Vejar said, yes thank you very much, mysterious powers beyond the ken of mortal beings and I get told I can't handle a simple search for Keepers, whose particular biomorphic chemical energy stuff stands out a million miles away. At that point the door opened and Delenn walked in. Her appearance was greeted with general surprise, and some murmurs of welcome. Lethke in particular had been advising her to take the place that had been set aside for her for some time now. She had always refused before. Delenn, First Minister and Leader of the Allied Council, took the seat at the head of the table. If there was a hint of discomfort as she sat there, no one remarked on it. "Welcome, Delenn," said Lethke. "It is good to have you here." "I... am fulfilling my responsibilities," she replied softly. "What were we discussing?" With much argument, Lethke, Vejar and Taan Churok filled her in. It was a good six hours before Delenn got out of the room, but the issue had been finally settled. The nascent alliance once again had its figurehead. Next: The Death of Flesh, the Death of Dreams (6 parts). The karmic wheel spins as the human fleets near Minbar, but are they intent on ending the cycle of pain and destruction, or on continuing it? As the Grey Council falls apart, it seems that not even Sinoval can save his planet from destruction. He will be fortunate if he can save the Grey Council from destruction, should that be his intent. As the skies above Minbar rain fire, a desperate coalition is formed to save the planet, and the hopes and dreams of billions. Meanwhile Londo returns to Centauri Prime, set on restoring order, only to run into a fair number of pitfalls along the way, and Bester's arrival on Proxima 3 results in the destruction of a fair few dreams itself.