Kozorr sampled his delicately. Once he was sure that Sonovar had finished his, he drank it all and handed the goblet back to Forell. "What was that?" he asked.
"A refreshing and invigorating serum from my home, my lord. I was born in a small village on Owari Nine. A herb grows there in the mountains, and it was made into this drink to benefit our warriors."
"Well, Kozorr…. you wanted to return to your quarters."
"I think…. I think I am ready for another sparring match. Tell me more about your intentions for Sinoval."
* * *
Well. It was over. He had failed.
He was not angry. Well, not much. He had not been expecting a great deal, to be honest, and he had thought this a fool's errand from the start. Too much influence on Delenn from the other side. Without her…. the rest of the Alliance might be swayed, but as it was….
Oh well. Things were shaping up. Battle lines were being drawn across the galaxy. The Alliance on one hand. Humanity on the other. The Narns were still undecided, and negotiations were still going on amongst the Centauri. The…. other side had one of their representatives there, but then there was an eminently practical man fairly highly placed who was willing to make deals with Z'ha'dum.
And then there were the undecided. The tiny worlds. The small, little empires. The Sh'Lassan Triumvirate. The Gaim. The Vree. The Hyach. The Abbai. Either members of the Alliance but with very little tie, or completely neutral. All small, easily snapped up by whichever side chose to go for them.
But there was one thing none of them could count on. The cosmic wild card. Sinoval. Influencing him to join either side was a futile effort. Oh, not that they hadn't tried. The other side had attempted assassination, but…. there had been other ways, originating from Z'ha'dum. They had failed so far, but…. things were progressing well enough.
How long did he have left? An hour, Delenn had given him. Hmm…. no, they would not be likely to let him see John again. A shame. He wanted to see his son again. It might be for the last time. Delenn would not be at all interested in coming to get the cure now. Well, if she saw what the cure was doing to certain Minbari, she would not want it anyway.
He sighed. He missed John. He was all that was left of his family. A man should always have a reason for fighting, for striving. Oh, the betterment of the race, liberty, fraternity, equality, freedom…. all of these were good buzzwords and slogans, but he knew that none of them meant anything. A family. Blood. Love. They were things worth fighting for.
So why was he still fighting? Why hadn't he retired and gone back home to die in peace, and be free from all the errors of his past?
He had another reason for pursuing this war. Something else he had said when asked his fatal question.
"What do you want?"
Peace. My family safe. An end to the nightmares. My people safe.
And revenge on the ones who did this to us.
With a soft sigh, David Sheridan fixed the memory of his son and only surviving child in mind as he went to catch the shuttle that would take him away from John's deathbed.
* * *
Someone else was at John's deathbed, someone who had just begun a terrifying war that would no doubt create many more deathbeds, and ensure that there were too many people to fill them.
As she looked at him, Delenn gently touched his forehead. He was sleeping. At least she thought so. His skin was very hot, almost painful to the touch, but she kept contact with him. Before long she would lose the chance.
"Delenn?" he whispered at last. "Are you…?"
"I'm here," she said softly in reply. His eyes flickered open. They were bloodshot and haunted.
"Had…. dreams…. Dreaming now…. See…. things…."
"What things?" she asked. According to the reports she had received, Kalain had been delusional for many months as the virus coursed through his system. He might well have suffered hallucinations.
John chuckled softly; a hideous sound, entirely devoid of laughter. "My…. Dad…. I…. saw…. my Dad…. He was…. working for…. for…. them…." The sweat was standing out on his brow. "A…. stupid…. dream…. wasn't it?" The last two words were a plaintive cry.
Delenn blinked away tears. "Yes," she lied softly, thereby making the second greatest mistake of her life, one that would be even harder to atone for than the first. "Yes. It was just a dream.
"Just…. a dream."
* * *
The next day the new Vorlon Ambassador came before the Council of the United Alliance. He gave his name as Ulkesh Naranek, and Delenn shivered as she recognised him from a long time ago, another life. Lyta walked before him, as his herald. He had been here for some time, and he had been waiting. Waiting for the mortal beings to make their own choice as to where they stood.
Elsewhere, Ambassador David Sheridan returned to Z'ha'dum and reported his failure sorrowfully to his superiors. He provided as full reports as he could on all the members of the Council, save one. The report on Delenn of Mir was left to his aide, the one person who had once known her better than anyone else alive. Neroon's analysis was most comprehensive.
Captain Dexter Smith went out into the cities of Proxima 3, and inevitably found himself among the people of his old home. Sector 301. The Pit. It had changed very little since he had last seen it. He found an apartment and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling long into the night.
On Centauri Prime, Mr. Morden met with an old acquaintance, and was delighted to hear that Vir Cotto had gone up in the world slightly since their last meeting. Much was said about Emperor Mollari and about Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. Meanwhile, Lord-General Marrago and Minister Durano continued their graceful, elegant dance around each other, gambling their lives, their future and their planet on who would win their little contest for power over the other.
Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar was somewhere out in deep space, making preparations for his arrival on Centauri Prime. He was somewhat surprised to discover that Mr. Morden was already there.
Alfred Bester sat alone in his dark chair, thinking about the day when Sanctuary would become anything but.
Kozorr and Sonovar spoke long into the night; about Kats, about Sinoval, about the Soul Hunters, about honour and duty and the warrior's code. By the time the night was over, Kozorr had unwittingly agreed to Sonovar's plans. It would merely take a little longer to reinforce the suggestions. Forell hung ever-attentive in the background.
Ulkesh Naranek spoke of war.
And somewhere in deep space, at a vital crossroads on a Brakiri trading route, four Shadow vessels shimmered out of hyperspace and attacked the three Brakiri trading ships they encountered there.
There were no survivors.
Gareth D. Williams
Through Darkness and Fire
What is one life worth? What is one soul worth? And who must pay the price? The war has begun, and Delenn is faced with a most difficult choice by the new Vorlon ambassador. An offer of salvation is made, but is it too much for anyone to pay? Elsewhere Sinoval encounters the sting of treachery, and the war comes to Centauri Prime, bringing with it a great fire and a terrible Darkness.
Their tactics are seemingly without rhyme or reason. There is no logical pattern to their choice of targets. Of this I am certain. The worlds that have come under fire so far have no distinguishing characteristics. There is no progression from one area to another; no discernible goal; no readily ascertainable purpose.
The respected representatives from the other clans will no doubt regard this as inadequacy on my part, and far be it from me to presume to compare myself to the wisdom of such people, but if I may reach above myself for a moment, I believe I have a theory.
None of us has been able to discern an overall strategy to the actions of the race we have dubbed 'Shadows'. We know that they are not a haphazard race in general, because when it comes to a direct engagement there are clear, well-defined tactics and very precise attack formations. They have tactics, they merely lack a strategy.
I believe their strategy is nothing but the spreading of chaos. They exist to create fear in our minds, to disrupt and damage, but not to destroy.
My lords, I do not think they want us dead. On the contrary, they want us alive, but…. directed in some way. They want us to panic, to blame each other for our lack of skill, to sow doubt and dissension. Their reasons for this, alas, I have not been able to determine, but then I am just a simple warrior and such things are doubtless beyond me. Perhaps the revered Shalma Drekenn may be able to enlighten me.
What is clear is that they have some purpose for us, and I for one have no intention of letting them accomplish it….
An excerpt from A Report upon the War, by Parlonn, Warleader of the Fire Wings clan, presented before the Gathering of Fanes in the city of Tuzanor, in the third year of the last great Shadow War.
[This report was declared highly seditious in light of Parlonn's later actions and was sealed in the Great Archives in Yedor following the conclusion of the war. All copies were lost when the Library was destroyed by human bombardment in the Earth Year 2259.]
* * *
They came from nowhere, simply appearing, shimmering into view. There were three of them, black and sinister, shadows against the night sky.
The crew of the two Drazi ships knew full well what they were, and they were not afraid. Perhaps these…. mysterious aliens had been able to defeat the Brakiri expeditionary force sent out against them, but what could you expect from Brakiri anyway? This crew were Drazi, and they were true warriors. After all, hadn't they fought these…. Shadows already? At Epsilon 3. They had survived that, and they would survive this.
The first Sunhawk was sliced in pieces by the first Shadow ship. Its crew died without the chance even to scream. The other soared forward, firing its forward ion cannons. The Shadow dodged the blast effortlessly and rose above the warship.
An instant later, the second Sunhawk was gone.
The three Shadow vessels departed from normal space, none so much as scratched, leaving behind them only the wreckage and the dead.
* * *
The images faded, and Delenn sighed softly. So many dead, so many lives annihilated in a mere split second. Such a tragic waste, and it had been she who had arranged their deaths. Oh, refusing the Shadows' false offers of peace had been the only course of action, but ultimately it had been her decision. She had made it, and these people had died as result.
There was a gentle hush amongst the members of the Council. Delenn's first glance was to Vizhak and Taan Churok, the two Drazi members. They had been here from the very beginning, and they had each served the Alliance well. But they were still Drazi, and some things remained no matter how much time was spent among aliens.
