"Findell, Holy One. My…. wife was killed on Minbar, and I brought our daughter here…. to be near to you, Holy One. I could not follow the Primarch, and I wanted to be with Delenn…. and you…."
"Ah. I see. I am sorry, Findell, that I have not met you until now."
"Oh no, Holy One. There is no need to be sorry. It is…. an honour…."
"The honour is mine. How do you find this place, Findell?"
"It is…. strange to my eyes, Holy One. But there is much that is good here. I grieve only because it is not Minbar. But our old way of life is gone now, that I know. And we will never be able to recover it."
"Never is a strong word, Findell, and you may yet see your home again. As will I. You heard me correctly before. I must leave here, travelling beyond as I did before. My…. destiny compels me. But just because I am absent in body that does not mean I am absent in spirit. I will always be with my people, Findell. Always."
"Then you will return again, Holy One? When you are most needed?"
"I…." Valen looked at the glowing, reverential eyes of his young companion and nodded. "I will return when I am most needed. But if my words are never forgotten, then I will never truly have left."
"Of course, Holy One. I understand. I…. thank you, Holy One." Findell bowed, stepped back and bowed again. He then scurried away, back into the streets. Valen sighed.
"You really creep me out when you do that," Catherine noted. "You sounded almost Minbari for a minute."
"I am Minbari. But I am human as well. Two souls…. in one body. The Vorlons did that to me."
"The…. Vorlons. Yes."
"But I have realised something. Simply because they have manipulated me for their own ends, that does not mean there is no good in what they have done. I may be their puppet, yes…. but I can still help. I can still heal, I can still build, and pray, and fight. Not everything they do is wrong, Catherine, whatever some may say." He paused, and looked at her intently. "I am not yet sure if what they did to you was wrong or not."
"I…. what? What do you…? What do you mean?"
"I can see their mark on you. It is so…. bright. At first I feared that the Catherine I knew…. once…. was gone, but I do not fear that any more. You have returned to my life, Catherine, and for that I am grateful to them."
"Ah…. I…. I don't…." She trembled, and then straightened slightly. "What are you going to do now?"
"Whatever their plans for you, and for me…. it does not matter. Events…. elsewhere are running away from them. From all of them. I will be here for a few more days at most. Then…. I will have to pass beyond again. And this time, I know I will not be able to return."
"How do you know this?"
He smiled, and pointed up towards the sky. "They're coming for me. I can feel them."
And for the second time in this world's history, a Vorlon ship arrived at Kazomi 7.
* * *
She could see it all now…. weaponry, defences, knowledge…. the histories of centuries come and gone, of decades yet to be…. All of it was hers, save for that one little part blocked off from her eyes and mind. She did not know what it was that could be hidden from her like this, but she did know that it was the greatest power of the Machine, and she was determined to find it.
"Tell me!" she screamed. "Tell me!"
G'Kar could not hear her. He was still, perhaps dead, she did not know. She supposed she could ask, but a part of her did not want to make the effort. G'Kar's servant, Ta'Lon…. he was still awake, whispering something in his own language. The Machine did contain translation devices — she could sense them, literally within sight — but they did not interest her.
"What is he saying?" she asked. Her voice sounded strange to her.
Tu'Pari looked up. She could see him there, his every thought laid out before her. He was steeped in blood even as much as she, but he did not possess her strength. He was only a mundane. His whole race were only mundanes.
"He is praying," came a calm, matter of fact reply. "He is calling upon G'Quan to grant him strength in protection of his lord."
"Is that likely to happen?"
Tu'Pari chuckled. "I very much doubt it."
One of the mundanes at the far end of the room stepped forward. The man. She had known his name once, she was sure, but could she still remember it? She trawled through his thoughts, ripping into memories and ideas as casually as she would flick through an address book. Lianna…? Frank…? Garibaldi! Of course. She knew him now. She had no idea who those other names belonged to, but they hardly mattered.
"Look, Donne…. this is taking things a bit far. I can't believe the Boss authorised this. Why don't you…. just…. give him a call at Sanctuary? I'm sure that machine can do that."
The Boss? Al! Alfred Bester! Yes. She was…. meant to…. do something…. tell him something…. It couldn't have been important.
"I will do as I please. You live by my sufferance, mundane. Don't forget that. You…." Her attention was diverted by the sound of G'Kar coughing. "Tu'Pari, wake him up!"
The assassin nodded and pulled out a small vial from a pocket of his tunic. Applying its contents to a cloth, he held it to G'Kar's face and pressed it against the fresh, deep wound across his cheek.
The prophet screamed as his body spasmed, forcing him back into consciousness.
"What is the secret, Narn?" she asked. "Tell me!"
"You…. are doing…. more harm…. than you know…. Give…. up…. the…. Machine…."
She laughed. "Give up all this? Tu'Pari, you've obviously damaged his mind somehow with those knives of yours. G'Kar…. tell me or…." She smiled. "They're fighting above our heads, you know…. fighting for control of this planet, this Machine…. and your precious station…. So many people…. so many to kill. I must confess, my experiences of killing are usually one on one. I've never done anything like this before.
"Tell me, Narn."
"No…."
"Then I'll kill them all!" Oblivious to the blood pouring from her eyes, her nose, her mouth, Donne threw back her head and sent instantaneous thought-messages to the Machine that engulfed her.
Missiles shot forth from the belly of the planet, seeking the warring factions above.
* * *
What have they done to my city?
Londo Mollari loved Centauri Prime. He loved the capital. He loved the Court, the temples, the offices, the libraries, the barracks buildings. He loved every street, every corner, every alley. He had spent the best part of his life there and there was nowhere he would rather be.
Words did not exist to describe his sadness as the transport flew over the city.
He had been in touch with his agents in the capital for some time and they had reported that matters there were bad, but he would never in a million years have believed it was this bad.
Buildings burned, the Guard — the Royal Guard — were fighting each other in the streets. Shops were being looted, people cut down, children murdered, women raped…. The whole city seemed to have gone insane.
Great Maker, what have we done? Malachi, what have you done? Can any power be worth this?
His nephew was there somewhere. Carn. Londo had sent him to manipulate the factions, to make things easier for when they needed to push north and take the capital. All those machinations seemed so hollow now. Where was Carn? A victim of this insanity? Or a part of it?
The flyer docked at the heliport and Londo disembarked with Lennier. This was where Malachi had said he would meet them.
"Stay here as long as you can," Londo instructed the pilot. Clearly afraid, the pilot nodded.
"What have they done to my city?" he asked, looking about him. The heliport was largely untouched, but the glow from the fires was bright and the screams of the victims could be heard even here. They were on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps the rioters had simply not yet reached this far.
"There is a madness here. Something…. someone perhaps, is affecting their minds." Lennier was looking around distastefully. Those were the first words Londo could recall him saying since they had left Remarin.
"Then why are we not affected?"
"Perhaps we are too strong for it? Perhaps you are anyway. I…. can feel it there. It is close, but…. my meditations will protect me."
"That is reassuring," came the sarcastic reply, but his heart was not really in it. His Minbari friend was hiding something, but he did not press him on it. Lennier had earned his privacy. "What will protect me? Large amounts of brivare, perhaps?"
"Your faith," came the simple reply.
"Faith and I parted ways a long time ago."
Lennier only nodded in reply. He looked distracted.
A few minutes later a squad of guardsmen appeared, walking towards them. Londo stiffened, and Lennier stepped in front of him, adopting a fighting stance. The guards stopped a fair distance away.
"Governor Mollari," said the leading guard, "we are to escort you to your meeting with First Minister Malachi. Please hurry. The streets are not safe."
"I noticed. But would I be any safer with you?"
The guard seemed insulted. "My orders are to escort you to the First Minister, and that is what I will do. He intended to meet you here, but conditions have worsened since he last spoke with you and he fears to travel the streets. We will provide a safe escort for you and your companion." Londo hesitated, and the guard continued. "He also said, if you proved suspicious, to remind you of your shoes. He hopes they are not too tight any more."
Londo relaxed. "Well, that means at least that you came from Malachi himself. Stand down, Lennier. We will go with these men." He went back to the flyer and turned to the pilot.
"Take up a safe position some distance from here. Come back and check this place every hour, on the hour. If we are not here in six hours, then leave and tell the Government at Selini that we are lost."
"Yes, Governor."
Londo turned back to his escort. "Merely a precaution. Well, then, Captain…. let us go."
* * *
She has seen death, too much death. She has known war, far too much of it. She has stood, high and imperious, as others bled and fought and died in her name. She has tried to renounce these old ways and embrace a new path, but conflict seems to follow the fallen Satai Delenn wherever she goes.
She remembers the title she gave to Captain Smith. Zha'valen. Outcast. A shadow upon Valen. She has not thought of that title in months, not since she took on a new position of power, one which she swore not to abuse in the way she had the last.
And yet she has brought her people, her followers, her friends, and the man she loves above all else, to this place…. and the war seems to have followed them.
Her incarceration in the brig had been short-lived, as some of G'Kar's Narn Rangers had managed to free her within hours. The fighting for the station had been brief, but bloody. Captain Smith had left many of his Security officers here, and Delenn had no doubt they were trained to the pinnacle of human efficiency. But this was not their home, they did not believe as the Narns did, they had not been trained to give their lives for the greater good, as the Narns had….
