'What I need to know is where he's gone, and just where on this whole planet the Vorlons have been hiding all this time!'
'I thought you knew everything.'
'Clark was damned good at keeping secrets, even from me. But no one can keep secrets from you. That's what you do, isn't it?
'So where is he, and where are the Vorlons?'
'Why should I tell you?'
'Because if you don't, then God alone knows what's going to happen! Scorched Earth?'
'Let him do what he likes. We don't deserve to be saved.'
'What?' Sheridan breathed. He stumbled back. 'How can you say that?'
'You're talking to someone who had an unborn baby murdered less than three weeks ago. I've studied humanity all my life, and I'm telling you we do not deserve to be saved.'
'How can you...? Listen to me! I don't know why you went into this job, but I know why I did. I wanted to help people. I wanted to do what was right. It took us all centuries to build a society based on freedom and rights, but the thing about freedom is that it brings responsibility. That's the point! We have to give some things back to the society that raised us. I tried to teach that to my children, and I'd teach it to my grandchildren.
'I can't just sit back and watch people die if there's anything I can do to prevent it.'
'You just killed two people,' Welles noted.
'And if it saves millions, then was it worth it? Dammit, Welles! Help me!'
Welles closed his eyes and sighed. A soft tremor shook his body, and he said one word. 'Vicky.' Then he opened them again. 'What would these Vorlons need? What resources, what sort of environment, what?'
'They took over Clark. That implies they'd be with someone or somewhere he was involved with a lot. They'd prefer to be as near the top of the scale as possible. Maybe not the Government itself, but close. Someone powerful, but a behind–the–scenes player. I'd take a guess at someone behind a member of the Round Table.'
'Ah, yes. Them. Someone Clark would visit regularly?'
'He'd have to. The control must have been very slight to prevent me noticing. They'd have to reinforce it at regular intervals.'
'IPX,' Welles said slowly. 'He's been having secret, private meetings with someone there for months, maybe longer. He's always gone alone. What was happening there.... I was never able to find out, but they've got a huge complex, a lot of illegal weapons and other research, and a good number of off–world holdings and interests.'
'IPX,' Sheridan said. 'Yes, that makes sense. So is that where Clark's going to be?'
'Possible,' Welles admitted. 'There are secret passageways from here to there. That's.... ah, that's how he disappeared. Have you tried finding the doorway from here?'
'No. There wouldn't be time.'
'Very wise of you. There's a time–coded lock on the other side. Once he's activated it, you can't open the door from this side. It's a security measure to stop anyone trying to follow him.'
'Well, that doesn't matter. If he's in the IPX headquarters, even underground, then he's a dead man. Him and all his Vorlon friends.'
Welles started. 'What are you going to do?'
'We don't have time for a ground assault, to send Security in, break out the army, anything like that. They're obviously ready to move, and we've got the Alliance over our heads right now.
'So.... we'll go for an air assault.'
'Air assault.... but the dome....' Realisation dawned in Welles' eyes. 'Oh my God.'
'You have to sacrifice the few to save the many,' Sheridan whispered.
'Then how does that make you different from Clark?'
'I'm on the side of the angels.'
'Funny,' said Welles, his eyes dark. 'I'll bet that's just what he's saying.'
Tirivail of the Storm Dancers clan could hear the sound of battle, and for one instant she wondered if it was the sound of her companions fighting Sinoval's treacherous soldiers or the sound of a combat a thousand years old.
She could feel the power in this place. It was a holy place, not just to the Tak'cha but to her people as well, a place where the ancestors had walked, where legends had stood. She could hear their words, feel their inner strength, witness their ancient struggles.
It had been she who had noticed that Kozorr had wandered off, and also she who had worked out where he would have gone. Gripped by a strange, dark feeling she could not explain, she had gathered Rastenn and the others and gone to find him, moving quickly.
They had found family and friends, kith and kin, wearing bands that proclaimed their allegiance, and standing guard with pikes raised. There had been a moment's hesitation, and then battle had been joined, Minbari against Minbari, warrior against warrior, all set upon strength and skill and prowess and will.
As it had been in the old days.
Tirivail had caught a brief glimpse of Kozorr inside the room, and had seized an opportunity to dart into the chamber. A figure was standing over him, pike raised. For a moment time shifted slightly, and she was sure she saw a tall warrior, bearing the mark of a clan long dead. Without thought, she struck, and as her pike connected, she saw who it was.
'You should be more careful,' she said to Kozorr, a faint smile on her face. 'But then....' She turned to look at Kats. The strike had not been a harsh one, not a killing blow. 'So should she.'
'No,' Kozorr whispered, trying to rise, but his crippled body would not permit him. It was a tragedy, such a vibrant will imprisoned by a weakened and injured body. She did not love him any the less for his deformity, but he could not believe that, of course.
'Come,' she said, bending over to take his hand. 'There is battle outside. You will be needed.'
'No,' said another voice, a surprisingly forceful one. Tirivail turned to see the little worker rising to her feet. She still held Kozorr's pike. 'We should not be fighting each other,' she said, holding the weapon inexpertly.
'Silence, traitor. Lord Sonovar should have killed you when he was able.'
'I am no traitor, not to the Minbari, not to the Grey Council, not to anyone.' Tirivail saw Kozorr flinch. 'But this is not the way. We should not be fighting each other.'
'We did for thousands of years before Valen came. We will do so again.'
'And where will that take us? Our world is dead, our people scattered to the three winds, our cities rubble and our shrines empty ruins. We should be working together to rebuild, not merely creating more dead bodies.'
'Spoken like a true worker. Go back to your little den and build walls and bridges. Let us rule, as we were always meant to.'
'Always? You do not see, do you? We have been three working as one. You fight, we build, they pray. And together, our people are strengthened. Apart, we wither and die.' Kats paused. 'Ask Kozorr.'
'He is a warrior! He knows the way the galaxy is.'
Kats turned instinctively to look at Kozorr. Tirivail could see him out of the corner of her eye. His head was bowed, his body shaken by racking coughs. His weak leg was twisted.
Tirivail's heart wept to see him like this, but she was a warrior, and she knew the value of action over sentimentality.
She darted forward, aiming for a paralysing blow rather than a killing one. Her last strike had been weakened due to her mis–perception of what she was striking. This one would not be. She was a trained warrior, Kats just a worker holding a pike even a master could not wield well.
Kozorr's pike seemed to move in Kats' hands. There was a flick of her wrist, and the pike knocked aside Tirivail's thrust. The warrior stepped back, eyes darkening.
'I am only a mere worker,' Kats said softly, 'but a warrior I knew once, and loved always, told me that it has been said that weapons can.... over time.... become moulded by their owners, guided by the spirits of those who bore the pike in times past.' She smiled sadly. 'A silly superstition, is it not?'
Tirivail paled. She was a warrior. A thousand years had passed since the great days of the warriors, the days of duels and glorious deaths and immortalisation in poetry. A thousand years of peace were shouting at her.... but she still believed. The old ways spoke to her, and in the depths of her heart she truly believed that her ancestors
