this was always the case, but since the death of Kosh at Epsilon Three a new faction has arisen. Kosh, I believe, truly was our friend. The new faction is not.
'Use my death, use this information I have been able to provide to you. Use it as best you can.
'And secondly.... save our people, Sinoval. Save the Minbari. You are the person for this, in these times. You told me once something that has proven to be true, no matter how much I would wish it not to be. These times need a warrior, not a priest. You are a warrior, Sinoval, and perhaps the greatest there has ever been, or ever will be. I am nothing but a priest, and while I can heal wounds, I cannot inflict them, which must be done to end this war and save our people.
'I forgive you for what you have done, for I see now that you meant only the same as I did: the salvation and protection of our people.
'Be strong, Sinoval, and be true to the role you have taken for yourself. I do not think we will meet again this side of death, but if by some chance we do.... then I will be able to forgive you in person.... if you will forgive me.
'Goodbye.'
Delenn's hologram faded, and Sinoval blinked once. He digested this information for a moment, and became aware of a simmering anger, one that had been building since Kozorr had left Cathedral. He had never liked Delenn, but he had always respected her, and to see her fall like this....
But why? He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded, smiling sadly. 'Ah, Delenn.... you are right. You cannot understand. But I can. You see, Delenn, I may know nothing of love, but I understand revenge all too well.
'You will go to Z'ha'dum, and there you will die. The Vorlons will explain this to Sheridan, and he will become everything they need in their war. He will become their ultimate warrior, their Starkiller. His only link with peace destroyed.... you.... they will be able to mould him into their image, and for their purposes.'
His face took on a furious expression, and he raised his fist towards the heavens.
'I will not permit this!'
The shadows all around him began to shimmer, and the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus walked slowly into view. 'You seem angry, my friend,' he observed, his ageless face calm.
'I am.... but I know where my path leads me now. If we are to have any hope of victory, the Alliance and the Army of Light must not fall into the Vorlons' hands. Sheridan must not fall into their hands.'
'You have a plan?'
'Indeed I do. We will go to Kazomi Seven.'
'She's coming.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes. I can.... feel her.'
'Hmm.' David Sheridan paused in thought, looking at his companion. He felt distinctly ill-at-ease in such company, but he tried not to show it. He had a lifetime's experience of being in the company of aliens, but it was hard to look at Neroon and feel anything but hatred. He was Minbari, and warrior caste Minbari as well. It had been people like him who had destroyed Earth and everything in it.
But that was in the past. Neroon was.... not the same person he had been then. He was changed. It was remarkable what a little.... engineering could do.
For the most part, Sheridan did not even care about the Minbari any more. They were no threat to humanity now — they were fractured, divided, torn, practically at civil war. And after what had been done to Minbar, they knew what it was like to lose their home. Vengeance had been achieved, justice had been served.
If anyone were to ask him why he was continuing with the path he had begun so long before, he would have three answers for them.
To protect humanity. Not from the Minbari, for they were no danger now, but from everyone. From the Vorlons, the Alliance, Sinoval.... Humanity had, through no fault of its own, become involved in a war millennia older than itself, and someone had to keep the people safe. It might as well be him.
To free his son. John was trapped in this, by the Vorlons, by.... her, by all of them. He had chosen wrongly, yes, but he was the only living being to share his blood. He could forgive his prodigal son almost anything. He had to.
To.... The third reason was one he could not explain or give voice to. It simply was.... And it was her. Perhaps his obsession was born out of the last vestiges of desire for revenge, or maybe it was to do with his desire to protect John.
Whatever, he had invited her here before, during his genuine hopes of peace with the Alliance. She had refused, both his offer and the peace with the Shadows. Whatever deaths came about from this war were now on her head.
And now she was coming here. Neroon certainly seemed to think so, and he was.... unlikely to be wrong about something like this. There had been a time when he had known her very well.
'Well,' he said finally. 'I should tell our.... associates.'
'They already know,' whispered a harsh voice, a third voice. Sheridan looked at Susan Ivanova, his predecessor at Proxima 3, and sighed. He had been unsure of what to do with her. Their gambit at Epsilon 3 had failed, and she was unfit for anything else. She had apparently spent most of her time on Kazomi 7 asleep or delirious, and since he had arranged for her release to Z'ha'dum during the peace negotiations he had seen little evidence of any improvement in her condition.
Still, the Shadows seemed to want her. They undoubtedly believed there was still some use for her, although he could not think of one.
He paused, and realised he was being unfair. The failure on Epsilon 3 had been out of her hands, and she had done well, for the most part, as Ambassador to Proxima. She had only failed once, but it had been a colossal failure that he still had not been able to resolve.
She looked up at him, and he caught the full range of emotions in her eyes. Anger, fear, remorse, disgust.... acceptance. 'They already know.'
'But why is she coming?' he asked, speaking largely to himself. There was little chance of a coherent answer from either of his companions. She must know that this was a futile mission, and that she would not leave here alive. He had always prided himself on being a good judge of character, but this time his skills were failing him.
'Why?'
'To kill you,' whispered Ivanova. 'She's coming to kill you all.'
At last, the Shadows had come to Sanctuary.
Alfred Bester had been expecting this for many months. Ever since he had made a desperate gambit to seize control of the Great Machine of Epsilon 3, betraying the Resistance Government, the Shadows and G'Kar in the process, he had been expecting retribution. It had been inevitable.
And now it was here.
Fortunately he had had time to make preparations. But even he felt a chill as he looked at the ships approaching his station. There were a great many of them, more than he had been expecting. He supposed they would have to be sure. He was a telepath after all, as were most of those who followed him. The Shadow ships were vulnerable to telepathic interference, a fact uncovered by G'Kar in one of the ancient Narn holy texts. He had used this information to begin a deal with Bester, and so had brought the remnants of the Psi Corps into this war.
And now Bester was taking them out of it. They had all thought Psi Corps destroyed with Earth, but they had all been wrong. The Corps had resources stretching further and wider than anyone realised. Sanctuary was just one such place. The Corps could stay hidden for years, decades, and wait for the time. Oh, they would lose some of their influence and power in the years they hid, but it would not last forever. Nothing would be lost that could not be regained.
The Corps was mother, the Corps was father, and Alfred Bester was the Corps.
