Space itself opened up, bright shining gateways into other worlds. The Shadow ships turned from their wanton destruction of the helpless Brakiri trading ships. They turned to face the fools who would dare oppose them.
The new ships were much smaller. They were fast and strong and powerful. The Shadows recognised within their form the timeless machinations of their ancient enemies.
The Shadows swept forward. A beam of energy lashed out and struck at the nearest of the new ships. It spun off course, tumbling and rolling. It should have been destroyed.
The other ships acted together, an invisible link between them. They cried out, and the Shadows heard the voices of their ancient enemies. They heard the single word, amplified through the minds of pawns and tools.
And the Shadows did, held still and helpless, their ships paralysed. The living floor and walls around them trembled with something akin to fear. Deep in the heart of their ships, at the heart of their Machine, the sentient mind that gave them power was crumbling, assailed by the might of their enemies.
Then the new ships began to fire. The Shadows struggled to break free of the blockade, but to no avail.
Then the Shadows died.
Once Minbar had been the jewel of planets, a world of beauty, of culture, of cities millennia old, of shining rivers and glowing crystal, of high mountains and ancient libraries.
But it had changed, as all things must. Devastated by the wrath of a vengeful and arrogant enemy, Minbar had been reduced to rubble, the fine and ancient cities either destroyed utterly or reduced to abandoned ghost realms. The rivers had become polluted with dust and ash. The air had become thick with the poisons and toxins of the enemies. Bodies had been left to rot in the streets.
It had been over a year since Sinoval, Primarch Nominus et Corpus, still leader of the Minbari people and the man who was at least partially responsible for this devastation, had been on his homeworld. He remembered leaving it, seemingly forever. He had not looked back as Cathedral had departed from the dying world. He and Delenn had saved all those they could, all those they could find. Surely, if any still lived on the world, then starvation and disease would claim them soon enough.
Minbar had changed. It was not as clear and beautiful as it had been, and Sinoval knew it never would be again, but he could see that much was different now. The world lived again, the toxins erased. The air could be breathed, the water could be drunk, the ground could be sown. Never again would the planet be as it had been, but people could live here now.
Such power was beyond Minbari technology, beyond even that of the Soul Hunters. No, Sinoval knew who was responsible, and that made him distrust this seeming miracle. No Vorlon ever did anything without a reason, usually selfish.
He stood on the pinnacle of Cathedral, staring down at his world. But while he stood far above Minbar, he was also there. He could feel the heartbeat of the planet, stronger now than before. He could see the beings that lived there. His own people, those he had left behind.
And others. Vorlons. At least one, based in Yedor. He could sense something strange in the southern cities, areas he had thought destroyed utterly by the Earthers' bombardment.
'You will not reconsider this?' said a soft and ageless voice from behind him. Sinoval turned, not remotely surprised by the appearance of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, seemingly from nowhere.
'No,' he said firmly.
'This is not our way. This has never been our way.'
'It has never been the way of Minbari to deal with Shagh Toth either,' Sinoval reminded his companion. 'Laws and customs bind only weaker men. It is the great man who casts aside such things for the sake of what must be done.'
'Examine your own motives,' the Primarch warned him. 'Do you do this because it must be done, or for your own private revenge?'
Sinoval raised his arm in anger, and suddenly his pike Stormbringer was in his hand. 'We fight the Shadows. We fight the Darkness.... and maybe we will win, and maybe we will lose.... but what if we win, and find ourselves slaves to the Vorlons? What then? No, this must be done.'
'As you say,' said the Primarch softly. He did not seem at all afraid. 'I told you once that you were only the second Primarch Nominus et Corpus, did I not? Only the second ever to bear that title.'
'Yes, you did.'
'The first was a mistake. He fell, consumed by the darkness of his own pride and his own convictions. His soul was saved by the first of our order, and preserved in a globe sealed in the gateway to Cathedral at the top of the highest archway. It was a reminder to all of us that no one is beyond temptation, no one cannot be corrupted, and there is darkness within us all.'
Sinoval took in the message. 'I saw no such globe when I came here,' he mused. 'I have never seen such a globe.'
'It is still there, but now it cannot be seen. The light died the day you came here. The soul of the first Primarch Nominus et Corpus has escaped and gone.... somewhere. The Well of Souls told me only that the need for his presence here had passed.'
'Was that a lesson, Primarch?'
'I don't know,' he said softly. 'Was it?'
'I do what must be done, and if it means I must sacrifice my own life, my own soul.... or the lives and souls of those who follow me, then so be it.'
The Primarch sighed. 'You do not understand.'
'I understand more than you think. You know the plan.'
'Yes.'
'And you will perform your part.... you and those who are needed. I can kill the Vorlon, but this entire exercise is useless unless you take its soul. Will you do that?'
'I will do.... that which is required of me.'
Sinoval nodded. 'Good.' He looked down at the planet for a long minute. 'It knows we are here. It is waiting for us. I think it is trying to set a trap for us.'
'I believe the same.'
'It is welcome to try.' Sinoval's eyes, always dark, seemed to become deep pits of blackness. The Primarch looked into them and felt a moment's fear in his near-immortal soul.
'Yes.... they are all welcome to try.'
Mr. Welles was more than willing to admit that he possessed a number of character flaws. He was perfectly willing to accept the many things he had done in the name of a greater good, all the sins he had committed that would no doubt damn him forever. He might have lapsed now, but he had been a religious man in his youth and he knew full well the cost of the things he had done: torture of innocents, brutal suppression of dissidence, sending good people to die, turning a blind eye to murderers and sadists.
All in the name of humanity. All for the greater good. Not that these were excuses, merely what was.
He could feel everything beginning to collapse around him, and as he looked at the two men before him he could see the architects, willing or not, of that collapse.
'It is a pleasure to have you back with us, Ambassador,' said President Clark. He looked happy, as well he should. He had just been presented with a considerable victory. Humanity's worst enemy was now safely imprisoned and helpless. Clark was one of the most popular Presidents of all time, and no doubt his name would go down forever in the history books.
'We've missed you.'
