G'Kael started. 'Are you suggesting we have allied ourselves with the Shadows?'
'The only Narn ships that have been attacked are those loyal to Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. I do not know why your trade routes and shipping lanes have been left safe, and I do not care. If any Narn ship comes to defend any area of human space, we will destroy it. The Kha'Ri can choose to be our ally, or it can choose to be neutral and pursue its own private war with the Centauri. It will not be our enemy.'
G'Kael's eyes darkened. 'I will tell them so.'
'See that you do. If they do not officially agree to lend solid military aid in this campaign, then you will no longer be welcome at military meetings. You are free of course to attend regarding domestic matters and issues of foreign policy, but if you are not our ally, I will not tell you anything you can use to inform the Shadows. Leave, now! Go and speak to your Government and tell them what I have just told you. When you come back with solid promises of aid, military or support-based, then you will be able to resume your position.'
G'Kael's anger was clear in his face, but he said nothing. He simply rose to his feet and left the room.
'Perhaps I should leave as well, Captain,' said G'Kar softly. All eyes turned to him.
Sheridan actually laughed, although it was a patently false chuckle. 'You, G'Kar? Of course not. You've been fighting the Shadows longer than any of us. I trust you.'
'But not my Government?'
'I have spoken to your Government, remember? There are snakes I would trust more. No offence, but until they come down firmly on one side or another I don't want to be within a million miles of any of them. They're going to have to choose what's more important to them; their personal vendetta with the Centauri, or the struggle to protect all civilised life in this galaxy.
'Anyway.... to return to what I was saying before. The Shadows' only major bases are the ones in human- controlled space. Proxima of course, but they also have a large military presence at the colonies of Beta Durani and the ruined Orion Seven. We're going to take them, starting as soon as possible. I have prepared a list of support ships, which has been presented to your aides. I will understand if your Governments cannot provide them all, but we will need every ship we can muster.
'The Shadows have tainted my people for their own purposes. A corrupt, power-hungry Government has embroiled the whole of humanity in this war. They are my people, and I am the one who brought them to this fate.
'I will not have it! Humanity will be free, and the Shadows will lose their major stronghold this side of the Rim. Then.... we will make for Z'ha'dum.
'Any questions?'
There was a brief moment's silence, and then a flurry of voices. G'Kar stayed silent, not because he had no questions to ask, but because he was afraid of the answers he would receive.
Sinoval walked through the ruined streets of his city. He showed neither remorse nor pain over what had happened here. True, it had been his decision to abandon Minbar and leave her open and vulnerable to the Earther fleet, but the planet had been indefensible by that time. Had he stayed, he would have lost both himself and the few ships under his command.
It had been over a year since last he had trodden here. He remembered it as it had been, broken, devastated, filled with the bodies of the dying and the dead. A humbling reminder that nothing was eternal, nothing was so strong it could not be broken, nothing so well built it could not be torn down.
There were no bodies here now, and some effort had been made to clear the rubble from the streets. He paused, deep in thought. Sherann had spoken of survivors being herded here by the Vorlons. He and Delenn had believed they had rescued everyone. And if they had not, then Sinoval's practicality had won out over Delenn's soft heart. Any who remained would die from the poisons in the skies and water, or from simple starvation, probably before they could be found.
But it appeared they had both been wrong. The Vorlons had worked their usual miracles here. The air was clean of poisons, if not of dust. The water was dull and muddy, but not acidic.
Sinoval could not work out why they would want to do such a thing. What purpose could they have for Minbar? Perhaps they intended to bring the Minbari back here, to bask in the glory of their victory.
He looked up and saw his destination, in gleaming domes and spires. The Temple of Varenni. One of the few buildings completely untouched by the bombing, thanks, so the people believed, to the benevolent presence of the Vorlon saviour within its walls. Sinoval put it down to strong foundations, and the safeguards incorporated there by its builders, many thousands of years ago. The power of the Starfire Wheel too was not something to be taken lightly.
He had spoken to the Vindrizi in Durhan's care, as well as to the Soul Hunters. No one knew the truth behind the Starfire Wheel or the Temple of Varenni. The Grey Council records indicated it was at least as old as the city, and probably older. It was even possible that Yedor had been built around the temple.
In the days before Valen, it was said, the leaders of warring clans had come to settle their disputes in the Starfire Wheel, each one willing to give his life that his clan be victorious. They had surely not invented the Starfire Wheel, merely harnessed its power.
And it had considerable power. No one knew exactly how it worked, but it somehow managed to amplify the radiation from Minbar's sun and focus it into one, powerful burst capable of destroying utterly anything that stood within it. Except, of course, those clever enough to provide shielding of their own. Sinoval gently patted the pike that hung at his side. Stormbringer had saved him before, with a few minor modifications. It would do so again, channelling its own energy to create a shield, so that the radiation slid past him.
He continued walking. The sound of his footsteps was the only thing that could be heard. Yedor was to all intents and purposes utterly dead. He wondered idly where the other survivors were, but then concluded that it did not matter. They were hiding no doubt, or imprisoned somewhere by the Vorlon. Sherann would find them if she could, and tell them that their deliverance was approaching.
Then she would do one other thing, one very important thing.
She would bring the Vorlon to its doom.
Sinoval did not know exactly where the Vorlon was, but he knew it was not in the Temple. Not yet, anyway. He had dispatched Soul Hunters there, to.... prepare matters. The Primarch was there also. A Vorlon soul was a rare and powerful thing. It would probably take someone with the power of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus to capture one.
Sinoval reached the Temple and stopped, looking at the vast doorway before him. There was a symbol engraved at the top of the archway. He looked at it, and started. He had seen that symbol many times before and not known what it meant, but now he knew. He had spoken to the Vindrizi about the Temple, and one of them had been here in a Minbari host, many thousands of years before.
It was a word in the Vorlon language. It was the symbol for a tomb.
Sinoval smiled, and then began to chuckle. How very appropriate.
He walked up the steps and entered the Temple, making for the Inner Sanctum and the Starfire Wheel. He touched Stormbringer, and felt through it the hum of the Well of Souls.
Today was a day that would be long remembered.
Dexter Smith's head ached. He knew that he was covered in bruises, and there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his side whenever he tried to breathe. Lights flickered in front of his eyes.
He could.... remember.... Pain, that was it, for the most part. And there was someone else, wasn't there? A woman. Where.... was she?'
He had woken up in a dark room, his whole body aching. He had called out for someone, anyone, and a few moments later someone — he thought it was a doctor — had come in and looked at him. The doctor had seemed reasonably satisfied, but he had given him an injection. He had not said a single word throughout the examination. At least the lights that had come on with his arrival remained on after he had left.
And after him, someone had arrived bearing food. He recognised nutri-glop when he saw it, but it had been a while since his last meal and he had eaten it quickly, albeit with a certain lack of enthusiasm.
And not long after that security guards had arrived, although he knew instantly that these were not the official Proxima Security Forces. Their uniforms were darker, and they were much too professional for Sector 301, or most other sectors come to that. He had also recognised the high-tech trank guns at their sides. They were the
