looking directly at her. Could he see her in the shadows? Surely she was well enough hidden. She tensed her muscles, ready to move.
'Something wrong, sir?' asked the guard.
'No,' said the man. 'I just thought.... I saw a rat down there.'
The guard nodded. He looked a little nervous, and very overawed. 'Possible, sir. Would you like us to check and make sure?'
The man shook his head. 'No, forgive me. A little nervousness, that is all. Come, I do not want to be any more late than I am already.'
'Of course, sir.'
Talia did not breathe again until she could no longer see the light source. The voices began to return, but she closed them out.
Not long afterwards she found a way out of the catacombs. The exit was not guarded, but it was very well concealed. Still, she managed to stumble free, and the light of the sun on her face awoke her slightly. Looking around, she knew where she was, in one of the old mining domes, long since abandoned with the mineral resources all but played out.
Breathing slowly, she closed her eyes and thought of Al.
I have returned, in a sense. In another sense, the man who left this world has gone forever and an imposter come back in his place. An imposter with the blood of an innocent on his hands, a Minbari no longer, a warrior always but now also a priest.
There has never been any self-doubt in my life. I was master of my own destiny, lord of my own demesne. Let the priestlings babble about the divine will, and the placings of the universe. I was a warrior. I lived, I fought, I killed. I felt each breath in my body, each beat of my heart, and I knew I was alive!
Now.... I am not sure. I know what must be done. The Well of Souls told me some, but the rest I worked out for myself. I know what I must do. It will not be easy, but it is necessary, and I have never shirked from what must be done simply because it will be hard.
I have time. Enough time to.... prepare matters, to finalise certain things, to.... deal with certain situations that must be dealt with.
There will be those I leave behind. They must be ready.
Tarolin Two is a dead place for me now. I see my people around me, those who have called themselves my guards, those who have pledged themselves to my side. I wonder what they would say, if they only knew.
I admire many of these people. They have fought a war every bit as great as mine. They have rebuilt from devastation, they have forged new lives where I forged weapons, they have fought hunger and despair and suffering where I have fought the humans, and the Vorlons, and Sonovar.
Yes, I admire many of them, but for only one person here is there anything more in my heart than mere admiration or respect. She is the bravest, wisest, kindest person I have ever met. I know she will forgive me, her beautiful soul will not let her do anything else, but I wish more than anything else this were not necessary.
I look into her eyes, feeling the fear there. She has avoided me for many months, since Kozorr's.... betrayal. I do not blame her.
I tell her about what I have done, and she begins to cry. I want to hold her and comfort her, but I cannot. If I could feel love for any living being it would be for her, but I do not have that capacity. Another does, and it will be he who must share her life.
'This is my fault,' she whispers, her head bowed. 'He came to me.... The Primarch.... and he told me.... he tried.... to warn me....'
'You are not to blame, my lady. Her blood is on my hands.'
'I said I would be your conscience! I said I would.... guard your soul. I failed you.'
'No, I failed you, but that is past. I promise you, my lady.... I will make a better future, but I cannot do so alone. I need you at my side, my lady. I need you.'
She nods. 'Whatever you need me to do, I will do. My life is yours.'
'Your life belongs to no one but yourself. I have.... been distracted recently. I have broken one of the simplest rules of warfare: never fight a war on more than one front. Sonovar, the Vorlons, the Enemy, I thought I could destroy them all.
'Perhaps I can, but I will do so one at a time, my lady. First, I must deal with Sonovar. It was I who created him, I who ravaged this world every bit as much as he did. I will end this, and re-unite our people.'
Her eyes look at me with renewed hope. I smile to see it.
'And, my lady.... I will return Kozorr to you. That, I promise you.'
I am many things, few of them complimentary, but I have never been an oath-breaker.
I have many skills, and one of them is mastery of war. I know what to do to deal with Sonovar, and I swear by those who once swore to me.... I will do all I can to finish this.
The old man poured two glasses of orange juice and passed one over to his guest, who took it gratefully. He sat down and began to sip at it. Yes, it was definitely better. Whatever new processes had been applied to it, the taste was definitely improved. He preferred the all-natural flavour of course, but that was sadly impossible these days.
'I'm sorry I'm late,' said his guest, also sitting down. 'There was.... pressing business.'
'Yes, I heard. Has the declaration of war reached the Alliance yet?'
The guest made no sign of surprise at the information the old man possessed. He had got used to it by this time. 'Not yet. There are lawyers framing the exact terms and so forth. Media reasons and legal sophistry, you know how it is.'
'Oh, exactly. The timing is.... not bad, all told. I think we've more or less sucked Sector Three-o-one dry by now. Our little social crusaders have thrown up a few too many problems, and the underground telepath railroad running through there is going to fall apart very quickly, I fear. Ah well, we've done well enough out of the area.
'A pity though, I actually almost liked Mr. Trace. Such.... naked ambition, and complete lack of morals. On the other hand, all men need some moral centre, don't you think?' He took another sip of the orange juice. 'We all have a purpose we work towards, the greater good of the race.' The old man looked at his guest, who was still and unmoving. He sighed softly.
'Telepaths,' the old man said again. 'They're the key. Every war has.... some great strategic weapon, something that will turn the tide, and the side that gets that advantage is sure to win. It could be.... control of a trade route, an important river, perhaps a mine, or a piece of powerful technology.
'In this war it is telepaths, and whoever controls the most telepaths will win. It is that simple.' He finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. Rising, he stretched, and began to pace up and down.
'Miss Winters will no doubt have escaped by now. Let her escape, let her go running to Mr. Bester, and we will follow. We will find him wherever he has holed up and....'
The door opened and the old man turned, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he saw who it was. 'Mr. Morden, always a pleasure.'
'Likewise,' he said. 'I heard you had company, so I thought I'd.... make myself available.'
'Indeed. Well, Mr. Morden, I would like to introduce you to....'
The guest began to speak. 'Call me Wi.... Oh, that might be a little confusing, mightn't it?'
'A fine name,' the old man said with a soft smile. 'Well, you know who he is, anyway. This is Mr. Morden, a longstanding and valued employee and.... agent of mine.'
'A pleasure to meet you at last,' Morden said, smiling.
'Likewise,' said the guest. They shook hands.
It was victory of a sort, although as Captain David Corwin thought about the death toll and pondered the faces of those who greeted the victorious liberators of Beta Durani, he wondered whether this victory might not have been worth the winning.
He could see fear on their faces. Some cried out insults and hurled projectiles, but most merely watched, horrified, numb. Children were shaking and crying.
