ships belonged to, they had to have a base somewhere. Why not in hyperspace? The asteroid seemed big enough for either an impressive force or very big aliens.
'Someone's in there,' he whispered to himself, not caring how he knew that, or remarking on the strange warmth of the armrest of his chair.
'All right,' he said at last. 'Prepare space suits. Muster a few security men. I'm going in there. I need a look around.'
The techs did not rush to disagree with him. Perhaps because they were curious, too. Or perhaps they did not wish to contradict the fearsome Shadowkiller himself.
Sheridan did not care either way.
There was something about him that chilled the blood, even to one as inured to fear as Morden. He had faced death, faced fear. He had seen Gods and fought Gods. He had been imprisoned — more than once — and he had seen a million rays of light rise in the face of a trapped man.
But he had never seen anything like this. Never.
It had been three days since the Emperor had collapsed and the rioting had been dispersed. Londo was still comatose. Hopes for his recovery were.... slim. Morden hoped he would recover. Partially this was due to an affection of sorts for Londo as a person, but there was also a pragmatic concern. He had not had enough time to build an effective power base of his own here yet. If Londo died there would be chaos, and no one wanted that.
Durla snapped to attention. He was doing well, Morden had to admit that. He had chosen well in appointing Durla Captain of the Guard. He had spent over a hundred days chained up in a cell and yet he had been ready to perform his new duties within hours of being released.
He was also the only person unaffected by the human at his side.
Morden had heard the name of course, but he had never seen him before. Very few had, not even the old man. He walked in the shadows, moving as the Vorlons dictated. He was their personal agent, assigned their most delicate tasks.
It was no wonder that he had been given this task.
Unlike the other Inquisitors Morden had met, this one did not wear the insignia. In fact he did not even wear the traditional robes. Instead he wore a very fine quality suit, of a style centuries old. The top hat had come back into fashion briefly when Morden was a child, and his father had owned a few, but no one he had known wore one as naturally as this individual. A small cane was held casually in his left hand, where immaculate gloves also rested.
'I trust this is important,' he said, his voice precise, dwelling on every syllable. It was a voice that commanded the attention of everyone who heard it. 'My time is too precious to be called away for every little problem.'
'Of course, sir.' Morden had settled on that as the appropriate form of address, and he had not been contradicted. The man did not have a title, but Morden knew he was ranked too far above him for first name terms to be acceptable. 'This is exactly within your purview.'
'Yes?'
'There is someone within our cells here you will wish to meet. We captured a Soul Hunter yesterday. He was found travelling outside the capital.'
'Ah.' Sebastian smiled, a chilling sight. 'You were entirely correct to call me. Lead on.'
'Yes, sir. This way.'
There were few things more magnificent to his eyes than an alien sunset falling across an alien city.
Yedor was thriving again at last, growing and rebuilding. Corwin looked at the parts of it he had had a hand in, and felt pride for the first time in many months.
When he was not working he liked to take long walks, to look at the sky, at the ground, at some of the buildings that had survived the bombardment. Sometimes guilt overwhelmed him on these walks as he was hit by yet another reminder of the things he had destroyed, but mostly they brought him happiness and wonder.
He had been here almost a year now, since Kats had found him during the Day of the Dead and convinced him to come with her. They had spoken much during the return journey, and she still sought him out sometimes. She was often busy of course, with her duties to the Grey Council and her travels to other worlds. She spent some time on Kazomi 7 and the new Babylon 5 station. Corwin did not ask her how things were there, and she did not tell him. He did not want to know.
Mostly they talked about each other. She spoke of her childhood and her parents, and in simple, loving terms, of her dead husband. When she did so, she unconsciously toyed with the beautiful necklace she always wore.
For his part, he told her about his family, about what it had been like growing up, about his dreams for the future. He spoke of Mary a lot. Kats listened, watched in silence as he cried, and said the right things in response — about immortality, and new chances.
There was something her husband had said to her once, that she repeated to Corwin. He had hoped the two of them would meet up again in a new life in a new world, ready to live another lifetime together free from the mistakes and hardships of this one.
Corwin noticed the way her eyes shone when she said this, and he knew that she believed it was possible. He doubted if it would come true for him, however. He was not even sure if he loved Mary the way Kats had loved her Kozorr. If he did, surely he would have tried harder to stop her leaving, or gone after her, or something.
He just did not know, and mostly he preferred not to think about it.
When Kats was away, as she was now, he went for walks. He had few other friends among the Minbari. Many of the workers knew him by sight, but none of them were close. They bowed to him as he passed and he nodded back, and that was largely it. Most of the warriors hated him, that was plain, and they muttered darkly in their own tongue whenever they saw him.
He heard things on his walks. He spoke most of the Minbari dialects well enough, and little rumours reached his ears. Many, particularly the warriors, spoke about Sinoval. Some seemed in favour of him, others not. There were whispers of 'Inquisitors', feared aliens who were seeking out those who had bargained with the Shadows. One of them had come here, it was said, but only one.
Aliens were regarded suspiciously during these conversations. The new Grey Council was trying to attract other races to their homeworld, and the number of aliens was growing slowly. However, some of them had been attacked and beaten by warriors, possibly on suspicion of being these Inquisitors. No one dared to touch Corwin, though. His strange friendship with Kats was common knowledge, and the warriors all seemed in awe of her, either because of her marriage to a warrior or through the respect accorded her by one of the Satai, Tirivail.
Regardless, Corwin let life outside pass him by. He buried himself in simple labour, and was content to live one day to the next, repairing some of the things he had done and taking satisfaction from that.
His walk took him past the Temple of Varenni and he looked up at the ancient building in wonder, as he always did. It was there, he knew, that Valen had returned to the Minbari. Some of the religious caste argued that Valen had left them again as punishment for their sins, and that he would return when they had atoned. Corwin, knowing full well that would not happen, passed on.
And then he stopped, looking back. The front gates of the temple were open, as they always were. There were people moving about inside, praying silently, lighting candles in memory of loved ones gone, talking quietly with one another. Most of them were Minbari, but there was also a pair of Narns wearing the Ranger sunburst symbol, a Brakiri, two Abbai....
.... and a human. Corwin frowned, not knowing that any other humans were here, certainly not in this part of Yedor. He stood on the steps of the temple, still staring in. It was a woman, wearing a long grey hooded cloak. It was pulled far enough forward that most people would not have been able to tell her race, but from the way she was moving, the way she was sitting, everything indicated to Corwin that she was human.
She was also oddly familiar.
She was talking in hushed tones to a Minbari warrior, which was also strange. The warriors hated humanity and barely tolerated even Corwin.
Slowly, drawn by something he could not understand, Corwin began to walk up the steps. He caught a glimpse of black hair beneath the hood, framing a firm jaw. He knew he recognised her now, but who could he know
