Once he had been one of the most respected nobles in the Centauri Republic, the Lord-General of their armies and their fleets. His name was feared by his enemies and respected by those who followed him. He was fair, but icily efficient and determined. He was a man who well understood the value of inspiring fear in the hearts of those who opposed him, and he possessed a necessary ruthlessness.
Now he was a broken man, harsh with the pain of his own tears, seeing ghosts in every movement. His crew had fought this battle without him. He had been trying to restore a young girl who had taken her own life. A girl he had struck in a single moment of madness and anger.
His head in his hands, Jorah Marrago did not see Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, enter the room.
'My friend,' he said softly.
Marrago looked up. Through eyes scarred by pain and horror, he saw the tall, dark form of his ally. Sinoval's deep eyes seemed to radiate compassion, an odd emotion for him to display. Marrago was not even sure if he was real.
'You cannot bring her back, can you?' he whispered.
'No,' Sinoval said sadly. 'Her soul has passed beyond. A.... residue remains here, in the place where she died. You could talk to her if you wished, but all that remains is her fear and her anger, and I do not think you would want to listen to what she had to say.'
'I was not talking about Senna,' he rasped, harshly. 'Did we win? Tell me we won.'
'That depends who 'we' are. Centauri Prime is as safe as it was yesterday, which is to say, not very safe at all. Those of the Brotherhood who survived fled here with me. A safe haven I spent some time finding. I will have to talk with the leaders, find those who wish to fight alongside me, find those who do not deserve to continue. I would appreciate your advice in this, my friend, but I will understand if you are.... incapable of that at present.'
'What about the plan?'
'I had to move more swiftly than I would have preferred. I fear that too many of my plans are now in the possession of the enemy. My little castle of wood and paper is in great danger of collapsing around me, and I must be ready as swiftly as I can. I feel....
'Sometimes, recently, I think I can feel a great darkness, as if millions of voices are crying out in fear, all at the same time.'
'I feel like that all the time.'
Sinoval nodded. 'I see. I am sorry for your loss.'
'No, you aren't, and why should you be? You never knew Senna, you never knew a thing about her, or Lyndisty. I was a leader once too, remember. You cannot think about those you are sending into battle, or those they love, or those they depend on. Think of each soldier as a real person and you are doomed from the outset.
'I know that, and yet.... I cannot think of anything else. Senna was just another victim of this war. She ended her life in pain and fear. She knew rape and torture and complete powerlessness until it came to be that her only freedom was the freedom to end it all.
'I should not care. I should just move on, channel any grief I have into revenge and pour it against my enemies, but I can't. I simply can't forget her.'
'Nor should you.' Marrago looked up. Sinoval's face was as stone. 'That is my task. I will talk to the captains of the Brotherhood. I will learn those whom I can trust or intimidate — those who will serve me.'
'None of them. Kill them all. Kill all of us. We are all monsters.'
'My friend.... that is precisely what I need. Do you.... do you want to leave my side? I can take you almost anywhere in the galaxy. You have done enough already. You have paid enough already. You can depart now, and I will not think any the less of you.'
'My price?'
'I know. I have known for months. One of my agents died to retrieve the information you requested. Worse than died, in fact. But I have the knowledge. I kept it from you for fear you would embark on a private crusade rather than pursue my own goals. Do you hate me for lying to you?'
'No. I should, but.... I can't feel anything.'
'Morden. The name you asked of me is Morden.'
'He killed Lyndisty.'
'Yes.'
'What good will it do? His death will not restore her life. Is there anything I can do that will.... that will alleviate this?'
'I do not know. I have never known grief such as yours. I do not even know if I am capable of it. I would like to think I would do what must be done, but I cannot be certain. None of us can.'
'I need to think. I.... I need to think.'
'Take all the time you require.'
'Wait!'
'Yes.'
'The Shadow alien. The Z'shailyl. Moreil, his name is.'
'Yes.'
'Don't trust him. Not even for a second. Him least of all.'
'Thank you. I won't.'
'You are welcome.'
It was just beginning to get dark when Sheridan began his walk through Yedor. His journey had been long and restless. He had tried to sleep, but he had managed only a few moments. He should be tired, but all he could think of was the purpose of his journey. He had to carry on now and finish what he had begun.
The night sky was a blazing red as the sun set. The dust in the air clouded everything, but it seemed to glow and shine. He was not sure if it was beautiful or terrible, but perhaps it was both.
The rebuilding of Yedor was continuing well. The architects seemed to be restoring the old where they could and creating the new where they were inspired. The Temple of Varenni dominated the glowing skyline, tall and majestic and.... somehow impervious to the atrocities of mortals. He was reminded of an old photograph from the Second World War, of London being relentlessly bombed and the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral rising above the smoke and the flames.
What was that speech? Something about, 'If they destroy it, then we will rebuild it. And if they destroy it again, then we will rebuild it again, as many times as is necessary.'
Something like that. The sentiment was there.
He walked on, noticing others moving about in the cool of the evening. Most were Minbari of course, but there were a surprising number of aliens present as well. Some Drazi, their normally furious faces a little calmer here. Some Narns, proudly wearing sunburst badges. Even a few humans, walking quickly, heads bowed.
He was not sure where he was going. David was here somewhere, helping to rebuild. He would probably be where the largest construction site was, unless they had finished work for the day, in which case he could be anywhere. Sheridan was content to drift and trust to fate to shepherd him in the right direction.
He had a feeling he was walking away from the centre of the city when he came across a Minbari woman sitting on a large rock, watching the sky with a contented air. She was small and slightly built, wearing a plain robe stained by dust and labour. There was a strange look in her eyes, a look of understanding. Sheridan remembered meeting the Dalai Lama, decades ago, millennia ago. He had had that same look. The look of a person who knows where he or she belongs in the galaxy.
He was about to move on past her when she looked squarely at him. 'A good evening, General Sheridan,' she
