another....
<You are all traitors.>
The Vorlon's encounter suit was white, bone–white, a sickly, nauseous pallor. G'Kar looked at it and felt its shadow fall over him.
In that instant he was transported back an entire lifetime. He was a child staring up at the sky, watching as a fleet of Centauri warships passed overhead. Darkness swamped him, and he felt so very, very cold. He had never seen a live Centauri, not in the flesh, and he had imagined them as monsters, lurking hidden in the corners of rooms, or just on the edge of his vision.
That sight had changed his mind, and imprinted itself in his childish memory. The Centauri were powerful and massive and colossal. They moved in the heavens and they did not care about the insects who withered and died in their shadow.
That belief had changed as he fought the Centauri, came to understand them, and even befriended one. But that one, single impression, that had remained with him.
He felt it again now.
<There is a price for treason.>
Taan and Kulomani had reacted first of course, being trained warriors. Taan had reached for his PPG, Kulomani for his commlink. The Vorlon watched impassively as Taan fired the first bolt. The armour, that now seemed not so much the white of long–dead bones, but the brilliant, infinite, bottomless white of a new–born star, absorbed the impact with chilling ease.
<By your own actions are you condemned.>
The encounter suit began to open.
G'Kar did not bother to look round, in part because he knew he would not be able to tear himself away from that image, but also because there was nowhere to go. This room had only one exit, and the Vorlon was standing directly in it. Kulomani's commlink was not working, as G'Kar had suspected.
If he had thought he could say something, or do something, take any action, he would have done it, but he understood the futility of his position. This had to happen. By all rights he should be dead anyway.
His own words came back to haunt him.
They were stronger together than they were apart, but that was still not enough.
Lethke moved forward, deliberately placing himself between the Vorlon and Taan Churok. The Drazi swore at him, but Lethke did not seem to notice. G'Kar doubted that his friend could hear anything, standing bathed in that light.
'Please,' Lethke said. 'Please....' The word was pitiful, a sob, an admission of utter powerlessness. Lethke, a diplomat, a nobleman, a Merchant–Prince of Brakir, was discovering what G'Kar had first learned that one day so many decades ago.
Just what it meant to be helpless.
'Let us try for peace,' Lethke sobbed. 'It's what I've always worked for....'
The Vorlon's terrible voice spoke, chill and final, although there was now not even the flashing of the eye stalk to give it some semblance of emotion.
<There is no mercy for traitors.>
The light filled the room, and Lethke's body was thrown backwards. G'Kar knew he was dead even before he left the floor. What struck the far wall was a charred, smoking corpse, a twitching heap of ash and blasted bones.
One of Lethke's dead eyes was looking directly at him, but G'Kar could not tell if it expressed pity or blame.
Kulomani reacted next, grabbing his PPG to join Taan. Both of them fired, neither afraid. Their blasts were merely absorbed by the flashing mass of light that the Vorlon had become. It was massive, truly huge, too big by far for the room. One tentacle struck a wall, which shattered with a crack and the smell of burning metal.
G'Kar shifted his gaze to G'Kael, who had also reacted quickly, dropping down under the table and rolling behind a makeshift barrier of chairs. He looked up at G'Kar and then at the hole in the wall. Above them lights danced and whirled as the Vorlon swam sinuously in the air.
G'Kar could see the muscles tense in G'Kael's body, and then, with careful timing, he sprang for the hole, scrabbling through it in one smooth motion schooled by years of careful preparation. G'Kar knew about life amongst the Kha'Ri, especially what it took to be their spymaster. G'Kael had always taken pains to be ready for just such a situation. He was as physically fit as it was possible to be.
A tentacle curled around his waist in mid–air and jerked him backwards. His head struck the ceiling with impossible speed and with the sick sound of bones crunching and veins exploding, his body dropped to the floor at G'Kar's feet, limp and all but decapitated.
Taan Churok had tried to run for the door as this was happening, continuing to fire as he ran. One part of the Vorlon's vast, serpentine bulk lowered itself on to him, and as it touched him bolts of lightning crackled through it, and through him. His PPG exploded, there was a burst of light and energy, and he fell to the floor, a blackened, smoking hole in his chest.
The table flew backwards into Kulomani, smashing him into the far wall. G'Kar heard the sound of fifty bones breaking in unison, and Kulomani slumped, his mouth filled with blood.
Durano remained, standing quietly a few paces back from where he had been sitting, his hands folded behind his back. With a complete absence of terror G'Kar did not know whether to admire or fear, he said calmly:
'May I remind you, sir, that I am a lawfully appointed Ambassador of my Government and am as such subject to all the rules regarding fair trial and due process.'
The Vorlon's body continued to swirl and swim. The voice that came from it was almost screaming.
<Your laws are nothing. Our laws are all that matter.>
Two tentacles curled around Durano.
The Centauri blinked once, and then died.
G'Kar could feel the Vorlon looking at him.
<We have many laws, but the first is the simplest.>
One tentacle waved menacingly in front of his face. G'Kar could feel the heat of the energy radiating from it, the sparks of electricity shooting through the room.
<We are your Masters, and you shall have none other before us.
<You will obey us.>
