A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Prologue : The Missing Year

Free Centauri Prime.

It was the beginning of an alliance, a new alliance. A small one admittedly, only three at present, but then a night of a thousand drinks begins with a single sip. Marrago had heard a similar human phrase about miles and steps, which he preferred.

A Minbari, a human, a Centauri, and a flying castle full of Soul Hunters. Perhaps not such a small start after all.

And it would only grow.

Marrago was a tactician and he understood that not everything can be achieved at once. Sinoval understood that as well. It would take time, and in any case this was not a war of force of arms, but a war of ideas and beliefs and understanding.

But there were some similarities in both types of war. They both needed people.

Sinoval had said he would be busy elsewhere, but Marrago knew exactly what to do. He approved.

Mercenaries were easy to find these days. The entire galaxy had been at war for years, and a sudden outbreak of peace was very bad for professional soldiers. All manner of different people, of all different races and armies, were looking for work. Narns would not work for Marrago of course, and nor would many Drazi, but there were some.

It had taken a couple of months, but he had assembled a ten — strong unit, useful for hire as security, bodyguards and the like. Six of them were Centauri, with one Drazi, two Brakiri and a human. A small group, but a good beginning.

'You can…. find things, yes?' the alien was saying, twitching its forelimbs slowly. 'Things that…. need finding?'

'We can do that,' Marrago replied. 'We need to know what it is, and a rough estimate of the risk involved, before we can set a price, of course.'

'It is…. a delicate matter. A data crystal, with…. valuable information…. of a not altogether legal nature.'

'I see. And what can you tell us about where it is now?'

'I had to leave Istakhr Station in rather…. awkward circumstances. An individual named Stoner took the crystal…. for safe keeping. He has…. vanished. Find him…. and the crystal, and bring the crystal to me.'

Marrago nodded. 'We can do that.'

'And the price?'

'Will be reasonable. We can discuss that later.'

'I am not a fool.'

'I never believed you were, n'Grath. I hope to do business with you again.'

And the price would be reasonable again, Marrago thought. n'Grath was a prominent crimelord, with influence in all sorts of places. He would be a useful ally. It was well worth losing a few ducats here for potential advantage later.

Marrago actually found he was enjoying this new life. No politicking, no dancing around, fearful of saying the wrong thing. All he had to do was complete the commissions he won, build an alliance and an armed force, and stay true to those who served with him.

He found he missed only two things: his garden, and his daughter.

His garden could be rebuilt, and as for Lyndisty…. well, she would not be returning to him, but she would be avenged before this was over.

She would be avenged.

* * *

Although there had been many rumours of the existence of the sinister Vorlon 'enforcers' known as the Inquisitors, there was no confirmed report until 2259, when Kosh Naranek sent an Inquisitor called Charles Dexter to Kazomi 7 to test the loyalty of John Sheridan and Delenn. Many authorities now believe this to have been a subtle attempt by Kosh to warn Sheridan and Delenn about the true nature of his brethren, but if this is so, the warning, like so many others, went unheeded.

The presence of Charles Dexter was not common knowledge at the time, and the existence of the Inquisitors only became public in 2262. Contrary to popular belief this did not happen on Centauri Prime, where their actions would attract much notoriety and revulsion, but on Minbar. The individual concerned was to become one of the most notorious and feared Inquisitors across the galaxy. He did not pursue the same objectives as his fellows, who were largely dedicated to tracking down those who had collaborated with the Shadows during the war. His purpose was different, and involved tracking down one single person.

The Inquisitor's name was Sebastian, and the Vorlons had given him the most difficult mission of his long career, but one they saw as of the utmost importance.

GOLDINGAY, D. G. (2293) The Unholy Inquisition. Chapter 8 of The Rise and Fall

of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the Beginning of the

Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer, G. Boshears, A. E.

Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.

* * *

'Where is he?'

Pain. No screams. She had long ago given up screams, of pain or otherwise.

There were no screams, but there was pain.

'Tell me where he is.'

More pain. Light and fire blazed in her mind. Whispers fluttered through her hearing, brief images, feelings from long ago. The touch of his hand on hers. The warmth of his breath on her face. The sheer love in his eyes.

'I do not care how worthy or unworthy you are. I do not care on whatever pedestal you choose to place yourself. I do not care whether you believe yourself to be holy, a messiah, a prophet to bring glory to your name. I do not care what your name is. I do not care who you are. All these things will be attended to by another, in due time.

'For now, I have one mission and one mission alone. That is the only thing I do care about. I came here because you were his closest friend, the one he trusted most, the one he risked a great deal to save. Maybe he even loved you a little, if he is capable of such a thing.

'So, I ask you again.

'Where is Primarch Sinoval? Where has he gone? Where has he hidden himself? What does he plan? What allies does he have? Who are his agents?

'Where is he?'

Again the light burned. The old memories were at the back of her mind, the things that woke her in the middle of the night, trembling and shaking, unshed tears in her eyes.

Kalain was dead, had died in agony of a fatal virus almost two years ago. She had laid him to rest in her memories long ago, silently forgiving him for the tortures he had inflicted on her soul and her body.

But somewhere, at the back of her mind, he still lived, still strong and powerful and capable of hurting her so much. Still strong enough to emerge now, as she was tortured again.

'You dare to come here,' Tirivail had spat at the human as he had presented himself to the Council. 'You dare to insinuate these things!'

The human appeared to be formally dressed, but in a style none of them recognised. He spoke Minbari flawlessly, with an archaic, stylised accent.

'My name is Sebastian,' he had said. 'I am an emissary from the Vorlons. This you know. I am here on their behalf to seek any information you may have on the whereabouts of the one known as Sinoval the Accursed. I am here to question those of you who knew him best. Satai Kats, the former Satai Kozorr.'

'Kozorr is dead,' Tirivail had replied. Kats had said nothing. Tirivail had not adjusted well to Kozorr's death,