'Workers…. die…. You…. must….'
He forced her hand up, crushing her fingers on to the hilt. His foot lashed out against her knee and she gave way, crashing backwards to the floor, but still she maintained her hold on the knife. She could feel him rising over her, bending the knife downwards.
'Minbari do not kill Minbari,' she whispered, a great dizziness sweeping over her. 'Listen to me, Ashan. Please…. fight it….'
'I can't. It says…. It…. says….'
'Listen to yourself. Minbari do not kill….'
The knife slid downwards a little further. 'I…. can't…. I…. I….'
He suddenly jerked his hands, forcing the knife upwards. Kats, unable to free her hand from the hilt, added unwitting momentum.
She felt the knife slide into his chest and heard a slight gurgle. His fingers fell stiff and she was able to wrench her hand from the hilt, but not before his blood poured over her fingers.
She rolled aside just in time to prevent his body falling on her.
For a moment there was a still nothingness, and then the pain from her injuries hit home in one shocking burst and she cried out under the onslaught. The full horror of what she had done engulfed her. 'Ashan,' she whispered. 'Ashan. Are you…?' It was useless. He was dead.
'I'm sorry,' she breathed. 'I'm….' She closed her eyes and rolled over, climbing to her hands and knees. 'No. You're not here. I know you're not here.' She crawled forward, wincing from the pain of the wounds on her arm and body.
'Z'ondar!' Light filled the room as a door was thrown open and a figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. It moved forward with a gait she had never seen before. It raised a weapon that looked very much like a fighting pike.
It hissed out words in a twisted, sibilant language she did not recognise. 'Z'ondar,' it then said again. The word was Minbari, but one which she did not know. 'Z'ondar.'
Shaking, she managed to climb to her feet. 'Who are you?' she asked softly. 'I am Kats, of the worker caste of the Minbari. I…. I mean you no harm.'
It began clicking and a strange expression passed over its alien face. 'Do you…. revere the Z'ondar?' it asked haltingly, in an erratic worker caste dialect. 'Do you remember…. his ways?'
'Who is the Z'ondar?'
It hissed something in its own language and darted forward, raising its weapon. It looked angry, very angry. Kats tried to avoid its attack, but she was too weak. She fell backwards, landing on Ashan's body.
Something beneath her hissed.
The alien's charge suddenly stopped and it dropped its weapon. Black ichor spilling from its eyes, it fell face forward on to the ground, a sharp knife sticking from its back.
'My lady?' asked a voice from the door. 'Are you all right? I…. I can't see you.'
'Kozorr,' she whispered. 'I am here.' She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt.
'My lady.' He moved forward awkwardly, and his shape was soon lost in the darkness. 'Talk to me, Kats.'
'I am here. I….' She coughed. 'What has happened? What is…?' She could hear once again the hissing sound from beneath her. A strange warmth began to rise beneath her neck. Breathing out sharply, she rolled aside, and was stopped by strong hands.
Kozorr helped her rise. 'I heard that Ashan had brought you here, my lady. Some of the…. survivors managed to direct me.'
'Survivors?' she said, clinging to him tightly. She did not feel capable of standing on her own. 'What happened? I…. remember meeting with Callenn and Ashan and then…. something fell on me and I…. I woke up here. He said he was going to kill me.'
'He is dead. It was a fine blow. Worthy of a warrior.'
'I'm not a warrior, though! I never want to be one. That…. that was the first time I've ever killed anyone.'
'You have a strong heart, Kats,' he said, his voice almost breaking. 'Come…. see what has happened.'
He helped her out of the room, and she looked at the utter devastation around her.
She felt like weeping.
Ta'Lon felt for the presence of his sword, as he would check on the security of an old friend. This whole place felt wrong to him, and he was experiencing a growing fear for the life of the one man he had sworn to follow unto death.
He had been a soldier during the occupation. The sight of the casual torture and murder of his family and mate had driven him into a peculiar form of insanity and he had dedicated his life to the destruction of the Centauri. Disdaining any long-range or high-technology weapons, he had taken the katok his grandfather had forged and sworn to use it as his instrument of vengeance. He had fought for almost the entirety of his adult life with only his sword. It was both weapon and constant companion: his only friend.
When the Centauri had withdrawn he had been bereft of purpose, wandering idly, picking fights, seeking mercenary employment. Some of the tasks he had been commissioned for had been neither ethical nor legal, but he had done them anyway, neither caring nor knowing anything else.
And then he had met Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. He had been hired to assassinate the prophet by one who preferred to avoid the expense or the rules of the Thenta Ma'Kur. G'Kar had awoken to see the assassin standing over him, sword held ready. He had spoken nine brief words:
'Is this the purpose that sword was made for?'
Ta'Lon had broken down in tears and the two had talked all night. G'Kar's wisdom had awed him, and by dawn he had sworn himself to the prophet's side. He was not the first Ranger, but perhaps he was the first true Narn Ranger.
From that day to this he had always known he would give his life for G'Kar, but now he was accepting the revelation that he might have to do more than just die for the prophet. He might have to live for him.
Satisfied that the sword was still there, he turned to look at his companions. Six Narn Rangers, all men he had chosen and trained personally. He knew he could count on them. There were two humans present as well, neither of whom he was entirely sure of: Garibaldi, who worked for G'Kar's old ally Bester, a man he had been suspicious of from the beginning and still doubted today; and Dr. Kirkish, who had been studying the Machine in detail, again for Bester.
Something was definitely wrong. They should have been met by guards by now. Where were they?
'Be careful,' he warned his Narns. He was speaking in his native tongue, one he had always felt proud of. The Centauri had not been able to eradicate it, and joy at its salvation led him to use it wherever possible. 'Watch out for the humans. I am not sure I trust them.'
'As you say,' came the reply. He smiled. Good men.
The Heart of the Machine was before them now, almost. Ta'Lon reached to draw his sword, and then he stopped. Once drawn, it could not be sheathed without shedding blood, and he would not dishonour this place with a weapon unless he had to. He had enough time.
He rounded a corner and entered the hall wherein lay the Heart of the Machine. He stepped forward, and smiled to see his mentor and leader safely within. He stepped further inside and walked up to the Heart itself, stopping some paces from it, and kneeling.
'Forgive me, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar,' he said formally. 'We feared for your safety. No one from the station has been able to contact you.'
'There is no need to worry,' said the voice of his leader. 'No need at all. Everything is going fine.' Behind her mask of light and mirrors, Donne smiled.
