"You do not see, Delenn. Oh, I am sure you believe that, but you are blind. All of you are. You fight this war, and you will win. The Shadow will be gone, but another will be cast over you, one greater and more powerful than the last, all the more so because it will look like the light. You will win, Delenn, and doom yourselves in doing so."
"The Vorlons are not the Shadows. They are not our enemies."
"They sent you to die, Delenn."
"They had their reasons."
"Yes, they did. They are not your friends. They are a greater threat by far than the Shadows could ever be."
"Then help us! Help us defeat the Shadows! Help us create a better world without the Vorlons! You have power, great power. So use it!"
He shook his head. "You do not understand."
She rose and turned. There was nothing more to say. She was angry, and the sound of her own heart beating pounded loudly in her ears, an echo of another heart, one much weaker, just behind it. "It is strange," she said finally, as she left. "The Vorlons say the same thing. I think we all understand much more than either of you gives us credit for."
Vejar said nothing. The beating hearts almost deafened her as she left.
Delenn knew what G'Kar was going to say. She had listened to him in the months since her return, listened to his pain and his grief. She had seen the battles between the Narn and the Centauri. She had felt G'Kar's anguish over watching his people fight to the death against his oldest friend.
And it was all the worse because the war was being fought in his name. A jihad. A holy war.
She thought of the Blessed Delenn and a dark cloud passed over her.
There was no other option. G'Kar had to go to Narn, had to go to the Kha'Ri himself. He had to tell them.... to tell them.... to show them that there was another way, that the war must end now.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked softly, looking at him across the table. He would be, she knew that, but she had to ask.
"Yes," he told her. He paused, deep in thought, and she nodded. The war had to be finished. The Shadows had to be defeated, yes, but not at this cost. This was only performing their task for them.
"I have waited too long," he continued, "afraid to confront my own errors. But now there is no time for fear, and no more time to wait." Delenn knew there was something G'Kar could not say, something he wished very much to keep to himself, something G'Kael and Na'Toth were also hiding. She did not pry.
"The war will soon be over," he whispered. "But what will the peace bring?"
"It will bring what we make of it, surely," Delenn said, hoping she could believe her own words.
"So there will still be no rest." G'Kar shook his head and rose from his chair. "I have missed you, Delenn, those long months you were gone." It seemed for an instant as if he was going to say more, but then he stopped himself and paused, beginning again a moment later.
"I am glad you have returned to us, Delenn. I wish we had more time together."
"As do I, but we will see each other again, G'Kar."
"Will we? I wish I had your faith. Sometimes I think.... a dark cloud is putting out the lights all across the galaxy. There are very few left shining now."
"The war will soon be over."
"That was not what I was referring to." She shivered.
It was of necessity a meeting that had to be held in private. It was not that either of them did not trust the other, but that both were very much aware of the shadows that lurked everywhere, darkest and most terrifying where it seemed to be lightest.
Vizhak and Taan Churok had never been close. On opposing factions during the last transitional period, a mutual animosity had arisen between them. Vizhak was a career politician, a man willing to work for the good of his people, to represent the Drazi abroad and to profit them all from his actions. Taan Churok was a bartender, a man interested only in his own concerns, but who had been forced by fate to take a more active hand.
However, as the Drazi representatives on the Alliance Council they had been forced to work together, and a tentative alliance had arisen, although it had taken far longer for these members of the same race to learn to trust each other than it had those of radically different peoples.
"When did you return?" Vizhak asked. It was he who had been invited here, and the unfamiliarity of it irritated him. He was no stranger to intrigue, but his experiences had largely been of the legitimate world. It had been something of a revelation to learn that criminals could evade and conceal just as much as politicians.
"Returned yesterday," replied Taan. "Came in secret. Not want others to know. Not yet. Time not right."
"How is homeworld?"
"Wounded. Streib attack bad. Very bad. We live still, but many dead. Too many dead."
"No help from Dark Stars?"
"None. Dark Star fleet too busy to aid us. We were here from start, but no aid for us. And more. Orders from Sheridan. More ships are needed. More soldiers to go and die somewhere else. More deaths while homeworld suffers."
"Delenn is back now. Talk to her. She understands."
"Not Delenn that is problem. Sheridan. Vorlons. Everywhere we look, Vorlons are."
"Still, talk to Delenn. She will help."
"No! You think she will help us, when her lover will not? She wants war over. She grieves for dead, yes, but they are still dead. And behind her, are Vorlons, yes."
"Then what do we do? Cannot leave the Alliance."
"Some at home say just that. But no, not yet. We need watch, and learn. And wait. Watch for Vorlons. There are.... ways, things that can be done. Talk to technomage. Vorlons be just as bad as Shadows. If Alliance is to hold, if Drazi are to survive, then Vorlons need to be defeated."
"We cannot war with Vorlons."
"No. Another can. We find Sinoval. He will help."
The shadows twitched around them. Neither noticed.
A million sparks of light flitted from world to world. Somewhere, in a place beyond any mortal comprehension, decisions were made, conclusions reached, consensus achieved.
Wait until the war is over. Then the Drazi will learn what it means to challenge us.
Wait.
Such was the way of the Vorlons.
Time passed. On Proxima 3, General Edward Ryan was murdered. In his secret hideout, Sonovar set himself on the road that would destroy him, as he schemed with Forell. On Centauri Prime, Lord Kiro waited, and plotted, and fed his monstrous son.
And for a few days there was motion - frantic, terrible motion. Ryan's murderer was found. Sonovar attacked the shipyards at Greater Krindar and was defeated. Morden arrived on Centauri Prime.
And a black cloud left a hidden world that the Shadows had claimed millennia ago, a black cloud aiming for Kazomi 7.
The old man sat down on his chair and looked at his companions. The Round Table had been hastily assembled. Some were absent of course, but there were enough here.
In a simple, matter–of–fact voice, he explained that the murderer of General Ryan had been located and interrogated. He was merely a tainted agent, primed for this one mission, his objective to cause chaos and distract from the main concern. He was to be handed over to Proxima Security in such a way as to not draw undue attention to where he had come from.
One of the Knights sat forward. In a clipped tone, he asked what other matter was this agent distracting everyone from.
The old man's reply was simple. The utter destruction of Kazomi 7.
More than one Knight inquired what action was to be taken.