But whenever it had started, whenever the first battle had begun, there was one thing all could agree on.
It will be over soon.
And so to Kazomi 7, they came.
The newly inaugurated Lord–General Carn Mollari knew little of the world of Kazomi 7. At least, he knew little that was not common knowledge. It was the centre of the United Alliance, a former Drazi colony, a crossroads between trade routes, that had been attacked and devastated by the Drakh in an unprovoked and brutal assault. From out of that period of nightmare and destruction, the Alliance had been formed.
Carn knew that his uncle, the High and August Emperor Mollari II, had played a part in that birthing, but little of the specifics. It was not something his uncle had ever liked to talk about.
He looked down upon the world. It did not seem much at all, really, but then the true wonder was not the planet itself, but what was above it.
Ships from countless different races. Drazi and Brakiri and Gaim and Llort and the Alliance's own ships - the Dark Stars. Carn noticed one or two Minbari warships, a few human capital ships. There was the fleet he had brought from Centauri Prime.
And there were the Narns as well, of course.
This was the largest war fleet every assembled in known history, and it was still growing.
"It will soon be over," he whispered to himself, merely repeating the refrain that was on everyone's lips - or whatever passed for lips in the case of some aliens. "It will soon be over."
But then he thought of his uncle sitting alone on his uncomfortable chair, and of the smiling human who always stood behind him, and Carn doubted very much whether it would soon be over. He doubted whether it would ever be over.
"So, this is it, hmm?" Carn turned, and bowed in the presence of Minister.... no, Ambassador now, Durano. The former Minister of Intelligence and now Ambassador to the United Alliance from the Centauri Republic. It was a glorious position. Durano was to be the voice of the entire Republic in matters of foreign affairs. It was a clear promotion....
So why did the whole thing stink of wrongness?
"It does not look like much, does it, Lord–General?" Durano asked. "But then I learned never to judge by appearances."
"As you say, Ambassador. The fleet, however...."
"Yes, the fleet. The largest ever assembled, or so we were told. Whatever power could gather this many races all together for one single purpose.... that sort of power should never be underestimated. There is a lot to discover here."
Carn turned as his personal aide came into the observation room. He was still unused to being in a position where he needed a personal aide. Kiron Maray had performed a similar function for the previous Lord–General, and he had done so with perfect efficiency. Carn had no complaint with his performance or intelligence, only that it seemed wrong, somehow. Carn did not feel like a Lord–General.
"Lord–General Mollari, Ambassador Durano, we have been invited to the surface to meet with the Alliance Council."
"We had better go, then," Durano said. "We would not want to keep the Council waiting."
Durano turned to leave, but Carn took one last look out of the window. Another ship moved into view, very near by. Carn's lips twitched into a wry smile. Na'Tok was here, then. The Narns were every much a part of the Alliance as the Centauri soon would be.
"I will see you down there, my friend," he whispered, to no one in particular. Then he followed Durano, ready to meet with the Council.
"You are a coward!"
There was little warmth in the rising suns, little light through the dark, cloudy skies. There was little comfort in the strong, foul–smelling breeze. There was little life in the dust–choked lakes that once had shone with light and beauty and colour.
Still, Kozorr looked out across the landscape before him, and smiled. He had come home now, and he was never going to leave it again.
"You are a coward and a weakling! You knew how to fight once! You can learn how to fight again!"
Minbar had once been a thriving and beautiful world, filled with ancient wonders and beautiful visions. Then the humans and the Drakh had come and rained poisoned fire from the heavens, searing the ground and destroying the air and turning all to death.
Kozorr had not been there to defend his world. He had spent that time in agony, with a broken and shattered leg, a flayed and mutilated hand and a cracked headbone, all injuries sustained honourably and nobly, although such a differentiation meant little to him these days.
They had left Minbar, under the guidance of the Primarch Sinoval the Minbari people had abandoned their ancestral home and taken to the stars. Now Primarch Sinoval was gone, disappeared, and the Minbari had returned home.
The poisons had faded, but not vanished. The air could be breathed, but not easily. The ground could be cultivated, but not without hours of back–breaking labour. The task was difficult, and would not be achieved in generations, but the first act of the new Grey Council had been to begin to restore Minbar.
Kozorr, once a warrior, now a worker by acceptance and marriage, had welcomed this task.
"Look at me! What has happened to you, Kozorr? You were a warrior once. How are you so blind now?"
He looked away, turning his back on that glorious sunrise, and found himself staring at Tirivail. Her eyes were filled with fury, and her bearing was one of absolute control over herself. She was a warrior.
She was more than a warrior. She was Satai. One of the new Grey Council. One of the three warriors. Her father, Takier, was another. The third position for the warrior was as yet undecided. Both Takier and Tirivail wanted Kozorr to take that position, but he would not stand there. He had stood in the columns of light once, a part of Kalain's ill–fated Grey Council, and he would not stand there again.
Besides, he was a warrior no longer.
"You are a coward," Tirivail spat again.
She looked glorious in her wrath, her eyes flashing. She was a true warrior. Once he had thought he had feelings for her, feelings beyond mere admiration of her beauty and her skill. Perhaps he still did feel for her, but he knew true love now, and beside that, what he felt for Tirivail was as a candle to a star.
"No, Tirivail," he said. "I am no coward." Once he would have called her 'my lady', but no longer. There was only one woman who merited that address from him now. "Indeed, I feel braver now than I ever have."
"It is her, isn't it?" Tirivail sneered. "You could have come with me, Kozorr. We could have ridden into battle side by side, flames lashing around us, weapons held high, glorying in triumph and victory after victory. You could have known me in battle and in love, and yet you turn to a weak worker, and she has made you a coward."
"Kats is not weak," Kozorr said. His visage was unchanged, but there was danger in his voice. Tirivail noticed it and took a slow step back. "She is not weak, and you know that. And all she has done to me is help me see the truth."
"No," Tirivail admitted, grudgingly. "She is not weak, I will give her that much. She is strong, for a worker. But she is not a warrior. You are."
"Not any more."
"We go to the greatest battle ever to be seen. We will ride to the gates of Sheol and cast open the doors. We will walk where only Valen himself once walked, and we will write new legends to last for the next thousand years! We will be the new Marrain, the new Derannimer, the new heroes for future generations. How long have we all dreamed of this....
"And you will remain here, hoeing fields and building bridges?"
"I would rather build a bridge than destroy one. I have had enough of war, Tirivail. I will not fight again. I will not kill again.... and I have no wish to be a hero."