But the Minbari, what excuse did they have? None, save the accidental death of one man. None, save the pride and arrogance of their leader, Sinoval. None, save the determination to crush a people who had already lost everything they had ever had.
There would only be one victor at the Battle of the Second Line, and that would be the Shadows.
But… there was always hope…
Delenn was a Satai of the Grey Council, the chosen of Dukhat. Had it not been for the twist of fate that had thrown her into Sheridan’s path as he escaped his confinement on Minbar it would be she who now stood in the Hall of the Grey Council. For all that she had been gone for almost an entire cycle, she still had respect and power and the ears of the Grey Council. If they would listen to her, then this tragedy might be averted, as she had failed to avert a greater tragedy at Earth.
She had changed during her captivity among the humans – both physically and spiritually. Her chrysalis transformation might have been interrupted, and its results might be close to killing her, but she was still proof of what Valen had said – humans and Minbari were of the same soul. If she could show this to the Grey Council, then the tragedy might be averted.
She did not want to betray John. She sensed a destiny for the two of them – a feeling she had never known before, not even with Neroon. He was on the bridge of this new ship – the Parmenion – trying to hold back a Minbari onslaught and a Shadow involvement from destroying his own people. He was here as the tool of a Psi Cop who was playing his own game with billions of lives at stake.
Only minutes ago, John had told her that he did not trust anyone. How could he? He had been betrayed by the Government he had served for so long. He was forced to obey the orders of someone whose orders made no sense. He had been forced to kill his own wife, who had – possibly – been involved in his betrayal.
John had lied, but whether he knew he had lied or not, Delenn was not sure. He trusted her, even if he could not admit it, not even to himself. But he did trust her, and she was about to forsake that trust.
He had left her with access to the communications systems. They had been deactivated, but reactivating them was simple enough. Neroon and Draal had taught her many things, including communications. Human technology was, compared to the Minbari’s, primitive. She had reactivated them easily, and it would be simple to send out a message that the bridge would not intercept.
She took a deep breath, and winced at the pain in her chest. Breathing was becoming harder for her, and walking was difficult. Her whole body ached.
Her spirit ached too.
“Forgive me, John,” she whispered, knowing that he had no reason to do so. What had she done except betray him time and again?
But what were two lives compared with all the millions who would die if this did not end here and now?
She activated her message.
“This is Satai Delenn of the family of Mir, of the Grey Council. I am being held prisoner on this ship – the Parmenion. The Starkiller is captaining it. I must see the Grey Council now. Do you understand? I must see the Grey Council now.”
There. She stepped back. Some of the ships would free her from here, and she would be taken before the Grey Council. Then, she would be able to convince them of what she knew.
This would have to end.
“Forgive me, John,” she whispered.
“Forgive me.”
And Londo had thought being gassed, bombed, threatened and mystified was bad…
It seemed that ever since he had got involved in G’Kar’s conspiracy, people had been trying to kill him, gas him, blow him up, stab him, or shoot large holes in any spaceship he happened to be travelling in.
Fair enough, he admitted, most of the gassings, shootings, and attempted blowings up were the result of perfectly natural Centauri politics – promotion in the Royal Court largely tending in the direction of dead men’s purple boots, with very few questions asked about the nature of their emptying – and had nothing whatsoever to do with G’Kar. But then again, if it wasn’t for that blasted Narn and his blasted Ancient Enemy, then Londo would never have involved himself in politics in the first place, and he would spend his days quite happily living a pious and religious life. (Insofar as Centauri religion tended towards the drinking, eating, gambling, womanising and being very sick school of religion – probably on the theory that if you were going to be a deeply spiritual person, you might as well enjoy it.)
Ah, who am I kidding? Londo thought. I would have done this anyway.
But then, blaming G’Kar was much more fun than blaming himself.
After he had left Centauri Prime – supposedly dead – he had been helped aboard the warship Valerius, captained by his nephew Carn. Londo was not particularly happy at his nephew having chosen a life in the military, but he had been able to use his influence to get Carn posted to a ceremonial, showy type of ship, and therefore one not very likely to see much action.
Unfortunately, they’d neglected to inform the Narns of this.
Technically the Narns and the Centauri were at war. Well, technically and actually, but Londo had still found it irritating to be attacked by a Narn warship so far from the war zone. He had been on his way to Frallus 12, to rendezvous with a number of his sources and agents there, when they’d run into a Narn cruiser.
This is so absurd! he thought. I wonder if that Captain has any idea of who I am. If G’Kar knew about this, he would… If G’Kar knew about this… if G’Kar…
All right, so maybe G’Kar was a little hard to reach these days. His chief lackey in the Kha’Ri wasn’t.
He had managed to bully his way to a communications centre and had patched a very hurried message through to the Narn homeworld, using a special frequency and code G’Kar had made available to all in his little Circle of Light. His hopes for a reply had been slim, but he had definitely not been expecting the Narn captain himself to appear on the screen.
“Minister Mollari,” had said the Captain. “I am Warleader Na’Kal, of the J’Tok. It has come to my attention that we walk in similar circles.”
That was news to Londo. Did G’Kar have agents everywhere? “I suppose that we do,” he said carefully. “In gesture of our… similarities, how would you feel about stopping your attack?”
“Already done. I am loyal to G’Kar, and my crew are loyal to me. We have received word that the Enemy is active at last, and are engaging the Minbari in battle over Proxima. G’Kar has ordered us to try and assist the Minbari. He asks that you do the same.”
“Oh, great!” Londo muttered. His warrior days were long gone – had gone at Frallus 12, in fact, but still… A chance to rekindle old glories? Perhaps even a chance to put him back in his rightful position in the Royal Court? “I will see what I can do.”
“Do you have telepaths aboard?”
“I believe there may be one or two. Do you?”
“Yes, although he is not very strong.”
“Well, then. It looks as though G’Kar has done the impossible, and we’ll actually be fighting together, no?”
“Some things are more important than revenge, Minister. You have the co-ordinates for Proxima, I trust?”
“Of course.”
“Then I will see you there.” Na’Kal suddenly paused. “Are you a gambling man, Minister?”
Londo contemplated lying, but knew that would be pointless. “Yes.”
“Then what would you gamble that we destroy more of their ships than you do?”
Londo smiled. A Narn with something intelligent to say. That was rare. A Narn with a sense of humour…