“And so why am I continuing this war then?” he asked. “More pride, more selfishness, more anger? Well, tell me, Satai Delenn! Tell me!” He was shouting now, and she was visibly quailing from his verbal onslaught.

“No,” she whispered. “You are continuing the war because you do not know how to stop it.”

He stepped backwards slowly, a numbed feeling spreading through him. She was right, and he was right. Each of them was right about the other. That was precisely why their words hurt so much.

“And do you?” he whispered.

“No. I am afraid that I do not.”

Sheridan fished something out of his pocket and held it before her. It was the small metal triangle that he had taken from Delenn during her capture. She had called it a Triluminary, and had intended to use it to scan his soul. The Resistance Government did not know about it, and he was not sure why he had kept it.

Yes he did. It was important to her, and she was the closest thing he could find to a true kindred spirit in this whole damn life.

She met his eyes, her expression a mix of many things – fear, hope, despair. Slowly, he put the Triluminary away again.

“We should be at Euphrates soon,” he said. “I’ll have to return to the bridge.”

“Of course,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming, Captain.”

“It… was… a pleasure. My pleasure.” He looked at her and then left. He had to talk to G’Kar, and try and get some more answers from Zathras and try and find out what he could expect to find there.

He had expected that he would not be alone, but he had not expected what would be waiting there for him.

Someone else knew about the Great Machine.

Chapter 2

Alyt Kalain was, first and foremost, a warrior, and proud to be so. He still remembered the first day he had set foot upon the Trigati, the ship that was to become his home. It had been a moment of pride, and power and duty. He had knelt before the ship’s commander – Sinoval – and had sworn his loyalty. That had been over twenty-five cycles ago, and during that time Kalain had risen far. He now captained the Trigati, and had done so ever since Sinoval was raised to the Grey Council. Kalain had been a part of the climax of the jihad against the Earthers. With Sinoval watching, he had torn the heart from the Earth Alliance, enacting fitting justice for the murder of Dukhat.

His victory had been hollow, however. The memory of his glory over Earth had been forever tarnished by the memory of his shame over Mars. Kalain and the Trigati had been leading the attack on the Earther colony there, cleaning up after the destruction of Earth, when, tearing through the heavens like a demon creature from legend, there came a ship he would later know to be the Babylon, captained by John Sheridan.

The Babylon, acting on pure fury and little else, had torn apart the Minbari defences, and borne down upon the ship containing the Grey Council itself. Kalain had tried to respond, but his warrior nerve had left him at the sight of that ship, and he had panicked. Sinoval was before the Grey Council themselves, and the Trigati had been leaderless, standing by paralysed as Sheridan tore out the heart of the Grey Council. Two dead – one warrior, one religious – three more badly wounded and still sorely ill, mere shadows of their former selves. Sheridan had escaped, whatever fury had driven him giving way to the practicalities of common sense, and Kalain had been left to deal with his guilt.

He had tried to atone. In fact, he had tried suicide in penance, but Sinoval had found him, and stopped him. There were new days coming, Sinoval had said. He had been elevated to Satai in place of the dead warrior, and he would need a loyal cadre of followers. A new dawn was beginning, and the war must be the catalyst that swept away the old, and brought the Minbari back to their rightful place in the galaxy. Kalain had listened, and wept, and begged for forgiveness. Sinoval could not grant forgiveness, and he had told Kalain why:

I cannot forgive you, Alyt Kalain. Only the dead can do that. But you can forgive yourself. Let your deeds after this moment be enough to expiate your failure. Perform your penance for the sake of our people.

And Kalain had agreed. The Trigati, badly damaged during the war, had been rebuilt and strengthened, and made the new flagship for a new Minbari fleet. Kalain was proud once more, but this time for his people and not for himself. The Trigati was needed to replace the Dralaphi and to fight in the greatest war of all. Not against the Earthers, but against the Shadows.

Kalain had been told the full truth by Sinoval, one of a handful who knew. A ship belonging to the Ancient Enemy had been uncovered below the surface of Mars during the assault on that planet. It had tried to rise, and been destroyed. A second had been found on a moon belonging to the largest planet of their solar system. This one, the Enemy had returned for. There had been a bloody and devastating battle fought over Ganymede, a battle that had left four Minbari cruisers destroyed and hundreds dead. The Shadows were returning, and the Rangers were formed to meet them. The Rangers would need a flagship, and that flagship would be the Trigati.

Kalain knew Branmer – the former Ranger One – well. In fact, he had served Branmer during the war. Branmer had been a great man, but he had been too soft. He had not been strong enough to fight this war the way it should have been fought, and now he was dead, and there was no one to lead. Alyt Neroon, Branmer’s aide, was gone. Kalain was not a Ranger, and had no wish to lead them. That place belonged to Sinoval, as it now did.

Sinoval, now Entil’zha, had come to Kalain a few days before. He had spoken again of his dreams, and of his ambitions and of the part that Kalain would play in them. He had brought someone else along with him – an old, feeble man named Draal – a man who had taught all three religious members of the Grey Council. Draal had gone to Satai Lennann and had asked for his help on a matter of some importance. A mission to a desolate planet, to take two people – Draal and one other – and to leave them there. Those were the official details, but in private, Sinoval had mentioned something else. The planet was more than it seemed. There was power there, a power that could not be simply abandoned to an old man and a mysterious alien.

The planet the humans called Euphrates now had to belong to the Minbari.

And now that he was here, Kalain could only find one problem. Emerging from the skies again, a dark fury in its motion, a terrible beauty in its flight, was the EAS Babylon.

Aboard which would be Captain John Sheridan.

The Starkiller.

“It’s a Minbari cruiser all right, Captain,” Lieutenant Franklin said. “A big one.”

Sheridan groaned softly and looked down at G’Kar and Zathras. The Narn was standing patient and still next to Sheridan’s chair. Zathras was running about, examining things, and generally getting in everyone’s way.

“Have they seen us yet?” Sheridan asked.

“Almost certainly.”

“Fine. Power up forward batteries, and activate red alert. Launch Starfury squadrons Alpha and Delta and ready a fusion bomb.” Sheridan drew in a deep breath and sat back. The fury of battle was starting to rise in him now. He welcomed it gladly. There were few constants in his life, but battle was one of them. It was the one thing he did well, and the one thing he could do that mattered to anyone.

“Captain,” said G’Kar. “We do not need to fight here.”

“With all respect, G’Kar, they’re Minbari, and they’re doubtless after the same thing that we are. We don’t have time to debate the issue.”

“You have one of their Satai imprisoned on this very ship. Surely they will not open fire and risk killing her.”