Delenn was laughing as well, although her laughter was interrupted by frequent bouts of wheezing. “A cat?” she said. “I do not think I have ever seen a cat. We have some animals on Minbar, though, which seem similar. We call them goks.”

“Goks?”

“Yes.” He was certain she was smiling. He could practically see her face lighten as she did so. “I think they are an effort made by the universe to ensure we never take ourselves too seriously.”

“You might be right,” he agreed. “Well, it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yes. I told a story, so now you have to.”

“I… oh. I do not know anything like that…”

“It doesn’t matter. Anything. Your childhood, your family, your friends. Anything.”

“I… oh… very well, then. When I was a child, my father was often away, and I was taught by Draal. One day he was teaching me about the history of Varmain, one of our greatest warrior diplomats. I didn’t care for history then, and to avoid listening to him, I was…”

Sheridan listened and laughed, and then he told another story – the one about the time he and Captain Maynard had taken shore leave and met this dancer – and then she told another story, and on and on.

And for a brief while at least, there was a light in the darkness. It wasn’t to last. It never did, but for a while at least, there was the sound of laughter.

“So how did you find the statue again?” she asked. “Or did you leave it there?”

“Oh no,” he said. “But first I had to track down the Drazi Ambassador. This was however, in the midst of their ceremonial battle for leadership, where they all divide up into greens and purples and…”

The door opened, and a Minbari figure stood framed in it. They both rose, holding on to each other. “Delenn?” asked a voice.

“Lennann!” she replied. “But…?”

“There is no time for words, Delenn. Hurry. There are some of us who did not believe Sinoval’s accusations against you. I have gathered them together, and they will listen to what you have to say. But we must hurry, or Sinoval will find out what I am doing.”

“John must come too,” she insisted.

“We cannot do that, Delenn. Hurry, please!”

“Not without him.”

“Go on, Delenn,” Sheridan insisted. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“John, I…”

He touched her face gently, almost unsure of what he was doing. “Go,” he said. Then he looked up at the silhouette in the doorway. “If she is hurt because of this, then so will you be. I promise.”

“There is no need to threaten me, Starkiller,” Lennann snapped back. “Delenn…”

“I am coming. I… John…”

“Just go,” he told her. “I can look after myself.”

She touched him gently and then left. Sheridan looked at the now closed door for a moment, and then he sat down again. It was strange how the cell seemed to smell so much of her now that she was gone.

And his mind was awash with plans for escape, and of stories of cats and goks, and visits to temple…

Ta’Lon had never been to Proxima 3 before, and so he had never met Mr. Welles, the man whose official designation was Head of Security and whose unofficial designation was Spymaster General. Upon his arrival here a few hours before he had arranged matters with a General Hague, who had looked very distracted, and hadn’t bothered checking his fake ID – provided by G’Kar.

Welles was considerably more efficient. After verifying the ID with the central computer at the Main Dome, he turned to his security guards. “Go on,” he ordered. “He’s fine.”

The guards – led by a big man with a deep scar running down one eye – left. After they were gone, Welles turned to Ta’Lon.

“So,” he said. “Tell me about Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar.”

Minbari… so proud… so noble… so perfect…

Minbari could project that image of perfection as much as they liked, and some might even believe them, but to Jha’dur, Minbari were no better than her own people. They still had their petty angers, their petty rivalries, their politicking.

Look at this one. A member of the Grey Council, devoted to Delenn, inheritor of a proud heritage. And he was content to abandon it all just for the sake of political power. No, not even that. A return to order, to a balance that could never hold…

The Minbari were falling. They were a dying race.

“He is in the cell, then?” Jha’dur asked.

Rathenn nodded. “Delenn was placed there as well. Sinoval ordered it.”

“What?” That did not make sense. Why put two of your enemies in the same place when there was no need to? It gave them a chance to plot an escape, it gave each access to information from the other. It… it was stupid. “Why?”

“Sinoval clearly believes in some form of redemption, perhaps?” Rathenn suggested. “It does not matter. Delenn is gone now. Satai Lennann has assembled a small group of people who will listen to her claims. Sheridan is alone in his cell, and the guards have been taken care of. I have ordered them away.”

“Good,” Jha’dur said. “Very good. Sinoval is blind, Rathenn, but you… you see clearly.”

“I have no feelings towards the Starkiller either way, and Delenn has clearly fallen. Whether what Sinoval claims is true or not is irrelevant. She will never regain her power. Perhaps this way, the religious caste can regain power from the warriors before they destroy us.”

“Perhaps,” Jha’dur said, smiling.

“Regardless… I have done as you asked. The Starkiller is yours, although what you want with him, I do not care to know. You are now in my debt, and I will demand repayment.”

“Of course,” Jha’dur replied. “And I will pay you back.”

“Yes,” he said. “You will.” He rose. “Sinoval has sent the Council to their respective meditations. Foolishness, if you ask me. He is… unstable, but still… Lennann expects me to be with him, and so I must go. Remember what I have done for you.”

“Oh, I will.” He turned to leave, and Jha’dur acted. Lunging forward with a speed that not even a Minbari could match she slid a thin needle from the fingers of her glove, and drove it into Rathenn’s neck. He stiffened and slumped, gasping as he looked at her, unable to breathe, unable to talk, or to move.

Jha’dur had been left alone for so much of her time amongst the Minbari. Time aplenty to develop several interesting strains of poison. This one, that could kill a Minbari with a mere drop. Others – a paralysing agent, a poison comprised of pure alcohol, a plague that would be 100% terminal, modelled after that delightful Markab disease Drafa. Jha’dur was more than prepared for any eventuality.

And, sooner or later, she would be able to use them all.

“I am repaying your kindness, Satai Rathenn,” she said. “You will die here, rather than later. A quicker death than your companions.”

She left before the life fled from his eyes. She had bigger concerns now.

Jha’dur did not consider herself a Shadow agent. She did not work for them as did the humans, or some Centauri, or the Drakh, or others… She worked with the Shadows. An equal partnership. She agreed with their plans for humanity. She agreed very much.

And now for Sheridan, with whom everything had begun

Londo had managed to surface into sobriety just long enough to hear Carn’s report.

“The enemy ships seem to have abandoned this area. They are heading further towards the heart of the system. We are alone for the moment.”

He swallowed. He really shouldn’t have had so much brivare. Had Frallus 12 really been that long ago? “What is the condition of the telepath?” Somehow, using means that Londo didn’t even want to think about, G’Kar had discovered that telepaths could deter and even stop the Shadow ships. As a result he had had telepaths installed on each of the ships whose captains were loyal to him. On a Centauri ship, it made little difference, as telepaths were routinely kept near by by the Captains anyway. One never knew when an overheard thought might prove handy.