“That supposed to mean something to me?”

“Perhaps. May I sit down?” Anna nodded and Susan sat down next to her. “John’s told me a lot about you.”

“Bet he has.”

“He still loves you, you know. He just can’t accept it like this, but don’t worry. He will.”

“Hates me.”

“No… well… maybe. It’s the Minbari, you see. It’s all their fault. They turned him into this, turned you into this. It’s all their fault, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Minbari… killed Lizzy. My daughter.”

“Kill them all and everything will be fine. There’s one here, you know. A Minbari. A powerful one. She even led them during the war.”

“Wha’…?”

“If she were to die, I’m sure everything would be fine again. She’s being kept in a cell not far from here. In the cell block of the Government building. If she died, I’m sure everything would be fine between you and John.”

“Fine?”

“Yes.” Susan smiled, and Anna couldn’t help smiling in turn. “Her name’s Delenn.”

The grey-clad Security man known only as Mr. Welles waited patiently in the corridor. Welles was always patient, and thorough, two of the reasons why he had come so far, why he had survived the horror that had engulfed Earth, why he was so valuable to the Resistance Government here on Proxima 3, and why he had been given the task of breaking this particular prisoner.

General Hague had warned him that this would not be easy. The prisoner was… stubborn, to say the least, possessed of an astonishing core of inner strength and an almost tangible willpower and force of personality. The fire and knowledge in her eyes frightened even him. From the first moment he had seen her, Welles had leapt at the chance for this interrogation. He had nearly fallen to his knees and thanked the God he had stopped believing in. Here, at last was his chance to serve his people.

General Hague had warned him that this would not be easy, but even so, Welles was surprised by his lack of success. For over six days the questioning had continued. The prisoner had been denied food, water and sleep. On three separate occasions Lyta Alexander had entered the her, only to emerge with vague images, unclear thoughts and a fatigue that lasted for days.

Mr. Welles could wait. Mr. Welles was patient. But Mr. Welles was also practical, and he knew when to hurry an interrogation along – when to wait, and when to push, when to sit in silence, and when to speak.

The two men he had been waiting for were coming into view, and he took time to study them. Boggs was a former Gropo, insignificant and unimportant, one of millions, at least until he had become trapped behind enemy lines during the assault on Io. He had survived on an occupied moon for months, with little food or water, but he had endured and been rescued, with a long scar, a knowledge of the Minbari language and physiology, and a deep-rooted hatred. Cutter was another story entirely. Born to rich military parents, the old man’s connections had swung him into Earthforce and up the ranks. Those connections had ended with Earth, but Cutter still tried to maintain his claimed superiority. Of average competence and dubious political leanings, he was not especially valuable, but he had two redeeming characteristics: he obeyed orders and he trusted Welles. Both were security guards under Welles’ direct supervision and he now needed their help.

“You wanted to see us, Chief?” Boggs said.

“How much do you know about the prisoner I’m questioning?” Welles asked.

“Everything we need to know,” Cutter replied. “There was a near-riot a few days ago. People wanted to drag her out under the Dome and stone her to death, of all things. We sorted the matter out.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard about that,” Welles said, annoyed with himself for becoming too engrossed in this case. “Does everyone know she’s here?”

“Pretty much, yes,” Cutter said. “It leaked somehow.”

“Really? Oh, well. Our prisoner is proving remarkably unco-operative. If force of will could be bottled, she’d have enough to open a plant. Not even telepathic scans are having much effect, which is where you come in. I want you to hurt her. Nothing permanent, nothing serious and nothing where it will show. Just enough to throw off her equilibrium. With any luck, hunger, thirst and loss of sleep will do the rest.” Welles looked at them slowly. “Gentlemen, can you control yourselves? I can’t let you kill her. She has far too much information that we need. If you don’t think you can control yourselves, just let me know, and I’ll get someone else to do it. I won’t think any the less of you if you can’t do this. I don’t think I could control myself either.”

“She’s a Minbari,” Boggs said slowly. “We owe her all the hurt in the bloody galaxy.”

“I know,” Welles replied. “I know.”

“But you’re the Chief,” Boggs finished. “You say nothing permanent or serious, then fine. Nothing permanent or serious.”

“Good, thank you. She’s in there.” Welles banged on the door and the security guard who had been keeping an eye on the prisoner opened it. Welles, Boggs and Cutter stepped in. Satai Delenn of the Grey Council looked up.

“I have been expecting you,” she said softly.

Sheridan cursed every last Narn to the fires of purgatory for what seemed the hundredth time since he had arrived on this desolate rock they called their homeworld. And then he looked out of the window and repented his silent curse. The Narns had also known what it was like to lose everything they held dear. For over a hundred years the Centauri had dominated their people, and now each and every Narn was consumed with a fury for revenge, for retribution and for blood that not even a recent five-year war could diminish. How different were they from Sheridan himself?

Fine, so he understood them, but did they have to be so bloody slow about everything? He had been waiting here for three days since his arrival on the Narn homeworld, to report personally on the destruction of the Vega 7 colony to the Kha’Ri – and not at all to find out which one of those reptilian bastards had sold him out to the Minbari. Oh no, not at all.

For three days they had been debating and arguing about his report. What was there to argue about? Vega 7 was neither important nor valuable, but it still housed a lot of humans and Narns. And then the Minbari had swept in, and massacred everyone there. Marcus Cole was the only surviving inhabitant, and Sheridan hoped his evidence would convince the Kha’Ri. Assuming either of them ever got to see them.

His link bleeped and he activated it sullenly. “Yes?”

“Captain?” It was Corwin. “Daily report for you, sir.”

Sheridan groaned softly, then hoped Corwin hadn’t picked up the noise. Was it that time of day already? Was he going to be stuck here forever? “Proceed, Mr. Cor…” His communications console suddenly bleeped, and he turned to it. “Excuse me, David. On.”

The face of a Narn appeared on the screen. It was Councillor Na’Toth. “Captain, the Kha’Ri will see you now, in their personal hall.”

“About bloody time,” he muttered under his breath. “Will you want to see Marcus as well?”

“Who? Oh yes, the… witness you mentioned in your report. That will not be necessary, Captain. Please be prompt. We are very busy, after all.” The viewscreen went blank again.

“I’ll bet you are,” Sheridan said. He touched his link again. “Sorry, David. The Kha’Ri have finally woken up and they want to see me. The report will have to wait, I’m afraid.” He switched off his link without giving David a chance to reply, and opened the door. The sooner he could see the Kha’Ri, the sooner he would be off this barren rock.

Unsurprisingly, Marcus was there waiting for him. Sheridan glared at him. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do that.” Sheridan didn’t need a bodyguard, least of all one with the sort of death wish Marcus seemed to possess, and the man was annoying the hell out of him.