The human was talking to himself, speaking the same four words over and over again.

“The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming. The Minbari are coming.”

The human stopped when he saw Ta’Lon. The Narn saw a general’s insignia on his uniform. “You…?” the general whispered. “I remember you. It was… it was…”

And Ta’Lon remembered him now, although he was astonished to recognise this haunted figure as the calm, confident General Hague he had known in the last war with the Centauri. The humans had assisted in the war – well, Sheridan had, which amounted to the same thing – and General Hague had come to the city of G’Khamazad for meetings with the Kha’Ri. Ta’Lon had been in the Narn military then, and he had been responsible for the escort that brought General Hague in.

Of course, that was before G’Kar. That was before Neroon. That was a million years ago.

“General Hague,” Ta’Lon said slowly.

“You’re dead,” Hague said. “You’re… dead. I’m certain you were dead. We’re all… dead. All dead… The Minbari are coming.”

“Do you know where Marcus Cole and Lyta Alexander are?” Ta’Lon asked. He was not expecting rationality, but maybe, maybe there was hope… The Darkness had not claimed him just yet, but madness had instead.

“No!” he cried out. “No! I… Oh God, what have I become? Plenty of company at the bottom… she said. At the… bottom…” Hague blinked. “Room six, ground floor, Grey area. Go. Save them! Please… the price… some prices are too great.”

Ta’Lon nodded and silently thanked Hague. He made to go, and then he patted the general nervously on the arm. Hague was lost. The best he could hope for was to die without realising what had happened to his people.

Ta’Lon had made it to the right area, when he came to an abrupt halt. Standing at the entrance to the hall was a human, flanked by two security guards.

“Even in the midst of anarchy, there must be some order,” the leader said. “Even in chaos, there is purpose. May I know yours, please?”

The White Stars moved forward, over and under Sheridan’s hastily constructed minefield. They could see their enemies. The human ships they had come to destroy, and the Shadows defending them. A long way further towards the centre of the system, near Proxima 3 itself, there was a frantic battle between a Narn ship, a Centauri ship, two human ships and the Shadows, but that was there. Here, out on the edge of the Proxima system, it was Minbari versus Shadows, as it had been before, with no Vorlons, no First Ones, no Valen to aid them. On the other hand, they did have the Starkiller.

The first Shadow ships, screaming and black and dark against the night, came into view of the first White Stars. The White Stars were faster than the greater Minbari ships, and had entered the breach first.

They were not faster than the Shadows.

One Shadow ship was struck by the focussed bursts from two White Stars at once. The Minbari had clashed with their Ancient Enemy before this battle, in small skirmishes. The one at Mars had been destroyed, so had the ships at Ganymede. But never in this number, never on this scale.

Another Shadow soared above the White Stars and tore them apart with its energy burst. The wounded ship fell back and two more rose forward. More White Stars came, and combined their forces. One Shadow ship screamed as its outer spines were burned away. Minbari on both ships felt the scream. Shortly after their own screams were added to it as the Shadows struck back.

The Shadows pressed forward, pushing the White Stars back. One tried a counterattack, rushing forward, and briefly drove the Shadow back.

But there were too many Shadows… far too many…

Sinoval stood in the centre of the Hall of the Grey Council, the One amongst the Nine. He was watching the battle taking place with calm, patient eyes.

Unlike many in the Council, Sinoval was a consummate strategist, a planner and a tactician. He could read the ebb and flow of the battle effortlessly. He could evaluate weak spots and vulnerabilities, strengths and fortified positions.

At the moment the battle was too early to be accurately read. There were more Shadows than he had been expecting, but the Minbari fleet still outnumbered them. The presence of three Earthforce heavy destroyers – one the Babylon he remembered so well from the attack on Mars – had surprised him, but what surprised him more was that two of them were focussing on the Shadows just as much as on the Minbari. He had not been expecting that turn of events, but he put it down to deep-rooted terror, as the humans finally witnessed just what they had allied themselves to. The presence of a Narn warship and a Centauri cruiser had surprised him as well – more so as they were fighting back to back, working against the Enemy.

There were games within games taking place, and he did not like the thought that others were manipulating events.

“Holy One!” It was Kalain. Sinoval turned to face him, irked that his contemplation of the battle had been interrupted. “We have received a message. It is from… it is from her. Zha’valen.”

He could see the shock on the faces of Rathenn and Lennann, the two members of the religious caste still on the Grey Council. The two of them had objected the most strongly when Delenn had been named Zha’valen – outcast. Sinoval himself had not believed the story he had put out – that Delenn had gone with Starkiller willingly, had helped him escape from Minbar, and was working with the Enemy of her own will. It had, however, suited him to pretend that he did. With Delenn gone, his was the only voice the Grey Council could hear.

And yet…

He listened as the acolyte who had brought Kalain the message replayed it. Afterwards, for a moment, there was silence. He could tell what each member of the Council was thinking. His own thoughts could be summed up in one word.

Starkiller.

Sheridan had escaped from Minbar, had killed two members of this assembly and crippled – physically and emotionally – three more. He was responsible for countless Minbari deaths. He had dared to face down Sinoval in this very Hall. The fact that Sheridan was also – indirectly – responsible for Sinoval holding the position he did today was not lost on the Holy One. On the contrary, that counted as one more weight against him.

“Bring them to me,” Sinoval snapped. “The Starkiller and De… and the Zha’valen. Bring them before me in chains and let them face my judgement.” This war would end here, in the skies of Proxima, but it could not end until Sheridan was dead, and Del… and the Zha’valen was punished for her treason.

Sinoval understood that humans had a saying. Great empires are always built on blood.

He would build a Minbari empire on the blood of two people.

Captain Ben Zayn could practically feel the evil directed towards him, the focussed evil of millennia. He welcomed it. He was a soldier, a warrior. He had fought on countless battlefields and survived them all. He would survive this one.

Beside him, Gray’s head snapped backwards with the force of the telepathic encounter. Ben Zayn took advantage, driving forward with both broadsides and the fore firing team. He had fought the Shadows before as well. No enemy was invincible.

He wasn’t surprised to learn that the Babylon was fighting alongside him. He knew most, if not all, of Bester’s little secrets. He was surprised at the arrival of a Narn and a Centauri ship, fighting together of all things.

Ben Zayn felt the rush of battle, felt at once the furious passion of the warrior and the calm serenity of one who has accepted his inevitable death.

For the duration of this battle he knew that he was immortal.