Hey everyone: Thank you for your comments and reviews. To all of the new people, I hope you enjoy the story. Now here are some responses to your comments found in the review section.

Korgeta: I got your message and will get back to you shortly

Vreeman: I have a specific and long response to your review in the review section concerning your questions and comments concerning ST and B5 technology and capabilities.

Comment: "... it’s a political statement by the Alpha quadrant: “We’re involved. Not you, so stay out of the way.” And if a leader had been killed when the Ashen shot at the ships of other races who were on a diplomatic mission what then? Not from a panic reaction by a very stupid ship's captain, but a deliberate attack on any ship at Becerra Alpha-1. Would the Alpha Quadrant refuse to allow that nation to join although it would have a complaint similar to the Gorn? What if that race said "We're joining, deal with it"? It didn't appear that the Federation had thought through such scenarios.

Answer: Probably correct….at least the writers didn’t at the time (smile). But others did and after comments, counter claims and arguments; we decided that as with the OTL, the other races will continue to stay out of it. At the same time, this is way ATV: Supplements was developed to get others’ point of view and the ramifications thereof.

Worker 72: As I told you before, this has always been a one-sided conflict, nothing else but, and I make no apology for it. The focus has always been the Federation-Minbari war with Earth Alliance as detailed secondary characters. One of the things I have held off on is the reaction of the Minbari and the suicide rate which I think we both agree would be rather high. At the same time, this point is starting to be addressed in this very chapter. Discussions on the other site as you know quite well have compared the Minbari to the Japanese actions of WW2. While close it’s not the same. Also as you well know, the Minbari have a fairly monolithic mentality. Monolithic or not, not everyone thinks the same way and despite our fantasies, entire races are not going to commit suicide because some leader says so. Usually those same leaders will force the situation. For example in WW2 Japanese history, we know it would have been a bloodbath if we had invaded the islands with troops. Instead history went differently and two nukes were dropped. The Japanese surrendered and although some people chose suicide, most did not. It’s the same in most human history. Simply because I have not mentioned suicide by the Minbari or the human colonists for that matter does not mean it didn’t happened, only that I have not mentioned it.

Now on with the story:

Then

(In this universe anyway)

The circle had to start somewhere.

Five thousand years ago, there was a war between two powers. Some called it a war between the darkness and the light, but that would be an inaccurate assessment of the battle that raged then. Those who had a better understanding of the true nature of the conflict would have identified it as a philosophical difference of opinion. Whatever the older races called it, it was devastating for all of the younger races involved.

Light verses darkness.

Vorlons verses Shadows.

As with any good war, those who initiated it didn’t get their hands dirty for the most part. That was left for others to deal with. The Caruseens were lost, as were the Knaszo, the Slevon, the TyǽhaQia and a score of others whose names and worlds were erased from the universe. During that war, more than a hundred billion sentients lost their lives. The Shadows attempting to stave off defeat became directly involved and many of the near immortal creatures were killed.

Stung by the loss the aliens retreated licking their wounds, and rebuilding their technology. The great debate was left undecided. The Vorlons and Shadows called it a tie. But now it was personal and the two species’ dislike of one another grew to hatred. Every thousand years a new set of young races were thrust towards extinction. And in the end both species reassessed and moved the war to different area of space where fresh resources would be available.

Then, approximately a thousand years ago, during another cycle of the war between the light and dark something happened, a series of incidents occurred and he who was Valen appeared for the first time bring a message of hope along with gift of power. He was Minbari not of Minbar and the Vorlons were stunned. Upon closer inspection a Kosh discovered the strange creature was a Human modified to be Minbari. The modifications were definitely Vorlon based. Why the Vorlons of the future had done this was a mystery that demanded explanations. Valen was taken away, examined and talked too extensively. Much of the information they required was not known by the Human but what he did know was tantalizing enough to give them pause. There were some who wished to remove the temporal creature and the station it brought, however the majority chose to wait and observe what happened.

Valen literally changed the lives and culture of the young, violent race called the Minbari, bringing them together, and helping to stabilize their government and their culture. It was under his direction that the battle against the darkness was won. The Shadows and their minions retreated and in turn, the Minbari, fearful of the Human-Minbari drove him and his children away.

This time, for the first time, the Vorlons had won a decisive victory. It was more than a victory, they had defeated the Shadows and the Shadows knew that they had been defeated. Something had been added that changed the equation of the thousand year war. Instead of fresh young races being used as proxies, temporal travel had been introduced.

The Great Machine, something once ignored by the Vorlons became an object of supreme importance as it was mentioned. A Vorlon journeyed to the planet and using every last bit of energy, it transmitted a message to itself fifteen hundred years in the past. It required much power and the message was short by Vorlon standards.

“A circle,” the Vorlon sent. “Protect Minbari. Humans will be important in the coming war. Sinclair –Valen. Earth…Minbar. The truth will point to itself.” The Vorlon transmitted as much as it could before the keeper of the Great Machine was used up.

Fifteen hundred years earlier, the younger Vorlon received the psychic transmission from his older self. Ten others heard the message as well. It was confusing, shocking, terrifying, however he knew himself. The information and instructions were there. The message ended with a charge to repeat history.

– And the circle was begun for the first time.

A great debate began but it didn’t last long.

Minbar-fifteen hundred years ago:

The Vorlons knew of the young ones called the Minbari. They were a useful race with much potential but they were a violent race, and some believed that they would not be ready when the time came. Like so many others not claimed by the Shadows, the Minbari had been modified by the Vorlons but after the message was received, it was felt that much more was required. Valen was a Minbari not born of Minbar. This was impossible; therefore something had to be done to make the impossible a reality.

The genome project was begun.

The Vorlons created a synthetic virus, which when introduced reconfigured the Minbari race, allowing them to reproduce with Humanity. The change was not without cost. Three percent of Minbar’s population died as the air-borne virus swept around the globe. Ten percent became sterile, however the experiment worked. Minbari could breed with humans. Unfortunately the side affect would be eventual sterilization of the entire Minbari race as their genomes slowly destabilized.

Almost immediately, the Minbari family unit dropped from and average five children to three. And in each following generation, the children were ‘less capable’ as some called it. Cascade failure and eventual extinction would not happen for another two thousand years and if there were infusions of Human DNA into the bloodlines, a remnant would be saved but that was not a real concern of the Vorlons.

The second part of the experiment was the creation of the chrysalis chamber. That machine would reconfigure Human and Minbari DNA in effect changing the one species into the other. Under the direction of the Vorlons, a client race created the machine. It was painful and time consuming, however it worked well enough for the Vorlon’s purpose. There were many Vorlons who were still concerning about failure and insisted on a backup plan. The leadership, seeing the wisdom of their argument, agreed to their demands.

On Minbar, there was another series of wars happening. Someone wanted another’s land, or someone’s mother was insulted didn’t matter to the Vorlons. The why wasn’t important, only that one side would win and the other side would lose. The ‘Keepers of the Light’ called the Ashikinaszan were a clan destined for obliteration. These Minbari were enlightened, magnificent warriors but they were outnumbered and out-gunned. On the eve of their destruction, the Vorlons came and took them away. In the morning their enemies found only rubble and the dead. The others were assumed to have fled or maybe there weren’t as many of the clan as their enemies believed. In the end it did not matter and as with so many wars, that small chapter of history ended and the Ashikinaszan clan was forgotten.

The Vorlons however had plans for this doomed clan they’d rescued. They were taken to another world. Safe and secured now they literally worshiped the Vorlons and the angelic looking beings did nothing to stop it. The clan grew quickly in numbers. The Vorlons experimented with them, increasing their strength and natural abilities. The heavy world conditions helped to enhance the Ashen combat effectiveness. They were told that they were lights against the darkness and were given enhanced technology forbidden to many of the other races. They were taught to fight and most of all to revere all things Vorlon or as the Ashen called them, the Vorrin.

The Ashen grew strong, but with that strength they grew far too aggressive and in the eyes of some of the Vorlons, their growing instability represented a threat to the very plans they were designed to help fulfill. A genetic failsafe was implanted into the Ashen to correct this problem and when triggered, they would die out within ten years. The trigger had been activated each time, in each timeline, seventy-seven times as the circle completed itself and the Vorlons claimed victory over the Shadows.

The Shadows of course never had a clue that they’d been had. The circle was an unchanging fact of the universe and the Vorlons intended to keep it that way. Then the Metrons interfered for the first time and screwed up the whole thing. For the first time, the trigger had not been activated.

For the first time, the Ashen were needed.

Another error.

[trans-historical footnote: In another universe mentioned often by this author, a similar thing happened but the Metrons did not interfere as they didn’t exist in that reality. The genetic failsafe was initiated and the Ashen never appeared. The circle was safe, however the Vorlons and Shadows were not happy with what happened there. In fact, to clarify things the war 5000 between the First Ones years ago will be discussed and what all of that has to do with the future ‘A Universe of Change: Of Gods and Emissaries coming out in 2009.

Chapter 65

Scorch Earth-Part One

Now

Shengol Star System

USS Enterprise:

In the briefing room, Admiral Kirk was the last to enter and sit down. He still had his combat uniform on as did Captains Spock, Fisher and Vic’qua. “Captain?”

Spock responded, falling naturally into his role of information officer. “The small outpost on Shengol VI’s moon is effectively secured. There was little to no resistance once they were informed of Shengol IV’s capitulation. As of this moment, seven of the eight known Minbari spaceship building and storage facilities in the Glath, Tro’Kact, and Vlausha, systems have been destroyed or heavily damaged by allied ships. Three of the most distant colonies, Tavalan and Raliata have surrendered to our forces. Two of our squadrons have met no resistance at the protectorate worlds of Tir and Klath. The Minbari forces protecting them have abandoned their duty and sensors suggest that they are headed for Minbar. Solta Gan has surrendered to Commodore Acaltha after a brief struggle. And Shengol is in our possession. Two starships, the USS Kennedy and Omaha were destroyed. Seven others suffered varying degrees of damage. Minbari ships destroyed in battle are estimated between thirty to forty-three capital ships and another estimated one hundred forty mothballed vessels.”

We’re achieving most of our objectives with the notable exception of the Sudu system,” Vic’qua added. “Commodore Baca was a fool!” the Andorian hissed. “He got overconfident and his squadron and his crews were killed as a consequence.” Vic’qua didn’t like Baca and had said so in no uncertain terms on several occasions. Their private battles were the unofficial scuttlebutt of Starfleet. But even he would not wish this useless slaughter on anyone of his people.

“He made a mistake,” agreed Fisher. “Got trapped between the planet and the Minbari.” They had all heard the frantic transmissions. All fifteen vessels were in orbit. Somehow the Minbari jumped in undetected from several directions at once and slaughtered the starships. “All that training and the man forgot the first rule of engagement.”

“Watch your back,” the Admiral muttered. The Minbari have been blasting the ‘victory over the hated forces of darkness’ for two days now. The newscasts almost seemed desperate in their intensity, something that Kirk suspected to be true. “General Kang is heading for the system now. Should be there in two days.”

“Good,” Vic’qua said viciously.

The Minbari have lost most of their ships,” Kirk announced. “They’ve lost several systems and much of their infrastructure. And they’ve lost many of their best crews. Probes to their protectorate worlds have reported that the Minbari are abandoning them.”

“The call is out,” Fisher surmised. “They’re returning to Minbar, consolidating their forces there.”

“This is exactly what we want them to do. I want them and these other Minbari all together making a last stand. I will destroy their fleet and end this war. Captain Spock, best guess on when we can take the war to their world?”

Spock looked at his friend and commander. He knew that Kirk had already calculated the time. Unperturbed he continued. “If we wait for the Earth Alliance to bring their ships, then the attack can begin in three weeks. This is provided that General Chang succeeds in liberating Proxima Three.”

All of the Starfleet officers were lost in thought. The second battle for Proxima by all reports was a nasty affair, far more costly than the Klingons or the Federation had anticipated. After the Earth Alliance completely abandoned the planet due to the Minbari threat, several military units had returned to reestablish a presence. Unfortunately, the Minbari or Ashen, as these Minbari called themselves, destroyed all human life in the system.

The sheer viciousness of the Minbari was something that Kirk understood but at the same time disturbed him somewhat. From interrogations with the Minbari warrior Kastallan, formally a crewman of the ill-fated Dark Sword, it was clear that this was some sort of holy war. The leader, Delenn, had said much the same thing. But it was more complicated than that. Many of the Minbari people wanted the war to end as those he had spoken with on Shengol had attested to. The Minbari government had no chance, but instead of offering to negotiate in some form, they had chosen to remain silent and either win or die. Certainly the warrior caste was willing to die to the last fighter. He understood that. They were fighting for their world and surrender was not an option. But the religious and worker castes…what were their opinions? Did they feel the same way? Like the Klingons you couldn’t lump them all in one group. “General Order Twenty-four is in affect,” he muttered.

“Admiral,” Vic’qu started. “With respect, killing a world is a drastic measure.”

“I’m aware of that,” Kirk snapped. “I haven’t given this order lightly. But I will do what is necessary to end this war.”

“I don’t care about the Minbari,” snapped Fisher, captain of the USS Thornwood. “They’ve killed tens of millions in our space and in the colonies they bombarded here. They’re worse that the Klingons have ever been. If they don’t surrender then we should wipe them out.”

“They are sentient beings,” Spock said slowly, his distaste evident.

“Sentient beings that butchered more than twenty-eight million innocent people at home and several colonies of Humans here. The universe is getting smaller every day. We can’t afford these kinds of actions to take place without consequences.”

“Then, by implementing General Order Twenty-Four, are we in effect doing the same thing as have the Minbari?”

“Captain Spock, that defense has been used for generations to compare one deplorable action with an appropriate, responsible reaction. Don’t you dare compare our response to their actions. However maybe I should perhaps revise my opinion. Let me clarify. I want the Minbari in a position not to repeat what they’ve done again. If that means General Order twenty-four, then so be it.”

“Admiral,” Spock said. “I am pointing out that the destruction of a world is not an appropriate response.”

“I’ve issued the command, Captain Spock. The order stands. If the Minbari surrender, they save their world. If they don’t, then I will not have our people die unnecessarily trying to subdue a world with sentients as dangerous as the Klingons.”

“That little show and tell Acaltha performed…I hope it doesn’t backfire in our faces. The governments here will find out sooner or later. They might as find out now instead of getting things piecemeal. Finding out later would bring about even more suspicion and general distrust.”

“Admiral, are you concerned that this information will precipitate some form of weapons race among the governments here?”

“Yes.” Kirk looked at the captains as he spoke. “It’s not only the governments here that I am concerned about as much as I am apprehensive about the Klingons. Allies or not, I don’t trust them. In a way, we’ve opened ourselves to possible long-term repercussions. Genesis is ours. The doomsday device is ours. Some of the Xindii technology is ours. Despite our having such knowledge, the Klingons have not forced the issue. Why?” And he answered his own question before the others could. “They know that despite the dangers that we pose, the Federation would not use those technologies as weapons unless we were backed into a corner with no way out. Everyone in this room has had experience with some of those devices. Captain Fisher, you’ve had contact with the first Federation. Vic’qua, you stopped the Romulan infiltration on Tallums IX. The verteron defense arrays could have killed millions Tallumians if they had succeeded. Spock, Genesis. Need I say more? This generation of officers has had personal experience. We know the dangers inherent. The Klingons, some of the more persistent ones will do anything to acquire them,” he said, thinking about Krudge. “We could have gone to war because of their mere existence, but we haven’t. The Klingons know that in spite of their fears, we represent a series of checks and balances against others like the Romulans would use those technologies as a weapon of first strike capability if any reasonable opportunity arose. The Federation is growing, maturing and we are the vanguard preparing to pass our legacy on to the next generation.”

“However, we have an advantage that those here lack…”

“Yes, Spock. We’ve come together. Archer had it right. When the first five came joined to create the future Federation, something we are all proud of, came into existence. Granted, some of Archer’s tactics were actions that I would not have approved of, but he succeeded.” He smiled. “I’m sure that the way we do things now will be frowned upon by some future generation of by-the-book Starfleet captain. However we’re here now and we have to make a difference. And that is why I am concerned. I don’t want an arms race that could very well erupt into a war that makes our conflict here pale in comparison.”

Proxima system

GCF Fires of Regulus

S’Garak frowned at the sensor readout S’Tavak had just forwarded to his command chair. While the battle-station had impressive point-defense batteries, it was surprisingly light with respect to heavier weapons. He supposed it made sense if it was designed to be broken down or moved as needed. The World-Burners were ignorant of inertial dampening fields, as their lack of maneuverability demonstrated, and heavy weapons discharges would likely have ruptured the hull.

“Based on power distribution routing and transmission flux variations, I predict their command and control center is based in this section,” S’Tavak reported, indicating a highlighted section with a carefully-manicured talon.

S’Garak grunted. “Forward this to the stalker-leaders over the hunt-band, let them sort out their insertion points. I can’t guarantee an indefinite beachhead.”

S’Tavak turned and his claws danced over his beloved workstation. “They are aware. Most of them have been tapping into the fleet-com since we engaged.”

“I’ve little doubt of that,” S’Garak replied. Unlike some commanders, he preferred those under his command be allowed open inbound access to the general communications band. He didn’t worry about faltering courage among his pack, not with hand-picked and highly trained troops like these. And it always helped when professional warriors were already leaning in the correct direction when their orders arrived. “They have one standard interval to pick their spots, then forward the placements on to the Klingon troop commander.”

General Chang had ‘allowed’ their Heavy Armor units the honor of making the initial penetration of the target. S’Garak had little doubt that members of the second wave had been tasked with assessing the capabilities of the Gorn warriors.

“Approaching optimal launch point,” K’Zakkit reported after a moment.

S’Garak turned to R’Kusot. “Alert the fleet. Tell shuttle commanders to launch at their own discretion.”

Each of the Gorn vessels possessed a pair of balcony-style launching racks on the upper sections of their rear hulls. As a legacy of ship design dating from the Romulan wars, every Gorn vessel from patrol cruisers on up carried at least one assault shuttle and contingent of warriors highly skilled in personal combat.

As the Gorn flotilla flew past the Ashen battle-station, each ship launched a number of oddly-shaped shuttlecraft. Squat, with bulbous noses, they arrowed toward their target with alarming speed. Point defense batteries sprang into action, spewing kinetic kill rounds and light particle beams with frantic urgency. The shuttles bore through this barrage, shields flaring, but otherwise not reacting. Rapid fire phaser pulses from the Gorn starships, however savaged the defensive batteries until they fell silent.

In precisely choreographed harmony, the Gorn shuttles rammed into the station, disappearing in brilliant flashes of light.

Gorn Assault Shuttle Smaug-3

R’Barktak couldn’t help but flinch as his shuttle collided with the station. It was still unnerving to ram into something a million times larger than you were. He snorted inside his helmet. It didn’t help when the forward view screen filled with light at the moment of impact, either.

Of course, that light was the coronal discharge from the immensely powerful short-range phaser built into the nose of the shuttle. It fired a beam a little wider than the actual hull, with a focal distance measured in meters, rather than light-seconds. None of this effeminate clinging to the outer hull and trying to force an entrance, not for Gorn vacuum warriors. Ram straight through the hull and exit in style. Time to show those Klingons who the real hatchlings were around here.

His musings, however, were interrupted by a stream of curses emanating from his pilot.

“What’s wrong now?” he groused over the squad band. “It worked didn’t it?”

“Might have been better if it hadn’t, Stalker-leader,” P’Zokart, the technical specialist groused. His armor was less bulky carried fewer heavy weapons since he usually stayed to guard the shuttle.

“What is that supposed to mean?” R’Barktak growled as he released his restraints.

“It means Ashen don’t built space stations worth a shard,” P’Zokart spat. “We’re fifty meters past the outer hull. If we’d been going any faster I think we’d have punched right through to the other side,” he reported in a disgusted tone.

R’Barktak growled. This hadn’t been in the briefing. “Can you extract if we have to?” He didn’t like planning for failure, but the confederation doesn’t pay them to be a dead heroes. That waste should be saved for fire-time-stories.

P’Zokart continued growling as he punched at the keys. “Some of the sharding wreckage collapsed behind us. It’s going to take some doing to clear it out.”

His decision was an easy one. “Nine and Ten, stay with the ship and help him get that passage cleared out. Use your demolition charges if necessary.” He wasn’t crazy about facing an unknown enemy with an under-strength squad, but he was even less happy about them being trapped here if they needed to leave in a hurry.

“The rest of you, let’s go say hello to the World-Burners.”

With that, the hatch popped open and the scream of atmosphere escaping the Ashen battle-station made his armor’s sonic dampeners activate.

Shalytni Equotnna heard the loud wailing of the sirens indicating both breaches to the station as a well as the intrusion alarms. Ashen warrior-techs were yelling out damage reports which included video images of at least two hull breaches by small ships that had not only breached crystalline armor but came to rest in a middle of a main corridor.

Several Ashen were crushed but the shuttle and the amount of damage caused explosive decompressions in several sectors causing crystalline re-enforced doors to slam down sealing the wounds to the station.

Huge figures emerged from the shuttles. Armored lizards took defensive positions in the ruined corridor, watching carefully as their thirty-four fellow soldiers emerged. Gravity was non-existent as the Ashen had cut life support and gravity to slow the intruders down. The Gorn had no illusions whatsoever in believing that the Ashen would avoid them. They were simply too close to vital sections of the station.

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, the Ashen commander would have been smiling. This, he understood would be the ultimate test. None had succeeded in penetrating an Ashen station ever. This enemy was indeed worthy and they would pay for that worthiness with their deaths. If this battle were to be lost then it would be with the teeth of the gloried Ashen sunk into the throats of their enemy. Even if the battle was lost the war would be won. If the Ashen had to sacrifice their world and Minbar for the ultimate victory they would do so without hesitation. This was the battle they were destined to fight. The Dark Ones might win the battle but the Light would win the war. Vorrins be praised.

Scores of Ashen warriors dressed in brilliant white flowing robes covering crystalline armor completed their final preparations. Neutron pistols, rifles and heavy weapons were checked and rechecked. These lizard creatures were strong and the armor that they wore undoubtedly powerful, but the beasts were slow. They moved like advancing glaciers, presenting perfect targets.

Other warnings sounded as more hull breeches were detected. The Klingon animals had broken through most of the preliminary defenses. Many of the finest Ashen warships were dead along with their crews in space, or fighting for their lives against the enemy. It was becoming increasingly apparent that their best wasn’t good enough. Klingon assault ships were burning through the hull of the station and unlike their counterparts their objectives were the engineering and ship docking sectors.

Lord Shalytni-Res Wilnakju glanced at Equotnna who immediately ordered his warriors to engage the Klingon animals. There had been rumors that the Klingons were ferocious in battle and although bestial, were perhaps worthy opponents at hand-to-hand combat. Equotnna intended to discover if the rumors were true. Quickly he entered the lift and prepared to lead the station’s defense of engineering.

Lord Shalytni-Res Wilnakju refused to hide while his people attacked the lizard creatures. He was warrior prime as his tattoos attested to. His favorite weapon had many kills to its credit. Now it was time for a few more.

The sound of controlled disruptors filled the shuttle as they cut through the armor and then metal of the station. The Gorn had simply plowed through creating a huge hole in their haste to attack the enemy. Commendable, but foolish. If atmosphere was compromised then the glory of battle would be diminished, or so went the opinion of the Klingon leader of the assault shuttle.

Captain Krunge by rights was the first Klingon to exit his escape shuttle and step onto the Minbari space station. He was cautious but giddy. These Minbari called themselves Ashen and like all other Klingons he had heard of the Minbari-Klingon clashes and how they had fought to the last male, neither giving or asking quarter. That hand to hand battle had been by all account glorious and the only shame had been that he and his warriors had not been there to participate in that glorious struggle. Klingon lived for the battle or so he and so many others had been taught. He was as aggressive as any of the worthy. But there had been precious few battles of late. He and his family and the families of others had waited for the one glorious battle that would have been the war of wars, the war against the Federation.

The Federation, he thought. He was still stunned that they were fighting alongside them instead of against them as so many stories had foretold. They were not the traditional enemies of the Empire but they had become the most dangerous enemy. Their way of life, especially the Humans, was insidious. They captured territory by exploration instead of the tradition way of taking it from others. And they allowed those new worlds equal rights when they should have been subservient to the Federation, sharing resources instead of taking what was rightfully theirs by conquest.

And they interfered with everything, notably the Humans, especially the Humans. That must be a genetic trait within them, he mused. Archer, and his family of the clan Duras still hated that Human and he been dead for almost a century, was as bad in his days of glory as Kirk was now. They were weak but resisted with a ferocity that would make any Klingon proud. They were destined to be smashed but the war would have been glorious. Then Praxis exploded, sending the Empire into turmoil. He cursed savagely at those who destroyed the moon. He had liked that moon and now it was dust in the solar win because of a mistake in mining! Stupidity at its best, or as people now said, dishonor at its worst.

That was the new phrase, honor. The leadership used that word now at every possible opportunity. Honor this, honor that! It was as if being Klingon wasn’t honorable enough. It was a primary source of irritation between him and his brother. Krudge didn’t care about honor, it usually got in the way of one’s duty usually for the worst as he always said. He was dead now, dishonorably killed by the warrior Kirk. How Kirk had defeated Krudge was questionable after all of these years but it mattered little. Dead was dead and his brother should have been more efficient in dealing with the hazel-eyed devil.

Concerning honor, well he wasn’t sure. His father and uncles were of different opinions before this war. Both uncles had not been convinced that the young people needed to focus on the military so much. Engineering, farming and yes, even medicine and science should have been pushed as well. They constantly looked at the Federation as a comparison, believing that the Klingons were falling behind, albeit slowly but definitely.

His father didn’t like his brothers, when the conversation turned to politics and the direction as to where the Klingon people should go. The Klingons were strong and they should take what they wanted as far as father was concerned. All of the recent talk concerning honor was the talk of the weak. However, as he listened to the arguments, he found that both sides had merits. He certainly didn’t want to live under a Federation flag because they had become more technologically advanced and numerous. His people had the photon torpedoes first long before those old, almost Starfleeters stole the technology so long ago. Klingons developed warp long before the Federation, so why was it so hard to keep up with them now? They hadn’t blown up their moon either.

Things were certainly interesting now. Here he was on the other side of the galaxy fighting with the Federation and the Gorn in order to protect another set of stupid Humans from aliens that were attempting genocide. Genocide wasn’t that big of a concern but if any Klingon attempted it, they’d better have the best reasons of all. There was no glory killing entire races; subjugating them yes, killing millions as necessary, yes. Genocide? No, even if fewer Humans in the galaxy would be a blessing.

Honor? No, he wasn’t in it for the honor. He was in this for the glory. They, the younger ones contemplate honor and what it meant. He just wanted to prove himself and his warriors against a worthy enemy. But all the glory in the universe wouldn’t do him any good if he had his head blown off.

“Gravity is slightly heavier than Qo’noSThen:use masks!” the pilot growled at the team leader. “There is gas in the corridors.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. “Masks!”

USS Enterprise

“We will leave the system in three hours. Dismissed. Spock, stay.”

The others left while Captain Spock remained patiently waiting for the discussion that was sure to come.

Kirk sighed.

“Admiral?”

“General Order-twenty-Four…”

“They have to understand that the threat is credible.”

“Logical, but excessive.”

“Is it? I wonder? Logic would dictate that the Minbari would have surrendered by now. But they haven't. Emotional beings don’t behave in predictable ways, Spock, you know that. Logic would dictate that if the Klingons had the capability to conquer Vulcan, then your people would surrender rather than fight a war you have no chance of winning.”

“That is a rather simplistic analogy. However, my people would resist-logically, rather than surrender to the Klingons.”

“Like most races in the galaxy we’ve encountered, the Minbari will fight for their freedom and their survival. Therefore it is up to us to offer options. Remember our contact with the First Federation?”

“Yes – and the game,” the Vulcan said, “was not chess, but poker.” It was an interesting game that Spock on occasion indulged in on his vessel and had gotten pretty good at it.

“Sometimes the rules or even the game itself has to be changed in order to win the pot.”

“But this ‘pot’ could very well destroy a world.”

Kirk smiled grimly. “That’s not the pot I’m going for. He turned from his musings and stared at his friend. “Dangerous, indeed. In this case the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few.”

“We are not discussing the Federation,” Spock stated. It wasn’t a question.

“No, it’s the Minbari and every race in this immediate sector. Everyone of them is looking at us, trying to decide what we should, or will do. If we destroy the Minbari, in spite of everything that they’ve done, the Federation will be feared as killers, murderers of an entire people. Our enemies will have a field day. But if we back off, then our credibility will be damaged for generations and we may be forced to destroy the Minbari whether they surrender or not. I am giving the Minbari people an option that their government is seemingly unwilling to do. It is a slim one I admit but it is there.”

“Perhaps we could send an intermediary to discuss cessations of hostilities,” the Vulcan Captain suggested.

“No,” Kirk stated flatly. “Their attack on Proxima and other colonies has shown that talking is meaningless to them unless you bloody them first. We’ve beaten them at almost every engagement, taken prisoners and treated them with respect. In return, we’ve been called the forces of darkness to be destroyed whatever the costs. They’ve upped the ante by destroying entire colonies because they could and we’ve held back. We’ve attacked and secured their surrounding systems and they refuse to speak to us. This other group of Minbari is even more aggressive than those we have talked to. We will have to definitively crush the military before they will come to the table.”

“And what if they choose not to come to the ‘table’ as it were? The Romulans would die to the last child rather than be defeated.”

“Are you so sure?” the Admiral questioned. “Would the Romulans commit mass suicide rather than surrender to the Federation if we went to war?”

“I am – aware of the Romulan psychology.”

“I am not questioning your understanding of the Romulans, Spock. However the Romulans are not monolithic. Some of them would want to survive even if it was in captivity.”

“I do not dispute your reasoning, Admiral. But have you taken into consideration that the Minbari leadership may not have a choice?”

The Human eyes darkened. “I have thought of that possibility.”

“And what happens,” Spock asked slowly, “of the needs of the one, if a world is destroyed?”

Kirk stood up. “I can handle it. The needs of the one are not important in the scheme of things. I was prepared for a war with the Klingons and everything that that entails.”

“As were we all, Admiral. But we found a solution and this –war- didn’t occur.”

“No, it didn’t occur. We stopped ourselves without the help of the Organians this time.” He sat down and for a moment Spock could see the weight of worlds on his shoulders. “But it didn’t save David,” he whispered. “She blamed me. Carol never spoke to me after that last time. The famous James Tiberius Kirk, savior of the Earth and the Federation, couldn’t even save his only son. Those were her last words. She turned around and left. I was right there and I could do nothing except watch her leave.”

“It was an emotional response,” Spock said slowly, “one not entirely unexpected.”

“Those Klingon bastards killed my son.”

“The ones that killed your son are dead. Does that make you ‘feel’ happy?”

“Yes!” he growled.

His temper was rising and Spock stood there letting the emotions wash over him like a wave. And after a moment, the wave disappeared.

“I’ve given my life to the Federation and Starfleet. My name will be popular with new high schools. Carol, David, Miramanee, all gone, ships passing through the night.”

Proxima Star System

With a grace that indicated years of practice Krunge cradled his father’sBat'leth in his left hand and his hand disruptor in his right. The others carried disruptor rifles set on kill. Krunge specifically ordered his warriors not to use full setting. Blowing holes in the station and potentially opening themselves to vacuum was something he wanted to avoid. The corridors were surprisingly large and the lighting pale, not unlike Klingon lighting. Quickly the forty Klingons spread out to cover the others still burning their way into the station. Twenty more assault shuttles were creating their own opening as his had done.

Without warning, there was a grunt, a slight gurgle and one of his men slumped to the floor. A hole the size of a fist leaked blood and intestines. The warrior’s armor had done little to help him survive the hit.

First blood was theirs.

Within seconds, the previously empty corridor was filled with flowing white uniforms. The Ashen hit the Klingon intruders hard even as the Klingons roared their joy and excitement for the coming battle. Neutron pulse rifles burned into lightly armored Klingons. Naturally, the Klingon response was instantaneous and just as brutal. Disruptors slammed into Ashen bodies, disintegrating them, but the sight of their comrades turning into vapor didn’t deter them in the least. Within seconds there were bodies everywhere as purebred Minbari clashed with Klingon warriors. The battle was brutal and merciless. And both sides gloried in the resulting carnage. In such close quarters fighting the Ashen warriors and Klingons had quickly discarded their rifles and pistols in favor of personal weapons.

Krunge crashed into a wall, his face reeling from a blow delivered by a seemingly calm tattooed Minbari with milky white eyes. The enemy had smiled, actually smiled at him and in Klingon blood rage he attacked, forgetting his command, wanting only to remove the smile from the creature’s face. Krunge lunged at the Ashen who gracefully moved out of the way and backhanded him once more. Again the Klingon hit the wall and his mask, now a ruin, was thrown to the floor. A second later, his hands were straining to keep the warrior from pushing a truly wicked-looking knife into his nose and through the back of his head. The Klingons entire focus was on keeping that knife from finishing him off. The Ashen was tremendously strong, far more than the Captain expected and he was losing this contest of strength. He roared his defiance against the enemy and the more he did so, the calmer the Ashen became. Despite his efforts, the knife moved closer, its tip brushing against and then slowly into the opening of his nose. Fear, and the desire to live kept the knife from moving forward, however it was only a matter of time before he lost. The knife moved deeper and Krunge redoubled his effort.

Two more Ashen defenders opened up with their neutron rifles directly into an opening newly created by another shuttle. The blast slammed into the Klingons trying to exit. Two thirds of the Klingons died screaming before the Klingon survivors managed to fire back. One of the Ashen was disintegrated. The other was knocked from his feet and crashed into the Ashen trying to shove that wicked-looking knife up Krunge’s nose. All three of them went tumbling over bodies already littering the floor. There was too much noise for Krunge to hear anything thing other than the grunts and screaming punctuated by the occasional disruptor and neutron weapons being discharged. And at this point he didn’t care.

Exhilarated at being alive, he whipped out his knife, pressed the stub on the blade. The knife extended itself and he reveled in its feel in his hand. Immediately he attacked the Ashen who had come within a hair’s breath of killing him and discovered to his shock that the Minbari was female. Ignoring the fighting all around her, she was already coming for him with her knife after flinging the corpses of the Ashen who had knocked her away from her prey.

There was no slash and parry; there was no room. They were simply two enemies locked into a life and death struggle. The female was tremendously strong, the Klingon thought absentmindedly while trying to keep from being gutted. His own knife sliced out and severed the tendons in her right hand. Her knife dropped from the wound while her left fist slammed into his jaw with the force of a pile driver. Then she used her knee to attempt to crush his groin.

Now that hurt, he thought as he hit the wall once more. The pain could have been worse if his knife hadn’t penetrated her thigh, severing the artery thus blunting the impact. The Ashen warrior stumbled back, her mouth agape as free flowing blood stained her white armor, the infuriating smile fading as more blood flowed. Now her face showed the first indications of real anger. She was too close and far too dangerous for him to pull out his disruptor to take the seconds he’d need to shoot her. Instinctively, Krunge went for his other knife, however another threat presented itself.

An Ashen was moving towards him, ready to engage, his neutron pistol aimed for the Klingon’s face. Krunge had not time to feel anything. He rushed the Ashen, fully prepared to die in the attempt. The Ashen stopped , blinked in surprise. The middle of his stomach disappeared, disintegrating as a disruptor hit began to take its toll. The effect spread quickly, however it was painfully slow enough for its victim to be completely aware of what was happening. His eyes showed his terror and rolled up into his head just as his body vaporized. Krunge looked for the source of the shot and saw a young Klingon warrior, obviously wounded and unable to fight, carefully picking out high threat Ashen warriors to remove from the fighting. It was Kron, son of Thusha. The young boy barely three quarters through jak'tahlacould not handle blood wine to save his life, but he was handling his weapons very effectively. Was it dishonorable he thought? Right now he didn’t care and if they lived through this he vowed to teach the boy how to drink.

Krunge resisted the urge to spit at the dissipating mists as he turned to face the female who despite her wounds was advancing once more. Later he would admire the female’s courage and fighting ability but for now as he jumped back and used a discarded bat’leth to remove her head.

Around him Klingons were breaching the hulls and struggling to get into the battle. More and more Ashen surged through the crowed corridor eager to kill his fellow warriors. A huge Klingon named Swanch had lifted an Ashen into the air and threw him onto several others before he died from several knife wounds that some Ashen had inflicted upon him. Another Ashen had fired point blank into the face of one hapless warrior causing his head to cave in and his carcass to slump to the floor which was slick with blood. One Klingon, wild-eyed was firing his disruptor into the enemy with one hand while fending of a knife-wielding attacked with his curved, double-bladed cayth’th.

The initial fighting was dying down now as more Klingons joined the battle. Krunge stared at the fallen in shock. More than half of his command was dead and they had yet to breach the first door. Gone was the arrogance and thrill of battle. Now he was worried and that unknown to him would help him survive this night.

“Disruptors on full!” he yelled in the battle language of his race. He watched in satisfaction as the energy beams began burning holes through the three meter, crystalline re-enforced door.

Gorn Assault Squad Smaug-3

R’Barktak grunted as the message from P’Zokart scrolled across his heads-up display. The assault shuttle’s short-range sensors had mapped the internal structure of this section of the station, including the shambles their violent passage had created out of a once-orderly maze of service corridors. Most of the section was highlighted in red to indicate a lack of air and gravity, but now selected sections were returning to yellow and green, and the shuttle’s sensors were detecting rapidly-moving life-forms. At the same time, powerful jammers on board the assault shuttle were making the enemy’s internal sensors and communication all but useless.

The squad leader took a moment to evaluate the pattern of their advance. For the moment they were ignoring the trapped shuttle, and were clearly deploying to halt their advance. Easier to stop the tides, the Gorn mused.

“We have incoming Burners,” he hissed over the squad’s common channel. “At the speed they are moving, I don’t anticipate any heavy weapons. Make sure your shields are up and rotate by triads if they fall below two-thirds strength. No boasting-making on this hunt. First sign of crew-served weaponry, I authorize plasma grenades. But call your shot as you make it, we don’t have time to backtrack and re-arm.”

There were a few sub-vocalized grumbles, which R’Barktak chose to ignore. Despite the exploits of the female sub-adult cadre, this wasn’t a crippled hulk, drifting through deep space. This Ashen subspecies might well be stronger than their Minbari overlords, and overconfidence led only to lost prey and an honorless death.

Moving through airless corridors with the speed of endless hours of zero-gee practice, the squad cut through two gossamer-thin retaining walls to flank the World-Burner advance. R’Barktak shuddered. Mindless zealots they may be, but they certainly didn’t lack courage to live in such a flimsy habitat.

Reaching up and back with his right hand, the squad leader triggered the servos in the large dorsal equipment pod on his armor. The grips for his phaser-lance slid into his talon as it rotated and moved forward off the rack. He crouched down, Two and Three copying his motions, and watched the remote telemetry feed from the technical specialist. The Ashen had ceased their advance, probably because they hadn’t ambushed their intended prey as they anticipated.

“Now!” R’Barktak growled. Depressing the firing stud on his weapon, he jerked it upward, even as three beams of light sliced through the walls like they were vapor. The external audio sensors in his armor cut out as the whistle of escaping atmosphere rose to a deafening scream.

USS Enterprise

The door opened and Doctor McCoy entered looking anxious. “I heard yelling from the hallway. Did I miss anything?”

“Of course not,” Kirk snapped. “Join the party. What do you want?”

“A drink to start with,” he answered ignoring the tenseness in the Admiral’s voice.

“Over there.”

“I know where the good stuff is.”

“Of course, you do.”

McCoy’s glare was small but barely noticeable.

“I will not allow the Minbari to do destroy another world. I will not allow others for lose what I’ve lost. I will break them before it happens again. They call me the Warlord Kirk. It’s about time I lived up to that title.”

“Admiral...”

Kirk held up his hand and stopped him from continuing. “Choices, Spock. It’s all about choices. I choose to do this or I choose not to. I know what I am capable of. You asked me about the ‘needs of the one’. “I have literally seen myself, talked to myself. I’ve seen the darkness that I’m capable of. It is so easy to,” and he smirked, “‘mirror’ myself. But I choose not to. Doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“I finally got the report on the autopsies of the Minbari that attacked the Becerra station,” McCoy said sensing that it was a good time to interrupt.

“Well, don’t keep us waiting.”

“They weren’t the Minbari we’ve encountered. Genetics confirmed that they’re some type of off-shoot of the Minbari. And that’s not all. They’ve been genetically enhanced, modified for strength, endurance and their immune system is through the roof.”

“Interesting Doctor, but that doesn’t make them an offshoot.”

“There’s about a thousand years of genetic drift between these Minbari and the others. They’ve been enhanced, might have even give Khan a run for his money. They were bred for combat. We’re talking augments here, but whoever did this to them did a lousy job. Their DNA is breaking down faster than the Minbari that we know. Three generations and they’ll have almost fifty percent sterilization and that’s not even the half of it.” He grabbed his drink and sat down. “The thing is if they had mixed with the regular Minbari, most of the immediate problems would be self -correcting as much as it could be. The normal Minbari are not doing that great, either. That child that came in is suffering from a cascade genetic defect that’s a result of improper fusion between Minbari and…” The doctor hesitated.

“And what?”

“Human,” he said, surprising both officers. “The staff doctors checked three times, confirming what we already suspected from our earlier examinations. Both the grandfather and grandchild have Human DNA spliced into their genomes. The Minbari didn’t know who did such a thing, but I can hazard a guess.”

“Interesting.”

“You suspect the Vorlons?” Spock asked the Admiral, who was nodding slowly and beside him, McCoy was doing the same.

“They’re a likely suspect considering how every time we talk to the Minbari they mention the Vorlons as if they’re some type of deities.”

“They’re the power behind the power.”

“That is very likely, and it is something that we’re going to have to deal with sooner or later. I’m just surprised that they hadn’t entered the war yet. All the indications were there but for some reason they backed off – at least for now.”

“Admiral to the bridge.”

“That’s my call, gentlemen. We leave in twenty-four hours. Let’s make sure that the governor can keep his people in line, shall we?”

After the doors closed, McCoy flopped down in the nearest available seat and looked at Spock. “How is he doing?”

“As well as he can.”

“I almost think he’s enjoying being the Warlord,” growled McCoy. “When he came up with the idea to paint a big fat bulls-eye on his forehead it knew it was a bad idea. But, I didn’t expect this.”

“It was unanticipated that the entire warrior caste would choose to declare vendetta against the Admiral.”

The doctor would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire, not that it was even remotely humorous. “I’m still having nightmares about one of those huge ships ramming us.” During the last battle several Minbari warships tried to ram the Enterprise in an effort to kill the ‘Warlord’. Fortunately, the Enterprise was too fast and she wasn’t alone. Survivors make it clear that Kirk was destined for extermination. One Commander offered to surrender his ship and crew if he could talk to the Admiral face-to-face, even offered to come to the Enterprise alone. The commander of that ship didn’t count on being transported. Biofilters detected a small implant and as a security measure removed it before transport had been completed. When the Minbari warrior of the Blood Knives clan snapped his wrist, the previously unknown substances that would have detonated on contact failed. The sub-nuclear explosion didn’t happen and the Commanders’ crew initiated the self-destruct of their own ship to atone for the failure. “At least those transporters are good for something.”

“Indeed. I find their reasoning illogical. The Admiral may be the ‘face’ of their enemy but he has not ‘injured’ them as much as other crews of the allies.”

“Kirk is the face of the enemy,” said McCoy. “Killing him will make them feel better, probably Acaltha too. But my God! Even the Klingons wouldn’t go to these lengths. These people are, are…”

“Too emotional?” suggested Spock.

“I was going to say pig-headed, stubborn SOBs. Reminds me of Vulcans.”

Spock looked stared at the Doctor who was now smiling broadly. “Hardly,” he retorted. “After all they have Human DNA incorporated into their genome. I suspect any of the undesirable traits you’ve just mention must have their origins there – Doctor.”

“Dream on.”

Valen’tha orbiting Minbar

In the private chambers of the Nine, minus one, plus two the holographic system displayed the battle of Proxima in delayed time. What they observed was the past by twenty minutes, short enough to be considered almost real time, yet long enough to be unable to affect change. Sutain Larioha remained rigid as he and his subordinate witnessed the slaughter of the mighty Ashen fleet. The leader studiously ignored the Satais with their horrified expressions watching the battle. The enemy ships, the Klingons and the reptiles called Gorn, were making a mockery of the fleet’s defenses. In the beginning it hadn’t been so, but the dark ones adapted quickly, faster than his own and had exploited a weakness previously unknown to the Ashen war machine. Now the enemy had breached the command center and was fighting in the corridors, something never truly believed possible.

His plans to sterilize the Human planet have been crushed and the Ashen were on a brink of a defeat as great as the Minbari. “The Vorlons should have brought us into the war sooner,” he told Sutain Vou who nodded in quiet agreement.

“It appears that the mighty Ashen fleet is not doing much better than ours,” Satai Morann said out loud. His growing distain of the Ashen was well known in the upper echelons. His tone was sarcastic but in reality he was just as upset by the increasingly apparent outcome of the battle. So many ships littered space that it was hard for the mind to accurately follow or completely realize the enormity of the battle they were observing. “Your plans to strike a crippling blow to the Earthers seem more remote with even passing moment. You should redeploy your forces while there is still time.”

The almost seven foot tall Ashen turned slowly, facing Satai Morann who fearlessly glared back at him. “The Ashen are not cowards,” he answered. “If they are defeated then they will die drowning in the blood of their enemies. We do not retreat in fear like our cousins.”

“Standing and dying rather than retreating to regroup and save your people is not a sign of cowardness,” Coplann replied before Morann could supply a retort.

“Then why is Satai Delenn nowhere to be found?” Lord Vou whispered. Delenn had disappeared and no one knew where she was or how it was that she had left. Both the Minbari and the Ashen had looked; the first because she was one of their own and they were worried for her; the other to make sure that no one would accuse them of treachery. “Because of the Vorrin,” Vou responded with enough contempt to chill the room, “we submitted to your rules of engagement. That was an error on our part. You resisted the use of optional weapons that could have ended this war easily.”

Satais Morann and Coplann, both incensed, turned to face the Ashen combat lord. Bioweapons ‘had’ been considered as the war turned for the worse. But the fear of massive retaliation had defeated the suggestions although there were several warrior clans placing intense pressure of the Grey Council to reconsider their veto.

“There is no guarantee that those weapons would be successful at this late date,” Coplann said. “Furthermore, we cannot use them against the other Human worlds since we cannot get there. The temptation is strong but I will not condone the use of those weapons without achieving a complete and total victory.”

“It shows your weakness,” Sutain Larioha answered. “In the fight against the darkness, all things are acceptable in the crusade for victory. The Vorrin were right in asking us to fight. You are not worthy. You stand here concerning about what will happen and you do nothing but lament the destruction of your fleets and their crews to inferiors.”

“I do not see any glorious victory against the darkness by your fleet,” Satai Cadoni snapped back. “All I see is the death of your people and the eventual subjugation of mine. The enemy may be inferior, but by whose standards? Not mine.”

“My son speaks the truth,” Cadroni said. “If the Ashen fleet is destroyed, then I see little hope for our survival.”

Larioha and Vou couldn’t believe what they had just heard. Their cousins seemed to be on the verge of giving up.

“It is little wonder that the Vorrin abandoned you. We waste the blood of our people on the likes of you. Your leadership is tainted with fear and cowardness,” Larioha snapped before storming out of the chamber with his subordinate.

As the furious Ashen exited, Branmer was allowed entry. He bowed to the eight.

“What do you have to say?”

“There is no word of Delenn,” Branmer said slowly as he gathered his words carefully. “The Rangers are gone. Their ships, their families, their belongings and even their friends have not been seen in the last two weeks. I believe that there is a connection between Delenn and the missing Rangers.”

“You’re saying that Delenn has abandoned us?!”

“Not willingly,” he said with absolute conviction. “I believe they have abandoned us. The Rangers could be anywhere by now.”

“They believe that we’ve lost this war,” Morann said understanding what happened and why. “They are trying to save remnant of the people.”

“Then what do you propose we do?” asked Coplann.

“Many of our colonies have been lost, our docks and ships destroyed. So many of our best have been killed in this war. The Vorlons have left. The Human Warlord said that their general order would be implemented to destroy this world and our people. We can and will not allow this. We will not go into the night without tearing at the necks of our enemies,” Morann said. “Recall all of our ships, wherever they are, home. Let us prepare to make our stand here and now. We will follow the example of the Rangers and gather those who can be saved and prepare them to flee the coming storm.”

“Then you believe there is no hope?” asked a subdued Branmer. “Perhaps – should we discuss terms, open discussions with them?”

The only answer he got was silence. Above them the holographic imager showed two more Ashen ships ceasing to exist as the lizard ships and the Klingon animals continued to reap their deadly harvest.

Ashen Command ship Maqrian

“The Ashen United Front will never surrender,” Larioha announced as he headed towards the command center of the two thousand meter long ship. A step behind him walked Combat Lord Vou and twenty others. Their white, flowing attire and cache of weapons adorning their persons made an impressive sight. “Our cousins are weak. They will surrender and become enslaved to darkness.”

“Are you certain,” Vou asked. “The Warrior caste is worthy.”

Yes, but their leadership is not,” the High Lord said. “I am strongly contemplating terminating their Council and taking over for the good of us all. These people require a strong hand. I had not realized how weak they truly were until Delenn fled. They are all crippled.”

“Your orders.”

“I want all of our ships to come to Minbar. We will form a defensive perimeter and destroy all invaders. By my order, We release the forbidden weapons from their captivity. We will break the forces of the enemy here and then spread out and destroy all resistance.”

The group arrived at the bridge and the High Lord demanded an update.

“Shalytni Equotnna has informed us that he can not hold the command center and has offered the gift of his death in atonement. The Center is set to self-destruct in one hour.”

Larioha nodded slightly and the female warrior returned to her station. The loss had been surprising, more so than the Ashen had cared to admit. The plans to decimate Earth and prove Ashen superiority would have to wait now. There was no need to continue watching the humiliation of his people.

Larioha entered his chambers, discussing the elimination the Grey Council with Combat Lord Vou when he stopped suddenly. They weren’t alone. Both Males bowed as they spotted the Vorrin.

The encounter-suited alien merely stared at the two prostrated males. “A great mistake,” it said to them. “Unworthy. We will try again.” And with that the Vorlon faded into the darkness.

The two Ashen stared at one another, trying to understand what had just been said by the godling.

Larioha was the first to interpret what was said. “The Minbari will surrender,” he announced as the revelation hit him. They are unworthy of the Vorrin’s attention. That is why he came to warn us and why we were allowed to come here. We must try again.”

“Yes,” responded Vou. “We make our stand here in this system. We will be more diligent, stronger. The Vorrin want us to try again. If we fail then we are the ones who will be named as unworthy.”

“If we fail, then we must make sure that Minbar does not fall into the hands of the darkness. Better to die gloriously than to live as slaves. A few of us will be saved and we will try again. It does not matter when, only that we will.”

The Vorlon heard everything and silently left. The entire point of the message was lost. Hearing, they did not hear. But that was to be expected.