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Chapter Sixty-Nine

War-bait Part Two

Proxima:

“…QuvHa'!” he muttered as died.

The Klingon corpse disintegrated quickly. Amid the weapons fire, the screaming and the howls of the dying none of the others even noticed.

***

…The Klingon warships broke upon the Ashen and split apart their hastily created formation, destroying a number of stately cruisers in a hail of energy weapons fire. But for many it was not enough, immolating the enemy was one thing, but personally watching the life fade eye to eye, drawing in their last breath with your own lungs, scenting the blood pouring from a wound made by your own knife… that was where true retribution would be found whether you were Ashen or Klingon.

Face to face. Oh, how Chang wished that he was leading the bloodied Klingon warriors to victory on the station. It would have been glorious. But the glory wasn’t his. The Gorn had snatched it from him. They had found the way to the command center and would get there long before his own warriors would.

Ashen Command and Control center

Several small internal explosions could be felt throughout the bridge command and control center, each one getting successively louder. Emergency systems were screaming for attention both inside and out. The scattering fields and electromagnetic shielding generators were overheating and failing at an ever increasing rate as the mobile suffered more and more damage.

Outside, the reserves fleet was on the defensive and the general consensus was that they couldn’t hold out against the Shadow’s servant hordes for more than twenty minutes. The Klingon animals were barely being kept at bay but only because of the horrendous sacrifice the Ashen were paying with their lives. The lizard creatures were another problem. It took a lot to kill one of them and the small squad was still advancing on the command and control despite everything the Ashen had thrown at them. The images recorded the battle of the muhio “Sl against the lizard drones and the Ashen were disappointed at the results. The hunters were strong but could not get through the drones’ armor although one finally managed. To the collective insult of the entire Ashen, the lizard drones seemed more amused than anything else.

Finally, Shalytni Equotnna was forced give the order. Five three foot thick crystalline –reinforced doors slammed shut which effectively isolated C&C from the rest of the station. The jeweled leader showed little emotion as he gave the order, however everyone could feel the disappointment of this failed engagement. Internal sensors were being destroyed, dismantled by energy weapons from the Klingon animals. They were not good soldiers but good warriors. Their victory wasn’t because of their tactics because their warriors died by the hundreds against the superior might of an Ashen warrior. There were simply too many of them and their superior weapons had ultimately prevailed whereas Ashen faith had not. His warriors were dwindling as they died fighting against the Klingon animals.

“Where are the enemy invaders?” Shalytni asked plainly.

“They continue to advance, Shalytni,” his First answered with a mild tension in his voice. “They approach our command deck.”

“Impossible,” he countered. They had gotten through the final defenses so quickly! But there was no malice at the thought of defeat, only calm acceptance.

“They have penetrated our outer defenses lord. Our warriors are unyielding but growing fewer.”

Sound like dulled thunder echoed in the room, the reverberation of a distant explosion carried through the crystal hull. Even through the shielded doors, the air tingled with sensations caused by the crackle of weapons and blast of grenades, sounds inaudible to Ashen ears but still carried through their bony skulls and vibratory receptors located in their ear structures.

The Leader of the Ashen ignored the danger to the station for a moment as he gazed at the three-dimensional screen at the battle taking place outside. Ashen ships followed one another into the ever after as crews bravely gave their lives to allow their command station a few more moments of life, Balls of light matched with twinkles and flickers of motion. Sunlight was reflected by massive shards of protective crystal cut and carved from the hulls of mighty Ashen warships. The stern of one ship bounced off the station, staggering the base as it crunched and then smashed into thousands of glittering pieces, a thing captivating to watch yet also unbearably sad.

“We have lost this battle.” Every eye on the command deck at once rose to look at him, wide in disbelief. “We have lost,” Equotnna repeated. “Send this message. All ships are to retreat Minbar. They are to make their stand there against the coming darkness.” A few seconds later the message was sent and the Shalytni nodded. “Scramble all communication codes. Initiate self-destruct. Destroy the commuter systems, now.

Nobody moved, unwilling or simply unable to comprehend the unfolding situation.

“Obey our words,” he snarled. “Swiftly, before it is too late. We have lost this battle. But the war will go on. Light prevails. The glory will be ours.”

He continued to watch the few data feeds that had survived. He saw Klingon animals, crescent blades in hand battling fiercely with his own warriors. Proudly his warriors slaughtered them like the vermin they were but there were too many, far too many. On another screen, he saw the ferocious lizards burning their way through ever closer to the central command. They had changed direction now, allowing the Klingon animals to battle their way to engineering.

“The defenses have failed,” his First confirmed. There was an explosion that impossibly buckled the door separating command from the rest of the station. “They are here.”

Precisely on cue the far door began to glow, emanating heat as energy weapons converged on it from the far side. He could feel the heat growing, the door illuminating the dim room.

“Prepare your weapons,” he ordered.

Each of his staff abandoned their posts, drawing hand guns or blades, assuming the classic Ashen dueling stance. Each was an expert warrior, an artist, yet their opponents favored a more crushing technique in battle, one that artists could not compete with. The Ashen lord pulled out his own weapon, a favored neutron beam weapon one of only three of its kind. He flexed his hand were the ring was. Today it would be used. Beside him his favorite muhio ‘Sl growled restless and waiting for the coming confrontation. The creature was a third larger than the others and especially bred for war. He would enjoy watching his pet tear into lizard flesh.

“Why did this happen?” his First asked on the brink of despair. “Where did we fail?”

“We did not fail,” he answered. “We failed to succeed.”

“Was our faith in the gods too weak? Did we displease them? Why have they not granted us victory?”

“We don’t know,” Equotnna answered genuinely. “I just don’t know,” he announced this time in first person, as he inputted the final codes that would allow the self-destruct take the entire station to glory in fifteen minutes time.

"What shall we do?"

"We die."

The door disappeared. A huge lizard in tattered armor carrying a huge weapon hissed at them. Behind the monstrosity were others of its kind lumbering forward snarling viciously.

“World burners,” the leader of the Lizard drones said.

Equotnna glared at the creature impassively. The multi-faceted structure of their eyes were fascinating, quite unlike anything he’d seen outside of an insect. Behind them the doors had disappeared completely, evidence of the power of the alien weapons. “World Burners?” he echoed. “No, we are light bringers, destroyers of the darkness that rule you and your kind.”

The Ashen snarled back.

It was time to die.

The Shalytni pressed the self-destruct button, raised his hand and activated his ring as powerful blue lights illuminated the room. The gravity manipulator was a device reserved only for the most powerful of leaders. He pointed at one of the lizard drones and activated even as his warriors launched themselves at their enemies. The targeted lizard found itself writhing in agony as its weight increased over fifty time’s normal gravity. The floor buckled as the creature hissed in agony. His pet, seeing weakness attacked R’Barktak the instant before the gravity generator released him.

Yedor, Minbar

The protest in the Valen’wa Circle had grown. Temples and education centers throughout the city were closed. As a result, more people joined the protest. The authorities soon found out what the protestors wanted. They thought that the government had not done enough to reach out to other worlds in peace, that it had gone too far in punishing people for the deaths of Dukhat, and that it had compromised too much of Minbar’s sovereignty in favor of the Ashen in their zeal for victory over the enemies in the War of Sorrows. They also demanded freedom of information. This particular demand embarrassed the Ministry of Information which was only following orders coming down from above. In an effort for planetary security, the Ministry had shut down the official global communication network to stop the discussion of the self-immolation at the Ranger Temple, and now of the developing protest in Yedor’s central circle. The only things coming through the network was the manipulated reports of the war’s progress and the loud reports and analysis of the Norsai massacre committed by the barbarian Klingons who were deemed as no better than the Humans or Dilgar.

The people never had to think about their freedom of information until recently, because for centuries, if there was something that they needed to know, they were told just what they required and no more. Minbari respected the privacy of others by not prying into their affairs. It was tradition. The conflicting reports of the enemies’ conduct, of the war’s progress and of the alleged Minbari victories, caused the people to talk among themselves, to share their views and knowledge. More often than not, they learned things about everything around themselves before they were told what they needed to know. Thus, they realized how easy it was for the government to manipulate how much they knew and how they perceived events in the galaxy. Some perceptive people have commented that, “you never know how much you appreciate something until you lose it.”

It was true.

The tranquility of the rigid Minbari traditional society had kept the turmoil concealed and the resentments suppressed. The self-burning of a priest at the Ranger Temple woke Minbari society. The various ministries, under orders from the Grey Council, and the Council of Caste Elders worked to maintain that tranquility. It was too late: the people had opened their eyes to the role that the Ashen had in their governance. The public execution of the young dissident by the Ashen was the last straw –

– Hence, the protest at the Valen’wa Circle in the center of Yedor.

Usually, the plaza was used for the Shi’Ki installation ceremony in which a new Chosen One of the Grey Council was presented to the people before he or she was inaugurated at the Great Shrine of the Ancients on an island at the southern edge of the capital city. To honor the murdered Dukhat, there would be no Chosen One for ten years. On one side of the circle, the Chosen Palace contained the various ministries and the assembly rooms for the Council of Caste Elders, which was immediately below the Grey Council in terms of authority, where nine members from each caste, each Elder representing a clan, met. The Chosen Palace itself was built as if someone initially wanted a crystal pyramid and changed his mind after the first several stories, deciding to have a large geodesic dome that is flanked on two sides by tall slender crystal spires. Crystal spikes lined the government building’s front. On all sides of the plaza, more slender crystal spires, spikes and buttresses curved up from other buildings and temples, with diamond-like crystal octahedrons added here and there for visual differences. The ground itself, now obscured by the crowd, was a lake of glass, smooth, dimly reflective and seamless as if water had flooded the plaza and solidified permanently. On the other side of the Circle of Valen’s Peace was the walled enclosure of the White Tower, headquarters of the Sisters of Valeria. All this would make the protest highly visible to the powers that be.

And it was.

Proxima star system:

R’Barktak knew agony. The weapon, some sort of gravity generator had slammed to the deck of the command and control station despite his every protest. The pressure increase and a bone in his forearm broke increasing the pain. He roared and answered by another roar as one of the huge hunters jumped on top of him seeking his throat. It was unaware as to how he did it but his uninjured arm had grabbed the creature’s thick throat and kept it from clamping down and ending his life. It was however a losing battle as the Gorn’s strength waned. Tonight however wasn’t his die to die.

His Number Five crashed into the creature and the fight between the two was on. The other members of his squad had begun firing their weapons killing everyone in sight.

Equotnna fired his pistol, bathing Number Two in neutron fire and the unarmored Gorn died before he hit the ground. There was no time to revel in its death as another of the lizard aliens pointed its weapon at his and fired. The creatures were notoriously slow, but obviously fast enough to send a reddish-white beam into his chest. He felt a moment of intense heat and then another strange sensation he couldn’t identify. He died long before his body faded from the effects of the phaser blast.

Seasoned Ashen warriors discarded knives, and bladed weapons for heavier weapons. One Ashen male however threw his knife skewering the eye of a Gorn whose helmet had been lost in earlier battles. The creature screamed and ripped the blade out from the socked, evidently more angered at the effectiveness of the blade rather than the wound itself.

The reptilian skin was thick and hard to penetrate but it wasn’t impossible sans armor and the Ashen realized this. But that realization came too late as wide beam energy weapons swept the room killing the world-burners as they fought and died.

***

First Lord of warriors Wilnakju threw the corpse of the Klingon warrior from him as if he were discarding a piece of garbage. More than a dozen had died by his hand and it wasn’t enough. Three hundred of his finest had been thrown against the Shadow servants and it hadn't been enough. The enemy had too many re-enforcements at their disposal and their weapons were too formidable. Taking a second’s respite, he picked up the blade of one of the fallen Klingon animals. He looked at the curve of the metal blade. The jagged edges and single handed grip fit his hand well but the mek'leth as they had named it was too primitive compared to the diamond hard crystalline eloquence of the weapons of his own people.

The flashing blue light now dominating the room made his heart sink. Self-destruct had been activated, meaning that C&C had been lost to the enemy. The surviving ships would retreat to Minbar. The entire battle was now known to be lost. This battle here was just a waste of time.

The attitudes of the other Ashen were the same. From a controlled fight, the Ashen went into a frenzied-orgy of destruction; all focused upon the Klingon animals. The battle increased in its fury as Ashen no longer cared whether they lived or died.

GCF Fires of Regulus

“Stalker-leaders R’Barktak has reported in,” reported K’Zakkit to his Commander. “Communications jamming and their subspace scattering field has been terminated. He has been wounded and the hunt-band has lost one of their numbers.”

“The loss is regrettable,” grunted S’Garak. “But the glory is ours. We can now transport directly. The Klingons have failed to achieve their directive at engineering. How many hunt-bands will the Stalker-leader require to secure the station?”

“K’Zakkit relayed the message. “R’Barktak requests immediate extraction! The world burners have activated the self-destruct. They will be unable to return to the assault shuttles in time.”

“Prepare for immediate transport.”

“They have the Ashen standard in their claws. Stalk-leader requests seven to beam up, including two pets?”

“Pets?”

“Acknowledged, Pack Commander. They’ve been stunned, however he believes that these ‘pets’ would be appreciated. Prizes of battle.”

“Move to transport range and transport the hunt-pack immediately,” ordered S’Garak. “Inform the shuttle pilots of the transports and advise them of the current situation. They are to remove themselves and their ships from the station immediately. Inform the Klingons that self-destruct of the world-burners command station is imminent and would respectfully advise them to remove their forces as soon as possible.”

“Transports of all hunt-packs completed. The shuttles are starting their return toFires of Regulus.”

Qo’noS’ glory:

All in all, General Chang was pleased at the progress his ships were making. The enemy had proven itself worthy of battle and had the honor of providing his forces the glory of combat. His warriors were bloodied as they had not been in years. The command station was isolated and would make a prize worthy of the blood spilled to take it. The Ashen-Minbari were fleeing the battle now and his forces had taken the field. Kirk would be envious of this victory despite victories of his own, Warlord Kirk, a weak human playing at strength. He would show him what true strength was.

His people had performed well against a foe that had redeemed itself well. The weak, stupid and unlucky had been weeded out and what was left would be a joy to command when he took the battle to Minbar. He care little of the foolish commanders of the ships lost in battle, especially the ones that had chosen glory over common sense. There was no glory in purposely joining battle without an adequately prepared ship as some had. Several houses had sent vessels that had practically no defensive shields to the rear of the ships. Never present your back to the enemy seemed glorious and steeped in honor but in reality it got you killed. Many houses would mourn the loss of members and would never recover from the stupidity of the heads. But it mattered little. Others would take their place and the Klingon race would be all the better for it.

The few Earth warships that came to liberate their own star system, bulky and slow as they were, had done their part, he admitted. They knew they wouldn’t stand a chance against the Ashen so the EarthForce commander had wisely held his ships back attacking already wounded vessels, finishing them off allowing the real ships to battle their equals. Against a more powerful foe, it was a commendable tactic and an effective one.

However, what had really displeased him was the performance of his newest battleships. They were over-gunned and sluggish, unable to match the turns of the enemy in the heat of battle. The dual-layered deflector shields drained power at an unacceptable rate. One ship was lost as the Ashen had swarmed it from all sides. The Captain had extended his range too far and had been isolated and butchered like rotten meat. In comparing them to the greatest of Federation vessels it was undefeatable, but it lacked the power, speed, and versatility of heavy ships of the Gorn allies and he knew that their performance was being evaluated just he was evaluating theirs. No matter, these were prototypes anyway, sent to be tested in battle. His report would be stinging, no doubt resulting in some engineers being dismissed for their incompetence (in the most brutal way possible he suspected). But his people would build a better design and then – let the galaxy beware. It would be the Federation’s time to play catch-up.

The fleeing Ashen ships had no where to go except to retreat to the home system and make their stand there. That battle would be worth of song when he razed that world. What was left would be given to Kirk and the federation as a consolation prize. So it came as somewhat of a surprise that the Ashen-Minbari would have allowed the station to be taken.

“General, the Gorn have said that the Ashen have set their auto destruct. They are removing their warriors from battle.”

“The dogs of war are muzzled and vacated as there are no more enemies to rend,” he muttered. Sensors had not indicated a buildup of any type on the conquered station but he had no doubts that the Gorn were telling the truth. “Send the recall order. Move us into transporter range now.”

Minbar:

Shai Alyt Mazetch had taken up defensive positions throughout Yedor as if to repel outside attacks rather than to counter a civilian uprising. He wished he had stayed at Nath’Kan to ferret out and arrest Kodell and Draal, but he had to come and solve the problem of this so-called protest. He could not believe that the people would dispense with tradition so heedlessly in the middle of a war, especially one that could and might engulf their home world in flames. It was treason.

For the purposes of keeping order in the city outside of the Valen’wa Circle, Mazetch had commandeered the Temple of Varenni for his base of operations. The pre-Valen ancient temple, situated outside Yedor, sat nestled in the rocky crags of a mountain peak on the brow of a large canyon. The temple was completely unlike modern Minbari architecture. Although the entrance was triangular in an A frame, the structure itself consisted of two circular parts, a smaller and a larger part, each surmounted by a low dome. Instead of fragile crystal, it was built of sturdy stone and concrete. It was the place where leaders were chosen when the castes fought for dominance over the others. The two opposing leaders would climb into the Star fire wheel and whoever would remain, sacrificing their life would earn the right for their caste to lead. After Valen formed the Grey Council and established a lasting balance in Minbari society, Varenni was little more than a relic, though like many ancient places on Minbar it was carefully preserved through the centuries.

And it was a strong and easily defensible location, which was the biggest factor in Mazetch’s choice in commandeering the temple. He looked around the heart of the temple, a more or less flat space surrounded by natural rocky formations. Above and surrounding them were glass-enclosed skyboxes. The floor was natural, with a circle of basketball-sized stones surrounding the center, the place of the Star fire Wheel. The place was dimly lit. Here, Mazetch could speak to an assembly of warriors in the temple or use the temple’s planetary-strength broadcast to communicate either with other armies or even to the whole world. A single dark corridor leading to the temple entrance was the only way in and out, a perfect defense point.

A warrior aide ran up to Mazetch from that corridor. She bowed. “Shai Alyt, there is a communication for you.”

He thanked her and turned to a portable comm. screen. It activated and Mazetch was surprised to see Sutain Larioha. Mazetch knew of him but he had never seen him. The Ashen indeed looked Minbari but for the more angular face structure, the milky pupil-less eyes, the spikier look of the headbone, and much more prominent spotting along the face and arms. A Minbari of the old blood. He quickly recovered and bowed. The Ashen were an ally, after all.

“Sutain Larioha,” he said by way of greeting.

Larioha’s jeweled tattoo glittered as he spoke. “You know me. I don’t have to explain myself, then. Good. Is there any sign of Kodell and Draal since their escape from Yeya’la?”

Mazetch was surprised again. Why would the Ashen leader be concerned with a trivial domestic matter? “No. Kodell and his accomplices were able to slip away into the countryside. Kodell is likely to head for Yedor.”

“Not to his home in Sujenn Province?”

“No. He won’t bring danger to his family or his ancestral estate.” Mazetch again wondered why Larioha was asking of this. “Kodell is much more a creature of the temple than his warrior father.” He remembered the report of Kodell’s feats in the Terada Inn at Yeya’la, so he added, “or at least he was.”

Larioha’s face gave no clue of his thoughts. However, something about his gaze disturbed Mazetch. He did not know why. “Kodell must not remain free, Shai Alyt. He defied the Grey Council and such defiance cannot take root, or rebellion will flourish.”

“I have a small force, fifty of my best warriors, searching for him. Kodell will not escape us.”

“By all means, do that. And there is the matter of the protest in Yedor. He must not lead it. It must end.”

“Of course. We are assisting the law-guardians to keep order as much as we could. The protest has been contained within the Valen’wa Circle.”

“That is insufficient. Send your army against the protestors. Attack them.”

“What?” whispered a shocked Mazetch. “Sutain, Minbari do not kill Minbari. To attack the protest is to court disaster. I will not do it.”

For the first time, Larioha looked angry. It was only for a mere moment. “Clearly, you do not know about recent developments. I will forgive your insolence this once. Shai Alyt, I am the Del’Nilbae. The Grey Council has given me the authority. You will obey me.”

The news stunned Mazetch. It meant that this Ashen was now the military dictator of the Minbari Federation. Such power had not been held since the days when clans fought clans and a ruler or dictator would rise out of the ancient wars to rule over the castes only to be replaced by other lords desiring the mandate. Valen was the last to hold the mandate, though given voluntarily by the newly formed Grey Council. Now this Ashen held the mandate. By having the mandate, Larioha was effectively the Grey Council himself.

But how…? Mazetch mentally shied away from that question. It had too many uncomfortable implications. Duty and tradition demanded that he obey. If the Grey Council has given the mandate to Larioha, then so be it. His understanding was not required, only obedience.

Mazetch bowed his acceptance. “Yes, Del’Nilbae.”

Larioha looked pleased as the comm screen winked off.

It was then that Mazetch realized what it was about the Ashen’s gaze that bothered him. Larioha’s pale eyes gleamed with the madness of fanaticism and…he had not blinked the entire time.

Proxima Star system

Wilnakju was dead, cut in half by a Klingon disruptor. His blood flowed from his body joining the ever growing river of Klingon, muhio ‘Sl and Ashen blood filling up the corridors. Not that the combatants really cared as they were too busy trying to survive. Here and there, pockets of Klingons disengaged from the bloodbath by the expediency of matter-energy transporters, however the majority of the warriors were in too close proximity with their Ashen counterparts tearing at their throats, to be effectively secured from impending destruction.

“No!” roared Chang as he realized what was about to happened.

He slammed his fists into the command console while fearful subordinates backed away. Other Klingon commanders roared in defiance as their transporter failed to get a lock on Klingons fighting and dying on the station with their enemies at such close proximity. Klingon transporters were designed to get warriors to the battle, not necessarily to bring them back just as quickly. In a hundred years transporter technology would be able to do such a feat, but not now.

Commendably, the Gorn ships were transporting Klingons out of the station without being asked. But the great diabolical force, that cosmic entity known to Klingons known as M’arkHas’tH the fiendish had decided to interfere with his plans. No plan survived contact with the enemy and Chang was witness to a glorious victory turned into ash-filled failure. Worse, he could see it coming. There wasn’t enough time.

“Transport all within range!” his voice thundered. “Kill the Ashen as they materialize!”

“Another group has beamed onboard.”

“Continue!” Chang ordered in harsh battle language.

***

In the transporter room, eight exhausted Klingons looked around the room in surprise. Young Kron, son of Thusha, suffering from several nasty cuts and the superficial wound from his head was the first to realize where they are and started laughing. The others around him were doing the same. The young warrior still grasped the two hand disruptors that had saved so many of his comrades. Everyone one of the Klingons surrounding the small warrior had been saved at least twice by his accuracy. Every single one of them planned to make him an honorary member of their respected houses. One of the elders even had a couple of daughters that he would be honored to introduce him to. If he survived the experience, then he would make a good addition to the family.

***

General Chang was coldly furious. This wasn’t the plan, not his intention. The station would destroy itself long before his men could be retrieved. An honorable death true, but a waste of valuable resources, something he wanted to avoid. Less than thirty warriors had been removed from battle in the last two minutes. Characteristically, Chang didn’t roar, he growled which made him all the more intimidating. “There is not…”

There was a flash.

The twin quantum singularities that powered the station were released from their confinement fields. The safeties were released freeing the twins to undergo uncontrolled reactions. In two microseconds both imploded, shrinking and compacting to the size of a helium atom. The force of the implosion contracted the station along with it shrinking the massive four kilometer long station to the size of a baseball. Three more microseconds passed before the twins reached their failsafe point. Unable to shrink any further, the forces rebelled and fought their way to freedom. The resultant release of energy vaporized everything within a twenty-kilometer radius. There was absolutely nothing left except a rapidly dissipating sphere of energy.

“Too late,” he intoned emotionlessly.

“General, the Gorn commander contacts us,” replied comm-ops.

Chang slowly waved him to open the channel. He didn’t want to speak to the Lizard right now, but protocol dictated that he had to. They were allies after all - just like Kirk.

“We grieve at your loss. Your hunters will be missed. We will send you the Ashen standard to honor them when we transport your warriors to your ships.”

“Acknowledged,” Chang said and ordered the channel closed. The reverie of the Klingons screaming victory and roaring to the preverbal heavens for comrades traveling there were ignored.

He’d just been personally insulted by the Gorn on top of everything else. They’d honored him with a trophy his people hadn't earned by right of combat. Perhaps they didn’t know what they’d done.

Perhaps they did.

But one thing was sure. The Ashen would pay for their effrontery when he walked in pools of their blood on Minbar. The honor for the loss of his legions would be retrieved by the deaths of millions. It was the right thing to do and his name would then preside over that of James T. Kirk and history would judge who was the better warrior.

Minbar:

When the orders came down, the warriors did not unanimously accept them. Some even abandoned their posts in protest. Eventually, Shai Alyt Mazetch had to summon troops from other provinces and some of the ships in orbit because most of the local troops were too sympathetic with the protestors. Meanwhile, Mazetch systematically established checkpoints throughout the capital city. Once done, the troops were ready at several points around Yedor’s central plaza.

Mazetch gave the order. The army marched toward the Valen’wa Circle.

Valen’tha

In orbit above Minbar

Satai Coplann watched the ships in orbit around Minbari through the window. None of the Satais wore their grey robes and they were not in the Council Chamber, but this was a Council meeting, nevertheless.

“We have betrayed Minbar.”

Hedronn had to agree. He looked around at the other Council members gathered in his suite. They all looked discomfited by Cadroni’s pronouncement. The two remaining Religious Satais sat in chairs while Hedronn sat with his fellow Worker Satais in a sofa. The one Warrior Satai stood with his back to them, hands clasped at the back.

They agreed to meet in Hedronn’s private suite because they suspected that the Ashen planted eavesdropping devices in the Council Chamber. The idea was a great offense to the Grey Council’s honor and sanctity but it was the only explanation for how Larioha always seemed to know when come and participate in their meetings. His knowledge of what was said in the last meeting seemed to confirm that suspicion. It pained Hedronn to know that at least two Satais supported Larioha, both Warriors. If it pained him, a Worker Caste member, he wondered how much it pained the Warrior Satai Coplann.

“We have betrayed Minbar’s trust,” declared Cadroni. “We must do something about that.”

“But how?” wondered Kalonnon aloud.

“We must save Minbar.”

Coplann turned away from the window. “We have failed. As Cadroni said, we have betrayed Minbar’s trust. Worse, we have betrayed Valen’s trust.”

Teshana looked up at Coplann and her eyes reproached the Warrior. “Men always believe they are in control of everything around them. When they find out they are not, they think they have failed, instead of learning a simple truth women already know.”

Coplann only scowled.

Sherann said, “We have traded our sovereignty for order and victory. We have made a deal for a short-term gain for long-term pain. That is costing our soul. Victory will be as bleak as losing.”

Hedronn agreed. “For the Ashen, as for us, the victory of the Light is all. However, their methods and conduct leave much to be desired. They have made the Ashen servants of Chaos.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “They speak of their purity and of victory for the Light while their deeds abandon the Light.”

“If that’s true, why would the Vorlons favor them?”

Hedronn, along with the others, did not like hearing Sherann’s question. It carried uncomfortable implications. No one answered it.

A chime sounded at the door. Everyone tensed. Technically, what they were doing was not wrong, but that would not stop damaging suspicions from breeding.

There was nothing to do about that now. Hedronn went to the door, glancing over his shoulder at his associates. He opened the door and there was Satai Morann standing there.

The Councilors did not relax. Morann did not keep his agreement with Larioha a secret.

“Oh! Um, I was looking for Coplann.”

Coplann stepped forward. “Here I am. What is it?”

The younger Warrior Satai fidgeted under the stares of the Priests and the Workers.

“Tell me,” ordered Coplann.

“We got the reports from Proxima…” Morann trailed away as he nervously looked at the others.

Coplann again said, “Tell me.”

Morann gave only three simple words: “The Ashen lost.”

The Councilors stirred at the news.

Hedronn stepped up beside Coplann. “How? The Ashen promised a victory!”

“It’s the Klingon animals and those reptiles, the Gorn.” Morann was looking more and more distressed by the minute. “The Ashen starbase at Proxima is destroyed and the surviving ships are coming to Minbar. The survivors will make their stand with us.” The acknowledgement of the loss at Proxima served only to deepen the depression palpable among the gatherers. The announcement of that defeat was as painful as a knife wound to the heart.

“But what about the hyperspace disruption? Nothing can come into Fi’Ardbarae yet.” The question came from Teshana.

“The Ashen believe that the larger of their capital ships can cut through the disruption so they will lead convoys of surviving ships into Fi’Ardbarae. Apparently they have some form of subspace navigational aid that they neglected to inform us of.” Morann looked up at Coplann. “They will be here in three days.”

When Morann was gone and the door closed, Coplann said, “Morann knows. He knows about what we’re doing. I saw it in his eyes. But he will remain silent about his knowledge. For now.”

Sherann jumped up from her seat. “Ra’sh ta’al Quith!” she swore. “This changes things!”

Hedronn agreed with Sherann’s swearing. A plague of misfortune, indeed.

Cadroni stood up and said, “Sherann is right. The Ashen have lost their credibility.”

Sherann interrupted, “so have we! We gave Larioha the mandate! In Valen’s Name, we’ve made him Del’Nilbae!”

“He forced our hand,” reminded Coplann.

Cadroni nodded. “Even so, we have betrayed our trust. To redeem ourselves, we must save Minbar.”

“Again, how?” asked Kalonnon.

Cadroni looked determinedly around at the other Councilors. “We must betray the Del’Nilbae.”

Coplann barked a dark laugh. “In Valen’s Name! What’s one more betrayal?”

Cadroni recognized the question as rhetorical and an expression of frustration, so he ignored it. “Satai Delenn had been pressuring for negotiations with the UFOPers. They failed, yes, but it was because we did not support her. She was right all along.”

“So we send a peace envoy to the Warlord Kirk? How do we know he won’t shoot the envoy on sight?”

“I admit it’s a gamble. Minbari do not kill Minbari. That is our greatest law. Yet we are allowing Larioha break it in our name. We must remind our people, the Ashen and ourselves why we are Minbari, and they, merely Ashen.” Cadroni paused to let that sink in. “This will be a covert mission. The Ashen, least of all Larioha, must not learn of this. We will send a ship to find and meet the Warlord Kirk.”

“The last reports place the Warlord in the Shengol System,” put in Coplann helpfully.

“Then the envoy will go to Shengol in the hope that we can end this war. Are we in agreement?”

The Satais exchanged uneasy glances. Traditionally, they would make themselves anonymous in their grey robes and hoods, and use their pillars of light to vote. Staying in the light meant a yes vote, while turning the light off meant a no vote. Here, in Hedronn’s quarters, there was no such luxury as anonymous voting.

Therefore, they did one thing they could do: raise their hands.

Cadroni did not have to count the votes: it was unanimous. “It is decided. I do not have to describe how important this peace mission is. We have little time left before the UFOPers come and attack our homeworld. The lives and soul of our people are at risk. This must go well. There’s no other choice.”

“If Larioha finds out despite all?” Kalonnon was clearly referring to the possibility that Morann may report to Larioha. Hedronn noticed that Coplann did not bristle at the implied accusation. It was a measure of the times and their desperation.

“Then…we must instruct the envoy to request protection from the UFOpers against the Ashen. Because the Ashen won’t be forgiving. But then, neither are we,” he added completely aware of the irony of the statement.

“What about the Vorlons?” insisted Kalonnon. “We could go to them, ask them to protect us. The Ashen wouldn’t dare defy the Vorlons.”

“They have left us. They have abandoned us.” Cadroni took a deep breath. “I could barely believe I’m saying this, but like the Ashen, the Vorlons may have, in their zeal against the Shadows, succumbed to the Darkness.”

Sherann’s hands flew up to her throat. “Impossible! We revere them! They favored us!”

“Favored like useful pets until these pets no longer pleased their owners. Perhaps it’s time we make our own destiny?”

“And if the only way out is for Minbar to surrender?” Hedronn did not like it but he had to drag the question out of himself.

For a while, Cadroni said nothing. Finally: “We are losing this war. The enemy is at the gates. And if the only way the Minbari people can survive is to surrender…then we’ll surrender. The Warlord ‘is’ a danger but his Klingon allies are worse. Better the enemy you respect than the enemy you dread.”

“Then what shall we do?”

“Send an envoy to the warlord.”

“But the Ashen will never agree to this.”

“We are not the Ashen. We are Minbari and we choose, not them.”

“They will attempt to stop us.”

“Not if they are unaware of our plans. So go and prepare. We shall meet with this human. Pray to Valen that he isn’t the monster we think him to be.”

“And if he is?”

Hedroon’s silence spoke volumes. Then after an eternity, he sighed and the sound chilled everyone’s soul. “There is a Shai Alyt who will traverse the hyperspace storms to get to our destination. Will any of us volunteer?”

“I will go,” Cadroni said.

“As will I,” Coplann announced a moment later. He looked around at the rest of the somber faces staring back at him. “I-I wish Delenn was here.”

TBC

Next: What happened to Delenn?

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