"What?"
"The Earthforce ships.... they've.... stopped."
"Stopped what?"
"No, Captain. Just stopped dead. They're not moving, not powering weapons. Nothing. The De'Molay and the Dark Thunder might as well be floating hulks. The Morningstar is just turning in circles, and the Saint–Germain looks to be operating at about quarter–strength."
"What about the Shadow ships?"
"Some are paralysed, a few others are moving sluggishly. Some of them are still advancing."
"He knew this would be too easy," muttered Corwin. "Whatever's happened.... he knew about it."
"Sorry, Captain? What are your orders?"
"Hit the Shadow ships that are still moving. Do not fire on Earthforce ships unless they pose a threat to us."
"Aye, sir."
Corwin sat back, feeling something throbbing beneath him, above him, all around him. He did not know what had happened, but he had a very uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling.
For one brief instant he thought he heard a scream, coming from somewhere far, far away.
In a place far from the fates of men and nations being decided at Proxima, Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, was talking to people who had been dead for ten centuries.
"I wonder if he understood," he was saying, walking slowly around the first Hall of the Grey Council. Memories of the terrible bloodshed and torture that had occurred in the second Hall still touched him, as did the vision of his death in this place. He was thinking about Kats, and her part in his vision.
He was thinking about Sonovar.
"I wonder if he understood why they betrayed him. I would think not. Marrain and Parlonn were warriors, raised in a different culture, a different world from him. I have no idea what the Vorlons put into his mind, but hypnosis, subliminal influence, years of lessons.... all of these are no match for a lifetime of training. Marrain and Parlonn were born warriors, in the days when the word meant something, when you served your lord unto death, to the last breath, to the last whisper.
"Whatever else Valen was, he could not be a warrior like that. The histories show it. He abolished the Morr'dechai, elevated the workers, ended the rite of denn'cha. His coming was a hurricane of change. And still.... I wonder if he truly understood why they betrayed him. I certainly did not know why I was betrayed.
"Until now, anyway.
"Love is a strange thing, would you not agree? I have never understood it myself, but then I am told that those who have experienced it themselves rarely understand it either. Hatred is something I do understand, all too well. That is where Valen mis–stepped. He understood love, but not hatred.... and it doomed him. It also doomed Marrain and Parlonn."
Stormbringer tapped slowly against the side of his leg as he walked around the circle. "How many of you understood? How many of my Grey Council would understand? The religious caste have always made a show of not understanding, and claiming that they are wiser in doing so than are we who claim to comprehend. It is possible they are right, although this is the first time I have ever accepted that as a possibility."
Slowly, he walked into the centre of the circle. The ghosts of nine Councillors watched him with silent eyes.
And one moment later, one of the columns was no longer occupied by a ghost of the past, but by a harbinger of the future. And then another. And another. And another.
And that was all.
Eyes darkening, Sinoval glanced quickly around the circle. Four. Only four. He could not see Kats' body, and that was welcome. Maybe Lanniel and the others had managed to save her. He hoped so.
But then he could not see Sonovar either. Or Kozorr.
He did not like this. He had seen the future, and known it for what it was. Had his careful manipulations come to nothing, or was this just a simple.... flux?
"I was expecting more of you," he said softly.
"We will be enough," said the first warrior. He recognised her, although by reputation only. Lanniel's sister, the daughter of Takier of the Storm Dancers clan. Tirivail, that was her name. Takier had been the most influential surviving lord to ally with Sonovar. He was not here either.
"Where is Sonovar?"
"Lord Sonovar thought this beneath his attention."
Now Sinoval was confused. His careful efforts to force the truth of his vision did not seem to have worked. Or maybe they had been about to.... and someone, or something else had interfered.
"And Kozorr?" he asked, casually.
Tirivail extended her pike. "No more words," she said.
They charged forward. The columns of light went out.
"Scorched Earth." Welles laughed, a sound entirely devoid of humour. "Scorched Earth, but who's going to do the scorching, hmm? Him, or you?"
David Sheridan did not reply. He was still holding the piece of paper in his hand, looking at it, trying to think. The Vorlons were based in the IPX headquarters. If the building could be destroyed, then so would they. And Clark if he was there.
But what was their plan? They couldn't do this directly. They would want to blame the Shadows for this. For one terrible moment, Sheridan wondered if he had not done exactly what Clark had wanted. The destruction of an entire dome at the hands of the Shadows would be a powerful tool.
But then he calmed himself. No. Clark had said humanity needed to be taught a lesson, as a punishment for choosing the wrong side. There had been something in his words that had implied.... more....
Much more.
"Scorched Earth," Welles said again.
"Will you stop staying that?" snapped Sheridan. "Do you have any idea what it means, or are you just trying to drive me crazy?"
"It's.... I don't know. It's a bit familiar. Clark's.... what is Clark up to?"
"He and the Vorlons want to punish humanity. They want to teach us all a lesson for choosing the Shadows instead of them."
"I wasn't aware we had a choice."
"Then you try explaining that to them. The Vorlons don't care about fair. They only care about what's right.... what's right by their twisted logic anyway. Anyway, they were going to punish humanity, and try to blame it on us."
"How long do you think they have had control of Clark?"
"A few years at least. I've been noticing.... unusual behaviour in him for a while, things that weren't connected to.... what we were doing to him. He was obsessed with Sinoval, if you remember, and eager to push for war with the Alliance, to bring things to this point."
"The Alliance, yes. This timing can't be a coincidence. The attack on Proxima was rushed. He wanted it to happen now. Just when he was ready. The attack is a distraction, something to draw all the Shadow ships away, all our ships away.
"Why?
"Because what he's doing is going to be public, and not instantaneous. There would be time for someone to stop it, if they weren't distracted." Sheridan started, and Welles smiled. "Clark isn't going to lay the blame on the Shadows. You're an abstract. This isn't about you, or me, or the Alliance. It's about the man in the street, and to him the Shadows are just our alien protectors, powerful, but distant. How many of them have even seen a Shadow?
"But Clark.... He's real. He's known, and he's our leader, someone who's been behind the alliance with the Shadows from day one. He's going to take all the blame on himself, and he's left that note as proof.
"He's going to turn the defence grid inwards. To the planet."
"They wouldn't," Sheridan breathed.
"If what you've told me is true.... then they definitely would. They...." Welles stopped, and paused.
There was a sudden shriek, and the air around them shimmered. The remaining Shadow flickered into view, screaming alien sounds, its alien body thrashing. Sheridan stumbled, moaning, pain tearing through his mind. He shrank to his knees as the Shadow fell, bone and joint torn apart.