"They're trying to kill you," she said simply.
"What?" Tears streaked his face, but he didn't notice them. For the first time he could see something new, and she filled his vision. She was the only thing he could see.
"They're trying to kill you. They're trying to make you kill yourself. Don't let them win, David."
"Who...? Why would anyone try to kill me?"
"The Vorlons. David.... the war's over. They're trying to mop up loose ends. That's all you are to them now. A loose end. You.... think too clearly. You have too much compassion. You're a potential threat to them, and so they want you dead."
"They killed Carolyn. They destroyed my ship and they killed her."
"I know," she whispered, moving up close to him. A spasm of pain flashed across her face. "I felt it. She was too independent. She knew her own name, and that was too much for them."
"Then it was my fault," he whispered. "What they did to her was.... my fault. If I hadn't talked to her, hadn't tried to.... free her, then...."
"No!" she snapped. "It was not your fault. It would never be your fault. They are the ones who stuck her in there. They are the ones who killed her. They're the ones who tried to force you to kill yourself. And they're the ones who are going to stick me in that damned network of theirs if they get the chance."
"You? Lyta, get out of here! Now! Don't let them...."
She put one finger on his mouth, silencing him. "I was going," she said. "I was. Then I.... sensed your pain. I sensed what they were doing to you. I couldn't let them kill you. So.... I came back. I couldn't let them kill you, David. We'll need you. All of us will. You are a good man. Don't let them win."
"What was the point of it all, Lyta? All that fighting, and for what? How are we better off than we were before?"
"We aren't.... but it isn't over yet. The war, the true war, isn't over. I'm going to find Sinoval. I'm going to join him, and help him as much as I can. He's the only one who scares them. He's the only one who can...."
"Lyta.... someone I loved died recently. Was that them, too? Was it just a coincidence I learned about it today?"
"It may have been," she whispered. "They'll do whatever is necessary to get what they want."
"I can't bear this," he cried. "Another war! I just want it over."
"So do I," she said softly.
Then she kissed him.
"After all this time.... I can hardly believe it."
Delenn smiled. For as long as either of them could remember, they had known only war. It had begun over a decade and a half ago, and those years had been marked by suffering and loss and heartache. Both of them had lost far too many they loved. She had said goodbye to Draal, Neroon, Jenimer, Dukhat, her father. He had lost his entire family, so many friends. Both of them had lost their son.
And now it was over.
"What will we do now?" she asked, still smiling.
John looked at her. "Hmm?"
"Well.... we now no longer have the entire galaxy to save every morning before breakfast, so we will have to find something else to occupy our time. No doubt it will be very boring."
He smiled with her. "I think boredom is something I can get used to. It'll be a change if nothing else, but I don't think we can start planning a glorious retirement just yet."
"No. After all, we do have to rebuild everything that was destroyed."
"And make it better this time."
"Exactly. We have an opportunity to make everything better this time around. But I don't think the galaxy will begrudge us a little time to ourselves. After everything we've done, we deserve a little holiday."
"And what to do with all that free time, I wonder?"
John suddenly turned serious. "Delenn, I.... I know that things have been difficult, but it's all changing now. I can feel it. Everything will be better now, and.... We've both got the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I....
"I'd like to spend that time with you. I'd like to spend as much of my time as I can with you."
She smiled again. "John.... nothing would make me happier."
They came like thieves in the night. It had taken them a long time to find him, longer than they had anticipated, but ultimately he was one of theirs. And waking or sleeping, telepaths were never far from their creators.
It was a secret station, hidden in a dead area of space, a place where Alfred Bester could watch and wait and gather allies. He had pitifully few allies and far too many enemies, but he had accepted that state of affairs with necessary stoicism. He had burned far too many of his own bridges to cry about it now.
Ah, but victory.... if he had only won that desperate gambit, then the galaxy would be a very different place. He had failed, yes, but it was a failure such as few even dreamed of.
And he had been content to wait. The war was raging, Shadow against Vorlon, Chaos against Order, Darkness against Light. While it raged, he would be safe. When it finished, the victor would be free to look for the dark secrets of that bloody war.
He had prepared, but flight was the only real plan at the moment. He should have fled even deeper into the unknown, into hyperspace itself, to the Rim, to any number of dead worlds the Corps had discovered.
But he was waiting. Waiting for one last arrival, one person, without whom life meant nothing.
And then the Vorlons had found him, before she had.
Talia came across the dead space station Laton after months of searching, following half–forgotten memories, whispers across star systems and the dreams of dead men. She had heard a little of what was happening in the galaxy, and had been pleasantly surprised to learn of Dexter's successes on Proxima. But always her mind was on Bester.
And she was too late.
Laton was dead, destroyed, everyone on board with even a hint of telepathic ability taken. Talia remembered the screams of those trapped in the prisons of light and she shuddered. There could be nowhere for her to run now. Nowhere. That would be her fate now, an eternity of agony and slavery.
But even ancient races can make mistakes. Even Vorlons have sins, and the greatest of these is arrogance.
There was one person on that station still alive. Talia followed his plaintive psychic calls for help. He was wounded, badly, but he still lived. She spent weeks keeping him that way, missing the New Year, missing so many things. When he was fit enough, he told her what had happened.
He told her of the sudden attack from nowhere, of the sheer agony that had engulfed every telepath on the station, of the creatures that had attacked them all, indestructible, awesome, terrifying.
He told her how the others had been taken. All of them. Jason Ironheart, Harriman Grey, Matt Stoner, all the others. Even Alfred. He told her of Alfred's last instructions to him, a whisper in his mind that he could not forget.
And then he asked her what they were going to do.
Talia thought about this for a few seconds, and then looked up. "We're going to get them all back. We're going to bring that network crashing down around their heads and free everyone trapped in it, and then we're going to destroy every single one of them."
Ari Ben Zayn did not hesitate. "Good," he said simply.
It was a place where the damned went to die, where the lost gathered to start at shadows, where the friendless, the alone, the forgotten.... where all of them could be found.
It was full now. There were many lost after the wars, the deaths, the pointless, constant killing. Criminals, refugees, bounty hunters, the just plain unlucky.... they were all here.
There was an inn, of course. Oh, different races might call it different things, but it was a place where the friendless went to drink themselves into blissful oblivion. The owner was a huge, one–eyed Drazi whose only words were the price of each drink, and who heard nothing but the orders.