"Then.... I will become a Soul Hunter?"
"You always have been. You simply have not realised it."
"I was.... the second Primarch Nominus et Corpus. The first was not of your race either. Who was he?"
"His soul globe died the day you came to us. His soul passed beyond, given rest at last. Among his own people he was a mighty warrior and a skilled diplomat, a poet even. His race was the one you now call.... Shadow."
"Have I done any better than he did? I broke your sacred law."
"All things change. Nothing can escape time. The Well of Souls has chosen you, in part because you can break laws in a noble aim.
"I must go now. Good fortune, Primarch. We will meet again I trust, a million years from now, when you too join Cathedral." The image of the Primarch shimmered, and he stepped forward, walking off the edge of the pinnacle. Sinoval rushed forward and looked over. There was no sign of him, only the darkness of space.
He sat down and closed his eyes. He could feel the Well of Souls, he could identify the billion voices within it, he could even name them all. This knowledge came to him, and something within the spirits of Cathedral smiled.
He opened his eyes, and began to clean Stormbringer.
Consciousness returned slowly. That was not a mercy, not with the voices returning with it.
Help us! Help us!
Some of them Talia thought she recognised. Friends, comrades, old lovers, whispers of forgotten pasts. Flashes of a life she had thought had passed her by.
Because of her disoriented state it took her a while to realise she was not secured. Twitching, she found the energy to raise her arm. It was not bound, nor the other one, nor her legs.
She had been laid on a small bed, a normal-looking hospital bed this time. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus her gaze on something, anything. It glared at her, a cold, sterile, barren sight. She looked around, and slowly, awkwardly, moving as if she were drunk, or as if her body were suddenly four times its age, she swung her legs over the bed and lowered herself awkwardly to the ground.
Her legs almost gave way. Leaning against the bed, she managed to hold herself steady. For the first time she noticed the foul taste in her mouth, and grimaced. She had been drugged. Some sort of tranquillising agent. A second booster injection probably, meant merely to keep her unconscious and prevent any earlier injections from losing their effect.
She forced a weak smile. Whoever these people were — IPX was the most likely candidate, but she had long ago learned never to make such blanket assumptions — they were not to know that she had been thoroughly inoculated against most drugs, poisons and tranquillisers. Not sleepers, unfortunately. Her system metabolised drugs much more quickly than normal.
That was not as pleasant as might be supposed.
Still, she knew she had an advantage now, and she had to get out of here. She might not have much time. Whatever was being done here, being done to her people, she would not let it be done to her. She knew something now. She — Help us! — had to get back to Al. She knew enough to know she could not do all this herself.
She swallowed the foul taste in her mouth and looked around. There was only one door in this room. It was a small room, pretty much dominated by the bed she had been lying on. There was some sort of equipment at the far corner, and as she hobbled towards it her clouded mind recognised it as a cryogenic storage case. It was empty, but it had been activated. It was 'warming up' now.
She felt a momentary flash of anger, and that only made the voices stronger. Her knees almost buckled, and it took a moment's concentration to force the voices back, swearing at her own stupidity. Strong emotions always made it more difficult for her to block the voices, well, the normal ones anyway. She had a feeling these would be even harder.
Beware! screamed one of them suddenly, louder than the others, and she sensed someone arriving. As fast as he could, she threw herself hard against the wall beside the door. It opened, and a figure stepped through. He was wearing a long white doctor's coat, and his head was bent over a datapad. She tried to skim his thoughts gently, but she could hear nothing over the cries of terror in her mind. This man had hurt her people. He had done all these things to them.
He raised his head and looked at the bed. He had a moment to register it was empty, before Talia lashed out with an elbow to the back of his neck. With a correctly-aimed blow, that should be enough to put most people down. Her aim was slightly out, but he fell anyway, dropping his datapad.
She was at his side, pressing her knee against his chest and her hands to his neck. Her movements were slower and more sluggish than she was comfortable with, but she would be fast enough to deal with him.
His eyes widened with pain at the pressure on his neck.
"Who are you?" she hissed at him. Her people were crying to her, some telling her to flee, others to kill him. She tried to shut them out enough to read his mind, but they were too loud for her.
"Dr. Vance Hendricks," he replied, wincing as she inadvertently increased the pressure on his neck. "How did you...?"
"What is happening here?"
"We.... we prep telepaths. We...." He coughed. Her vision was too blurred to notice the specks of blood at his mouth. "We.... we check their.... cryogenic tubes. We...." He coughed again. His mind was shielded somehow, she could sense that now, but still she persevered. "We.... add the machinery.... linking them.... to.... the.... the...."
She could feel the shields weakening. Her head was beginning to pound. "Linking them to the what?"
"The.... net.... work...." For the first time she noticed the blood trickling from his mouth. "The...." He coughed once more, and then he noticed the blood as well. "You've...." And then the strangest thing happened. He began to laugh. Blood-drenched spittle flew from his mouth as he continued his laughter.
Run! screamed one of the voices. Run!
They all fell silent, every voice in one instant. She felt a sudden terror emanating from them all. Hendricks blinked, and his eyes were suddenly glowing orbs of light. The same light began to pour from his mouth.
<Did you think we would let you know all our secrets?> he said, in a voice not his own. She could hear her people screaming.
<You are ours, you and all of your blood. We made you, and now we claim you once more.>
His body suddenly exploded, torn apart from within. Talia instinctively dropped backwards and covered her eyes with her arms. A great wind seemed to be blowing through his mind, and she could feel something of Hendricks passing.... beyond, into a great tunnel. There was a light at the end of it, and something there waiting for him.
He looked at her, and his eyes showed his terror. "Help me," he whispered, but she could do nothing.
He chose wrongly, said the voice that had come from his mouth. You all chose wrongly, and soon you will pay for your choice.
The voice faded, the wind died down, and Talia managed to struggle to her feet. She looked at the gobbets of flesh and meat and bone that had once been the body of Dr. Vance Hendricks, and fought the urge to vomit.
All the voices of her people were telling her to flee, to find Al and get help. They were her people, they were telepaths, and they deserved the protection of the Corps. The Corps was mother, the Corps was father, and her children needed her help.
Talia decided to heed that advice.
Of all the many battles in the four-year period that would later be described as the Shadow War, the second Battle of Beta Durani was one of the bloodiest. The first had been two years before, in 2259, when the forces of Proxima 3's Resistance Government, led by the Babylon and the Morningstar and assisted by the Drakh war fleet, had liberated the colony from its Minbari occupiers. It had been an easy victory for a humanity filled with righteous anger and opposed by an enemy weak, divided, leaderless and distracted.