Before him, the air shimmered. He stepped back in silent wonder as a being materialised in front of him, an alien he had never seen before. It was half again as tall as he was, and covered with hard scales, from some of which burst long, wickedly-serrated spikes. It had one single eye, as large as his own fist, and from within its inky blackness there gleamed a fierce, feral intelligence. It had no arms as such, but six long tentacles emerged from its side. One of these wielded a weapon Kozorr could never have imagined.
Your soul will join us here and become part of Cathedral, as did his, in the millennia gone.
In silence the monster darted forward, one long tentacle lashing out with astonishing speed. Any doubts Kozorr might have has as to its tangibility ended when the tentacle wrapped around his legs and pulled him forward, sending him crashing to the ground. He kept a tight grip on his pike with his good hand.
His head jarred as he hit the ground, and the old scarring beneath his bone crest began to break open. He fought past the pain to remain conscious as the monster raised its weapon, which shifted form before his eyes to become a long spike. It thrust the spike down.
He brought his pike up and knocked the spike aside. Striking out, he broke the creature's grip on his legs and rolled aside. Scrambling to his feet, he darted away from the creature's advance.
Another tentacle lashed out, but this time he managed to jump over it. Ignoring the pain as he landed on his weak leg, he drew back his arm and threw his pike directly forward. It struck the creature squarely in the eye, and there was a vicious, psychic howl that sent Kozorr to his knees in agony.
When the pain had gone he looked up. The creature had gone, and his pike was lying on the floor. He crawled forward to reach it, but just as his hand touched it a booted foot came down, trapping the pike. He looked up and saw Sinoval standing there in his full glory.
"Why, Kozorr?" he asked simply.
"What happened to the monster?" he asked, rising to his feet. His head was aching.
"That was no monster," replied another voice, an ancient, civilised one. Kozorr turned to see the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus walking forward. "He was the last member of a race that died over seven hundred thousand years ago. They were an intelligent, artistic race, destroyed by natural disasters and plagues. We saved the last of them, and brought him here to add his essence to the Well of Souls."
"Why, Kozorr?" asked Sinoval again. "Why betray me?"
"I did it to save you," he replied simply. "You have been bewitched by these.... creatures."
"You swore to follow me forever."
"I want to follow you! My lord, I would follow you to the gates of oblivion and back.... but not these things. Cast them from your side, my lord, and all Minbari warriors will follow you for eternity."
"I made a bargain, and it is not for me to break it. I am sorry, Kozorr. More than you can know."
"Sorry! You have destroyed our people by your foolish bargains with these monsters! Can you not see that?"
"I am sorry, because I will have to explain this to Kats." Kozorr fell silent. "What should I tell her? I saw her when she thought you were dead. Her heart lay in pieces, her soul was drowning in a terrible blackness. She is not warrior as are we. Her caste were never prepared to accept the deaths of those they love.
"I think it would have been better for her to believe you dead, than for her to learn this."
"Damn you! Damn you all! Tell her what you wish. She will never love me."
"You are a fool, Kozorr. A stupid, arrogant, blind fool! She has loved you since the beginning, and you have not seen it." Sinoval kicked Kozorr's pike across the floor to him, and he picked it up. "Go from this place. Go to your new master and tell him....
"Tell him that if one more Minbari life ends at his hands, then I will hunt him down throughout the galaxy. I will destroy him and all who follow him, and his dream will be in ashes. We should be fighting the Enemy, not each other.
"See that he learns that."
"I will tell him."
"Oh, Kozorr.... think yourself fortunate. You could not have destroyed the Well of Souls. It is eternal and immortal. You would have died here, and your soul would have become just one of the countless thousands bound into the structure of Cathedral."
"Have you taken on the power of prophecy now, Primarch?" He spat out the title as if it were an insult.
"Yes," was the simple reply.
Kozorr left, and did not look back.
"You should have killed him," sighed the Soul Hunter.
"No. That is my way no longer. But as for you, my friend.... I think there are some questions you need to answer. This place.... will it talk to me?"
We welcome you, our Primarch.
Sinoval looked at his companion, and smiled.
Strangers were not entirely unknown in Sector 301, the area less than flatteringly dubbed the Pit. There were many inhabitants of Main Dome, Business Dome or the other, up-planet domes who came to the Pit for various reasons. Secret business deals, perhaps. Dark and unmentionable services that could not be obtained elsewhere. A need to find someone willing to kill or steal or kidnap for an appropriate price.
Or to find information. It was whispered that all knowledge was available in the Pit, for the right price, and if the seeker was willing to risk life and sanity looking for it.
Talia, nee Winters, formerly Stoner, and currently whichever surname suited her situation best, was certainly willing to risk life and sanity seeking the information she needed. There were a great many trails leading from IPX to the Pit, and she fully intended to follow them back out.
She was not worried by her surroundings. She had been in far worse, and she was still alive. This time she also had a bodyguard, which was unusual. Byron was less comfortable in the Pit. For one thing, he had to disguise his rank as a Psi Cop. Talia had long since got used to passing as a mundane, but then she was only a P5. Byron was a P12, and a powerful one at that. For him, badge, uniform and gloves were everything. There was simply nothing else.
"He's late," Byron snapped angrily. He was pacing up and down irritably, casting angry glances all around him. The street was quiet. This was a back alley in an area that made the rest of The Pit look normal and safe. The only place their contact would agree to meet them.
"He'll be here," she replied. She was much calmer than he was, her mind gently preparing itself. She ran through everything she knew about Mr. Chase, and she was convinced that he would show up. Her training in human psychology had been very thorough, especially mundane psychology. Chase was on the run; desperate, hunted and alone. He wouldn't pass up an offer of help.
"We shouldn't have to be waiting for mundanes. They should be waiting for us."
She grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him sharply towards her with a strength he clearly found surprising. "Listen to me," she hissed, her voice low. "That attitude will get us both killed, and a mundane can pull the trigger of a PPG just as well as we can. We do not let anyone know what we are. We meet him, find out what we need to know, and that will be that. Understand?"
"This will all change once we take over and kick all these worthless morons into the gutter where they belong."
"Look around you, Byron. This is the gutter. Anyway, that day hasn't come yet, and until it does, we're going to have to play by their rules." She released him and returned to her relaxed pose. "Don't forget that." She was almost, but not quite, leaning against the wall. The muck on there would quite ruin her jacket.
There was the sound of a throat being cleared not far away, and Talia turned to look. There he was, Chase. A little more dirty and ragged than the last time they had spoken, but it was unquestionably him. "Miss.... Shaughnessy?" he asked. She nodded. Bridget Shaughnessy was an old alias of hers, one she had used the last time she'd been on Proxima, some years ago now. There was in fact a full history and background for Bridget Shaughnessy in the Hall of Records, very kindly planted there by Al. In many ways she was more real than Talia Winters.