Kats, formerly Satai of the Grey Council, knew weakness when she saw it — and she had seen plenty of it.

There had been a time when she had been held prisoner, her body and soul abused, tormented, tortured. She had dared to lift her head and silently plead for aid from those around her, those who should have been horrified by this mockery of their most sacred place. Many had believed it was what she deserved. Two had recognised her plight, and had made plans accordingly. But two…. two knew that what was happening was wrong, but did nothing, because they were weak and afraid. Later they had tried to redeem themselves, but too late.

The man standing before her was not one of those two, but had he been in the place of Gysiner or Chardhay, he would have reacted in exactly the same fashion. He was weak.

"I bid you welcome to this place, in the service of Holy One Sinoval," said Administrator Callenn formally. He bowed. Holy One Sinoval. He did not even have the courage to call Sinoval by the title he had now adopted — Primarch.

Beside Kats, Kozorr bristled with anger, but she gently touched his arm. She was the diplomat, and although she despised Callenn as much as he did she did not let it mar her temper.

"In his name, it is a pleasure to be here," she replied. Callenn's face smiled, but his eyes showed that he lied. Tarolin 2 had sworn fealty to Sinoval out of fear and weakness, not courage or strength. Callenn had been afraid — of the Drakh, of the humans, of the raiders — and only Sinoval possessed the strength to guard him and his colony.

Still, Tarolin 2 was an old colony, and a powerful one. A reasonably safe place for many of the refugees fleeing from the devastation of Minbar. As long as the leaders knew to whom they owed fealty.

"We have prepared all the records you requested of us. My acolyte here, Ashan, will be happy to show them to you, and help you if you have any questions."

"I thank you for your foresight, Administrator. Primarch Sinoval also thanks you for your loyalty." Callenn visibly flinched at the sound of Sinoval's title.

"Well," he said, evidently searching for a suitable phrase. Kats could tell that Kozorr was enjoying Callenn's discomfort. "We have…. always been loyal to the Holy…. er, the…. Primarch here. Always loyal."

"Your loyalty is beyond question," she said, trying not to smile. "If you do not mind…. it has been a long journey and we are tired…."

"Of course, of course. Quarters have been arranged for you and your staff. Ashan will show you to them. Ashan!" The acolyte stepped forward and bowed briefly.

"This way, Satai," he said, gesturing to them to follow him.

At that very moment the entire top half of the Administration Building was blown apart. In the heavens, jump points began to open and Tak'cha ships flooded in.

The Minbari civil war had just begun.

It was almost dawn on Kazomi 7. Valen stood at peace, watching the suns rise. He closed his eyes and let their warmth caress him.

There had been another time, he knew, when he had enjoyed watching the rising of the sun. He had always been an early riser and had often been outside, watching, at dawn. Then he had gone into space, and he had grown accustomed to being in darkness. Now, he was content to see light again.

Are you ready? asked the booming voice in his mind. It felt as though a breeze of air was brushing through his skull, bearing just a trace of melody with it. There were hints of regret in the voice.

"Ready for what?" he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew. No, he wasn't ready. He wanted the uncertainty of the future, rather than the finality of the past. He didn't want to walk into the desert, knowing he would be following his own footsteps all the way.

It is almost time.

"No! I'm not ready. I'm not going back. I'm…." He stopped, and bowed his head. He would have to go back, he knew that. Destiny, the future, the past…. everything depended on him. He had never asked to be this fulcrum, but still, it had been thrust upon him.

"Yes. I'm ready."

No. But you will be. Know the past. Know the future. Be one with yourself. Then you will be ready.

He did not ask what that meant, as no explanation would have been forthcoming even if he had. Sighing, he felt the voice leave him, and he turned back to the sunsrise.

Know the past. How could he know the past? He could barely remember anything before stepping into the Temple of Varenni. Fragments, nothing more. He could remember more about people he had never met than about the people who had once shared his heart. Marrain, Nukenn, Zathras…. all these were more alive to him than the brother he barely recalled, or his parents, or…. Catherine….

"Catherine," he whispered. She more than anyone else he should be able to remember. He had tried pushing back the boundaries of his memories, but to little avail. Her name, her eyes, the faintest hint of her scent…. nothing else.

"Know the past," he said softly.

"Talking to yourself is meant to be one of the first signs of madness," said a voice from behind him. Slowly, unsure of what he was hearing, he straightened, and turned. "But then, if you want to become a Minbari and start acting like one of their Gods, then I guess you're way past that stage, hmm?"

It was her!

"Catherine?"

She smiled. "Hello, Jeffrey."

They called him the Starkiller, the last hope of humanity, the scourge of the Minbari, the greatest living captain. They had called him those things before he had betrayed them, before he had allied himself with the Minbari, and even dared fall in love with one of them. Little about John Sheridan was now common knowledge. People did not like to think about him, even after the recent victories. When they did speak of him they did so in hushed voices as if he were gone forever, in tones of reverence for the nobly dead.

Such an ironic prophecy was nearly true, for John Sheridan was dying. He did not talk about it, save to the one person who had become closer to him than anyone he had ever known. Indeed, only two others even knew of his fate.

He was not afraid of death, and he had already made his plans for dealing with the situation when it became necessary.

He had never been afraid of death, but he was afraid now. The instincts that had kept him alive for so long were screaming at him. Something was happening, or was going to happen, and he was not in control of it. That frightened him.

Not long ago he had received a message, short, but strange. It did not seem to make sense, and yet it was the kind of message he could not ignore.

Breathing in slowly, he rang the door chime, which was answered almost immediately with a "Yes?" The mere sound of that voice made him smile. He could have spent all day doing nothing but listen to it.

"It's me, Delenn. Can I come in?"

"Always," she replied. He knew she would be smiling and sure enough, when the door opened and he stepped inside, she was. She glided across the floor to meet him, her smile lighting up the room. "I thought you were running drills on the Parmenion tonight," she said. "Or did you finish early just to be with me?"

"No…. ah, not that I didn't want to…. it's just that…." He paused, catching his breath, and his thoughts. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. I was just going over the proposals put forward by the Drazi Government. They seem to think they are entitled to a larger share in the Alliance than we are giving them. It is nothing, but even if it were important, I would put it aside for the moment." She looked at him closely. "John…. is something wrong?"