The presence of Charles Dexter was not common knowledge at the time, and the existence of the Inquisitors only became public in 2262. Contrary to popular belief this did not happen on Centauri Prime, where their actions would attract much notoriety and revulsion, but on Minbar. The individual concerned was to become one of the most notorious and feared Inquisitors across the galaxy. He did not pursue the same objectives as his fellows, who were largely dedicated to tracking down those who had collaborated with the Shadows during the war. His purpose was different, and involved tracking down one single person.
The Inquisitor's name was Sebastian, and the Vorlons had given him the most difficult mission of his long career, but one they saw as of the utmost importance.
GOLDINGAY, D. G. (2293) The Unholy Inquisition. Chapter 8 of The Rise and Fall
of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the Beginning of the
Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer, G. Boshears, A. E.
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
* * *
"Where is he?"
Pain. No screams. She had long ago given up screams, of pain or otherwise.
There were no screams, but there was pain.
"Tell me where he is."
More pain. Light and fire blazed in her mind. Whispers fluttered through her hearing, brief images, feelings from long ago. The touch of his hand on hers. The warmth of his breath on her face. The sheer love in his eyes.
"I do not care how worthy or unworthy you are. I do not care on whatever pedestal you choose to place yourself. I do not care whether you believe yourself to be holy, a messiah, a prophet to bring glory to your name. I do not care what your name is. I do not care who you are. All these things will be attended to by another, in due time.
"For now, I have one mission and one mission alone. That is the only thing I do care about. I came here because you were his closest friend, the one he trusted most, the one he risked a great deal to save. Maybe he even loved you a little, if he is capable of such a thing.
"So, I ask you again.
"Where is Primarch Sinoval? Where has he gone? Where has he hidden himself? What does he plan? What allies does he have? Who are his agents?
"Where is he?"
Again the light burned. The old memories were at the back of her mind, the things that woke her in the middle of the night, trembling and shaking, unshed tears in her eyes.
Kalain was dead, had died in agony of a fatal virus almost two years ago. She had laid him to rest in her memories long ago, silently forgiving him for the tortures he had inflicted on her soul and her body.
But somewhere, at the back of her mind, he still lived, still strong and powerful and capable of hurting her so much. Still strong enough to emerge now, as she was tortured again.
"You dare to come here," Tirivail had spat at the human as he had presented himself to the Council. "You dare to insinuate these things!"
The human appeared to be formally dressed, but in a style none of them recognised. He spoke Minbari flawlessly, with an archaic, stylised accent.
"My name is Sebastian," he had said. "I am an emissary from the Vorlons. This you know. I am here on their behalf to seek any information you may have on the whereabouts of the one known as Sinoval the Accursed. I am here to question those of you who knew him best. Satai Kats, the former Satai Kozorr."
"Kozorr is dead," Tirivail had replied. Kats had said nothing. Tirivail had not adjusted well to Kozorr's death, her anger consuming her too much lately.
"Sinoval is gone," Takier had said. "He has left Minbari space and informed us that he will not return. We do not know where he has gone. He has no authority or power over any of Minbari blood now, and we have no power over him. Is that enough for you?"
"No. I am instructed to question those of you who knew him best. As former Satai Kozorr is dead, I will question Satai Kats."
"No, you will not," said Takier calmly. "She is one of us, and she is protected by the power of the Grey Council."
"I have the authority. The treaty by which you joined the Alliance confers the necessary powers on me, and on any delegated representative of the Vorlon High Command. Refuse me, and we will return in force."
"We will inform the Alliance Council of this," Takier warned.
"Feel free to do so."
"I will submit to your questioning," Kats said suddenly. "I know nothing of where Sinoval has gone, or of his plans."
"That is not enough. I must be sure."
"Then make yourself sure."
Then had followed pain. She had followed his directions and arranged a private room for the interrogation, a place he no doubt hoped would conceal the screams, but so far there had been no screams.
"Where is Sinoval the Accursed?"
"I do not know," she whispered. Her robe of mourning white was stained by her own blood. She did not remember having been cut, but the rod Sebastian wielded had inflicted enough pain without breaking the flesh.
"Where has he gone?"
"I do not know."
"We will find him, and when we do we will destroy him, and then we will destroy all those who helped to hide him."
"You cannot win," she breathed. "I cannot tell you what I do not know. All you can do is kill me, and that…. that I would welcome." Wait for me, Kozorr. I love you.
"No," he said simply. "I will not kill you. You will kill yourself. Suicide is a sin for the Minbari, is it not? A commandment from Valen himself. And you will not merely kill yourself, you will kill all the Minbari who hope that Sinoval the Accursed will come to them."
"I do not know where he is," she whispered.
"I will return," he said simply. "And when I do, I will bring you his head. Think about that. Remember that, as I plague your dreams."
"I will not dream about you," she whispered. "That is the only power you have over me…. to make me fear you. You can hurt me, but I have been hurt before. You can kill me, but that will be a release. All you can do is make me fear you…. but I do not, and I never will.
"When you find Sinoval, he will kill you."
"We will see," Sebastian said simply. "We will see." The echoes of his footsteps and the hollow tapping of his strange cane faded away into silence.
Kats lay still for a long time, her body aching, burning. She could not move, could hardly breathe. She could feel Kozorr's spirit with her, whispering always of how much he loved her, and of how aware he had been of her love for him. Tears slid down her face, mingling with the rivulets of her blood.
Finally, Tirivail arrived and carried her to a clean room, where she slept for many hours. Kozorr was in her dreams. Sebastian was not.
* * *
The first true test of the post — war Alliance was undoubtedly the difficulties with one of its founding members. Under Ambassador Vizhak, the Drazi had always been committed to the Alliance, but the burdens and expense of the war soon caused problems at home. Drazi pride and ferocity always placed them in the thick of any fighting, and as a result their losses had been horrendous. The prestige attracted by carrying the Blessed Delenn offset this a little, but a growing sense of dissatisfaction with the Alliance was spreading, bolstered by a — perhaps justified — belief that they were not being given a large enough role in the new order, and that their objections were being ignored.
An attempt had already been made to regain control of Kazomi 7, originally a Drazi world. This was ultimately averted by the presence and personal charisma of Delenn herself, but that was no more than a stop — gap solution.
The early months of 2262 saw the Drazi colonies gripped by rioting and political uproar. The anti — Alliance fervour reached fever pitch. The Drazi Government refused to pay their share of the vast sums of money required to build the Babylon 5 space station, seeing it both as a waste of money and a rejection of their world as the centre for the Alliance. The Government collapsed and a new one was eventually chosen in the traditional Drazi fashion of extreme and bloo
dy violence. This ritual began before the usual time, which should have been in late 2263, and this was a bad omen.
Ambassador Vizhak, one of the Alliance's most loyal supporters in the Drazi Government — not that the Alliance ever saw that part of him — was recalled to a minor position, and a replacement assigned, a figure much less welcome to the Alliance than Vizhak had been….
BARRINGER, S. (2293) Shadows on the Border: The Drazi Conflict. Chapter 7 of
The Rise and Fall of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and
the Beginning of the Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer,
G. Boshears, A. E. Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
* * *
It is ironic, thought Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, as he sat in the Council Hall of the United Alliance, listening with greater and greater unease to the figure speaking before them all. All of us, myself included, had thought only of the end of the war. We had envisaged a thousand years of peace stretching out before us.
None of us had imagined that the thousand years of peace would require so much work.
Juphar Trikdar was still speaking, his voice commanding and powerful. He spoke all the languages of the Alliance fluently, G'Kar knew that, and currently he was addressing them in the Common Trade language. He was a magnificent orator, and G'Kar, who had done more than his share of public speaking in his time, recognised the little details, the tiny clues that confirmed that.
He also recognised the sheer contempt in the Drazi's voice, something he took no pains to hide.
The long scar across Juphar's mouth twitched and danced as he spoke, a snake crawling across his face. It was new and jagged, a pale white flickering reminder that there could never be peace, not entirely.
Less than half a year after the Shadow War ended, violence had come to the worlds of the Alliance. Everyone on Kazomi 7 had heard about the riots and uproar on the Drazi worlds. It had seemed as if there would be fighting here as well, but the calming words of the Blessed Delenn — and a heavy military presence — had ended that threat.
They had of course offered aid to the beleaguered Drazi Government, only for Vizhak to refuse it. The riots were because of the Alliance, he pointed out. Involving Alliance troops would only make matters worse.
It had all ended soon enough, but not for the better. A new Government had been formed. New leaders had been chosen. A new Ambassador to the Alliance had been appointed. Vizhak had returned to his homeworld, to a new position. Taan Churok had remained, always having served the Alliance rather than his own people.
They had sent Juphar. G'Kar had made a point of learning as much about him as possible. He had not liked what he had heard. Juphar was renowned as a skilled orator and a tough negotiator. He was also firmly anti — Alliance. He had been scarred during the rioting while delivering a powerful speech in favour of leaving the Alliance.
"Drazi will not pay these sums," he said, drawing his speech to a conclusion. "Drazi will retain control of Drazi fleet. Drazi fleet will go where they wish. Drazi merchants will go where they wish.
"Drazi will not permit Alliance soldiers on Drazi worlds. We fought the Shadows longer and harder than any others. Is an insult to say there are Shadow agents hiding on Drazi worlds. An insult, and we will not accept it!"
G'Kar sighed. He could see why the Drazi were upset about that. It was a requirement of the Alliance treaties that the Rangers and the Dark Star fleet should have free access everywhere to seek out Shadow agents, remaining vassal races or leftover pieces of technology. Few races liked it, but it was a necessity. G'Kar gave a quick glance at Ambassador Durano, who was listening intently. The Centauri had to put up with more than most in that area, and for a moment his heart went out to Londo.
But, much as he disliked it, he knew why it was necessary. If the freedom of movement of the Rangers was restricted in Drazi space then other races would soon be clamouring for similar concessions, and then the Shadow agents would remain hidden, and G'Quan alone knew what they would be capable of.
"We are not insulting you in this," Delenn said, rising to her feet. She had listened to the whole speech with an increasingly despairing expression. She knows the truth, G'Kar thought. The Drazi are lost to us, and there is nothing any of us can do about it.
"We are certainly not implying there are Shadow agents being sheltered by the Drazi people, but they could be hiding anywhere. We must have free access to find them wherever they might be."
"You cannot come to Drazi worlds," Juphar said defiantly.
"That is not an option," said Sheridan, also standing. General John Sheridan, the Shadowkiller. "We must have free access to all worlds, anywhere in the galaxy."
"Not Drazi worlds."
"Please," Delenn said. "We do not mean to insult you in any way. But we must…."
"Alliance do insult us. If Alliance continue to insult us, we will not be part of Alliance. We will not pay for Babylon Five. We will not provide ships or soldiers to die in your wars with no honour. We will not obey restrictions on where we go.
"We will not let Alliance soldiers on to our worlds."
G'Kar glanced across the table. Na'Toth and G'Kael were listening intently. Neither looked pleased, but the Kha'Ri would learn of these events from one of them. The Kha'Ri was growing more and more concerned about the direction in which the Alliance was going.
If the Drazi left and did not return, would the Narns be far behind?
* * *
The image of the alien was crystal clear. Most of those who saw it had never seen such a creature before, but for those who did the sight would never be forgotten.
It seemed to shimmer as it walked, the shadows forming around it, becoming one with it. The instrument that had recorded its passage was specially designed for the purpose. Most recording devices would not even have detected it.
It was short, and walked with a peculiar hobbling gait. G'Kar knew that the creature was capable of astonishing speed and agility, moving its disjointed body in ways no Narn could ever emulate — or human, Minbari or Drazi for that matter.
Black rags were wound tightly around its small frame, completely covering any trace of skin or fur or whatever lay beneath them. No living being had ever seen the face of one of these things. They showed their true appearance only to the dead. Hence the only name the creatures had: the Faceless.
The streets it walked through were narrow and cramped and filled with people, mostly Drazi. The recording showed them bumping into each other, starting and swearing, but the Faceless moved among them with no more substance than a….
A shadow.
There was no doubt about where the Faceless was. Kazomi 7 had been substantially rebuilt since the Drakh invasion and the rise of the Alliance, but there were still some areas that were as they had been when the world was a Drazi colony. Everyone knew there was only one race that built cities with such cramped streets. This was Zhabar, the Drazi homeworld.
The creature did not seem to know it was being followed. G'Kar found that difficult to believe, based on what he knew of them. No, far more likely it was letting the Ranger follow it. Far more likely that it knew what was about to happen.
It slid down an alley and came to a door. The moment it reached it the door opened. For that single instant, G'Kar saw the door as a mouth grinning wide. A Drazi stood there, dressed in a simple smock. He welcomed the Faceless inside, and then the recording stopped.
G'Kar stood back and looked at the Council before him. None of them was speaking. Lethke, Delenn, Sheridan, Durano, G'Kael, Kalika, all the other Ambassadors and diplomats and aides. None of them said a word.
It fell to G'Kar to break the silence. "That recording was found by one of my Rangers on the Drazi homeworld. It was recorded by another Ranger who disappeared some months ago, not long after the recording was made."
"Do you know what that creature was?" Sheridan asked carefully.
G'Kar nodded. "We do not know its true name, but G'Quan called i
t a Faceless. The Enemy often used them as assassins. They are all but invisible in darkened areas, they are very agile, and they can kill with their bare hands. The information in the Great Machine — " and here he paused, thinking again of the rush of information and knowledge and power the Machine had given him, " — the information there seemed to indicate that they were not a specific race, but an order, composed of the most skilled agents of the Enemy. They were altered in some way, before becoming the Faceless."
Lethke went pale. "Some of these Faceless walked our worlds during the war. Many of our people died."
G'Kar did not know what to say. The nocturnal Brakiri provided a perfect target for the Faceless.
Sheridan rose and turned slowly to look at Taan Churok and Juphar Trikdar. Neither of them had said anything throughout the meeting. "Who was the Drazi in the doorway?"
"No one," Juphar snapped. "That is lies. You seek to frame us." It had been three weeks since Juphar had arrived, and relations had grown considerably worse. More than one Ranger had been ejected from a Drazi world. Blockades had been set up around jump gates and several Drazi merchant ships had been turned back, or boarded and searched. Juphar had been furious after each incident. Taan had been as silent as ever.
But he was still capable of speech from time to time. "Dr. Literana Varda," he said. "Liaison to new Government on matters of biotech and chemical warfare. Very powerful man."
"Lies," Juphar hissed, turning on Taan. "Traitor."
"No traitor," Taan snapped back. "Varda ambitious. Enemies…. go missing. More than once."
Sheridan breathed out. "Thank you. We will have a warrant drawn up for this Dr. Varda, under the Kazomi Accord. He will be brought here for investigation and trial, concerning his dealings with Shadow agents."
"No," Juphar said. "Will not happen."
"It will," Sheridan said. "You will not try to stop us."
A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Prologue : The Missing Year addm-5 Page 2