That was far rarer.
Marcus was… just waiting, trying to look at anything other than the woman before him. She was waiting as well. Waiting for what, he didn’t know. She’d returned from her meeting with General Hague in a dark mood. She’d paced up and down angrily, drunk a little more of that Narn liquor, and simply waited, arguing with herself, although she said nothing. Marcus was no stranger to self-conflict, and he recognised the signs in her. He wasn’t sure what she was debating, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he wanted to know was where Lyta was.
Marcus Cole had done many things in his life that he was ashamed of. His drunken submission after Earth had fallen and his home colony – Vega 7 – had been taken over by the Narns. His survival when almost everyone else had been killed. His insistence on serving as Sheridan’s bodyguard – just a means to escape his own problems. The way he had betrayed Lyta – and Sheridan – by succumbing to Ivanova’s advances.
Of nothing he had done was he more ashamed than this. He had been entrusted with a task – an important task – and he had failed. Ivanova had tricked him so easily, she had locked him up and been free to go about her own business. Marcus wasn’t sure exactly what she had done, but he could see the distance in her eyes when she returned, and he knew that it was something dreadful.
He still didn’t know what had happened to Captain Sheridan, or Satai Delenn, or Commander Corwin… or Lyta. He had been here for almost two weeks. Ivanova had been in and out during that time, but he knew he could not escape when she was gone. He just beat at the walls and screamed out for Lyta, but there was nothing. Nothing and no one. And when she was here…
Ivanova suddenly raised her head and looked up. “And so it begins,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and activated her link. Marcus did not hear her message, but he did pick up the name ’Welles’.
And then Ivanova had sat back, still looking at the ceiling. “It’s beginning,” she told him. “The Minbari are here, and my friends are here to fight them. We’ll win, of course. They can’t hold us off. We’re too strong.” Ivanova laughed, but it sounded false. “We’ll win, and after this, we’ll take the war to them for a change.
“We’re aren’t going to have to be afraid any more, Marcus. And neither are you.”
He was about to ask what she meant, when the door opened. In walked a security guard – it was Boggs – and he was dragging someone…
“Lyta!” Marcus exclaimed. He leapt up and moved forward, but, moving with a speed he found surprising, Ivanova extended her Minbari pike and formed a barrier with it. Boggs bowed to Ivanova and left.
Marcus looked down at the woman he had grown to care for. Lyta had done most of the chasing in their relationship, and he had been overcautious, certainly, but it was only recently that he was beginning to realise how much she meant to him.
She was bruised and battered. Her clothing was partially torn, and her face was covered with bruises and scratches. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, and her right eye was badly swollen. The left looked vague and unfocussed.
“Look at her,” Ivanova was saying. “The uniform, the gloves, the badge… all designed to make her stand out, to make her different, to make her special. But without her powers, she’s not special at all. She’s just like each of us, except that she isn’t, because she doesn’t have anything else. No family, no lover, no… no reason to get up in the morning.
“Psi Corps won’t let any of their members have those things. They won’t let their members be happy. They won’t let any telepath be happy, because it reminds them of everything they’ve taken away from themselves.”
Marcus was still looking at Lyta. She had raised her head to look at him. Her expression shot to his very heart.
“How you feel now,” Ivanova said to Lyta. “That’s how my mother felt every day of her life since they found her. That’s… that’s how I’d feel if you found me. I’ve been afraid of you… of this badge, since I was a child.” She bent down over Lyta, relaxing her hold on the pike across Marcus’ chest. He tried to step forward, but she pushed him back. She roughly pulled the badge from Lyta’s dress and held it up.
“But it’s just a bit of plastic. I’ve been afraid of this… afraid of you all this time for nothing. This is just plastic, and you… you’re just as weak as the rest of us, without your powers, without what makes you special.
“I needn’t have been afraid, and now I’m not.
“Look at her, Marcus. She’s been lying to you all along. She’s been using her power on you all along. She’s been raping you every time you’re together and it’s all the worse because you never knew about it, and she keeps on pretending that she loves you.
“Psi Corps doesn’t know the meaning of the word love, Marcus. She’s just using you. Using you to try and gain a part of her life that she can never have.”
Marcus started as something shimmered beside him. He turned, and gasped…
(A black scream in his mind the earth broke as it rose it screamed in his mind it was big and black and came from Hell it screamed in his mind screamed in his mind…)
Marcus knew he was looking at a Shadow. Two Shadows. He stumbled and staggered backwards. He fell.
“She can’t love you, Marcus,” Ivanova said. “Only I can.”
She gripped her pike tighter and looked down at Lyta. Lyta was trying to say something, but she couldn’t get the words out.
Marcus tried to move forward, but the Shadow was there, blocking his way.
Ivanova raised her pike…
“Shai Alyt, we’re intercepting a message.” Tryfan looked across at the Ranger who had said this. The very title of Shai Alyt addressed to him gave him a moment’s pride and exultation, but he soon focussed his attention back to the matter at hand. Holy One Sinoval and Satai Kalain had entrusted him with this position. He would not prove them wrong.
“It’s from… it’s from her. Zha’valen.”
Tryfan started. Delenn, formerly of the family of Mir, formerly of the Grey Council, formerly chosen of Dukhat, formerly a Minbari. Now, she was Zha’valen, traitress to her race and her people, and willing agent of the Enemy. The Grey Council had pronounced her Zha’valen – literally, a Shadow on Valen – a few weeks before. Now, no Minbari could speak to her, look at her, or even speak her name. She was outcast.
By the laws of his people, Tryfan should ignore the message, deny it as he should deny her very existence, but… this was war, and practicalities were more important than principles. If this was genuine…
But even Tryfan could only go so far.
“Send the message to the Grey Council, to Satai Kalain if you can. Let them decide what to do about it.”
“Should we not listen to it first? It might be important, Shai Alyt.”
“She is Zha’valen,” Tryfan countered. “Her words are as dust, her heart is as stone. Nothing she says matters to us.” Ritualistic words that could not fail to hide Tryfan’s deep anger and disappointment. He had known Delenn – known her well. To see her as traitress and outcast… it hurt.
But duty came first. Duty and honour.
Tryfan was unsure of whether it was instinct or pure luck that caused him to look up at that moment, but he did look up, and he was the first to see, on the display before him, the sight of the big, black ships shimmering into existence. He breathed in harshly (hearing the screams in his mind) and whispered a silent prayer to Valen to guide him.
The Shadows were here.
General Laurel Takashima was certainly no stranger to battle. No one promoted in Earthforce in the aftermath of the fall of Earth could be. She had seen Minbari ships flying through the heavens above Mars, and she had seen Captain Sheridan’s bloody charge into their armada on this very ship. Takashima did not like Captain Sheridan, but she had to acknowledge his skill. The Babylon was his ship, not hers.