Sinoval did believe that politics left no room for the truth, and that some had to be sacrificed if all were to be saved.
He said just one word to her. One, simple word. “Zha’valen.”
He could hear the gasp of shock and pain that came from her as he said that word. He would have heard it were he standing in the middle of an asteroid storm. He would never forget that sound.
One word. ‘Zha’valen.’
Outcast. A Shadow upon Valen. No Minbari could look at her, speak to her, even speak her name. It was as if she had never been born, had never existed, and that what stood before them was a mere shadow.
“Zha’valen.” That was Kalain. The word came more strongly from his mouth than it had from Sinoval’s. Kalain believed the stories of Delenn’s treachery. He believed because Sinoval had told him that they were true. Kalain had taken her place on the Council.
“Zha’valen.” That was Hedronn. Sinoval was not sure if Hedronn believed or not, but the exact details did not matter. Delenn’s very appearance – wearing that sickening half human face – that was enough to damn her in Hedronn’s eyes.
The word spread. “Zha’valen.” Even Rathenn and Lennann said it, although the latter had to look down as he did so.
Sinoval raised his head and looked directly into her eyes. He could see the light dying in them. He was not supposed to look at her, but he was Holy One, and he would break enough traditions sooner or later.
“Zha’valen,” he pronounced.
“No!” she cried, a word that was more scream than normal utterance. “No! Listen to me! Valen was a human! They are our kin out there. They are the other half of our soul. They…”
The acolytes returned at his gesture, and roughly led her away. Sinoval heard a noise that sounded very much like a sob.
Delenn now knew what had happened to her, as did the Council. The Nine were more Sinoval’s than ever now.
The Battle was not.
Sinoval was a warrior, and a leader. He had fought many foes, many times, and he had never been afraid. Not for himself. But for those he led… He remembered the name of every person who had died during his leadership. It was hard to remember, but it would be harder still to forget.
The battle was lost. He could see it. There could still be victory, but it would not be gained here. His mouth tasted of ashes.
He walked forward to the centre of the circle and raised his arms out wide. He closed his eyes.
“Pull back!” came the order. “This place is lost to us. Pull back!”
He could not bring himself to say, ‘Retreat’.
Kalain and Matokh began delivering precise instructions to the leaders of the fleet, detailing who would pull back, and who would hold. Sinoval could not bear to listen.
Victory was still possible. It was always possible while there was breath. But never had it seemed further away
Her breath was coming harder and harder. She was leaning on the side of the instrument panel. Her legs were sagging, her head drooped.
“Shadow vessel destroyed, sir,” said Major Krantz. Corwin did not shift his gaze from Alisa. “For the moment, things are clear here.”
“Good,” Corwin said. “Try and contact as many of our surviving Starfuries as you can. Reel them in to form a small screen around us. How are the hull repairs coming?”
“Temporary sealant over the damaged sector in place. Level nine is still entirely closed off however.”
Corwin nodded and then rushed forward. Alisa’s legs gave way completely and he arrived just in time to catch her. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. She looked as if she’d just run from Earth to Mars.
“Sir, about Captain Sheridan…”
Corwin looked up. “We can barely save ourselves, Major Krantz. If we can, then we will get the Captain back, but the last thing he would want us to do would be to risk this ship and its crew in a foolish rescue attempt.”
She was so young, he thought. What was Bester doing, drafting people this young into his war? Corwin had been older than this when he first stepped on to the Babylon, and he had still been considered largely a child.
What was Bester up to?
The Battle of the Second Line was a battle where nothing seemed to make sense. It had started out so simple. There’s the Minbari. There’s Proxima 3. Stop the one getting to the other. And then had come the Shadows, and Bester with his hidden agendas and his telepaths everywhere. And then had come the Minbari boarding party which had come in and left with both Satai Delenn and Captain Sheridan. And then Corwin had been in charge…
“What about the time when you disobeyed the orders of the Resistance Government in a foolish attempt to strike into Minbari space and rescue Captain Sheridan?” Krantz persisted.
Damn! Corwin thought. How did he find out about that?
The two people in this whole battle who actually seemed to know just what their commanding officer – Alfred Bester, Esq. – was up to – Captain Ari Ben Zayn and his constant companion Mr. Harriman Gray (P10) – were out of radio contact. Now that might be due to normal background radiation interference or whatever. But it could be that they’d come too close to one Shadow too many.
And that would leave a lot of unanswered questions.
“Have you got through to the Ozymandias yet?” he asked.
“No, sir,” said one of the technicians. Ah, what was his name? Guerra? Something like that. “Not a sound.”
“What about the Babylon?”
Now that was strange, if anything about this whole battle could not be considered strange. The Babylon had been Captain Sheridan’s ship. After his… somewhat forced defection from Proxima, Bester had returned it to the Resistance Government. The next time he saw it, Corwin had been expecting to be staring down its forward cannons. After all, the Resistance Government did consider him and the Captain to be Minbari-loving traitors.
And here they were, the Babylon actually fighting against the Shadows, who were supposed to be allies of the Resistance Government.
Corwin had long ago given up any hopes of understanding the universe. He’d be happy just understanding his own corner of it.
Alisa’s eyes fluttered and she looked up. “Commander,” she muttered. Her voice was that of a ninety-year-old, not the enthusiastic young woman he and the Captain had met earlier. “Com…”
“They’ve gone for the moment,” he said. “Rest.”
She tried to nod, but clearly didn’t have the energy even for that.
“Commander!” spoke up Guerra – if that was indeed his name. “The Minbari seem to be pulling back.”
“Think they’re retreating?”
“It’s possible.”
Corwin tapped his forefinger against his jaw slowly. Were the Minbari any match for the Shadows? Were they actually retreating?
Or was this all a ruse?
“Follow up on the Minbari,” he said. “But keep our distance, and if any of those bloody big Shadow ships show up, leg it quick.”
“I… can…” Alisa whispered.
“No,” Corwin snapped. “You can’t.”
He looked up.
And out there… somewhere… was the Captain. Corwin wondered if he’d managed to escape yet. It was only a matter of time…
His cell was dark, but then he had been expecting that. Captain Sheridan had been walking in darkness for years.
Where had it all begun? When had his first footstep on to the path of darkness been made? In his cell with Ivanova? On the bridge of the Babylon where he had shot and killed his wife? At his furious, maddened assault on the Minbari over Mars?
Or had this all been preordained? Had he been destined to walk in darkness from the moment of his birth?