In Valen’s Name…

The Minbari cruiser – it was the Varmain – turned about, directing all of its forward batteries at the huge, black form hovering above it. The Shadow ship seemed paralysed, unable to move as the focussed force of the cruiser’s weapons tore into it. It was struggling, writhing against hidden and unseen chains.

The chains snapped.

The Varmain tried to keep up its burst, but the Shadow vessel managed to pull away. It was clearly badly damaged. Sensing blood, the Varmain pushed forward.

Two more Shadow ships fell into its path, and their weapons tore the cruiser apart…

“In Valen’s Name…” breathed Hedronn, and Lennann and Rathenn. Sinoval even thought he had heard Kalain utter the name of their messiah.

He could not blame them. The Grey Council had always known that the day would come, as spoken in prophecies, when the Minbari went to war with the Ancient Enemy once again. They had always known, and they had tried to prepare, but nothing could prepare any of them for this… this carnage.

Except for Sinoval. He had seen this day in his dreams ever since he had been a child, and first brought to temple. He had seen this day, and many others, and he knew his destiny had been set.

“We are destroying some of them,” spoke up Satai Matokh. Another warrior, but one far more moderate in scope than Sinoval himself. Far weaker, as well. He had been wounded in Sheridan’s attack over Mars. He had never been quite the same since.

It was true. Sinoval had seen several of the Shadow ships paralysed, pinned in place by an unknown force, enabling the cruisers and the White Stars to tear them apart, but it took long, focussed bursts to do so. The Minbari didn’t have the time, and the Shadows were too fast.

“Not enough,” replied Hedronn. “We are losing. I think our path is set.”

Sinoval ignored him. Hedronn was old, and set in his ways, and a worker. What did he know? Sinoval was analysing the battle. Victory was still possible. Somehow, the Shadows were being attacked by other ships, including a Narn heavy cruiser, a Centauri warship and three human destroyers – the very people the Shadows were meant to be allied with. Sinoval did not like mysteries, but he had to admit that these five ships were holding back the Enemy.

Victory was always possible while there was breath to be drawn.

“Listen to him, Sinoval,” spoke a new voice, one absent from the Council for almost a whole cycle. One absent, and newly returned, with little change for its absence.

The two white-robed acolytes who had ushered Delenn into the Hall bowed and left, leaving her alone in the centre of the circle. Sinoval could see the other Satai looking at her, some with caution, some with disgust, and why should they not? Delenn’s appearance would disgust anybody.

Sinoval ignored her as well. His eyes were on the heavens, revealed in the images all around him.

“Sinoval! Listen to us, in Valen’s Name!”

Delenn had been captured recently, taken from the Earther destroyer on which she had been held – whether as prisoner or guest was up for interpretation. The Minbari boarding crew had ultimately been driven off, but not without two very useful trophies. Delenn was the first. The other…

…was John Sheridan. Starkiller.

He could wait. He was even now rotting in his cell, and there would be no miracle escape this time. Yes, Sinoval thought, he could wait, but Delenn… Let the Council see. Let the Council see what she had become.

He saw another White Star ship destroyed. He mouthed a prayer to Valen in memory of the crew.

“Sinoval!”

He finally turned to look at the one who had until so recently been a member of this assemblage. Then had come the Starkiller. Sinoval did not believe that she had aided his escape. Sinoval did not believe that she had willingly betrayed her people to the Enemy. Sinoval did not believe that she was acting out of anything other than what she felt was best for Minbar.

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.”