But his faith had been rewarded. The Saint–Germain had been a great success. Unlike the other ships in the fleet, it was a scouting and exploration vessel. It had carried out hidden sorties into Minbari space. It had found abandoned worlds and brought back vital technology.
But now it was needed here. All the ships were. DeClercq did not seem angry or worried by his recall to defend Proxima. He looked.... strangely at peace, with the world and with himself.
Ryan shifted his gaze to the figure next to him. Captain Bethany Tikopai was toying with the end of her long black braid, seemingly deep in thought. Ryan also thought he knew what motivated her. She had a daughter, a teenager now, born around the time that Earth was dying.
Ryan sometimes wished he had children. They were something to fight for. Simple, unequivocal. They were the new generation, the future. They had to be protected, and that was that.
The De'Molay had only recently come off the production lines, and Tikopai had only just finished assembling her crew. Both ship and crew were untested in full combat, but they should be fine. The De'Molay represented the height of Shadow technology, much more so than the Morningstar. It was said by the designers and technicians to be all but invincible.
Ryan was glad he was on the Morningstar.
The third person present was not sitting. Captain Jerry Barns was standing just behind his chair, arms folded high over his chest. He was a tall man, with an impassive, alert expression. Ryan could not read him at all, but his skill in battle was well known. His Dark Thunder had been operational for some months now, and had been tested in numerous skirmishes with raiders. Barns radiated a calm demeanour that offset the more.... swashbuckling tendencies of his first officer, Commander Ramirez. The two of them worked well together.
Ryan sat forward and laid his reports on the desk. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.
"Proxima needs us," he said simply. It was all that needed to be said.
The battle was over, leaving behind only three things.
First, there was the debris of the Narn ships, floating in space. Almost the entire fleet had been destroyed, blown out of the sky. The Centauri ships had taken some of course, but most of them had fallen to the Shadows, the strange aliens who appeared from nowhere and killed in a near–instant. One of the Shadow ships had been damaged, but nothing more. They had disappeared just as the final Narn ships fled.
Second, there was the prospect of the ground war still to come. That would be won, Lord–General Marrago knew, but only at great cost in life. The Narns had occupied the colony for months, and would still have substantial numbers of soldiers based there. The Centauri would be able to mount an uprising, and they had already won air control, but it would still take time before the colony was completely theirs again.
Third, there were the emotions of victory. Relief and euphoria of those who still lived, coupled with sadness and loss for those who did not. There was the pain of the injured, the hope of the survivors.
Their commander, victorious again, felt none of these things. He felt only fear. Fear for the future he had helped to create.
This was the second time he had called upon the Shadows for aid. A second favour he now owed them. This deal had been secret so far, although only just. Word would surely reach the Kha'Ri now, maybe even with proof. Once might be held to be coincidence.... twice....
That was for the future. For now, there was only the present. The reclamation of Tolonius 7.
His commscreen chimed, and he answered it. He was relieved to see the face of Captain Carn Mollari looking at him. "Captain," he said. "What is the state of the Valerius?" Carn's ship had taken heavy damage.
"Badly damaged, but it can be repaired, Lord–General. Engines are still functioning well. We have begun to ship our soldiers down to the surface as per your orders."
"Good, Captain." There was a pause. "Is there anything else?"
"Those ships, Lord–General.... the ones that came to our aid. I have seen those ships before. I thought I saw them when the Narns attacked our home, but now I am certain.
"Why would Shadow ships help us, Lord–General?" His voice carried a faint hint of accusation, as if he knew.
"It is not our place to question," he replied, wishing he could have phrased it better. He was a soldier, not a silvery–tongued courtier, and yet he wished he could come up with some excuse, some explanation. Anything. There were a million lies he could have crafted to disguise the truth of this deal, but he could not think of any.
All he could think of was the truth.
They offered to help me. They asked for nothing in return but a simple favour. That was all. Narn ships were going to attack our homeworld. Maybe we would win, and maybe they would, but either way, people would die. Good people, with families, with children.
This way, we would live, and only the Narns would die. They are our enemies. They attacked our home. They attacked and invaded our colonies.
I will bear the burden of this deal I have made. I, and no other.
Carn paused, and then nodded. "As you say, Lord–General. I will report again when word reaches me of the status on the ground."
"Do so." The screen went blank and Marrago sat back. He felt tired. He wanted to sit and rest, to feel the warmth of the sun on his face, and to sip brivare until the sun set.
Instead he rose to his feet and began to co–ordinate the ground offensive.
"Take it."
Kozorr said nothing, merely looking. Kats could see the emotions flashing through his eyes. She had thought about this moment for months, ever since she had learned of his betrayal, after his failed attempt to destroy the Well of Souls. She had thought about and planned for this moment, but now that it was here, she had no idea what to say.
"Take it," she said again, trying to maintain the dignity and conviction in her tone and bearing. "It is your weapon. Take it."
"No," he said at last. "NO! Why did he bring you here?"
"He did not. I came myself, knowing you would be here."
"You should not be here."
A light sparkled in one of her eyes, briefly, and then it was gone. "That is exactly what he said."
"Then we can agree on something. You should not be here, my.... Whatever Sinoval is planning, he should not have included you."
"I am capable of looking after myself," she said flatly. "Besides, I have my protectors. Sinoval did not send me here alone." She stepped back, and held the pike against her side. "If you do not want this, then I shall keep it."
"No, I.... I never meant to.... I...."
"Why? Was it always a lie? All of it? Did you mean even a single word of that oath you swore to him?"
"Yes! I did.... then. But.... look at me, my lady. I am a pathetic cripple who cannot even stand unaided. Sinoval should have left me to die in the Hall, and then I would at least be reborn as a warrior, not forced to live on as.... as this! Look at me!
"How can you love such a one as this?"
Kats trembled slightly. In her darkest thoughts she had suspected that she might be to blame for his treachery. After all, had she not been captured by Sonovar and his Tak'cha allies, Kozorr would never have been taken trying to rescue her, would never have offered his life for hers, and never turned.