I look into her eyes, feeling the fear there. She has avoided me for many months, since Kozorr's.... betrayal. I do not blame her.
I tell her about what I have done, and she begins to cry. I want to hold her and comfort her, but I cannot. If I could feel love for any living being it would be for her, but I do not have that capacity. Another does, and it will be he who must share her life.
"This is my fault," she whispers, her head bowed. "He came to me.... The Primarch.... and he told me.... he tried.... to warn me...."
"You are not to blame, my lady. Her blood is on my hands."
"I said I would be your conscience! I said I would.... guard your soul. I failed you."
"No, I failed you, but that is past. I promise you, my lady.... I will make a better future, but I cannot do so alone. I need you at my side, my lady. I need you."
She nods. "Whatever you need me to do, I will do. My life is yours."
"Your life belongs to no one but yourself. I have.... been distracted recently. I have broken one of the simplest rules of warfare: never fight a war on more than one front. Sonovar, the Vorlons, the Enemy, I thought I could destroy them all.
"Perhaps I can, but I will do so one at a time, my lady. First, I must deal with Sonovar. It was I who created him, I who ravaged this world every bit as much as he did. I will end this, and re-unite our people."
Her eyes look at me with renewed hope. I smile to see it.
"And, my lady.... I will return Kozorr to you. That, I promise you."
I am many things, few of them complimentary, but I have never been an oath-breaker.
I have many skills, and one of them is mastery of war. I know what to do to deal with Sonovar, and I swear by those who once swore to me.... I will do all I can to finish this.
* * *
The old man poured two glasses of orange juice and passed one over to his guest, who took it gratefully. He sat down and began to sip at it. Yes, it was definitely better. Whatever new processes had been applied to it, the taste was definitely improved. He preferred the all-natural flavour of course, but that was sadly impossible these days.
"I'm sorry I'm late," said his guest, also sitting down. "There was.... pressing business."
"Yes, I heard. Has the declaration of war reached the Alliance yet?"
The guest made no sign of surprise at the information the old man possessed. He had got used to it by this time. "Not yet. There are lawyers framing the exact terms and so forth. Media reasons and legal sophistry, you know how it is."
"Oh, exactly. The timing is.... not bad, all told. I think we've more or less sucked Sector Three-o-one dry by now. Our little social crusaders have thrown up a few too many problems, and the underground telepath railroad running through there is going to fall apart very quickly, I fear. Ah well, we've done well enough out of the area.
"A pity though, I actually almost liked Mr. Trace. Such.... naked ambition, and complete lack of morals. On the other hand, all men need some moral centre, don't you think?" He took another sip of the orange juice. "We all have a purpose we work towards, the greater good of the race." The old man looked at his guest, who was still and unmoving. He sighed softly.
"Telepaths," the old man said again. "They're the key. Every war has.... some great strategic weapon, something that will turn the tide, and the side that gets that advantage is sure to win. It could be.... control of a trade route, an important river, perhaps a mine, or a piece of powerful technology.
"In this war it is telepaths, and whoever controls the most telepaths will win. It is that simple." He finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. Rising, he stretched, and began to pace up and down.
"Miss Winters will no doubt have escaped by now. Let her escape, let her go running to Mr. Bester, and we will follow. We will find him wherever he has holed up and...."
The door opened and the old man turned, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he saw who it was. "Mr. Morden, always a pleasure."
"Likewise," he said. "I heard you had company, so I thought I'd.... make myself available."
"Indeed. Well, Mr. Morden, I would like to introduce you to...."
The guest began to speak. "Call me Wi.... Oh, that might be a little confusing, mightn't it?"
"A fine name," the old man said with a soft smile. "Well, you know who he is, anyway. This is Mr. Morden, a longstanding and valued employee and.... agent of mine."
"A pleasure to meet you at last," Morden said, smiling.
"Likewise," said the guest. They shook hands.
* * *
It was victory of a sort, although as Captain David Corwin thought about the death toll and pondered the faces of those who greeted the victorious liberators of Beta Durani, he wondered whether this victory might not have been worth the winning.
He could see fear on their faces. Some cried out insults and hurled projectiles, but most merely watched, horrified, numb. Children were shaking and crying.
For so long humanity had been terrified of an invasion by all-powerful aliens they could not hope to defeat. For a few brief years they had thought they were free of that fear, only for the hope to be torn from their grasp and shattered.
That is the way of things. Hope is ephemeral. Fear is eternal.
The Captain was not here. He preferred to remain on the Dark Star flagship, ready for any attempted counterattack. Corwin had been given the task of securing the colony itself, although there was very little to do. Governor Young had tried to flee, only to be caught and arrested easily. Her fate was still undecided.
Corwin sat in her office, thinking about victory. Would this war ever be over? Would there ever be a time he could sit, and rest, and raise children in a world free from harm?
"It's just as well you left, Mary," he said idly. "You wouldn't like what's happening here."
He wished he'd kept the ring he'd bought for her. He had thrown it away.
Sighing, he reached for some of the papers on the desk. The Captain had asked him to look for any important points relating to military matters in Governor Young's office. She had been a favoured protegee of President Clark, and had been reckoned for swift promotion. She was likely to have been involved in a number of matters the Alliance should know about.
Her desk, however, was a mess. There were obvious signs that she had tried to grab as much as she could before she fled, and she had understandably not bothered about tidying up after herself. Routine maintenance reports were mixed with census records and private letters. Corwin buried himself in the work, anxious for anything to take his mind away from the dark thoughts that were plaguing him.
As he dug into a mound of reports, he found a newspaper and pulled it free. A copy of Proxima Today, dated a few days ago. He made to throw it on a rubbish pile, when he caught the headline, and started.
"Oh, my God," he whispered, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He swiftly activated his link. "Get me Captain Sheridan," he said in a hurry. "This is urgent."
He looked back down at the front page.
DELENN CAPTURED. WAR CRIMES TRIAL PREPARED.
* * *
Mr. Welles was a man of iron will, not given to showing his emotions lightly. The truth was that he was an intensely guarded and private person, unable to show his inner self for fear of rejection. Only his wife had ever glimpsed his true self, and with her death there was no one who could claim to know him properly at all.
As a result of this intense privacy many people interpreted him as cold and emotionless. This was not true, it was merely that he kept his emotions firmly under control for fear of revealing his true anger and grief, for fear of letting his true self-loathing manifest itself in horror at the things he had done over the years in the name of a good cause.
Displays of rage were very rare. When she heard the sound of crashing and breaking, his secretary initially thought he was being attacked, or had possibly suffered a heart attack. Rushing to see what was wrong, she was horror-struck at the sight of Welles tearing down pictures an
d books from the walls of his office and hurling them around, seemingly in a drunken rage. He turned to look at her, and she recoiled from the fury of his gaze. Whatever was wrong with him, she knew he was as sober as any man ever born. She retreated, in need of something to drink herself.
His rage sated, Welles sank slowly to the floor, bitter tears running down his face. This was crazy. He knew he should keep his emotions private, but he could not. Clark would find out, Sheridan would find out.
He didn't care.
He had done many horrible things in his life. He had tortured, he had lied and deceived, he had destroyed lives and reputations, he had broken hearts and minds.
But it was all in a good cause, all for the good of humanity, all for the greater good, so that was all right.
He had done many horrible things, but this....
He could not do it. No, he had to. Too many lives were.... He could not! He had to!
He stood up and swayed over to his desk. Papers had become strewn across it in his rage, but as he sat down it was easy enough to find the one he was looking for. Preliminary medical report on Satai Delenn.
Please let the words not be there. Please let them not be there. Let this be a dream, an illusion, a joke, anything!
They were there. Black against the page, unassuming, innocuous, innocent.
He leapt to his feet and smashed his chair against the wall. Then he slumped to the floor and began to sob.
Why had she not told him? For God's sake, why? If he had had some warning, then maybe.... maybe he could have done something. Now it was too late. A copy of this report had been sent to Clark at exactly the same time he had received it. Sheridan would find out not long after, and he would take great delight in watching Welles do what he would have to do. Ambassador Sheridan hated Delenn.
Welles was not sure if he hated her, or loved her.... or what? He simply knew that she did not deserve this.
He looked back at the report. The words were still there. They had not disappeared, or faded away, or changed in any way.
Five simple words. That was all, but they were enough to damn him, to damn whatever pitiful speck remained of his soul.
His eyes skipped over the first four and settled on the last. He half-cried, half-laughed. He wanted so much for that word to not be there, for there to be a mistake, something, anything.
Eight little letters, a word many reacted to with joy. A word he had longed to hear all these years ago from the mouth of the woman he loved more than life itself. A word he was hearing now, and one he could not bring himself to accept.
One little word.
Pregnant.
Part 4 : A Future, Born in Pain.
A choice was made freely, and when she made it Delenn thought she understood the price. She did not. But now she will. She was willing to sacrifice her own life, but the universe will demand more than that. Much more, indeed.
It hurts.
I had expected it to hurt. I had expected pain. But not this kind of pain.
My heart aches.
It hurts.
The physical pain is.... bearable. There is a burning, and a dull, soft ache. I was not sure what to expect of this. I do not think anyone knew what to expect of this. I am, after all, unique. I mean to say, I am unique in my biology. We are all unique in our souls. All life is unique.
All life is valued and is to be treasured, especially that of an innocent, of a child....
Of a baby.
I did not know. I tried to tell Welles that, but I do not think he wanted to listen. I did not know! How could I? I have never been.... pregnant before. It is very different among my.... former.... people. Lyta told me some things, but that was a long time ago.
Besides, I was on Z'ha'dum and time is.... different there.
I did not know!
Please.... someone.... believe me....
I can see his anger. He was furious, barely restraining it behind a mask of civility. I have seen the same thing in our warriors, just before they go into battle. It is the death rage.
"Why did you not tell me?!" he roared.
Tell you what?
"For God's sake, why didn't you tell me? I might have been able to do something. Maybe.... if I'd known.... But....
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Tell you what?
"You know. You must know. I'm going to.... I've done.... terrible things. Horrible things, but this....
"Never this.
"I've never done this!
"Why didn't you tell me?"
What? What is happening? What is wrong?
And then he told me, two simple words that shook me.
I did not know. Please, believe me. I did not know.
"You're pregnant."
This said, his anger did not abate. He continued, pacing up and down. I could not move, bound as I was My muscles were aching, but I did not feel it. All I could hear was his voice.
"You're pregnant.
"The medical tests showed that. That was one of the first things they discovered. They aren't finished, but they thought it best to wait for further orders. The doctors.... they know what is going to have to happen. They're practically champing at the bit. This is.... a unique opportunity, after all."
What will happen?
"Don't be so stupid!
"Can't you guess?"
Can I?
"You are going to be put on trial for war crimes. It will take.... time before....
"Before the trial can be prepared. Months. By that time.... it'll be obvious to everyone....
"Assuming your pregnancy is the same as a human one. It.... seems as if it is, so far....
"Ah! What does that matter? Listen, it'll take months before you go on trial, and it'll be obvious by then that you're pregnant. We can't exactly say we've been overfeeding you in here and you've put on weight!
"God, you might even have given birth by then.
"Pregnancy.... well, that happens to normal women. Human women. Normal people.
"It doesn't happen to war criminals, alien freaks of nature....
"I'm sorry.... I didn't.... You're not a freak.... You....
"Damn!
"Anyway. Pregnancy happens to normal people. If you go on the stand pregnant.... well.... you're not a war criminal or a.... whatever.... then. You're a normal person. You're just like over fifty percent of the human population then. You're not a murderer, you're a.... woman.
"The bleeding heart liberals are going to get hold of that and start bleating on about human rights and so on....
"It'll muddy things too much. This has got to be straightforward and simple. You're a murderer, a war criminal, an alien.... a monster.
"The.... the thing in your body is going to complicate that. It's going to complicate too many things. Fortunately.... as with any complicated situation, there's a simple solution."
What are you going to do?
"We're going to kill your baby, of course."
What?
"We're going to kill your baby. Well, the technical term is abortion, but I really don't care about semantics at the moment. We're going to murder your baby, and then pretend it never happened. You were never pregnant.... because how can you be pregnant?
"That's a thing that happens to normal people."
You can't.
"Do you think I have a choice?"
We all have a choice.
"Damn it! Listen to me! I've spent every single minute of every single day since you came to Earth doing horrible things for the good of humanity. Now maybe they weren't all necessary, but I wasn't the one to make that choice!
"I obey my President...."
Please.... you said....
You said you had a plan, allies.... you could do something.
"What? Rescue you? Do you honestly think that is an option?
"Do you think I haven't thought of that? Don't you think I'd rather do anything at all than go through with this?
"I'm not ready. We're not ready. I
f I'd known before.... if I'd had some warning, a chance to prepare, if we hadn't found this out so late, then maybe....
"Maybe....
"But I didn't, and there is no good at all worrying about maybes.
"Clark knows about this. He got a copy of the medical report the instant I did.
"He's told me in no uncertain terms. Your baby is going to die. You were never pregnant."
And if.... if anyone finds out?
"No one will believe it. No one wants to believe it. People are stupid, brainless, selfish morons!
"They only believe what they want to believe, and they want to believe that you are a monster, that I'm a hero.... that....
"They don't care what happens to you. I'm probably the only person on this whole planet who does.... and I can't do anything."
Help me.... please....
"I can't do anything....
"I'm sorry.
"I'm so sorry.
"I can't do anything."
Wait!
"What?"
My baby....
Is it.... a boy or a girl?
"No.
"No, don't ask yourself that question. It's a mass of cells. For God's sake, don't start thinking of it as a real person, or it'll break you."
A boy or a girl?
"No!"
Tell me!
"No!"
You're going to kill my baby! Tell me!
"....
"A boy.
"It's a boy.
"Your baby's a boy."
A boy.
A son.
My son.
John's son.
Our son.
Oh, Valen.... John!
I didn't know, John! I didn't know! I promise you, I didn't know! If I had known, I....
I what? Lorien told me. I chose this. I chose a life of sorrow and suffering and heartbreak, for a brighter future.
But I never chose this!
Our son!
Oh, John! I love you....
Please forgive me.
Please, understand!
They're going to kill my son.
I don't know the names of the people who are going to do this. Oh, there's Welles, and Clark, and.... John's father....
But who are the doctors? I don't know their names. I don't know who they are. Do they have people they love? Husbands, wives, children?
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