Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке - Гэрет Уильямс

It was his presence here which had done so much to bring Minbari attention to the United Alliance, even led as it was by an outcast such as Delenn.

"Pretty words," grunted Taan Churok. He sounded moved. Anyone would be, even a Drazi. He shook his head, as if attempting to rid himself of an annoying insect buzzing around him.

"Words from old," Delenn agreed softly. She could not remember the bulk of his speech — she doubted anyone could; it was the words, not the meaning which mattered — but she had recognised faint traces. This line, from the 'Times to Come' speech on Mount H'leya — that image from the triumphant arrival at Z'ha'dum — a metaphor first spoken at the first assembly of the Grey Council. Jeffrey Sinclair possessed all the memories of the Valen he would become, a thousand years before. They had been implanted into him by the Vorlons, erasing in the process almost everything that had made him Jeffrey Sinclair.

She looked at him, basking in the adulation of his people, and reflecting that adulation back to them. He was so beautiful….

Her personal communicator beeped and she picked it up, somewhat awkwardly, from her side. A Centauri instrument, bought and modified by the Brakiri. Such a device felt…. alien to her, but she accepted it.

It was Lethke, former head of the Brakiri Trading Guild here on Kazomi 7, and now Minister for the Economy.

"Delenn," he said, his flawless politeness the result of both years of diplomatic experience and a genuine liking for Delenn, "we have received the documentation from Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar of which you wished to be kept informed. It contains the details of the Babylon Four station he has built, as well as certain…. confidential matters to be shown only to you."

She sighed softly. "Of course, Lethke. Thank you for informing me. I will be with you in a moment." A tremor passed through her, a memory of the past, and the not-too-distant future.

She looked at Taan Churok, and then at Valen, and sighed softly as she left the presence of the most beautiful spirit she had ever known, to dwell on what his — and her — future might be.

Catherine was in a strange mood for the rest of the day, not altogether surprisingly. Her ambiguous meeting had raised more questions than it had answered concerning the G'Kar mystery, and the fact that she had been ordered to forget all about this only puzzled her the more. The order to prepare the report which had led to her discovery of the G'Kar Files had come from Zento's own office.

An hour or so after her return from the 'meeting' two men she did not recognise but with appropriate IDs had taken all her copies of her unfinished report. She had spent the rest of the day in a fugue, working idly at various sundry items she had neglected during the investigation of the G'Kar problem.

For the first time in months she had left work on time. She made her way home, her mind still engulfed by the events of the day. Nothing about this made any sense. Nothing.

The hovertransports were busier than she remembered, and being surrounded by the chatter and bustle only deepened her dark mood. Far too many of the conversations were about war. With the Minbari crushed, where now? Some people seemed to think the Narns, or perhaps the Centauri. Maybe even a few of the Non-Aligned Worlds. The economy was on an upswing at last and a continuing war was thought to be the means to keep it that way.

She arrived home almost without realising it, her feet taking her to the door of her apartment on autopilot. As she stepped inside, she heard the sound of the news reports from the vidscreen and realised Dan must be home.

Sure enough he was, lounging in front of the vidscreen. Catherine caught a snatch of the report — "…. for a quick summary of the news today. Rumours from the Resistance Government suggest that President Clark may be considering relaxing some of the Wartime Emergency Measures which have been in force for the past thirteen years. Foremost among the initiatives are believed to be reductions in rationing, and the repeal of certain interstellar travel restrictions.

"Also, the new Warlock class vessel the Marten has been officially launched today. Captain Walker Smith commented only — 'It's a fine ship, with a fine crew. We're going to do well.'

"And finally, the memorial service for former President Marie Crane was held today. She was President of the Resistance Government for eight years, retiring due to ill-health last January. She never recovered from the multiple ailments attributed to the stress of her time in office. President Clark praised her sacrifice and promised to continue in her memory…."

Dan suddenly noticed Catherine's arrival and switched off the screen. "Hi," he said, looking puzzled. "You're early. Cracked that big mystery you were on about?"

Catherine sighed. "That's…. one way to put it." She sank down on to the chair next to him and let him wrap his arm around her. "It's been a…. weird day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Ah…. maybe when I've got it sorted out in my head. How's your research going?"

He grimaced. Dan Randall had once been an investigative journalist. Quite a famous one, too. But after a particularly…. unpleasant report had aired about the way human miners were being treated on the Narn-run colony of Vega 7, the furious Kha'Ri had been on the verge of having him executed. In an effort to stave off an incident, ISN had fired him. He now worked as a freelance researcher for various companies, currently compiling statistics for the Department of Public Information.

"Ah, you caught me," he confessed, a guilty smile on his face. "I've been lounging around watching the sports all day." Catherine sighed, and shook her head. The first football tournament since the beginning of the war was being aired, and some of the teams were discovering certain…. intriguing possibilities with the Proxima gravity.

"Comes of not having you around to bully me into working."

"I'll bet," she smiled.

"How's about I make you some re-caff and you can persuade me to get some work done."

"That would be perfect."

As he went to the kitchen, Catherine found her mind coming back again to the mystery surrounding her. She had not spoken to Dan about it before — and her gentle questions by way of research had been carefully chosen to elicit as few suspicions as possible. Of course Dan was always suspicious, but Catherine had tried to make her questions seem routine. Sharing classified IPX information with unauthorised personnel would lead to major trouble, but it was getting to the stage where her curiosity was outweighing her good sense.

Besides, it wasn't IPX business any longer. Just…. personal interest. Right?

"Dan," she called into the kitchen. "What do you know about a Narn called G'Kar?"

"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar?" he called back. Catherine, faintly recognising the term for a Narn preacher, shouted back in the affirmative. "Not as much as I'd like," came the reply. "Once a big fellow in the Kha'Ri. Disappeared on some sort of personal mission some years ago. Still got his fingers in a number of pies, though. Why the interest?"

"Would he have any connection with…. with IPX, at all?"

"Certainly possible. If any Narn would have, it'd be him. He's not quite as xenophobic as some of his fellows. He's got an aide of some sort who comes here from time to time. I'll remember his name in a minute."

"That's a fair bit."

"Well, you know me. Even when I'm not working, the old instincts linger. It's surprising how much you overhear even when you're not trying."

He came back to the couch, carrying two mugs of the nearest thing to coffee available in the post-fall days. Catherine took her mug with a smile and, kicking off her shoes, swung her legs up onto the sofa.

"Why the interest?" Dan asked again, sitting down beside her.

"He's…. involved in IPX somehow. I'm certain of it. At a fairly high level too." She sipped the coffee. It didn't taste of anything at all. "For what reason I can only guess."

"I'll have a poke around tomorrow, if you like. Rustle up a few old contacts. They might know something a bit more recent…. like if this aide of his is in town. Ah…. what was his name? The door chimed and Dan looked up. "I'll get it," he said, rising to his feet and putting his coffee on the table. "Probably the other woman who was supposed to come round when you were out." He grinned, and Catherine smiled back, albeit somewhat weakly.

Her senses were a bit dulled at the moment, but she still heard the buzz of a PPG charging just as Dan opened the door. Acting on instinct she spun round, dropping her coffee, droplets scattering black rain everywhere. She shouted a warning, but it was too late.

Far too late.

The thump of a body hitting the floor coincided with the sound of her cup shattering.

The speeches were over and business had returned to something resembling normality at Kazomi 7's spaceport. Delenn had gone to meet with Lethke. Taan Churok and Vejar remained, working as hard as they ever did, and Valen…. he had left too.

For a while he had stood there, the love and adoration of his people enveloping him, and he reflecting it back towards them. The wave of ill-feeling resulting from the fate of the Keeper's host had evaporated, and conversation was now lively — if quiet — and filled with wonder.

Valen drifted through the streets and alleys of Kazomi 7, his mind elevated on a higher plane. Few who saw him could comprehend the thoughts raging through his mind. Only one person he had met since his…. change had been able to identify with him and she…. was away. Besides, she had been changed almost as much as he had.

He remembered so much, some that had happened, some that had not. He could see clearly the slopes of Mount H'leya as he addressed the throng of his own people and others. He could hear the words of his speech as easily as if they were being spoken now beside him.

And yet he could not remember where he had been born, or the name of the first woman he had kissed, or even the name of his brother.

Many times he had pondered on the strangeness of this, and he had come up with many answers. Some satisfied him. Most did not.

But then, there had been very few people he could ever remember who had any sense of…. of centre. Any point of focus around which their lives were based. Marrain — a name and a face he knew but who had been dead for centuries — he had been thus focussed. For a while at least. His whole life had been based around one thing, and when that base was shattered he had fallen, and never recovered.

"I should have led!" the familiar voice cried out, one arm pointing across the room. "I was worthy, more worthy than you! I challenge you, as our people have always settled our differences. Here…. in the heart of the Wheel."

He shook his head sadly. He had known almost instantly that Marrain had not wanted to kill him. Oh no, he had wanted to die there. Some small element of what he had been had remained. As it happened, Marrain had not died then. Unable to bear the pain of the Starfire Wheel he had fallen free, crawling into the shadows at the corner of the temple, to watch.

He remembered…. raising his arms, letting the brutal radiation flow over him, into him. He was not afraid. He knew what to do. He knew….

He sighed, and pulled his thoughts back to the present. What had happened to Marrain in the end? He hoped he had found the peace he had searched for, but somehow he doubted it.

Few indeed with that point of focus. But one who was still alive….

He had spoken to Sinoval…. when…. a few days ago? Delenn had been discussing the problems with the Keepers and the refugees. She had then been called away, and Valen, out of curiosity, had stepped forward and continued the conversation.

Sinoval's dark eyes had narrowed, but he had been willing to speak. He still did not like the one who purported to be Valen, although primarily because of Vorlon involvement in the affair. "Good day," Sinoval had said. "How are you?" His words had been polite but hard. There was little warmth in anything he said.

"Well." Speaking with Sinoval was so like speaking to Marrain. He would look for the deeper meaning behind each word and rarely hesitated to make judgements based on what he saw there. "Delenn has spoken to you of the…." He paused. There had been a different name for the things in his day…. what had Delenn called them? "The Keepers…."

"Yes. We have found some here. Fortunately we have our own methods of detecting and destroying them. I would offer their help to you, but I fear their aid would come at a price higher than you would wish to pay."

The Soul Hunters, of course. Sinoval had made some sort of bargain with them. Valen wondered idly if some report of the Enaid Accord had survived. Unlikely, of course, since it had been very secret even then. Still, the alliance with the Soul Hunters had been very beneficial for a while — but a lot can happen in a thousand years, and no alliance lasts forever. Sinoval must have offered more than Valen had been able to offer.

"How do you think the…. Keepers came to be attached to our people?"

"The Enemy, the humans…. there are a number of possibilities. Rest assured those responsible will not survive much longer. A good evening and a good rest." The screen had faded and Valen sat back, puzzled.

He was still at a loss to understand Sinoval's antipathy towards him. Perhaps it was the Vorlons, although there seemed to be more to it than that. It might well be little more than the reasons which had turned Marrain away from the light. Marrain had been so focussed and sure, and the source of that focus was that he was the greatest warrior of his age…. perhaps ever. He had been strong, fast, skilled, wise. And then along had come one who was stronger, faster, more skilled, wiser.

Valen looked up and sighed. He had been wandering for longer than he had thought. It was time to return to Delenn. There was…. work ahead.

She was not quite sure how she had escaped from the sights of the gunmen. She had hidden, but even a cursory search would have revealed her hiding place within seconds. The assailants did not seem interested in her however. From her position beside the door to the kitchen she could hear at least two people moving around. Their movements were precise and definite, as if they knew exactly what they were looking for. Within minutes they were gone. Catherine finally allowed herself to breathe again after she heard the door close. Slowly, she crept out of the kitchen and looked around. Little seemed disturbed. Nothing of any value seemed to have been taken. Just….

Her personal computer. She could see almost immediately that it had been touched, and she knew without checking what would have been taken.

The G'Kar Files. Project Bermuda Triangle. It was the only thing of any interest stored there.

But very few people knew about that file, very few….

Unless this came from IPX themselves, but why…. or who…. or….

She realised just how quickly her thoughts had been running and she breathed out slowly, finally bringing herself to look at the one thing she did not want to look at.