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

"In his name, it is a pleasure to be here," she replied. Callenn's face smiled, but his eyes showed that he lied. Tarolin 2 had sworn fealty to Sinoval out of fear and weakness, not courage or strength. Callenn had been afraid — of the Drakh, of the humans, of the raiders — and only Sinoval possessed the strength to guard him and his colony.

Still, Tarolin 2 was an old colony, and a powerful one. A reasonably safe place for many of the refugees fleeing from the devastation of Minbar. As long as the leaders knew to whom they owed fealty.

"We have prepared all the records you requested of us. My acolyte here, Ashan, will be happy to show them to you, and help you if you have any questions."

"I thank you for your foresight, Administrator. Primarch Sinoval also thanks you for your loyalty." Callenn visibly flinched at the sound of Sinoval's title.

"Well," he said, evidently searching for a suitable phrase. Kats could tell that Kozorr was enjoying Callenn's discomfort. "We have…. always been loyal to the Holy…. er, the…. Primarch here. Always loyal."

"Your loyalty is beyond question," she said, trying not to smile. "If you do not mind…. it has been a long journey and we are tired…."

"Of course, of course. Quarters have been arranged for you and your staff. Ashan will show you to them. Ashan!" The acolyte stepped forward and bowed briefly.

"This way, Satai," he said, gesturing to them to follow him.

At that very moment the entire top half of the Administration Building was blown apart. In the heavens, jump points began to open and Tak'cha ships flooded in.

The Minbari civil war had just begun.

It was almost dawn on Kazomi 7. Valen stood at peace, watching the suns rise. He closed his eyes and let their warmth caress him.

There had been another time, he knew, when he had enjoyed watching the rising of the sun. He had always been an early riser and had often been outside, watching, at dawn. Then he had gone into space, and he had grown accustomed to being in darkness. Now, he was content to see light again.

Are you ready? asked the booming voice in his mind. It felt as though a breeze of air was brushing through his skull, bearing just a trace of melody with it. There were hints of regret in the voice.

"Ready for what?" he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew. No, he wasn't ready. He wanted the uncertainty of the future, rather than the finality of the past. He didn't want to walk into the desert, knowing he would be following his own footsteps all the way.

It is almost time.

"No! I'm not ready. I'm not going back. I'm…." He stopped, and bowed his head. He would have to go back, he knew that. Destiny, the future, the past…. everything depended on him. He had never asked to be this fulcrum, but still, it had been thrust upon him.

"Yes. I'm ready."

No. But you will be. Know the past. Know the future. Be one with yourself. Then you will be ready.

He did not ask what that meant, as no explanation would have been forthcoming even if he had. Sighing, he felt the voice leave him, and he turned back to the sunsrise.

Know the past. How could he know the past? He could barely remember anything before stepping into the Temple of Varenni. Fragments, nothing more. He could remember more about people he had never met than about the people who had once shared his heart. Marrain, Nukenn, Zathras…. all these were more alive to him than the brother he barely recalled, or his parents, or…. Catherine….

"Catherine," he whispered. She more than anyone else he should be able to remember. He had tried pushing back the boundaries of his memories, but to little avail. Her name, her eyes, the faintest hint of her scent…. nothing else.

"Know the past," he said softly.

"Talking to yourself is meant to be one of the first signs of madness," said a voice from behind him. Slowly, unsure of what he was hearing, he straightened, and turned. "But then, if you want to become a Minbari and start acting like one of their Gods, then I guess you're way past that stage, hmm?"

It was her!

"Catherine?"

She smiled. "Hello, Jeffrey."

They called him the Starkiller, the last hope of humanity, the scourge of the Minbari, the greatest living captain. They had called him those things before he had betrayed them, before he had allied himself with the Minbari, and even dared fall in love with one of them. Little about John Sheridan was now common knowledge. People did not like to think about him, even after the recent victories. When they did speak of him they did so in hushed voices as if he were gone forever, in tones of reverence for the nobly dead.

Such an ironic prophecy was nearly true, for John Sheridan was dying. He did not talk about it, save to the one person who had become closer to him than anyone he had ever known. Indeed, only two others even knew of his fate.

He was not afraid of death, and he had already made his plans for dealing with the situation when it became necessary.

He had never been afraid of death, but he was afraid now. The instincts that had kept him alive for so long were screaming at him. Something was happening, or was going to happen, and he was not in control of it. That frightened him.

Not long ago he had received a message, short, but strange. It did not seem to make sense, and yet it was the kind of message he could not ignore.

Breathing in slowly, he rang the door chime, which was answered almost immediately with a "Yes?" The mere sound of that voice made him smile. He could have spent all day doing nothing but listen to it.

"It's me, Delenn. Can I come in?"

"Always," she replied. He knew she would be smiling and sure enough, when the door opened and he stepped inside, she was. She glided across the floor to meet him, her smile lighting up the room. "I thought you were running drills on the Parmenion tonight," she said. "Or did you finish early just to be with me?"

"No…. ah, not that I didn't want to…. it's just that…." He paused, catching his breath, and his thoughts. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. I was just going over the proposals put forward by the Drazi Government. They seem to think they are entitled to a larger share in the Alliance than we are giving them. It is nothing, but even if it were important, I would put it aside for the moment." She looked at him closely. "John…. is something wrong?"

"Yes…. ah, no…. I don't know. Have you seen G'Kar recently?"

"No, not since…. this morning. Why?"

"I got a strange message from Bester just now. An order, more like. It sounds as if there's something major going on. He's…. recalling me to Sanctuary."

She frowned. "Did he give a reason?"

"No, none. That's why I wanted to see G'Kar. See if he knows anything. This is…. it just has a bad feel about it. Not to mention that with the Parmenion gone, and the Ozymandias as well, there'll be only the Alliance ships left to defend this place if anything goes wrong."

"There is also the Great Machine, which is more than capable of defending the station. You remember the first time we saw it?" He nodded. "Still, this might be a cause for concern. Perhaps we should try to find G'Kar."

He nodded again. "Now?"

"No time like the present." Smiling, he took her arm and they left her quarters, his long stride consciously slowed to match her shorter one.

As they began to walk down the corridor however, they encountered two figures coming the other way. Sheridan started and stiffened, and he knew Delenn had noticed the tension in his arm.

He looked at the two men closely. Captain Ari Ben Zayn and his telepath, Harriman Gray. Bester's men through and through. Both men had noticed them and while Gray looked uneasy, Ben Zayn consciously straightened his bearing and stopped, waiting for Sheridan and Delenn to approach him.

"I thought I'd find you with her," Ben Zayn said, addressing Sheridan directly without a glance at Delenn. "Didn't you receive your orders, then?"

"I received them," came the careful reply. Sheridan was looking directly at Gray, who seemed…. fascinated by his gaze. That was still better than looking at Ben Zayn. The man was a career soldier, with years more experience than Sheridan himself. His scar seemed to bleed as Sheridan looked at it. "I was just looking for G'Kar to…."

"And have you started working for G'Kar now, Captain?" he snapped. "You work for Bester. The Parmenion is his ship, its crew are his men and you are his soldier. Have you forgotten that?"

"No, Captain, I haven't. But Bester did post me here to safeguard this project of G'Kar's, as well as to maintain general order in the League and Alliance worlds, as per G'Kar's wishes. My exact post was, if I remember the term correctly, Bester's liaison with G'Kar."

"Yes, I am completely aware of that, but now Bester has requested your presence on Sanctuary. This supersedes your posting here. You are to come along…. now, or your ship and your crew will have to go without you."

"You know as well as I do that at least half of that crew is mine."

"And they will obey the orders of Major Krantz just as well as they would yours. If they do not do so, then they can easily be replaced. You have your orders, Captain. So, unless your recent freedom has affected your ability to obey them, I expect to see the Parmenion leaving here within the hour. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you perfectly well! But I have my responsibilities here, to G'Kar, to this station, to…." He stopped as he felt Delenn tapping his arm gently.

"Go, John," she said. "We will be fine here." He started to speak, to protest, but his words were stifled by her kiss. "I love you," she said softly, so softly it was hardly audible. "Go."

She stepped back and, with a twirl, turned and went back towards her quarters. Sheridan focussed his gaze on Ben Zayn. "We will be gone within the hour," he snapped. "And if this is no emergency, we will be back here equally quickly. Good day, Captain."

He stormed down the corridor without saying another word.

Lord Jarno stood at his window looking out at the streets of his city, and shivered. It was night-time and yet the city was lit as if it were day. Not just by lights, but by the fires.

They had been burning for days, it seemed — in the warehouse sector, the peasant villages, the fields, even in the streets themselves. Where each inferno blazed, someone stood in the centre of it, screaming that the Shadow was coming.

Jarno did not need to be told about the Shadow, he saw it every night in his dreams. The sky was blacked out by the appearance of countless billions of ships, each one screaming inside his mind.

Shadow Criers they called themselves. Madness, but an enlightened madness. They preached that everything would burn, all would be destroyed when the Darkness came.

"Still looking outside? Why bother? The City Guard will put out the fires eventually, that's what they're there for, after all. And then they'll find out who did it and execute them. Come back to bed."

He did not turn from the window at the sound of her voice. Many times over the last year he had begun to wonder why he had ever listened to it in the first place. He had always been ambitious…. before, but for the greater glory of the Republic, not for his own advancement.

But then he had begun to listen to her and old dreams had begun to surface. At first they had sounded so reasonable. Of course the Republic needed strength, now more than ever. Good people had been ignored by the Court for too long and if it took something a little…. extreme to force them to recognise that, then so be it.

Somewhere along the way, however, it had all gone wrong. He didn't know where. From the moment she had first manoeuvred him into her bed, making a mockery of his marriage vows? From the death of Emperor Refa perhaps? Maybe from the emergence of the first Shadow Crier. Maybe it had always been wrong and he had simply never noticed until now.

"Jarno dear," continued the petulant voice, and he sighed. "Stop looking outside. You know it only upsets you. There's something much more interesting for you to look at over here…."

He sighed again and silently cursed his own weaknesses. Perhaps they were why he had never risen as far as he felt he should have risen.

"The city is burning," he muttered softly. "The city…. is burning."

"Only the parts of it that don't matter. The Guard will never let the fires get anywhere near the Noble Quarter."

"People are dying."

"People who don't matter. The peasants. There will always be more of them around."

He sighed again and nodded. He was considering returning to bed when his commscreen beeped. Turning towards it, he suppressed a surge of fear. Who could possibly be contacting him at this time of night? This could be nothing good.

"I'm sorry, my lord," spoke the voice of his aide over the commchannel. "I will tell the Lord Kiro that you are unable to take his call at the moment…."

Lord Kiro? Jarno swallowed harshly. "No. I'll take it now." He moved over to the screen, watching as his companion awkwardly pulled the sheets up to cover herself.

The image came into view on the screen, and Jarno looked at his fellow noble. Once, many years before, the two had been friends, fostered together at his uncle's estate. A million years ago now. Both of them had changed too much, and neither made any mention of that time in their childhood.

"What is the meaning of this, Jarno?" Kiro asked. He looked positively apoplectic.

"The meaning of what, Kiro? Do you know what time it is?"

"Of course I know the time, and you know full well what I am referring to! I have been at my estates all week, and when I return, not half an hour ago, I find guardsmen all around my house here. My servants tell me that no one has been allowed to enter or leave since they arrived, and the guards tell me they were ordered there by you! What is the meaning of this, Jarno?"

Jarno straightened automatically at Kiro's tone, even though he could not dispute the rightfulness of his anger. Jarno knew nothing of any such guardsmen, but he still maintained his composure. "It behoves us all to act as nobles, Kiro. Perhaps you have forgotten that."

"Forgotten! Jarno, I will ask you one last time. What is the meaning of this outrage? If I do not receive an answer then I will have to take this matter to the Centarum, and have you arrested."

"Your tone does not befit you, Lord Kiro. This conversation is at an end. I trust we will be able to speak later, when you are suitably calmed." Kiro made to reply, but Jarno cut the transmission. He then turned to his companion.

"Very masterful," she said, discarding the covers and rising from the bed. "I did not know you had it in you." She smiled. "I was very impressed."

"You did that, didn't you?"