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

For various reasons the Babylon Project had fallen by the wayside and been forgotten. Official secrecy had been maintained, but to those who had been involved in its operation it was the greatest lost chance of the last decade.

But fortune favoured the bold, or so it was said. Humanity was now free and powerful again, a young colossus bestriding the galaxy once more. Babylon 4, the station that had been intended to redeem them, had been built by another for purposes unknown.

And humanity was now on the verge of another victory.

The Earth Alliance starships Babylon, Morningstar, Corinthian and Marten moved into position, their respective captains trying not to reveal their anxieties. This mission had been planned meticulously, and thus far everything seemed to be going as planned. The two human ships working for the enemy — the Parmenion and the Ozymandias — had gone, lured away through false means by an ally. None of the four captains had relished the thought of opposing their own people, least of all the legendary Starkiller, Captain Sheridan.

Also gone was the strange vessel Cathedral, believed to be commanded by the Minbari war criminal Sinoval. No one knew the exact circumstances behind that disappearance, but the timing was put down to fortuitous coincidence.

The only defences now remaining were the three ships from the United Alliance of Worlds — two Drazi Sunhawks and a Brakiri heavy cruiser — all of which could easily be dealt with should that be necessary; the integral defences of the station itself; and the awesome power of the Great Machine on the planet below, which should already have been neutralised.

On board the Babylon, more grateful than anyone else that its former captain had gone, Dexter Smith leaned forward and re-opened channels.

"This is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. I repeat, you are to stand down and surrender the station and all persons and objects on board. Failure to do so will provoke an attack."

There was a crackle as a reply came over the channel. Obviously the inhabitants of the station were taking precautions to prevent any surreptitious tracking or decoding.

"This is Lethke, Minister for the Economy of the United Alliance of Worlds. This station has our full support and any attack on our ships or persons will be considered an act of war against the Alliance."

Smith resisted a sigh of relief. He had been briefed about this possibility. He had also been ordered to supervise all the communications while his fellows got themselves into position to prevent any escapes and set up jamming mechanisms.

"I assure you, minister, we have no quarrel with the Alliance at all. We do however, have rights over the station and the planet, rights of discovery and occupation under the Interstellar Territory Pacts of twenty-two thirty-five, twenty-two thirty-nine and twenty-two forty-two. All items and persons sworn to the Alliance will be permitted to leave, saving only those who are wanted for crimes against our Government."

There was a long silence, and Smith knew what would be going through the alien's mind. Those wanted for crimes against the Resistance Government…. that could only refer to Delenn, former Satai of the Minbari and current President of the Alliance (although she apparently disliked that term). She had been in humanity's hands once, but had managed to slip away. That would not happen again.

Finally, Lethke responded: "Are you suggesting therefore that we are to negotiate on this matter?"

"We will not initiate any acts of violence unless violence is offered to us. We merely wish to enforce our rights. Unfortunately however, any sign of opposition will have to be met with deadly force. Once they are sure there is no danger from this area, my Government will send in legal teams and diplomatic arbiters to resolve this matter. I assure you again, Minister, we intend no hostilities against the Alliance, unless we are acted against."

With a sense of inevitable resignation, the Brakiri stabilised the signal. "You are welcome to board, Captain. We stand down our arms."

A wave of Darkness swept over Centauri Prime that night. Seeresses and sensitives all over the planet awoke screaming, paralysed by the terrors of great evil touching them. Screams echoed through the streets and blood ran from the walls.

The number of suicides in that one night was more than double than of the last two months together. In the city of Sphodria, a major trading port and the site of an ancient military victory over the Xon, the Governor of the city spent three hours writing the words, "The Darkness is coming" all over the walls of his house. The words were written in the blood of his wife, his children and his servants. He then threw himself from the roof of the house.

In the powerful mountain city of Camulodo, renowned as a seat of great learning, the curator of the Great Imperial Museum burned the building to the ground. He remained inside it as it burned. He had already clawed out his eyes and was in the process of eating his fingers as he burned to death.

Gallia, a prominent market town, saw its Governor dragged from his bed in the middle of the night by a crazed mob led by three preaching Shadow Criers. Claiming to be heralding in the coming Darkness they threw the Governor into an ancient well and began to pile it full of stones. His feeble cries ended as the last stone was thrown on top of him.

There was no word, no communication, no sign of any kind from the capital.

And on the island of Selini, in the hill farms, in the coastal inlets and coves, and in the capital city of Remarin, home of a new rebellion, there was….

…. peace.

Everyone slept well, except for those suffering from indigestion, or who tended to sleepwalk. There were few bad dreams, no cries for mercy or vengeance, no blood shed in the streets.

In fact the whole island slept, save only for the guards, some of the military, and the inhabitants of the Governor's personal dwelling.

"The fires in Camulodo are rumoured to be getting out of control," reported the dry voice of Lord Durano, formerly of the Ministry of Intelligence. He had always been dispassionate and dedicated, but now it seemed more as if he were reciting the results of this week's moren-ball contests. "Apparently some of the fire service have tried dealing with the situation, but they are being hampered by the mob, and some of the firemen themselves have fallen prey to…. whatever is happening."

"So many dying," muttered Governor Londo Mollari. He could not remember the last time he had slept well, and he certainly wouldn't tonight. He had been on the verge of going to bed when Durano had arrived with Virini and Marrago. Their reports from agents and allies in the three nearest mainland cities had made for grim reading.

"Has the whole planet gone mad?" he asked. "What in the Emperor's Name is happening?"

"We cannot say," replied Durano. "Some sort of psionic backlash perhaps. It is my belief that only a fraction of those afflicted by this…. madness are actually experiencing anything abnormal. The others are in all probability merely responding to the charisma or madness of their leaders."

"But still…. all this…. and for there to be nothing here. There is no explanation of why we here are all unaffected?"

Durano spread his arms wide. "A more comprehensive study might reveal more information, but there could be any number of reasons."

"Well, then. It is time we used this immunity to our advantage. Marrago, how many soldiers do we have here on the island?"

The former Lord-General of the Centauri Republic's armies stood up, the figures instantly at his command. "The five-thousand-strong Selini Guard, which includes the five hundred of the Governor's Personal Guard." An anachronism these days, but one that had been maintained in the name of 'tradition'. Since Londo's rise to power, all those old and forgotten traditions had actually become very useful.

"We also have some seven thousand members of the regular army. These are men I have been gathering from my old regiments and commands, people who are generally unhappy with the way the war with the Narns is going. Some are victims of dispossession in the capital and the surrounding areas."

"Twelve thousand. Hmm…. it will have to be enough. Marrago, you are to gather the armies and take them to the mainland, as swiftly as possible. They are to restore calm and preserve the political order in Sphodria, Camulodo and Gallia."

"Of course, but is this not a little…. premature? And all three at once? The original plan was to take them one at a time."

"The original plan had not anticipated this…. insanity. If we do not save these cities now there will be nothing left of them to save. Durano, the regular military has made no attempt to take any action in these cities?"

"No. In fact the Sphodria barracks withdrew from the city a few hours ago. I believe they all travelled by airship to the main barracks at the capital. The bases at Camulodo and Gallia have been largely abandoned for months."

Londo looked at Marrago. His eyes felt as though they were burning. "You see, Marrago. If we do not help these people…. our people…. then no one else will. We are their only hope."

"We cannot take all three, Londo. Not tonight. There is simply not enough time, and not enough decent under-officers. I can supervise the…. preservation of one myself, and I believe there are enough decent officers to manage the protection of another, but a third…. our soldiers would only add to the problem."

"You have no one who could command the third army?" whispered Timov. She had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation with mounting horror. Londo turned to look at her, irrationally angry that she was being exposed to such tales of terror. She was still wearing her sleeping-gown, wrapped tightly around her. He sighed and bowed his head, not wanting even to look at her, to associate her with the decision he knew was coming.

"No, Lady Timov. I am sorry, but so few of the army's officers joined us, and of those who did, there were very few I could trust. I organised and managed our army almost entirely myself. Only the captain of the Selini Guard knows anything at all about our full plans, and not even he knows everything. Most of my under-officers do not even know how many soldiers we have in total." He shook his head with ironic sadness. "It was meant to be a security measure."

"Two," Londo said softly. "Then we will save two."

"Which two?" Timov asked, still in the doorway.

Londo looked up at his companions. Marrago looked at the ceiling and rubbed at his eyes. "We will need Sphodria if we are to mount any sort of extended campaign on the mainland. It would be a vital part of our supply centres. We always knew we would need to control Sphodria before we could even think of making for the capital."

"Gallia is an important centre for the mid-territories," spoke up Durano, looking at Marrago and nodding. "A great many of the Court nobles have estates near there, families based in the city, mansions and so forth. Unfortunately they will probably think of their mansions more than their friends when they hear the city is in danger."

"And protecting Gallia may win us their aid…. or at least quiet support?" Londo said. He felt tired, very tired. Durano nodded. "Well then. It seems our plans are set. Marrago, muster the army. Sphodria first. Take whatever steps are necessary to establish order and try to save as many of the local Parliament as you can. Then…. see to Gallia. Protect as many of the Court nobility's mansions as possible, but take no unnecessary risks. I cannot have my Lord-General cut down by an insane farmer with a scythe." Marrago managed an obligatory chuckle, but all of them knew he did not mean it.

"I was born in Camulodo," said Timov suddenly. Londo turned to look at her, and her expression nearly broke his hearts. "I was fostered there with my aunt for three years as a child. Those were the happiest times of my life."

There was silence. Londo rose to his feet and moved to his wife, saying her name softly. She turned and backed away, moving back into their bedroom. He stopped at the door and punched the wall lightly. Even that hurt his knuckles.

He started suddenly at the sound of movement. Looking up he saw Lennier enter the room, and he breathed out slowly. He must be even more tense than he had thought.

"Governor Mollari," the Minbari said, "Prime Minister Malachi is on the line and he wishes to speak with you."

"Malachi?" said Marrago, evidently surprised. "Some kind of trap, perhaps?"

"A trick to find out where we are," suggested Durano. "A tracking ploy."

"He already knows where we are, and he has known for months. No, he wants to talk, nothing more. Gentlemen…. you know what must be done. May the Gods speed you all on your way safely…. if the bastards even exist, which I am beginning to consider more seriously nowadays."

"Oh?" Durano said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if the Gods don't exist, someone up there is out to get me."

Londo moved to the viewscreen in the other room, aware of Lennier standing protectively at the door, pointedly not looking at the viewscreen or making any attempt to listen. He was a good man…. for a Minbari. Londo looked at the viewscreen, at the face of his old friend, of the wise old advisor who had taken in a young, idealistic politician with delusions of grandeur.

"Malachi," he said, no hint of warmth in his voice. "What an unexpected surprise."

Malachi looked so tired. So old. Londo wondered if he looked the same. "Tell me, Londo. How would you like to come to the capital?"

She began to move, heading in the direction of what she hoped was a door. She had no idea of where she was, or, more importantly perhaps, where he was.

"It says you must die. It shows me where you are. You cannot run from me."

Kats grimaced in pain and tried to keep moving. Blood was pounding in her ears. The voice — his voice — was so loud.

"It says you must….

"…. beg for my forgiveness! You have done wrong. You have sinned and you will be punished."

Kalain's voice. Her outstretched arm came up against a wall and she paused, breathing harshly. For a moment she tried to be quiet, remaining still and motionless, but then she remembered Ashan's words. Whatever it was that was telling him to kill her, it was directing him. He knew where she was.

"I can see you. It can see you. I…. I don't want…. to do this. But it says I must. It says the good of my people depends on this. You followed him, you see. You didn't have to. Nobody made you. It was a mistake, the wrong decision, and now you must be punished for it. It says that it's all your fault."

He was near her now. She could hear his footsteps. She could smell him now as well. He smelled…. wrong, almost as if he were dead and decomposing. His words were flat and toneless.

Gulping in air, touching the wall for balance, she tried to move. A sharp pain burst in her shoulder and she stumbled. Something rolled beneath her foot and she fell.