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

"Is that likely to happen?"

Tu'Pari chuckled. "I very much doubt it."

One of the mundanes at the far end of the room stepped forward. The man. She had known his name once, she was sure, but could she still remember it? She trawled through his thoughts, ripping into memories and ideas as casually as she would flick through an address book. Lianna…? Frank…? Garibaldi! Of course. She knew him now. She had no idea who those other names belonged to, but they hardly mattered.

"Look, Donne…. this is taking things a bit far. I can't believe the Boss authorised this. Why don't you…. just…. give him a call at Sanctuary? I'm sure that machine can do that."

The Boss? Al! Alfred Bester! Yes. She was…. meant to…. do something…. tell him something…. It couldn't have been important.

"I will do as I please. You live by my sufferance, mundane. Don't forget that. You…." Her attention was diverted by the sound of G'Kar coughing. "Tu'Pari, wake him up!"

The assassin nodded and pulled out a small vial from a pocket of his tunic. Applying its contents to a cloth, he held it to G'Kar's face and pressed it against the fresh, deep wound across his cheek.

The prophet screamed as his body spasmed, forcing him back into consciousness.

"What is the secret, Narn?" she asked. "Tell me!"

"You…. are doing…. more harm…. than you know…. Give…. up…. the…. Machine…."

She laughed. "Give up all this? Tu'Pari, you've obviously damaged his mind somehow with those knives of yours. G'Kar…. tell me or…." She smiled. "They're fighting above our heads, you know…. fighting for control of this planet, this Machine…. and your precious station…. So many people…. so many to kill. I must confess, my experiences of killing are usually one on one. I've never done anything like this before.

"Tell me, Narn."

"No…."

"Then I'll kill them all!" Oblivious to the blood pouring from her eyes, her nose, her mouth, Donne threw back her head and sent instantaneous thought-messages to the Machine that engulfed her.

Missiles shot forth from the belly of the planet, seeking the warring factions above.

What have they done to my city?

Londo Mollari loved Centauri Prime. He loved the capital. He loved the Court, the temples, the offices, the libraries, the barracks buildings. He loved every street, every corner, every alley. He had spent the best part of his life there and there was nowhere he would rather be.

Words did not exist to describe his sadness as the transport flew over the city.

He had been in touch with his agents in the capital for some time and they had reported that matters there were bad, but he would never in a million years have believed it was this bad.

Buildings burned, the Guard — the Royal Guard — were fighting each other in the streets. Shops were being looted, people cut down, children murdered, women raped…. The whole city seemed to have gone insane.

Great Maker, what have we done? Malachi, what have you done? Can any power be worth this?

His nephew was there somewhere. Carn. Londo had sent him to manipulate the factions, to make things easier for when they needed to push north and take the capital. All those machinations seemed so hollow now. Where was Carn? A victim of this insanity? Or a part of it?

The flyer docked at the heliport and Londo disembarked with Lennier. This was where Malachi had said he would meet them.

"Stay here as long as you can," Londo instructed the pilot. Clearly afraid, the pilot nodded.

"What have they done to my city?" he asked, looking about him. The heliport was largely untouched, but the glow from the fires was bright and the screams of the victims could be heard even here. They were on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps the rioters had simply not yet reached this far.

"There is a madness here. Something…. someone perhaps, is affecting their minds." Lennier was looking around distastefully. Those were the first words Londo could recall him saying since they had left Remarin.

"Then why are we not affected?"

"Perhaps we are too strong for it? Perhaps you are anyway. I…. can feel it there. It is close, but…. my meditations will protect me."

"That is reassuring," came the sarcastic reply, but his heart was not really in it. His Minbari friend was hiding something, but he did not press him on it. Lennier had earned his privacy. "What will protect me? Large amounts of brivare, perhaps?"

"Your faith," came the simple reply.

"Faith and I parted ways a long time ago."

Lennier only nodded in reply. He looked distracted.

A few minutes later a squad of guardsmen appeared, walking towards them. Londo stiffened, and Lennier stepped in front of him, adopting a fighting stance. The guards stopped a fair distance away.

"Governor Mollari," said the leading guard, "we are to escort you to your meeting with First Minister Malachi. Please hurry. The streets are not safe."

"I noticed. But would I be any safer with you?"

The guard seemed insulted. "My orders are to escort you to the First Minister, and that is what I will do. He intended to meet you here, but conditions have worsened since he last spoke with you and he fears to travel the streets. We will provide a safe escort for you and your companion." Londo hesitated, and the guard continued. "He also said, if you proved suspicious, to remind you of your shoes. He hopes they are not too tight any more."

Londo relaxed. "Well, that means at least that you came from Malachi himself. Stand down, Lennier. We will go with these men." He went back to the flyer and turned to the pilot.

"Take up a safe position some distance from here. Come back and check this place every hour, on the hour. If we are not here in six hours, then leave and tell the Government at Selini that we are lost."

"Yes, Governor."

Londo turned back to his escort. "Merely a precaution. Well, then, Captain…. let us go."

She has seen death, too much death. She has known war, far too much of it. She has stood, high and imperious, as others bled and fought and died in her name. She has tried to renounce these old ways and embrace a new path, but conflict seems to follow the fallen Satai Delenn wherever she goes.

She remembers the title she gave to Captain Smith. Zha'valen. Outcast. A shadow upon Valen. She has not thought of that title in months, not since she took on a new position of power, one which she swore not to abuse in the way she had the last.

And yet she has brought her people, her followers, her friends, and the man she loves above all else, to this place…. and the war seems to have followed them.

Her incarceration in the brig had been short-lived, as some of G'Kar's Narn Rangers had managed to free her within hours. The fighting for the station had been brief, but bloody. Captain Smith had left many of his Security officers here, and Delenn had no doubt they were trained to the pinnacle of human efficiency. But this was not their home, they did not believe as the Narns did, they had not been trained to give their lives for the greater good, as the Narns had….

They were not Rangers.

Looking at them, talking to them, being with them, Delenn felt a brief surge of pride. These were truly as the Rangers of old, of Valen's day. She and those like her might have failed in their duties, but the gauntlet had been picked up, and was being wielded with the iron glove of the warrior and the open palm of the peacemaker.

But for all the pride she felt, there was an equal amount of guilt. The gauntlet should never have been thrown down in the first place. How different would things have been if the sin of pride had never overtaken her people?

She walked on to the command deck of the station, to find Lethke already there. He turned to greet her, and managed a faint smile. "Delenn…. it is good to see you are safe."

"Are any of us truly safe? How is it going?"

"Ah, I chose to study economics rather than warfare, and so I can't really say. The odds, however, look to be against us. Taan Churok has taken his personal flyer and is joining our ships, but…. there seems to be rather a lot of them."

"Anything from the planet?"

"No. Not a word. I fear it has been compromised."

Delenn closed her eyes, and thought of G'Kar…. warrior and peacemaker in one. If he had fallen, then…. No. Time for doubts later. She knew full well the importance of this place, and just how much it had to be protected.

She turned to the leader of the Rangers who had rescued her. "G'Dok, how much control do we have over the weapons?"

"All we need."

"Good…. we have to try to take out the weapons systems of the enemy ships. Drive them away if possible. Is…. is the weaponry here capable of doing that?"

"Babylon Four was built as a place of war just as much as a place of peace. We can do that."

Delenn nodded and smiled, noting that some of the Rangers were already on post. She did not involve herself, but she did walk to the front of the control room, the better to see the state of the battle, and those who were dying.

G'Dok barked out something in his own language. He was evidently concerned. Delenn was about to ask him what he had discovered, when she suddenly realised she did not need to.

There was a blur of light, streaking towards the Brakiri ship. Before her eyes it exploded in a brilliant burst of flame, the hull torn apart, the engines bursting into flames, the entire ship consumed in the space of a few seconds.

Lethke cried out and turned away, reeling.

"What was that?" Delenn asked, unable to comprehend what she had just seen.

"From the planet," said G'Dok. "From the…. Machine."

Delenn trembled and fell back against the wall.

From Selini, the soldiers moved. North, across the sea, on a mission of mercy and salvation, to the aid of their people on the mainland.

Sphodria, a port city. A vibrant place of trade, a cosmopolitan town where few looked out of place. Records had once put the alien population of Sphodria at thirty-nine percent, more than twice that of any other city save the capital. None of them was here now, everyone who could having left before things got this bad.

The soldiers arrived from Selini by airship, flyer and boat, moving through the city, establishing order and peace wherever they went. Had they been a few hours earlier they might have had more effect, but they were still the only hand reaching out to the city in this dark hour.

They found the Shadow Criers, lunatics crying of the coming Darkness. Those they found, they killed. Some surrendered after the first shot, pitifully begging for mercy on bended knees. Others stood staring at the soldiers, began to laugh, and lit the torch to burn their physical shells. Those who could be taken alive were imprisoned swiftly. Trials could wait.

The hospitals were secured and the surviving staff rescued. Medical staff from Selini were rushed in quickly and tried to deal with the wounded and dying as best they could. The numbers needing help were overwhelming.

Two hours after entering the city Lord-General Marrago stood in the Governor's house, looking at the mess of flesh and bone that had once been the Governor's wife, children and servants. The body of the Governor himself had been outside the house.

The Darkness is coming.

The words had been written countless times on the walls, on the floor, the furniture. Marrago felt those words, and shivered.

Then, the city in reasonable peace and order, Marrago handed it over to the captain of the Selini Governor's Guard, and took half of the occupying soldiers north-west, making for the heartland, and Gallia. That city needed their help as well.

The entire planet needed their help.

Lyta Alexander screamed as the golden light engulfed her. The cries of the Brakiri and human and Drazi and Narn dying echoed in her mind, but rising above them all were the sonorous tones of the Vorlon, reminding her of the necessity of her role, and the need to protect this place.

Her will stopped the Marten head on, paralysing the vessel. Captain Walker Smith shouted furiously at his technicians and engineers, but they could do nothing. The only beings on the ship with the knowledge to correct the block were paralysed themselves, the instructions of their Keepers shut out by Lyta's telepathic pulse.

The Parmenion swept down on the Marten and with swift, measured shots, blasted away both broadside cannon, front and aft weaponry and as much of the jump engines as it could. Then, leaving the beautiful, terrifying ship dead in space, it moved on.

On a smaller scale the Starfuries clashed, human against human, perhaps friend against friend. Flight-lieutenant Neeoma Connally guided the Starfury squadrons from the Parmenion against those of the Corinthian and Morningstar. Thankfully those from the Babylon were largely engaged in skirmishing with those from the station. She did not think she could have borne fighting them. The face of her father ever before her, she pressed onwards.

On board the Babylon, Captain Dexter Smith could feel the ghost in his chair very close to him, as he tried to manouevre his ship into a position to meet the Parmenion. Elsewhere on the bridge, Lieutenant Stephen Franklin was not displeased that they were not able to do so yet.

Taan Churok and his Drazi companions rained devastating blows on the Corinthian, only to be met with equal and more savage response.

From the surface of Epsilon 3, terrifying weapons of mass destruction soared into space.

She slept without dreams, for the first time she could remember since Kalain and the Council. No dreams of pain, of him mocking her and her caste. No dreams of Sinoval, or Kozorr, the two truest friends she had ever had in her life.

No dreams at all.

Until she was awoken.

Sonovar strode past the cringing wounded as if they were not there. To him they truly were not. Workers, mostly, priestlings, some…. a warrior here and there. Not a true warrior, but an aspirant to that title. He was somehow disappointed, but then he remembered that Tarolin 2 had survived the war more or less intact, a survival brought about by cowardice, deception and weakness. They had joined Sinoval for the same reason.

Unfortunately that meant that most of those here were guilty only of cowardice, not treason. Still, when fate took him to Owari and the other worlds Sinoval claimed, the situation would be very different. True warriors at last.

Someone stepped forward to meet him, a man wearing the brown smock of a worker. He actually dared to meet Sonovar's eyes, and although he was obviously afraid, he stood and spoke anyway. Sonovar found himself liking this man.