Текст книги "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)"

Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 38 страниц)

Sheridan took the rebuke and mentally stored it away. There would be a time for repayment later. "Mr. President, our allies are ready to take the matter into their own hands. A large force of their capital ships will be in a position to assault Epsilon Three within a few days."

"You once said that you did not want to bring your allies deeper into this affair, for fear of what the Vorlons might do in retaliation. This is so important to them, to risk doing that?"

"It is. I regret that their objectives will be destruction rather than capture, but even that will be a boon to us. We will never be in a position to take over the Great Machine again. Better it should be destroyed than serve the enemy, don't you think, Mr. President?"

"I do not think. This attack is not to go ahead. And nor is there to be any form of reprisal against Bester. Not yet. Both of these problems will be dealt with in time, when it is right to do so."

Sheridan gave no visible sign of shock. He wished right now he could strangle Ivanova for her incompetence. He should have been given charge of this project from the very beginning. "Then what do you plan for the next engagement? We have too many enemies to leave them all unattended for another day."

"Indeed we do, and we haven't yet finished off one of our old ones. Sinoval, and the Minbari. I want him captured or killed, and his body brought before me. I took the risk of a direct assault on Epsilon Three because it seemed a likely chance, but it failed, and it was a costly failure at that. Two of our capital ships lost….

"Sinoval is our next concern, Ambassador. Direct your…. allies to him if they have so many ships lying around doing nothing. No action is to be taken against either the Great Machine or Bester for the time being. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly, Mr. President. I will relay your…. instructions to my allies. Good day." He bowed his head slightly and left, his face completely empty of his anger. Disputing the issue would be pointless. Clark was obviously working to a different agenda. But why protect Bester…. or the Machine? There was something…. something here he just could not work out.

But that could be dealt with later. This scare might very well prompt G'Kar to open the temporal rift as soon as possible and send Babylon 4 and Valen back in time now. For the salvation of the present…. and the past…. he must ensure this did not happen.

Sheridan began to formulate plans to speed up his timetable. A call to Kazomi 7, a report to Z'ha'dum…. and a very important set of orders to Ivanova.

This was not over yet.

* * *

He looks at his face in the mirror, and the image that stares back at him is that of a stranger. He no longer knows himself. He no longer understands himself. He sees only the ghosts of the past, and the nightmare he has made of his future…. of all their futures.

The future is lost now, all his grand plans, all his dreams…. all the dreams he had once shared with his best friend. They are now as dead as Turhan.

Last night had shown him that, in all its bloody glory. The blood, the flames, the screams…. not all of it had been his doing, but how would the Shadow Criers have fared without his discreet support? How much of the carnage could have been prevented if the nobles and Guards had not been so paranoid as to regard the slaughter as a personal assault on them?

And how much could have been prevented if Londo had been permitted to carry out his own plans?

Londo was lost to him now. Everything was lost.

"First Minister," said a voice at his door. His personal servant. A young man named Kiron Maray. Malachi was saddened that he knew nothing of the young man beyond his name. "First Minister, there is a runner from the Court here. Your attendance is requested."

"I am ill," he croaked, trying to make himself sound unwell. It did not take a great deal of effort.

"Yes, First Minister. I will tell him so."

Malachi raised his head once more to look in the mirror. Where had it all gone so wrong? Where had one man's noble dream turned into a nightmare which consumed the entire planet?

Where?

* * *

She was not afraid, no matter how alone she was, how trapped by darkness, how expectant of their arrival, no matter how she could see her fate, she was not afraid.

"My lord," she whispered softly. "I am sorry. Forgive me." That was what hurt her most of all – the knowledge of how Sinoval would react. Without her around, without her to bear the burden of his anger and his pain…. without her, what would he become?

She was his conscience, his confessor, everything that would help him become the leader he should be, the leader he wanted to be.

It was too dark in here, and she did not like the dark these days. But then she did not like the light either, preferring a muted half-light.

She remembered Sonovar standing over here, watching in silence as she was broken at Kalain's hands. He had done nothing, said nothing, just watched.

Meditation was rapidly becoming impossible. She rose to her feet, wondering how long she had been here. She had never been good at gauging time, and after her imprisonment in the Hall of the Grey Council that handicap had got worse. She guessed a day or two, but she just could not tell.

The door opened, and someone entered. At least, she thought someone entered. There was a brief silhouette in the doorway, and then it vanished. "Is anyone there?" she asked, trying to calm her breathing.

There was no answer. No sound even. Not even breathing.

Sighing softly, she closed her eyes. "Lights," she ordered, opening them again.

Someone was standing opposite her, at the other side of the bed.

He smiled, and she let out a strangled cry. She did not recognise him, but there was something about him that was familiar. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Death," he said, in an almost lyrical tone. "Death, death, darkness and death. You know these things, don't you? I can see it. How much did you beg to die? It tells me you did, you know. It tells me."

She breathed out slowly and began to back away. The same madness she had heard in Ashan's voice. A similar tone, although more certain, less divided. "Who are you?" she said, trying to remain calm. "How is…. it…. speaking to you?"

"It is there. Always there. Would you like it to speak to you too? That can be…. ah. No. It says that cannot be done. You're too…. too strong now. Perhaps earlier. You were not so strong then, were you?" He began to circle around the bed, moving towards her. "On your knees, begging for mercy, crying, weeping…. screaming…. Perhaps then you might have been worthy, but…. there was no opportunity, and now it's too late. Now you've got to die."

He smiled, a hideous sight, and cocked his head. "You're beautiful, you know. I think so. Very beautiful. It would be a shame to mar that beauty, but…. it tells me I must. It tells me that…. it tells me that this should be very messy. Very ugly. Very…. Oh. That isn't nice. Not nice at all."

She found herself backed up against the wall, and looked around frantically. There had to be somewhere she could go, something she could use as a weapon. No, of course there wouldn't be. Sonovar would have made sure of that. Had Sonovar sent him here to kill her? No, that was stupid. If Sonovar wanted to kill her, he could have done so before. He could have killed her at the shelter. He could….

She started, and her throat suddenly went very dry. The door was still open!

It was at the far side of the room, and she would have to get past him to get to it, but…. that was not impossible.

"This won't hurt," he said. "I'll not make it hurt. You've been hurt enough already. Kalain saw to that, and Sonovar, and all the others. Don't worry. Just close your eyes, and it will…." He closed his eyes, still moving forward. His gait was swaying and uncertain, as if he were hypnotised.

Now! She sprang forward, charging directly towards him. He started and raised his hand, something bright gleaming in it. He swung at her, but she reached him first, throwing her whole weight at him. His foot slipped and twisted, and he fell. Recovering her balance and stepping around his frenzied efforts to grasp at her, she made for the door as fast as she could.

Two steps outside the door, she literally ran into Sonovar. Reeling from the impact, she stumbled and would have fallen had he not caught her. Swaying in his not particularly gentle grip, she saw that he was accompanied by two warriors. All three of them were armed.

"Trying to reject my hospitality, my lady?" he said harshly. "I am afraid I cannot accept that."

"He was trying to kill me," she whispered. "What sort of 'hospitality' is that?"

"He? Who?" He gestured to his guards, and they entered the room. A few moments later they emerged, with Kats' mysterious assailant walking between them. There was no visible sign of a weapon.

"Ah," Sonovar said. "Forell. Yes, I understand your…. mistake that he may have intended some harm to you. He is not an easy man to like."

"He tried to kill me," she protested. "He…. he is corrupted somehow. I don't know how, but something is influencing him, something…."

"Silence!" Sonovar barked. "I trust him more than I do you, my lady. He has not betrayed our people, but you will pay for that crime shortly. In any event, Forell, you are not to go near her again, do you understand?"

"Of course, lord," he said, bowing his head. His voice was much more polite and refined now. Almost as if he were an entirely different person from the one who had attacked her.

"And now, my lady," Sonovar said. "I wish to discuss certain matters with you, in your quarters, if you have no objection?" She shook her head, still looking at Forell, and returned to her cell. He followed her.

"I apologise for your treatment, Lady," he said smoothly. "My aides misheard my instructions as to your welfare. They have been corrected. I also apologise if Forell startled you. I sent him ahead to see you were ready to receive me. I understand how he may have…. startled you."

She said no more about just how much he had startled her. He was corrupted in some way, the same taint that had consumed Ashan. Did Sonovar know about it? Was he corrupted as well? She turned to look at him. He stood tall above her, strong and powerful, an arrogant strength shining in his dark eyes.

She said his name softly, trying to infuse as much respect as she could into it.

"Yes, Lady. I suppose I still bear the title Satai, as do you, but such distinctions mean little these days. My name is title enough." He paused, studying her. She did not shift her posture, but she did avert her eyes from his piercing gaze.

"Are you comfortable here? Have you been brought enough food? Drink?"

"Neither," she replied. "But I wish only to be freed."

"Don't we all?" he replied enigmatically. "In any event, that is impossible at the moment. Sinoval will be here soon. It is a long journey from Epsilon Eridani, and that has bought me enough time, but I regret I will not be able to talk with you as much as I would like."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Oh? Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"What have you done to our people…. your people? What possible reason could you have for this?"

"I have many, but here is one. Sinoval will destroy us. Oh, under him we may be able to defeat the Enemy, and the Earthers, perhaps even win every battle we face, but where will that victory bring us? Our people are dead anyway. Sinoval has torn down everything that made us Minbari, and he will not be able to rebuild us. Not in the way he wants. A victory under him will be every bit as dark and terrible as if we had been enslaved by the Earthers.

"I will provide an alternative. Sinoval has committed too many wrongs for him to be allowed to remain."

"Minbari do not kill Minbari. And yet you did. Is that not a wrong?"

He shrugged. "Of course. I know what I have done here, and I accept it, but I punished only those who swore fealty to Sinoval…. only the weak and the cowardly. My actions may have been wrong, but my motives were pure. Can he say the same?"

"I don't need to bother arguing that. Were those in that hospital you killed guilty? Did they deserve to die?"

"They were sheltering you…. and you, Lady, are guilty."

She shook her head and tried to restrain a sob. "And there it is. A high and mighty worker aspiring to a position above her station. Only the warriors should rule, yes? Only they are fit to rule, and let the rest of us stay down in the gutter where we belong. You have no idea how many times I have heard that."

"You wrong me, Lady. Sinoval raised you to whatever position you hold because he thought you were deserving of it. I do not dispute that, but surely you more than anyone are intelligent enough to see the evil in what he has done. You have seen that, and yet you continue to serve him. That is why you are guilty."

"Yes, Sinoval has done a great deal that was wrong, but I believe in him. I chose to serve him not out of weakness, but because I know he is right, and…." She fell silent, and shied away. "I believe in him, and I always will."

"Truly? Or are you merely grateful to him for saving you? I saw you, remember…. begging on your knees, screaming…. tears running down your face…."

"Stop it!" She was crying again. "Yes, you saw me…. and you did nothing! You stood there and watched. How can you justify that?"

"I followed Kalain. He was my superior then, and I believed in him. Whatever madness afflicted him, it is gone now. It died with him. In a way, Lady, you are responsible for my actions now."

"Me?"

"Your…. ordeal showed me that the ones who rule can be as wrong and as flawed as any of us. After Kalain died I chose to embark on my own path instead of following Sinoval's. Had I not witnessed your torture, I would probably still be as those sheep on the planet, following Sinoval simply because he has claimed the right to rule. You and Kalain showed me that I did not have to follow blindly."

"You're…. you…."

"I'm sorry, Lady. I've obviously overwhelmed you. Rest here. Sleep if you wish. I will have food and drink brought to you, and I would like to talk with you again when you are feeling better. I…. I can see why Sinoval thinks so highly of you." He turned, and began to walk away.

A few moments later, he stopped. "Tell me, Lady, what is your definition of a great man? One theory could be that a great man is someone who takes his own path rather than meekly following others. What do you think of that?"

She said nothing. There was nothing to say. He left.

* * *

There had been no time for explanations, little time for questions, or answers. The next few hours passed hurriedly aboard Babylon 4.

Captain Dexter Smith was brought on board the station under heavy armed guard. He was met at the docking bay by Taan Churok.

"I was right," he said in harsh English. "I should have killed you."

"Yes," came the muted reply. "You should have."

The rest of the crew of the Babylonremained on board, although the ship was now operated by a large number of Narn Rangers. Captain Sheridan did not go near the ship, nor ask about anyone on it.

The survivors of the chaos on Epsilon 3 were brought up to the station. G'Kar was immediately rushed to the medical bay for extensive emergency work. Later reports said that he was stable, albeit with extensive internal and external injuries. Healing would take months at least.

Attempts were made to keep Ta'Lon in the medical bay as well, but he politely refused. He did consent to having his eye bandaged and disinfected, but then he insisted on meeting G'Dok and the other Ranger lieutenants. His second act was to tell them about those who had died on the planet. His first act was to rebuff all allegations that he was too weak to lead.

"I trust that scratch hasn't made you unfit to fight?" asked G'Dok.

"Hardly," came the reply. "It's just an eye, after all. I have a spare."

Ko'Dath and G'Dan came over from the Parmenionto liaise with the Narns on the station. Neither made any remark about Ta'Lon's injuries.

Dr. Mary Kirkish was also taken to the medical bay, and was diagnosed as suffering from extreme stress and trauma. She was sedated and left to rest. Commander David Corwin went to see her while she was sleeping. He whispered three words to her, words she did not hear, and then resumed his duties on the Parmenion.

Zathras remained on the planet for a while, advising and coaching Michael Garibaldi as much as he could. He frequently clicked and muttered in his own language, but it was clear that something was definitely not good.

Susan Ivanova was brought to the station. She was now semi-conscious, and seemed aware of her surroundings. Lyta Alexander, remaining on the Parmenionto scan for the presence of Shadow ships, gave a slight shudder at this time, although she would not explain why. Ivanova was taken to a cell and left there to await the attentions of those in authority.

No one dared touch the bodies at the Heart of the Machine.

A few hours after the ending of what would later be called the first stage of the Battle of the Third Line, a council was called. It was not attended by quite the number of dignitaries who had been present at G'Kar's doomed summit, but there was still enough power wielded in the room to influence a considerable portion of the galaxy.

It was Ta'Lon who spoke first. "Our current situation here is one of great danger," he explained. "The threat to this place has not ended with the surrender of the human forces. This station has a greater purpose than as a mere command centre for the war in the present. It has…. another destiny."

"This station was built to go backwards in time a thousand years, and serve a vital role in the last war against the Darkness."

Some of those present knew that already, but a great many did not. Lethke and Taan Churok in particular looked astonished. "You will…. forgive us…." Lethke said, "But that sounds a little…. uh…. hard to believe."

"It is true," Delenn said. "This station…. this very station was used by Valen a thousand years ago. It was in the archives of the Grey Council, information known only to us. No one knew where the station had come from or how it had got there…. until now."

"Two years ago, we saw this station going back in time," spoke up Sheridan. "It's true."

"Then if that was this place's intended purpose, why not send it back immediately on construction?" asked Taan Churok. "Why build a command station if it's going to have to be…. hah, sent back in time?"

"It was hoped that we would be able to take advantage of the station for the duration of this war," Ta'Lon explained. "We did not have the resources to build two stations, and so we…. risked a great deal. But at the time we planned this there was no sign of Valen, who would take the station back. How were we to know that he would appear on Minbar?"

"So what is the problem?" asked Lethke. "The station is secure. I will admit we could use some extra defences, but a quick message to Kazomi Seven will solve that."

"Problem?" barked Zathras. Lethke looked at the strange creature with a hint of surprise and a lot of condescension. "Problem. Zathras tell you where problem is. Problem is that great Darkness will be coming here. Soon. Now. If Enemy destroys station now, it will never go back, if station never goes back, goodness loses the war then, and…. big temporal paradoxes. All reality be rearranged. Very bad."

"Weakness!" snapped Taan Churok. "If these Shadows come, then we will fight them."

"Drazi, yes," noted Zathras. "Skulls block out brains. Very sad. Poor design. Listen, Machine is damaged. Bad woman did bad things to it. Opening temporal rift needs…. much energy. Very difficult. Some alignments need correcting, much machinery needs to be repaired. Machine may not be powerful enough after bad things done. Very unstable. What will happen later…. Zathras cannot say, but Zathras not like to think. Could be very bad."

"What he means," said Ta'Lon, noting bafflement on the faces of the Drazi and the Brakiri, "is that the Machine is growing very unstable at the moment. The forced rejection of Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar…. the weapons raised against us here…. the death of its previous host…. We cannot be sure if the Machine will be able to maintain its integrity for much longer. If we are to send Babylon Four back into the past it will have to be done now, or we risk losing the chance for a long time to come."

"When can we…. manage this feat?" asked Lethke. He looked at Zathras.

"Ah, G'Kar being very clever, yes. Temporal rift already open. A little. Important machinery already attached to station. Very clever indeed. But…. temporal rift now a little…. out of synch. Need to be realigned. Mr. Garibaldi doing that, yes. Zathras will soon attend to finishing off work there. Zathras be good at doing that.

"Zathras think…. couple of days. Besides, be not forgetting one thing…. we need Valen as well. Is being no point sending station back without sending Minbari back with it. That be very foolish."

Lethke suddenly seemed to realise something. "This…. temporal rift is already open?"

"In part, yes. Very clever of G'Kar, as Zathras said."

"Then is that what has caused all the…. unexplained events here? Dreams, strange voices from nowhere, visions of things in the past, in the future?"

"Ah. Yes, is possibility." Zathras paused, deep in thought. "That is not so clever." None of them noticed the frantic look Sheridan gave Delenn, a brief remembrance of a dream long past.

"Perhaps we should discuss this with the rest of the Council," Lethke said. "This sounds…. um…."

"No," Delenn said firmly. "We will do as Zathras has said. We must. We will send a message to Kazomi Seven, asking for every ship that can be spared to help defend this place while the damage is repaired. We…. will also need Valen. It is vitally important that our defence is secure until both the station and Valen have gone back in time."

"As you say," Lethke said, nodding. "How much time are we likely to have until the…. Shadows arrive?"

"Maybe none at all," replied Delenn, and they all fell silent.

* * *

The fires had at last stopped burning in the capital city of Centauri Prime. The night of madness had receded, leaving the survivors to count the cost, to try to rebuild, to mourn loved ones lost, to take stock of what had happened.

"A hasty Court session has been called," reported the agent. "First Minister Malachi has apparently been invited, but is too ill to attend. Rumours have it Lord Jarno is to be arrested on charges of treason. It is said that he personally attacked and murdered Lord Kiro last night."

"Lord Kiro?" barked Lord Valo. "Well, who'd have thought that coward Jarno had it in him? Won't do him any good of course. What else?"

"Something is happening in the southern territories. Reports are unclear at best, but from the sound of it Sphodria and Gallia have been overwhelmed by an outside force. Some say Narn sympathisers. My best guess is soldiers loyal to Governor Mollari."

"Governor? Another weakling, far too many of them. Still…. I heard he had Marrago on his side. Anything on that?"

The agent shrugged. "Rumour does suggest that, but then rumour has placed him almost everywhere in the galaxy since Quadrant Thirty-seven was lost. Some say he's living on the Narn homeworld right now. We haven't been able to get accurate information out of Selini for months. One thing I do know is that Minister Durano was there, which…. might explain that."

"The military?"

"The frontier regiments are still patrolling the border, although skirmishes with the Narns have been rare lately. They will follow whoever sits on the throne, although a few of the captains have expressed…. concerns about the current leadership, and would not be averse to a change. Several ships have disappeared and there has been a big increase in the number in orbit around Centauri Prime itself, although no one has admitted to ordering this. There has still been no official appointment of a new Lord-General."

One question left, the important one, the one which would decide the future of the Republic. "Do we have enough guards on our side to mount an assault on the Court?"

"Yes. We do."

"Thank you. Go." The spy nodded, bowed and left. An invaluable find, one of Durano's proteges, he had recognised the need for strength and order in the Court, and had chosen to throw his hand in with Valo. A wise choice. Valo was one of the few nobles in the Court who had seen real combat, who knew how to lead, how to fight, how to be strong.

A military coup. That was what was needed. Jarno had had the right idea, unusually for him, and so had Kiro, but they were all feinting around the sidelines, striking at each other. If any of them had had half the military mind Valo had, they would have known that the way to win any battle was to go for the head, and where was the head? The Court itself.

"You heard all that?" Valo asked. His companion stepped out from hiding and nodded.

"What do you think? What is your uncle up to?"

"I have no idea," replied Carn Mollari. "I haven't spoken to him in years."

"Well, we'll soon find out. A few days at most, and then we'll make a stab at the Court. Once we control it, the rest of the military and the Guards will fall in with us. It'll all be over, Carn."

Carn smiled, and nodded. "Indeed it will…. Majesty."

* * *

Delenn hesitated as she looked at the quiet form seated before her. She was not entirely sure why she had come here, but she did know that words needed to be said, and that she was the person to say them.

"It is strange how things can change in a handful of hours," she said, and noticed Captain Smith start, raising his head to look at her.

"Yeah. 'Let no man be called happy or great until he be dead,' hmm?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Something someone said a long time ago. It doesn't matter. So, have you decided what to do with me? Sheridan promised an amnesty for my crew, remember."

"Yes, he told me…. and that amnesty has been accepted. Some of the alliance were…. unappreciative, but we convinced them. Your crew will be permitted to return home as soon as the current crisis is over."

"Well, that's something. Thank you. I…. wait…. what current crisis?"

"A…. topic for another day, I believe. Tell me, Captain, why did you offer yourself as compensation for your crew?"

"There's no reason why they should pay for my mistakes. Besides, I could hardly return home. Do your people have a word for scapegoat?"

"I…. am familiar with the term, yes. I have been used in that position myself. Your people would do the same to me if they could. No matter what either of us may feel, Captain…. my death would not undo what has been done."

"Nor will mine, but I'm willing to give it a try anyway. Tell me, what are you going to do with me?"

"Some people wanted you dead, yes…. but I have had another idea. I am going to make you an offer, Captain. A chance to buy your freedom. And your life.

"How would you like to fight alongside us?"

He laughed.

* * *

Lord-General Marrago knew all about responsibility. He had been born to it, trained almost from birth to the duties that were his heritage as a member of a noble line. He had learned the hard way about the responsibilities he owed to the soldiers who served alongside him and under him. He knew about his duties to his family, and to his family name. He knew about the bonds of loyalty to old friends – one had compelled him to marry a woman he did not love, and another had forced him to raise arms against his own Government.

But as he sat alone in a room stinking of blood, he pondered on his responsibilities to his people, his planet, his friends…. They had never seemed heavier.

He had just received word that Londo was missing somewhere in the capital. None of Durano's agents could find him, or indeed find any trace that he had even arrived.

This had always been a possibility. In a war fought primarily by poison in the wine cup or knife in the dark, Londo had always been aware that he might be lost before the capital and the Court could be taken, and he had planned accordingly. Marrago knew enough of his plans to continue and conclude this campaign. He might even be capable of becoming Emperor himself, although he had no wish to be so.

He looked around the room that had once been the study of the Governor of Gallia, a room where several of his servants and family had been butchered by a blood-crazed mob who had carried the terrified Governor away…. Marrago had had the bodies removed, but he could do nothing about the smell. He was a soldier. Death was a constant companion.

He was thinking about death as well as responsibility. Londo's death and his responsibility to him. Marrago had had to tell a great many people that those they loved would never be coming home, but it would be so much harder this time. How to tell Timov?

A beeping sound came from his coat, and he started. With a soft sigh he realised what it was: Londo's personal communicator. Londo had given it to him before leaving for the capital, knowing that it could conceivably be used to trace important conversations.

Marrago pulled it out and activated it. A face he knew showed up on the screen. Carn Mollari, Londo's nephew and one of their most trusted agents in the capital.

"Lord-General," he said. "Where…. where is our leader?" No names. Names could be very dangerous if anyone were to overhear.

"He is…. unavailable at present. What do you have to report?"

"Events here are moving faster than I'd expected. The city has calmed down, but the tensions in the Court are on the verge of exploding again. My…. friend is going to attack the Court openly within a few days. You have to get here soon, or there won't be anyone left to rule over."

"We don't have the time, or the resources. We're spread thinly as it is, just trying to secure our hold on the territory we control now. You have to delay things."

"I can't! He's moving too fast. I never thought he'd be this ready for it. He really believes he can make himself Emperor."