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

"You're…. Oh my God. You're going to die."

He turned to leave, and as he reached the door he stopped and looked back. She could not be sure from the tone, but it sounded more like a plaintive request than an order. He then left.

She never saw him again.

Elsewhere, work on the Babylonproceeded apace. The damage to the ship was repaired. Losses were replaced as far as possible.

Captain Smith sat in his ready room, Captain Sheridan and Commander Corwin with him. "It's a fine ship," Smith said.

"It should be," acknowledged Sheridan. "But it was a fine ship before. What have you people done to it?"

"I didn't do anything. It was…. repairs, upgrading. I only supervised the final stages. The rest of it was all done before I was appointed."

"Why are you doing this?" Corwin asked suspiciously.

Smith studied him. "Why do you trust me enough to make the offer?"

"I don't," said Sheridan. "Delenn does, and I trust her. Still…. you made a brave offer…. yourself for your crew. I don't think many people would have done that."

"It was the right thing to do. You'd have done the same."

Sheridan nodded. "Maybe I would."

"Even so, there aren't many people who would trust me to fight alongside you."

"Delenn explained the significance of this?"

"Oh yes, she did. But I can't help but feel she left something out. That's if I even believe her. Time travel? Am I really expected to understand that this…. Babylon Four must go back in time or the whole fabric of whatever will be torn apart?"

"That's as much as I know," Sheridan lied. "It's not our place to question such things. We're soldiers. We obey orders, and that's it."

"True enough. But I'm helping you here for the good of my crew. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

And on the station maintenance workers and Rangers hurried around under the seemingly omnipresent direction of a strange little alien everyone deferred to, making repairs and alterations to technology they did not really understand.

"Yes yes. Do that. That is good. No no, not that tool, never use that tool, use this tool…. ah, no this not right tool. Ah yes, this right tool."

"That's the one I was using before!"

"Yes. Zathras know that. Do as Zathras says. Ah, everyone listen to Zathras. Zathras knows what Zathras is saying. Trust Zathras."

Sometime during this frantic charging around Zathras managed to meet with Valen, who had been mainly talking either to Catherine or Kosh, or both together.

"Zathras be going back with you. Yes. You need Zathras to help you, you see. Zathras has…. great destiny in past, yes. Not as great as Valen's destiny, but almost. Zathras must make sure Valen does not trip over own feet, yes."

Valen smiled. "I would be honoured to have you with me, Zathras."

"I'll be going too," announced Catherine.

Of all those gathered there, only Valen seemed surprised. "What? Catherine, you…."

"Don't you dare try to say I can't. I will not be separated from you again. I'm going, and that's the end of it."

"But…."

"Don't, Jeffrey. There's nothing left for me here. I'm going with you."

Zathras looked at Kosh, with a knowing sense of sadness in his eyes.

There was an equal fluster of activity on the planet, in the heart of the Great Machine, where Michael Garibaldi's physical body was enshrined surrounded by technology immeasurably old and powerful.

"Isn't that…. weird?" asked Commander Corwin, looking at both his friend's real body and the holographic form Garibaldi had created.

"No. Well, yeah, but…. It's hard to explain. I'll be glad to see the back of it, though."

"This is only temporary?"

"You bet. G'Kar said he can take this thing back once he's recovered. I'd prefer it if I didn't have to do this temporal rift thingy, but its mostly done anyway. I'm just following the instruction manual."

"Er…. yeah. Michael, what about…. Bester?"

"What about him?"

"He betrayed us all. You as well as the rest of us. And…. well, with Lianna on Sanctuary and everything. You've known Bester a lot longer than the rest of us, but…."

"I don't know why he did what he did, but he had his reasons. He's still a good man, and he must have had his reasons, whatever they were. I'll…. take it up with him later."

"Later, yes. What about Lianna? What should we tell her?"

"Tell her? Nothing. I told you, I'll only be in this thing a couple of weeks at most. Nothing can go wrong, so…. what's to worry?"

"What happened to the person who was in here before you…. that's a pretty major thing to worry about."

"Won't happen to me. Trust me, David. Nothing's going to go wrong."

Alone and almost forgotten in her cell, Susan Ivanova was sitting bolt upright, long-forgotten memories returning to her, a part of her soul that had been taken away coming back. She remembered Marcus, she remembered Laurel, she remembered her mother.

And she heard the voice of the Shadows in her mind, telling her that they would be coming soon, and telling her what she would have to do when they arrived….

* * *

Two days later, all was done. The temporal rift was open, the machinery on Babylon 4 was complete. Valen stood alone in the command centre and breathed out slowly. Footsteps in the sand.

And then he could hear the gentle music of the Vorlons in his mind, and he went to join Catherine, Zathras, Kosh and the Rangers who would be protecting him until he was at his destiny. They all seemed to accept that they might not be able to return to this time…. their own time…. and yet they seemed not to mind.

A few hours before everything was finished the hyperspace probes picked up some activity moving in the direction of Epsilon 3. All the probes were destroyed quickly and efficiently, but that only served to confirm what they all already knew.

The Shadows were coming.

The temporal rift burst into life.

Space shimmered.

And then the Shadows were there.

Chapter 7

Countless souls lay suspended in the balance. The destiny of the galaxy hung by the slenderest of threads. The fate of the future, and the past, rested on a few painfully mortal beings.

Consider: Jeffrey Sinclair, transformed into the Minbari prophet Valen. Facing the path of his own footsteps leading backwards in time to his destiny, and to his death. He stands on the control deck of the space station Babylon 4, readying himself for a time a thousand years gone, and committing those he knows now to memory, certain that he will never see most of them again.

Consider: John Sheridan, the legendary Starkiller himself. Seated at the bridge of the EAS Parmenion, he looks out at the fleet of Shadow vessels advancing on him, a fleet so huge and powerful that it will black out the sky in every direction. He thinks about mortality, and about the terminal virus even now developing within his body. He thinks about his love, about the last words he said to her, and the first lie he has ever told her.

Consider: Delenn, former Satai, leader of hope in the galaxy. Head of the United Alliance of Kazomi 7, she stands at the bridge of the Drazi ship from which she will observe the battle. She is no warrior, but she knows war, all too well and all too bitterly. She thinks about the man she loves, and she knows that he has lied to her. She thinks about the ruination of Minbar, about the countless dead, about the carnage at Kazomi 7. She thinks about the race that has done this, and her heart fills with anger, and a black, remorseless fury.

Consider: Michael Garibaldi, a human, one who never wished for anything but a home, a family, happiness and to do the right thing. That last wish has torn him away from the other three. His heart is beating fast, his head is pounding, and he looks out at a million things at once. His is the will that holds open the rift that will carry Babylon 4 to its destiny. But his will is weak, sapped by years of failure and alcohol and loss and self-doubt, and he wonders if he has the strength to carry this through.

And many others: Catherine Sakai, Zathras and Kosh, standing beside Valen; Ta'Lon, leading the Narn Rangers on Babylon 4; Dexter Smith, facing an enemy he was told was his friend, alongside allies he knows to be his enemies….

The Shadows swoop forward, and, seemingly acting as one, they open fire.

* * *

The Shadows were coming.

He listened as they died, and as they killed. His friends were dying in his name, were fighting a last stand so that he could complete his destiny. He wanted to be there with them, this one last time, but he knew that they were dying for his sake. He could not render their sacrifice worthless.

Are you ready?said the voice in his mind.

He turned to look at Kosh. The Vorlon was still, almost a statue. He wanted to hate Kosh. They were the ones who had done this to him, who had placed him here. He could not.

He did not know what to say, but the voice knew. G ood. You are the closed circle returning to the beginning. I cannot be with you then.

He gasped as he felt its pain. It was light and beauty and agony all in one. The Vorlon was going to die, and both of them knew it. The sacrifice would be made willingly. Could he do any less?

"Are you ready?" said the voice from the commscreen. "Are you…?"

He turned to look at Delenn's face in the screen. She was…. beautiful. Her eyes, her bearing, everything…. was marked by a vibrant beauty and a passionate anger. She had taught him a lot since his…. return. He wanted to remain here, to talk with her, to share in her wisdom and to learn from her. It would not be possible.

"I…. think so," he said hesitantly. "I…. thank you. For everything."

"It was no more than my duty, and no less than my pleasure. Be well, and walk with…. Oh. Of course."

He chuckled. "It is all right. For you, it will always be all right."

"Remember me?" More of a question than a request. He smiled, sweetly and sadly. As if there were any other answer.

"Always," he whispered, and touched the image on the commscreen gently. It faded and he straightened, now aware, wondering how he could never have noticed before. She was his descendant, a part of him that had lived on. He felt so much better.

It was time now. After so long, he at last knew his destiny. He was the arrow that springs from the bow. No doubts, no fears. Just certainty.

"Are you ready?" said the voice by his side.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Good, good. Yes, is being very good to being ready. Now is right time to being ready, yes. Zathras is being ready for long time, yes. Zathras has grown tired of waiting sometimes, but Zathras is used to it. Zathras is patient. And now you are ready, yes. Good."

"What about the Enemy?"

" Is being not good. Enemy is being very strong. May get on board before we leave. That is being very not good, but have idea, yes. We get help. That is idea. We get help."

"Help? From where?"

"Past, of course. Two years ago, just as Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar entered Great Machine. There is ship there. Special ship."

"Which ship?" He was told, and then he smiled. "Ah, of course."

"Besides," Zathras added. "We have to stop them. It already happened, and if we do not, then…. time not go well. Paradox. Not good."

"No. I guess not."

* * *

"Well well. Greetings, my Minbari friend."

Shaal Lennier, Minbari poet, Ranger and long-suffering companion to Governor Londo Mollari, looked up from his meditation. He was not in a good mood. Peace had been hard to find. Of course, ever since Kazomi 7 it had been hard for him to achieve the necessary spiritual equilibrium, but in a darkened cell, filled with the soft cries of the dying, it was harder still.

And the voices were louder than usual. Something was happening. Something that the…. others regarded as being very important. It was possible that that related to Centauri Prime in some way, but he did not think so.

The instructions being relayed to him were becoming harder to ignore, but Zicree had been true to her word. He could control it, with enough effort and enough meditation. He was beginning to wonder if the price of that control was truly worth it.

And then the door had opened. A dull lantern shone in the room, hurting his eyes. A figure stood there, just beside the now-closed door. He did not know who this figure was, save that he was definitely Centauri, and his hair was very short. Lennier thought that indicated he was not a noble, but he seemed just too self-confident to be otherwise.

"Well," he continued. "Nothing to say? I know you've been alone in this cell for a bit too long, while all the attention has been on dear Londo, but I didn't think we should neglect you altogether." A pause. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Firmly: "No."

"Not at all?"

"I have nothing to say."

"Oh, I doubt that. I doubt that very much. I think you have a great deal to say. Do your friends know about your…. ah…?" He stepped forward and gently tapped Lennier's shoulder. There was a brief surge of pain, and a hissing sound only he heard.

Lennier made no move to attack this person. There was really no point.

"I don't think they do, somehow. Although I am puzzled by just how you've managed to keep it under control this long. Some sort of Minbari meditation, perhaps. Hmm…. you'll have to teach me that."

"Are you…?" He swallowed. "Are you working for them?"

"I'm working for me, I think you'll find. Not the…. ah…. what's your name for them? The Shadows, that's it. Such a wonderful name. I've always liked the way Minbari describe things. Anyway, I'm…. fulfilling my own destiny, but it happens to be on a similar path to theirs at the moment. They do have someone here, you know. So do their opposition for that matter. I don't know who, and I really don't care. I'm just trying to clean up the mess."

He paused, and seemed to be replaying that last line.

"Oh, sorry. I meant to say that I'm just trying to clean up from the mess."

"What do you want?" Lennier asked.

"Ah. I think I'll leave that one for another day."

"Who are you?"

"Both questions at once. And neither of them holds any power over me. I know exactly who I am, and what I want, and I'm in a very good position to get it at last. And you're going to help me, my bald friend."

"I very much doubt that."

"Ah…. but Shaal Lennier, you do not know what I want."

There was a knock at the door, and the Centauri muttered various unpleasant-sounding things under his breath. Lennier was very glad he couldn't translate them. "Yes?"

"Your Highness, you are called to the Court. Immediately." The voice that came through the thick door was filled with respect, and a not-inconsiderable dose of fear.

"Who dares?"

"The Lady Elrisia, your Highness."

"Elrisia? Oh well, that's different then. I'd better go. Open the door." The door was pushed open and the Centauri stepped into the rectangle of light. He turned and looked at Lennier. "I'm sorry this talk was cut short, but I have a feeling we'll see each other again.

"Guard?"

"Yes, your Highness?"

"You will tell no one that I was in this cell. In fact, I was not in this cell, and I was not talking to this prisoner."

"I won't breathe a word, your Highness."

"No. You won't." There was a brief glint of metal, a swift motion, and a bloodied gurgling, followed by the sound of a body falling. "The Minbari had a weapon, so he did. And the guards didn't search him properly. You really can't get the staff these days, can you?"

He tossed the bloodied knife into the cell and closed the door, not fully, but so that it was slightly ajar. "I'll hide the body. Wait…. ooh, half an hour or so, and then make your way out. You can go and free Londo if you like. He's two floors down, in cell thirteen I believe. The guards will be on duty there, but a resourceful person like you will be able to think of something, I'm sure.

"Oh," he said as an afterthought, over the sound of a body being dragged away. "If you do see Londo, tell him his old friend Cartagia would like a word. Whenever he has a free moment, of course."

* * *

They did not know where she was. That was good. She did not know where she was. That was bad. But then Susan Ivanova had known very little in the months since she had been changed for a purpose that had been denied her. Now that she was awake for the first time since Laurel had died, she could sense things she had never before known existed.

Whatever they had done to her, augmenting her telepathic powers had been included. She could sense their thoughts now. Everyone on the station, although that was not very many people at the moment. The Narns, the valiant defence force. She felt like laughing. Just what were they fighting for? What did they know? What couldthey know? She could sense their loyalty and their devotion, and it made her ill. Such emotions simply did not exist in her any more.

And she could feel him. The Minbari. Valen. They said she had to kill him. She knew why, as well. Not in words, exactly, but she could see Earth again, and she could see her brother. D o as we say,spoke the voice of her masters, and that will never have happened.

The station shook, and she almost fell. What was happening out there?

The nauseous feeling was stronger. Reeling against the wall, she began to swallow harshly. How long had it been since she had last eaten? Did she even need to eat any more?

There is no time for such things. We are here now. Trust in us and there will be nothing to fear.

"You! Halt!" cried an unfamiliar voice. She was sure she did not know the language, but somehow she understood the words.

Turning, she saw a Narn before her. He was dressed in a uniform she had seen a lot these last few days, but had only barely noticed. A golden sunburst badge indicated very clearly just whom he served, but there was something else, a strange metallic disc she did not recognise.

The Narn moved forward slowly, drawing a long sword. It was afraid of her. This…. this big, strong alien was afraid of her.

It is afraid of us. Do not worry. We are here now. Can you see us?

She could, and for one brief moment she saw her master shimmer into view just as it raised a limb and tore through the Narn's chest. A spray of dark blood came from his mouth and he fell. The sword made a very loud noise as it hit the floor.

The disc. Take it and attach it to your clothing.

For the first time she took notice of the clothes she was wearing. A casual mix of civilian and military. Wondering idly just who had chosen this for her, she bent down beside the dead Narn and removed the metal disc. She held it up and looked at it curiously. It was not an insignia, not a designation of rank. There seemed to be some machinery attached to it, but she could not work out what it was.

Attach it to your clothing.

Her master was angry this time, and she hastily did as she was ordered. The disc clipped easily on to her jacket.

Now. This is what you must do.

She listened attentively, and then made her way as she had been directed. She had not much time, and the fate of the entire human race depended on her.

* * *

"How do I look?" Lady Elrisia asked, pondering her reflection in the mirror. She knew perfectly well how she looked, but a little extra flattery made all the difference. Not that Cartagia would notice, but a lot of the other nobles would. Not all of them were like her husband, thank the Gods.

Elrisia was a creature of the Court, and she always had been. Trapped first by her father and then by her scheming, single-minded husband, she had learned a great deal about power and how to gain it. Oh, of course women could have no official power within the Court or the Centarum, but unofficially, that was another matter….

Now if only Cartagia would do as he was bid. He was enough to try the patience of a saint! She thought Refa had been bad enough, but Cartagia was almost exactly the opposite. Where Refa had been concerned only with power and glory and nothing else, Cartagia seemed…. hardly bothered about anything. He wrote poetry he would not let her see. He kept a diary no one else could read. And he talked to himself. Frequently. Loudly. In gibberish.

But insanity had never stopped anyone else becoming Emperor, had it? The thirteenth Emperor had made a small fruit tree his Minister of Defence after all, and hardly anyone had complained. But then, compared to most of the other Ministers at the time, the fruit tree was probably the most efficient of the lot. It was the only one never to try to seize power for itself.

"You look beautiful, Mistress," said her maid, bowing her head. Elrisia's mood lifted a little. Of course she looked beautiful. She knew that. As long as the Court knew it too. Appearances were important, after all. If only Cartagia would see that.

She looked at the maid, trying to remember her name. Adira something…. Oh well, it didn't matter. Truthfully, Elrisia didn't like this maid. She preferred ugly servants wherever possible, so that her beauty would shine the better, but Adira had been foisted on her. Besides, she was one of the few servants left in the Court who hadn't run away or been burned alive.

Elrisia snorted and turned back to the mirror, contemplating her reflection again. The door suddenly opened, and she sighed. A guard stepped in.

"Master Vir Cotto, from the Court, my lady," the guard said, and in came a bumbling little man Elrisia had hated for years.

"The…. um…. the…. uh…. the Court is…. uh…. ready for you…. um, my lady." Elrisia sighed. What a pathetic person. Still, he had put up with Refa for quite a while, and amongst Minbari as well. That would be enough to drive anyone insane. Elrisia more than half suspected that this…. Vir's appointment with Refa to Minbar was an offhanded insult from Mollari.

"About time," she muttered. "Has word been sent to Prince Cartagia?"

"Yes. Oh yes, Lady. He is…. um…. he is…. ah…. on his way, yes. He's on his way to the Court."

"Well. That is a pleasant surprise. I was half expecting him to be at the other side of the city or something." She suddenly noticed Adira was still beside her. "What are you still doing here? Go away." The maid curtsied and left. She flashed a nervous smile at Vir as she did so, and he made a pathetic sort of wave in response.