Текст книги "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)"
Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс
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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 38 страниц)
* * *
The temporal rift shook.
* * *
Cartagia drifted through the Court like a ghost on glass. No one seemed to notice his presence there, and he did nothing to alert them. He watched as guards fought and killed each other. He smiled slyly as he looked at the bodies of nobles he had known since birth. A true house-cleaning, all very necessary. It should have been done a long time ago, and perhaps if it had the Republic would not be in this state. That was the Court for you…. never could do anything right.
He could not see Elrisia, but he was not particularly looking for her. If she survived this it would suit his plans perfectly. If she didn't, he did not care. Malachi was the important one, but then Valo would see that as well. Should he trust Valo to do the right thing, and kill Malachi? Rely on Valo's intelligence? Hmm…. better not.
He began making for Malachi's quarters, casually stepping over the bodies as he did so. From the sound of it the fighting had drifted over to the far end of the palace. He wondered who was winning, but then realised he really didn't care. It would all be the same in a few years.
He turned the corner and came face to face with none other than Valo himself. Malachi was lying on the floor, covered with blood. He reached feebly out to Cartagia, who glanced away.
"You," Valo snapped. "Well well well."
"Lord Valo. A great pleasure. So nice to see you again, but I had heard you'd been killed."
"Aristocratic bastard. I should have…."
"Should have what? You're a fool, Valo, and you'll be dead before the century is out. So will all of us. One giant conflagration of fire…. and you've only brought it all the closer."
Valo lunged forward with his bloodstained kutari, but to Cartagia he might as well have been swimming through treacle. In one swift motion the Prince had drawn his sword, knocked aside Valo's thrust, and delicately sliced open his side.
The general fell.
"Get that wound seen to, my Lord," Cartagia advised. "It shouldn't be fatal. Malachi's…. on the other hand…. should be." He stepped aside Valo's body, careful not to spill any blood on his clothing, and approached the stricken First Minister.
"What a clumsy attempt at killing you, Malachi," he said, in an almost friendly tone of voice. "Ah well…. you can never rely on anyone to do anything important. A simple truth, but one so many people forget. You knew it, didn't you?
"Oh…. I know exactly what you've been doing…. and I can hazard a good guess as to why." Malachi's eyes widened and he tried to whisper something, but Cartagia cut him off. "All it took was a lot of information, and a little use of intelligence. I helped you. To a certain extent our plans lay in the same direction. The only difference was…. you were planning for a future, and I am working towards the absence of one.
"Smile, Malachi. The Court is in chaos. Just as you wanted…. It's such a shame there won't be anyone to rise up from the ashes, isn't it?"
"No…." the fallen noble rasped. "Cartagia…. no…." The prince raised his sword.
"Malachi!" cried a new voice, and Cartagia gave a silent curse to Gods he didn't believe in. "Cartagia."
"Londo." Mollari and his Minbari companion were coming from the other side of the corridor. "Your timing is…. as ever…. impeccable."
"It's over, Cartagia. You can't win."
"I know. I've never wanted to." Without taking his eyes from Mollari's, Cartagia took a few careful steps back. He knelt down beside Valo's body and picked up the general's fallen sword. Valo swore at him with appreciable malice. Good, the wound hadn't been that deep after all then. He had been starting to worry.
Cartagia hefted the sword. A good balance, finely made, not one of these darning needles the courtiers carried. Say what you like about him, Valo knew a good sword when he bought one. It was just a pity he couldn't use the damned thing.
Cartagia tossed the sword at Londo's feet, and raised his own in a mock salute. "You want me, Mollari. Come and get me."
He turned and darted around the corner.
Londo paused only to scoop up the sword, and then went straight to Malachi's side. The wound was deep, and it looked serious.
"Lon…. do…." gasped Malachi. "I…. I…. tried to do…. what I…. thought was…. right. I…."
"Shush. Don't speak."
"I…. must. Must…. explain…."
"You'll be able to explain later. Lennier, try and stop the bleeding. Keep his head up, and…. and…." There must be something else he could remember about first aid techniques. Timov would skin him alive if he'd forgotten. "Ah yes…. and make sure his pulse is as steady as possible. Both hearts need to be working."
"Lon…. do…."
"I'm going after Cartagia, Malachi. I'll be back soon."
"Londo," said Lennier, suddenly, looking up from his position next to Malachi. "He is a very dangerous man. He wants you to follow him."
"I know."
Londo turned and ran after Cartagia. He knew where the Prince would be going, but that didn't matter, as Cartagia had conveniently left marks…. streaks of blood on the walls and doors. L ennier was right, he does want me to follow him.
Sure enough Cartagia was standing in the throne room, surrounded by the bodies of guards, nobles and courtiers.
"You took your time, Mollari."
"I had things to do. What have you done here, Cartagia?"
"Me? I did nothing. Malachi did a lot…. and these poor foolish morons did something as well…. but me? All I've done is prepare for death."
"What do you mean?"
Cartagia smiled and lunged forward, his sword clipping the edge of Londo's hair. The Prince stepped back, smiling. "Come on, Mollari. Death is a truly wonderful thing, and she's waiting for us."
* * *
"There. Done it." Catherine looked at the piece of machinery in front her and double checked it against the description Zathras had given. "Catherine to Zathras, are you there?"
She hoped this would be enough. Her space suit was very uncomfortable, and she did not even like the colour. She had always hated blue. On top of that she was developing a nagging headache and a very uncomfortable sensation that someone, or something, was watching her.
"Yes, yes, Zathras here. Zathras not be going anywhere." There was a pause, and then the signal came back. "That is fine. Machinery is all fixed now. Return to inside. Help will be reaching us very soon."
"I hope so." She risked a look over her shoulder, and dimly, beyond the cloud-like wall that surrounded the station, she could see the faint traces of a spaceship. A shuttle was approaching. "I…. Wait a minute. Zathras…. when did you call for them?"
"Zathras did not call for help."
"Then…. Jeff didn't. Who did?"
"Ah…. not good to be thinking about that. This is…. history. Everything will come out fine."
"Oh no." A sense of pure terror came over her. "They know help is coming aboard. The…. the Shadows. They know!"
"Zathras not worry. Zathras…."
The signal cut dead, and a brilliant light filled her mind. She almost screamed.
"No," she whispered. "You can't…. you…. Jeffrey!"
"Jeffrey!"
The temporal rift shuddered, and the entire station trembled. Catherine screamed as the Vorlon's light filled her mind. She felt the magnetic clamps giving way from the side of the station. Knowing what was going to happen, and powerless to stop it, she could see once again the awesome majesty of the Vorlon that filled her soul. It was finished with her. Events had conspired to make her intended role worthless.
It needed her no longer.
She was thrown away from the station, consumed by the mist of time that engulfed her. The passage of the ages took her, and she was lost to everything.
* * *
"It's over, Captain! Hull integrity is practically nothing."
Sheridan sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. He could see Delenn. She knew he had lied to her. She knew he would not be returning.
What other option was there? He was a dying man anyway, a man cursed to doom all he knew and loved before he went. A twisted, hateful legacy. He would not let Deathwalker have her last, black laugh at humanity's expense.
Everyone has to die sometime. Better to do it as a hero, saving everything.
But his crew? His friends? What about them? David…. he had a right to live. He had so much to live for. So did all the others.
" Parmenion, this is the Babylon. You cannot survive many more hits. Get to the life pods, and we will bring you aboard. This is the…."
" Parmenionhears you," replied Sheridan. "We will be evacuating now." He looked up at David. "You heard him. Get as many of the crew as you can to the life pods, the shuttles, any remaining Starfuries…. anything."
"What about you, Captain?"
"I've…. I'll just stay here. I'll leave after the rest of the crew."
Corwin's eyes narrowed. "You've never lied to me before, Captain. This would be a really bad time to start."
"I'm not. I'll see you at Kazomi Seven. I promise. Now go!"
"You heard the Captain," he snapped to the rest of the bridge crew. "Guerra, issue a ship-wide evacuation order. Ensure the life pods and shuttles are prepared. Go!"
John Sheridan visualised the scene outside. He thought about dying….
* * *
Delenn had gone so far beyond anger that she did not know what she was feeling. Beyond fear, beyond fury, beyond revenge…. she was in a white calm, in a place where she could be completely at peace. She observed the battle with a clinical detachment, directing things as much as possible from far in the rear. She needed to survive, Taan Churok had told her. She was important, Lethke had said.
She knew all these things, and yet it still felt so wrong…. being here when people were fighting and dying. She could see the reports about the Parmenion.
"Delenn!" barked Taan Churok. "The planet…."
She looked at the instruments, and gasped.
Epsilon 3 was shaking, trembling, tearing itself apart.
"The Machine…. Valen's Name. Can we get word to anyone there?"
"Tried. Signal couldn't get through."
"What about the rift? Is it still functional?"
"Do not know."
She closed her eyes, and thought about death. She thought about life. She thought about Minbar, about Earth, about the untold millions who had died in the time since she had made her fatal mistake.
She would not let more die here. The Machine was dying. When it was finally gone, the explosion would destroy everything in the area. There was nothing more they could do to protect the past. The Shadow ships kept coming, and coming…. endless waves of black, screaming nightmares.
"Issue the order to withdraw. We have done all we can. Whichever ships are not too badly damaged should form a protective screen. I do not know if they will simply let us leave."
"We've done all we can."
"But was it enough?" she whispered, looking at him intently. "Was it enough?"
* * *
Whatever Delenn might have thought, the Shadow ships did not try to stop the fleet leaving. Those ships that were still firing on the Shadow ships were destroyed, mercilessly and efficiently, but those that fled were unharmed. The Babylonmanaged to enter hyperspace with no problems, all the crew from the Parmeniontaken aboard.
The Shadow ships bore down on the dying world, obviously intending to hasten its demise. No one seemed to know just how long the temporal rift would last after the death of the Great Machine. Better to be sure, for them.
John Sheridan stood alone on the deck of his burning, battered ship. He had given one last order, and it had been obeyed just before the remains of the engine crew had left the ship.
The doomed and dying Parmenionsoared forward, heading directly for the mass of screaming, inky darkness before it. The ships turned towards its inexorable advance. They turned, and fired.
The Machine died. Epsilon 3 died, and become a billion pieces of shattered rock, and machinery, and weapons.
John Sheridan stood quietly as the Parmeniontore into the Shadow vessels, just as the explosion of the planet tore into his ship.
His world exploded.
Chapter 8
It was over.
The Shadow ships had departed now, at least those that had survived the colossal explosion that had claimed the Great Machine and the entirety of Epsilon 3. Some of them had been consumed by it, but most had survived. They had done what they had come for, and so they left.
Most of the other ships had managed to escape also, although a terrible toll had been exacted on those who had failed. A huge mass of metal, rock, the cries of the dead…. They all hung together, a testament to the futility of their deaths.
Alone in the middle of the desolation, the temporal rift was still shining. It was shaking and trembling, but it was still open. A lifeline to the past, a prayer for the future.
Somewhere within that rift lay the reason for all the bloodshed. No one knew how long it would remain open, or whether there would be enough time for those inside it to reach their destination.
And somewhere, out amidst the devastation of the battlefield, there lay the body of one Captain John Sheridan.
* * *
It was two years in the past, and he was younger then. He was still alive as well, uninfected by the terminal virus implanted by Deathwalker, his wife still alive, still a champion of his people, a hero.
John Sheridan knew nothing of his destiny as he walked slowly across the docking bays of the station he knew had never been built. He was troubled and concerned, and still only gradually warming to the presence of the woman at his side: Delenn, still Satai of the Minbari, still fully Minbari, she had not yet gone through her ordeal caught between races, or the horrors of the Drakh occupation of Kazomi 7, or the sight of her beloved Minbar in ruins.
They were expected, and both parties were secretly waiting and watching. Susan Ivanova, accompanied by invisible mentors who whispered to her in her mind. She knew what she had to do, but she also knew who was to blame. Sheridan had…. betrayed her. He had killed Anna, and she had liked Anna, really truly liked her. And yet her masters were telling her that Sheridan was to be kept alive. Another was the true threat.
It was all very confusing.
And the others, Valen and Zathras and the remainder of their Narn bodyguard – they were making for the docking bays, waiting for the help they knew would arrive. Valen wanted something more than help, however. He wanted to see one person who had shown him a great deal, and helped him, ever so slightly, to accept his destiny.
John Sheridan suddenly cried out and reeled back against the wall. Delenn caught him, but he seemed to be muttering something to himself. Valen sighed, and stepped back. He knew what it was. A time flash, a temporal jump, to relive events from the past or to experience brief glimpses of the future. They had all been witnessing such phenomena when the station had been orbiting Epsilon 3. Now they had their temporal stability discs, which should protect them from such things.
Sheridan blinked and started, resting against the wall. "What happened?" Delenn asked him.
"I…. I don't know. I was reliving my wedding. It's like I was there, but it was nine years ago. I don't understand."
Valen breathed out slowly, and went forward to his destiny. Zathras walked beside him, but Ta'Lon and the other Narns remained in the shadows. There was no telling what might be waiting. "It's been happening to all of us," Valen said, walking towards them. "Flashes, forwards or back." Sheridan's eyes were narrowing, but he did not reach for a weapon. He looked…. so very different. But then, Valen had seen him only seldom two years in the future.
"Greetings, both of you. I welcome you to this place." Delenn gasped softly. Ah, she knew now. "I am called Valen."
Sheridan shook his head, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of the figure by Valen's side. "Zathras! But…. what are you doing here? You stayed on the planet with G'Kar!"
"Ah, no, Captain. Zathras is being very sorry, but Zathras last seen you many years ago, yes. Time has passed, yes. Much time. In your years…."
"Zathras!" snapped Valen. Sheridan and Delenn were not to know. They deserved some hope for the future at least.
"Ah yes, Zathras know, Zathras not supposed to talk about time. Zathras not supposed to talk about anything. Zathras supposed to shut up. Zathras is being shutting up. There. Zathras is shut up."
"I thank you both for coming," Valen repeated, ignoring his companion's tantrum. "We need your help, but first you have to understand. You have to…."
Sheridan blinked, and cried out.
There was a blur of movement, and a hissing, screaming noise. Valen started and turned. Ta'Lon burst from the shadows, his sword flashing. There was a burst of PPG fire. Valen staggered back. "They're here," he whispered. He could see Delenn directly in front of him. She was trying to grab Sheridan, who was shaking in the grip of another time flash.
"Shadows here," Zathras snapped. "We be going now. Very quickly."
Something shimmered into view just in front of them. Reaching out, Valen seized hold of Delenn's sleeve and began to run in the direction of the corridor. Zathras followed, sniping around their heels. Ta'Lon moved to help Sheridan, but the shimmering form of the emerging Shadows cut him off. There was a hint of a human moving as well.
The four of them managed to reach the corridor, Ta'Lon and his Narns trying to hold off the Shadow attack as the others gained ground. "We cannot just leave him," Delenn was saying.
"They won't kill him," he reassured her. "It's me they want – me and you. You have to understand, Delenn. There's a lot I have to show you, and not much time. You told me about this, and now I have to do what you said I did. I have to…."
She blinked, and was lost to him. She stiffened, and would have fallen if he had not caught her. Holding her as best he could, he continued to run. "Time flash," Zathras said. "This is…. not good. Very strange also. Should not be happening this often. Perhaps…. temporal rift is not working as well as it should. Zathras is not being liking the sound of that, no."
"You are not alone," Valen replied. "But we can do nothing about that now."
They stopped running at last, and waited to catch their breath. Delenn remained under the spell of the time flash, and he began to worry. This was too long. "What is happening to her?" he asked Zathras.
"Is…. difficult to tell, with truth. Rift is not acting as it should. Not that Zathras can tell for sure, though, since Zathras has never been back in time before, but…. this should not be happening."
"Maybe the battle is going badly."
"Is one possibility, yes. Is not very pleasant possibility. Is…."
Delenn stirred. "Valen's Name," she whispered. Her eyes opened and she looked around, confused.
"It was bad, wasn't it?" he asked. "I've never seen anyone down for that long."
She raised her hands to her forehead, and felt carefully around the edges of her bone crest. "Was…. was that an image of what will happen, or of what might happen?"
"We don't know," he replied. "We've all had images of the past, images that were surprisingly accurate." He remembered uncomfortably the sound of Marrain's last words to him, witnessed in a time flash just before the station entered the rift. Another failure brought home to him. "Of the future…. none of us can be certain."
"I saw…. I saw…."
"Don't tell me, Delenn," he said swiftly. "I must not know. It is not for me to know." One more hint of a future he would never see. One more unanswered question.
"You know my name," she suddenly breathed in wonder. "You…. know my name."
"Of course," he replied smiling. "And you know mine. Or you will. We brought this station from your future, to take it a thousand years into the past. I wrote myself a letter then, telling myself of what will happen." He had, a letter brought to him by Kosh when he arrived at the station. How Kosh had obtained it, he had no idea. He had read it, and was disheartened. It told him things he already knew, but it did something to assuage his doubts, even if only a little.
"I wrote you a letter as well, although I don't know whether you ever received it. I came here for your help, Delenn – yours and Sheridan's. Now I think I may have come here to help you. Do you know what you have to do?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes. I saw it…. but…. will my actions bring about what I have seen?"
"I don't know, Delenn. As I told you once, my place lies with the future no longer, but with the past. That is, of course, if we ever make it there."
"What has happened?"
"We were ready to launch this station when the Enemy attacked. It was a hard battle, but we managed to get away. I…. don't know what happened to my friends who were defending us. Some of the enemy made it aboard and have been trying to kill me. If they do, then the past will be doomed, and so will all of us. I came here hoping to gain your help, but the enemy have proven to be too strong for us."
"Then it was you who sent the message?"
He blinked, and prepared to tell just another lie, one of the few he hoped he would ever have to tell her. He was beginning to realise why he had been brought to this time. He was practically becoming a Vorlon, and he hated it. "What message? No, we were unable to get into the main control centre."
They had to see, both of them. Sheridan and Delenn had to see what lay before them, where their destinies led. Delenn had to be prepared for her exile, hence the use of her title Zha'valen. Both of them had a hard road ahead, and they had to be prepared for it.
"We received a message asking for myself and Captain Sheridan to come over here, and to come alone. It must have been a trap…. They have him!"
"Delenn, Sheridan is a…. clever man. I am sure he…."
"No. I know it. They have him. The Enemy has him!"
And they did. Valen knew that for a fact. He wished he did not have to lie to them, he wished he could share something of what he knew to be coming for them, he wished…. he wished so much….
* * *
There was the clash of metal against metal, the strain of muscles, the beating of hearts…. Londo staggered back, wiping at his eyes in desperation. Who would have thought he had become so old? The time had been when he could fight all day and carouse all night.
Cartagia smiled. "Growing old, Mollari? And you thought to rule. How can you rule our Republic when you cannot even stand for a few minutes?"
He was right. May all the Gods damn him, but he was right. Cartagia was a far younger man, whose days of wine, women and song had yet to catch up with him. He was fitter, stronger, and possessed of a remarkable inner fortitude. He also had been eating well these last few days, and had not spent them chained to a dank cell well.
Cartagia drifted forward, his kutari flickering in his hand like a living thing. It sliced through the already-torn sleeve of Londo's jacket and drew a red line across his forearm. Spinning on his heel, the Prince delivered an elbow jab to Londo's jaw, and he fell. Again.
"Get up, Mollari. I'm not finished with you yet. Or has Elrisia been sapping too much of your strength?"
"I've only seen her once since I got back to the capital," he panted, staggering up. Keep him talking, find some way to gather time, to breathe.
"Ah yes. When she took you to see our madman chained in the cellar. Did you enjoy the vision he showed you, hmm? The death of our world. The death of all worlds, perhaps. Who can say?"
"What? You've…. seen it, too. Then…. why have you…." Londo was trying to breathe, but it was becoming more and more difficult. "Why…?"
"Because, my dear Mollari. The ultimate answer to everything. Because." He stepped forward. "Are you ready to resume yet? I can wait a bit longer if you'd prefer."
"There he is!" cried a new voice, and Londo struggled to lift his head. Two soldiers had burst into the room. He could not be sure whether they were loyalist guardsmen or part of Valo's attack force. The fighting had apparently drifted away from this area of the palace building.
"Return to your posts," Cartagia said, bored.
"Not likely," one of them snarled. He raised a small hand-held energy pistol, a weapon usually carried by bodyguards to the nobles in addition to their fanciful rapiers.
Cartagia smiled and raised his arm. There was a blur of movement as he threw his sword at the guard. Crimson blood seemed to rain from the soldier's throat as the sword pinned him against the wall. His companion was slow to react, and by the time he managed to do anything Cartagia had drawn his own energy pistol and shot him squarely in the head.
"How tiresome," he muttered, drifting over to the body of the first soldier and pulling his kutari free. "You'd think Valo would have sent more than two, wouldn't you? Oh, but then again, maybe not. I've cultivated somewhat of an air of…. ah…. weakness, these last few months. What better way to hide your true intentions, hmm, Mollari?"
His back was still to Londo. There was a chance now. One brief chance. Londo started forward, running as fast as he could, raising his own sword in front of him.
Cartagia spun, kicking out in one fluid motion, striking Londo in the belly. Crying out, Londo fell back helpless as Cartagia delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of his head that sent him sprawling.
"That was hardly sportsmanlike, Mollari. Maybe you have learned something on your travels after all. Good. You might make a fine Emperor yet, albeit not for very long."
"What…. do…. you…. mean?" he whispered, trying to stay conscious. His hearts were pounding.
"Oh, look around you, Mollari. You're going to win this. Everyone knows that, because all the morons out there have been too busy scrambling around trying to deal with each other. Their ambitions are not high enough, you see. Only you, I and Elrisia actually realised the true prize…. and once I'm gone, Elrisia will never get anywhere. She's the most hated woman in the Republic."
Londo felt sick, but he tried to stagger to his feet. His sword was so heavy.
"No…. you were always going to win. It was just a matter of time. I saw that a long while ago. I was the only one who could have beaten you to the throne, and there was a time when I thought I'd want to do that, but…. no…. Not any more."
"Why…. not?"
"Ah. You know your problem, Mollari? You're an optimist, an idealist, a romantic even. I, on the other hand…. I see the truth. We're a dying people, a doomed people. We can't keep control of our outer colonies, the Narns are banging at our door, we've lost almost all our allies, our leaders are too busy fighting amongst themselves, there will be a rebellion from the peasants any time now…. and now these Shadow Criers and their future of holocaust.
"The Republic will be finished before the century's over, Mollari. I know that, and so do you. Who wants to be known as the Emperor who guided us into oblivion? Not me. No…. far better to be known another way, don't you think? I'll be the man who fought you for the throne, and damned near won…. and every day from now until the end, people will wonder…. what if I'd won? How different would things have been if I'd been made Emperor instead of you? We'd both know there would be nothing I could have done to prevent this end, no more than you…. but they won't know that, and each and every one of those sheep we rule will wonder…. what if?
"And that, my dear Mollari…. is the greatest form of immortality any man can ask for."
"Won't…. be like…. that…."
"That idealism again. You're blind, Mollari! And a fool. I suppose it's just as well for me that you are. If you weren't, then you'd be in my place now. And that would be very unpleasant for me. Come on, Mollari…. pick up your sword."
"Damn…. you…. Cartagia."
"Damned? Oh no. I'll be canonised. You, my friend, will be the one to be damned."
Londo took a halting step forward. He could hardly keep his grip on the hilt.
"I'm most disappointed in you, Mollari. Your good friend Dugari was on his feet after more than this. But then, Elrisia was never as refined at pain as I."
"Du…. gari…."
"Keep your blade up, Mollari."
There was a flurry of movement, and Cartagia charged. He made no effort to strike Londo. He did not need to. Instinctively Londo's sword rose up, and Cartagia literally ran onto it. He fell backwards, his own sword falling.
"Proud…. of you…. Emperor…. Mollari," he whispered, blood trickling from between his lips. "My…. congrat…. ulations."
With a sigh and a smile, he closed his eyes.
* * *
Memories were slowly awakening within her. Thoughts and emotions trapped for months, even years. Ever since her confrontation with Marcus and Lyta at the Battle of the Second Line she had been locked within her own mind, a prisoner of forces beyond her control.
But then, hadn't that always been the case? Psi Corps, her mother's memory, her brother's useless death, her father's futile act of rebellion, choosing to stay on Earth even though he knew the danger. Susan Ivanova had always been trapped and bound by forces outwith her control.
For a moment she thought of Laurel. She had…. died, hadn't she? Yes…. she was dead. She'd been a prisoner as well, although she had never realised it until her death.
The Shadows hissed at her angrily. She was their prisoner now, but at least they…. seemed to…. care. What they wanted here…. they wanted it for their own ends, but she would benefit as well. All of humanity would. They had explained it to her. She had to know, they reasoned. And now she did, and he had to know too.
A new humanity, a new destiny. So much would not have happened. Anna would still be alive, and Laurel, and her brother, and…. and Marcus.
And it all came down to one man. Kill him, kill the traitor to humanity…. and it would all be over. So simple.
But for one tiny detail.
"I know," she whispered to her eternal guardians. "There's a Vorlon. It's coming here."
Sheridan stirred. He seemed to be stabilising in time. He had been under a lot of strain recently. Too much. Her guardians seemed to be content. Maybe they were winning the battle, and none of this was necessary?
"Wake up, John," she said, trying to put some warmth into her voice. She failed, but then the thought of Satai Delenn angered her. She…. remembered what Delenn had become. A mockery of everything her brother had died for. "Your Minbari whore's coming for you, and him as well. He's coming too."
