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

The Vorlon moved to the docking bays. Helplessly, still burdened by the weights of destiny and duty, Valen followed. Delenn and Zathras were just behind. Kosh turned to Delenn, and spoke just one word.

All around them, the Shadows began to appear. Ivanova was in the middle of them, as was Sheridan.

Kosh was still, and then…. his encounter suit began to open.

* * *

The others there would no doubt see it in different ways. Delenn would witness a confirmation of futures past and present, and a reaffirmation of the path she was to take. Susan Ivanova would see the sorrows of her life, and all those waiting for her at her death, and she would be drawn closer to her redemption. Zathras saw…. who could tell?

But as Kosh purged his essence, channelling his life energy, sacrificing his life for the good of the past and the future, it was the man called Jeffrey Sinclair, the Minbari called Valen, who saw most, and understood most.

I am Valen.

I am Valen!

I AM VALEN!

I am Jeffrey Sinclair.

I am Jeffrey Sinclair!

I AM JEFFREY SINCLAIR!

Catherine…. I will find you. Wherever you are, whatever you become, I will find you.

The mistakes of the past opened up to him. Marrain's hubris, the Tak'cha's misinterpretations, Parlonn's tragedy. But he knew them now for what they were. He would build a future, a great destiny. He would save a people from destruction. Those mistakes…. they were not fatal, they were stepping stones on the way to that future.

Marrain's fate would lead to his redemption a thousand years later. Parlonn would learn a terrible truth and save his soul. The Tak'cha would gain a focus and a duty through his words.

Good and evil. Right and wrong. Both were a part of him. There had to be a balance. Always a balance.

Human and Minbari. A balance.

The light faded. The Shadows were gone.

He was standing still, tears streaming down his face.

The arrow that springs from the bow. At long last, he was ready.

* * *

She ran, terrified, everything awake in her mind. Her mother, her brother, her father, her first love…. She could see them all. All dead. Each and every one of them dead. She had to do something. She had to do something.

The Vorlon…. his light…. it was taking her to pieces….

She stumbled and almost fell, but managed to right herself. She had lost her weapon. She felt she had lost her mind. There was…. pain…. in some part of her, a part she could not quite identify.

I have to get away from here!

The Vorlon was everywhere. It was this station, it surrounded this station. It was…. everywhere.

She had to get away.

And Susan Ivanova ran, making for the docking bays. Perhaps she could reach a shuttle, or even go for a space walk. She had to get away from here. She had to get away from the Vorlon.

"Where is she?" Delenn asked, looking up from Sheridan. He was groaning and wincing. "Where…. has she gone?"

"She will not be allowed to escape," Valen said. "No, Delenn…. she…. she has something else to learn first. This was a journey of discovery for all of us. For her most of all."

"So…. you're just going to let her get away?" protested Sheridan. "I don't…. aaagh! I don't…. understand."

"She has to learn something. One day…. you will all need her, and when that day comes, what she learns today will save both her, and you." Valen looked at both of them. Sheridan and Delenn. He could see what lay ahead of them now, one last gift from Kosh. Prophecy, or foresight, or footsteps…. He could see the chains that bound them all together.

Sheridan to Delenn to Neroon to Ta'Lon to G'Kar to Zathras to Valen to Delenn to Sheridan to Corwin to Ivanova…. A thin, fragile series of connections that would preserve and guide the future.

"What about the rift?" Delenn asked. "It was…. degrading. Do we have time?"

"Yes," said Zathras sadly. "Yes…. we have time. All the time we need. Time…. is infinite."

* * *

The streets were dark as Elrisia claimed her hiding place. It took her a moment to catch her breath, but at least she was warm in here. It was too cold outside, and her courtly clothes provided little protection.

The humiliation of it! A Lady of her rank forced to hide in a hovel like some worthless peasant! Damn Cartagia, and damn Mollari. She had heard the cries of his acclamation as she fled, and that must mean Cartagia had been killed. The only satisfaction she had was the news of Valo's capture. At least that was one pretender removed from contention.

This was not over yet, not by a long way. She had allies still, most of them away from the Court now it was true, but it would not be hard to regain a position of power. The military perhaps. Valo must have had some admirers from whom she could elicit support. Truth was variable after all. Spreading dissension against the new Emperor Mollari would not be difficult.

Yes, she would have her time.

And when she was ruling once more, she would punish everyone who had brought her here…. to this wet, cold, stinking hovel of a warehouse. It was one of the few places she could hide, admittedly. Oh well, tomorrow she would be able to leave the capital and get to her estates out in the country. From there….

There was the sound of movement behind her, and she sat up. "Who is there?" she asked. There was silence. "Answer me! I am a Lady of the Court!" There was no risk in announcing her identity. Hardly any of the nobles or courtiers would be here, and she assuredly had nothing to fear from any grubby peasant or petty merchant.

"Answer me! I order you."

A torch was lit, and a figure came dimly into view. There were more behind him. He was walking slowly towards her, holding his torch aloft. Others were lit.

"Who are you?" she whispered, scrabbling back against the far wall. "I am a Lady of the Court. You will all be whipped for this. I order you to…."

The leading man spoke, his voice disgustingly low class. "The Darkness is coming," he whispered, and raised his torch high enough so that she could see his eyes. They were gleaming with a powerful madness.

He then threw the torch at her feet. Screaming, she tried to roll away from it, but by the time she had reached a standing position, her dress was already on fire.

"I'm a Lady of the Court," she cried. "I'm a…." She screamed as the flames began to lick at her hair.

"The Darkness is coming," said the leading Shadow Crier.

"The Darkness is coming," echoed the others obediently.

Elrisia was still screaming.

* * *

She knew where she had to go, where there was one person who could help her. She had passed up on his love once before, but it was different now. It was the past now. He was different.

She could still change things. Not for humanity perhaps, but for her. She could…. be…. happy….

The rift was tearing her apart, but the space suit would protect her. They had been modified slightly to provide protection against the rift. She knew that. The voice that had once spoken to her had said that machinery had been added for protection when last-minute work had been needed on the station before entering the rift. It would protect her as well.

And as the winds of time buffeted her this way and that way, as she screamed in pain both physical and remembered, Susan Ivanova made her way slowly to the Babylon.

"I don't like this mission," David was saying. "It sounds…. dangerous."

"Don't try to protect me," she replied, a little more harshly than she had intended. "I know what I'm doing. I…. I have to get away from Proxima for a while, that's all, and besides…. this is important. You know that. We need all the advantages we can get in this war, and there might just be some out on the Rim."

"That's not it, Susan." God, he looked so young. He was, really, but still…. So many years ago. Before she had left for the Rim. In a very real sense she had never returned from it. "You're running from something. What is it? Why won't you tell me?"

"You're imagining things." A lie. It had been a lie then, and he had known it. She had accidentally run into a Psi Cop a few days before volunteering for the mission. The teep – Donne, her name had been – had looked at her slowly and curiously, before walking on. Had she suspected anything? They were getting closer to her now. Soon, they would find out.

"It's an important mission, and I have to do this. David, I don't try to dissuade you from risking your life next to Captain Sheridan all the time, do I?"

"Susan, that's…. that's different, and you know it."

"No, it isn't. I've got to go. I'll see you…. when I get back, David. It'll only be a couple of months."

And then she had left, and never returned.

Until now.

Her eyes opened, and she could see him again. She was feeling…. so weak, but…. ready. There he was. David. A good few years older than in her vision from the past, but…. still young, still innocent. She almost sobbed.

There were others beside him, and one of them barked something. She couldn't understand the words, and she tried to move forward. They were all drawing weapons. She recognised one of them. Not his name, but he had…. done something…. He had helped her, helped them, once…. He had let her try to kill Delenn.

No. Prevent that betrayal, do something to change the present, perhaps save them all.

She moved, and tried to touch them. There was a brilliant flare of light before her eyes, and she screamed. The other man had fallen, but everything inside her was churning. She felt sick. She tried to reach David. He was so close to her now…. almost…. there….

With a soft wrench, she was pulled back into the timestream.

"Why are you doing this?" someone was asking her. "Why are you…?"

"I must have been dropped on my head when I was a baby," she replied, with trademark cynicism. "I don't need a reason."

"I will not forget this."

"I doubt you'll live long enough to."

With a shock, she realised she was holding a weapon. She raised it up. A darkness fell over them both, and something in the other person's eyes glinted, and Susan realised at last who it was.

The timestream threw her out again, her head reeling. She was in the same place she had been in before, the docking bay of the Babylon. David was there again, but alone. It was the same time as before.

He began to speak, and unlike the last time, she could understand his words. "It's you, isn't it?" he said. "I thought it was before, but now…. it is you."

She tried to move forward, to reach him, to touch him, but she could not, and she fell. He rushed to her side, but then stopped suddenly. "You need my help," he said, not a question, but a statement. He knew her better than she knew herself these days.

She nodded weakly.

"So then, what can I do for you?" Slowly, desperately, knowing that it might be a mistake but willing to chance it anyway, she removed her helmet, so much wanting to see him directly instead of through a visor.

"I…." She tried to think of what to say, but the words would not come out. So much had not happened yet, there was so much she had not yet done that she would regret. Marcus was…. still alive.

"I'm sorry, David," she whispered, tears running down her face. "When I…. left you, we argued. I'm sorry for what I said."

"Ah…. that's all right," he said, bemused. "Susan, you look…. different. This has to do with Babylon Four, doesn't it? What's happening?"

"It's…. I can't explain. Think of me as…. as…." A brief memory of Marcus came to her mind, a book he had been reading while he was assigned to look after her – or to spy on her, depending on your point of view. But David was hardly a greedy miser, and she was no spirit, benevolent or otherwise, and she could not change him. What had been…. was, and she could not alter it.

"I'm a ghost," she said, trying to beat back tears. "I'm just a ghost passing through. Forget I was ever here."

"I'll never forget you, Susan," he said, and he was so sincere, so genuine….

She blinked away her tears, and knew what she had to do. He had shown her the way, although he would probably never know how. To be truthful, she probably never would either. "I need to get back to Babylon Four," she said. "There's…. something I have to do."

"Can I help?"

She shook her head sadly. "You already have. More than you can know."

He nodded. "I'll…. always be around to help you, no matter what's been going on lately. I have hope for the future, Susan. Everything will turn out for the best, I'm sure of that."

"Keep believing that…. and maybe…. may…. be…."

She fell silent, and did not speak again until she arrived back on Babylon 4, almost exactly at the spot where she had ambushed and captured Sheridan. The Narn was waiting there for her, as were Valen and Zathras.

"I surrender," she said quietly. "I'm turning myself over to you."

"Told you," said Zathras happily. "Zathras knows best. Oh yes. People should listen to Zathras more. Zathras knows what Zathras is saying."

* * *

A ruined ship was floating aimlessly, just one pile of debris among so many, just one more mark of the lost and the damned in this battle. In the remains of what had once been the bridge of the EAS Parmenionthere was a body, the body of one who had once been the greatest hope of his people.

Captain John Sheridan was trapped between life and death. He was not breathing.

There was a sudden and brilliant flare of light, the very last act of a dying angel.

And then there was silence once more.

* * *

"He is not dead," she said softly. "I can feel it. I know. He is not dead."

Commander David Corwin nodded once, briefly. He wanted to believe her, even if he was not sure he could. No one could have survived that, could they? If anyone could, it would be the Captain.

"He…. is not dead."

Delenn was not crying.

"We will find him."

Corwin nodded again. "Yes," he said. "Yes, we'll find him."

* * *

He stood alone, as he always would from now on. Everything that had once been a part of him was gone. Jeffrey Sinclair was gone. His future was gone. From now until his death, he would always be Valen.

They had arrived in the past safely, and had found two Vorlon cruisers waiting for them. The Vorlons had come aboard, and formally introduced themselves to him. He knew one of them. It was Kosh, whose life essence was now finally fading with the temporal rift. But that was a thousand years in the future.

I will not be your puppet,he thought to himself as he looked at his new companions. B ut I will do what is ordained. I will end this war, and build peace here. It might not last forever, but a thousand years might just about be enough.

What had happened at Epsilon 3? Who had survived? What would become of Kazomi 7 with its ray of hope, and of Delenn, and Sheridan, and poor, doomed Primarch Sinoval?

He would never know.

After their arrival Zathras had spent a lot of time messing around with the ion engines. The first meeting with the Minbari was a fair distance away in normal space. It had taken the station some hours to get to the required area, and Zathras spent the whole journey tutting, clicking and muttering to himself.

And now he was waiting. The first Minbari ship had chanced upon the station, and its occupants were coming aboard. Two warrior caste of course, leaders of different clans, warring clans that he would eventually unite. The greatest, proudest, strongest warriors of this age.

And he would destroy them both.

Both of them came into view, looking bemused, and more than a touch angry. Each was only barely tolerating the other's presence. He could see them clearly now, just as he could see them later. Their fight back to back on the blood-stained sands of Iwojim, ending with the two mortal enemies clasping hands astride an ocean of the dead.

Enemies now, soon to be friends, and later, to be traitors.

But their deaths would not be in vain, neither of them. He could see that now. It was all part of a vast tapestry, a multitude of threads that led back to the present, and the future, and beyond….

Parlonn's betrayal to the Shadows, brought about by rational reasoning and an acceptance of their cause, was necessary to convince Marrain to ally with them, an alliance wrought out of jealousy and envy. And that was necessary for one man who would arise a thousand years in the future, and begin a destiny that would affect the next thousand years.

Threads within webs, creating an infinite tapestry, of which he was only the smallest of parts.

"I welcome you," he said, and they started. Marrain raised his hand to his weapon. "And present this place to you as a gift."

They stood still, looking at the Gods of beauty at his side, each realising that something very special had just happened. They could feel the course of history turning beneath their feet. Neither had any idea of where it would take them, or that the salvation of their people would mean the damnation of their souls.

"I am called Valen," he said, "and we have much work ahead of us."