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

Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 38 страниц)

Susan Ivanova remained imprisoned. Medical reports and a study by Vejar confirmed that the Keeper she had been given had been completely removed from her system. Who, or what she was now…. was unknown.

It was on a day slightly over two months after the battle that Lethke received an interesting and unexpected message. He promised to consult with the remainder of the Government and reply later. He then instantly went to see Delenn.

"It is a lie," she said. She had been with John, and her eyes were haunted. He had lapsed briefly into delirium during her visit. It had been for less than a minute, but it was a troubling development all the same.

"They mean nothing but to sow dissent and suspicion, Lethke."

"So I thought, but what if they do speak the truth? Can we afford to pass over such an offer?"

Delenn shook her head. "'There can be no peace with the Shadow'," she quoted. "They are lying."

"But he does not speak just for the Shadows," he countered. "He speaks for humanity as well. Can there be peace with them?"

She hesitated, lost momentarily in a world fifteen years gone. "Perhaps…. but humanity is…. they are too closely linked with the Shadows now. There cannot be peace, Lethke. I wish it were not so, but…." She bowed her head sadly.

"He says he will come only to speak of peace. He is a true diplomat, Delenn. I have known many, and I can see it in his eyes. His words…. they are genuine. Delenn…. dare we turn away this chance? I do not want to spend the rest of my life devoted to war. I want to build this Alliance so that it protects and shelters the entire galaxy, and we cannot do that if we are constantly worrying about battles and fighting. We…. prefer not to fight, we Brakiri. I have always thought it is a far more pleasant option to choose."

She sighed, and thought again of that moment fifteen years ago. She had been too ready to embrace war once before, and it had cost her dearly. Could she refuse this option now? Even if it were only the merest possibility….

"We will bring the matter to the Council," she said at last. "If you all say yes…. then I will assent."

Lethke smiled and bowed, but then he looked worried. "There is one other thing, Delenn. The diplomat who contacted me…. he was human. The Shadows do most of their dealing through intermediaries of other races…. so I was not surprised. But…. he gave his name as Sheridan."

She paused. "Sh…. Sheridan? No, it cannot be," she said finally. "All of John's family are dead. It is a…. coincidence, and nothing more. Still, it would be best, I think, if John were not told of this."

"As you say, Delenn. When shall we convene the Council?"

She paused, and thought for one brief moment about the man she loved. "As soon as possible," she said finally. "As…. soon as possible."

They all agreed, and Lethke sent back the reply in the affirmative. Ambassador David Sheridan received it, and nodded. Everyone did what they had to do, what was necessary, and however much he disliked the thought of going to Kazomi 7, he knew that he had to do it.

But he had one important person to see first.

* * *

Londo was tired, and he had a headache, and he wanted very much to have a steaming cup of brivare and go to bed.

But he was the Emperor, and contrary to what he had believed as a child, the Emperor did not get to do whatever he wanted. He had his duties to the Republic, and if those duties meant he had to stay up all night with Marrago and Durano, then so be it.

In the preceding two months the situation had improved slightly, although not as much as he might have hoped.

The Centarum had been reconvened, and its first actions had been the passing of motions recognising Londo as Emperor and accepting his story as the official history of events. The second motion had passed substantially, as almost all of those who knew the truth about Valo's attack on the Court were either dead or firmly allied to the new regime.

The first motion however was more difficult. Many remembered that Londo had been accused of murdering Emperor Refa, and that he had raised rebellion against his own Government. Denials of the first had been expected, if not entirely believed, and the same had been the case with explanations for the second. Nevertheless, the placing of the blame for everything that had ever gone wrong in the Republic since the dawn of creation entirely at the door of the Shadow Criers…. that had been generally accepted.

In any case, Marrago and Durano had separately exerted considerable pressure on the dissenters, and the first motion had been passed. Londo's inauguration as Emperor had been a pitiful thing by previous standards, but in respect of the lying speeches, futile thanks and insincere hopes for the future, few things ever changed.

That, however, was only the beginning. The homeworld was now fairly secure, but the Republic itself was very shaky.

"We have lost all contact with Beta Centauri Two," Marrago reported. "The communications satellite might be down, but I fear it is more likely either that the Narns have taken the colony, or that there is another rebellion there, as there was at Gorash."

"A rebellion is possible, but unlikely," acknowledged Durano. "My sources there informed me that there was considerable ill-feeling towards the Court here, but that matters were improving. The lowering of taxes, the replacement of the planetary Governor, and the improved weather conditions and harvesting mean that the economy there is recovering strongly. Any uprising would have been more likely to occur two or three months ago."

"The Narns then," muttered Londo. "Again. They are seeking to destabilise our economy, aren't they?"

"It seems likely," admitted Marrago. "A very different strategy for them. I am not sure if they are receiving outside assistance or if Warleader G'Sten is simply having flashes of genius."

"I fear we will need to begin peace talks soon, but will they accept anything other than unconditional surrender? G'Kar might be able to help, but he is sorely pressed by other concerns. I fear an Ambassador to Kazomi Seven is more essential now than it has ever been."

"We have spoken about this, Londo," said Marrago. "We need to be strong and secure as a Republic first. If we go on bended knee to this…. G'Kar, then we risk exposing our vulnerabilities. The Narns may be more reckless than they have been, but to some extent there are still elements of caution in their strategy. That caution is buying us time. If we reveal our weakness…. then they may launch a direct attack on the homeworld, and we would be defeated easily."

"G'Kar…. is not like that."

"I accept that, Londo, but can you speak for all the Narns he commands? What about the other aliens on Kazomi Seven? Can we trust the Minbari…. or the humans? No, I say again that we need to be as strong as we can be. Then we will go to the Narns as equals, not defeated and on our knees."

"Yes," Londo muttered. "Good advice, again. Ah, Gods…. I am tired. Sooner or later, Marrago, we will have to go there, and I would rather it be sooner. That is it…. if I stay here any longer I will fall asleep. Do you have anything else to report?"

"No," said Marrago. "Nothing else."

"Durano?"

The Minister for Intelligence had been silent throughout the exchange between Emperor and Lord-General. His gaze had been firmly fixed on Marrago, but he now slid it away smoothly. "No, Majesty," he said. "The Shadow Criers have been very quiet of late. Perhaps whatever madness has gripped them has simply…. died down."

"Or maybe they are all dead. Burning yourself alive in the middle of the street is unlikely to bring in many new converts. In any case, they are a problem for another time. I am to bed. Gentlemen." He rose, as did both of them. They bowed as he left, and then stalked from the room through opposite exits, not exchanging a single word.

The silent Minbari who had stood alone in the shadows in the corner of the room waited until they had gone, and then followed Londo.

The Emperor passed six separate groups of Palace Guards on the two-minute walk from his personal study to his bedroom, a fact he found most distressing. When he arrived at his bedroom he closed the door firmly and found Timov already in bed, pretending to sleep.

"I know you are awake," he said, undressing and changing into his night attire.

"You know me too well," she said acidly. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I am sorry I was out too late, Mother," he said, in smiling sarcasm. "I will try to be home for supper tomorrow."

She sat up. "That is not funny, Londo. You are up working until past midnight every night, and up again at the stroke of dawn every morning. You cannot keep up this pace. Leave it for younger men."

"There is…. too much to do," he said, sighing. "Too much…." He finished changing and walked over to the bed. "May I come and join you, lady Empress?" he asked, smiling. "Or are you still angry with me?"

"Idiot," she whispered. "I don't know. My husband will return soon, and I do not know what he will say when he sees me in bed with the Emperor."

"I am sure he loves you too much to remain angry with you for very long," he said, climbing into bed.

"I wonder if I love him that much," she replied. "Good night, Londo."

"Good night, dear."

Sleep was a long time coming. It always was these days.

* * *

He was sleeping. At least, his eyes were closed, so she hoped he was sleeping. The lights in the room were down as low as they could be: it was almost too dark for her to see him, and the most Delenn of Mir could make out of John Sheridan was a vague outline, marked by the slow, regular movements of the machinery that sustained his paralysed body.

The Ambassador from the Shadows would be arriving soon, within a few days at most. A thought had struck her not long after she had been told of his request to visit.

A cure. The Shadows had a cure for John.

She had contacted Sinoval again, in desperation. He had received her message, and he had replied in no uncertain terms that he had studied Deathwalker's files all he could, but he had found no trace of her cure. The Shadows had it, but that was all he knew. He then ended the conversation, pointing out that he had his own responsibilities to his own people.

Was it worth it? Would it truly be worth asking the Shadows for their cure? She had thought not. She and John had spoken of it once, and he had said he would not enslave himself to them for any cure. She had agreed, but that had been long ago, before the battle.

What if there could be peace? Was the Ambassador genuine? Could she…. ask…. him…?

She sighed, and tried to clear her head. The virus was not yet contagious, at least not according to the physicians here. They had managed to trace its progress to some extent and had constructed a hypothesis as to its effects, but they were a long, long way from a cure. All they could say for certain was that John would have to be placed in strict quarantine within two weeks at most.

And not long after that, he would be dead.

He moaned slightly, and she thought she could see his eyes flicker open. They looked…. so bloodshot.

"Delenn," he whispered. "Are…. are you there?"

"Yes," she replied softly. "Yes, I'm here." She was holding his hand, but she knew he could not feel it. "How…. how are you?"

"I was dreaming. I…. don't remember what about. It…. wasn't…. a nice…. dream though."

"You should sleep," she whispered.

"Sleep? Why? It's not as if I'm exerting myself here. I'm kept alive by machines, and…. medicines and I'm just waiting to die."

"John, you shouldn't…. talk like this."

"Why not?" He sounded angry. "Why not, Delenn? Why are you…. still here? What…. use is there tying yourself to a…. dead man."

"I am here because I love you," she said softly. "I will never leave you, John. Never."

"I…. I know. I'm sorry. I just…. are you holding my hand?"

"Yes."

"How is…. David? I haven't seen him…. in…. a while."

She hesitated, trying to think of what to say. Commander Corwin had been to see him only that morning. "He's…. on a scouting patrol," she lied. "He's still breaking in the Babylon." He was on board the Babylon, that was true. He rarely left it these days. Corwin too had been looking almost haunted recently.

"My ship," John said, almost proudly. "Not…. my ship any more. They…. changed it…. did…. things…. to it…. Gave it to someone else…."

"It wasn't altered as much as you thought," she said, hoping that would comfort him. Compared to some of the other human ships they had fought, the Babylonhad contained remarkably little Shadow technology. "It was just…." How had Commander Corwin put it? "It was just beefed up a little. Improved hull integrity, navigation, weapons…." She had told John this before. Several times.

"My ship," he said, his voice growing quieter. "My…. ship…." His eyes closed. "Love you…. Anna," he whispered, as he fell asleep.

Delenn did not cry. She wanted to, but she could not. She had no more tears left.

* * *

Speeches. He had made so many, to so many different people. They were all much the same really. Empty promises, pledges and assurances that he knew he would not be able to meet, hollow guarantees and offers of friendship. All the while people back home would be preparing their own actions, completely indifferent to every word he was saying.

The situation here was a little different, but the speech was largely the same.

"We do not wish further violence between our peoples," he said, addressing the Inner Council of the United Alliance, and making sure to study each figure in turn. "The tragedy of the altercation at Epsilon Three only shows the true horror that can arise from such a conflict."

They were listening, some more patiently than others. Minister Lethke was most attentive, and the Narn Ambassador G'Kael seemed quite interested. The two Drazi frequently snorted and tutted under their breath, but they made no interruptions.

And as for their leader, the blessed Delenn…. Ambassador David Sheridan had no idea what she was doing, for he was not looking at her at all. Not even a glance.

"We must not let zealots on either side blind us to the possibilities of a strong, working peace. The race you call the Shadows, and that I call friends, have much to offer you all. They have helped humanity return to security, they have helped protect the borders of humanity's space, and have provided technology far in advance of anything else currently available.

"The 'Shadows' wish only to help the other races, and live in peace and understanding with them. Their actions have been purely defensive on all occasions, aimed at countering threats to their welfare by others. All you have heard about them are half-truths and misconceptions, spread by their enemies. Spread by ignorance.

"They will be happy to show such people as Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, his…. Rangers, and even Primarch Sinoval the error they have been labouring under." G'Kael started briefly at mention of G'Kar's name, but he said nothing. "Any or all of you are welcome to come to the Shadows' homeworld of Z'ha'dum, or if you would prefer, to Proxima Three. They wish only peace…. and a better understanding between us all."

He would not be believed of course, not with both Delenn and G'Kar here. The Narn might be possible to circumvent, but it would be difficult; he had been surrounded by Vorlons for too long. And as for Delenn…. Well, with her there were a thousand years of Vorlon indoctrination to get through, and that was simply not going to happen. But he had another trump card to play with her.

"We wish only peace," he repeated. "They wish only…. to help."

* * *

He does not respect you.

She does not love you.

I will make you stronger. I will make you better than him. I will make her love you.

Kozorr sat alone in his cell, thinking. He was alone, but by his own request. He was also, as strange as it may sound, not a prisoner, save by his own will.

All the time he had been here he had been sparring with Sonovar, each of them testing their skill with the denn'bok, unarmed, and with other weapons. They were evenly matched, despite Kozorr's injuries. Neither had been able to kill the other.

"Imagine you were not injured so," Sonovar had said. "What could you accomplish then? More even than Sinoval, perhaps."

He thought of Kats, and wondered ever so tentatively where she was, and what she was doing now. She would be with him, the Primarch, the greatest warrior of this generation, and perhaps of any other.

He had told her at last that he loved her. He had been prepared to give his life for her.

Would Sinoval have done as much?

She will never love you.

Sonovar had said so. He could be lying. He had lied about a great many things, but Minbari did not lie. Did Kats love him? Could she truly love him?

Could she, with Sinoval there? Knowing that the Primarch was greater than him?

She will never love you, not while she is with him. I can help you become greater than him.

He rose to his feet, moving awkwardly. The injuries to his leg seemed more crippling than ever. He raised his arms wide and roared in defiance. He did not know what to do, or what to think.

She will never love you.

"She will love me," he roared. "She…. will."

* * *

This, more than anything, he did not want to do. Bad enough his duty had brought him to this pathetic planet in the first place, but to be placed here, in this position, to confront his greatest failure….

David Sheridan had thought about his son continually for sixteen years, ever since the war had started. He had not seen him for over thirteen of those years, and now he would see him again, fully paid for all the wrong choices he had made.

He did not want to, but ties of blood were greater by far than ties of water. He had one last duty to perform for his son.

The guards did not see him. The doctors did not see him either. It was late at night. Delenn was not here. He had chosen his time carefully.

He was not truly certain who to blame. John had made his own decisions, and the choice to betray his people and his wife had been one of those. He was a man now, and had been so for many years. He had a right to make those decisions.

But it was a father's duty to tell his son where he had gone wrong.

But then…. how much of this had been Delenn's doing? John had been loyal and true before he had met her. He could not decide. There was another fate in store for Delenn, a fate that should serve as a reminder to John of what happened to those she claimed to love.

He paused and looked down at the figure in the bed. It hardly looked anything like the young man he remembered. Thirteen years, almost fourteen now…. that would change anyone a lot. But this much…?

John was asleep, or so it seemed. Jha'dur's subtle revenge was close to claiming him. A few more months at most. Ambassador Sheridan hated Jha'dur for a great many things, but for this more than anything else.

His son should not have to die this way, and if Delenn chose correctly he would not have to.

Placing his son's fate in her hands…. that hurt. In spite of everything that John had done…. to Anna, to humanity, to his crew and his Government…. in spite of all that, John was still his son.

John was beginning to wake up. It was dark in here, but certain…. changes had been made to David in order to help him see better. He could see his son's face all too well. He wished he could not.

John blinked, and strained to look round. "Wh…. who's there?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, rasping. "Who…? Not Delenn…." He fell silent, and his breathing continued as regular, as unnatural as always.

"D…. Dad," he breathed.

"Hello, John. You certainly messed everything up this time, hmm?"

Chapter 3

He had always wanted to be a father, always wanted the joy of bringing life into the world, of watching his child being born, growing, learning, and over time becoming greater than him. He had believed that there could be no greater joy for a parent than to be surpassed by his children.

And no greater pain than to watch his children fail.

Ambassador David Sheridan looked down at his crippled, dying son, and he was not sure what to think. He had not seen John in over thirteen years, but he had never been far from his thoughts. To see him like this….

Still, he knew who to blame, and she would receive her own punishment for her part in this.

But that could wait.

"D…. Dad?" whispered the pathetic figure in the life support system.

"Hello, John," he replied, using every iota of his skill and experience not to reveal his true emotions. Some things had to be said here, and he had to say them. If John was to live, then he had to understand what he had done, and where he had gone wrong.

And teaching him those things was a father's duty, was it not?

"You really messed things up this time, hmm?"

"Dad," he whispered. "Ah…. d…. dreaming. You're dead."

David shook his head. "No, I'm not dead, John. There have been times I wished I were, but…. I'm still alive, more so than you are by the looks of things."

"Where's…. Mum? Liz? I'm dead…. aren't I? This is…. Heaven?"

"Trust me, John. I've never been to Heaven, but I hope it's better than this place. You're still alive, and so am I. I was one of the lucky ones, John. I got away. Your Mum and Liz…. they didn't."

"What…. happened? Why…. why didn't you…. come…. earlier?"

"If I could have done, I would." He walked around the bed slowly, looking at the paralysed body of his only son. The virus that was killing him was of no concern. Slowly, David sat down, noting with considerable distaste that this was where Delenn would sit while she was here. "I've…. been busy. I've had a lot to do. I've been putting all my old skills to good use, John. Brokering alliances…. helping out at Proxima…. doing what I could…."

"Why…. here?"

"Business with the Alliance. I don't suppose she told you. No, of course not. She's the one who got you into this whole mess in the first place. She's not likely to want to get you out of it. Her, and all the Minbari. It was thanks to them you were infected with this…. awful virus, wasn't it? I know where it came from, John."

"How…?" He was blinking slowly. His eyes were vague and unfocussed.

"I've…. access to important information. I can help you, John. We can help you. We have a cure. We might even be able to do something with your injuries. I can't promise that…. but we can do more for you than they can here. And even if we can't…. what sort of place is this for you? You should be with your own kind…. not these aliens.

"Come with me, John. Come home."

"Where? Come…. where?"

"Proxima. We can cure you there. We can help you. You were just…. led astray. Brainwashed, even. The President might not like the idea of your coming back, but he understands. You're no threat to him any more. Come home."

"Cure…? Oh no. Dad…. tell me…. you didn't…. The Shadows…."

"Shadows? What sort of name is that? Yes, I work for them, John, but they helped me. They help all of us."

"They…. did this…. to me…."

"No. Delenn did that to you. And G'Kar, and all of these aliens here. John…. the Shadows…. are our friends. They helped me. They saved my life. Without them, I'd be dead. As dead as your mother is."

"No…. Don't want to hear this."

"What choice do you have? John, listen to me! The Minbari have got to you, and they've brought you here! Jha'dur infected you thanks to them! They caused you to rebel against your own Government…. to fire on your own ships…. to kill your own people.

"And as for Anna…."

"No. I'm just dreaming." The cry was pitiful, almost too painful for him to bear, but he continued. Some things had to be said.

"They did that to you, John. I don't…. understand how you could do…. what you did to her…. but you're my son, and you always will be. I forgive you. Just come home."

"No. Who are you? My Dad would never work for…. those things. I don't…. I'm dreaming. You're not real. Go away."

He sighed softly, and then nodded. "I see. I'm sorry, John. I'm…. really sorry. But you're still my son." He rose to his feet, and slowly walked to the door. "Goodbye, John." Then he left.

John Sheridan stayed awake long into the night, wet tears on his face.

* * *

Alfred Bester had once thought of his greatest virtue as being that he always knew where his priorities lay. As he contemplated the end of Sanctuary he weighed them up in his mind and found that they were accurate, as always.

Sanctuary had been a great asset to him, but it was now in danger, and if it must be lost, then lost it must be. There were greater things to worry about.

His people, his friends, and his loved one…. not necessarily in that order.

By necessity he had trusted very few people in the course of his life. His own people, of course, he had always known and wished to trust implicitly. All telepaths and telekinetics were his siblings after all, and they would one day inherit the galaxy together. Sadly, however, he had learned through bitter experience that too many of them were more like wayward children than attentive brothers and sisters. Too many of them did not understand, and wanted to do things…. differently.

Although he wished for little else than to trust them all, he knew that as a practicality he could trust very few. It was truly sad, but they were his people and he could forgive them anything. He had even forgiven Donne, for her…. misguided actions that had caused her failure, and his current predicament.

But while his own people could be forgiven anything, mundanes were a different matter entirely. They bred like rabbits, they had no regard for themselves or others, and they killed indiscriminately. He did not hate them, but as far as he was concerned they were simply a lesser breed. He did not hate animals for failing to understand how things truly worked, so why should he hate mundanes, who were after all only animals?

Two of them however, much to his surprise, had become his friends.

One of them was by now almost certainly dead, and he was as saddened by Michael's death as he would have been had any of his own people died. A sad, unfortunate waste of life. He had gone to break the news to Michael's widow Lianna as soon as he was sure. He owed his friend that much at least.

His other mundane friend was with him now, putting into action one of the final stages of a safety plan both of them had conceived in anticipation of things going as badly wrong as they had.

Captain Ari Ben Zayn, one of the most talented and experienced soldiers in these troubled times, listened carefully to Bester's requirements, interrupting every so often with a comment or advisory of his own. He had helped devise this plan, but that did not mean he was comfortable with it.

When Bester was finished, Ben Zayn spoke up: "I still think you're taking too much responsibility for this upon yourself," he said. "Surely another of us can take on your role."

"Impossible, as I said. Our enemies know me. They do not know the rest of us. Firstly, we must conceal from them our true strength and numbers, and secondly…. if anyone else takes on my role then they might decide on an alternative strategy and our plan will be wasted."

"It's too risky."

"Life is a risk. Come now, Captain, we do not even know if the Government at Proxima will attack here. They may not know of the exact circumstances of my betrayal. All these preparations may not be necessary."

"Only a fool spends all his time hoping for everything to work out for the best," the scar-faced Captain said bluntly.

"And neither of us is a fool. No…. if they come for us we will know, and we will be ready. Sanctuary is not our only line of defence. You know what to do, Captain."

"I know." He rose from his seat, and saluted. He then turned and made for the door. Just as he reached it, Bester suddenly halted him.

"I…. I have been thinking recently. I wish to thank you for all the loyal service you've given me over the years. I appreciate it, and I do not know if I say that as often as I should."

Ben Zayn thought about this for a moment, and then nodded. "I always know, even if you don't say it. Besides, I owe you far more than this, remember?" Without saying another word, he left.

Bester chuckled wryly. True friends were rare indeed, and he supposed he was fortunate indeed to have one there. But then he sobered up. True friends might be rare, but true love was even rarer.

That was another matter to be dealt with. He had to get Talia away from here before everything fell apart, but he could not tell her. She had never wanted to know about all the darker things he had been forced to do to preserve his people, and he had never wanted to tell her. She claimed to love him for who he was, and nothing more.

"Talia," he said over the comm channel. "I need to see you." He received her acknowledgement and then sat back, thinking about her. He had never been in love before he had met her, and it had been a very frightening experience. Genetically, they were completely incompatible. She was only a P5 after all, and had this been the old days the interests of the Corps would have kept them apart.

But these were not the old days, and he wasthe Corps. He loved her with all that he was, and the two of them would not be apart.

That was why he hated sending her on these missions, but this was what she had been trained to do. Infiltrate and exploit. The last major mission she had been on had been last year, and had been just as much for G'Kar's benefit as for his. An infiltration mission on the bridge of the Babylon, to observe the progress of humanity's alliance with the Shadows, and later to sabotage their final attack on Minbar.

This mission was for his benefit, and hers. There was an important matter on Proxima Donne had been looking into, but with her death someone else had to fulfill the role, and more importantly it would get Talia away from here. He knew it would be dangerous for her, to be in the stronghold of his potential enemies, but where better a hiding place?

The door opened and she entered, and as always his breath was taken away by the sight of her. She looked so beautiful. He sighed softly.