Текст книги "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)"
Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 38 страниц)
Chapter 2
"Tell me, Miss Hampton, what is the current situation on the Sakai problem?" "Everything is proceeding as you planned, sir. Her partner was killed, and Sakai escaped. We have her under surveillance, and she is currently heading for Dome Three."
"Hmm…. is there any likely indication of why she is going there?"
"Little accurate information. Records do show that Miss Sakai has several friends and associates there. One in particular has some influence and a little power. A Miss Julie Musante. A former member of the Ministry for the Interior and currently a private lawyer specialising in interstellar commercial law…."
"Yes, yes, Miss Hampton. Thank you for your information. Maintain surveillance on Miss Sakai and inform our agents in Dome Three. Also…. establish a base of operations somewhere near Miss Musante's residence."
"Yes, sir."
The conversation ended and the man sat back, stretching out in his chair, the one item of luxury in an otherwise spartan office. "You see, Mr. Zento. Everything is going according to plan."
"I still don't see the point of this, sir," replied a man many would identify as being one of the richest and most influential in what remained of the Earth Alliance. "Surely we could have managed this with much less effort…."
"Oh, if it was just our own concerns involved, then yes, of course we could. But…. we are working on orders from a different source here, Mr. Zento, and they, for whatever reason, want Miss Sakai put through the proverbial wringer. We can only assume that their reasons are important and do as we are told. Everyone, Mr. Zento, answers to somebody, and I am no exception. Do you understand?"
"Of course I do, sir."
"Good. I am glad this is going so well thus far. I had anticipated it being much harder. Oh well, sometimes the Gods smile on us. If not on others…. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm an atheist, sir."
"Ah, that is a pity. One should always have something to believe in, Mr. Zento. Something to pray to, something to curse…."
"If you say so, sir."
"Ah." He fell silent. "Ah," he repeated, more sadly than before.
Both of them resumed their waiting.
* * *
"This is a beautiful place."
Delenn looked at her companion thoughtfully. For all that Valen – or Jeffrey Sinclair – represented, she was still unsure of his status and her relationship with him. There was so much about him she simply could not understand, and was not sure she wanted to understand. He was a legend and a hero and…. now…. he was what?
"How so?" she asked softly.
It had been a long day, but with as much work done as she could reasonably cope with she had gone for a walk, feeling the light and the darkness of her new home. He had come across to her and joined her. No word had been spoken and none had been offered…. until now.
"There is hope here. A hope for the future. Something I have seen so rarely…. except in the last days of the war, and then only briefly."
"But…. after the war, surely? There was hope then? A time for rebuilding and healing…."
"A time of hardship and betrayal. The war lasted so long, too many just did not know what peace was meant to be. The clans warred among each other for years afterwards. It took decades for the Grey Council to be accepted and even longer for a true balance of power to be struck. And then there was Marrain…. No, the war might have been over, but the aftermath…. that still endures even now."
"Marrain, yes…." Delenn said his name softly. Some – mostly religious caste, it had to be said – referred to him as 'the Betrayer'.
"A great man…. once. Time…. and darkness…. can seize us all."
"You are maudlin today," she whispered softly.
"Perhaps…. I am remembering a great deal, some of which I have not yet experienced, some of which I have. My thoughts often come back to Derannimer."
"Yes…. We know so little of her. She led the Grey Council for many years after you…. went beyond."
He stopped and looked a little surprised. "She did? That is good to know."
"You did not know?"
"No. Not everything. I…. recall making her my successor, but not how she would endure. I am glad she did well. She was…. a beautiful person. Not just in flesh, but in spirit. She shone so brightly…. That light once shone also in Marrain and Parlonn, but there is no light so bright it can never be eclipsed by shadows."
She nodded, and an uncomfortable silence fell across them both. Finally, he spoke again.
"Tell me…. Delenn. Do you know what became of our children? Derannimer and I…. we had children."
She shook her head sadly. "No. Your descendants left Minbar after you…. passed beyond. Some must have returned later, but we know little. Not even their names."
"Nor do I." She looked at him. "I cannot remember their names, or even how many there were. I struggle to recall, but it is like a net around my mind. So much I do not know…. Cathrenn. A daughter. We…. called her Cathrenn."
"Did you look through our records while you were on Minbar? I am sure some survived…. on the Valenthaat least. Perhaps…."
"No." Soft, but certain. "No, I could not. The…. the Vorlons…. I did not think they would let me. What I do remember they have programmed into me. I doubt I would be permitted to know anything else."
"It is sad. I find it hard to reconcile these last few revelations with the Vorlons I have always…. liked to think I knew. I wonder if…."
"There are factions, I think. The Vorlons are powerful, yes, but they do not all think alike. At least not in any way we can comprehend. My presence among you is the result of a compromise of sorts between the factions. What the other half of this compromise will be…. I do not know."
"Perhaps Lyta does," Delenn muttered. "Have you spoken to her recently?"
He shook his head. "She is…. elsewhere, with Captain Sheridan. Perhaps later, but for now, I am unsure. There is something within her…. Ah, how can I tell? I am probably acting on an instinct a thousand years out of date."
She smiled. "Perhaps, but I was always taught never to ignore instinct. The warrior caste swear by it."
"That may not be the best of recommendations."
Delenn laughed, and he smiled. "Yes," she said, smiling. "But still, not all of the warrior caste are as…." She searched for a word.
"Unprincipled?" he suggested.
"They have their own principles, I think. Very different from the rest of us. They now have the power in our society, and I fear for the fate of my people."
"You have done well enough for your people here. And not all of your people are Minbari."
She smiled. "Very true."
They reached the Main Government Building – what Vejar somewhat inexplicably had called the Neuadd – and Delenn came to a halt. "I have no doubt there is more business to attend to. And then I would like to meditate."
"I understand. And…. call someone, I believe?"
"I…. yes. Yes, I miss him."
"It takes no arcane knowledge to realise that. Nor does it take any foreknowledge of the future to know that you will be happy."
A cloud passed over her features. "Will we?" she said softly.
"Well, for a time at least."
She nodded, briefly, and began to mount the steps to the Neuadd. As she was halfway up, she paused, brief memories of an encounter near this spot with one possessed surfacing in her mind. "Will you be needing anything?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I will walk a little more. I must think and remember and…. enjoy this beautiful place you have here. Good fortune and peace be with you, Delenn."
"And with you…." She paused, unsure of what to call him. He had had no title in his earlier time, and 'Master' somehow did not seem appropriate.
He smiled, perhaps recognising her dilemma. "Delenn…. call me Jeffrey. It is a reminder of what I used to be. Perhaps of what I still am."
She nodded once, briefly. "Then be at peace…. Jeffrey."
* * *
It's tearing me apart!
Silence.
Voices. In his mind. In his soul.
His son. His wife. Where were they? He needed them. He was doing this for them…. wasn't he? A better place for them.
Running away. You're running away. Afraid of the future. You're running away!
No. Has to be done. Must be done. Do what's right. Do what must be done.
Running away.
Tearing…. me…. apart….
Gotta be one of the good guys….
…. 'cause there's way too many of the bad.
Tearing me ap….
Michael Garibaldi screamed as his body was torn in a million pieces, as his world exploded around him, and the voices stilled. Forever.
"Michael?" Garibaldi shook his head. "Are you all right?"
"Wha…. what?" he asked, disoriented. Who was talking to him? Who…?
"Are you all right?"
David. Of course. Commander Corwin. Two parts status report, three parts talk between friends. And yet…. something had….
Michael winced. For a moment he'd been somewhere else. Almost as if he were dreaming.
"Right, that's it. I'm calling Medlab." Garibaldi could see Corwin reaching for his link.
"No. No, don't worry. I'm fine. Really. Just…. must be a spot of migraine coming on. What were you saying again?"
"I was asking how Lianna was." Corwin did not look particularly convinced by the explanation.
"Oh, she's fine. Back on Sanctuary at the moment, of course. Looking after little Frank. Well, someone had to."
Corwin nodded. From what he remembered of the Captain's status report about this new…. Babylon 4 – and that was a hard concept to take – it had been a joint project between G'Kar and Bester. Some sort of rallying point, apparently. Some of Bester's people had come over from Sanctuary to supervise his involvement in the construction. Unfortunately Mary hadn't been one of them. At least not yet.
"And how's Frank? Must be…. nine months by now." Michael nodded. "Wow. Nine months. Doesn't time fly!"
"Yeah, a lot's happened since he was born."
"There's still a lot more going to happen. You mark my words."
"My, aren't we pessimistic."
"No." His tone was suddenly deadly serious. "No, certain."
"What? Did you suddenly become a prophet or something?"
"Something. Definitely something."
* * *
"And now, a repeat of the classic Reebo and Zooty film Howondaland Jones, Balgrog Hunter…."
Julie Musante sighed and switched off the viewscreen. There had been many hardships following the fall of Earth, but one of the most distressing, in her opinion anyway, was the lack of anything new on the screens these days. Repeats, more repeats and the news, and that was it.
She stretched, and silently debated between going to bed or clearing up after her dinner. At least the food options had improved recently, ever since President Clark had pulled off that 'diplomatic coup' with the Narns. Rationing had even been relaxed a little. Of course, all the food was Narn, but every silver lining had a cloud.
The question wasn't a hard one and bed won out again. Yawning, she had begun to make for the bedroom when her door chimed.
Unfortunately for Julie, not many people tended to ring at her door at this time of night, and the ones who did were not the people she preferred to be at her door at this time of night – i. e. the tall, dark and handsome.
"This is trouble," she muttered prophetically. "Who is it?"
"Security forces," came back a harsh voice. Julie started. Security? This must be bad.
"Open."
No sooner was the door open than five security officers rushed in. All were carrying ready PPGs and were looking less than pleased to be here. "What is this ab…?" Julie began to ask, before realising that they were ignoring her, and making a swift search of her room. "Hey!" she cried as one of them began opening her wardrobe.
"We apologise for the inconvenience, Miss Musante." She started, and saw a man walk in. He was dressed conservatively in a business suit, and had one hand in his trouser pocket. He stopped before Julie and bowed his head slightly. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Morden."
"What's this all about?" Julie asked again. "Is this a raid of some sort? And who are you?"
A slight smile graced his face. It didn't help. He looked very…. charming. Too charming by far. "No, not a raid. I am a…. freelance consultant, let us say. For the moment I am carrying out some work for Interplanetary Expeditions, who need various…. skills and contacts I possess. This matter concerns them, and someone of your acquaintance."
One of the security guards came up to this…. Morden. "The place is clean, sir," he said. "She isn't here."
"Who isn't?" but Julie was ignored.
"Ah, well done, Jack. Take position now." The guard nodded, and Morden turned back to Julie. "As I was saying, this matter concerns someone of your acquaintance…. a Miss Catherine Sakai. You do know her, I believe?"
"Yes, I do. Why? Is she is in some of trouble?"
"That is…. one very diplomatic way of putting it, yes. She is in a great deal of trouble. It appears she has been doing some things she should not have been doing. Contact with alien governments for a start."
"What? That's im…." She looked at him closely. Something in his eyes seemed to bewitch her. For a moment it seemed as though they were shining a brilliant golden. "That's…." She was trying to focus. "That can't be right. Can it?"
"Oh, we are afraid it is. We also have reason to believe she may be coming here at some point tonight. Now, we will need you to do something when she arrives. Can we count on your help?"
"…. Yes…. yes, I'll do whatever you want me to."
He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Now there's an offer and a half. Very well…. this is what we need you to do…."
* * *
"Be well, Captain. Extend my good wishes to the Alliance."
Sheridan nodded. "We will. Good luck with the rest of this, G'Kar. If you need us, just call."
"I will."
G'Kar's holographic form disappeared. Corwin shivered.
"I will never ever in a million years get used to that," he said. "Never ever."
Sheridan chuckled. "After all we've seen so far, a mere holographic Narn freaks you out. After Vorlons, Shadows, Drakh…. Minbari!"
"It has been an interesting life, hasn't it?"
"Well, as the curse says, 'May you live in interesting times'."
"Sometimes I'd settle for the boring times for a while."
Sheridan swivelled on his chair. "What's wrong, David?"
"I…. I just hoped I'd get to see Mary while I was here. But she's still on Sanctuary. It's just…. ah, it's nothing."
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Too long."
"Don't worry. You'll see her again."
"I hope so. Well, Captain. You'll at least get to see your true love. To Kazomi Seven."
"Yes," Sheridan said hollowly. At least I'll get to see my true love.
I am lost in darkness for you.
"Yes. To Kazomi Seven."
* * *
Michael Garibaldi was sitting peacefully in the gardens of Babylon 4, looking at the flora around him and wondering idly if there was any pattern there. There probably was, but he couldn't see it. But then, as he would have to admit to himself, he was not really looking very hard.
"Ah…." said a familiar voice. "
Garibaldi nodded. "Afternoon."
Zathras looked puzzled. "Yes. Yes, is afternoon. Zathras be knowing that already. Zathras can tell time very well, thank you."
"No, it was just a…. oh, never mind. Did you see Captain Sheridan when he was here? I heard he just left."
"Ah no. Zathras has not been having that pleasure."
"Really? I thought you'd met him before?"
"No no no no.
"Yeah…. uh, no…. uh, whatever."
"No, see…. is quite simple. Zathras has not met Captain Sheridan, but Zathras has. Different pronunciation. Zathras. Zathras."
"Ah…. right. Okay. I'll take your word for it. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Zathras just travelling. Just…. enjoying the scenery. Zathras spend a lot of time here after all."
"Oh, you like it here, do you?"
"No. Zathras will spend a lot of time here. Will then. You see?"
"Oh…. forget it."
"So…. why were you being here?"
"Just…. thinking. A lot of things have been…. Everything's changing, and too damn fast if you ask me."
"Ah, change, yes. Change is good. No no…. wait, change is bad. No…. change is…. good and bad…. bad and good. Ah. Zathras have this sorted soon. Zathras…." He suddenly stopped dead in his conversation, and seemed to be listening to something else. The fact that there wasn't anything else to be listening to wasn't deterring him. Finally he spoke up again, with considerable – and surprising – force in his words.
"If Valen can listen to Zathras, you can listen to Zathras!"
"Valen?"
Zathras started, and seemed to realise that he was sitting next to Garibaldi. "Ah, is being nothing," he said, sounding distracted. "No…. no…. is being something. Is definitely being something. Something not good. Must tell G'Kar. Yes yes.
"Garibaldi!" he corrected, but it hardly mattered. The strange-looking alien was leaving, muttering incomprehensibly to himself.
Garibaldi sighed. Honestly, it seemed as if everything that could happen here, did.
That wasn't a good thing.
* * *
Maybe I am just being paranoid, Catherine was thinking to herself. Maybe I should just have called Security. Maybe this is completely unrelated to G'Kar and…. Maybe….
No matter how many times she told herself that, she wasn't getting any calmer. Her heart was still beating like a snare drum, her head ached and her mouth was dry.
Maybe this is just unwanted paranoia.
Still, she had to admit that her journey to Julie's had been…. uneventful. The transport tubes had all been in operation. No one had stopped or questioned her, not even any of the beggars who usually infested the transport stations. The security guards doing routine and random ID checks had passed her by. Everything was…. normal.
So why hadn't she calmed down yet?
The door to Julie's apartment was just in front her. No one suspicious was hanging around nearby. There was nothing to indicate that this was anything other than an ordinary night.
So why hadn't she calmed down yet?
Breathing in deeply, Catherine rang the chime. She wasn't expecting an immediate reply – it was late, after all, and Julie might well be asleep. She was therefore surprised to hear, within moments, "Who is it?"
"Catherine," she answered. "Look, I know it's late, but I have to come in. This might seem strange, but…."
"No problem." The door opened and Catherine, without really thinking, stepped inside. Julie was standing there, in the centre of the room. She was still fully dressed and obviously hadn't been woken up. The room was quite dark.
Catherine made sure the door had closed behind her, then she staggered in and collapsed into a chair.
"What's wrong?" Julie asked. "Catherine, what…?"
She was crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried – possibly even before the fall of Earth. But she was crying now. "I'm…." she began. "I'm in trouble…. so much trouble…. Dan, he's…. he's…."
"What?" Julie's voice was strangely flat – emotionless even – but Catherine didn't notice.
"He's…. dead!"
"Oh, my God. Have you called Security?"
"I don't…. I think they might have…. they might…. be involved…. somehow. I think this is connected to…." She suddenly looked up, something playing around the edges of her mind. "Julie, has someone been here?"
"No." Too quick. Too emphatic. Too…. certain.
"No? Someone…. I can…."
Catherine leapt to her feet, darting for the door, acting on an instinct she could not explain. Someone stepped out of the shadows to intercept her.
"Hello, Catherine," said Morden.
* * *
"That is unacceptable, Minister!"
"Unacceptable? Maybe, but it is the truth, nonetheless. Our resources are limited, Delenn. Running out they are. We cannot accommodate all these refugees."
Delenn fought to restrain a burning anger, one fired by injustice and suffering and the sight of her people reduced to begging for mercy from aliens.
One also fired by Minister Vizhak, Minister for Internal Affairs, arguing against admitting the wretched exiles of her people.
"They are fleeing from the same darkness that has claimed everyone here," she continued. "The Drakh destroyed this world. We all remember what they did here. Can we possibly wish that fate on others? We…. my people…. have suffered the same fate as this planet, and if we cannot offer them sanctuary, then how can we live with ourselves?"
"They have other options," persisted Vizhak.
"Yes," Delenn acknowledged. "They have slavery, they have death, or they have here. Which would you choose, Minister?"
"They can go to Sinoval. He claims to be their leader. Let him have them."
A chill crept up Delenn's spine. "No! They have come here in rejection of Sinoval. I will not send them to him."
"We cannot accommodate them! We cannot feed them. We cannot clothe them. They cannot come here."
Delenn flicked a glance at the Brakiri Minister for the Economy, Lethke. He rose slowly to his feet. "It is true that our economic situation is…. tight, to say the least. We have just begun the extensive trading programme my team and I have devised. As yet…. our resources are limited. We can accommodate some of those who have come here for sanctuary. But not all."
"We need more revenue?" Delenn asked. Lethke nodded. "Then we will have more revenue. We will find a way, but we will take in the refugees."
"We went to help the Minbari because we thought they would be allies," said Vizhak. "Not burdens."
"We went to help them because it was right and just that we do so! We will help all we can."
"But the cost?"
"We will find it," Lethke said. "Accept all you can, Delenn. We will find the money from somewhere."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. Besides, Minister Vizhak, my people will not burden you. Many of those who come here are from the worker caste. They will be happy to work."
He grunted. "Then let them work."
* * *
Morden stood over the body and sighed, his eyes for one brief moment still glowing golden.
"Well," he said, "that was constructive, at least."
"Your orders, sir?" asked the security guard, Jack.
"My orders…." His eyes flashed golden again, and he smiled. "Yes, she is the right one. We had to be sure, obviously. Still, my…. associates think she's been through enough now. You…. did record the direction she ran, of course?"
"Of course, sir."
"Good. Then pick her up some time tonight. Whenever's most convenient. You know where to take her." He clicked his tongue lightly. "Yes, quite a productive evening."
He looked down at Julie Musante's dead body and nodded briefly.
* * *
They are my children, my people. We are special, unique, better than the others.
Alfred Bester was confused, an emotion most unfamiliar and most unwelcome. Especially now. He had always been so sure, so convinced of his place in life. As far back as he could remember, he had been clear and precise of thought. The Corps was mother, the Corps was father. He obeyed the Corps. He trusted the Corps. He believed in the Corps.
The Corps was gone now of course, but a part of it remained, in him, and in this place – Sanctuary. A legacy of numerous Corps projects, outfitted and renovated with resources secreted away long ago, allowed to endure at the behest of a strong Narn ally and a weak Resistance Government.
But things were changing. Their Narn ally was growing weaker, over-extending himself, risking everything in a futile war. G'Kar had been demanding more and more telepathic DNA from Bester and Sanctuary. His attempts at creating Narn telepaths had been successful at first, but the success was terminally short term. The quest would ultimately consume him.
And the Resistance Government…. they were growing stronger and stronger. Freed from the shackles of slavery, they now approached the Narn Government from a position of power rather than weakness. They had cannibalised Minbari ships and colonies and technology and were building a fleet at an extraordinary rate. Sooner or later, Bester knew, they would go up against G'Kar himself.
And there was little doubt who would win. The Resistance Government – if their war machine continued advancing at the projected rate – would soon be an even match for G'Kar's known resources. But with the aid of their Shadow allies….
Bester's resources – his two capital ships and his telepaths – could tip the conflict one way or the other.
Telepaths are my children. We are the future. We are the destiny.
His commscreen suddenly began flashing at him, and he started irritably. He knew who it would be, and he was right.
"Greetings, Mr. Welles," he said, smiling. Welles was not supposed to know this frequency, but he had found it out somehow. Very few secrets were safe from Proxima's Chief of Security.
"Mr. Bester. A pleasure as always. I should just let you know, your representative here, Miss Donne…. She committed another murder last night. She was quite clumsy this time, and chose inappropriately. A fairly high-ranking member of the Ministry of Trade. Pressure is mounting on me to find this murderer, both from our beloved President and from my own sense of justice. Have you reconsidered my offer?"
Bester was swearing inwardly. He had known for a long time that Donne had certain…. sociopathic tendencies, but so long as only mundanes were harmed, what did it matter? Evidently, it mattered to some.
"Put me in contact with G'Kar so that I may form a…. useful alliance with him, and I will ensure Donne is not blamed. Otherwise…. well, under the Wartime Emergency Provisions she would be executed if found guilty, which I assure you there is more than enough evidence to manage. I just want to speak with G'Kar."
"I will have to pass your request on to G'Kar, Mr. Welles," Bester said smoothly. "I will contact you again."
"Do not take too long." The image faded and Bester walked away from the screen, muttering to himself. That was one offer he had been made recently. There had been another – ostensibly from Ambassador Sheridan, but originating from a far more powerful source. That source wanted G'Kar betrayed…. utterly.
He weighed up the possibilities in his mind, thinking over and over again of his people – the ones who trusted him and who relied on him…. who needed him. He thought of the woman he loved, the child they had together and the ones they hoped for later.
And after several hours, a plan began to shape itself in his mind.
* * *
Catherine Sakai groaned softly as consciousness returned to her. Everything around her was dark, pitch black. But there was a more metaphorical darkness engulfing her as well.
She had seen them kill Julie, shooting her in the back without a second thought. Security guards. People wearing the uniform of security guards.
She hadn't been over-paranoid. She had been, if anything, not paranoid enough.
She had run, even managing to escape from Julie's apartment, but some time later – it could have been hours even – wandering around helplessly, she had been hit from behind, and fallen….
And now she was awake.
Lights suddenly came on all around her, and she shut her eyes from the pain. She tried to raise her hands to shield her face, but they were fixed to the chair she was sitting in.
"Greetings, Miss Sakai," said a voice she knew. Polite, polished, urbane, civilised….
She looked in the direction of the voice and saw a face she knew as well. The face of a man who was believed to have died years ago at Orion 7.
"I suppose you would like to know what has been happening, hmm?" asked William Edgars.
