Текст книги "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.(ЛП)"

Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 78 страниц)

"You are insane."

"I serve the Dark Masters."

"Something's gone wrong." The Alliance ships were opening fire on the Brotherhood. "This isn't what we planned."

"This one shared no part in your plans. We will watch."

"Moreil, damn you!" She turned to leave, but the Wykhheran shimmered into view in front of her.

"You will remain."

Faceless, kill them.

There was no reply.

Faceless!

We can raise no arms against our own,the alien voice hissed in her mind. N ot the creations of Thrakandar and not the Z'shailyl.

Trapped, Mi'Ra tuned back to Moreil. "Please!" she cried. "It's going wrong."

Moreil did not seem to hear her. He was still looking, searching for what he alone could see.

* * *

"They took a great deal from us."

Da'Kal looked at him. She had not said anything for a long time, looking at him with a pitying, haunting gaze. G'Kar could not permit himself to look at her, but he had to. The dim light accentuated the fire in her eyes. Her shadow seemed to be almost a thing of its own.

"Of course they did," she replied.

"They gave us a great deal as well."

She looked confused, and then she nodded. "Yes," she said simply. "They gave us pain and suffering and mourning."

"They gave us strength," he corrected her. "They showed us horror and pain, and they took away our weaknesses. We became stronger as a result. We were willing to give everything we had to destroy them. We lived for years in fear and it never broke us.

"They gave us strength."

"Yes," she nodded. "They did. And we will use it against them."

"They gave us their Game. Intrigue, subtlety, assassination. They gave us the Thenta Ma'Kur, the Kha'Ri, the politics. They gave us all that."

"I know that tone of voice," she drawled. "You are reaching a point somewhere, G'Kar. I am listening."

"You are going to destroy them using their own methods. You are using lies and deception and trickery. Do you think I am blind, Da'Kal?"

"For someone so perceptive, you might as well be blind in one eye sometimes. You see, but you do not see."

"You have encouraged the raiders to assault Centauri worlds. You have deepened their involvement with the Shadows. You have sent in 'peacekeeping' Alliance forces. The Centauri have lost their freedom, and not a single Narn has died in the process. Within a handful of years every Centauri planet will be commanded by a Narn 'peacekeeper', yes?"

She nodded. "It was you who convinced me of that plan. I heard your words to the Kha'Ri the last time you were here. Military power alone will not do it. Your words have reached too many people. Too many believe you. They accept peace and unity and togetherness.

"So how better than to use peace and togetherness to achieve our ultimate goals? Yes, we have an agent among those raiders, and yes, we have encouraged them to attack Centauri worlds. We have sent agents into Tuchanq space, to stir up feelings against the Centauri. They are a remarkably gullible people. You would be proud of us, G'Kar. There was a civil war going on. A rebel called noMir Ru was at war with the Government. We stepped in and brought things to a peaceful conclusion. All it took was a finger pointed at the Centauri."

G'Kar bowed his head, remembering a mission he had sent to the Tuchanq. noMir Ru had been one of the delegates his emissaries had met. There had been an incident and she had been knocked unconscious, driven mad by the breaking of her link with the Song. The Tuchanq Government had told him they had the situation under control. There had been a million other things to do, and he had forgotten about them.

"Also in the spirit of togetherness, we reached out to a few other alien races, ones lost and homeless. We offered them a purpose."

Something flickered behind Da'Kal, something in her shadow. G'Kar had earlier thought it had been moving of its own will and volition, but now.... there was something there, something humanoid, but ghostly, something formless and....

.... faceless.

Understanding came in an instant. The force that had stunned him at the memorial. Rumours of Shadow monstrosities fighting with the Raiders. The mysterious deaths of those who had opposed Da'Kal's plans.

"Shadowspawn," he whispered.

"A Faceless," Da'Kal corrected him. "Their Masters are gone now. They are no threat to anyone. Not the Faceless or the Wykhheran or the Z'shailyl or any of them. All they need is a home and someone to protect them. We were happy to oblige. See, G'Kar, we have followed your lessons. Help the weak.

"They are no danger to us."

G'Kar's eyes were wide and horrified. "No! Oh, Da'Kal, what have you done?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought.... hatred and fear, yes. A lack of forgiveness, a lust for revenge, but not this!

"Not the Shadowspawn."

"What is it, G'Kar? How dare you criticise the way I have...?"

"You don't understand. Oh, Da'Kal.... you have killed us all. Every last one of us.

"Both of us have."

* * *

It appeared, a still, black monument to ancient power and terror. Motionless against the night, it remained, casting a long black shadow across the battle.

Both sides pulled back, hesitant to cross the line that shadow created.

A voice began to speak, a voice heard in all languages, on all ships.

"This ends now."

Moreil looked at Cathedral with a mixture of longing and terror.

"Death," he whispered as he heard the voice. "You see," he said, to the trapped Mi'Ra. "It is Death come at last."

She looked at him. "You are mad," she said simply, and turned to flee.

The Wykhheran tore her apart with one blow.

"Death," Moreil said again, with more than a hint of satisfaction.

* * *

Everywhere he went, everywhere he ran, there were mirrors. Endless people running alongside him, away from him, towards him. All the same person, and yet a little different.

John Sheridan stopped and saw someone staring back at him, a man he did not know. A man who had been able to save his daughter from Orion, to see her grow up. A man who still loved Anna, who had never captured Delenn.

He turned, reeling, and stumbled into another man. A man who had never become a soldier, but a farmer. He had looked up one night to see the sky raining fire.

Staggering, he saw countless images of himself – in a white robe, an Earthforce uniform different from any he knew, a Minbari warrior's outfit, a uniform that seemed part-Earthforce part-Minbari with a strange badge on the shoulder. He saw himself sorrowful, hateful, a murderer, a peacemaker, a leader, a servant, a killer.

Finally he stumbled to a halt, collapsing to his knees. Above him the sky beat like a black heart and clouds of lightning split the darkness. There was a smell he had never noticed before – the smell of an abattoir.

A figure approached him and he looked up, half-afraid of what permutation of his life he would see now.

The mirrors shattered and a familiar figure stood in front of him.

"We do not have time for mirrors any longer," Sinoval said.

"You," Sheridan whispered, understanding dawning at last. "What is this? Some sort of trap. You.... oh, God. You did something to me on that space station. You.... took something, or gave me something. All those dreams.... those mirrors, the voice, the questions....

"All of that was you."

Sinoval nodded.

"So what is it then? Are you trying to drive me mad? Am I a drooling wreck wherever my body is now, staring at bright lights and pretty colours? Is this all just a plan for revenge?"

"Do you truly think so little of me, Sheridan? Do you truly think I would be that petty?"

Sheridan paused, and bowed his head. "No, I don't." He looked up. "But if it served your goals, you would drive me insane in a second, wouldn't you?"

Sinoval seemed to consider that. "It would take longer than a second, but yes, I would. Fortunately for you, that was not my goal. We do not have a great deal of time, Sheridan. I have had to advance things a lot more quickly than I would have liked, but such is war, hmm?

"Every question I asked you. You could not answer a single one of them, could you?"

"What do you...? I don't have to answer any questions, least of all from you!"

"Damn it, Sheridan! Listen to me! I cannot do this alone. I inspire fear, perhaps awe. You inspire respect. They will follow me out of fear, but they will follow you out of love, and which do you think is stronger? But they will only follow you if your mind is clear.

"Yes, I took something from you. A tiny part of your soul. No more than droplets of water from the surface of a lake, but enough to give me a link. Into your dreams, into your fantasies, into your mind. I created a soulscape to force you to confront what you have become. There were.... other plans, but they failed, and I was forced to rely on what I had. Unfortunately they have found this out, and set a trap.

"To be honest, I think this was just a warning, a hint to me of what they are capable of. They actually fear me, do you realise that? They must, to threaten.... this.

"But that is my problem. I can free us, Sheridan, take you back to your body, but there will not be another chance. I will not be able to do this again. They know what I am doing, and I cannot do this alone.

"Sheridan. Who are you?"

"I don't have to answer your...!"

"Sheridan! Look at yourself in the mirror! Look at Delenn. Think about what you have become. Where are your friends, Sheridan? Where are those you love? Your precious Alliance, what has it become? Are you really who you want to be?

"Are you who Delenn wants you to be?"

"I...." Sheridan bowed his head, shaking. "What.... what did they do to me?"

"Nothing you were not willing to do to yourself. That is the tragedy of it. They healed you, yes, body and soul, but they did it by breaking you and putting the pieces back together. Some.... pieces just became set too far back. Occasionally they would reach out and intervene directly, but for the most part that was not necessary. They made you susceptible to their plans, to their desires, but the truth is, they did not have to do very much, did they? You have always been a creature of order, Sheridan."

"What of it? Is that such a bad thing?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. My inclinations have always been towards chaos. A raised blade, a battlefield, the carrion scavengers circling in the sky. That is my world, but I will not force it upon others who do not accept it. The life I live is my choice, no one else's. Look at your life, Sheridan. Look at what you have become."

"The.... the things they did to me. Can you undo them?"

"No. Another could have, perhaps, but she is lost to me. You can undo it yourself. Just think about who you are and who you want to be. That is all. It is not about me. It is about you."

"I can do this all myself?"

"If you want to enough. If you think the road you are about to walk down is not the path you desire. Delenn made her choice once. I made mine. This is yours. You have made mistakes in the past, but now is your chance to undo them.

"Sheridan, who are you?"

He stood up. "Not who I want to be. Take me back."

"We will not meet again," Sinoval said, holding up his hand and tracing patterns in the air.

Sheridan looked at him, and in the split second before they both disappeared, he said one word.

"Good."

* * *

"You will not die!" Marrago screamed into the uncaring air.

Beneath his feet he could feel the ship leaving hyperspace. Dasouri had taken them into the battle at last, not caring to wait any longer for orders.

"You will not die!"

The Shadow creature raged at him, striking and lashing out. One claw carved a blood-red line across his arm, but he hardly noticed. All was blood, one drop onto another. His blood, her blood, all was one.

"I will not let you die!"

He struck out with his kutari, not even conscious of its being in his hand. The forms, the attack, the defence, all were subconscious. Years of training had taken over, a soldier's training.

"I will not lose you!"

He was sobbing, hardly able even to see the creature through the flood of tears in his eyes. He could not feel the pain in his arm, or his back, or anywhere else he was wounded. The pain he felt was deeper and more potent and hurt him everywhere.

"Lyndisty! I won't let you die!"

The Wykhheran was puzzled, but then it knew it did not have to understand. His lord had bade him kill this one, this Sin-tahri who acted as a Master. And yet the Sin-tahri was acting strangely now. It was making loud noises, the same loud noises over and over again. There was water in its eyes. It seemed to be in grief, and the Wykhheran had never known a Master behave in grief.

The smaller Sin-tahri female on the floor was dying slowly. Was that why the one who acted like a Master grieved? What was she to this one? The Wykhheran did not know. Perhaps his lord would tell him later.

The fight was hard, but then the Wykhheran had expected it to be. Despite its size and age, the Sin-tahri would fight hard and well, a sharp tooth of metal in its hand, one wielded as if it were a claw. The claw struck quickly, but hard, and it caused pain.

Pain was nothing. The Wykhheran had been forged to feel no pain.

The Sin-tahri staggered back, standing over the fallen female. It would not take another step back, guarding her body. Was she special? She was smaller and weaker, but she could be a priest, some Sin-tahri equivalent to the Priests of Fallen Midnight?

But she did not look like a Master. The Wykhheran had seen her through his lord's eyes. She was weak and afraid. Her wounds had come from herself and that was surely a sign of weakness.

The Wykhheran did not understand these Sin-tahri. They were too strange.

It lashed out and the Sin-tahri fell back over the body of the female. Tasting blood in its mouth, the Wykhheran moved forward, and then the voice spoke.

This ends now.

The voice of the Chaos-Bringer, last legacy of the Masters. His voice. The one spoken of, whispered in moonlight and midnight and madness. Known among the Faceless, the Z'shailyl, the Wykhheran, even the Zarqheba.

Sinoval. The Chaos-Bringer. Enemy of the Light. Wielder of Darkness.

The Chaos-Bringer had spoken and the Wykhheran obeyed. The Masters had charged them all, speaking through the spark created at Thrakandar. They would serve the Chaos-Bringer. They would obey his words.

This ends now.

The Wykhheran stopped, ever eager to obey. Even when the Sin-tahri drove its tooth into it, the Wykhheran did nothing. It remained still and peaceful as the Sintahri hacked it apart, even to the point of ultimate death.

It died as it had lived. Ever obedient to the Masters.

Later, when the battle was over, Dasouri sent some of his crew to find their captain. They found him in his quarters, beside the dead body of a mighty and horrific beast. He was kneeling on top of Senna's body, furiously trying to beat life into her hearts, tying bandages around the wounds on her arms and legs and body that no longer flowed with blood, vainly crying out the name of a different woman altogether and heedless of the fact that she too was quite dead.

* * *

G'Kar spoke hollowly, the deaths of millions now weighing on his soul.

"I knew," he began. "I knew there was a plan here, some ploy for revenge against the Centauri. I knew you were involved. I knew that you would be watching me if I came, and that you would move. I hoped.... no, I knew you, Da'Kal. You would not have me killed from a distance. You would want to bring me to you, perhaps even recruit me.

"There is a transmitting device hidden in one of my teeth. It is one of the newest pieces of Alliance technology, undetectable and capable of bypassing any known scanning device. I ordered its creation from information I acquired from the Great Machine.

"Every word of our conversation has been heard by my Rangers here. Every word has been heard by my Rangers at Babylon 5.

"Every word will have been heard by the Vorlons.

"How could you, Da'Kal? How could you turn to the Shadows?"

"The Shadows are dead and gone!" she cried. "All that is left are those who followed them, and why should we not enlist their aid? Who is to tell us what we may or may not do with our freedom?"

"The Vorlons will," G'Kar said sadly.

"We have done nothing wrong. I have done nothing of which a Narn should be ashamed."

"The Vorlons think otherwise. Ah, Da'Kal, I have seen them these past years. Once they were friends and allies, benevolent protectors, but what they have become.... I have seen it with the Centauri and the Drazi. They will send in the Inquisitors and the Dark Stars, and they will make slaves of us all, those they do not kill.

"Do you see what your lust for revenge has brought, Da'Kal?"

"Let them come! We will fight their Inquisitors and their Dark Stars and whatever else they throw at us. We will never be slaves again!"

"Then we will be dead."

"Do you hear me, Vorlons? I am Da'Kal of Narn and I do not fear you! Send whatever force you like, and we will destroy it."

"You have doomed us all, Da'Kal."

She looked at him, the light globe held before her like a talisman.

"No, you have killed us all, G'Kar. You speak of peace and unity when what we need is war and revenge. We will never be safe while the Centauri live. We will destroy them, and if the Alliance try to enslave us we will destroy them as well.

"If you had been stronger, G'Kar, you would have seen this for yourself."

"If you had been wiser, you would have seen for yourself how wrong that is."

She cried out, a wordless scream of anger and frustration and betrayal. She hurled the light globe towards him and it shattered against the side of his face. Blood filled his vision and he slumped back, now staring only at darkness.

Darkness everywhere.

Only the sound of the door opening and closing told him that she had left.

* * *

The battle was still; a silent, frozen image. On one side, the raiders of the Brotherhood Without Banners and their Tuchanq allies. On the other, the Dark Stars of the United Alliance.

And in the middle, the Emissary of Death. Cathedral.

For a long time there was silence. Moreil, watching from the observation point of his ship, could not say a word, simply staring at the unmoving vessel. His Wykhheran could not speak or move, impulses they did not understand filling their minds. Mi'Ra's body cooled on the floor.

Then a sound reached all their ears, Alliance and raider and Tuchanq and Centauri alike. It reached the planet and it reached space.

It was music, a song.

To Moreil it was hideously ugly, and he winced, raising his hands to cover his ears, slumping to the ground in pain.

To the telepaths trapped within the Dark Stars it was a thousand different songs – nursery rhymes, concert arias, hymns – it was something different to each one of them. Each one heard a tiny part of their life and the first piece of their past touched them.

Lord-General Marrago did not hear it. Not so much as a single note.

The Tuchanq heard it, all those on the ships and all those on the world below, and they fell to the ground in joy. Some of them cried, some shouted out their gladness to the heavens, most joined in.

The Song of the Land was being sung again.

And then, once the song was finished, the voice spoke to them again, the voice of Death that came from Cathedral.

This ends now. If anything thinks I am joking, just try it.

And it did end.

But in a sense, it began as well.

* * *

There was light and darkness and a mirror shattering, and a voice and a million questions he could not answer. There was hatred and love and a great and terrible anger, and there were mirrors, hundreds of mirrors, all showing him different things.

All showing him what he had been, or could have been, or still might be.

His eyes opened and General John J. Sheridan sat up in his hospital bed.

* * *

There is disturbing news, Light Cardinal.

Reveal it.... Yes, this is now known.

We must send the Inquisitors. The world must be purified.

No. The darkness runs deep and long. Three races already have felt the touch of the Inquisitors and still more turn to the Darkness. A greater lesson is needed, one that will fill all their eyes with light and leave no shadows in their minds; no doubt or questioning, only fear and obedience.

We await your command, Light Cardinal.

Awake the Death of Worlds.