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

Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс

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Текущая страница: 42 (всего у книги 78 страниц)

"But he is still a good man for all that. He has never intended to do wrong."

"How.... interesting," Sebastian said. "So very blind. Shall I tell you about good people with good intentions? Good people are weak, you blind woman. I believed once that I was doing good, and others called me a monster. I had good intentions, plans to erase debauchery and weakness and barbarism, and I was branded insane. Anyone can perpetrate acts of horror and barbarism and claim that they had 'good intentions'.

"As for him, his intentions are as irrelevant as yours. Deeds are what matter and what have his shown him to be?"

Kats smiled. "A good man. A strong man."

"Strong? On the contrary, he is flawed. Weak. Incomplete."

"Oh," she said, softly. "I don't know about that."

Sinoval darted forward, Stormbringer flashing. She had not seen the preparation, but she had heard his breathing, and she knew him. Sebastian took a step back and raised his cane to parry, but Kats had expected that.

Leaping forward, she grabbed the cane and struggled to wrench it away from him. The power surged at her, and burned her skin. She screamed and let go, but she had done enough.

Stormbringer smashed into the human's side. She heard Sebastian's ribs break and saw his face twitch, for just one second, in a grimace of pain.

Sinoval kept up the attack. Sebastian took slow, measured steps backwards, a defender's steps. Sinoval's attack was that of a warrior – aggressive, furious, strong.

But as Kats cradled her burning hands against her belly she saw that Sinoval was too wild, that he had lost the control he had always exemplified. P lease,she thought. S tay calm. Don't let him provoke you.

Then she saw Sebastian parry Stormbringer and hold it with his cane. The black blade of the pike seemed to absorb the lightning and draw it into Sinoval. She watched as his grip weakened, then she scorned her own advice and lunged forward.

It hurt to move her hands, but she had lived with pain before, far greater pain than this. She clawed at Sebastian's face, raking at his eyes, throwing her body at him. He slipped and stumbled, and his cane almost dropped from his hand.

Her momentum forced him to the floor. She swayed, but managed to stay on her feet. She stumbled back as Sinoval readied his final blow, a sideways swing that would surely break Sebastian's neck.

With inches to spare, Sebastian brought up his cane. It was less a parry than an attack on the blade of Stormbringer itself. Kats saw the ball of lightning form an instant before the strike. She doubted if Sinoval did, but he could hardly have missed the sound that accompanied the impact.

It was an awful noise: the sound of metal breaking, and a soul with it. There was a flash of light, a blur of motion, and a short, sudden pain in her stomach.

As Sinoval staggered back, seemingly blinded, she saw that Stormbringer was shattered. The piece that Sinoval still held was no longer than his arm. Sebastian leapt up and thrust forward with his cane. Sinoval tried to parry, but Stormbringer was not long enough, and he was moving too slowly, as if he were swimming in air as thick as blood.

Kats coughed, and realised that she was coughing up blood. She looked down.

And saw Stormbringer's jagged shard embedded in her stomach.

But it hadn't hurt at all, she thought dumbly as she fell forward to her knees. She managed to raise her head and look up, only to see Sinoval reeling backwards and Sebastian aiming carefully–judged blows at him. She tried to say something, but all she could do was open her mouth and cough up more blood.

The last thing she saw before she fell to the floor was something she had never realised could happen:

Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, falling on the field of battle.

* * *

Or you will die.

* * *

"No, you don't. You're offering us stagnation. You're offering us nothing, now and for eternity."

"Maybe we don't want to be perfect. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe it's our flaws that make life interesting."

"You tried to control me, that's all you did! Don't you dare try this altruistic, we've–only–got–your–best–interests–at–heart spiel on me."

"Maybe we don't need your protection."

"Well, that's a funny thing. One of your guys gave me a gift earlier. The gift of truth, I suppose it was. And it hurt. Oh God, it hurt."

"Shut up! Damn you, I've stood here and I've listened to your crap for all this time, now you can at least listen to me! Yes, the truth hurt, but I'm glad he told me, because after I stopped blaming the person I shouldn't have been blaming, I looked around.

"You sent her there to die, you self–righteous sons of bitches. You sent Delenn to Z'ha'dum to die, and you probably knew she was pregnant and you didn't care one little bit! There's your perfection for you, there's your caring and nurturing and altruism right there. When it comes down to it, you'll throw people away just because it's convenient."

"Yes, damn it, I do, but I regretted it each and every time I did it, and I never, ever sent someone to die just because it was more convenient that way."

"And Heaven forbid I have anything distracting me from that, hey? Like, I don't know, a wife and kid? I'm so sick of you and all like you trying to control me. You tried to make me turn against Delenn by giving me your truth, and for a time I did, because I was so angry I couldn't think straight! Sinoval tried to make me turn against you by mind games and parlour tricks and philosophy and I wasn't sure what to say because I had no idea what I was meant to be doing.

"For a long time I had no idea what I was meant to be fighting for, but after listening to all that crap you've spewed out, I've made up my mind.

"I'll fight for my friends, if I have any friends left. I'll fight for Delenn, if she'll even have me back, which she has no reason to. I'll fight for those who need someone to lead them who isn't a zealot like you or Sinoval.

"And I'll fight against you because you're nothing but arrogant, stuck–up, holier–than–thou puppeteers who think you've got the right to do whatever you want!"

Chapter 5

You will obey us!

"No," Sheridan replied calmly.

* * *

The Alliance had been tottering for some time before the battle at Babylon 5. Even if events had not been forced as they were, it is likely that the collapse would have happened eventually. Some authors have even maintained that the Alliance was flawed from the very beginning.

The history of the Alliance had been one long walk towards annihilation, with numerous flashpoints. The Drazi Conflict. The enslavement of the Centauri. The destruction of Narn. But the date commonly accepted as being the day the Alliance ceased to function was 20th November 2263. The day of the Battle of Babylon 5.

It was a battle fought on many fronts. Outside the station, the rag–tag fleet Primarch Sinoval had gathered fought the Vorlon forces. Inside, Marrain and the Tak'cha had managed to board the station on a 'rescue mission' that rapidly degenerated into slaughter. Sinoval faced his hunter, the Inquisitor Sebastian.

And most importantly, General Sheridan confronted the Vorlon responsible for it all. The Vorlon was only identifiable by its bone–white encounter suit, but given the Vorlons' habit of changing their encounter suits at their convenience, it is hard to be sure what part that particular creature played either before or after this event. Certainly the Vorlons liked to present themselves as a monolithic, singularly focussed group, many parts of one machine working in unison, but as even Primarch Sinoval was forced to concede, that was simply not true. It cannot be denied, however, that their reluctance to provide names makes tracking their movements difficult.

It is generally believed that the white Vorlon was one of the leaders of the High Command itself, a Light Cardinal. Whether it knew anything about the Aliens from Elsewhere, however, remains unclear.

But at that moment its attention was fixed entirely on General Sheridan, and it was that confrontation that turned the tide of the battle, even the war. It centred, as many turning points do, on an enemy making a mistake. It was a rare error for a Vorlon, but it proved telling.

If tragic.

MATEER, K. (2295) The Second Sign of the Apocalypse. Chapter 9 of The Rise

and Fall of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the

Beginning of the Third, vol. 4, The Dreaming Years. Ed: S. Barringer,

G. Boshears, A. E. Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.

* * *

"What? Doing whatever you say? Frantically trying to tidy ourselves up, hoping we won't do anything that might upset you? Living without individuality or emotion? Without choice?

"Putting it bluntly, yes, it is too much to pay."

"You don't get it, do you? You really don't. And you never will. I'm not saying we're perfect, any of us, but maybe we don't want to be."

"Maybe, but we'll better ourselves on our terms, not yours. You say you've only ever wanted what's in our best interests?"

"Then leave. Follow the Shadows and get out of our galaxy. Hell, they've left. You won. Congratulations. You don't need to stay any more."

"Really? Well, of course you'd say that. You simply can't admit that this whole thing wasn't about us at all. It was all about you beating them. You fought them for so long, and now you've won you're just sitting around wondering what to do with the rest of eternity. So, you figure, why not? Why not actually try and do something with us, just because you can.

"We're not your guinea pigs, and we're not miniature versions of you.

"At least the Shadows finally admitted it at the end. They accepted they weren't doing any good, weren't doing what they were supposed to do, and they left.

"I'm thinking they might have won after all. At least they admitted their mistake, which is more than you ever have."

There was a cold wind, a chill, icy blast through the room.

* * *

They had left eventually, all five of them. Delenn supported Kulomani as before. G'Kar carried L'Neer. Na'Toth walked ahead, alone.

The sound of fighting was very distant, far–removed from reality, but Delenn could feel it with senses more acute than the normal five. She could sense every life flickering and dying, and she wept for every one of them.

Is this the life you wanted, Sinoval? Are all these deaths your desire?

It would stop. It had to stop, and they were the ones who had to stop it.

She was not a warrior. She was a healer.

She repeated those words to herself as they walked, for each step of Kulomani's that dug into her shoulder, for each anguished breath he took, for each rasp of broken bone grating against broken bone.

She would heal him, and she would heal the Alliance.

No one challenged them. No one even saw them. When they finally arrived at Command and Control, the whole place was deserted.

"Behold chaos," Na'Toth said grimly. "They can cover the galaxy with their spies, but they can't stop their spies from fleeing or hiding."

"Actually, they can," G'Kar replied.

"Chaos creeps in everywhere, however much they try to fight it."

Delenn said nothing, but kept walking. The door slid open obediently, and she entered. There was no sign of activity. Through the observation window she could see the battle raging outside. Gently, she laid Kulomani down on a chair. He said nothing.

Picking up the hem of her skirt, careful of her injured ankle, Delenn ran to one of the control panels. She could stop this, order the Dark Stars to stop fighting, contact Sinoval. She looked at the panel and paused. She had studied the systems here. She knew them well.

And yet this.... this was completely alien to her. None of it made sense.

"None of it works," said a bitter voice from the far corner of the room. Delenn whirled. Sitting against the wall, elbows on his knees, looking tired and drained and haggard, was David Corwin.

Na'Toth moved forward instantly, knife in hand. "No!" Delenn called. "He's a friend."

"I know who he is," Na'Toth hissed. "But I cannot trust he is who my eyes say he is."

"I don't blame you," David said, rising. Delenn went to him, brushing past Na'Toth. She looked at David, and then stepped forward to hug him tightly. Her son had been named after him.

"Have you seen John?" he asked her. She stiffened, and pulled back.

"We must do this without him."

"He was.... strange. Like he was before. Distant, and angry and.... I don't know. He looked and acted more like his old self when I saw him on Minbar, but now...."

"We must do this without him," she said, more firmly.

"None of it works. Not a single thing. I've been trying to contact people, to call for help, anything, but none of it seems to work."

"There have been.... revisions to the operating system," Kulomani said. "In the interests.... of efficiency."

"The Vorlons have shut us out."

Kulomani's face twitched in a semblance of a smile. "You made me.... Commander.... of Babylon Five. I would.... have been a poor choice if I.... could be defeated by something so.... simple. Help me to my terminal."

He rose, swaying, holding tightly to the back of the chair. Delenn rushed to his side, but G'Kar was there first. Delenn watched as he made his way painfully to the Commander's terminal. He sat down awkwardly, and began.

It was then that they heard the voices.

* * *

Tirivail was dreaming.

She knew that, but she could not force herself awake. She was standing at the top of a giant mountain, looking down upon all the armies of the galaxy massed before her – awaiting her command, her leadership. The finest warriors ever assembled, and she would lead them. Her father was there, kneeling before her to accept her command.

This can be yours,said a voice at her side. She turned, and saw an ethereal being, a spirit crafted of light, attired for war. L ead them against our enemies, and all this can be yours.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The spirit became darker, lightning crackling from it. The sky turned black, the air cold.

Understanding is not required. Questions are not permitted. All that is required is order and obedience. You will obey us.

Tirivail looked down at the armies again. Her sister was there, and her father, and Sinoval, and even Kozorr. She breathed out slowly, although she knew that here she had no need to breathe at all.

"All I have ever known is order," she said calmly. "Obedience to those in command. Not to question, not to think, just to hear and to obey. I have always tried to serve to the best of my ability.

"But I was never good enough. Never. I am not worthy to lead armies, and that is not even what I want to do. You cannot give me what I want.

"I refuse."

You will obey us or you will die.

She smiled. "I am a warrior. I am not afraid to die."

The lightning thundered from the sky and tore into the ground at her feet. The spirit of light faded and a voice came, as if from elsewhere.

"At least the Shadows finally admitted it at the end. They accepted they weren't doing any good, weren't doing what they were supposed to do, and they left."

"Berevain! Berevain!"

"I'm thinking they might have won after all. At least they admitted their mistake, which is more than you ever have."

"Berevain!"

There were two voices, one nearby, one from a long way away. She could not tell which was which, but she knew someone was calling her by a name she did not know. One was speaking to her, the other was just speaking.

A third voice, one as dark and chill as the mountain itself.

"My lady!"

And then she awoke.

Memory returned in an instant. Kats, and the human Inquisitor, and the staff crackling with lightning, and the rush of force that had thrown her against the wall.

"My lady," said the voice. "You wake."

She did not know the voice any more than she knew the face. He was attired as a warrior, but in a strange, almost alien style. She blinked for a moment, and realised that it was warrior garb from a thousand years ago.

"No," he said. "Not Berevain. For a moment, I thought...." The man jumped to his feet in one lithe motion, and held out his hand to her. She backed off and rose unaided. "You are Tirivail," he said. "I remember you now."

She flinched from the anger of the voice in her mind. She looked at the warrior, but it was not he who had spoken. She doubted that any mortal being could speak with so much anger. "Who is that?" she asked him.

He looked puzzled for a moment, and then he nodded, understanding. "You can hear them too, of course. They are our ancestors, or our Gods. They are arguing in the heavens even as we wage war here."

"We have no Gods," she said bitterly. He smiled, but did not speak. "War? Kats!" She spun on her heel and ran towards the observatory. The force of the blow that had struck her had knocked her clean out of the room. Kats was there, with the Inquisitor.

She came skidding to a halt. A wall of blue force filled the doorway. Behind it she could see the silhouettes of figures moving, as if dancing, or fighting. As she reached forward the skin on her hand began to creep, and she pulled back sharply.

"A barrier," said the warrior.

"Kats is in there!"

"So is Sinoval. Whoever he fights cannot have long to endure. Your lady is safe."

"I swore to protect her! I promised his ghost I'd keep her safe!"

"She is safe, my lady Berevain. Now, we have a war to fight. Our enemies are everywhere. If we are to liberate the prisoners, we will need all the help we can get."

"We? Who is 'we'? And who are...?" One of the aliens came into view, dark blood staining his pike. She recognised a Tak'cha when she saw one, then memory returned and understanding dawned, and she realised to whom she was speaking.

"You are Marrain."

His eyes flashed. "Marrain the Betrayer, my lady."

She looked back at the wall of force, and then at Marrain. She nodded once, and then followed him away from the battle.

* * *

"Then I guess I'll die."

* * *

William Edgars had heard numerous theories about what happened when you died. There was of course the ubiquitous 'life flashing before your eyes', that single moment stretching out into years. But he had always favoured the idea of nothingness – no pain, no fear, nothing at all.

He was wrong, as he discovered.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen Death."

"I assume that word merits the capital letter. I do not disbelieve you, Senator Smith. Tell me what you have come here to tell me."

"There was a box. It was called the Apocalypse Box. It was a.... gateway of some kind, into somewhere else. Something came through. Death.

"I've seen aliens. I've been in space. I've seen and done terrible things, but nothing like that. I never used to believe in a God or the Devil, but if a Devil exists, that's it. It looked at me, and I could feel it inside my mind, examining me as if I were an insect.

"I was wondering if you knew what that thing was."

"The Apocalypse Box?"

"That was the name I knew it by."

"Four years ago our agents were excavating ancient ruins on an abandoned planet. They found various religious objects. One of them, a Mr. Eilerson, managed to decipher the symbols as the work of a cult that worshipped death, recording that death had visited them in the form of a spirit.

"After a great deal of searching they located the temple of this cult, and they found an orb there, the size of a large man's head. They brought it to me personally. I could see dark clouds hovering within it, and I could feel something not quite reaching out to me, just beyond my comprehension. I gave the orb to a colleague of mine called Morden. I didn't want the thing anywhere near me."

"Seedlings, they said. Objects planted in our galaxy through which they could return."

"I see....

"I see."

"Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these things could happen and your lords not know about it?"

"Perhaps. If Sinoval were...."

"No. He has no part of this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. They.... they are angered by the thought of his name."

"Then.... no, they will know."

"I see. Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these creatures can be defeated?"

"No."

"Nor do I. I can feel them. They touched me, and I doubt that I will ever recover. Whatever they may do to me, I am still a man, and a man pays his debts. You have been good to me, and you have helped me. I know you had your own reasons for doing that, but you helped me all the same. I am going away, but I wanted to repay my debt to you first."

"The gun?"

"You do not want to be here when they come."

"I see. Thank you, Senator Smith. I will ensure you are not delayed on your way out.

"Miss Hampton. My guest will be leaving now. Ensure that he is not detained."

"Yes, sir."

"Cancel the rest of my appointments for today."

"Yes, sir."

"And.... may I take this opportunity to thank you for all you have done for me. I appreciate it, and I know I do not say this often enough."

"Sir? Is everything all right?"

"Yes. I am fine. I just need to.... think about something."

What really happens just before you die is that one single moment of your life is replayed before your eyes.

The woman was precisely one–and–a–half inches taller than him, and perhaps a year or two older. Not a great deal, but enough for a fourteen–year–old. She was wearing the uniform and the black gloves. She fiddled nervously with her badge, trying to make it sit exactly level.

"Do you think it looks all right?" she asked.

"It looks.... fine," he said, stuttering and hesitant.

She looked at him, and his throat went dry. He had known her when they were both children, but then one day she had suddenly gone away. He had learned later that she had been taken in by Psi Corps. He had written, and she had replied.

It was the first time he had seen her in five years, and she seemed to him to be the most beautiful woman in creation.

She came slowly towards him, and he tilted his head, his heart pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. Their lips touched, and he was surprised by how soft and warm they were. He was not aware of anything else at all, nothing could have distracted him from that moment.

Then he felt it.

The merest touch at the front of his mind, like a tiny breath of wind in his face. He pulled back sharply.

"What?" she asked.

And then it hit him. She was a telepath. Everything about her.... was special. She was different – and not just different. She was better. She was superior.

She had something he would never have. She was superior to him, and she knew it.

He ran.

He just wished he could remember her name.

He just wished he had been able to apologise.

"Ah, well," he breathed, or perhaps he only thought the words.

The PPG fell from William Edgars' dead hand. His eyes were closed before it hit the floor.

* * *

We are your masters and your saviours.

The words hit them at the same time as they hit everyone else on the station, but for Sinoval and Sebastian they had a far deeper meaning. Sebastian stiffened the instant he heard them, snapping to attention with the instinct of centuries.

They were his masters, and his saviours. The words were simply accepted.

For Sinoval, lying stunned and near–comatose, the words came from a long way away, from far beyond the tidal wave of pain and shock that had swept over him. Stormbringer, his blade, the weapon into which he had poured his soul, was broken.

He had fallen on the field of battle. His weapon broken, his confidence shattered, blind and deaf and mute, he was unaware that Kats had fallen too. To him, the words that sounded in his mind were the confirmation of his defeat.

He was lost.

The words continued, Sebastian still standing stiff and to attention, Sinoval still dazed and paralysed, each man accepting them for what they were, the voice of the Vorlons triumphant and powerful.

And then came the human voice – an angry voice, furious, twisted by grief and rage. It sounded so very different from the calm precision of the Vorlon. It sounded irrational, discordant, off....

It sounded individual.

It sounded real.

It sounded free.

It sounded human.

Sebastian's face contorted into a mask of rage as he heard Sheridan shouting at his master and his saviour, daring to criticise the lord of Light, daring to oppose the reasoned logic, daring even to say that the vanquished Enemy had been triumphant....

.... had been wiser!

"What is this?" Sebastian asked. The voices continued, and he grew more and more enraged. "What is this?!"

Sinoval heard his words, but they were screamed from far away, no more real, or just as real as the others.

"This is your doing!" Sebastian roared. "This is your doing!"

Sinoval did not reply.

Nor did Kats, slumped against the wall, coughing blood and bad dreams while breathing though iron mesh.

* * *

All of them heard it. All of them saw it.

"Then I guess I'll die."

"I fear a lot of things. I'm afraid I'll never get to tell Delenn how sorry I am, or how angry I am. I'm afraid you'll carry on walking blind, destroying us all without realising it.

"And I'm afraid no one will actually learn any lessons from all this. That's the greatest weakness we 'ephemeral' beings have, you see. We don't learn from the past.

"But I'm not afraid of dying, and if the choice is death or kneeling before you and kissing your shiny encounter–suited boots, then I'd rather die."

The encounter suit opened, and the blazing light poured out.

The Vorlon spoke in a chill, precise, judicial tone.

* * *

They all saw it, and every one of them felt it.

Every single one of them died with him, for just a moment.

And then, as the pain receded, the anger began.

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Susan roared. "You son of a bitch!"

The image stopped with that awful rush of pain through her body. The words faded, along with the powerful surge of emotion that had accompanied them. The anger remained of course. That was hers, not his.

"You worthless son of a bitch!"

That is the price of receiving what you asked for,spoke the eternally level voice of Lorien in her mind.

"They killed him! Just like that! Just because he wouldn't do what they said!"

Yes, they did. That, as was once said, is the problem with mortals. They tend to die.

"How can you be so bloody smug?"

Would anger help?

"Anger always helps."

You have not been close to him for many years. Both of you are very different people from when last you met. What was he to you that you grieve so?

"Listen. This isn't grief. This is anger."

I always believed the two to be one and the same.

"Not on your life. And it doesn't matter what I thought of him. God, I knew Anna. She was my friend, and she's dead as well. And he and I.... we once.... that's not the sort of thing you.... Dammit, I want to kill every last damned one of them!"

Yes, that is anger.

"Can't you help, or were you just going to stand there mouthing platitudes?"

I have done all I can, and I think you will find it was enough for now. As you will soon see. It was a pleasure to know you, Susan Ivanova. I go now with reason to feel proud. You have exceeded my highest expectations.

"What the...? Lorien, what...?"

Time returned, and with it a pause of a single second, and then the furious, shocked voice of the outmanoeuvred white Vorlon.

* * *

She did not cry.

She had thought she would cry. This was a moment she had thought about for many years.

This was war. It was a fact of war, a necessity of war, that people died.

He had been ill, some years ago. Terminally ill. She had been prepared for his death.

She could have cried then.

But not now.

As the Blessed Delenn of Mir watched General John Sheridan die, she found she could not cry at all.

She looked around at her companions, searching for their reactions. Na'Toth still stood guard at the door, weapon ready. Kulomani was continuing to work at his console. Perhaps neither of them had seen.

G'Kar's single eye was closed, and he was muttering a prayer in his own language. L'Neer clung tightly to him, and Delenn felt an intense pang of sympathy for the child. After all she had been through recently, this must all be so bewildering for her.

"It's a lie," hissed David's voice. She turned to look at him. Angry tears were pouring down his face. "It's a lie. It's all some trick...."