G'Kar nodded, stepping out on to the balcony. "Indeed we do."
"You have heard, then? Ah.... are there any plans for a rescue?"
"I have as many of my Rangers as can be spared out gathering information, but they are stretched very thin. Of course, Captain Sheridan has gone to try to rescue her. I fear he may simply be throwing his life away in a foolish quest for revenge."
"How does it look out there? The galaxy, I mean. I have not been seeing as much since I took on that damned uncomfortable chair. We have been.... considerably out of touch for a long time."
"Tense. The Shadows have been moving at last, attacking Drazi and Brakiri territories. They have not moved against the Alliance directly.... yet. The Minbari.... well, they are completely falling apart . There are rumours of a civil war, even. One of their major colonies was attacked a few months ago, at the same time as.... the Battle at Epsilon Three. We have had no word from any of the prominent Minbari leaders except Delenn."
"Sinoval is here. Have you seen him?"
"No, but I knew he was here. He has requested a private appointment with me later." G'Kar shook his head sadly. "He is a very different person from the one I met at Babylon Four. Something has claimed him. He was interested in peace and unity then, but now.... I cannot be sure.
"And of course, our two races are at each other's throats.... again."
"That will end, G'Kar. And soon. I promise you. I have made approaches to your representative here.... G'Kael. He will contact his Government, and we will begin peace negotiations. The Alliance should support me in this. Both of us have lost too many to this war."
"Do you think you can get past all those who desire war? Those who cannot see beyond the cycle of hatred?"
Londo sighed, and leant on the balcony wall, looking out across the city again. "Can you, G'Kar?"
There was a long silence. "It is not easy. It never will be. For.... years we have hated your race for what you did to us, and that hatred corrupted us. I fear we now fight simply because we do not know how to stop.... but.... yes. For the good of my people, and in memory of the few good Centauri I have ever met.... I can see beyond hatred, to the needs of peace."
"I sometimes wonder if you are not right in your opinion of us. I am Centauri. I am proud of my people, and of my Republic.... but Great Maker! How much of it was built on blood? My ascension saw me swimming in it.... and I reached the throne only thanks to the machinations of a madman who would rather see everything destroyed than reach out his hand in a plea for help.
"Still.... I have seen too many of my people die not to want to end this now. There will be peace, no matter what must be given away to secure it." A faint smile touched his face. "We won't give up the homeworld, though."
"We won't give up ours," replied G'Kar, with solemnity.
Londo laughed. "We don't want it. I have never been there, but I have heard things from those who have. Hot, dry, dusty.... the air so thick you cannot breathe it...."
"Yes, Majesty. We do apologise. We should have designed our world so that you would find it more amenable."
"Hah! Humour from a Narn. Will true wonders never cease?"
"Probably not."
"Well.... I do not know about your lot, but I think I can get my army to see reason. Marrago is the Lord-General again. He is a good man, a good friend, and his soldiers almost worship him. As long as our worlds are protected he will agree to an accord, and if he does, so will his men. Of course, after the recent battle at the homeworld.... it may be harder to convince some people that we need peace. There have been cries in the Court that we should.... hah, listen to this.... sweep you all before us, and take over your homeworld. As if we were not ready to fall entirely not two months ago."
"Your victory, Mollari. It was a little.... easy, was it not?"
"Easy? I suppose. What are you getting at?"
"There were rumours in your Court.... Rumours I heard while I was there. Some of your soldiers seemed to think the battle was not won by them alone. Some seemed to say the battle was not even a victory.... but a massacre. Did events fit with your generals' assessments of how the battle would turn out?"
"No," Londo admitted. "They were predicting a bloody stand-off.... but so what if things were a little easier than that? Perhaps Marrago was merely being pessimistic. And rumours.... in the Royal Court! Bah! I would bet you a ducat to a duck that not one hundredth of them are true."
"Warleader G'Sten testified before the Kha'Ri upon his return. I managed to gain access to the report yesterday. He claimed that an alien fleet came out of nowhere and wiped out his ships. He claimed your ships did not even fire once."
"The lies of a defeated general trying to pass the blame elsewhere!"
"G'Sten is my uncle. If he says there was alien assistance.... then I believe him."
"Him over me? Who were these aliens he claimed to see? Great big flying cows? How about a herd of spoo descending from the heavens?"
"He did not see." The Narn was maintaining his calm equanimity before Londo's aggression. That only made Londo all the angrier. "His sensors could not track them clearly."
"Hah! So there are no records. He is lying, G'Kar. I know nothing about any.... mysterious alien allies come to our aid. I wish I could say I did. We need all the help we can get. But no.... I am convinced that our fleet acted alone, and yours was simply overconfident."
"I fear you blind yourself to the truth, Mollari.... but I hope you are right. I must go now. I am expecting a report from an agent in the Kha'Ri soon. I had never realised how much I would miss the Great Machine. There were times when being unable to touch, to eat, to drink.... times when I missed them all. But without it, we are all but blind and deaf in the galaxy.
"I will talk to you tomorrow, Mollari."
"Goodbye, G'Kar." Londo was still looking out across the city. He did not turn round as his friend left.
* * *
"Something's wrong."
"Well, of course something's wrong." Commander David Corwin watched as Lyta Alexander absently brushed back a lock of her hair. "The Shadows got an agent on to Kazomi Seven, kidnapped Delenn, and got her to their homeworld without anyone noticing. I think that's a fairly accurate description of something being wrong."
"That's not what I meant," he said, sighing, wondering just why he was here. He and Lyta had never really got along very well. There had been flashes of empathy over the years since she had come aboard to serve as the ship's telepath, but for the most part the two had had as little to do with each other as possible.
Still, who else was there? There had been a time when he could have confided in the Captain about everything. They had served together ever since the Battle of Mars, half a lifetime ago. But that had been before his injuries.
Corwin had not been able to take his problems or his suspicions to the Captain during his time in hospital, and.... there was just something about him now. He had obviously gone through a great deal, near-death only to be miraculously cured and have the woman he loved captured by his sworn enemies all on the same night.... It was no wonder he was distracted.
So, who else was there for him to talk to? Mary was gone. Michael was gone. He had never really had many other friends, always content with the few he had. Now most of them had gone, and he was alone.
"It's just...." he said again, struggling to find the right words. "Something just feels wrong."
"So you said."
"You know what I mean," he snapped, then immediately regretted it. "Why are we going to Z'ha'dum alone? We won't be able to fight our way through a Shadow fleet if there is one there. What does the Captain hope to do?"
"He loves Delenn, and she's a prisoner there. I think he's more than willing to fight his way through."
"And sacrifice this whole ship? I.... like Delenn as well. Oh, did I really just say that? Okay, she's Minbari, yes, and she's done a lot I can never forgive her for, but I can see that she and the Captain are in love, and he used to be happy when he was with her, and it's hard
ly for me to judge. But I can't think the Captain means to throw away this ship and everyone on it for a futile chance to rescue her.
"In fact," he continued after a pause. "I know he isn't. I've seen him angry before, and this isn't it. He doesn't want to rampage through every Shadow ship between here and Delenn. If he did, he'd at least give us a briefing on tactics, have some sort of strategy prepared. As it is.... I don't know what he's going to do when he gets to Z'ha'dum, other than pray for a miracle. Let me tell you, I've seen enough miracles happen around him, but spending every engagement praying for one isn't exactly my idea of a stress-free lifestyle."
Lyta raised an eyebrow. "You want a stress-free lifestyle? You, whom I happen to know hasn't spent a night off this ship ever since Epsilon?"
"I've had nowhere to go to but here."
She sighed. "I don't know Captain Sheridan as well as you do, but he has been through a great deal. He was in a coma for a long time, and paralysed for months. Things like that.... change someone. And then with Delenn...." She closed her eyes. "I wish I could sense her."
"You think something's wrong as well."
She shook her head. "Nothing, just headaches, bad dreams. Delenn and I have.... well, I don't think there is a word for it. An empathic connection of some kind. I can usually.... sense what she's feeling, maybe even where she is. She can do the same for me. It hasn't always been fun, let me tell you. For someone so strait-laced and innocent, you wouldn't believe some of the dreams she's been...." Corwin looked at her, and Lyta coughed.
"Well," she continued, somewhat embarrassed. "I haven't been able to sense anything. It's as if our link was just.... cut off. I'm worried."
And that's not all, she thought, casting her mind to suspicions carried but not shared, to words she could not voice. To a meeting with Ulkesh. He had ordered her to come here. The last time she had come on a mission with Corwin, Ulkesh had been furious on her return. This time he had not refused her request to go. He had actually ordered her to go.
But she could not tell Corwin that. She just couldn't.
"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," she said lamely.
"I wish I could believe you."
Yes. So do I.
* * *
"You've come down in the world a bit, haven't you?" Talia said, sitting down.
"Look who's talking." Smith sat down opposite her. She had obviously been here for a few days. There was a makeshift sleeping area, and a small portable comm unit.
She shrugged. The shadows cast by the dim torchlight made her seem harsher than she actually was. "I've been in worse. I've been in better, too. But.... this is the sort of place my job takes me."
"Your job. Yes.... professional saboteur?"
"You know that's not fair," she snapped. "Certain.... very powerful people wanted the war with the Minbari.... delayed, if not stopped. I was placed on the Babylon to try to accomplish that. I wasn't going to hurt anyone."
"Oh. You had a conscience?"
"Not really. It just wasn't part of my job."
"So, what job brought you here?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Don't then." He sat back, and sighed. "You know you won't get out of Sector Three-o-one without my help, don't you?"
"There are ways."
"They obviously haven't worked, or you wouldn't still be here. I managed to overhear a warning announcement that you were wanted for.... what was it? Treason against the Government, I remember, and that you were armed and dangerous." He smiled. "That last is certainly the truth."
"Thanks," she replied dryly. "So what are you here for?"
"I got a little too close to someone who really doesn't like to be crossed. One of his men attacked me in a bar, we fought.... I ended up killing him."
"Ah.... That someone.... it wouldn't be a Mr. Trace, would it?"
"Now, I know you weren't reading my mind. I'd have felt it. Lucky guess?"
"More or less. I had a run-in with him as well. He's got my partner. He's.... involved with something very serious, very high-ranking."
"He's got high-ranking friends in Main Dome, I know that."
"I'd place a bet on IPX. We were investigating them when he jumped us."
"So what are IPX up to?"
She frowned. "I don't know exactly, but our people are involved."
"Our people?"
"Telepaths. You're one, too. Don't try to deny it."
"My mother was a telepath. I'm not. I can't read minds. I just.... get certain hunches from time to time. And I can tell when someone's trying to read my mind. A bit of other stuff. I'm no telepath."
"That's enough to make you one of us. We can help you."
"Yeah?" he snapped. "I saw how you tried to help my mother. I'll pass, thanks."
She shrugged. "Time was, you wouldn't have had an option. Oh well. Why are you here?"
"It's a good place to hide and lie low, until I figure whether Security really are going to be after me."
"Not what I meant, sorry. Why are you taking on Trace? I was sent here, and he's hurting people like us. I have to protect them. But why you? For that matter, why are you even in Sector Three-o-one? Was there nowhere else you could have gone?"
"No, there were plenty of places I could have gone after I left Earthforce. Job offers left, right and centre. I couldn't take them, though. I couldn't be their fabled hero. Because it was all a lie. I saw too much, did too much. I've been a soldier almost all my life, and.... it was the wrong choice, I think. I spent all the war trying to live up to another man, and I couldn't.
"So I came back here. It was my home once.... of a sort. Not much has changed, to be honest. But Trace is abusing these people here. Most of them don't have a choice about living here. No one cares. No one looks after them. Security's corrupt, Trace owns all the local politicians and councillors.
"Someone has to do something."
"A regular philanthropist."
"Not really. I've spent over a year and a half trying to save the world and protect the galaxy. I'm not the right person to do that. Ah, but here.... small victories are every bit as important as big ones. I might not be able to save Proxima, but perhaps I can save the Pit."
She leant forward, her eyes shining. "I've been toying with a couple of ideas recently," she said. "I could use some help, though."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Trace. I find out what he's up to with IPX. You find some way to expose the corruption and help the people here."
"So, you're willing to work with me, instead of beating me up?"
She shrugged. "One of the first lessons I learned from the Corps was knowing when to ask for help."
"Fine. I'll admit I could use some. So, what did you have in mind?"
She told him.
* * *
No matter how fast she ran, they seemed to be gaining on her.
Her breath was searing her throat, her lungs were burning, her legs weakening. Only sheer terror kept her going.
"You promised me I'd be safe," she gasped, hoarse. She looked up and saw him there. He had promised her, all those years ago.
"What do you want?" he had asked her. "To be safe," she had replied.
They were just behind her now. They had a syringe. She knew what was in it. It was the sleepers. They would inject her with it, and her soul would die and she would become nothing more than a zombie. She had seen it happen to her mother.
She tripped and fell. As she tried to scramble to her feet, she saw him standing there. "You promised I'd be safe!" she cried.
"We don't need to keep our promises to such as you," replied Ambassador David Sheridan. "You failed us. They can take you now." He turned and walked away.
"No!" she cried. "You promised...."
They were there. Huge figures, massively taller than her. Their faces were twisted and monstrous, leering at her. They all held the syringes in their gloved hands. The badges on their chests seemed to glow at her.
"Let me," said another v
oice, and she cried out. It was her. Lyta Alexander. She had.... burned her mind. She had been there when Marcus had died. Marcus had loved her.
"Help me!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "You promised I'd be safe! Marcus, help me!"
"Marcus can't help you," said Lyta. "He's with me now. You killed him, remember."
"No! I didn't mean to."
"But you did. He doesn't love you any more. He's with me."
"Help me!" she cried again. "Someone help me!"
There was a brilliant flash of light, bright and dazzling. All the Psi Cops screamed and turned away. Lyta hissed, and fell. An instant later, they were all gone.
"Who are you?" said a voice she did not recognise. "What do you want?" She stiffened as she heard that question. "Why are you here? Why did you seek me out?"
"Who are you?" she asked softly.
"A friend," said the voice. It sounded.... old, and full of wisdom. It reminded her of her great-grandfather, who had died when she was a little girl. He had known everything, in her childish eyes. This voice sounded so much like him. "I heard your pain. You have been here before, haven't you? I.... remember."
"I'm Susan," she said softly.
"Yes," the voice said with satisfaction. "Of course you are. You are not of them, are you?"
"Them?"
"The Shadows."
"No. I don't think so. I used to be, but...."
"Ah. I see. Come and find me, Susan. Bring your friends. There are others here who have bad dreams. Dreams are the wishes our souls make when we are dead to the world. They are.... images of things long lost, and things never to be, and things we fear. I have seen all their dreams.
"Bring them to me. It will be good to have someone to speak to, after so long."
"Where are you?"
"I am here. You will know where to go."
"But...."
The dream ended, and Susan woke up. After shaking away the cold dust of her slumber, she suddenly realised she knew two things. First, that Lyta Alexander was coming to Z'ha'dum, and second, that she should go and talk to Delenn.
* * *
Mr. Trace was, generally speaking, a contented man. Life was good for him at the moment. He had a thriving business, very powerful friends, women throwing themselves at him, a file of all sorts of information that could prove valuable, and more money than most people could even dream of.
A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4 Page 9