The light soon faded, but Corwin's attention was quickly drawn away from the unusual phenomenon, as he mentally filed it at the top of a very long list of unusual phenomena.
"Captain," said the tech. "Something.... something's happened."
"What?"
"The Earthforce ships.... they've.... stopped."
"Stopped what?"
"No, Captain. Just stopped dead. They're not moving, not powering weapons. Nothing. The De'Molay and the Dark Thunder might as well be floating hulks. The Morningstar is just turning in circles, and the Saint–Germain looks to be operating at about quarter–strength."
"What about the Shadow ships?"
"Some are paralysed, a few others are moving sluggishly. Some of them are still advancing."
"He knew this would be too easy," muttered Corwin. "Whatever's happened.... he knew about it."
"Sorry, Captain? What are your orders?"
"Hit the Shadow ships that are still moving. Do not fire on Earthforce ships unless they pose a threat to us."
"Aye, sir."
Corwin sat back, feeling something throbbing beneath him, above him, all around him. He did not know what had happened, but he had a very uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling.
For one brief instant he thought he heard a scream, coming from somewhere far, far away.
* * *
In a place far from the fates of men and nations being decided at Proxima, Sinoval, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, was talking to people who had been dead for ten centuries.
"I wonder if he understood," he was saying, walking slowly around the first Hall of the Grey Council. Memories of the terrible bloodshed and torture that had occurred in the second Hall still touched him, as did the vision of his death in this place. He was thinking about Kats, and her part in his vision.
He was thinking about Sonovar.
"I wonder if he understood why they betrayed him. I would think not. Marrain and Parlonn were warriors, raised in a different culture, a different world from him. I have no idea what the Vorlons put into his mind, but hypnosis, subliminal influence, years of lessons.... all of these are no match for a lifetime of training. Marrain and Parlonn were born warriors, in the days when the word meant something, when you served your lord unto death, to the last breath, to the last whisper.
"Whatever else Valen was, he could not be a warrior like that. The histories show it. He abolished the Morr'dechai, elevated the workers, ended the rite of denn'cha. His coming was a hurricane of change. And still.... I wonder if he truly understood why they betrayed him. I certainly did not know why I was betrayed.
"Until now, anyway.
"Love is a strange thing, would you not agree? I have never understood it myself, but then I am told that those who have experienced it themselves rarely understand it either. Hatred is something I do understand, all too well. That is where Valen mis–stepped. He understood love, but not hatred.... and it doomed him. It also doomed Marrain and Parlonn."
Stormbringer tapped slowly against the side of his leg as he walked around the circle. "How many of you understood? How many of my Grey Council would understand? The religious caste have always made a show of not understanding, and claiming that they are wiser in doing so than are we who claim to comprehend. It is possible they are right, although this is the first time I have ever accepted that as a possibility."
Slowly, he walked into the centre of the circle. The ghosts of nine Councillors watched him with silent eyes.
And one moment later, one of the columns was no longer occupied by a ghost of the past, but by a harbinger of the future. And then another. And another. And another.
And that was all.
Eyes darkening, Sinoval glanced quickly around the circle. Four. Only four. He could not see Kats' body, and that was welcome. Maybe Lanniel and the others had managed to save her. He hoped so.
But then he could not see Sonovar either. Or Kozorr.
He did not like this. He had seen the future, and known it for what it was. Had his careful manipulations come to nothing, or was this just a simple.... flux?
"I was expecting more of you," he said softly.
"We will be enough," said the first warrior. He recognised her, although by reputation only. Lanniel's sister, the daughter of Takier of the Storm Dancers clan. Tirivail, that was her name. Takier had been the most influential surviving lord to ally with Sonovar. He was not here either.
"Where is Sonovar?"
"Lord Sonovar thought this beneath his attention."
Now Sinoval was confused. His careful efforts to force the truth of his vision did not seem to have worked. Or maybe they had been about to.... and someone, or something else had interfered.
"And Kozorr?" he asked, casually.
Tirivail extended her pike. "No more words," she said.
They charged forward. The columns of light went out.
* * *
"Scorched Earth." Welles laughed, a sound entirely devoid of humour. "Scorched Earth, but who's going to do the scorching, hmm? Him, or you?"
David Sheridan did not reply. He was still holding the piece of paper in his hand, looking at it, trying to think. The Vorlons were based in the IPX headquarters. If the building could be destroyed, then so would they. And Clark if he was there.
But what was their plan? They couldn't do this directly. They would want to blame the Shadows for this. For one terrible moment, Sheridan wondered if he had not done exactly what Clark had wanted. The destruction of an entire dome at the hands of the Shadows would be a powerful tool.
But then he calmed himself. No. Clark had said humanity needed to be taught a lesson, as a punishment for choosing the wrong side. There had been something in his words that had implied.... more....
Much more.
"Scorched Earth," Welles said again.
"Will you stop staying that?" snapped Sheridan. "Do you have any idea what it means, or are you just trying to drive me crazy?"
"It's.... I don't know. It's a bit familiar. Clark's.... what is Clark up to?"
"He and the Vorlons want to punish humanity. They want to teach us all a lesson for choosing the Shadows instead of them."
"I wasn't aware we had a choice."
"Then you try explaining that to them. The Vorlons don't care about fair. They only care about what's right.... what's right by their twisted logic anyway. Anyway, they were going to punish humanity, and try to blame it on us."
"How long do you think they have had control of Clark?"
"A few years at least. I've been noticing.... unusual behaviour in him for a while, things that weren't connected to.... what we were doing to him. He was obsessed with Sinoval, if you remember, and eager to push for war with the Alliance, to bring things to this point."
"The Alliance, yes. This timing can't be a coincidence. The attack on Proxima was rushed. He wanted it to happen now. Just when he was ready. The attack is a distraction, something to draw all the Shadow ships away, all our ships away.
"Why?
"Because what he's doing is going to be public, and not instantaneous. There would be time for someone to stop it, if they weren't distracted." Sheridan started, and Welles smiled. "Clark isn't going to lay the blame on the Shadows. You're an abstract. This isn't about you, or me, or the Alliance. It's about the man in the street, and to him the Shadows are just our alien protectors, powerful, but distant. How many of them have even seen a Shadow?
"But Clark.... He's real. He's known, and he's our leader, someone who's been behind the alliance with the Shadows from day one. He's going to take all the blame on himself, and he's left that note as proof.
"He's going to turn the defence grid inwards. To the planet."
"They wouldn't," Sheridan breathed.
"If what you've told me is true.... then they definitely would. They...." Welles stopped, and paused.
There was a sudden shriek, and the air around them shimmered. The remaining Shadow flickered into view, screaming alien sounds, its alien body th
rashing. Sheridan stumbled, moaning, pain tearing through his mind. He shrank to his knees as the Shadow fell, bone and joint torn apart.
Welles went to Sheridan's side and helped him up.
"I think we'd better hurry," he said, his voice deadly serious.
* * *
To His Most August Majesty Emperor Mollari II of the Centauri Republic, Keeper of the Four Gates of the Temple, Master of the Starless Sky, Bearer of the Purple Shroud;
From the Council of the United Alliance of Kazomi Seven, authorised by Ministers Lethke zum Bartrando, Kullenbrok, Taan Churok, Vizhak, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, and, in absentia, Captain John Sheridan.
Evidence has reached this Council of an alliance between the military forces of the Centauri Republic and the race of First Ones called the Shadows, with whom we are currently at war. We have studied this evidence in some detail and found it to be entirely convincing. We therefore have no hesitation in dismissing your application for a Centauri embassy on Kazomi Seven.
In addition, all ambassadorial staff on Kazomi Seven have been exiled. No Centauri trading vessels, military ships or diplomatic envoys will be permitted to pass through space controlled by the Alliance or any of our races. Any ships that break this blockade will be fired upon.
Furthermore, should the Centauri Republic employ the assistance of the Shadows in any further engagements with the Narn Regime, we will come instantly to the defence of the Narn Regime and assist them against you in any way possible. Any Centauri assault on Alliance ships, stations or territories will be considered an act of war.
If you can provide conclusive proof before this body that your alliance with the Shadows is over and permit such observations and investigations as are necessary to confirm this, and agree to a substantial Alliance military presence in Centauri space and certain restrictions on the size and use of the Centauri military, we will end the blockade and exile and resume diplomatic relations.
Signed and authorised this day by the members of the Council of the United Alliance of Kazomi Seven.
The more Londo read the contents of the message, the less he believed them. What were they thinking? He looked at the names at the top of the page and found it impossible to credit that any of them could have written that. By the Maker, he had helped rebuild Kazomi 7 after the Drakh invasion. He had promised any assistance they might require as soon as he was in a position to give it. He had been one of their most loyal supporters.
And now this. Lethke, Vizhak, G'Kar! That they would believe.... this! That he would make a deal with....
He had been one of the first of G'Kar's Rangers. His bodyguard was one of G'Kar's Rangers.
He had known anger in his life. He had known sorrow and loss and determination to do what must be done. He had never known all four simultaneously, as he did now.
Lethke's face appeared on the viewscreen. Finally.
"Emperor Mollari," the Brakiri said. "This is.... not a good moment."
"Not a good moment?" Londo replied. "Not a good moment?" He held up the message, the contents of the diplomatic pouch. "Tell me, Lethke, when would be a good moment for all my friends to turn on me?"
"Emperor Mollari, we have seen...."
"You have seen? Oh well, then everything is all right! Yes, you have seen some pathetic amateur forgery created by the people we are at war with, and that is enough to convince you to turn against me! How long have we known each other, Lethke? How long have G'Kar and I been working together against the Shadows?
"By the Great Maker, do you honestly think I would authorise something like this?"
"The evidence is.... irrefutable, Emperor Mollari," Lethke replied uncomfortably. "It is not a fake, not a forgery. The Shadows assisted your ships in a battle against the Narns."
"It is a lie!"
"It is no lie."
"I saw what their servants did at Kazomi Seven. Do you think I would...?"
"What I think does not matter. I am one voice among many. We are at war with the Shadows, and that war will continue until they are destroyed and gone. By whatever Gods you worship, please.... don't make us go to war with you as well."
"War? Why not, Lethke? Join with your good friends the Narns and come and invade us. We have the homeworld left, you know. And maybe Immolan. Perhaps a few other worlds you can divide up between yourself and the Narns."
"That is unjustified."
"And this is not?! We are a free and sovereign race. We have made no deals with the Shadows, and any evidence that says otherwise is a lie. If any Alliance ships come into our space, we will not hesitate to deal with them, understand? We have fought the Narns for long enough. We will fight you as well if we have to."
"You know our conditions, Emperor Mollari. Do not talk to me again unless you are willing to agree to them." The screen went blank and Londo let out a great roar of anger and fury. He staggered away from it and hurled the diplomatic pouch into the far corner of the room. Moving swiftly, a shadow emerging from the darkness, Lennier stepped into view and caught it effortlessly.
Londo frequently forgot his bodyguard was there. Lennier was developing a habit of not being noticed.
"You heard all that?" Lennier nodded. "Once word gets out, and it will.... it may not be.... safe for you to be here. Perhaps you should go back to Kazomi Seven. I will have to expel all Alliance personnel from our space anyway. I can do no less in view of their actions. I would rather you left.... voluntarily."
Slowly, silently, Lennier removed his sunburst badge and laid it on a table. "I am your bodyguard," he said with absolute conviction. "I would not be doing my duty if I abandoned you in a moment of difficulty."
"Then you believe me? I swear I did not do what they think I did."
"I believe you."
Londo smiled. "I thank the Maker someone does! When is Marrago due back from Tolonius? I would not be surprised if you were present when he contacted me."
"I believe he said.... before nineteen hundred hours tonight. He was going to be leaving your nephew in charge of the area and returning here to provide a full briefing."
"Good. I will have to contact him and let him know I am calling a full meeting of the Government. I do not like the way this is developing. Someone.... someone is playing a very large trick on us, and when I find out who...."
Londo suddenly stopped, and looked at his companion. "Do you know, I have not heard you speak so much in months?"
Lennier smiled and bowed his head. Londo laughed, but it was one laugh, and no more.
* * *
Trace was not sure of the exact moment he realised everything was truly over, the instant he discovered at last that his mysterious patron had his own agenda. It did not really matter. He had risen this far not through the efforts of others, but by his own will.
"There is one thing that makes us winners," he said slowly. "It isn't talent. It isn't strength, or intelligence, or guts. It's the willpower to do what the other guys won't."
He was not sure exactly who he was speaking to. There was no one here who was not dead or unconscious. The crowd had fled as soon as news had come of the attack. How it had got here Trace did not know, but he was willing to believe in primaeval instincts of survival. He had always trusted his instincts.
Plus, of course, everyone had fled to escape from the place where Delenn had died. Their guilt and horror had been clear in all their eyes, even the eyes of people Trace had thought he could have trusted. They had come here hoping to execute an alien freak war criminal and murderess and instead they had found.... something else.
Trace looked at Delenn's still body. There was.... peace there. Her dying expression had been one of acceptance. He chuckled. She could be as peaceful and accepting as she liked. She was still dead. He spat on her and walked slowly over to the far wall, leaning against it, arms folded.
People didn't understand. They just didn't understand anything. People were stupid, that was their problem. They saw what they wanted to see, and when they were confronted with the truth
their minds became a little.... dazed. They had always thought of Delenn as one thing, but then they had seen her as something else, and they weren't sure which was true. The attack had distracted them from thinking about this, but in the next few days a consensus of sorts would be reached. Delenn would either be a murderous war criminal justly killed by a righteous population or a near–saint murdered by callous, unfeeling monsters.
Trace chuckled again. The final decision would be reached by following the lead from above, and for these people, that meant him. Assuming he survived all this, and he had every confidence in Earthforce's ships, he would ensure which judgement prevailed.
It wasn't as if he even cared about Delenn one way or the other. She was a political tool of the leaders, and a woman mildly pretty in an alien sort of way, and that was that. He had only got involved with this to prove a point, to justify his own beliefs about humanity.
Oh, yes.... and for one other reason.
He looked over at Smith. He was still out. Trace really hoped he would wake up soon. Smith had interfered in his business, broken into his property, killed Nelson. Now Nelson had been a true friend. He would never have run away to some antiquated shelter to hide from the sky, like these idiots Trace had working for him these days.
But more than that, Smith believed there was something good and selfless in humanity. Trace had just proven him wrong, and himself right, and if there was one thing Mr. Trace wanted, it was always to be right.
Smith moved and coughed, turning over. He had taken a nasty blow to the head, painful yes, but nowhere near fatal.
Yet. Trace moved forward and waited until Smith raised himself to his knees. His foot came down hard on Smith's back. Smith fell and rolled over, looking up with gummed–up eyes, seeing through a maze of stars and dots and memories.
A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4 Page 45