A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4

by Gareth D. Williams

  He knelt down at her side and picked up a knife. It was sharp, clearly well–made, with a smear of poison on the blade. Lyndisty coughed and looked up at him. As he looked into her eyes he saw a resemblance to her father. Oh, Morden knew that the Lord–General was not her biological father, but there was a resemblance there nonetheless, regardless of genetics.

  "I know you," she whispered. "I am Lyndisty, of House Marrago. My father once had you arrested for crimes against the Emperor."

  "Yes," Morden said. "He did." He waited until Lyndisty pulled herself up to a kneeling position, admiring her strength as she did so. Then he plunged the knife into her chest. He was fairly sure the blow was a killing one, but there was no room for mistakes. So he stabbed her again, and again. With the third blow he was sure it was enough and he stepped back, dropping the dagger.

  He smiled. There was very little blood on his suit, and what there was could easily be explained away.

  He looked down at Lyndisty's body. To think, if only her true father hadn't died as he had, she would probably still be alive. It was as the Lords of Light said, as the Inquisitors taught. The sins of the father are carried down to the child.

  Morden stepped back and looked at his eternal companion. The Vorlon was pleased. It also had to leave.

  "I know what to do," Morden whispered. "I will not fail."

  There was no obvious reply to that, but he knew the Vorlon was satisfied. He watched in near–ecstasy as the glowing angel of light rose up through the ceiling. He had seen that sight countless times, and yet it always left him filled with awe. What would the sight do to the Centauri, he wondered?

  But there was too much for him to do now to worry about his Light Master. He made to leave the room and seek out the Emperor, only to stop and look back. Something.... something seemed wrong, as if there was something hidden in the room. He scanned everything he could see, and there was nothing untoward, but there was that nagging feeling....

  No. If there was anything there his Light Master would have found it. He was just paranoid. Besides, he had a lot of work to do.

  Morden left, and did not see Lennier slide out of the shadows.

  * * *

  Why did he not see me? I could feel it.

  Easy. A little trick we taught you. You just do not remember us teaching it to you.

  I'm not listening to you. I can shut you out. I can....

  No you can't, and this isn't your Keeper. I'm someone else. A friend. I've been watching you very closely. I didn't really want to have to act yet, but I couldn't risk the Vorlon finding you. The Shadow Criers either.

  Who are you?

  I told you. A friend. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember me, and it's doubtful we'll be meeting in the flesh any time soon. I just thought you should know that I'm here.

  Who are you?

  A friend, as I said. I already know your name, so it's only polite to provide you with mine. I am called Galen.

  * * *

  Warleader Na'Tok had always believed he should make a decision and stick with it. G'Sten had once told him that any leader who is talked out of a decision by his soldiers is not fit to lead.

  Still, he felt they at least deserved some explanation.

  "I will take full responsibility," he said. "I will go before the Kha'Ri and admit what I do here. None of you will be blamed, but I am the Warleader of this fleet, and until that position is taken from me, you will all obey my orders.

  "Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar said something once. Something I did not understand at the time. I am not sure I understand it now.

  "'There will come one moment in all our lives when all that is hangs in the balance, where one decision will shape not just our destiny, but the destinies of all those around us. Be sure, when that times comes, the decision you make is for the right reasons.'

  "I am sure, and as I am Warleader, that means you are all sure also."

  And with that, there was no argument. The Narn fleet set course for Centauri Prime.

  * * *

  "He is my friend, my oldest friend now. So few of us left alive. Urza, gone. Malachi, gone. And now.... Marrago. Oh, what dreams we all had as young men. We would topple the pillars of creation, walk like giants through the galaxy and leave nothing but wit and smiles and a reputation all men would envy.

  "And we were almost there. Urza, Refa, Marrago and I. Serving the Emperor, creating a better world, fighting for a noble aim. Great Maker, how did we all fall so far and so fast?

  "I am the last. A million failed promises litter my footsteps, and in my future there is nothing but sorrow. What I am about to do now.... it will take generations to put right.

  "But what choice is there?"

  "There is always a choice, Londo." The Emperor of the great and glorious Centauri Republic turned to see Morden standing at the door. The guard he had sent to find him was nearby. Morden looked very serious. There were a few spots of blood on his suit. It was remarkable the things one noticed in a crisis. "Just be sure you make the right one."

  "From what perspective, hmm? Oh, I know what choice I make now, Mr. Morden. I will not let either of us be deluded that I do this gladly."

  "You do not have to. You are an intelligent man, Londo. You can see the way things are going. There is only one real option here - many choices yes, but only one real path. Such is ambition's debt. You choose a path, follow it all your life, and then find yourself where you are now."

  "We do not have time for this. Bring your Vorlon ships here. Save this planet, and I will accede to whatever demands you make. An embassy on this planet, you as my 'advisor', secret police scouring through my people. Save Centauri Prime and I will agree to it all."

  "Details can be fixed later, but yes, an embassy will be necessary, as well as some sort of official appointment for myself. We will also need free rein to track down all those involved in this bargain with the Shadows. Naturally, the Lord–General will be placed under arrest."

  "The details can be finalised later," Londo said quickly. "But in the name of the Maker, save my world!"

  Morden smiled, a slender smile of triumph. "Already taken care of. You see, I told you we knew which path you'd take. Have a look outside, and see."

  Londo walked to the window. He could see the Shadow's creature, the abomination, high in the sky, tendrils of crimson mist seeping from it.

  Then he saw a flash of light, and something rose through the fog, moving towards the abomination.

  "That, my dear Londo, is what a Vorlon looks like. It is said that those tainted by the Shadows cannot see one in its natural form. You can see it perfectly, can't you?"

  "I can," Londo said carefully. "But I wish to all the Gods I could not."

  From the stuff of light, the Vorlon seraph formed a sword and swept towards the last of the byakheeshaggai.

  * * *

  Miraculously General Carn Mollari was still alive, although neither he nor any of his crew knew just how that could be possible. The Shadow ships moved swiftly and fired with deadly precision and power. They screamed in the dark between the stars.

  And yet the Centauri were holding their own, even beginning to fight back. Carn had an inexplicable feeling that the Shadows just did not care any more.

  And then jump points opened, and Narn ships came into view. Carn's hearts stopped in his chest, until he saw the Narns fire on the Shadows.

  And then the Vorlons swept through, and the battle was over. Not one Shadow warship escaped.

  Not one even tried.

  * * *

  For what he knew would be his last battle, the Lord–General of the great and glorious Centauri Republic employed all the precision, planning and discipline at his command. That this was on a smaller scale did not matter. That this was land instead of the more common space battles did not matter. That this was his last battle did not matter either.

  The madmen had taken a fair proportion of the palace, including the throne room. The Emperor's private chambers were secured, as were
some of the outlying annexes. It was from them that Marrago recruited such of his guards he knew to have sufficient will to remain sane, and then he began taking back the palace.

  It was a long and slow process, but slowly, room by room, wing by wing, it was being won. There had been many victories. Minister Durano had retained his sanity, but had been injured by one of the Shadow Criers. For an instant Marrago had contemplated letting him die, but now there was little point, as his secret was out. Durano had been taken to a hospital wing.

  He had also come across young Vir Cotto. Unknown to almost everyone, Marrago had been watching him in hopes of his being a worthy husband for Lyndisty. Cotto's bravery and quick thinking were proved when he managed to rescue a group of servants and courtiers and secure them in a hastily fortified guardroom.

  There were numerous other such events in one of the messiest fights Marrago had been in since chasing down groups of Narn terrorists as a young man. If anyone knew the art of guerrilla warfare, it was the Narns.

  And then he came to the throne room.

  He had expected stiff opposition here. It was after all the natural centre of the palace, and an obvious rallying point. The leader of the Shadow Criers would inevitably want the throne.

  Instead there was no one there alive, and only two bodies on the floor. One he thought he knew, but any recognition would have been of a lady before her face had been burned and mutilated, and her clothes reduced to rags.

  And then he looked at the second body.

  "Lyndisty!"

  There was nothing to say, nothing else for him to say. He had seen countless dead bodies, and he knew how to tell a corpse from one merely injured. She was dead. The stab wounds could be nothing but fatal. That did not stop him trying to seal her wounds, to breathe life back into her lungs, to start her hearts beating again. When he finally realised there was nothing he could do, he knelt there, holding her in his arms, crying her name over and over again.

  And in the back of his mind, the coldly rational part that continued thinking and reasoning throughout any ordeal, he realised that now there was truly nothing for him to live for, but yet nothing able to kill him.

  The rational part of his mind realised that was the greatest tragedy of all.

  * * *

  Lord–General Marrago did not see the God fight the demon in the skies above the capital, but many others, including the Emperor, did.

  They saw the God raise a sword crafted of pure light. They saw the demon cry out, calling hideous spider–ships from the heavens. These flew screaming over the city, countless monsters from myth and legend. The sun seemed so bright, and the Emperor had to shield his eyes as they passed overhead.

  They saw the God strike down the demon with a blow that tore it apart. With a scream, the demon died and plummeted to the earth. They saw the God raise his sword and summon a burst of light that shattered the red mist, and as the mist fell there came other Gods. Ships also came from the heavens. There were Centauri and Narns and others, ships larger and more powerful, that hunted down the demons and cast them to the earth.

  And there was one name on all lips. The name of the Gods that had saved them.

  Vorlon.

  * * *

  One of those who saw was Kiro, once Lord, almost Emperor, once a Shadow Crier, almost sane.

  He fled the palace. He fled in any direction he could, weeping tears of blood. He could see the ships of his Dark Masters, but he could not hear them. He saw his magnificent son fall in battle, but he could no longer hear him either. He saw the ships of his Masters die, one by one.

  And finally he did not care. He watched the last ship avidly, even as the last fight was fought directly above him. And when the spine of the Shadow ship was shot away and fell to the ground, he closed his eyes as its shadow engulfed him.

  His last thought was a prayer that in death he would at last find some answers.

  He did not.

  * * *

  And thus it was over. Thence came the end, or at least its beginning.

  * * *

  It was strange, but for the Emperor of the Centauri Republic, Londo did not like the throne room. Not at all. It seemed every time he set foot in it, something bad happened. When he entered the room and saw the two bodies, his oldest friend holding the body of his daughter, crying her name over and over, a part of him was not surprised.

  Marrago looked up as Londo entered, and in his eyes Londo saw not only the sheer grief, but the understanding.

  You know, he thought. Oh, my friend, I wish there were another way.

  But he said nothing. There was nothing to say. Londo moved to the throne and sat down on it. It had never been a comfortable chair, and it was even less so now. He would have given anything to be somewhere else. Anything at all.

  There was no need for reports. They had won. The Shadows had been destroyed, their creature killed. The Shadow Criers had all been killed or returned to sanity. In any event the Vorlons and their 'Inquisitors' would find any that remained. The only reports coming in were death counts and property damage and economic losses, and all these could wait.

  They arrived one by one, slowly. Durano was the first, despite carrying his arm in a sling. He walked with his usual dignified bearing, but even his fabled composure nearly broke at the sight of Lyndisty's body. Then there was Vir, numerous scratches and bruises on his face, but looking very inch a Minister. Virini came later, looking truly terrified. Carn was the last. He had to come from the Valerius of course, and he entered with a Narn wearing the formal uniform of a Warleader. That aroused some attention. Morden of course had been there all along, and he smiled and nodded at the Narn's arrival.

  Two did not show up. Timov and Lennier. Londo knew Timov was still alive, which was enough. Better by far for her not to be here. Better by far for her to pretend he did not exist. As for Lennier, it was also better for him not to be here. In his case it would be better for him to be dead.

  The bodies remained on the floor. Londo would not let the servants move them. Let everyone see the cost of this. All of them.

  He looked around at those present and drew a deep breath. He did not know what to say. No, he did know what to say. Morden would not like it, not any of it, but he had some time. Their deal had not been finalised yet, so he had some time. He was still Emperor, for now at least. There was time to prepare, time to send people away.

  "The homeworld is secure," he said, telling those gathered what they all already knew. "The threat was defeated with aid of the Vorlons and their liaison, Ambassador Morden here. The Vorlons have graciously offered us assistance in rebuilding, and for protection and so forth. To that end Ambassador Morden will receive a permanent post here, with the same status as any other Ambassador. A formal treaty will be worked out in due course.

  "We will also recommence proceedings for joining the United Alliance. The war between ourselves and the Narn Regime can, I hope, be brought to a peaceful and amicable end. Ambassador Morden assures us the Alliance will be happy to work as mediators in the peace treaty.

  "Of course we will need an embassy and diplomatic staff on Kazomi Seven. Minister Durano, you are to be our Ambassador there. Minister Cotto will serve as your second. I have the utmost faith in both of you to represent our interests fully."

  Durano bowed formally, smiling, although it was clearly a false smile. He was being moved away from the homeworld, from the Court, further from the centre of power and away from his preferred occupation. None of that mattered. If Durano stayed the Vorlons would have him killed in no time. He would not be able to work with them, not without compromising his principles. Also, he must have known of Marrago's deal with the Shadows. Morden would punish him for that. Durano was not a friend, but he was a loyal Centauri, and he deserved to be kept safe, to be able to serve the Republic.

  Then Londo looked at Marrago. His friend. One of his oldest friends. A man who had lost his daughter.

  A man who would soon lose so much more. Londo did not want to d
o this, but he had no other choice. There was nothing else.

  "Marrago." The Lord–General straightened, as if he knew what was coming. "You have been accused of bargaining with alien races hostile to the Republic, and in doing so jeopardising our situation with our allies, especially the Vorlon Empire and the United Alliance. You have been found guilty of all charges by your Emperor.

  "You are stripped of all your titles, all your estates and holdings and ranks." Londo paused. Don't hesitate now. Continue. See this through to the end. "You are also exiled from Centauri space. One space shuttle alone will be provided for you, in memory of your years of service to the Republic. If, when night falls over this palace tomorrow, you are found in any world, station or holding of the Centauri Republic, you are to be killed on sight.

  "You may leave."

  Marrago's bearing was ramrod–straight. There were unshed tears in his eyes, but he said his last words with dignity, the last thing he possessed that Londo had not taken from him.

  "As my Emperor commands."

  He turned and left. The awed crowd stood aside for him.

  Londo could not bear to look, so he shifted his gaze to Morden. He expected the 'Ambassador' to be angry about that, but if he was Morden did not show it. This was the only way. If Marrago stayed he would be interrogated, tortured and murdered. At least now he was alive. He could find something out there, something to do, someone else to serve as loyally and as well as he had served Londo.

  At least he was alive.

  "General Carn Mollari," Londo said, turning at last to his nephew. "You are promoted to Lord–General, in recognition of your valour in defending the homeworld. You have command over all the armies, navies, and warships of the Centauri Republic. Your first mission is to go to Kazomi Seven and aid the Alliance in their war with the Shadows. You are to offer the services of our fleet to the Alliance, although you will of course retain full control in matters relating to actual military deployment."

  "Funds for rebuilding will be provided from the central treasury, and of course the Vorlon High Command has graciously offered us assistance. Minister Virini. You have overall responsibility for supervising the reconstruction efforts, as well as providing for displaced persons and refugees. You will have whatever resources are necessary for those purposes.