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

by Gareth D. Williams

  Also, and this would be the hardest to push through what was left of the Centarum.... there were strict limits on the Centauri Republic's military capacity. There was a similar provision regarding the Narns, but their limits were much.... less confining.

  That was inevitable, really. The Centauri were to all intents and purposes the losing party in this war, and such provisions were only to be expected.

  There were no orders for payment of reparations by either side. Durano knew several bodies back home would insist on payment from the Narns, but he also knew that one was dead in the water from the start, so he had not pushed it.

  The Alliance was to convene a full and exhaustive War Crimes Tribunal into the entire affair, investigating rumours of atrocities on both sides. The former Lord–General Marrago was at the top of the list in that area, but there were some Narns named as well. The whole passage was vague and unclear, and that summed up the reason Durano did not like this treaty, not at all.

  Oh, the peace treaty was reasonable, quite fair in some respects. Had Durano negotiated the document from the very beginning, he would have been more than pleased with his efforts.

  But then came the provisions for joining the United Alliance, and everything went wrong.

  The Centauri Republic was to commit a set proportion of its military to work alongside the Alliance fleets, in whatever capacity they were necessary. Anyone in command of that fleet would be subject to the authority of the United Alliance Council and its General, John J. Sheridan, including the Lord–General himself. Indeed, based on the wording of the section, were Emperor Mollari to lead a ship to the Alliance in this way, he would be subject to the Council's authority.

  The demands on the fleet were extortionate. Durano was not a military man, but he had worked out that those demands, coupled with the limitations on military capacity, would leave many key areas barely defensible. Even the homeworld would be defended at minimum capability.

  He read on.

  The Republic was to have a permanent Ambassador placed on Kazomi 7 at all times - that would be me, Durano thought grimly. This Ambassador would have the same rights and responsibilities as all other members of the Council, and his vote - or that of his assistant were he absent for any reason - would carry the same weight as any other Council member.

  The Alliance would have free rein and free rights of transport across all worlds, stations and colonies of the Centauri Republic. All official Alliance parties would have freedom to travel anywhere in Centauri space. Alliance investigators would be dispatched to all Centauri worlds, to investigate the details of the Shadow involvement with the Centauri.

  A permanent Alliance observer would be placed on Centauri Prime and other key locations. This observer would have access to all records, papers and private meetings, however confidential. He would report directly and solely to the Alliance Council, and would not be bound by any laws of the Republic, or any authority of any individual within the Republic, up to and including the Emperor himself.

  There was more, detailing levies to be paid to the Alliance, obligations to send further military capabilities if formally requested and so forth, but most of it was irrelevant. The early passages alone were an effective acknowledgement of the slavery of every Centauri man, woman and child to the Alliance.

  Durano sat back, unable to find any loopholes. Whoever had drafted the treaty, they had known what they were doing. He was not sure if the Narn membership treaty had similar provisions, having been unable to read it.

  He had spoken to the Emperor about the effects this would have. Londo had looked at him with dark, haunted eyes.

  "Durano.... we are a defeated race. We are doomed, all of us. Sign it.... or none of us will ever see the light again."

  Durano looked up, casting his eyes around the room. The Council members were here. Almost all of them. Some of them believed the provisions were exactly what the Centauri deserved, others that they were too much. Some clearly thought they were not harsh enough.

  But which was which, that was the question.

  He remembered his earliest and most influential lessons.

  Trust no one.

  And, God is in the details.

  He signed.

  * * *

  "I cannot help you further."

  Vejar looked up at his guest, and sighed to himself. He had tried very hard to cultivate a mystique, an aura of strangeness. Here he was, alone in his darkened chamber where he cast powerful magics and sorceries and, so some probably believed, drank the blood of babies.

  Unfortunately, that mystique was ruined when people kept coming in for a talk and cup of tea all the time.

  Not that he objected to David Corwin's presence as such. Sooner or later the man was bound to work out just who had been responsible for aiding him during the battle with the Fist of Darkness. It spoke well that it was sooner rather than later. Vejar sensed Corwin could be a powerful ally.

  But he could not help now.

  "I have done all I can at this time. To act further would.... draw more attention to myself than I would like, than I can bear."

  "You helped me before."

  "I did, yes.... and I should not have done that."

  "I need to free her. I can hear her all the time. She's trapped somewhere in the heart of my ship, in constant pain, in agony, losing her mind! You can help me free her."

  "Maybe I can, maybe I cannot. We have heard whispers about the Vorlons' 'network' for some time, but its power is beyond our own. How can I say I will not kill this.... Carolyn in the process of trying to free her? How can I say this will not draw the Vorlons down upon my own head? I have no wish to die.... not yet."

  "Then you're afraid."

  "Of course I am. If you knew what I know, you would be afraid too."

  "I see. I am going to free her. You know that."

  "I know you will try. You will probably fail."

  "Well, at least I will have done something!"

  As Captain Corwin left, Vejar sighed again. He did not want to have to turn him away, but the time was not yet right. The war was not yet over. The Vorlons had not yet moved in force.

  "You're afraid."

  Vejar had power. He could cast sorceries that few could even understand. He could summon demons, hex computer systems. He could kill with a glance. He was probably the most powerful mortal being on Kazomi 7, and even the definition of mortal did not truly fit him.

  But yes, he was afraid.

  When he thought of the Vorlons, how could he not be?

  "It is easy for you to talk, Galen," he said softly. "You don't have a Vorlon only a few hundred metres above your head."

  No, but Vejar knew that that would not stop Galen even if he did.

  * * *

  True love is like any addictive drug, he had read once, in that it is boring and yet dangerous at the same time. John Sheridan had little doubt that his feelings for Delenn of Mir were true love, but while he had plenty of evidence to justify the dangerous part of it, at no time had their relationship ever been boring.

  He did love her, he knew that. He knew also that he had become something very different while he had thought her dead. It was as if he was a poor sinner who had found there was a heaven after all, only to be thrown out of it after a few, glorious months.

  And now he was doubting if he would ever see heaven again.

  He could not look at Delenn now without thinking of their son, their son who had died before he had been given even a chance at life, their son who would be the only child either of them could have. A dark rage filled him, a determination to seek only revenge. But on whom? All the people to be revenged against were gone.

  "John," Delenn said softly, and as always a tremble went through him when he heard his name spoken in her soft, beautifully accented voice. "We have to talk."

  He nodded, his throat suddenly very dry. "You're right. I'm.... I'm sorry.... the way things have been...."

  "Hard, I know. But we are together now.... and w
e may never be so again. The last battle is coming, we all know it. We have both been far too lucky thus far. We may not be lucky again."

  "Lucky?" he said with a whisper. "Good God, Delenn, how can you call what has happened to us luck?"

  "We are both still alive. We have known great love. We have known good and loyal friends. We have endured hardship and adversity and we are both still here. We have both triumphed far more than we have failed. That sounds like luck to me."

  "When you put it that way...."

  "None of us knows how much time we have, John. We must think of the present first. John.... I am sorry about our son. If there had been any other way.... but there was not. You have to believe me."

  "Sorry? Delenn.... I don't blame you." The lie burned in his throat. "I could never blame you. How could I...?"

  "Still, I am sorry, and I always will be. I think.... sometimes I wonder if there was anything else I could have done...."

  "Delenn, I don't blame you!" Each time he said it, the lie hurt more. "It is.... done. Delenn, I watched one woman I love collapse because of tragedy, and I couldn't do anything about it. I ran away from Anna because it was my way of coping with.... what happened, and because I was too busy running away I didn't see her destroying herself.

  "I was running away from you as well, Delenn. I didn't want to face.... I couldn't.... but I don't want to run away any more. I love you, Delenn. I never want to see you hurt, or upset, or in pain again. I want to protect you and keep you safe from harm, and I know I can't, and that scares me and.... I'm sorry, Delenn, I just...."

  Gently, she reached out and took his hand. Her skin felt so soft against his. "We do not have the future. We only have today. We love each other, and surely.... surely we can find a way."

  "You're always so much better at this than I am," he whispered. "How is it you're so much better at this?"

  She smiled. "I don't know," she said. "I am trembling so much I can barely stand."

  "Then sit down."

  Quietly, she sat down next to him. He put his arm around her, naturally, and held her close against him.

  Then they kissed.

  Today is all there is.

  For tomorrow we die.

  * * *

  The arguments had been long and tortuous, and had grown heated on more than one occasion. Some, like Takier, preferred to remain autonomous. The Minbari had survived for centuries without asking for help from anyone else. Why should they do so now?

  Tirivail recognised the necessity of a military alliance. The civil war had cost them all greatly, and the Minbari needed allies, there was no doubt about that. However, she questioned whether committing fully to the Alliance was necessary in itself.

  Gysiner and Chardhay, speaking, as they often did, as one, reminded the Council that the leader of the Alliance was the Blessed Delenn herself. By joining the Alliance they would in effect be making her the leader of the Minbari Federation, as she should have been so long ago.

  It was the votes of Kats and Lurna which had swung it. Takier and Tirivail had bowed, accepting defeat.

  And so it was that Kats found herself standing in the Alliance Council Chamber, looking at the diverse members of the Council. Sinoval had told her a little of his meeting with the Council almost a year ago, and already it had grown larger.

  With these people, she thought, there lies the power of half the galaxy.

  Of course an Ambassador would be needed, and that had not been fully finalised yet. Many in the Council wanted Kats herself to take on that role, arguing that she was the most suitable. She had refused, not wanting to leave Minbar, and especially not wanting to leave Kozorr. Already she missed him, her heart burning.

  But someone was needed to come to speak for the Federation in the opening meetings, to resolve the treaties and trade pacts and all the other necessities of diplomacy. Takier and Tirivail had brought the ships to aid in the final battle at Z'ha'dum, and Kats had come along as well.

  She missed Kozorr, and she remembered their final night together before she left. She also remembered their final morning, as she had awoken to see him staring at the sunrise. She had gone to him, and they had spent the morning in silence, fingers brushing, looking over the new world that they would create together.

  Then she had left, with no words spoken. None needed to be said.

  Unlike now, when many words needed to be said. A great many words.

  "Friends, Ambassadors, Council Members," she began, "as representative of the Grey Council and the Minbari Federation, it is an honour to be here, and an even greater honour to bring the Minbari Federation into the United Alliance of Races...."

  * * *

  We will send aid.

  No, none is necessary. They will fight this battle themselves.

  And if there is no battle?

  There will be, a battle of words if not of weapons. They understand now.

  They understand too much.

  The war will be won. When that is so.... their understanding will avail them little. The war was that of the Enemy. The peace will be ours.

  As you say. They will fight this last battle alone.

  * * *

  And so it was here, the largest fleet ever assembled in mortal memory. Drazi Sunhawks, Brakiri fighters, Minbari warships, Centauri and Narn fighters together, Llort, Vree, Gaim, Abbai.... and the fearsome Dark Stars.

  On the bridge of the Agamemnon, Captain David Corwin looked around at his crew, and thought of the countless thousands of lives within this fleet, many of whom would not return. There was an old phrase he had heard once, a line from a poem perhaps, relating to a terrible war on Earth over three hundred years ago.

  "When you go back, tell them of us and say, For your tomorrow, we gave our today."

  He looked down at Kazomi 7. He thought of Mary, somewhere safe from all this fighting. He thought of Lianna, and her child, forever without a father. He thought of his parents, his brothers and sisters, all long dead. He thought, strangely enough, of Bester.

  "Know what we are fighting for," he whispered.

  He did not know what everyone else was fighting for, but he did know what he was fighting for.

  The ships, as one, turned. Jump points opened, and the fleet moved for Z'ha'dum.

  * * *

  It was a dead world, at the end of space in a region filled with dead worlds.

  A thousand years ago a fleet came here, and there was bloodshed and fire and shadow, as Valen led those who followed him into the depths of Z'ha'dum. It was said he uncovered the world's greatest secret there, although none knew what that secret was, at least none who admitted to knowing.

  It was at Z'ha'dum that Marrain and Parlonn had met for the last time, in an epic duel that proved, for once and for all, which of them was better. It was there that Marrain had set a tomb for his fallen friend, and there that the seeds of his betrayal were nurtured and grew, although they had existed all along.

  That tomb had long been sought and rarely been found. There were countless catacombs beneath the barren, wasted surface of Z'ha'dum, tunnels leading into the very heart of the world, and none knew them all. Not the Heart Guards, not the Drakh magi, not the Zener Flesh–Sculptors, not even the Pale and Silent King himself. There were whispers of course, rumours of what lay below. Drakh would occasionally enter the unknown and forbidden areas seeking knowledge and understanding. Few returned.

  Less than a year ago, three mortals had travelled into the heart of the world. One had died, one had been recaptured and the third.... the third had disappeared. All three, in their own way, had discovered the greatest secret of Z'ha'dum, the one the Shadows reserved for the most trusted of their race. The Priests of the Fallen Midnight, the Heart Guards, and the Pale and Silent King. Not even the most trusted of the Drakh knew.

  At the heart of Z'ha'dum, rested the Eldest. The First of the First Ones. The Father of All Darkness. The first living being in all the galaxy to reach sentience.

  The name he chooses to us
e is Lorien, and he is not alone.

  "You do understand, don't you?"

  "Of course I do. I had.... how long.... to think about it?"

  "A year or so by your standards has passed in the world outside. A little longer in here, I believe. It has been said by many that time does not work in the same way on this world as it does on others. They may be right."

  "Time doesn't work the same way on a Monday morning as it does on a Friday night. I've had long enough."

  "This part of it will soon be over. I had.... hoped there would be some understanding by now, but it seems I was wrong. A pity. It is a terrible thing when your children fight. I had hoped for something.... more than this."

  "I'll do what I can."

  "I was not talking about you. I very much doubt you will be a disappointment to anyone."

  "Tell that to my father."

  "You know where I will send you?"

  "I know. I know who I'll meet when I get there, and what to say to him. And after that...."

  "After that.... you will be on your own."

  "I'll cope. How long will it take me to get there?"

  "Ah, time again. Not long, I believe, although whether by my standards or yours I cannot be sure. Very little in this galaxy is certain in any way."

  "Yes, whatever. I guess this is goodbye, then."

  "Yes, it is. It has been.... interesting having you here. You have a most unusual outlook on things."

  "You need to get out more if you think I'm interesting. It's been nice knowing you. We'll meet again, yes?"

  "Oh, yes. Of that, I am very sure."

  There was a blaze of light, and she was gone. The Eldest sighed and continued his long and lonely walk. Someone was waiting for him. One of those above had come to consult with him. He knew why.

  "It is a terrible thing when your children fight," he repeated to himself.

  The Shadow was there, on the precipice. It was larger by far than was usual, and the dappled grey and purple on its head bespoke its rank. Lorien rose through the mists of earth and air and appeared beside the Shadow. He did not always come when a pilgrim arrived here, but tradition was tradition, and times were changing swiftly.