Гэрет Уильямс - Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам

"You are gone. After tonight, the comet will pass and whatever door has opened to allow you here will be closed."

"You have my memory, and we both have tonight. We always knew we would never have eternity, but we loved in the little time we had, and before the end I found peace and acceptance and love. What more can any of us ask?"

"Tirivail…. Tirivail told me to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"She says you are not a coward."

She feels him smile. "I think she always knew that, but tell her that neither is she. It would please me if the two of you could become friends. She has a brave soul, and she will never betray you."

"I know. I know."

She feels him gently stroking the back of her neck. "What are you thinking, my lady?" he asks softly.

"That I wish time could slow, and stop, and that we could be here forever."

"And the world outside?"

"Let it burn. If I have you, then it does not matter."

"You do not mean that."

"No," she whispers. "No, I don't."

"You will leave this place, and you will return to the world outside, and you will continue with your duties and your burdens and your sorrows. But you will have tonight. You will always have tonight. What more can any of us want?"

"I don't know."

"And nor do I."

And the night drifts away slowly, one heartbeat at a time.

There is a moment, one single moment when it is possible to win people over to your will, to make them allies, or friends, or servants. Fail, and they will become detractors, foes, enemies. Moreil understood this. He had experienced that moment when he had bound the Wykhheran to his cause, and with the Zarqheba.

This Marrago understood it as well. Moreil could see it in his eyes.

"We know of you," the first Drazi said, rising angrily. "Centauri Lord-General. You lead Centauri fleets. You lead Centauri armies. This a trap!"

"I was Lord-General," Marrago replied smoothly. "Now I am nothing. I am an exile. I am like you."

"No," the Drazi said. "Not like us. Not like us at all."

Moreil looked at the Narn female. She was whispering something to her companion. Something in her eyes sparkled at Marrago's presence here. She was the true power of that pairing.

"Why do you wish to join us?" the Narn male asked. "Why do you entreat entry to the Brotherhood Without Banners?"

Marrago paused, and Moreil watched as he breathed out slowly. Everything in the room seemed to slow down. Even the Wykhheran were quiet for once. Yes, Moreil thought. This is a man who knows how to command the moment.

Do you have orders for us, lord?

Not yet. Wait, but be ready.

"My family is an ancient one, going back to the dawn of the Republic. My ancestor was ennobled by the first Emperor himself. For centuries we have stood in the shadow of the throne, protecting him who sat upon it. We have been the shield of the Republic, the sword of the Emperor. We have led the Republic's fleets and armies and soldiers into battle in the Emperor's name.

"I grew up with Emperor Mollari. He and I were friends. Together we hoped to plot a new future, a greater and finer world than we had grown up in. The high-flown dreams of youth! I guided him through the times of trouble. I placed him on that throne. I could have taken it for myself, but all those ancient vows hung over me, and I gave the throne to him.

"And where am I now? While he sits on that throne, surrounded by wealth and riches and glory, where am I? My loyalty to the Republic has cost me my daughter, my friends, and now my home.

"To hell with all of it. I will find my own way and claim my own glory. If you do not want me here, then I will find it elsewhere."

The human chuckled. "The shin bone's connected to the knee bone," he sang, as he often did. "If we don't want you here, then you won't be going anywhere else."

"You are welcome to try to stop me," Marrago said again.

"What can you offer us?" the Narn asked. "What resources do you bring?"

"I have a ship. Not as good as I'm used to perhaps, but it will do. I have a crew for it. Mercenaries, ex-soldiers, outlaws, all just like you. Also, I have a lifetime's experience of war, something that looks as though it is lacking here."

"Sounds like you want to be our leader," said the human.

"We have no leaders," said the Drazi. "No leaders."

"I don't want to lead," Marrago said. "I've had enough of shepherding people around, or holding their hair for them. All I want is somewhere to shelter, and an occasional helping hand. And I'm sure you can do with another ship and an experienced captain."

"No," the Drazi said. "Get back to your Emperor."

"It is a vote," the Narn said to him. "You know that. I think he will make a most useful addition to our…. brotherhood."

"No!" the Drazi said again. His companion nodded enthusiastically. "Never!"

"Oh, the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone," sang the human.

Warrior, you see the Drazi?

Yes, lord.

Kill him.

The Wykhheran were big, very big, over twice the size of Moreil himself, but their size was created by engineering and design, not random nature, and the Dark Masters had crafted them for speed as well as strength. The Shadow Warrior moved before anyone noticed. Certainly not the Drazi. His first realisation of his death came when the shadow fell over him.

One grasp of the Wykhheran's hand, and it was done. Where the Drazi outlaw had once been alive, now he was merely a mass of flesh and blood and bone.

Feast, Moreil said, granting permission. He looked at the faces of his fellow captains. The human was laughing, playing with his knife as always, oblivious to the trickle of blood running down his finger. The other Drazi was on his feet, his long, poisoned knife in his hand. The Narn locked his glance with Moreil's, and held it for a long time.

Finally, the Narn turned to Marrago.

"Welcome to our order," he said simply.

Marrago only nodded, not once taking his eyes off the bloodstained mess in the Shadow Warrior's fist. He did not even wince. Moreil liked that.

Courage was a rare commodity.

"It can be done. What one has done, another can do, and another. Don't you see?"

Ben Zayn folded his arms high on his chest. "He's still trapped in there, isn't he? Fine, he can move around as much as he likes, but he's still in there, not out here."

"It's a start," Talia said. "He's proved it can be done, and he isn't trapped. He's moving around, trying to contact all the other minds, trying to wake them up. It'll take time, but what doesn't? He'll have them all free soon enough."

"Alfred's an unusual man, and you know it. Perhaps unique. There aren't enough like him in there to pose a threat to the network. If it's going to be taken down, it'll have to happen out here."

"I know, but…. it's still good news. I was wondering if I would ever see him again."

"I never said it wasn't good news. So, what now? What did he tell you?"

"A little. He's still trying to navigate his way around the network. It took him a while to remember who he was. Most of them…. just forget. That's a way to try to shake them all out of it. Remind them who they are.

"There are nodes spread out all over the place. Each Dark Star has one, so do all the major planets. Kazomi Seven has a couple. They've set some up on Minbar, Centauri Prime, all over the place. And the Vorlon worlds of course. It is possible to break telepaths free from it. We need their physical bodies, and we need to convince them of who they are, that everything they're experiencing in there isn't real."

Ben Zayn nodded. "Fine, that makes sense. So, what next? Do we just carry on recruiting?"

"No, well…. if we get a chance to help someone, then yes, but we can't keep doing this forever. We have to go on the offensive. I think we should try to break someone free."

"We can't capture a Dark Star. I've seen the specs, remember. The Shadow ships tore Sanctuary apart, and the Dark Stars were built to take those things on one by one."

"No, I know we can't. Not yet, anyway — but we have to start somewhere."

"It sounds as if you have a plan. Should I be worried?"

"Possibly," Talia smiled. "It appears I have a…. friend, who has been moving up in the world since I last saw him. Plus, I have some unfinished business with IPX. I think Proxima is the place to start.

"After all, that's where I got involved in all this to begin with."

It looked human. It had the basic shape of a human, but it was a shape put together by someone who understood the basics, not the specifics. It had a cold smile, a hollowness in the face, and a perfection to the hair.

It did not move as a human would. It did not fidget or breathe or blink as a human would.

Dexter could see why Julia had called it 'it'. It looked like a human male, perhaps a little older than he was, but whatever it was, it was not human.

"Creepy, ain't it?" Zack said. Dexter did not reply. He was not listening.

It was looking at him, staring. Just staring. There was no colour in its eyes, just a deadening light.

Greetings, brother, came the voice in his mind. You came to see me, then.

"What are you?" he asked.

I can hear you like this. Better this way, don't you think? We don't want the mundanes hearing everything, do we?

You're a telepath.

I was. Now I'm something better. You can be as well. You'll enjoy it once you're here.

What are you? You aren't human.

I was human once. A human telepath. I had a name once, but that doesn't matter now. Some of us, most of us, are put inside the network, just one mind among thousands. I am one of the lucky ones. They did this to me instead. They made me special.

Why are you here?

The Corps used to have special units they called Bloodhounds. Their job was to find 'blips', telepaths who had escaped from the Corps, who refused to wear the badge and the gloves and to live by the rules.

I know what the Bloodhound units were. They took my mother.

Of course. I'm one of the new type of Bloodhounds. But I don't work for the Corps any more. I work for something far greater. We are called the Hand of the Light. Think of us as a search-and-capture unit.

What are you searching for?

Is it not obvious? Telepaths, of course. Those like us. They need more recruits. They always need more recruits. Human, Centauri, Minbari, others…. it doesn't matter. They always need more recruits. More people like us.

I'm not like you.

You are. You just won't accept it. You aren't as powerful as most of us, but power means nothing. What matters is how you use it, and that is something you know how to do. You're special. They have special plans for you.

Who are 'they'?

Names have power. Even here. The mundanes can't hear us, but you'd be surprised who could. Sinoval, for instance. If he happens to be passing by….

What does he have to do with this?

You will see, brother. You will see. You realise this cell cannot hold me forever.

It's doing a good job so far.

You think I couldn't escape if I wanted to? I wanted to speak with you, brother.

Dexter pulled back, shaking. Zack and Julia were looking at him. "Jeez, man," Zack said. "What was up with you?"

"I'm out of here," Dexter said, breathing harshly, still looking at the thing. "Double the guard on him. No, triple it. Don't let anyone in to see him, no one at all. We're leaving now."

"I'll take your word for it," Zack replied.

As he left the cell, Dexter looked back at the thing again. It was still smiling at him, a movement of the facial muscles without any of the emotional connections.

"I've got to go," Dexter said, as soon as the cell was locked.

"Where?" Julia asked.

"To talk to someone. Someone who knows an awful lot about weird things."

The day when so much changed on Centauri Prime was dark and heavy, with clouds hanging low in the sky.

It began innocuously enough. A group of farmers had arrived at the capital, assembling to appeal to the Royal Court against the increasingly heavy taxes being levied on them. Normally they would not have dared, but one of them had met Emperor Mollari during his exile on Selini. He claimed that the Emperor had promised him that he would always listen to his people.

"The Emperor will listen to us," he had told his more sceptical companions. "He doesn't understand now, but that's because he lives in a palace and not out in the country like we do. We'll talk to him, and he'll understand, and then everything will be better. You'll see."

They had been dubious, but had ultimately agreed.

None of them had been to the capital before, and its wonder had dazzled them for a moment, causing them almost to forget why they had come. A sudden rainstorm led them to seek shelter in a bar, not wanting their only fine clothes to be drenched and ruined. Several cups of cheap liquor were drunk with the aim of 'Immolan courage'.

Unfortunately it continued raining and the farmers had a little too much to drink, moving from simple courage to fearlessness. So much so that one of them started telling 'Centauri, Drazi and Narn' jokes. At the punch line to one of them, a Drazi entered.

One dressed all in black with the symbol of a lantern on his chest.

He immediately moved to the table, drew a short stick that was his only weapon, and smashed it into the centre of the table, scattering drinks, breaking glasses and destroying the table.

"Names now," he demanded.

The reply of the drunken jokester was obscene, and the Drazi looked at him, lifting the stick. Lightning seemed to crackle along it. "Sedition, unauthorised assembly, refusal to recognise authority of an Inquisitor."

The Inquisitors had not yet reached the more outlying parts of the countryside, and so the farmers had heard of them only in rumours. They were not to know that over three thousand people in the capital had disappeared at their hands, very few of them ever to be seen again.