Читать интересную книгу Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке - Гэрет Уильямс

After that, matters became a little vague. Some believed that the Emperor took counsel not only from his near-invisible Minbari bodyguard, but from his wife Timov as well. This was patently absurd, as no Emperor would ever give a woman such a position of authority, but the rumours persisted.

About one person however, all the rumours were silent. Despite his very public assistance in saving the Emperor from an assassination attempt, and his frequent presence at Court, Mr. Morden had managed to pass virtually unnoticed by the cream of Centauri society. Everyone seemed just to…. forget he was there, and if reminded they replied with something like, "Oh yes, that human fellow," and then absently changed the subject.

The true extent of the influence wielded by Mr. Morden was known to absolutely no one.

"Have you had a chance to consider my offer, Majesty?" he asked.

Londo looked harassed and tired. Unsurprising, as he had hardly slept in days. The Narns were coming. They could be driven off and Centauri Prime saved, but at a truly terrible cost. More bloodshed, more death, and could it be avoided?

Had there been another way? Could he have acted sooner, done a little more? Done anything that could have averted this battle?

"Mr. Morden," he said slowly. "I have spoken with my advisors. Some argue to accept your offer, some to refuse, others to wait. Their arguments are all valid. We cannot go to races on bended knees, binding ourselves to agreements that may cripple us later. We should be wary of accepting offers from races we hardly know. Can we trust you? Do we even need your help?

"I have heard them all, Mr. Morden, and there was not one word spoken in that chamber that I disagreed with."

Morden began to speak, but Londo raised his hand and the human fell silent.

"But today, I wandered around the barracks of the soldiers who will be defending this world from the Narns. I spoke with the captains of the ships in orbit above us now. I even visited some of their families.

"Mr. Morden, if your allies can help save the lives of my people, then yes, I accept your offer."

Londo noticed the slightly guilty look on the human's face.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Majesty, but I'm afraid matters are a little more complicated than I had first believed. You know, of course of the race called the Shadows?" Londo nodded, a puzzled expression spreading across his face. "The Vorlons have opposed the Shadows for centuries, trying to destroy their evil. Somehow, the Shadows have influenced people here…. these Shadow Criers are touched by the Darkness."

"Yes, we had guessed this. Some sort of psychic influence, we supposed."

"Indeed. Your people are highly susceptible to certain telepathic impressions. Your Seeresses for example…. but I am digressing. I have discovered recently that their influence reaches higher than we had thought. Someone in this Court has been communicating with Z'ha'dum."

"What? Are you accusing…?"

"I am merely saying what we know to be true," he interrupted. "My associates are reluctant to come to the aid of people who may be working with the Enemy. You can…. understand their doubts, of course."

"Of course, but…. Mr. Morden, are you telling me the Vorlons will not come to our aid when the Narns attack?"

"I am afraid my associates will only aid you if you purge this evil from your Government, Majesty. If you can find this…. infiltrator before the Narns arrive, then…."

"We have hours at most, Mr. Morden."

"I am sorry, Majesty. I merely relay my instructions from my associates."

"I will find this…. Shadow agent, Mr. Morden, and I will purge him, as you put it, but for every Centauri life laid down to protect our homeworld I will hold your masters to account. We share the same enemy, and when I find their agent I will take action, but for our sake, not yours.

"Good day, Mr. Morden," he hissed. The Emperor turned and stormed from the room.

The Narn fleets were getting closer.

* * *

The Sunhawk exploded in one terrifying instant of destruction as its telepath failed, allowing the Shadow ship to fire. Its supporting ships fell back before the onslaught, but the Babylon kept moving forward. On board, Lyta Alexander strained to hold them still.

The Babylon fired broadsides at the nearest ship. The single remaining Brakiri warship concentrated its fire on the same area, and one of the Shadow vessel's spidery limbs was blown away. The ship screamed in pain and loss, and everyone on board the Babylon briefly heard their ship scream too, as if in sympathy for the pain it was meting out.

The second ship swooped down to aid its wounded comrade, but Sunhawks dived in to block it, raining ineffectual blows upon its skin, seeking only to force it backwards, away from its brother ship.

The Babylon and the Brakiri continued their barrage of blows, striking at limbs and body. The trapped ship was screaming as it withered before the attack. It began to spin aimlessly, its limbs severed.

The second ship swatted aside the irritating insects that were the Drazi and tried to free its brother, but it was too late. The wounded ship was torn apart, too badly damaged to survive.

The remaining ship rose briefly above the Babylon. Lyta tried to reach out with her mind to trap it, but she was too drained. It was all she could do to remain standing.

The ship spoke in her mind, and a brilliant light filled her soul. She collapsed unconscious.

The Shadow ship shimmered into hyperspace and disappeared.

"I think we did it," muttered Corwin, looking up from his instruments and turning towards the shivering Lyta.

"Yes," said Delenn softly, cradling her friend's head gently. Lyta's eyes were rolled up into her head, and soft tears of blood were trickling down her face. "Yes, we did it…. but at what cost, Commander Corwin?"

He could not answer. In his mind's eye he could see the destroyed ships and the bodies of the dead, and he just could not answer.

* * *

The post of Security Chief for Sector 301 in the Main Dome of Proxima 3 was generally regarded as being a career death sentence. The task was impossible, and everyone knew it. The only security officers assigned there were the corrupt, the embarrassing or the terminally inept. Crime was so ingrained into the whole area that trying to fight it was as futile as trying to hold back the sun. It was widely speculated that two-thirds of the force was corrupt.

It was not that the Government in Main Dome hadn't tried. During the early 2240s two of the youngest, keenest and best Security officers were posted as Chiefs of Sector 301 to sort the area out, clean it up and purge corruption in the security forces. One was assassinated three weeks into the post, the other was shot and killed during a routine operation when her PPG inexplicably failed. It was discovered later that the weapons issued to the security forces in 301 were of sub-standard, inferior quality, the better weapons having been sold to the mob bosses by corrupt quartermasters.

Main Dome had been determined to keep on trying, but then the war had come, and suddenly Sector 301 wasn't very important any more. It became much more important after the fall of Orion, when the bulk of the refugees swarming to Proxima from Orion and the rest of the devastated Belt Alliance settled there. A few months after that the area was thick with the starving, the sick and the dying, and any hope of redeeming the sector had evaporated.

The early years of the Clark regime had seen some hope for the renovation of the area, but these had faded once it became clear that the new President had his eye on wider fields than his own back yard.

And so Sector 301 just slid deeper and deeper into corruption and depravity and depression. That suited its current Security Chief just fine. It fitted his mood.

Zack Allan leant back on his chair and tried flicking a small piece of chocolate up into his mouth. He had balanced it on his thumb carefully, lined it up to perfection, had his mouth open as wide as he could…. and he flicked.

The chocolate bounced off his cheek and fell on the floor. He swore angrily, and decided against rummaging around underneath his desk to look for it. There were probably entire ecosystems down there he was not aware of. Possibly even Governments.

And that had been his last piece as well. Damn!

Chocolate was expensive these days on Proxima. Very expensive. Oh, there was some Narn substitute stuff, but that tasted like wet cardboard. Only the very rich could afford proper honest-to-God milk chocolate in these times, and while Zack's official salary didn't come anywhere close, there were a number of very rich people interested in him turning a blind eye to certain activities they were up to in 301. They were also willing to double his wage for the privilege, so he wasn't going to ask any questions.

He yawned, stretched and switched on the vidscreen. The next game in the 2260/61 baseball season was on, the first new season since the war. The teams were all different of course, but it was still proper sport. The Proxima Swashbucklers had a game on against their nearest competitors, the Orion Archers (based somewhere in Beta Durani). Zack had fifty credits riding on the game.

His link beeped and he muttered something angrily. He could have sworn he'd switched the thing off. "Yeah, what is it?" he asked.

"Someone's here to see you, Chief."

That made him sit bolt upright. Nobody came to the office of the Chief of Security in 301 unless they were asking to be beaten up by all their neighbours. "Is it any of the…. uh…. usual suspects?" Careful phrasing was necessary. He was not supposed to know the names of most of the people he…. 'dealt' with, and while it was unusual for any of them to turn up in person to his office, it wasn't unheard of.

"Ah, no, Chief. Just some guy."

"Jack, don't do that to me! Sheesh! Look, the big game's starting any minute now, so tell him to go away and take it up with Central Office."

"He…. he wants to see you personally, Chief. Says his name is Dexter Smith. It rings sort of a bell. He looks a bit familiar, too. Like he should be wearing a uniform or something."

"Dexter Smith. Dexter Smith…. I've heard that name before. Um…." His eyes widened. "Captain Dexter Smith? The Babylon. The guy who got the Silver Star for Valour last year some time."

"That's the guy! Damn! I knew I'd seen him somewhere before. Hey, my daughter's got a picture of him up on her wall. Wonder if I can get his autograph for her?"

"Leave that for later, Jack. You'd better send him in. I know Captain Smith. We're old, old friends, we are."

"Right you are, Chief. Yeesh, she's going to be so excited when I tell her who I saw. She might even start respecting me a little…."

"In your dreams, Jack."

The conversation ended, and a moment later, a figure came through the door. It took a moment for Zack to recognise this person as the Captain Smith he had known two years ago. The loss of a uniform did do a lot.

"Well, Captain," he said smiling, leaning back in his chair. "How are you these days? Bit of a come-down in the world, isn't it? Rubbing shoulders with the President one minute, the next slumming it down in the Pit. Well, easy come, easy go, right?"

Smith's eyes narrowed. "Ah. Zack Allan. I didn't know you were Security Chief here."

"Well, it didn't match up to my former standard of Security Chief on humanity's flagship, but you've got to take what you can get. My CV was pretty impressive, but the new boss wasn't too impressed."

"That is an old argument, Mr. Allan. I gave you my reasons when I took over the Babylon. May I sit down?"

"Yeah, sure. Watch out though, I think there's some left-over pizza on that chair there." Smith looked at it, frowned, and then decided to remain standing. "So, Mr. Smith, what brings you to my little corner of the universe? You haven't come to get me fired from another job, have you? Oh, wait…. I forgot. You can't. You're not in Earthforce any more."

"I was honourably discharged."

"Oh, go tell that to mummy!"

Smith leant forward and slammed his hands down on the edge of the desk. It shook, and several papers precariously suspended there fell off. Zack looked at them and shrugged. They couldn't have been important. "Mr. Allan, I had you removed from your post as Chief Security Officer on the Babylon when I took over because I didn't think you were right for the job. Not only did you betray my predecessor, but there were gross lapses in your performance and duties. What I see now only confirms that I was right."

"Yeah, well, I'd hate to cut this fascinating conversation short, but I'm afraid the game's about to start, so…."

"What do you know about a Mr. Trace?"

Zack started, and then coughed falsely, trying to cover his tracks. Had Smith noticed his surprise? Probably. Damn the man. "He's a…. local businessman. An entrepreneur. Just the type Sector Three-o-one needs to improve the local economy."

"Ah. How much is he paying you, Mr. Allan?"

"I really hope you aren't accusing a Security Officer of this fair world of ours of taking bribes. I believe that's slander, defamation of a public figure with a view to harm planetary security…. I could have you arrested for that."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Allan. I'll be leaving now."

"Good." He flicked his gaze to the vidscreen. "Aw, great. I missed the first plays."

"Mr. Allan." Zack did not turn around. "I never liked you, or your methods, but I never wanted you to fall this far. If I were you, I'd take a look in the mirror and start to question where your choices have brought you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Smith left.

Once he was sure Smith had gone, Zack reluctantly tore himself away from the game and went to his commscreen. He sent through a signal and was pleased when it was received almost instantly. "Yeah?" said the face on the screen. "There a problem, Allan?"

"There might be, Mr. Trace. I just got a visit from someone poking his nose into your business. Thought you ought to know."

"Indeed I do. Who was it?"

"You've probably heard of him. Dexter Smith, used to be captain of the Babylon."

"Him again? Yeah, I've heard of him. Thanks for the warning, Allan. By the way, if you're watching the game, my money's on the Swashbucklers."

Zack smiled. "You know, that's exactly what I was thinking."

* * *

Sinoval had a headache. He couldn't explain it and he certainly didn't like it, but he knew somehow that something was wrong, and his headache was a symptom of that.

He had not been feeling well since Kozorr had returned. Truthfully, he had not been well since Kozorr had 'died'. Kats had hardly spoken to him in all that time. She had been working herself almost to exhaustion, her guilt driving her to the abyss, and perhaps beyond.