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

He fell silent, and mopped at his sweat-stained forehead.

"What's going back?" Talia asked softly.

"Bodies. In cryogenic suspension. Not many, but a fair number. Of course, no one can do any sort of census in the Pit, and Security don't investigate missing persons. Some of these people came from outside the Pit though; they're lured here somehow, and then disappear. Things are still chaotic up at Main Dome, and some people do vanish. But all these people had something in common, and that's what blew my little enterprise. As I said, Allan wasn't surprised that weapons were coming through here, even if they weren't going direct to Mr. Trace, but it was the type of weapons that tipped him off and caused him to report to IPX."

He shuddered, and looked at Talia carefully, as if seeking confirmation of something he suspected but didn't know to be true.

"What?" asked Byron angrily. "What tipped him off?"

"Well, the weapons I was funnelling through here were for use against the Narns, right. And Narns don't have telepaths. Almost every other weapon or piece of tech coming to Trace from IPX was for use against telepaths. I'd say that those missing people were all teeps."

"Ah," Talia said. That did explain a lot. She was about to say something when there was a sudden movement behind her, and she spun round. There was someone there. People, a lot of them, shimmering into view.

This was impossible. She should have been able to sense them. She heard Chase let out a wild cry and saw Byron start forward. She stepped back quickly, counting the new arrivals. Seven, at least.

"M…. M…. M…." Chase was spluttering.

"Shut up, Chase," snapped an angry voice. "Did you really think you'd evaded us all this time? We wanted to see who you planned to contact, and now we've found them…. Well, many thanks. Thanks to you, we're all getting extra bonuses this month."

"Mr. Trace," Chase said, finally managing a coherent sound. "Ah…. It's…. ah…. You don't want to hurt me…. You don't…."

Talia became aware that Byron was beside her, and suddenly realised what he was planning. So far this Trace and his companions hadn't tried anything aggressive, and she knew it was best to let the other person make the first move, sucker them into revealing more than they intended.

Byron didn't plan on waiting for anything at all.

She reached out to warn him, but it was too late. She could feel his telepathic invasion of Trace's mind, and his psionic suggestion to him.

You will leave this place. You will leave us alone.

Trace smiled slightly. "No," he said, in a friendly tone of voice. "I don't think so." He raised his hand, and revealed a small black box. He pressed a button.

Byron screamed and fell to the ground. He was unconscious by the time he hit it, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. There was blood welling from his nose.

"He'll have a headache for a while," muttered Trace. "Are you going to make this easy, Miss…. Winters, isn't it? Because let me tell you, between the two of us and at the risk of jeopardising my hard-man image in front of my men here…. I really don't like hurting women. We've all got to have some sort of moral code, don't we? Otherwise we're nothing better than savages, howling in the wilderness."

"This looks pretty much like a wilderness to me," she replied, edging back slowly, careful not to trip over Byron's body. He was alive, she could sense that much, but there was nothing she could do to help him now. She would be lucky if she could help herself. Chase stood stock still, as if paralysed. He was still blubbering.

"Well, yes, it is." Trace was standing still, but two of his men were moving forward. They were wearing the same black clothing as he was, and Talia recognised a Light Refraction Belt. Some of the science labs in Main Dome were working on them, and they were nearly perfected. Obviously Trace and his men had first dibs on any interesting new tech to come this way.

"This is a wilderness, but it's my wilderness. Are you going to surrender?"

"What do you think?"

The nearest of his men darted forward and she reacted instantly, whipping her slender knife from its sheath in her sleeve and lashing out. It caught him straight across the face and he fell back in a shower of blood.

The other man hesitated slightly, just long enough for her to drop the gas bomb she had been holding clenched in her other hand. The instant it hit the ground and cracked, she turned and ran as fast as she could.

Trace waited patiently for the gas to recede, and then looked around. The male teep — the powerful one — was still unconscious. He could be sent on to the Boss without any problem. The female teep — the interesting one — seemed to have got away.

"Well don't just stand there," he barked. "Go find her. What am I paying you for?" Only Nelson stayed behind. He would be needed to make arrangements for the body, and anyway, a simple search-and-locate was a bit beneath him these days.

And then there was Chase. Trace actually liked the pathetic little weasel, but still…. He'd killed people he'd liked before.

Chase was still whimpering, trying futilely to beg for mercy.

Trace raised his PPG.

* * *

There was one person on Centauri Prime who knew of the Shadow involvement in the battle before anyone else. Mr. Morden had sold his soul to a higher power than humanity, and that power had given him certain advantages. He knew that the Shadows had come, and that he had arrived here too late.

He had not hesitated. All transport off-planet had been halted by the news of the upcoming attack, and so he could not have left even if the jump gate had not been disabled. On the other hand, that would not last forever. He had to be clear of the palace, to somewhere safe. The Vorlons knew of the problem here and they could help him escape.

The Centauri Republic was not lost yet. It could still be redeemed from the errors it had made. It would be a hard road, and a difficult one, but it could be done. The Centauri would escape far easier than humanity for their lapse in judgement.

It was a shame, though. He liked Mollari. He really did.

Oh, well. The burden of power was never an easy one. Mollari would understand.

Morden turned the corner, not quite running, to find Lord-General Marrago standing there with a sizeable number of the Palace Guard.

"There he is," Marrago said flatly. "He is under arrest by order of the Emperor. He is to be detained in the special cells in this building. Do not try to resist, Mr. Morden. Their orders are to shoot to kill if you try."

"The Emperor gave no such order," Morden said smiling. "I'm one of his most trusted allies."

"That alliance, and the need for it, has just been terminated. I am a soldier, and I serve and protect my Emperor."

The guards encircled Morden. He did not plan to resist. There were more of them than of him, and they were also considerably stronger. He could have used some of his more…. esoteric talents, but there was little point. He knew now who the Shadow agent here was, and there was no cell that could hold him for long.

He went along with them quietly. Centauri Prime had been given its chance for salvation, and it had been refused. They would pay for that error. With a great fire and a terrible fury, the whole Republic would suffer because of the actions of one man.

Morden almost smiled.

* * *

"I can't believe it."

The pain was gone. The inner torment had receded. Delenn was filled with a joy all the more powerful because she knew it was limited. She had bargained with Ulkesh for one night with John before she would leave this place for Z'ha'dum. He had agreed.

That one night would be a reminder to her of why she was doing this. She loved him more than life itself, and she had once made a mistake which had cost him everything. This was one small form of recompense.

But she had seen a way to grab another triumph from this bargain. She had left four messages. One for John, explaining what she had done, and why. One for Lyta, her greatest and truest friend. She was not sure that message would get through, but she had at least to try to explain just how much Lyta's friendship had meant. One for Lethke, handing over command of the Alliance to him. She could trust him to make the right choices.

And the fourth…. That would be the most important message of them all. A warning of a sort, but so much more than that. He would know what to do with it, and he was the one person she could trust to act on what she had learned.

She had needed time to do these things, time apart from John, time she did not want to lose. But they were necessary, and now they were done.

There was one other thing she had needed to do as well. That accomplished, she could begin to make herself ready.

His face on seeing her had been all the reward she could need.

The dress was white and gold, a mixture of human and Minbari design. She was not sure if its cut was flattering or ludicrous, but John certainly seemed to like it. She had begun its commission before the beginning of G'Kar's fateful summit on Babylon 4, and she had quite forgotten it until now.

He had said nothing, as if he had been entirely struck dumb. Then he had smiled, and stepped into her quarters. "You look beautiful."

He was wearing a uniform much like his old one. He had showered and shaved, and he looked just as he had for those first months, before his virus had become dangerous and after they had finally managed to acknowledge what they felt.

"How do you feel?" she asked, not wanting to take her eyes from him, fixing everything in her memory.

"I…. strange," he admitted. "But in a good way. Everything tingles. But…. look." He reached out his hand, and took hers. "Isn't that a miracle?"

"Yes," she swallowed. "A miracle."

"I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. I never knew the Vorlons could do that. Repair all the damage…. and the virus. I…." He shook his head, smiling in wonderment. "I just don't believe it."

"What will you do now?" she whispered.

"Oh…. stay here, I suppose. David's doing fine with the Babylon…. at least, from what I can remember he is. I'm inclined to let him keep it. Maybe take a higher position. If we're going to take the war to the Shadows, after all, we'll need all the soldiers we can get."

Yes. Soldiers. Not healers.

"You would be welcome. I know Taan Churok will appreciate your assistance."

"It won't be easy," he admitted. "But I really think we can do it now. Especially with the Vorlons to help us." He smiled. "This is a turning point, Delenn. Everything's going to be all right now."

"Yes," she whispered, reaching up a hand to touch his face. "Everything will be…. all right."

There was a comfortable silence as she stared into his eyes. All the innocence and compassion and love…. everything that had been there before was there again now. All the horror he had seen was gone from his gaze. It was filled only with love for her.

"John," she said. "I love you."

His smile widened. "I love you, Delenn, you know that. I always love you…. even if I forget to say it from time to time."

"I know. I always knew."

She leaned in for a kiss, and he received her happily. She thought she might be beginning to cry. "John. Will you…. stay here tonight?"

"Are you…? I mean…."

"John, I love you. Stay with me?"

He reached forward and kissed her again in reply. She did cry at last, but her tears were of joy, not sorrow. They would have this time together, and no one — not the Vorlons, not the Shadows, not Deathwalker or Sinoval or Bester — would be able to take this night from them.

She now had something to take with her to Z'ha'dum.

* * *

Warleader G'Sten evaluated the remnants of his fleet and bit back a profanity. He did not in fact have the energy for anger anyway. He felt nothing beyond a profound depression, and a realisation that chances he should have taken in the past had now slipped away from him.

He should have listened to G'Kar, but he had not, and now his men had paid the price.

The Kha'Ri would be furious of course. At the least, they would demand his head. Perhaps they would even ask for the heads of his captains.

He would resign. He would accept responsibility. It was all over; the galaxy was doomed now, and everything would be washed away in darkness and fire. He had seen those Shadows, and they were all but invincible. The entire might of the Narn fleet had been unable so much as to scratch them. It was over.

They could not win. No one could win.

He would resign before the Kha'Ri, and go to the estate his family had once owned before the Centauri had come. He would tend the tree his brother had died on, he would sit and look at the sunsets, and he would wait for the end.

It was over now. The war was over. Life was over.

He would simply wait for the end.

* * *

There were a number of skills any good secret agent needed, but foremost of all was the ability to know when to run, and when to stop running. Sooner or later everything fell apart, and when that happened the best thing to hope for was a good head start, and a better hiding place.

Talia was still running, although only in a metaphorical sense. She was sure she had managed to shake off the initial pursuit, but they would still be tracking her. She needed an immediate place of sanctuary, and after that a new base of operations. At least now she knew what was happening here, and she could take appropriate action. Maybe move out of 301 and up into Main Dome. She didn't have much more to do here after all.

She pressed herself as hard into the alcove as she could. It was heavily shadowed and there was enough rubbish and debris strewn around the street that she should remain inconspicuous. She could hear her pursuers coming this way. Normally it would be possible to alter their perceptions slightly so they would not notice her, but they had very advanced tech that seemed able to resist telepathic influences, so she simply remained very still.

There were three of them, all people she had seen with Trace.

"I'm telling you, she came this way," snarled one of them.

"Well, I'm telling you there's no one in sight. I mean, who'd come through a dump street like this, least of all a classy bit like her. She'd get that nice skirt of hers all messy."

There was a reply Talia really hadn't wanted to hear, and guttural chuckling.

"Yeah," said the first voice. "Well, maybe, with a mouth your size. Look, we go back without her, and Mr. Trace is going to have us nailed to the wall and used for target practice. She came this way."

"There's no one here. Listen, and think about this for a moment." The voices were coming closer. "Anyone who pisses off Mr. Trace ain't going to want to stick around in his den, is she? Now you saw what she was wearing. She ain't from the Pit, so she'll be running off to the tube stations and get out-sector. I'll bet she's halfway to Main Dome by now."