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

'We have seen the Z'ondar,' Vhixarion said. 'We have seen him and Zarwin, the first Sah'thai.... He who Atoned. Zarwin did not understand....'

'Valen said he would,' Marrain whispered. How wise had he been? Just how much had he known?

'We have not a tenth of Zarwin's wisdom. We have not a hundredth of the Z'ondar's wisdom. You knew them both. You are he who stood at the right hand of the Z'ondar, returned to us through the chariot of ages.

'Tell us.... Help us to understand.'

'I do not understand,' Marrain whispered. 'I am not a God, not a prophet. I am just a man. I do not understand.' He met the alien's eyes, and saw Zarwin in him once again. There had been one moment when Zarwin had teetered on the edge of comprehension.... just one moment. It had faded quickly, but it had been there.

'But together.... perhaps.... we can.'

He held out his hand.

* * *

It is a strange habit of many races to want to name and record battles. The reasons for this vary. The Narns grimly remember those who died and speak their names with vengeance and dark determination, recalling often their ancestors or family or friends who fell at this battle, or at that siege. The Centauri constantly recount vainglorious tales of long–distant glories and great deeds of the past, distancing themselves from the smell of blood, the pitiful cries of the dying and the grieving relatives.

The humans.... they like history. They like to study it, record it, remember it. To study anything it must be recorded, and so the battles need names, dates, generals.

Humans like history, but they very rarely learn anything from it.

Immediately after the battle some scholars suggested the title of the Third Line, echoing of course the First Line at Earth and the Second Line at Proxima. That name fell out of use in a few years, when it became apparent that the Alliance used the name 'Third Line' to refer to an engagement at Epsilon 3 the year before.

A rival school preferred the Siege of Proxima, but that never gained widespread acceptance. Some pro– Alliance historians suggested the Battle to Reclaim Humanity, but for too many that title was too ironic and painful.

Finally, after some fifty years or so, the Battle of Proxima was accepted, giving rise to considerable disappointment at such a boring name for such an eventful occasion. But that was fifty years in the future.

And this is the present.

Most of the Dark Stars were puzzled by the sudden near–collapse of the enemy ships, but their captains reacted swiftly enough to the sight of a few Shadow ships still operating. Captain Sheridan was the first, leading from the front as always, but Captains Corwin, Daro and Kulomani were also quick to move.

The engagement was still difficult, but much less so than if the Shadows had been at full strength. Without the support of their Earthforce allies they were unable to hold the gateway to the Proxima system, and mounted a cautious retreat. The Alliance ships moved nearer and nearer to Proxima 3 itself, knowing the defence grid was waiting for them.

Of the four capital Earthforce ships, the Saint–Germain possessed limited capabilities and the Morningstar was struggling to regain some sort of combat readiness. For the Dark Thunder and the De'Molay , however, the damage was much more comprehensive.

* * *

The captain of the De'Molay could hear a million voices screaming as one, coming from a far–distant place. Beneath them she could dimly detect the hissing agony that came from around her.

And above them all, behind the screams, were the triumphant whispers of an ancient race she had never met.

Then all she could hear was her name.

Her eyes opened and she stirred, wincing at the pain in her head and side. Her second, Commander Paul Telleride, was beside her, shaking her gently.

'It's all right,' she whispered, blinking past the pain and looking up at him. There was a long deep crimson gash across his forehead. 'I'm awake. What the hell happened to us?'

'Your guess is as good as mine,' he replied, stepping back and awkwardly helping her up. 'We're floating here. Jaiena in Engineering is doing what she can, but....'

'Damn.' Bethany activated her link, patching in the signal. 'Engineering,' she said. 'Jaiena, can you hear me?'

The familiar voice of the Chief Engineer answered a moment later, through a confused and patchwork signal. 'Captain.... Engi... ing.... here.'

'What's our status, Jaiena? Please tell me we can do something!'

'Ship–to–sh.... comm.... active.... Engines are.... dead. Weapons.... dead. Navigation.... We're working on....'

'Ship–to–ship comm is active?' Bethany looked up at Paul, who was bent over one of the panels, frantically working at something. 'Do what you can, Jaiena. Tikopai out.' She hobbled over to her second, wincing with every step. Her bridge was in complete chaos, covered in debris, small fires still burning, smoke filling the air.

And with each step, the ship itself seemed to cry with its suffering.

'Can we get through to any of the others? Are they in any better condition than we are?'

'I'm trying,' muttered Paul. 'Our last sensor reading was of the Dark Thunder practically falling apart, but as for the others, we.... Hallelujah!'

'Didn't know you were a religious man,' she observed, and then her humour faded as she heard a clipped, precise voice.

'Saint–Germain to De'Molay. Anyone there, De'Molay?'

'This is De'Molay. What is your status, Saint– Germain?'

'Good to hear from you, Captain. We are changing coding signals every three seconds, so keep up.'

'If we can.'

'We are operational. Whatever hit us seems to have affected the Saint–Germain less than the rest of you. However, our enhanced jump engines, superior sensor array and all the other engine enhancements are inoperational. Our targeting systems and hull integrity are also not good. Our weapons systems are completely off–line.'

Tikopai stood back, trying to think. The Saint–Germain's weapons systems had never been over–powerful in any case. It was a sign of desperation that the ship was here at all. What weapons they had were special Shadowtech dispersion fire, designed to distract and hinder pursuing forces while the ship fled. It was a scouting and reconnaissance vessel after all....

Tikopai paused, a dark thought rising.

A scouting vessel, designed with enhancements to the normal jump engines enabling it to enter hyperspace much more quickly and efficiently than normal Earthforce ships. With a superior Shadowtech sensor array, aimed to scan at much greater distances. With considerable Shadowtech engine enhancements designed for greater speed and manoeuverability.

'Good God,' she whispered. 'It's the Shadowtech. Whatever they hit us with has paralysed all the Shadowtech in our ships.'

'How on earth...?' asked Paul.

'I've no idea. DeClercq, did you hear that?'

'Confirmed.'

'Can you get through to Ryan and the Morningstar?'

'Negative.'

'Damn! What are the Alliance up to? We're sitting blind over here.'

'As far as we can tell from normal sensor functions, the Shadows are beginning to pull back. Some of the Alliance ships are heading for Proxima itself. Our normal jump engines should be on–line again soon according to the engineers. We will follow them.'