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

'He took the same blast I did,' Welles had commented. 'It probably killed him.'

'We never found a body.'

'Ah.'

It was funny the things Corwin found himself thinking about. He supposed anything was better than the image that touched on his dreams: the image of a glowing, trapped person, imprisoned somewhere within his ship. The thought of one just like her inside every Dark Star.

He had not been sleeping well lately, and so he had so many more waking hours to fill with mindless thoughts. He remembered Susan, Ambassador Sheridan, he thought about Delenn, about Lyta — about Lyta a lot.... and about the future. That, too.

What sort of future was there? Would this war ever be over? And when it was, what then? Another long and bloody war, just as pointless? Or a peace ruled by the Vorlons?

These thoughts disturbed him, and so he had taken, on his time off, to going for long walks, revisiting areas of Proxima he had known before. He saw a park he had gone walking in with Susan. He saw a shop where he had bought food and newspapers. He saw countless little landmarks, each one sparking off another memory.

And he saw the devastation of so much of the business sector, destroyed by a Shadow ship, although there was some debate as to whether the destruction had been a deliberate attack or a consequence of the Shadow vessel falling from the sky. Either way the damage was colossal, the cost to Proxima's fragile economy devastating. The death toll was still unknown.

But most of all he saw the people. Not the soldiers, or the leaders, or the diplomats — the ordinary people. He saw the bakers, the shopkeepers, the secretaries, the people in the street, the parents, the children, the old, the young. He saw the fear in their eyes, the resentment. He had seen those things in the days before the Second Line, in the long, hard years of perpetual terror that the Minbari would arrive any moment.

He also took time to speak to them. Some would have nothing to do with him, whether he was in or out of uniform. Some were afraid of being overheard, or detected.

Most expressed admiration for President Clark, and complete disbelief that he would ever do such a thing. Many blamed the Shadows, who had deceived the greatest leader humanity had ever known. Some put it all down to the Alliance, who would willingly have massacred all life on Proxima, and would have succeeded had it not been for the sacrifice of Captain DeClercq, whom almost everyone was calling a hero.

Corwin listened to these things with the taste of ashes in his mouth.

Some whispered conspiratorially of help coming. Captains Tikopai and Barns would find help, build an army, come back and save Proxima, drive away the Alliance. Corwin spoke to some people who claimed to be hiding Tikopai's teenage daughter, keeping her safe from people who would use her to attack her mother. Corwin knew full well that Julia Tikopai was missing, but then so were many on Proxima these days.

The members of Clark's Government were spoken of in varying tones. Some saw Welles as a great patriot for his broadcast about what had happened to the defence grid, others called him a knowing ally of the Alliance plot, spreading false reports of Clark's actions. Some even said he had murdered Clark.

Ryan was seen as a coward by many, but as a loyal man doing what he thought was right by others, many of whom had the bearing of soldiers. Clark had been working on a massive programme to increase the size of Earthforce. That had now been suspended, and there were many former soldiers trying to hide, but something in their voices and bearing always gave them away.

Everywhere he went, however, he heard about Delenn. There were hushed whispers about the miracle of her rebirth, by many who claimed to have been there. If they were all telling the truth, about half of Proxima must have seen her come back to life. There were reports of other miracles, of the blind suddenly seeing, of a crippled war veteran being able to walk. Some said it was her sacrifice that had prevented the defence grid from firing for long enough.

Her shrine became filled with people. Delenn herself had not been seen in public since her 'death'. Corwin knew where she was, resting in hospital. He had not had a chance to talk with her, and he was not sure he wanted to. What could he say?

And so, as the days passed, he wandered through a beaten and resentful Proxima, a world that had once been his own, and day by day, the feeble remains of his pride, the part of him that said 'I am doing the right thing'.... it all evaporated, lifeless dust on the barren winds of his hopes.

'I am doing the right thing,' he said, again and again, but the more he said it, the less he believed it.

* * *

I was doing the right thing.

Everything I did was right, all of it. So I thought. It was.... easy to rationalise. I was working for the Government of Humanity, the last hope of our people. These were desperate times, dark times. Some.... liberties had to be taken, some rights had to be quietly sidelined. It was all for the good of the people, wasn't it? No one could be allowed to rock the boat, to disrupt things.

I was Chief of Security, and also the Spymaster. All information came to me eventually, through one way or another, very few of them legitimate. I passed that information on, and it was used.... appropriately.

People disappeared. People died. Crimes went unpunished and the innocent went unprotected. I played a part in the deal with the Narns that gave them more or less complete control over our outlying colonies. I played a part in selling half the human race into slavery.

I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. I was.... no one important before. My parents both worked for EarthGov in minor capacities, my mother a Senator's aide and my father in the Ministry of Agriculture. I had no brothers or sisters, very few friends.

My mother died when I was about twenty, a random victim of an assassination attempt by one terrorist group or another. Free Mars probably, but it could have been anyone. I used to tell people that was why I used my psychology degree from Cambridge to get me into the Intelligence Services, but that was a lie.

You see, the thing is, I've always been able to tell when other people are lying. I've always been able to read people, to know their secrets, their delusions, everything. I never really liked people. They all seemed so.... stupid, so ignorant. No one ever just stopped and thought about things for a minute.

So, after my mother died, I went into the Intelligence Service. I rose.... respectably, although not rapidly. I think I scared a few people slightly. Ah, well. I hit a sort of glass ceiling eventually, no more room for promotion, the work of a few of my colleagues who were jealous and afraid. They tried to hide it, but I could see it in them.

I was lucky to be on Mars when you came to Earth. There was no grand plan there, it was just luck. I was on a sort of holiday with my wife, Victoria. No, not a holiday at all. I was trying to get her to leave the solar system and get somewhere safe. She wasn't having any of it. As it happened, you came a little early, and both of us just managed to get out alive. Most of the rest of the Government was blasted, the Chief Ministers and the Senate practically wiped out. EarthGov had shifted base to Mars when it became apparent that Earth was under threat, but even so the attack was pretty bad. If it hadn't been for a very timely arrival by half our fleet, we'd all have been killed there.

Anyway, with the Intelligence Service collapsed around our ears and all our files gone, I suddenly became invaluable. I've always had a good memory, you see. Not quite perfect, but pretty good. I managed to recreate most of our files, and that made me indispensable to the new administration. I got promoted to Head pretty fast, and I took over the Security job as well, sort of folding Intelligence and Security together.

That was when I became involved in the dirty tricks, and, well.... came close to losing my soul.

* * *

There was a bottle of whisky on the table, opened, but untouched. Next to it there was a glass. It was empty.

And behind them both, looking at them the way a thirsty man in a desert looks at a single drop of water, was General John Sheridan, leader of the Dark Star fleets of the United Alliance of Kazomi 7. He had not touched the drink yet, but that was mostly for the memory of his wife Anna, and what drinking had done to her.