Ryan blinked, wondering why he wasn't dead yet. Almost three years ago, General Hague had blown his brains out with a PPG, unable to accept the cost of the war. Ryan would have done the same, had he but the courage.
But he had never had the courage. Not to end his life, not to continue fighting, not to do anything but meekly accept what had been thrown at him. He should have agreed with Barns, he should have gone with him. It was the right thing to do, but....
But he had been too afraid. All his adult life he had seen his people engaged in one terrible war after another. Surely this new life, this new peace, whatever it cost, was better than another sixteen years of war.
The man turned from the wall, his work done. Ryan blinked and looked up at it. It was a message, as he had expected.
General Edward Ryan sighed, closed his eyes, and died.
Some stories have not been told yet.
The day Ryan died, Captain David Corwin was on a routine patrol around the Greater Krindar shipyards, supervising the repairs and defences of the
Five telepaths, sealed forever in space, in an eternity of agony nothing could end, linked forever to their accursed network.
And another seven alive, but in pain. Carolyn magnified their pain through to him. Phantom pain. He had awoken in the middle of the night, reaching frantically for his left arm, convinced it had been blown away.
How many more? How many more lives were the Vorlons going to throw away in this vendetta of theirs? How many more lives was he going to let them throw away before he did something, anything?
Wait, Lyta had said. Wait. Be patient. The time will come.
When?
Something hummed in the back of his mind and he sat upright in his chair, realising it was Carolyn. That had been happening a lot the longer he spent on this ship. Some of the other captains were reporting similar symptoms, an almost symbiotic link with the ship, as if it were becoming a part of them.
They did not know about the telepaths, of course. Corwin shuddered to think of the implications.
Still, he knew better than to ignore such a warning.
'Scan for anything unusual,' he said, cautiously. 'Anything....' He wasn't sure, but Carolyn could sense something.
Wait.... telepathic powers were heightened in hyperspace, weren't they? Wasn't that the whole point of this network, how it operated? And the Shadows could move through hyperspace effortlessly. They even lived there to some extent.
'Scan into hyperspace,' he said. The
'Captain,' barked out the technician. 'Jump gates.'
'Gates?' The Shadows didn't use jump gates. They just slipped between dimensions as easily as walking from one room to another. 'Who?'
Ships appeared, and immediately began to fire.
'That's insane,' whispered Corwin, knowing he should give orders, but unable to assimilate the absurdity of this. This did not make sense. Even considering everything that had happened recently, this did not make any sense.
'Why would the Minbari attack us?'
John Clemens was a man who did not make friends easily. He was, however, very skilled at what he did, and what he did was catch people. He was an investigator, a detective, a cold, harsh man who lived only to regulate and control society.
For years he had been languishing in a thankless, forsaken post. A prison Governor in the far northern Dome, a maximum security area where aliens were kept, as well as the worst human criminals. His skills should have placed him far higher, but he did not rage at his lack of recognition, content to wait. In some strange way he suspected the truth.
He had met Mr. Welles on only a few occasions, but Welles had been his superior for years. Somewhere, in the icy caverns of his mind, Clemens recognised that Welles respected him and wanted him somewhere safe. He wanted a skilled man to take over should anything.... happen. A man untouched and untainted by political rivalries.
A man who would do his job and no more.
'Well, Mr. Clemens?' said the man beside him. 'What precautions have you taken?'
'We've sealed all the spaceports, of course,' Clemens said in his typically clipped manner. He had very little patience, but was singularly adept at hiding this from others. 'This is being treated as a Code Perfect crime - one of maximum importance.'
'A holdover from the Wartime Emergency Provisions.'
'One that has never been repealed. General Ryan held a position expressly mentioned in the relevant sections and any crime against him should be treated as a Code Perfect.'
'That's a value judgement. Do you really think you have that authority?'
'I am Chief of Security for the whole of this planet. That gives me the authority to invoke Code Perfect. In this case, I am doing so. I do not need your authorisation.'
The man nodded. 'Continue.'
'The Domes are being closed off, the transport tunnels shut down. A curfew is being imposed. My officers have licence to enter and search any building they see fit. Due to a shortage of available officers, however, I am exercising discretion in the use of that power. Based on the approximate time of the murder, the perpetrator would probably not have got further than ten or twelve sectors in any direction, so we are working on identifying potential hiding places. The recent devastation has of course increased their number considerably. I have also ordered a planet–wide cordon of ships in case a shuttle does manage to escape.'
'You are taking up a great deal of resources on this. Not to mention time. Those ships are necessary for the continuation of the war, and the Security officers will be needed for other duties.'
'Everything I have done is within the remit of my position. If of course you want the murderer to escape, then you are free to remove me and appoint a replacement. Until you do that, you have no power to object as long as I stay within the provisions of my office and within the powers granted me by the Wartime Emergency Provisions.'
'Those Provisions are being repealed. Every last one of them.'
'That is for the Senate to consider. When it is fully convened, of course. Now, unless there are any more questions....'
'Yes, actually. There are. Have you any thoughts on how the murderer managed to get inside General Ryan's rooms, and out again, without your officers noticing?'
'A pass card was used, permitting authorised access to certain areas, including the General's rooms. It is possible that the murderer was a civil servant or ministerial aide, who had appropriate authorisation. It is also possible he or she stole the card or bought it on the black market. My officers are severely under strength, as you well know.'
'Yes, I do, and that's something I'm working on rectifying, but the last sixteen years have hit us all quite hard. How long do you think it will take you to find the murderer?'
'As long as it takes.'
