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

'I see.... Act quickly. There is a war on.'

'No. For us, the war is very much over.' The other man turned to leave, and Clemens continued reviewing the murder scene, taking in details, information, evidence, when a thought occurred to him. 'Oh, by the way, General Sheridan....

'I just thought you would like to know. Considering the position you now hold and the wording of the Provisions, your murder would also qualify for a Code Perfect investigation. Is that not a welcoming thought?'

'No,' Sheridan said dryly. 'Not really.'

* * *

Some things were oddly familiar, even welcoming in a strange way.

Corwin had been fighting the Minbari almost all of his adult life. He had worked together with his Captain, the legendary Starkiller, devising tactics and battle plans specifically geared to Minbari ways of fighting. The vast majority of that war had been fought from a position of extreme weakness, where every tiny advantage was essential, no strategy too underhand, no possibility left unchecked.

Now Corwin was not in a damaged, half–obsolete, vastly inferior human ship. He was in one of the most advanced and powerful ships of its class anywhere in the galaxy. He was not alone, but surrounded by allies. He could target the Minbari ships easily, his Dark Star was faster and more manoeuvrable, and his forces outnumbered the enemy.

Admittedly, the telepath network was of little to no use in actual combat against non–Shadow–based ships, but that was another plus as far as he was concerned.

But the big question, the one he still could not answer.

Why?

'Defensive positions,' he ordered hurriedly. 'Defend the shipyards.' The Minbari had an advantage of time, a small one, but potentially enough. Corwin saw the Dark Stars adopting a hasty defensive position. Some damage had already been done. 'Put out a signal to the Minbari. Make damned sure they can hear it.'

Still the Minbari came forward, all weapons blasting. Corwin shook his head, unwilling to accept any of this. It looked like a deliberate suicide mission, a kamikaze attack. But why, in God's name?

'This is Captain David Corwin of the Dark Star fleet to attacking Minbari vessels,' he said. 'Cease firing and surrender now, or you will be destroyed. Diplomatic negotiations can be initiated at Kazomi Seven. This is a base of the United Alliance, and there is no war between the Alliance and the Minbari. What is the meaning of this attack? Please respond.'

'Captain. Captain Daro wishes to begin offensive measures.'

'Negative,' Corwin replied. 'We defend the shipyards. Strike to disable where possible.'

'He says....'

'I don't care what he says! They act as if I'm in charge here, so they can damned well listen to me. Defensive positions only.'

'We're getting a reply from the Minbari. It's.... just one word. Chugo. No translation.'

'We don't need one,' Corwin muttered. 'It means 'Duty'. Damn them!'

Still the Minbari came forward, throwing themselves at the Dark Stars, heedless of the danger, uncaring of the risk of death. They came.

It was not a fight. It was a massacre. Finally two Minbari warships limped away, damaged, near–destroyed. Corwin let them go. They had taken no prisoners. The Minbari had not allowed themselves to be taken prisoner.

'Captain Daro is requesting leave to pursue.'

'Negative,' Corwin sighed wearily. 'We can't have an engagement in hyperspace, and we'll need to stay here. For all we know this could be a distraction, to draw us away from the shipyards and hit them with something bigger. Why on Earth would...? No, it doesn't matter. We'll need an assessment of the damage, both to the facilities and the ships. We'll also have to send a message to the nearest base. I think we'll need reinforcements. I'll prepare a report for Proxima and Kazomi Seven.'

He did not need to ask about casualties. One of the Dark Stars had been destroyed, a flaming Minbari warship having ploughed straight into it. He had heard Carolyn redirect the scream to his own mind.

As he sat back in his chair to listen to the reports, a nagging thought preyed on his mind. Why the Minbari? What did they have to gain by this? What purpose was there to this attack?

And one word seemed to echo off the walls of his memory, through a telepath's silent scream. A word he had spoken, but forgotten.

One word.

Distraction.

* * *

In a place that is no place, William Edgars receives a report. He speaks to a person with no name, one who sits on the Council, but who also recognises a greater master, one who serves not only humanity, but also the Lords of Order.

'And are we to take action over this?'

'It is believed General Ryan was killed by a political extremist protesting against the new regime, possibly one of Clark's followers. Many are still unaccounted for.'

'Not possible. All of Clark's immediate aides, advisors and servants are dead, imprisoned or neutralised. This information may not be available to the new regime, but it is to us. This seems to be something more.'

'The Shadows?'

'Yes. Ryan's murder triggered a Code Perfect. Proxima is now sealed off. Should General Sheridan try to repeal the order, there will be further difficulties between him and the Senate. That could be their aim.'

'By now, the Shadows are aware that there is a node of the network here on Proxima. They know we can find any of their agents on the planet, and the imposition of Code Perfect renders escape impossible.'

'Then their aim is what? Buying time?'

'How long will it take to locate their agent?'

'A full search will not be easy, and it will draw considerable resources away from other nodes. It is possible they know this. It seems they do intend to buy time, but for what? Possible theories?'

'To weaken the Dark Star ships?'

'Unlikely. The Dark Stars are nodes all of their own. Each fleet operates on a mini–network, a part of the larger network, but almost self–contained.'

'There is insufficient evidence.'

'Very well. We will find this agent. We will act as swiftly as we can. It is possible the Shadows do not know the full powers and limitations of the network. It is possible the imposition of Code Perfect was their only aim, in which case we must see that it is lifted soon.'

'As you say. The Table advocates no action in this. They wish to maintain a low profile after recent events.'

'Cowards, but then caution is rarely a serious sin. They can wait, as we can.'

Four hours and twenty–eight minutes later, William Edgars stood before Byron as he completed his mission. There was indeed a Shadow agent on the planet, in hiding. Edgars paused for a moment's thought, and then sent a message to Dexter Smith.

* * *

There was no particular reason why the nameless man had come to Sector 301, none at all. He had performed the duty he had been given, and now he was free to rest. All he had to do now was avoid capture for as long as possible, to buy as much time as he could.

All had gone as the Dark Masters had promised. Proxima was sealed off, General Sheridan was stuck here, his ships all but paralysed in space. Resources were controlled, restricted. Time.... time was passing. Each second he remained free was another second his enemies did not have to respond.

He knew all he needed of the Dark Masters' counterstrike, their plan for revenge, even possibly for victory. They still wished to win, yes, but if they could not, then revenge would be acceptable - the burning of worlds, the