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

'Well, there was the Babylon, of course, but I thought the Captain might want that for his own ship. And I've thought about the Victory, the Endeavour, the Bounty, the Revenge.... The Resistance Government has already nicked most of my ideas or I'd have used the Morningstar.'

'Hmm.... I see. What about the.... No, not that.... Um.... the Spartan, no that's not quite right. The Heracles, no I'm sure someone's used that.... I like Greek history,' she said, to Corwin's bemused expression. 'Something of a hobby of mine.' She smiled. 'The Agamemnon. How's that?'

'The Agamemnon,' he mused. 'I like it.' He tapped the armrest of his chair. 'I guess you're the Agamemnon now.'

Neeoma set her hand on the armrest as well. 'The Agamemnon,' she said.

Corwin was not entirely sure what happened next. A shock seemed to strike his arm, and a voice cried out into his mind. A flash of bright light burst in front of his eyes. Tainted! roared the voice. Corrupted!

He shielded his eyes, and saw Neeoma on the floor. Her eyes were rolled up into her skull, and she was shaking. He leapt from the chair and reached out to touch her. As he touched her wrist she started and blinked, looking at him blankly.

'Are you all right?'

'For a moment, I thought.... I could hear something and I....' She trembled. 'No offence, but I'm getting off this ship now.'

'What do you think it was? An electric shock?' He was breathing more heavily, trying to still the frantic pounding of his heart. 'Some sort of.... loose wiring?'

'I.... don't know. Anyway, I'm going. There's something about these ships.... Let me know when you want to begin the training. I'll see you later....' She left the bridge as fast as she could, without looking back.

Corwin watched her go, and then sat back down gingerly. He touched the armrest, but there was no shock, no flash of light. He could feel the faint warmth again, and a gentle throbbing beneath his palm. Almost like.... a heartbeat.

'Did I hear you?' he asked softly. 'Is there someone there?'

There was no reply.

* * *

'Do you know what you have to do?'

'Yes. Yes, I do.'

'Are you afraid?'

'I don't know. Should I be?'

'Everyone feels fear, my lady. That is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a sign of a great warrior that he does what must be done in spite of his fear. Everyone has known fear.'

'Then.... yes.... I think I am afraid. But.... But I will do as you ask anyway.'

'Good. Kats has not overstated your virtues then. Do this for me, my lady.... and then you will be safe. I promise you that much.'

'I believe you, my lord. Kats believes in you.'

'She.... does?'

'Yes, my lord.'

'I see. Very well, my lady. Go.... and fortune favour you.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'All will be well. The souls of history are watching us. All.... will be well.'

* * *

Of late G'Kar had begun to wonder if there had ever been a time when he had been able to sleep for more than a few minutes together without being awoken by some important news, or message, or meeting. While his body was a part of the Great Machine of course he had had no need for sleep. Now, he did.

Everything had changed so fast, faster it seemed than he could keep up with. He had formed his Rangers following Neroon's guidelines. They were to be agents, saboteurs, gatherers of information and warriors. They would be the leaders of his crusade against the Enemy.

The events of the past half a year had thrown many of his plans into disarray. The greatest loss had been the Machine itself. With it, G'Kar could contact all his agents across the galaxy. Now many of them were cut off and abandoned, lost, with no way to get to them. He felt blinded.

Not that that meant no information was coming to him. On the contrary, he was receiving far too much information, and none of it was good.

The war between his people and the Centauri had dissolved into a series of short skirmishes. The Kha'Ri was trying to hold every world it had taken during the course of this war, and it was spreading its forces too thinly. Lord-General Marrago had retaken a number of lost Centauri colonies and military bases with highly skilled and successful punches, risking almost his entire fleet on one engagement.

There should be peace, of course, but neither side could agree on terms. The Kha'Ri was stubbornly insisting on retaining all the worlds it had taken, in spite of the obvious evidence that it had not the resources to do this. The Centarum was advocating nothing less than the return of all lost worlds, and that was just the members who were even talking peace. Many were declaring they should take the war all the way to the Narn homeworld.

And, if that weren't enough, the two races had nowhere to negotiate a deal. For obvious reasons neither Government wanted to send an emissary to the territories controlled by the other, and Kazomi 7 was the only place both parties would accept as a neutral venue.

But G'Kael was finding he had less and less power here. The Kha'Ri rarely listened to him and refused to support his actions regarding other matters, most notably the war with the Enemy. Since he could not promise any official Narn military aid, the Council was growing steadily more displeased with him.

Mollari on the other hand did not even have a representative here yet. If G'Kar had been a gambling man he would have laid a large pile of money that there was no one Mollari trusted enough to be sent here who was not too valuable to be spared from the homeworld.

And then.... there was the Enemy. There was progress there, which would at least be something to smile about, if the seeds of suspicion Sinoval had planted were not growing into something much larger. The Dark Star fleet was proving to be almost a match for the Shadow battleships, and with sufficient numerical superiority they would, and were, winning engagements. Just skirmishes at present, but they had proven the efficacy of the ships. At the Council meeting Captain Sheridan was once more going to present a plan for taking the war to the Enemy.

There. Now G'Kar could put his finger on what was troubling him. Sheridan. He seemed.... different since his return from Z'ha'dum. He rarely spoke to anyone, even his closest friends. He spent almost all his time on the Dark Star flagship. He seemed.... distant.

Of course, grief could do these things, not to mention those long months paralysed and helpless, but.... there seemed to be something.... more....

Or was Sinoval's paranoia just affecting G'Kar more than he liked to admit? He had been wondering about the Vorlons recently. His attempts to meet with Ambassador Ulkesh had largely met with failure, and when the Vorlon attended the Council meetings he said even less than was normal. He simply.... watched everyone. Something in his cold glare troubled G'Kar.

But then, did it matter if the Vorlons were playing their own game? They were still offering help, and that help was sorely needed. Without the Dark Star fleet, then.... this would all be for nothing.

What was the price of our lives, he pondered to himself.

He set down the report. Details of the power struggles going on in the Kha'Ri. Kha'Mak was losing favour fast, and H'Klo ascending. Neither was particularly receptive to G'Kar. With Na'Toth's dismissal he had lost his eyes, ears and voice on the Kha'Ri.

He looked up at the timepiece on the wall, and started. The Council meeting was about to begin. How long had he been daydreaming?