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

after his failed attack here several months ago. It is a pity, really. I admired him. And we old men should stick together. Anyway, the new commander is probably G'Sten's protegee Na'Tok. He is a little sharper and more prone to risk–taking, but his current strategy is both conservative and deeply flawed. He is trying to hold on to all their captured territories, probably by the order of the Kha'Ri again. His efforts to do so are admirable, but vulnerable.

'Especially at risk to our counterattack is Ragesh Three. Again. On the other hand, I am certain he will be expecting that, and until I know more about Warleader Na'Tok I am inclined to focus my attentions elsewhere.

'Tolonius Seven. My scouts inform me it is sparsely defended, and has recently been troubled by rioting and unrest. The Narn ground forces are severely stretched and by all accounts underprovisioned and undermanned.

'I think we can retake Tolonius Seven. Na'Tok and the Narns will soon find out that capturing territory is easy. Keeping it is much harder.'

'So.... do you think I will be able to deliver a united Republic to my successors?'

'Londo....' Marrago sighed, and looked down. 'I very much doubt we will be able to regain all our lost holdings within either of our lifetimes. We will be at war for as long as we both live, and probably for so long as our children live. The Republic is dying.... and all we can do is hold as much of it as we can, for as long as we can.'

'What about peace? The Narns seemed to be.... open to some sort of negotiation. We will have a permanent embassy on Kazomi Seven within months, and then.... backed by the Alliance....'

'The Alliance is already at war, and I do not think the Narns want peace. Even if they do, can our two races ever be at peace? There is too much hatred, too much anger, too many memories. No, Londo, I do not think so. If I did, and if there was anyone I could pass this burden on to, I would have done as G'Sten did, and retire.'

'Retire? Great Maker, Marrago, a peaceful life would bore you to tears!'

The Lord–General sadly shook his head. 'No. No, Londo. I would like nothing more than to sit in my garden, to watch my daughter marry, to raise grandchildren and to watch them grow strong and wise in a better and finer Republic than I knew. A comfortable chair, a fine sunset and hope for the future, that is all I ask for.'

'It sounds....' Londo sighed. 'Ah, it sounds wonderful. I tell you what, Marrago. By the end of the year, by then, we will have peace with the Narns and all the wars will be over. You can go to your garden, and I will bring along a comfortable chair and join you there. I can flirt with your daughter, leer at women far too young for me, play too many card games and drink too much brivare. How does that sound?'

Marrago laughed. 'Your tastes are a little.... different from mine, but it takes all sorts. You will be welcome in my garden, Londo, but flirt with my daughter and I am afraid I will have to challenge you to a duel.'

'What?!' Londo cried in mock outrage. 'You would challenge your own Emperor?'

'Not even the Emperor could insult the honour of my daughter and live.'

'Very well, I accept your challenge. brivare bottles at twenty paces!'

Marrago let out a booming laugh. 'Alas, then I concede. I could never best you with such weapons. You may flirt with my daughter all you like. Tell me, will you be bringing that chair with you?'

'This thing?' Londo patted the armrest of the Purple Throne. 'Good Gods, no. A less comfortable chair I have never sat in. You will have to provide me with one.'

Marrago nodded, smiling. 'A fine image, Londo. By the end of the year I will give you as much of a free Republic as I can. Then.... we can grow old together.'

'Yes. We shall.'

Marrago bowed, and turned from the throne room. 'Tolonius Seven shall be ours again within weeks, Majesty. I promise you that. I will not fail.'

'I never supposed you would,' Londo muttered as Marrago left. 'I never for one moment believed you would.'

* * *

David Corwin, Captain of the Dark Star 3, re–named the Agamemnon, hero of numerous battles he did not care to recall, walked into the room where his oldest friend, former Captain and greatest inspiration was sitting.

Captain John Sheridan was seated at his desk, perusing a report. He did not look up as his friend entered. Corwin looked at him, and noticed the several days' growth of beard on his chin and the dark, haunted look in his eyes. It did not seem as if he was eating well these days.

Of course, there were reasons for the Captain's depression. After spending several months in a coma, close to death, he had recovered, only to lose the woman he loved and find himself thrust into a bloody war against a powerful enemy.... Well, there were bound to be some.... mental and emotional problems. Stress–related, probably.

But Corwin couldn't shake his uneasy feeling as he walked further into the room.

'We were ambushed just on the edge of the Vega system,' the Captain said, his voice scratchy and hoarse where once it had been commanding. 'We lost Dark Stars Seven and Thirteen. Dark Star Eleven was badly damaged, perhaps it can't be recovered. They lost over half their crew.'

He looked up suddenly, as if realising that Corwin was there. 'Please tell me you've got good news, Captain,' he said. 'If it's bad news, then.... ah hell. If it's bad news give it to me anyway. Do we still control Kazomi Seven?'

'Last I heard.'

John nodded, smiling. The smile seemed incongruous on his haunted features. 'Good. Let's hear it then.'

'We destroyed the observation post in Sector Forty–five. Dark Star Twenty–four was lost, and there were various damages and casualties, but the mission was a success.'

The Captain breathed out and sat back in his chair. 'Ah, that's good. They're now completely blind on that approach to the Vega system. Good. We'll need to prepare a small raiding party quickly to harry the military installations around Vega Twelve. Not a serious full–on attack, but.... Yes, we need to lure their forces away from the colony itself.'

'Captain,' Corwin said softly. 'We're spreading ourselves too thinly. We're throwing the Dark Stars at everything we can, at countless different targets, and we're taking casualties. Sooner or later, we won't have any left.'

'Hmm? Oh, there's no need to worry. There'll be a new fleet coming through. The Vorlons promised it by the end of the year, maybe sooner. We won't run out of ships.'

'And what about people? Just how are we going to crew these ships? G'Kar only has so many Rangers, there are only so many experienced soldiers and.... we're taking too many heavy losses. Is there going to be anything left when we're done?'

'I know things are looking.... difficult. We just need to.... keep up the pressure, keep them off balance. We're hurting them as well. We'll be able to take the Vega system completely in a month or so - according to my reckoning - and from there to some of the outer mining colonies, Arisia for one. Proxima by the end of the year.'

Corwin sighed and rubbed at his eyes. 'Captain.... what about Delenn?'

'Dammit, David, we've had this conversation.'

'G'Kar has some Rangers placed inside the Vega system. The news is still reporting that they have Delenn a prisoner.'

'It's propaganda, David. You know that. Delenn's dead.'

'Why would they lie about something like this? Surely they knew we would have to react. It's practically inviting war with the Alliance. They wouldn't do this unless they were telling the truth. Look, we could send a small group of Rangers into Proxima, try and find out the truth, try and rescue her....'

'No, we can't risk the Rangers on a pointless suicide mission. You said yourself there weren't enough of them.'

'John, what do you think they're doing to her in there? They're going to be torturing her, trying to get her to confess to all sorts of things. The news said she was going to be put on trial for war crimes. They're going to execute her. John, listen to me!'

'Shut up!' the Captain roared suddenly, leaning forward and sweeping all the reports on the desk to the floor. 'Shut up and listen to me! I am your superior officer and you will damn well listen to me!