Welles set down his pen and looked up at the door. They were pounding on the other side of it. Men would even now be taking up positions at the back door, the windows and all possible points of escape. All unnecessary, of course. He had no intention of trying to escape.
He wondered what he would be charged with. Treason against the duly authorised Government, under section 2(1) of the Wartime Emergency Provisions 2247. That was a certainty. Aiding and abetting an enemy of the people. Perverting the course of justice.
Oh, he would be charged with whatever they liked. He would be charged, convicted and sentenced to death. Probably several times over.
He didn't mind. In fact he was quite looking forward to it. It would all be over. All of it. The guilt, the fear, the pain, the loss. All gone.
The door burst open and in rushed the Security officers. His men. His own men. He knew all their names, their spouses' names, their children's names and how many pets they all had.
He slowly rose to his feet.
Chapter 3
There was pain, but then he had expected that. They had not gone easy on him, and why should they? The guards had been understandably angry. He had, after all, arranged the escape of a war criminal, a mass murderer and the orchestrator of the destruction of Earth.
All in all he had got off fairly lightly, although they were not done with him yet.
Welles wondered what the public statement would be. Macabee would probably be having heart failure over how to present this to the public. It would probably remain secret for quite some time. Clark would obviously be hoping to recapture Delenn and pretend none of it had ever happened.
He shifted on the cold floor of his cell and winced at the pain in his side. Maybe not broken ribs, but bruised certainly. He knew all about the uses of pain and isolation when it came to interrogations. He would be left alone for a while now, a few days at least, to increase fear, to bring about a sense of solitude and loneliness.
He knew all about interrogation techniques. He had used them all in his time, but he had never imagined he would be subject to them.
His fingers throbbed. He wondered if they were broken, or if there was tendon damage or something. Vicky could have told at a glance of course, but he could only make an educated guess. He had learned a great deal in seven years married to a doctor, and his near–perfect memory helped him recall a lot, but alas, he did not know everything.
'What would you think of me, I wonder?' he whispered, imagining her here. He had not done that for years, it was too painful. He had mentioned her to Bester a few years ago, and that had been the first time he had even thought about her since her death. Now that he had acknowledged her, however, it was impossible to deny her.
'Oh, Vicky,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry....
'I'm so sorry.'
He listened very hard for a reply, but there was none.
Alone, lost, damned, she floated in a world of her own, where the only sound was her son's heart beating, the only word she knew, his name.
David....
She did not know where she was. She knew there were people around. This was a different place from where David had been killed. These were different people. They seemed.... kinder. Wary, yes, but kinder, a mix of revulsion and caring, hatred and sympathy.
One of them she thought she knew, but comprehension eluded her.
He was dead. David was dead. Her son. His heart had stopped beating. He had been changed from her son into a mass of dead cells and sucked from her body. She had felt his heart stop beating.
She didn't know who had done that to him. To her. She didn't know their names, what they looked like, who they were. Did they have children?
A vital point of understanding almost touched her, but then the sound of the heartbeat grew louder, and she slipped away, lost in a dream.
A dream, or a memory.
It was on Z'ha'dum. She and.... two other people.... She thought she knew them, but their names escaped her. She had loved one of them once, loved him very much. She had hated the other. Or maybe not hate, but.... something.
There had been caverns all around them, hot rocks and masses of rubble. Somewhere along the journey she had come upon shiny, reflective surfaces, almost like mirrors. One of her companions.... the one she had once not quite hated.... had paused, trying to think.
Something in the - mirror, if that was what it was - attracted her, and she stepped forward to look at it. She saw a reflection that was herself, and not herself. There was something in the eyes, a wealth of experiences that were not her own. This.... different her had known love, and fear, and joy, and loss, just as she had.... but different.
It had been there for only a moment, and then it had vanished.
Who was this other self? Someone who had made a different choice, days, or weeks, or years ago? Someone for whom things had gone better, or worse?
Could she have done things differently, and become that other self? Would David still be alive if she had done that? Would he even have been conceived?
She did not know. Too many questions she just could not answer. David's heartbeat was growing stronger, and for just one minute she thought she could see the people around her, thought she could name one of
