Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке

'What? Al, I work alone. I always have. It's safer that way.'

'Not here. I worry about you, and…. the way things might develop on Proxima, an assistant might be necessary. I trust him implicitly. He's been one of my personal aides for a long, long time. He's a P twelve and a Psi Cop, although he's been specialising in military and personnel protection recently.

'You do remember Byron, don't you?'

* * *

Assassination was an easy thing to arrange among the nobility of Centauri Prime. By means of poison, knotted rope, knife or gun, there were always those who would be willing to kill their fellows for money. Some of course were more professional than others.

And some worked not for money, nor for political gain or personal power, but from a fanatical sense of determination. Such people did not care if they were captured or killed in the process, so long as the target was killed. Three Emperors had died at the hands of such people in the course of the Republic's history.

Little more than two months after his ascension, Emperor Londo Mollari very nearly became the fourth such Emperor.

He was on a tour of the devastated cities of the homeworld, taking in the repair work of areas badly damaged during the rioting and bloodshed that had accompanied the near civil war. Gallia had been an important city, centrally placed, straddling several vital trade routes and containing many of the nobility's private estates. Londo's soldiers had saved the city from assault by the fanatical and insane Shadow Criers, and Gallia had been spared the fate that had engulfed Camulodo and others.

Despite the stability and safety of the city however, there were some who heard the whispers of a greater power in their mind, those who worshipped fire and darkness and who in an enlightened madness acted on the whims of lunacy.

'The Darkness is coming!' cried the ragged figure as he burst through the ranks of the crowd. Guardsmen moved forward instantly, shielding the Emperor, only to be barged aside by the insane strength of the Shadow Crier. A plasma blast seared his shoulder and leg, but still he charged forward.

'The Darkness is coming!' he cried again, as he bore down upon the unmoving Emperor. A small blade glinted in his hand.

'The Darkness is coming!' he cried, lunging at Emperor Mollari, heedless of the guards nearby.

At the last moment a blast struck his arm, tearing the weapon from it. He fell, and the swift actions of the guards succeeded in restraining him.

He continued to spit and cry out as he was led away, but the Emperor did not notice. He turned to the person who had fired the shot that had saved him, and let out a short laugh when he saw who it was.

'Mr. Morden,' he said, looking at the smartly dressed human before him. 'Well well. I have not seen you for some time. Very propitious timing there.'

'A pleasure to see you again,' the human replied. 'Congratulations on your elevation, your Majesty. I come with what may be an interesting proposition from my…. associates.'

* * *

Captain Dexter Smith waited patiently outside the door, ignoring the suspicious glances of the Security Forces watching him. He was more than a little perturbed by the climate here however. He knew he had been away from Proxima a long time, but things hadn't been this divided before, had they? It seemed as if factions were developing, increasing gaps between the Security Force and the military itself.

Symptoms of something larger, perhaps?

Truthfully, he had not really wanted to return to Proxima. He was fully aware of the mistakes he had made, and he had been truly willing to surrender himself for his crew. He had in fact been expecting trial on Kazomi 7, but for whatever reason that had not happened.

And then, when Ambassador Sheridan arrived, one of his purposes had been to release all those imprisoned after the battle. An exchange of prisoners had been made; Smith and a few others for a group of Drazi 'terrorists' and Brakiri merchants who had unwittingly fallen foul of some of the more stringent Wartime Emergency Provisions.

What had happened to the other humans freed from Kazomi 7 he was not sure. Most of his crew had been released voluntarily not long after the battle. Lieutenant Franklin had elected to stay behind, and as far as the Government was concerned, he was dead. There was one other transfer involved, but that was conducted in the utmost secrecy.

The door opened, and President Clark's personal secretary stepped out. 'The President will see you now,' she said.

Smith nodded and walked through the door, glad he had not been required to don his full dress uniform. It would have felt even less comfortable and fitting to him than the standard uniform he was wearing now.

There were three people seated at the table before him. In the middle was President Clark himself, his face carefully expressionless. Smith had met the President before, when he had been awarded the Silver Star for Valour in the final stages of the campaign for Minbar. That meeting had been awkward and unpleasant, and it would doubtless be even more so now.

To the President's right sat General Edward Ryan, former aide to the deceased General Hague and currently head of the military operations of humanity. He was also in personal command of the Morningstar and had been present at the Battle of the Third Line. He looked…. disappointed, but also uncomfortable. It was no secret that he was personally held in little esteem by the Government.

And to the President's left sat Mr. Welles, Chief of Security and holder of various unofficial and secret positions within the Government. Smith was not truly certain how he felt about Mr. Welles. He had come to him shortly before his departure for Epsilon Eridani, and had sought to determine the strength of Smith's loyalty to humanity in a confusing conversation. Smith had been under the impression that, whatever Welles had wanted from him, he had not received it.

'At ease, Captain Smith,' said the President.

'Yes, sir.'

Clark then fell silent, reading from the notes in front of him. It was an exercise in intimidation, obviously, but it wasn't really working. After witnessing the arrival of those massed hordes of inky black, screaming ships in the skies above Epsilon Eridani, very little could intimidate him again.

'Explain your actions at the Epsilon battle, Captain Smith,' said Clark, finally.

'I made…. errors of judgment, Mr. President,' Smith replied carefully. He had rehearsed this nonstop, but actually saying the words came harder and harder. 'I accept full responsibility for the failure of the mission.'

'I see. I have received a full report from General Ryan, who has described your behaviour as…. 'erratic' prior to the beginning of the battle, but he comments on your bravery and courage in forming a rearguard to allow General Ryan, the Morningstar and the Marten to escape once it became clear that all was lost.

'I have very little doubt that you are a good soldier, Captain Smith, and you are clearly a brave man. Your decorations declare as much.' The President looked directly into Smith's eyes, and sighed. 'However, there has been a great deal of…. controversy surrounding you and the Babylon. Numerous minor faults and damage, the mysterious engagement at Beta Durani last year, and of course the presence of a dangerous saboteur among your bridge crew, a saboteur who subsequently escaped from confinement in this very building.'

Mr. Welles looked less than pleased at this.

'However, very little blame for this can be attached to you, Captain. In retrospect, making the Babylon our flagship was a mistake on my part. I had hoped that it would have positive connotations for the public, and serve as a useful rallying point. In doing so, I overlooked the fact that it is an old ship, and too closely associated with the…. famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Captain Sheridan. Expecting you to take over his position was too great a burden for any man.

'You are not to be court-martialled, or called to account for any of your errors of judgment, Captain Smith. Many…. strange decisions can be made in the heat of battle. You will be honourably discharged with full rights and pension. You have been a good and loyal servant of humanity in this difficult time, Captain, and all humanity owes you great gratitude.