Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.
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He stood silently in the doorway, looking at her. She was hard at work, but she looked…. drained. He knew from experience that she had a habit of working on beyond her endurance. Anger flared. Why had Sinoval not recognised this, and done something about it? He calmed himself. He would not be angry around her. He could not be angry around her.
He stood there, watching, for a long time. He did not know how long. Time did not seem to matter. It was only when she stirred and turned to look at the doorway that he returned to his senses.
Her mouth opened wide in mute shock. Her eyes looked…. tired.
"My lady," he whispered softly, his voice choked. He had seen and done many things, and he had been afraid before. He had known great fear, but never so much as in that moment when his lady Kats looked at him.
"You were…. He said you…."
"I am here," he said, walking over to her. His limp seemed not to bother him. She rose from her seat and almost fell against him. He caught her easily and held her there. He did not ever want to let her go.
"He said that you were dead," she whispered. "He told me you were dead."
"He lied. I was never dead…. just a prisoner, and every day I thought about you."
She said nothing for a long time afterwards, but he could hear the sound of her sobs. He was crying himself, but he had no need to say anything. Just to be there, with her, was enough.
For the moment.
They were there, black against the blackness of space, screaming in her mind. They would kill, brutally slaughter the innocent with no mercy, no compassion. They had to be stopped.
Delenn sat in silence on the bridge of the Babylon, looking around at her companions: Commander David Corwin, John's closest friend. He was breathing in and out slowly, his hands clenched into fists. Lyta Alexander, her eyes shrouded in darkness. She seemed to be listening to something that wasn't there.
There were other ships here as well. Drazi, Brakiri, a few Narn. They were ready to make a stand against the Darkness, to take the war to the enemy.
Corwin received a message, and sighed. "They're here," he said.
"Then let's go."
The jump points from hyperspace opened, and the fleets poured out. The Shadows were waiting for them.
Chapter 2
It was almost ironic. She had been preparing for this moment for over thirteen years. During all that time she had imagined their darkness, their terror, their…. evil. Too many of her friends had given their lives in this cause: Lenonn, Draal, Neroon, Marcus….
And now that she was finally taking the war to the enemy, Delenn of Mir had never felt less ready for anything in her life.
Part of that had to do with the circumstances of this battle, which were less than ideal. The Drazi Government had been furious about the orders to hold and prepare and wait. They simply did not have the resources to defeat the Shadows themselves, but they had persisted in trying, and that only resulted in more deaths.
So the Alliance had had to force a showdown, to win some sort of victory, however small, just to prove it could be done. That meant utilising the greatest weapons they had; the Babylon, a ship modified by Shadow technology, and Lyta Alexander, the strongest telepath available.
Delenn had also insisted on coming herself. She was going to send people out to die for her after all. She needed to see it.
There were three Shadow ships. All three turned when the jump points opened. Delenn drew in a deep breath and waited for the battle to begin.
On another ship, a long way away, another person was sitting on the bridge, deep in thought. He had been preparing himself for this war for a long time, longer even than Delenn. Ever since he had been a young child he had dreamed of this moment. His war was nearly at an end, and then he could rest.
Warleader G'Sten of the Narn flagship Pride of the Kha'Rilooked around at the rest of his bridge crew. They all looked so young. They were probably older than he had been when he had begun this war against the Centauri.
They were nearly there. Centauri Prime, the dream he had been chasing for so long. He might have succeeded during the last war, but the attack on Gorash had been too bloody and had taken too much out of the fleet. G'Sten had never been more disappointed than when he had surveyed his fleet and realised they were not strong enough to go for the homeworld. He had turned his back and left, not wanting to see the planet and be unable to grasp it.
This time, this war, he was ready. Victory had followed victory, and he could total the number of worlds taken from the Centauri. It was a most pleasing figure. Gorash 7, Ragesh 3, Frallus 9…. And now Centauri Prime itself.
He was an old man now, and he could retire after this. He would have done his part for the future of his race. They would remember him, maybe even build a statue to him in G'Khamazad. He would like that.
"There's a message for you, Warleader," said his aide, and he looked up. "It's from the Kha'Ri."
"Come to congratulate us, eh?" he asked, smiling — but it was a false smile and false good humour. He had been delayed enough already in the course of this war. Without the unnecessary hesitations and hold-ups he could have taken Centauri Prime months ago. He would not let them deny him this chance again. He knew full well he would not get another one.
"Put them through," he continued. "Here."
"Warleader…. wouldn't you rather…. take it in private?" G'Sten frowned. The aide was new, brought in to replace his former assistant, G'Lorn. He had requested a chance to captain his own ship, and G'Sten had had to agree. He could not deny G'Lorn this chance for glory, a chance that would never come again.