Гэрет Д. Уильямс
Темное, кривое зеркало.
Том 5
Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.
Prologue - The Missing Year.(не переведено)
Part 1 - Learning How to Live.(не переведено)
Часть 2. Истории Валена.(перевод : Голодный Эвок Грызли,http://hungry-ewok.ru)
Part 3 - On the Edges of Perception.(не переведено)
Part 4 - Hopes, Aspirations and Dreams.(не переведено)
Part 5 - The Three-Edged Sword.(не переведено)
Часть 7. ...да не будет разорвано Богом.(перевод : Голодный Эвок Грызли,http://hungry-ewok.ru)
Часть 8. Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.(перевод : Голодный Эвок Грызли,http://hungry-ewok.ru)
Эпилог : Сказаны последние слова.(перевод : Голодный Эвок Грызли,http://hungry-ewok.ru)
Gareth D. Williams
Prologue : The Missing Year.
2261 was the year the war ended. 2262 was the year the peace began. But for some people the difference between peace and war is very small indeed. Decisions made in wartime look harder in the cold light of day, and the greater the light shining in the galaxy, the greater the shadows cast by it. 2261 was the year the war ended. 2263 was the year the peace fell apart. 2262 was the year in between. The year the dream was born.
GILLESPIE, E. (2293) The Light Ages. Chapter 1 of
vol. 3,
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
? WILLIAMS, G. D. (2291) A Line in the Sand. Chapter 4 of
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
? See also
details concerning Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar's personal feelings about the
construction of Babylon 5.
LAKER, A. (2293) A Shining Beacon in Space. Chapter 14 of
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
It would be a shining beacon in space, a dream given form, a place of peace in a galaxy that had known only war. It would be a symbol of the new age, an age which would at last no longer need to fear shadows.
And it would be called Babylon 5.
G'Kar said the name to himself softly. "Babylon Five." The name sounded right, somehow. Appropriate. He had tried to create a similar dream once before with Babylon 4, but that project had ended in fire and destruction and so many deaths. The cost had drained him, both financially and emotionally. After it had gone he had done.... so little, as if that station had been his greatest and only contribution to the future.
And now it was going to be bettered.
"Babylon Five," he said again.
It was Sheridan's idea, devised by him and Delenn. A new place, unbound by the symbols and memories and imagery of all the old. A completely new centre for the galaxy.
A dream, given birth by people who had long ago forgotten how to dream.
"Dreams are for people who sleep," he whispered, trying remember who had once told him that. The answer came to him soon enough. Londo, of course. "And where are you now, old friend? On the throne you always professed to hate, sending us diplomats and spies in your stead. Why do you not come in person?
"What do you fear so, Londo?"
He looked at the early drawings for Babylon 5 and shivered suddenly. He started and looked around. Kazomi 7 was a hot world, almost as hot as Narn itself. There were no draughts here.
But if not a breeze, then what?
A feeling.
"What do any of us fear?" he asked, his words as hollow as the grave.
There were only graves to answer him.
GOLDINGAY, D. G. (2293) Stalkers on the Rim. Chapter 4 of
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
Captain Jack could be described in many different ways. He himself often used the words 'entrepreneur' or 'wheeler–dealer' or 'a bit o' this, a bit o' that'. Others used the words 'rogue', 'criminal', 'nuisance' and 'a right shifty bastard'. He was, however, definitely a man with an eye on the main chance.
Which had brought him here, to a dead world whose name he could not remember - usually a good thing as far as his employers were concerned - for a rendezvous with a group of Narns even shiftier than he was, on a mission that was both very illegal and very highly paid.
There were numerous political issues involved, which he did not even pretend to understand, it usually being safer that way. Despite having met and - sort of - befriended individuals as powerful as the Blessed Delenn, Emperor Londo Mollari II, Minister Lethke zum Bartrado and General John Sheridan the Shadowkiller, Captain Jack had a profound lack of interest in politics except where it related to his personal solvency.
However, he did understand that some Narns were very unhappy about the Kazomi Treaty that had sealed the peace between them and the Centauri, and wanted to make clear to everyone just how displeased they were. Certain.... artefacts needed shipping to certain Centauri worlds where certain things might be done to make that clear. And for obvious reasons, a non–Narn courier was needed.
Jack preferred not to think of these things as politics because if he didn't, he tended not to think of them as involving real people either. It was a lot easier that way.
And so all this was why he was at Sigma 957, waiting alone in his ship for a Narn ship that was very very late.
That was when he began to pick up the signal.
His communications equipment was specially modified to receive signals across a much wider band than that carried by most ships of his size, but this was nothing he had ever come across before. Muttering to himself, he started trying to tune into it, wondering if the Narns had had to resort to extraordinary measures to get in touch with him.
There were words in there, he was sure of it, even a conversation, but the language, the voices.... all these were beyond him. He felt like an ant trying to understand the words of angels. Falling silent, something touching what remained of his soul, he tried to tune in more clearly, working at the limits of his equipment. All thoughts of his mission left his mind. All he could think of was discovering the nature of this conversation.
He could pick up a little of one of the parties now. It seemed like countless voices speaking through one mouth. Or was it countless mouths speaking with one voice?
Everything stopped, and in one instant all the lights in his ship went out. He started, and began frantically trying to restore power.
Then he looked out at the scene before him.
There was a ship moving across the ecliptic, something so big and so vast it blocked out everything, space and light and stars and all. It glided through the planet's atmosphere, ignoring him utterly, an insect beneath the feet of giants.
Jack hardly dared to breathe, a wise move. As the alien ship moved forward a rent opened in the fabric of space, a vast jump point, bigger than anything he had ever imagined. The image of hyperspace beyond flickered with countless colours, very different from the usual red. Clouds of mist shimmered through the gap in space, and there were flickers of lightning.
Something was waiting in there, in hyperspace. Smaller than the vast alien ship, it was still huge, much bigger than Jack's diminutive shuttle. It looked slightly familiar, almost like a....
A castle?
The vast ship moved slowly into hyperspace, its every manoeuvre beautifully graceful . The gateway closed, and Jack was alone once more.
Alone in a dying ship above a dead world whose name he could not remember.
Fortunately, after a few hours of creative engineering with life support, a squadron of ships from the Narn fleet arrived and picked him up. Jack was so grateful to be rescued that he only had a few seconds to think up some suitably inventive lies.
LADY KEELA SHARNI (2293) Republic in Flames. Chapter 9 of
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
He still saw her eyes all the time. They were shining in his mind, brilliant stars in the heavens of his soul. And sometimes he saw them dull and red, cold and lifeless.
Marrago was old, and he was alone, but he was no longer tired. Indeed, he felt stronger than he ever had. At long last he had a purpose, a goal, a mission. And a simple, unequivocal one at that.
Free Centauri Prime.
It was the beginning of an alliance, a new alliance. A small one admittedly, only three at present, but then a night of a thousand drinks begins with a single sip. Marrago had heard a similar human phrase about miles and steps, which he preferred.
A Minbari, a human, a Centauri, and a flying castle full of Soul Hunters. Perhaps not such a small start after all.
And it would only grow.
Marrago was a tactician and he understood that not everything can be achieved at once. Sinoval understood that as well. It would take time, and in any case this was not a war of force of arms, but a war of ideas and beliefs and understanding.
But there were some similarities in both types of war. They both needed people.
Sinoval had said he would be busy elsewhere, but Marrago knew exactly what to do. He approved.
Mercenaries were easy to find these days. The entire galaxy had been at war for years, and a sudden outbreak of peace was very bad for professional soldiers. All manner of different people, of all different races and armies, were looking for work. Narns would not work for Marrago of course, and nor would many Drazi, but there were some.
It had taken a couple of months, but he had assembled a ten–strong unit, useful for hire as security, bodyguards and the like. Six of them were Centauri, with one Drazi, two Brakiri and a human. A small group, but a good beginning.
"You can.... find things, yes?" the alien was saying, twitching its forelimbs slowly. "Things that.... need finding?"
"We can do that," Marrago replied. "We need to know what it is, and a rough estimate of the risk involved, before we can set a price, of course."
"It is.... a delicate matter. A data crystal, with.... valuable information.... of a not altogether legal nature."
"I see. And what can you tell us about where it is now?"
"I had to leave Istakhr Station in rather.... awkward circumstances. An individual named Stoner took the crystal.... for safe keeping. He has.... vanished. Find him.... and the crystal, and bring the crystal to me."
Marrago nodded. "We can do that."
"And the price?"
"Will be reasonable. We can discuss that later."
"I am not a fool."
"I never believed you were, n'Grath. I hope to do business with you again."
And the price would be reasonable again, Marrago thought. n'Grath was a prominent crimelord, with influence in all sorts of places. He would be a useful ally. It was well worth losing a few ducats here for potential advantage later.
Marrago actually found he was enjoying this new life. No politicking, no dancing around, fearful of saying the wrong thing. All he had to do was complete the commissions he won, build an alliance and an armed force, and stay true to those who served with him.
He found he missed only two things: his garden, and his daughter.
His garden could be rebuilt, and as for Lyndisty.... well, she would not be returning to him, but she would be avenged before this was over.
She would be avenged.
GOLDINGAY, D. G. (2293) The Unholy Inquisition. Chapter 8 of
Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
"Where is he?"
Pain. No screams. She had long ago given up screams, of pain or otherwise.
There were no screams, but there was pain.
"Tell me where he is."
More pain. Light and fire blazed in her mind. Whispers fluttered through her hearing, brief images, feelings from long ago. The touch of his hand on hers. The warmth of his breath on her face. The sheer love in his eyes.
"I do not care how worthy or unworthy you are. I do not care on whatever pedestal you choose to place yourself. I do not care whether you believe yourself to be holy, a messiah, a prophet to bring glory to your name. I do not care what your name is. I do not care who you are. All these things will be attended to by another, in due time.
"For now, I have one mission and one mission alone. That is the only thing I do care about. I came here because you were his closest friend, the one he trusted most, the one he risked a great deal to save. Maybe he even loved you a little, if he is capable of such a thing.
"So, I ask you again.
"Where is Primarch Sinoval? Where has he gone? Where has he hidden himself? What does he plan? What allies does he have? Who are his agents?
"Where is he?"
Again the light burned. The old memories were at the back of her mind, the things that woke her in the middle of the night, trembling and shaking, unshed tears in her eyes.
Kalain was dead, had died in agony of a fatal virus almost two years ago. She had laid him to rest in her memories long ago, silently forgiving him for the tortures he had inflicted on her soul and her body.
But somewhere, at the back of her mind, he still lived, still strong and powerful and capable of hurting her so much. Still strong enough to emerge now, as she was tortured again.