Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.

She nodded weakly.

"So then, what can I do for you?" Slowly, desperately, knowing that it might be a mistake but willing to chance it anyway, she removed her helmet, so much wanting to see him directly instead of through a visor.

"I…." She tried to think of what to say, but the words would not come out. So much had not happened yet, there was so much she had not yet done that she would regret. Marcus was…. still alive.

"I'm sorry, David," she whispered, tears running down her face. "When I…. left you, we argued. I'm sorry for what I said."

"Ah…. that's all right," he said, bemused. "Susan, you look…. different. This has to do with Babylon Four, doesn't it? What's happening?"

"It's…. I can't explain. Think of me as…. as…." A brief memory of Marcus came to her mind, a book he had been reading while he was assigned to look after her — or to spy on her, depending on your point of view. But David was hardly a greedy miser, and she was no spirit, benevolent or otherwise, and she could not change him. What had been…. was, and she could not alter it.

"I'm a ghost," she said, trying to beat back tears. "I'm just a ghost passing through. Forget I was ever here."

"I'll never forget you, Susan," he said, and he was so sincere, so genuine….

She blinked away her tears, and knew what she had to do. He had shown her the way, although he would probably never know how. To be truthful, she probably never would either. "I need to get back to Babylon Four," she said. "There's…. something I have to do."

"Can I help?"

She shook her head sadly. "You already have. More than you can know."

He nodded. "I'll…. always be around to help you, no matter what's been going on lately. I have hope for the future, Susan. Everything will turn out for the best, I'm sure of that."

"Keep believing that…. and maybe…. may…. be…."

She fell silent, and did not speak again until she arrived back on Babylon 4, almost exactly at the spot where she had ambushed and captured Sheridan. The Narn was waiting there for her, as were Valen and Zathras.

"I surrender," she said quietly. "I'm turning myself over to you."

"Told you," said Zathras happily. "Zathras knows best. Oh yes. People should listen to Zathras more. Zathras knows what Zathras is saying."

* * *

A ruined ship was floating aimlessly, just one pile of debris among so many, just one more mark of the lost and the damned in this battle. In the remains of what had once been the bridge of the EAS Parmenionthere was a body, the body of one who had once been the greatest hope of his people.

Captain John Sheridan was trapped between life and death. He was not breathing.

There was a sudden and brilliant flare of light, the very last act of a dying angel.

And then there was silence once more.

* * *

"He is not dead," she said softly. "I can feel it. I know. He is not dead."

Commander David Corwin nodded once, briefly. He wanted to believe her, even if he was not sure he could. No one could have survived that, could they? If anyone could, it would be the Captain.

"He…. is not dead."

Delenn was not crying.

"We will find him."

Corwin nodded again. "Yes," he said. "Yes, we'll find him."

* * *

He stood alone, as he always would from now on. Everything that had once been a part of him was gone. Jeffrey Sinclair was gone. His future was gone. From now until his death, he would always be Valen.

They had arrived in the past safely, and had found two Vorlon cruisers waiting for them. The Vorlons had come aboard, and formally introduced themselves to him. He knew one of them. It was Kosh, whose life essence was now finally fading with the temporal rift. But that was a thousand years in the future.

I will not be your puppet,he thought to himself as he looked at his new companions. B ut I will do what is ordained. I will end this war, and build peace here. It might not last forever, but a thousand years might just about be enough.

What had happened at Epsilon 3? Who had survived? What would become of Kazomi 7 with its ray of hope, and of Delenn, and Sheridan, and poor, doomed Primarch Sinoval?

He would never know.

After their arrival Zathras had spent a lot of time messing around with the ion engines. The first meeting with the Minbari was a fair distance away in normal space. It had taken the station some hours to get to the required area, and Zathras spent the whole journey tutting, clicking and muttering to himself.

And now he was waiting. The first Minbari ship had chanced upon the station, and its occupants were coming aboard. Two warrior caste of course, leaders of different clans, warring clans that he would eventually unite. The greatest, proudest, strongest warriors of this age.

And he would destroy them both.

Both of them came into view, looking bemused, and more than a touch angry. Each was only barely tolerating the other's presence. He could see them clearly now, just as he could see them later. Their fight back to back on the blood-stained sands of Iwojim, ending with the two mortal enemies clasping hands astride an ocean of the dead.

Enemies now, soon to be friends, and later, to be traitors.

But their deaths would not be in vain, neither of them. He could see that now. It was all part of a vast tapestry, a multitude of threads that led back to the present, and the future, and beyond….

Parlonn's betrayal to the Shadows, brought about by rational reasoning and an acceptance of their cause, was necessary to convince Marrain to ally with them, an alliance wrought out of jealousy and envy. And that was necessary for one man who would arise a thousand years in the future, and begin a destiny that would affect the next thousand years.

Threads within webs, creating an infinite tapestry, of which he was only the smallest of parts.

"I welcome you," he said, and they started. Marrain raised his hand to his weapon. "And present this place to you as a gift."

They stood still, looking at the Gods of beauty at his side, each realising that something very special had just happened. They could feel the course of history turning beneath their feet. Neither had any idea of where it would take them, or that the salvation of their people would mean the damnation of their souls.