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

Donne concentrated for a moment, suddenly aware of how to do this. Her consciousness seemed to shift and she was able to step forward, leaving the Machine. She looked back and saw…. herself there. Turning, she regarded her three remaining companions, studying them with senses that were not her own, but extensions of the Machine. All her senses seemed heightened and…. changed. Even her psi abilities were different somehow. She couldn't identify clearly how, she just knew that they were.

"I know what you all want," she said, the words seeming to come from a great distance away. "You…." she raised a holographic arm and pointed at Number One, "your claim to idealism is misplaced. You want a cause, something to fight for. You…." Number Two"…. You want someone to tell you what to do, to give you direction so that you don't have to think about how worthless your life is. And you, Narn, you want revenge, a chance to prove your superiority to those who exiled you."

"Very true," Tu'Pari admitted, smiling. "However, you left out one detail. I also want a huge pile of money. Help provide me with that and you have my services, lady."

"Hold on!" snapped Number One. "We had a deal. This wasn't in it."

"I'm a businessman," the Narn said. "We learned all about how business works from the Centauri. Good faith is an illusion. I have done my share of this contract, so I am open to negotiations. Besides, you can't have failed to grasp the obvious. If we don't agree to help her, then none of us will leave this planet alive."

"Very perceptive," Donne acknowledged. "Think about it, but don't try anything silly. I have…." she looked back at her body in the Machine and felt a moment's trepidation, "some learning to do.

"And then a signal to send."

* * *

Kats, formerly Satai of the Grey Council, knew weakness when she saw it — and she had seen plenty of it.

There had been a time when she had been held prisoner, her body and soul abused, tormented, tortured. She had dared to lift her head and silently plead for aid from those around her, those who should have been horrified by this mockery of their most sacred place. Many had believed it was what she deserved. Two had recognised her plight, and had made plans accordingly. But two…. two knew that what was happening was wrong, but did nothing, because they were weak and afraid. Later they had tried to redeem themselves, but too late.

The man standing before her was not one of those two, but had he been in the place of Gysiner or Chardhay, he would have reacted in exactly the same fashion. He was weak.

"I bid you welcome to this place, in the service of Holy One Sinoval," said Administrator Callenn formally. He bowed. Holy One Sinoval. He did not even have the courage to call Sinoval by the title he had now adopted — Primarch.

Beside Kats, Kozorr bristled with anger, but she gently touched his arm. She was the diplomat, and although she despised Callenn as much as he did she did not let it mar her temper.

"In his name, it is a pleasure to be here," she replied. Callenn's face smiled, but his eyes showed that he lied. Tarolin 2 had sworn fealty to Sinoval out of fear and weakness, not courage or strength. Callenn had been afraid — of the Drakh, of the humans, of the raiders — and only Sinoval possessed the strength to guard him and his colony.

Still, Tarolin 2 was an old colony, and a powerful one. A reasonably safe place for many of the refugees fleeing from the devastation of Minbar. As long as the leaders knew to whom they owed fealty.

"We have prepared all the records you requested of us. My acolyte here, Ashan, will be happy to show them to you, and help you if you have any questions."

"I thank you for your foresight, Administrator. Primarch Sinoval also thanks you for your loyalty." Callenn visibly flinched at the sound of Sinoval's title.

"Well," he said, evidently searching for a suitable phrase. Kats could tell that Kozorr was enjoying Callenn's discomfort. "We have…. always been loyal to the Holy…. er, the…. Primarch here. Always loyal."

"Your loyalty is beyond question," she said, trying not to smile. "If you do not mind…. it has been a long journey and we are tired…."

"Of course, of course. Quarters have been arranged for you and your staff. Ashan will show you to them. Ashan!" The acolyte stepped forward and bowed briefly.

"This way, Satai," he said, gesturing to them to follow him.

At that very moment the entire top half of the Administration Building was blown apart. In the heavens, jump points began to open and Tak'cha ships flooded in.

The Minbari civil war had just begun.

* * *

It was almost dawn on Kazomi 7. Valen stood at peace, watching the suns rise. He closed his eyes and let their warmth caress him.

There had been another time, he knew, when he had enjoyed watching the rising of the sun. He had always been an early riser and had often been outside, watching, at dawn. Then he had gone into space, and he had grown accustomed to being in darkness. Now, he was content to see light again.

Are you ready?asked the booming voice in his mind. It felt as though a breeze of air was brushing through his skull, bearing just a trace of melody with it. There were hints of regret in the voice.

"Ready for what?" he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew. No, he wasn't ready. He wanted the uncertainty of the future, rather than the finality of the past. He didn't want to walk into the desert, knowing he would be following his own footsteps all the way.

It is almost time.

"No! I'm not ready. I'm not going back. I'm…." He stopped, and bowed his head. He would have to go back, he knew that. Destiny, the future, the past…. everything depended on him. He had never asked to be this fulcrum, but still, it had been thrust upon him.

"Yes. I'm ready."

No. But you will be. Know the past. Know the future. Be one with yourself. Then you will be ready.

He did not ask what that meant, as no explanation would have been forthcoming even if he had. Sighing, he felt the voice leave him, and he turned back to the sunsrise.

Know the past. How could he know the past? He could barely remember anything before stepping into the Temple of Varenni. Fragments, nothing more. He could remember more about people he had never met than about the people who had once shared his heart. Marrain, Nukenn, Zathras…. all these were more alive to him than the brother he barely recalled, or his parents, or…. Catherine….

"Catherine," he whispered. She more than anyone else he should be able to remember. He had tried pushing back the boundaries of his memories, but to little avail. Her name, her eyes, the faintest hint of her scent…. nothing else.