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

"Babylon Four was built as a place of war just as much as a place of peace. We can do that."

Delenn nodded and smiled, noting that some of the Rangers were already on post. She did not involve herself, but she did walk to the front of the control room, the better to see the state of the battle, and those who were dying.

G'Dok barked out something in his own language. He was evidently concerned. Delenn was about to ask him what he had discovered, when she suddenly realised she did not need to.

There was a blur of light, streaking towards the Brakiri ship. Before her eyes it exploded in a brilliant burst of flame, the hull torn apart, the engines bursting into flames, the entire ship consumed in the space of a few seconds.

Lethke cried out and turned away, reeling.

"What was that?" Delenn asked, unable to comprehend what she had just seen.

"From the planet," said G'Dok. "From the…. Machine."

Delenn trembled and fell back against the wall.

* * *

From Selini, the soldiers moved. North, across the sea, on a mission of mercy and salvation, to the aid of their people on the mainland.

Sphodria, a port city. A vibrant place of trade, a cosmopolitan town where few looked out of place. Records had once put the alien population of Sphodria at thirty-nine percent, more than twice that of any other city save the capital. None of them was here now, everyone who could having left before things got this bad.

The soldiers arrived from Selini by airship, flyer and boat, moving through the city, establishing order and peace wherever they went. Had they been a few hours earlier they might have had more effect, but they were still the only hand reaching out to the city in this dark hour.

They found the Shadow Criers, lunatics crying of the coming Darkness. Those they found, they killed. Some surrendered after the first shot, pitifully begging for mercy on bended knees. Others stood staring at the soldiers, began to laugh, and lit the torch to burn their physical shells. Those who could be taken alive were imprisoned swiftly. Trials could wait.

The hospitals were secured and the surviving staff rescued. Medical staff from Selini were rushed in quickly and tried to deal with the wounded and dying as best they could. The numbers needing help were overwhelming.

Two hours after entering the city Lord-General Marrago stood in the Governor's house, looking at the mess of flesh and bone that had once been the Governor's wife, children and servants. The body of the Governor himself had been outside the house.

The Darkness is coming.

The words had been written countless times on the walls, on the floor, the furniture. Marrago felt those words, and shivered.

Then, the city in reasonable peace and order, Marrago handed it over to the captain of the Selini Governor's Guard, and took half of the occupying soldiers north-west, making for the heartland, and Gallia. That city needed their help as well.

The entire planet needed their help.

* * *

Lyta Alexander screamed as the golden light engulfed her. The cries of the Brakiri and human and Drazi and Narn dying echoed in her mind, but rising above them all were the sonorous tones of the Vorlon, reminding her of the necessity of her role, and the need to protect this place.

Her will stopped the Martenhead on, paralysing the vessel. Captain Walker Smith shouted furiously at his technicians and engineers, but they could do nothing. The only beings on the ship with the knowledge to correct the block were paralysed themselves, the instructions of their Keepers shut out by Lyta's telepathic pulse.

The Parmenionswept down on the Martenand with swift, measured shots, blasted away both broadside cannon, front and aft weaponry and as much of the jump engines as it could. Then, leaving the beautiful, terrifying ship dead in space, it moved on.

On a smaller scale the Starfuries clashed, human against human, perhaps friend against friend. Flight-lieutenant Neeoma Connally guided the Starfury squadrons from the Parmenionagainst those of the Corinthianand Morningstar. Thankfully those from the Babylonwere largely engaged in skirmishing with those from the station. She did not think she could have borne fighting them. The face of her father ever before her, she pressed onwards.

On board the Babylon, Captain Dexter Smith could feel the ghost in his chair very close to him, as he tried to manouevre his ship into a position to meet the Parmenion. Elsewhere on the bridge, Lieutenant Stephen Franklin was not displeased that they were not able to do so yet.

Taan Churok and his Drazi companions rained devastating blows on the Corinthian, only to be met with equal and more savage response.

From the surface of Epsilon 3, terrifying weapons of mass destruction soared into space.

* * *

She slept without dreams, for the first time she could remember since Kalain and the Council. No dreams of pain, of him mocking her and her caste. No dreams of Sinoval, or Kozorr, the two truest friends she had ever had in her life.

No dreams at all.

Until she was awoken.

Sonovar strode past the cringing wounded as if they were not there. To him they truly were not. Workers, mostly, priestlings, some…. a warrior here and there. Not a true warrior, but an aspirant to that title. He was somehow disappointed, but then he remembered that Tarolin 2 had survived the war more or less intact, a survival brought about by cowardice, deception and weakness. They had joined Sinoval for the same reason.

Unfortunately that meant that most of those here were guilty only of cowardice, not treason. Still, when fate took him to Owari and the other worlds Sinoval claimed, the situation would be very different. True warriors at last.

Someone stepped forward to meet him, a man wearing the brown smock of a worker. He actually dared to meet Sonovar's eyes, and although he was obviously afraid, he stood and spoke anyway. Sonovar found himself liking this man.

"We are a hospital here. We care for the wounded only. We mean you no harm. We mean harm to no one."

"You build, yes? We fight, and they pray, and you build. Tell me, worker, which path is strongest, do you think?"

The worker cringed, but Sonovar had to admit he would look frightening to such a man. As well as two of Kalain's former Grey Council beside him, there were three Tak'cha, glaring around angrily at those they saw as having denied Valen's will. They probably haddenied Valen's will, but they had also denied Sonovar's will, and that was more serious.

"We mean you no harm, lord," the worker said hesitantly. "There is no reason for you to…. harm us in return."