Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.
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She had told G'Kar though, not long before he had left for Narn. He had looked surprised, and then confessed he had felt exactly the same way.
And, in common with G'Kar, she regretted the lack of a past here. Kazomi 7 reminded them all with every step what the Alliance was for. No one could look at these stones bathed in blood and not be chastened and touched. Kazomi 7 was built on the blood of the innocent and the memories of the survivors.
Babylon 5 was new, far away from Kazomi 7 - in a central position at the heart of numerous trade routes, but still far from the people the Alliance was meant to represent. Perhaps if it had existed sooner, if it had known battle and fear and death and glorious defiance as Kazomi 7 had done, then maybe it could have been the emotional centre it so desired to be.
If the station survived this onslaught, perhaps it might yet become that, and the Alliance might be strengthened by it, but Delenn doubted that very much.
The Alliance was dying, perhaps even dead. The thin, hairline cracks she had seen during the past few years had grown into mammoth fissures. Any attempt to heal them could be no more than plasters to a man missing all his limbs.
But she was a healer. She had discovered that for herself. She was a healer, and she would heal.
She would at least try.
Fortunately there were others who felt as she did. G'Kar, Lethke, Kats, David.... she tried to think of other names but faltered. Surely there were others, or had the entire Alliance become filled with warriors or cynics or opportunists? Had the good men and women become so filled with bitterness that they no longer saw even the possibility of victory without bloodshed?
She missed Lyta - but Lyta was gone, defected to join Sinoval, or so it was said. Delenn could not even find the mind of the woman who had been her closest friend.
She missed Londo, but he was close to death, burdened by his own problems and his own ill–health. She could have acted sooner to help him, to save him, but she had preferred the good of the whole Alliance over the good of one friend, or one friend's people. Just another paper–thin crack that had become a chasm.
She missed John, but he was dead, had in fact been dead for years. She should never have brought him back from the ruins of Epsilon 3. She should have left him there to live always in her memories rather than become the man who had broken her.
No, that wasn't fair, but she was hardly fit to think of him now.
She was not a wife, she was not a mother, she was not a leader.
She was a healer.
There were few, precious few who could help her, but the Alliance had been born from only a few, and perhaps it could be re–born. Lethke would have needed a great deal more stealth to have hidden his meeting from her eyes, although she had not discovered his plan until after she had returned from the garden, limping and hobbling.
These were good people, people who desired peace and tranquillity, and if they worked together....
The smell of the room hit her while she was still in the corridor. At first she hoped it was just an illusion, or a memory, but as she came closer she realised that it was real. She kept hoping, daring to believe it might be something else, right until the moment she reached the still–open door.
These were not bodies, at least not the ones she could see. They were lumps of flesh, ruptured and torn and mutilated. One piece of flesh bore a fragment of Durano's red coat. The blackened Drazi corpse could only be Taan Churok. She wept at the sight of Lethke's body.
Her heart almost stopped when she saw the all–but–headless body of a Narn, but as she looked at it closely, with the cold, dispassionate glance that can only arise from the purest fear, she saw that it was not G'Kar. The clothing and build were different, and this had to be G'Kael.
She could not see G'Kar at all, and there was only one Narn body. Perhaps he had never arrived. Perhaps he still lived. Perhaps....
"G'Kar," she whispered, holding on to that one thought. She did not know how these people had been killed, although she could suspect, but if G'Kar still lived, then maybe their lives' works would still endure.
"He.... lives," rasped a broken voice, and she turned. There was a movement behind a table which had clearly been hurled into the wall with tremendous force. It took Delenn a long moment to recognise the voice.
She moved forward cautiously, lifting the hem of her skirt and picking a slow trail across the mass of flesh. As she got close enough to look behind the table, she saw Kulomani, blood sprayed across his chest and still dripping from numerous wounds.
"At least.... I think so," he said, gasping for breath. Horrible sounds came from his chest, the grinding of countless broken bones, a grisly rasp against the faint drumbeat of his heart. "Heard voices.... from the.... other side of the.... world."
"What happened?" she asked, leaning over to touch him. He shook at the lightest caress on his chest.
"Vorlon," he said, his eyelids fluttering. "Treason.... it said." He sighed. "Can't.... feel my legs." He looked up at her, his eyes filled with sincerity and conviction. "Kill me."
"No," she said firmly, tracing the outline of the table. It was hard to tell where it ended and Kulomani began, but she managed it eventually. Both his legs were broken, probably completely shattered.
"Dying anyway."
"No," she said again, biting her lip and trying to think of some way to move the table gently. Then she looked at the mangled ruin of his lower body, and reached out to touch his upper thigh. "Can you feel that?"
"Feel.... what? You.... have to...."
"No," she said again, her decision made. It might be that he would die anyway, but she would not let him die, and she would not kill him here. "We have seen too many die," she said angrily, her hands exploring the table for a hold. "This Alliance was built after far too many deaths, and it was built to celebrate life. We have all forgotten that, myself included, but it is time to remember. I will not let you die." She found a grip and dug her fingers in sharply.