Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.
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"I am a healer, you see."
She forced the table up with all her strength. Kulomani let out a loud cry and his head flopped backwards, but she managed to get the table clear, pushing it away to one side.
His legs looked even more ruined from here, but as she looked closer she saw it might not be as bad as she had initially feared. The bones were smashed, but no limb was severed, and she knew Brakiri bones to be very supple. With time and rest they would probably knit. He might even walk again - or he might not.
"Commander Kulomani," she said, looking down at him. He did not reply, and she wondered if the blood loss or shock had finally killed him, but his eyelids fluttered. "Commander Kulomani."
"Empty," he whispered. "You.... are empty."
She took his hand and pulled him up so that he swayed against her, barely upright.
"I am filled with my purpose," she said firmly. "What else do I need?"
His head bobbed, and he seemed to be nodding. "What.... else.... indeed?"
You will obey us
She took a deep breath. She should be angry. No one could fault her for being angry. In fact, no one could fault her for being absolutely bloody furious. And she was.
But she was also ready. Unlike last time, she understood the need for this. Sinoval could not be everywhere, and his mystique drew on his personal power and force of will as much on legend. He had to be seen. Besides, he obviously had things to do which were more important than leading his bloody fleet.
She knew the objectives, and the reasoning behind it. Babylon 5 was the centre of the Alliance, an important symbol. It was also the current location of a lot of important people who would have to be rescued.
Susan had a very uncomfortable feeling she would have to destroy the station in order to save it.
She looked out at her fleet, trying to breathe slowly. Sinoval thought her capable of this. He must have done, or he would not have gone on ahead. He certainly wouldn't have jeopardised everything just for a single blaze–of–glory mission, would he?
She gritted her teeth, and began to speak.
"Is everyone ready?"
Her voice would go out across her fleet. All of them could hear her, and she could hear all of them.
"We are ready," replied the cold, dead, emotionless voice of Marrago, leader of the ragtag army formed from the remains of the Brotherhood Without Banners.
"To war we go, with no fear or doubt," said another. "May our ancestors watch over us." Susan had no doubt that Marrain and the Tak'cha were ready and fearless.
"Yes," came a simple reply, spoken no doubt through teeth as gritted as her own. Vizhak had watched his homeworld fall under the grip of the Vorlons, only barely managing to escape himself. He had been another of Sinoval's private projects, but he had worked to gather as many of his people as he could. Hungry and angry and filled with desire for revenge.
The Soul Hunters did not reply, but Susan could feel their acceptance vibrating through the Well. They would go through anything for their Primarch.
What a mess this was. In one way or another the three commanders of the fleet were all dead men, trapped and lost in grief. They were the renegades and the monsters and the bandits and the dispossessed.
They were an army of freaks.
Susan touched the pattern of scars on her face and felt the whisper of her mother's touch in the back of her mind.
She was a freak as well.
"You all know the plans," she said. "Hold the Vorlons back from the station, assemble a boarding party. If we can drive the whole fleet away, so much the better, but that's secondary. There's a list of people we have to get off the station before the really heavy fighting begins."
She paused.
"And if a single one of you puts revenge above the overall plan, I'll personally skin him alive.
"Let's go."
You will obey us
Sinoval lifted his head and opened his eyes. Around him he could hear the screams, the waiting, anticipating
things
from elsewhere, from behind the barriers of hyperspace. The
things
the Vorlons had brought through.
The human was standing there, still, not breathing, a faint, satisfied smile on his face.
"You would be Sebastian," Sinoval whispered.
The journey through hyperspace had never felt like that before. The Aliens were nearer than he had suspected. He had seen their city in the dreamscape where Sheridan and he had been imprisoned, but that had not been entirely real, just the reflection of the night sky in a lake filled with the black blood of the dying.
The things that had reached out to him in hyperspace were real, terrifyingly real, and close to breaking through.
"I am. Inquisitor Sebastian of the Order of Seekers for Truth and Penitence, to allow myself my full title."
"Of course." Sinoval coughed, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to remember how to force his heart to keep beating. "Formality." He sat back on his heels. "Sinoval, once of the Wind Swords, Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, Lord of Cathedral."
"Formality indeed," Sebastian intoned. "It is always good to meet with politeness, with someone who recognises that manners are inherently necessary in a diplomatic meeting such as this. In the interests of formality, may I inform you that the Lights Cardinal of the Vorlon High Command have ordered you placed under arrest for various and sundry crimes against the natural order of the galaxy. You are to be transported to Their August Presence, alive if possible, but should you resist I am to take you to them dead. Do you understand me?"