Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)

Maybe this is just unwanted paranoia.

Still, she had to admit that her journey to Julie's had been…. uneventful. The transport tubes had all been in operation. No one had stopped or questioned her, not even any of the beggars who usually infested the transport stations. The security guards doing routine and random ID checks had passed her by. Everything was…. normal.

So why hadn't she calmed down yet?

The door to Julie's apartment was just in front her. No one suspicious was hanging around nearby. There was nothing to indicate that this was anything other than an ordinary night.

So why hadn't she calmed down yet?

Breathing in deeply, Catherine rang the chime. She wasn't expecting an immediate reply — it was late, after all, and Julie might well be asleep. She was therefore surprised to hear, within moments, "Who is it?"

"Catherine," she answered. "Look, I know it's late, but I have to come in. This might seem strange, but…."

"No problem." The door opened and Catherine, without really thinking, stepped inside. Julie was standing there, in the centre of the room. She was still fully dressed and obviously hadn't been woken up. The room was quite dark.

Catherine made sure the door had closed behind her, then she staggered in and collapsed into a chair.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked. "Catherine, what…?"

She was crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried — possibly even before the fall of Earth. But she was crying now. "I'm…." she began. "I'm in trouble…. so much trouble…. Dan, he's…. he's…."

"What?" Julie's voice was strangely flat — emotionless even — but Catherine didn't notice.

"He's…. dead!"

"Oh, my God. Have you called Security?"

"I don't…. I think they might have…. they might…. be involved…. somehow. I think this is connected to…." She suddenly looked up, something playing around the edges of her mind. "Julie, has someone been here?"

"No." Too quick. Too emphatic. Too…. certain.

"No? Someone…. I can…."

Catherine leapt to her feet, darting for the door, acting on an instinct she could not explain. Someone stepped out of the shadows to intercept her.

"Hello, Catherine," said Morden.

"That is unacceptable, Minister!"

"Unacceptable? Maybe, but it is the truth, nonetheless. Our resources are limited, Delenn. Running out they are. We cannot accommodate all these refugees."

Delenn fought to restrain a burning anger, one fired by injustice and suffering and the sight of her people reduced to begging for mercy from aliens.

One also fired by Minister Vizhak, Minister for Internal Affairs, arguing against admitting the wretched exiles of her people.

"They are fleeing from the same darkness that has claimed everyone here," she continued. "The Drakh destroyed this world. We all remember what they did here. Can we possibly wish that fate on others? We…. my people…. have suffered the same fate as this planet, and if we cannot offer them sanctuary, then how can we live with ourselves?"

"They have other options," persisted Vizhak.

"Yes," Delenn acknowledged. "They have slavery, they have death, or they have here. Which would you choose, Minister?"

"They can go to Sinoval. He claims to be their leader. Let him have them."

A chill crept up Delenn's spine. "No! They have come here in rejection of Sinoval. I will not send them to him."

"We cannot accommodate them! We cannot feed them. We cannot clothe them. They cannot come here."

Delenn flicked a glance at the Brakiri Minister for the Economy, Lethke. He rose slowly to his feet. "It is true that our economic situation is…. tight, to say the least. We have just begun the extensive trading programme my team and I have devised. As yet…. our resources are limited. We can accommodate some of those who have come here for sanctuary. But not all."

"We need more revenue?" Delenn asked. Lethke nodded. "Then we will have more revenue. We will find a way, but we will take in the refugees."

"We went to help the Minbari because we thought they would be allies," said Vizhak. "Not burdens."

"We went to help them because it was right and just that we do so! We will help all we can."

"But the cost?"

"We will find it," Lethke said. "Accept all you can, Delenn. We will find the money from somewhere."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you. Besides, Minister Vizhak, my people will not burden you. Many of those who come here are from the worker caste. They will be happy to work."

He grunted. "Then let them work."

Morden stood over the body and sighed, his eyes for one brief moment still glowing golden.

"Well," he said, "that was constructive, at least."

"Your orders, sir?" asked the security guard, Jack.

"My orders…." His eyes flashed golden again, and he smiled. "Yes, she is the right one. We had to be sure, obviously. Still, my…. associates think she's been through enough now. You…. did record the direction she ran, of course?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. Then pick her up some time tonight. Whenever's most convenient. You know where to take her." He clicked his tongue lightly. "Yes, quite a productive evening."

He looked down at Julie Musante's dead body and nodded briefly.

They are my children, my people. We are special, unique, better than the others.

Alfred Bester was confused, an emotion most unfamiliar and most unwelcome. Especially now. He had always been so sure, so convinced of his place in life. As far back as he could remember, he had been clear and precise of thought. The Corps was mother, the Corps was father. He obeyed the Corps. He trusted the Corps. He believed in the Corps.

The Corps was gone now of course, but a part of it remained, in him, and in this place — Sanctuary. A legacy of numerous Corps projects, outfitted and renovated with resources secreted away long ago, allowed to endure at the behest of a strong Narn ally and a weak Resistance Government.

But things were changing. Their Narn ally was growing weaker, over-extending himself, risking everything in a futile war. G'Kar had been demanding more and more telepathic DNA from Bester and Sanctuary. His attempts at creating Narn telepaths had been successful at first, but the success was terminally short term. The quest would ultimately consume him.

And the Resistance Government…. they were growing stronger and stronger. Freed from the shackles of slavery, they now approached the Narn Government from a position of power rather than weakness. They had cannibalised Minbari ships and colonies and technology and were building a fleet at an extraordinary rate. Sooner or later, Bester knew, they would go up against G'Kar himself.

And there was little doubt who would win. The Resistance Government — if their war machine continued advancing at the projected rate — would soon be an even match for G'Kar's known resources. But with the aid of their Shadow allies….

Bester's resources — his two capital ships and his telepaths — could tip the conflict one way or the other.

Telepaths are my children. We are the future. We are the destiny.

His commscreen suddenly began flashing at him, and he started irritably. He knew who it would be, and he was right.

"Greetings, Mr. Welles," he said, smiling. Welles was not supposed to know this frequency, but he had found it out somehow. Very few secrets were safe from Proxima's Chief of Security.