Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам - Гэрет Уильямс

G'Kar's throat was full and choked. He could say nothing in reply.

"You still think I am wrong. I know you. I loved you with everything I was, but I hated you too for being so weak. How is it possible to feel such conflicting emotions for one person?"

"I don't know," he said, balancing the sword in his hands.

"I wish I did.

"I love you, G'Kar.

"Make it clean."

He swung. The blow was clean. It was over instantly.

The sword fell from his hands and he sank to his knees, despair beyond rational thought overwhelming him. Was this all his life had been for? Was this all he had ever created, all he had ever achieved? The death of his world, the death of his beloved, the death of his dreams.

He did not even look up when the door opened to admit the three soldiers. He did not know why they did not address him, or why they spared no glance for Da'Kal's headless body.

The first soldier kicked him in the chest, and he fell backwards. The second pushed the sword aside with one foot. The third drew a weapon. Electricity shot through his body and he shook violently. A second jolt stunned him.

He tried to look up, through the blurred and hazy vision of his one good eye. The men's faces were clear and emotionless, silent and dedicated and fixed on their purpose.

He was trying to think of something to say when darkness took him.

* * *

The city was dead now, abandoned even by the ghosts. Those who remained were hidden and shadowed and disguised.

Lennier had watched the evacuation all day. He had not slept or eaten or…. anything. He had simply walked and watched, imprinting in his memory as much as he could of the last day of Narn.

By his reckoning there were five or six hours to go, but the evacuation was almost complete. Those who could leave had left. A handful of ships remained, but they would leave soon, and then there would be nothing left but the dead waiting to die.

He hoped G'Kar had escaped, but somehow he doubted it. He did not want to see him again, did not want to explain what he had done, or why he had not even tried to leave. He could not explain that he was in some way part of the corruption that had destroyed this world. His departure would only lead to more death.

That would have to be the capstone of his existence. He had died to keep the death toll on Narn to only a few billion instead of a few hundred more.

He stopped, looking around. There was a sound, the only sound he had heard in at least an hour. No one was moving. No one was speaking. There were no vehicles, no machines, nothing. Just silence.

And this person crying for help.

It was a plaintive, lost, little cry, like that of a child who has lost his favourite toy. Motivated more by curiosity than anything else, he began to move in the direction of the cries. He walked past an abandoned holy building, down a dark alley, and into a main street.

A Narn girl lay there, huddled against the wall of a building, holding her leg. She looked about ten years of age, and Lennier knew in one of those perfect moments of clarity that he had seen her before. He had run into her while fleeing from the Thenta Ma'Kur assassin. He had seen her running around the city, playing childish games.

He moved forward to her.

"What is wrong, little one?" he asked in the Narn language.

"I hurt my leg," she said. "I can't find my mother. There were all these people running and I fell over and…. I don't know what's happening."

There had been chaos, people running and scattering. Several people had been trampled beneath the feet of the frightened and angry crowd. Lennier had watched from the shadows, not intervening. It had not been his place to intervene.

"Everyone is leaving, little one. They are leaving this world on giant ships."

"Why?"

Lennier hesitated, not sure what to say. "Because they are going somewhere better," he said lamely.

"You aren't one of us, are you? You're an alien."

"My name is Lennier. I am Minbari."

"I've heard of you. My father says you're evil, like the Centauri. That all aliens are evil."

Lennier sighed. "He might be right."

She thought about this for a moment. "I don't think you're evil. You look strange, but you talk nicely. My name is Na'Lar, but it will soon be time to take a new name, when I become grown up, and choose a religion. I don't know what name to take."

"You will, when the time is right." He reached down a hand to her. "Come on, little one. I will take you to the spaceships."

"I can't walk. I hurt my leg."

"Then I will carry you." She took his arm and he slowly pulled her to her feet. Then he scooped her up and held her tightly. "Are you safe there?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good."

He began to run. He was trained and fit and healthy and he had exercised hard, but he had never run as he ran now. He sped through the abandoned streets of Narn, past dead buildings, always beneath the oppressive darkness in the sky above. She buried herself in his arms and pressed her head into his shoulder.

She had seemed so light at first, but with every step he took she became heavier. He was not sure if he could even keep hold of her, but he continued to run.

Why are we doing this? asked the voice in his mind. What is she to us?

"An innocent," he replied.

What does that have to do with us?

"Everything."

The spaceport grew nearer with every step, but the burning in his lungs and the weight of his burden increased even more quickly. He recited Ranger cants in his mind, meditation techniques, historical texts, anything and everything he could think of.

There were no guards on duty, nothing to stop him entering the launch pad itself. There was one cargo ship remaining, its hold filled with people. He saw a few soldiers, carrying what looked like a coffin towards the ship and carefully loading it on board.

Urgency gave him renewed energy and he sprinted across the pad, ignoring the heat from the engines. One of the soldiers was one the verge of closing the hold when Lennier arrived beside him.

"There's no more room," the Narn said. "Certainly not for…. your kind."

"Not for…. me," Lennier gasped. "But…. her?" He handed over Na'Lar, who looked up at the ship with wide eyes. "A child…. innocent. Take her!"

The soldier looked at him, and plucked Na'Lar out of his arms. She reached back for him. "Wait! You have to come as well!" she called.

"I can't, little one," he whispered. "I have to stay here."

"But you helped me."

"Yes. There is one thing…. you can do for me…. to pay me back for helping you."

"Yes?"

"If you ever meet a man…. called Londo Mollari…. tell him…. I was honoured…. to be his friend."

"Londo Mollari," she repeated. "Yes, I will. I will."

"Good." He pulled back, and the soldier pushed the girl into the hold. The door closed. "Good," Lennier said again, stepping back.

He did not stay to watch the last ship take off. He turned his back and walked away. Exhaustion filled him, but he did not care. There would be plenty of time to rest when he was dead.

* * *

They walked slowly, in a silence that veered between the companionable quiet of friends and the awkwardness of people who had once been friends and were now not certain what they were.

They made small talk, chatting about the improvements that had been made on Minbar. Corwin asked about old friends, although there were fewer than he had realised. Sheridan asked about life on Minbar. Corwin did not mention Susan. Sheridan did not mention Delenn.

Finally they stopped, looking at each other awkwardly.

"You've come to ask me to go back, haven't you?" Corwin asked.

Sheridan looked at him, and gave a half-smile. "Sort of," he said. "In a manner of speaking."

"I don't want to go back. I like it here. I'm doing something good. Not morally grey, or vaguely good intentions, or less bad than other people. I'm doing something good. I like it here."

"You don't belong here."

"That's what Kats said."

"Is she the one who brought you here?"

"Yes. I met her at the Day of the Dead on Brakir. I don't remember a great deal about it, but…. it was bad. I had no idea just how many ghosts there were. She invited me here, to help with the rebuilding."

"David, there's something I need you to…."

"No! I don't like what the Alliance has become, John. It's a dark, cold place where everything seems to be about numbers and pieces and pawns and nothing actually matters apart from winning. Towards the end of the war, I was looking around and I gradually realised there was nothing there I wanted to be fighting for.

"It's got worse since then, hasn't it? I've heard what's been happening. The Drazi, the Centauri. I found out recently that one of those Inquisitors visited Kats. Inquisitors? Think about that for a minute. We have Inquisitors and secret police and…." He came to a halt. "Everything just feels wrong. For God's sake, is this what we were fighting for all those years?"

"No. It isn't. David, I've been asleep for a very long time. I didn't see all those things you've just described. All I could think about was…. getting through the day. And then the next day, and the next. But I've opened my eyes now…. or rather, had them opened for me.

"You're right. This isn't what we were fighting for. I'm not quite sure what all that struggle was for, but it wasn't this.

"But it was worth fighting for once. Surely it is again! I can't do this alone, David. I need your help. I've always needed your help."

David looked at him, at his outstretched hand, and the absolute sincerity and passion in his eyes. For a moment he looked ten years younger, as he had looked when they first met, determined to create a better world and to defend it against anyone or anything who tried to stop him.

He reached out and took his Captain's hand.

"I'm here," he said.

John laughed, and they hugged, as friends and brothers and warriors who have just regained their purpose.

"So," David said when they separated. "Where do we start?"

"There's something I need you to do for me. No one else can do it. It's probably the most important thing I've ever asked anyone to do."

"What?"

"I need you to be my best man.

"I'm going to ask Delenn to marry me."

* * *

G'Kar awakened instantly, passing from dissonance to clarity in a second. He remembered killing Da'Kal, fulfilling a decades-old promise to end her life if ever she asked him to. He remembered the soldiers attacking him, hitting him and kicking him.

And then he realised he was awake and in a cargo hold filled with his own people. It was dark and dirty, and it was moving. He sensed the familiarity of spaceflight.

"Oh, Da'Kal," he whispered, trying to stand. He couldn't, of course. Everyone was strapped in tightly. The cargo hold was hardly designed to carry people, but such was necessity.

"Oh, Da'Kal." He tried to blink through his single eye and shed a tear for her, but he could not. He knew she had arranged this. There was no other way he could have been convinced to leave the planet, unless he was removed by force.

"Is something wrong?" asked a solicitous voice from beside him.

He turned, somewhat awkwardly given the pain in his neck and back. It was a comfortable pain, a pain that reminded him he was still alive, but it was limiting nonetheless. A young girl was sitting there, strapped in as awkwardly and uncomfortably as he was.

"You look hurt," she said.

"I am fine," he replied. "I am not hurt."

"What happened to your eye?"

He reached out to touch the ruin at the side of his head. "Nothing. I can see more clearly now than I could before, when I had both."

"I know you," she said. "You're G'Kar, the Prophet."

"I am. I think you have the advantage of me. Who are you?"

"I…. I was called Na'Lar, but it's almost time for me to choose my new name. I don't know what to pick, but…. Do you know a man named Londo Mollari? I have a message to give to him. A strange man called Lennier asked me to. He helped me."

"Londo?" G'Kar tried to follow the unconscious stream of rambling from the girl. Her innocent chatter was welcome, but trying to follow her…. "Lennier! Have you seen him?" He had entirely forgotten about the Minbari. He had assumed Lennier and Ta'Lon would have left the planet when they overheard his conversation with Da'Kal. "Is Lennier on this ship?"

"No," she said, sadly. "He couldn't come on. He helped me. He carried me here. He was a good man."

G'Kar closed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, he was."

"Do you know this Londo Mollari?"

"Yes, I do. I will take you to him if you like. If I can."

"I'd like that. I've got something to tell him."

"What?"

"I can't tell you. I can only tell him. Who is he?"

"A friend. A friend of mine. And Lennier's. Another good man. There are…. not enough good men in this galaxy."

"Are you a priest?"

"A priest? Yes, I suppose so. I believe, if that means anything."

"My mother said I had to go to a priest when I'd chosen my new name, when I chose which religion I wanted to follow. She wanted me to call myself Na'Hiri and adopt her religion, but none of them…. made any sense to me. I wasn't sure what name I wanted. Can I….

"Can I call myself L'Neer?"

He looked at her. Lennier had bought her life at the cost of his own. He must have seen something within her, something special, and for a moment G'Kar thought he could see it as well.

"Little one," he said, smiling. "You can call yourself whatever you wish."

* * *

Lennier had left the city far behind him, walking out into the countryside. High grey mountains loomed on either side, every stone and plant and breath of air filled with blood. This world had been a battleground for so long that in the end no one had known what else to do with it.

The sad thing was that Lennier had no better idea that the Narns did.

"Hey, Minbari!"

Lennier turned in the direction of the shout. He had thought himself alone. Most of the remaining inhabitants of Narn were cowering in their homes with friends and family, or in the chapels praying for a salvation that would never come. He had certainly not expected to find anyone out here.

It was an old soldier, dressed in a uniform that was ripped and torn and scuffed with age, but still worn with pride. Lennier had seen him before — walking about in the city, but earlier than that too. A long time ago.

"I know you, don't I?" the old Narn said, drinking from a bottle held in one hand. "You're one of my nephew's men. His Rangers."

Lennier touched the sunburst badge which he had taken to wearing openly again. "I…. was," he said, carefully. "My name is Lennier."