"He is my lord. I have to obey him."
"When you do, tell him this from me. If he is willing to talk, then I am ready to listen. Minbari should not be fighting Minbari."
"And that is why you came here?"
"No, at least not wholly. I hoped Sonovar would be here, and we could.... settle things. As it is, the resolution will have to wait. But remember to tell him. I am willing to listen."
"I will do so."
"Then all is not lost. Go, daughter of Takier, take your companions and leave." So saying, he picked up Stormbringer and departed from the place of his death.
"What the hell is happening?"
Captain David Corwin had seen some strange and inexplicable things in his life, and a sense of paranoia had built up as a result. He could not believe this was really happening. There was a trick here. This was some sort of deception, some subtle plan, something.
That conviction was part paranoia, but more than that it sprang from the core of idealism he still cherished in his heart even after all he had seen. Who could possibly turn the defence grid on humanity? These mysterious allies of Captain Sheridan's.... they wouldn't do this, surely.
"There's no doubt about it, sir. The defence grid is turning on Proxima and preparing to fire."
"No, that.... that doesn't make any sense. That...."
"Captain, we're picking up a message. It's going out to all frequencies."
"Put it on."
This is an emergency message....
.... to any ships in Proxima space. I don't care if you are human or alien or whatever. The defence grid has been turned inwards, towards Proxima. President Clark is dead, but before he died he turned the grid inwards. This was all.... all a.... plot.
Whoever's out there. Do something. For God's sake, do something!
Welles coughed. He did not know how long things would take. He had wasted time trying to convince the staff here of the situation. Too much time.
He hunched up nearer the commpanel, biting back the pain. He had no time to hurt.
This is an emergency message to.... to....
He coughed again. There was more blood.
This is an emergency message to....
He had no time to pass out.
Welles had had more success than he might have envisaged. Not only had Corwin heard his desperate warning, listening with greater and greater incredulity with every word, but others had received it as well. On the Saint–Germain, Captain DeClercq listened with horror and tried to wring even more speed from a near–crippled ship. General Ryan caught a few words only, and raged in his helplessness. Captains Tikopai and Barnes could not hear it, which was probably just as well.
The Agamemnon was the first of the Dark Star ships to arrive within reach of Proxima 3 itself, but only just. Captains Daro and Kulomani were right behind.
"Captain Corwin," said Kulomani. "We have received this message. It could be a trick."
"No, I don't.... think so. He sounded genuine, but.... Where's Captain Sheridan?"
"Chasing down the few remaining Enemy ships." Kulomani was scornful. "He is not here, and we cannot contact him. What are your orders, Captain?"
In other circumstances Corwin might have wondered just why everyone was coming to him, but he did not have time to wonder.
"Destroy the defence grid. Take it apart. Completely."
"As you say."
Corwin turned to his bridge crew. "Well, you have your orders," he snapped. "Target and destroy the defence grid."
One of the techs looked up. "Uh, Captain.... we have a problem."
In all his life Lord–General Marrago had known true love for only two things: the Republic, and his daughter, by adoption if not by blood. Lyndisty was the only living being he loved, and the only living being he had been able to bring himself to love. A poet had written once that the only true love was that between parent and child, and Marrago had understood that since the first moment he had held Lyndisty in his arms.
He found himself thinking about her true father, dead these past two and a half decades. A good friend, a fine soldier, whose untimely death had left behind a wife and young child. Marrago had promised to take care of them, and had promptly married Drusella and adopted Lyndisty. He had never truly come to care for Drusella, perhaps because his heart had been lost at his first sight of his daughter.
And now he had possibly doomed them both.
He looked around him, noticing the minor blooms of colour in the dark ravages of his garden. The consequences of too many years without being cared for could not be erased by a few hours work here and there. He had had many dreams of a rich, bright, shining garden, of sitting at peace and growing old and watching his grandchildren grow.
But he knew he could never do that. His first love, the Republic, was a demanding mistress, consuming all his time and energy. And now it would perhaps consume his daughter.
He smelled the soft vapour of her perfume and heard the gentle sound of her footfall. He smiled. She was trying to sneak up on him. She was improving, too. Evidently she had taken his lessons to heart.
"I know you are there," he said softly, smiling.
"I've been watching you for ten minutes," she said, walking round into view and kneeling down on the dull grass in front of him. She was smiling, and he couldn't help smiling as well. Something about it was contagious.
"Ah." He truly hadn't noticed her standing there for that long. He told her so.
"You are joking, surely? You must have known I was there all the time. You are the best."
"I wish that were so. I'm getting old." He looked at her, drinking in her radiant beauty. He would do anything for her, anything at all. Then he noticed something, and sat forward. There was a lump and a bruise on the side of her head. "What happened?"
"Oh? This?" She reached a hand to the bruise. "It is nothing, Father. It...."
"Lyndisty! What happened?"
"I was struck by a rock. I was attacked by some ruffians while delivering your package."
A slow fear gripped him. So, the first part of his bargain with the Shadows had been paid. How dare they endanger his daughter like this! It was he who had made the bargain with them, not Lyndisty. They had no business involving her.
"Are.... are you all right?"
"Yes, father. I killed two, and the person the package was meant for came and helped me with the others. I gave it to him, and left. Your.... friend was waiting for me when I got back. He was.... strange. I didn't like him."
"He's not my friend, Lyndisty. He's just an.... associate. Our business is now done." He knew that for a lie the instant he said it, and regretted the necessity. He had never lied to Lyndisty before. But she had to believe this. She must have nothing more to do with the Drakh and their Dark Masters. "Have nothing more to do with him."
"Are you all right, father? You sound.... worried."
"I am fine. I.... was just upset to hear you were hurt. How is your mother?" As a feeble attempt to change the subject it would not have fooled the greenest courtier, but then Marrago had never been a courtier, and nor was Lyndisty.
"She is well. She sent me a list of eligible men a few days ago. I am far too old to remain unmarried."
Marrago laughed. "How many names were on this list?"
"Sixty–three, although I have managed to whittle away some thirty or so. As for the others.... some further study may be necessary."
She smiled, and Marrago laughed again. Drusella was a true creature of the Court and she had made repeated efforts to drag Lyndisty into that life, ignoring the fact that she preferred to follow the lifestyle of her father. No true daughter of the Court would rather spend her time on spaceships surrounded by soldiers, or training with kutari and maurestii.