And then he turned to Kats. "Well?" she said. "You have your second chance at life. What are you to do with it?"
"What can I do?" he said harshly. "I.... swore to serve Sonovar. I have betrayed one lord already.... for what I knew.... what I thought.... was right. I cannot betray another."
"You do not see it, do you? There is only one person you can ever betray, and it is not Sinoval, it is not Sonovar. It is not me.
"It is yourself. What does your heart tell you to do?"
He turned to look at her, and bowed his head, weeping unashamedly. "I love you, my lady," he whispered through his tears.
She knelt beside him, placed her arms around him, and kissed him once, gently. Then she laid her head on his chest.
"And I love you, Kozorr."
"Listen to me! Dammit, listen!
"I don't know if there's anyone there. I don't know if you've got a personality, a mind.... anything. Oh, God, I must be mad. I'm talking to my chair.
"But if there is anyone here, anything at all.... will you at least listen to me? Whatever's stopping you targeting the defence grid.... we have to do it. There are people on Proxima. A lot of people. They are going to die.
"Can you hear me?"
There was nothing, and Corwin bowed his head, sinking to his knees. He did not know if there was anyone in the Agamemnon, but the screams, the whispers, the cries.... they had to come from something.
A long shot at best. What did he know about Vorlon technology? For all he knew he had imagined everything. Maybe he was mad. He had been shouting at his chair, after all. The crew weren't looking at him. He knew what they were thinking.
He sat back down. "Is the defence grid still readying itself?"
"Yes, sir. We estimate four minutes only before it fires."
"And it's still targeting the planet?"
"Yes."
"And we still can't fire on it?"
"No."
"Nor can the other ships?"
"No."
"And there are no support ships near enough?"
"No."
Corwin sat back down on the chair he had been shouting at. There was no one he could talk to, nothing he could do now. He had nothing left to give save one thing only.
He knew what to do.
"Target the nearest satellite. Ram it." Maybe there would be enough of the ship left afterwards to attack another satellite, although he wasn't sure. He had no idea how durable the Vorlon ship could be.
"Yes, sir."
David.
The voice came from nowhere, from inside his mind, and he started. "Lyta?" he whispered. "Guerra, belay that."
There is someone here, David. I can help you talk to her.
"Where is she?"
And then there was only darkness.
The Saint–Germain was moving slowly, too slowly for DeClercq's comfort. He could hear once again the message of doom for humanity. He had met President Clark only twice, but he was not surprised by what Clark had now done. There had been something glinting at the back of the President's eyes.
"What are we going to do when we get there?" asked Ensign Morgan. "We still haven't got the weapons on–line."
"We will do.... what we have to," DeClercq replied. "What we have to."
They were nowhere. A void, a black and lonely place. At first Corwin was alone, but then there was a shimmering light and Lyta stood beside him, light flashing around her, embracing, protecting her.
"Where are we?" he asked. "How did you...?"
"Your body is still where it was. Our minds.... we are inside the Agamemnon, inside its dark heart. She is here."
"Who? Lyta, we don't have much time. Who are you talking about?"
"You can't see her yet. Are you sure you wish to do this? It will.... not be easy."
"Yes, I'm sure."
Gently, Lyta took his hand. She was surprisingly warm to the touch.
A great light appeared before them, wings of fire flickering and dancing. At the centre of the ever–changing pattern was a woman, her mouth open in a silent scream, the flames crackling around her body. She was trapped in an orb, no, a column, a lantern.... an infinity of shapes, each one trapping and binding her.
And elsewhere, all around them, above, below, in front, behind, there were tiny pin–pricks of light. Corwin could dimly see others, some near, some impossibly far.
"Who is she?" he asked, Proxima momentarily forgotten beside the majesty and terror of the scene before him.
"She is the power source of your ship. There is one like her in every ship in the Dark Star fleet, and others spread throughout the galaxy. There is one on Proxima. I can.... feel him. All telepaths, every one of them. This is.... the network, as we see it.
"Her name is Carolyn. Carolyn Sanderson."
"Can she hear me?"
"Yes."
"Carolyn," he said, softly at first, but he repeated the name more loudly. She turned, and in her eyes he saw a reflection of the scene around him, an infinite pool with a million sparkling lights. And a million reflected screams. "Can you hear me, Carolyn?"
"Keep saying her name," Lyta whispered, the words hoarse and pained. "She must remember who she was."
--Help.... me--
"What do you want me to do, Carolyn?"
--Free.... us--
"We will try," said Lyta. "We.... will.... try. But, first.... we need your help."
"The Proxima defence grid is being trained on the planet. There are millions of people there. They are going to die. We have to destroy the defence grid, but we can't...."
--Cannot.... Light will not.... let.... us--
"Light?" Corwin whispered. Then came understanding. "The Vorlons. They want this to happen."
"A tragedy," Lyta said. "A disaster they plan to spin and weave, creating a world of dead souls to cry out in revenge and set all worlds against the Enemy. Hurry, David.... I can't.... maintain this.... much longer. They will.... find.... me."
"Carolyn. Please. Help me here, and I promise. I will free you. All of you. I give you my word."
--Free.... us? - -
"Yes."
--We can.... give you.... time.... little... - -
Corwin's heart leapt. "It'll be enough. Thank you, Carolyn."
--Light.... strong--
"I will help you," said Lyta. "David, come and see me afterwards. You must. Don't let anyone stop you."
"I promise."
Lyta stepped forward and reached out her hand. Carolyn turned to face her and stretched out one arm. Lyta's hand passed through the flames of light and an expression of great pain crossed her features. Then she touched Carolyn, and the pain ceased.
The flames died down. Lyta turned back to Corwin. "Remember.... come and see me...."
"I will," he replied. Lyta's hand slipped from his, and the void faded.
Corwin sat bolt upright in his chair. "Captain. We can...."
"I know," he said. "Take the grid out. As fast as we can."
Was there enough time? Proxima held its breath.
Somewhere on Proxima, in a hidden, underground world, a trapped telepath's screams grew less for a moment, and his head bowed.
"Dare I ask?" said Morden.
"It seems the network is being disrupted," said the old man pensively. "Temporarily, only, I am sure, but.... I do not like this."
On a passenger freighter somewhere away from Proxima, Mrs. Tamara Winter woke from a troubled sleep, holding the blanket tight around her. For long minutes she trembled, hearing once again the voices speaking to her, begging her for help. This time, however, there seemed to be a hint of hope in them.
Her sleep was troubled.