"Here it is," he said, looking directly at the emissary of the Dark Masters. He did not care about the others who would hear. They were all his. They had all drunk deeply of the enlightenment that had swept Centauri Prime the last time these flowers had seeded. Tiny spores had settled in their minds, and their eyes had been opened.
"As you promised, but I have one question. Why did you not give it to me yourself? Why involve the noblewoman in this? She is not one of us." Kiro no longer thought of himself as a nobleman. Nobility, merchants, peasants, it did not matter any more. There were simply those enlightened, and those not, and former titles meant nothing.
"She is.... special."
"Ah," said Kiro. "Yes. She will be mine, yes? She will be the womb from which comes...."
"The future."
"Yes. Yes, the future. The fire."
"Yes."
He looked at the flower once again. The thing inside it looked so small. It would grow, but for that, it needed something else. "Mariel!" he called, and was rewarded by the slow shuffling that announced her presence.
She had been many things. She had been the wife of the man who was now Emperor, the lover of the man who had been First Minister. She had been one of those who had broken into Kiro's estate, and tortured and mutilated him.
None of that mattered now. Now she was his, a Shadow Crier, a servant of the Dark Masters. Everything that had been hers was now his, for the greater glory of the Dark Masters.
She held out her left arm, her right hanging limply at her side. Kiro could still smell the cooking of her flesh as she had bathed in the purifying flames. He could still hear her screams.
Once she had been beautiful, but what was beauty compared to devotion to the Dark Masters? The trial had been necessary to prove her loyalty to them. The flame had purified her, burned away all that had been her past.
Kiro took her hand roughly, pulling her forward. Her one remaining eye showed reluctance and fear. Could she not see this was serving the Dark Masters? Perhaps the flame had not purged enough of her former self. She would have to be chastised further.
He drew his knife and held it up for the emissary to examine. There was a brief pause, and then a nod. The blade was satisfactory. It was his own, consecrated in the name of his new crusade.
Mariel's blood began to drip on to the flower, running towards the bulb in the centre. The thing there began to stir. Mariel did not scream as the knife cut deeper and deeper into her arm.
Kiro looked up at the emissary, and the Drakh nodded again, obviously pleased.
All wounds heal. With time. Some wounds take longer than others.
It soon became clear that Proxima's wounds would take longer to heal than anyone had foreseen. The news of Clark's betrayal and the Shadows' flight was badly received by the people, who decried the lies and propaganda of the invading aliens and the traitors. There were riots, which were savagely put down by the ground troops of the Alliance. General Ryan tried to plead for calm, but he was largely ignored. He was a coward after all, the one who had issued the order to surrender.
Captains Tikopai and Barns managed to repair enough of the damage to their ships to escape in the confusion following the battle. Sheridan ordered Dark Stars to hunt them down, but it was a low priority. They were only two ships. They were little threat.
Prominent politicians, scientists and diplomats accused of involvement with the Shadows were arrested and questioned. Many were released without charge. A few had known about and helped to arrange Clark's 'scorched Earth' plan, and were to be put on trial. The subtle hand of William Edgars behind this was not detected.
Welles was found and placed in a secure military hospital. He survived the first few weeks, and looked to be recovering some of his strength. He was not yet fit to be questioned, however.
A provisional Government was formed from a handful of politicians. The Earth Senate was restored, and democratic elections were promised. Few people believed they would happen. The Alliance remained, as always, above Proxima, above humanity, aliens come not to destroy, but to enslave.
Sector 301 was peaceful. A shrine appeared in a quiet corner, a place people went to pray, to seek guidance from the one who had died and lived again, the one who had spoken of peace and died for her words.
News of the miracle soon travelled, and not just within the Pit.
Corwin had wanted to wait until he was sure, and now he was. There was only one more thing that needed to be done, and while he could do that alone, it was hardly right that he did. Someone else should be there.
"The General will see you now."
The General. So Sheridan was the General now. The Alliance Council had officially ratified his position as leader of the Dark Star fleet for the duration of the Shadow War, and as long after that as the fleet might be necessary. Corwin had not liked the sound of that.
He still dreamed about Carolyn, trapped in her globe of light. When he was on the ship he tried to speak to her as much as possible, with no idea whether she could hear him. He had not spoken to Lyta since their last meeting.
The Capt.... the General was sitting at a desk in an office that had clearly once been Ryan's. Ryan had been arrested, but then exonerated of any wrongdoing. He had resigned afterwards, and disappeared.
"Hmm? Oh, Captain," said the General. He looked terrible, as if he had not slept in months. He probably hadn't. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in. I've just been.... reading the reports from some of Clark's former Ministers. I guess time ran away from me."
"Aren't there people to do those sort of things?"
"Well.... yes. But you know me. I like to keep my hand in. So, what is your business, Captain? I was told it was urgent."
"Yes, it is. Captain.... General...." A pause. "John.... I've found Delenn."
Something flared in the back of Sheridan's eyes and he looked down quickly at the notes. "Captain Corwin, I'm very busy. I don't have time for wild goose chases or shaggy dog stories. Delenn is...."
"Alive."
"Dead! Delenn is dead! Accept that, and stop chasing her down!"
"John, I am telling you...."
"You are dismissed, Captain."
"I spoke to Welles. I've spoken to a few others. I've...."
"Mr. Welles is in secure confinement."
"I managed to see him. He was very.... talkative. Listen, John.... I know how to find her. Welles had her broken out of prison here. His agents took her to Sector Three–o–one. He thinks he knows where. Now we can go in.... we can find her and get her out."
"Delenn is dead! Now get out of here!"
Corwin sighed, and walked up to the desk. "I'm sorry. I don't know you any more. I know you've been through a lot. I don't know how I'd cope in such circumstances, but this isn't just about you any more. Delenn needs you. I know she does. Who do you think should be there when she's found? Me - or you?"
"You are dismissed, Captain!" Sheridan leapt to his feet, eyes flashing. "Now get out of here, or I'll have you court–martialled!"
Corwin shook his head. "I didn't want to do this. I'm sorry."
The punch took Sheridan completely by surprise, throwing him backwards across the desk. Corwin immediately followed up with another, which knocked the older man down. Grabbing the General's shirt, he pulled him up and slammed him hard against the wall.
"If this is the only way I can get you to see sense, then this is what I'll do," he snapped, his face inches from Sheridan's own. "So, go ahead. Court–martial me! Do whatever you damned well like, but for God's sake.... go and get Delenn!"
"You don't.... You don't...." Corwin let go of his friend. He had never heard so much despair in Sheridan's voice. The General sank to the floor, tears and blood streaming down his face. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice hoarse and racked.