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Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам - Гэрет Уильямс
- Дата:22.10.2024
- Категория: Фантастика и фэнтези / Альтернативная история
- Название: Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам
- Автор: Гэрет Уильямс
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Описание онлайн-книги Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам - Гэрет Уильямс:
Война Теней закончена. Тени покинули галактику, отправившись за Предел. Юные расы трудятся вместе в мире и гармонии как части благородного Объединенного Альянса, под руководством Благословенной Деленн и под защитой грозного флота Темных Звезд, ведомого «Тенеубийцей», Генералом Джоном Шериданом. Нарны и центавриане примирились, минбарцы реформируют их Серый Совет, За'ха'дум же — мир, который денно и нощно охраняется флотом ворлонцев.
Альтернативная история
Аудиокнига "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5: Средь звезд, подобно гигантам"
🌌 В пятом томе серии "Темное, кривое зеркало" от Гэрета Уильямса мы погружаемся в захватывающий мир фантастики и приключений. Главный герой, чье имя пока остается в тайне, отправляется в удивительное путешествие среди звезд, где его ждут невероятные испытания и загадочные открытия.
В этой книге автор раскрывает новые грани своего воображения, создавая уникальную атмосферу и завораживающий сюжет. Странные существа, загадочные технологии и неожиданные повороты событий ждут слушателя на каждой странице этой аудиокниги.
👽 Гэрет Уильямс - талантливый писатель, чьи произведения завоевали миллионы читателей по всему миру. Его книги отличаются оригинальным стилем, глубокими мыслями и захватывающим сюжетом. Уильямс умело сочетает научную фантастику с элементами фэнтези, создавая удивительные миры и персонажей.
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Альтернативная история
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As he walked back to his quarters in the shabby, dirty ship that was now his entire fleet, Jorah Marrago was surprised to find his mind filled with tactics and planning. It was a good feeling, one he had missed.
For the last year, ever since he had joined forces with Sinoval, his mind had been on strategy, long-term goals and aims, thinking years in advance. That was depressing, a constant reminder of the future, speculation about a time he might not live to see.
But tactics, that was different. Creating a battle in his mind, the positioning, the opening movements, the hidden feints. In a strange, bizarre way it was almost beautiful — a game, a creation of skill, pitting general against general, battle-master against battle-master.
Only later would the true cost become clear. Only after the battle could one look around at the bodies of the dead, the mutilations of the injured and the anguished faces of the bereaved. Marrago remembered that. He always tried to remember the true cost of battle, but try as he might, he could not banish that sense of…. joy he felt at a grand plan coming together.
And this was a challenge. His army was a mish-mash of different peoples and races and personalities who would all rather be fighting each other. The true military might of this attack was a race of whose capacities and strength he had not the slightest conception. He was attacking the homeworld of one of the most technologically advanced races in civilised space, however socially self-destructive they might be.
Besides, by the Purple Throne, it felt good to be doing something at last.
Dasouri was waiting outside his door. He nodded his head.
"Is it true, General?" he asked.
Marrago did not have to ask what he was referring to. "Yes," he replied. "We're going to war."
Dasouri nodded, no trace of surprise or joy or fear or indeed any other emotion on his perfectly equable face. "Where?"
"Centauri Prime." Marrago was pleased with himself for the entirely flat way he said those two words.
Dasouri nodded again, still showing no emotion. "I will tell the others. They will be prepared."
Marrago watched the Drazi depart, wondering, not for the first time, what brought him here. Each and every one of those who followed him — or any captain in the Brotherhood — had their story. They each had their reasons. They were the people who had slipped through the net the Alliance had cast over the galaxy. They were the people who were not seen, not noticed, not missed.
They were the people for whom there was no place in the galaxy but the one they made themselves.
Thinking darkly about that, but still bolstered by his plans and schemes, Marrago opened the door to his chambers. He nodded absently to Senna, sitting calmly on her chair, and drifted over to his books. He had been able to bring a few with him into exile, and he had obtained a few more since. One of the many advantages of having a Thrakallan crimelord indebted to him.
"How could you?" Senna whispered.
He looked up at her, and saw for the first time the expression on her face, a combination of horror and disgust.
"How could I what?"
"You swore to defend the Purple Throne. You swore to defend Centauri Prime. You swore…."
"Shut up!" he shouted, his good mood evaporating instantly. "You were listening at the door!"
"How else am I to find out what is happening? You keep me locked up in here, you never allow me to leave. I am just as much your prisoner as I was…. his! And now you are going to lead an attack on our homeworld!"
"You do not understand," he said angrily.
"No," she rasped. "I don't. Why save me, and lead those…. monsters to do to others what was done to me? Why would you attack your own people, your own Emperor?"
"My Emperor cast me out!" he cried, stepping forward. She cowered back on her chair. "I spent my entire life in service to that Throne, and where did it get me? My daughter is dead, and I am now an exile. I am a lord of the Centauri Republic and I am forced to live with bandits and brigands and peasants!
"I have no people, and I have no home and I have no Emperor!"
Shaking, she rose slowly to her feet. She stared at him, fear evident in every part of her body but her eyes. They were filled with contempt and disgust, and he saw his own self-hatred staring back at him.
When she spoke, it was slowly and deliberately, with a determination that belied her years. "You are every bit as much a monster as they are," she said calmly.
He did not know why he did what he did, only that his body acted before his mind could prevent it. He struck out with all the force he could muster, a blow honed in a youth of bar fights and an adulthood of battlefields. He struck her squarely on her chin and felt the satisfying force on his fist as she crumpled beneath him. She fell back on to the chair and it gave way, shattering under the impact. She fell to the floor and looked up at him, shaking, tears glistening in her soft eyes.
Lyndisty would have struck back at him if he had done that to her.
But he had never hit Lyndisty.
Senna looked at him, as if expecting him to do more. Her hand slid over her breast, covering her hearts as she tried to breathe. Finally, unable to look at him any longer, she pulled herself up and half-ran, half-crawled away from the room, scurrying to her private quarters, slamming the door behind her.
Marrago realised he was shaking. He was turning to the cabinet to pour himself a glass of jhala when he realised Sinoval was standing directly in front of him.
He stepped back, his hearts pounding. "Please," he said, breathing hard. "A little warning next time."
"We have no time for warnings," Sinoval replied, his eyes dark. "We have no time for waiting or planning or preparing, not any longer. I am having to activate all my players at once, and hope that one or two of them are triumphant."
Marrago stepped back again, and moved quickly to the cabinet. His hands were shaking as he poured the jhala. "Don't judge me," he said, harshly. "Don't you dare judge me."
"I would not presume to," Sinoval replied. "I have done worse myself, and if that is the worst sin committed by any of those who follow me then I will find myself at the head of an army of saints. You will have to judge yourself, though…. in time."
"I know," Marrago whispered. "Gods, I never thought I would…. I never hit Lyndisty, not once. Nor Drusilla. I've never hit a woman, much less a girl, and now….
"Sometimes I think I want to stop this road you have dragged me on to. I do not like what it is making me become."
"I did not drag you anywhere, and the road is not changing you. You are changing yourself. In any event, that is not why I am here. The plan is going to have to change."
"Everything's going as it should. These…. Tuchanq are a new addition. Someone's pulling their strings, and I think I know who, but nothing else has changed. I'm still the best and most experienced general here. If anything, this is only accelerating matters. I'll lead this raid of theirs, and we'll win. It won't be easy, but I've exaggerated a few things for their benefit. We'll win, and burn half of Centauri Prime to the ground, and everyone here will know it was thanks to me. I'll be leader of them all by the end of the year…. at least, leader of those I don't have to kill.
"And then you'll have the nucleus of your army."
"Is this the army you think you can take to war for me? Are these the soldiers you want to lead?"
"No, but they're what we have, and that will have to be enough. They have no place in this world any more. Peace? What good is that? They're all creatures of war and chaos and they haven't known enough of the blessings of peace to appreciate it. They're natural warriors, and they'll be the best soldiers we can get. Trust me on this."
"I do, but as I said…. we will have to move more quickly. The…. Enemy is pursuing me, and they are closer than I would like to think. Some of my little spiders are going to fall. Everything will come out into the open sooner than either side will like, and we will have to be ready when it does.
"We are going to have to accelerate matters regarding this army of yours."
Marrago took a long sip. "What did you have in mind?"
"When you arrive at Centauri Prime, I will be there waiting."
Sinoval's dark eyes blazed.
"And so will the Alliance."
* * *There was no fear. Vejar honestly could not remember what fear felt like any more. He tried to think back to the Drakh, and their brutal, callous invasion of Kazomi 7, but he could remember nothing. Everything was cold and calm, as if those who had died or been mutilated and scarred had been nothing but illusions.
His power had always come from the imagination, and now he could imagine nothing.
We need to find someone, cousin, and we think you know where she might be.
He could not do this in ghost form, not as a spirit. This would have to be real. Nevertheless, he could walk through the wide corridors cloaked in mirrors. Anyone who looked at him would see a lowly cleaner, and surveillance would not see him at all.
It had been a very long time since he had left his underground sanctum and he was surprised by what the years had done to the Neuadd. He had seen it in his astral wanderings many times, but that was different from seeing it for real. He could not pretend this was an illusion or a dream. This was reality.
The building was practically empty. He had seen only three people in the four floors he had traversed thus far. Security checkpoints were unmanned. He doubted there were enough security officers left in the building to man them all. Or even left on the planet, come to that.
Who is this person?
He remembered the day he had named this building. Neuadd. An ancient word, from an ancient and beautiful Earth language. It meant so many things, but so few people understood them.
I think you know her name, cousin.
He moved up another flight of stairs, his muscles burning with the unaccustomed exercise. He could not risk the elevators. Any one of a number of things might go wrong.
So how do I find her?
He could feel the tingle on his skin that spoke of the magic Galen was performing elsewhere in the city. Illusionary Drakh or Shadows, or even dragons if he had been listening to Alwyn too much lately. Anything that would draw attention away from this building. Not the guards, for they were next to nothing and there were hardly any here anyway.
She will be in the network somewhere. You can access it from the Vorlon's quarters, if you need to. We need to find her.
He moved up even further. Another couple of floors and he was near the top of the building. The Vorlon, Ambassador Ulkesh, had take over the top three floors when he had arrived here. He had remained, despite all the other Ambassadors relocating to Babylon 5. They had all kept offices here, a skeleton staff for the sake of appearance and tradition and respect for the memory of Kazomi 7, but for the most part it was an empty gesture. Ulkesh was the only one actually to remain here.
So why me? Why not do this yourself?
Vejar reached the doors to the Vorlon's chambers. They were unguarded, of course. Usually anyone penetrating so far up the Neuadd would have passed several stringent security checks. It didn't matter, anyway. No one would be stupid enough to try to break into a Vorlon's private rooms.
He breathed out slowly and reached for the door. Light formed around his hand.
You have been here for years, cousin. Do not try to tell me you have not identified the Vorlon's wards. Do not try to tell me you have not learned how to bypass his security. Do not try to tell me you cannot pierce his veil and enter his chambers. I would be caught. You may escape.
The door remained closed, but Vejar, who could see things that others could not, breathed a slow sigh of relief and passed through it as if it were no more than a reflection.
Once inside he knew he had to act quickly. The Vorlon's attention would be distracted by Galen's light show, but time would be limited. Fortunately there was no need for a scrying spell or a search incantation. He could feel her pain, feel the light and the screams and the rush of power and energy and knowledge that encompassed the network. He could feel it slightly even on the other side of the wards, but here….
The difference was as between looking at a picture of a waterfall and standing beneath it.
He headed quickly in the direction of the network, dropping his disguise. There was no point maintaining it here. If the Vorlon caught him, it really would not matter.
He entered the room and stopped. There it was, Kazomi 7's node of the network. A greater node, funnelling the power and authority of the Vorlons from here to all the Dark Star ships in orbit or in the area, and to any one of hundreds of other places. Just one of countless millions of links including Babylon 5, Centauri Prime, Proxima 3 and worlds unnoticed and unnamed by humanity.
You truly expect me to succeed in this? You truly expect me to find her?
He looked up at the still, silent form of Lyta Alexander. Bonded to the wall by the growth of greenery around her body, crucified on a giant, monstrous cross. Veins and tendrils and nerve sheaths ran from her mouth, her eyes, her heart, all over her body. Her eyes were open, and he could see within them the awareness that lurked there. She was conscious, aware of what was being done to her.
I have faith in you, cousin.
Vejar tried to force himself to care. He did not know her. She meant nothing to him. She was just one of billions who had suffered at the hands of the Vorlons. What made her special? What made her so deserving as to merit his being sent on this mission?
And if the Vorlon catches me?
He raised his hand, now glowing with red light, tiny bolts of electricity shooting from it.
Why are you always so negative, cousin? Think of the good that will come from this when you succeed.
He took a step forward.
Ulkesh glided into view.
I am, Galen. I am thinking that the Vorlon might find me….
Ulkesh's eye blazed bright red.
…. and that he might just kill me.
* * *There is nothing the Dark Masters send us that is not a challenge. Through adversity there is strength. Through defeat there is experience. Through experience there is understanding. Through understanding there is strength.
I fulfill their will. I bring blessed chaos to the galaxy. I rain death upon the weak and the complacent. I bring fear and pain to those who do not understand. The weak will be defeated and die in misery. The strong will learn and grow and become stronger.
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