Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)

Nelson chuckled. "That's our Bo, all right. A decent enough sort, but he ain't exactly the fastest barman this side of the Proxima Hilton. Now, stranger, your name, if you don't mind?"

"Dexter. And you are?"

Another laugh. "Very funny. You mean you don't know me?" Smith shook his head. "I'm Nelson Drake. I work for Mr. Trace. You'll have heard of him, of course."

"I can't say I have."

Nelson reached out and grabbed the lapel of Smith's shirt, pulling him up from the chair. "Listen to me, you worthless lump of garbage," he hissed. "Trace owns this sector, and if you want to live a long and happy life here, you'll remember that. Cross me or Mr. Trace, and your life will be anything but long and happy." He pushed Smith back into his chair and smoothed his shirt.

"That's free advice I'm giving you. Think of it as an introductory offer." Bo slowly raised his head from behind the bar, and handed over a small glass containing a drink that seemed to be glowing. Nelson took it from him, never lifting his eyes from Smith, and drained it in one go. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he handed the empty glass back to Bo.

"You know," Nelson said, "I'm sure I've seen you before. Any idea why that could be, smart man?"

"Couldn't say."

"No, I guess you couldn't. Well, I'd better be off. Places to go, people to see, you know how it is." He shifted his gaze to the barman. "See you tonight, Bo. Me and Mr. Trace and the others are looking forward to your hospitality, same as always."

He turned and left the pub.

Smith waited until he was gone, and then looked back at Bo. There were times when he just got strange hunches, mysterious ideas he couldn't explain properly. He had one of them now. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Oh…. that's Nelson Drake. He's a…. bodyguard of some sort for Mr. Trace."

"And this Trace is…?"

"A good man. Oh yes, a really fine man. He really cares for us here in three-o-one. He looks after us, makes sure no one's causing any trouble…. you…. you know how it is."

"Protection rackets." Smith sighed. "Why don't Security do anything?"

"Security? Hah…. They don't care about us here. Mr. Trace…. he…. he cares. He looks out for us."

"Based on what I've just seen, I don't think I'd want to be looked after by people like him. I think it's time to take a trip to see someone. Which way is it to the local Security Headquarters?"

* * *

The Shadow ship stopped dead in space, paralysed and helpless, held there as if by a giant hand from heaven.

"Now!" roared Corwin. "Hit it!"

Forward cannons blazed into life and rammed into the body of the vessel. It trembled slightly.

The other two ships bore down on the Babylon, seeking to free their companion. A Drazi Sunhawk darted forward, striking at the nearest of the ships. The Sunhawk's blows slid off the black, living surface, but the ship turned, momentarily distracted.

Brakiri ships moved forward, the telepaths on board straining to hold back the Shadows. The remaining ship bearing down on the Babylonstopped, struggling to move forward. The other ship turned and fired, and the Brakiri ship died in a silent explosion.

The forward cannons on the Babylonstopped their assault on the trapped vessel. It collapsed and disintegrated before their eyes, dead.

The Babylonturned and moved to protect its allies.

* * *

Valen had walked into darkness many times. Kozorr knew most of the tales about Valen, but the one he kept thinking of was the descent into the pit at Z'ha'dum, to rescue Derannimer and confront the traitor, Parlonn.

Had he known fear as he walked alone into the darkness? He must have done. Above him there was fire and bloodshed, as the Vorlons and the Minbari fleet led by Marrain attacked the Shadows' homeworld. It had been one of the last battles of the Shadow War.

Kozorr didn't like to think about how it had ended. Derannimer had been saved, Parlonn defeated, but the cost…. had been so high.

He had not spent much time in Cathedral. The place…. unnerved him in some way. He had been content to lead from the Valentha, or from the other capital ships. Cathedral had always seemed a dark place, more like a stronghold of the Enemy than a focus of leadership for the Minbari. Sinoval was happy there, but then he had been bewitched by the Shagh Toth.

Kozorr had not actually seen many of them in his journey down into the bowels of Cathedral. Those he had seen had been further up, in the towers and turrets and vast, measureless halls. He supposed the engines must be down here somewhere, but something else would be here as well.

The corridor was getting smaller and narrower. He was having to duck to get through it, but he was certain this was the way. There were lights embedded in the walls, so he could see. Small globes. He thought he could hear soft whispers of conversation from them.