Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам.(ЛП)

Suddenly she spun to one side, her body instinctively dodging the PPG blast that came from nowhere. There was a smell of scorching flesh from the side of her arm and she fell, dropping the knife. A quick rush forward, and the end of his denn'bok connected with the underside of her jaw. There was a crack as her neck broke.

A final blow caved in the side of her head, and then he turned to his saviour.

It was a Narn — tall, a warrior, carrying a PPG in one hand and a sword in the other. A ragged leather eye-patch covered half of his face.

"Have you got it?" Ta'Lon asked.

Lennier handed over the data crystal, and then disappeared without a word.

* * *

Senator Dexter Smith did not know his apartment had been broken into until the door had closed behind him and locked.

There was no single sign. There was certainly nothing obvious. His home had not been ransacked. Everything seemed exactly as he had left it, from the jacket thrown casually over the chair the night before to the pack of cards by the side of the breakfast table — even the half-finished coffee (sadly artificial) from this morning.

But there was something else. A sensation. Others might have called it a function of his latent telepathic abilities, but he thought it was something more primaeval than that.

A sense of violation. The unrest that signals something strange and alien invading one's home, one's place of sanctuary. The outside world was not meant to come here.

Whoever this person was, he or she was good. His security system was by no means infallible, but it was among the best available. The Government budget did stretch to protecting its Senators, even in such an unfashionable area as the Pit.

And this person had breezed through it as if it wasn't even there.

He walked forward slowly, surprised by his reaction. He had learned to trust his instincts a long time ago, and they told him not to call Security.

There was a slight creak from the room to his left, and he frowned. His bedroom. Why would anyone be in there?

Inching towards the door, he moved as quietly and stealthily as he could. The door was slightly ajar. He tried to remember if he had closed it before leaving that morning, but the memory would not come. He thought he had.

He slowly reached out his hand and slid it open, keeping as far back as he could.

"About time," said a husky female voice.

Dexter stepped into the doorway.

Talia was lying on his bed, her shoes kicked off on to the floor, a half full bottle of whisky by her side. A half-full bottle of his whisky.

She threw it to him, and he caught it easily.

"Reunion drink?"

* * *

It was a feeling every soldier knew very well. The strange combination of boredom and fear that comes with the knowledge that a battle is near, but not imminent. The battle is an abstract concept, something that will not happen today or maybe even tomorrow, but soon nonetheless. It is hard to imagine the enemy, hard even to remember the reason for the fight, but the prospect of the battle fills every moment. There is nothing necessary left to do, and not enough time for pleasant, unnecessary things.

A strange feeling, and one that a soldier as experienced as Jorah Marrago knew well.

He was in a bad mood, and he knew it. His mercenaries knew it as well, and they were all taking care to stay away from him. Even Dasouri knew better than to trouble him at a time like this. He had been less than pleased with their close combat practice. He had even snapped at Senna following one of her sarcastic asides.

A new attack was in the offing. He could tell. Even his fellow 'captains' in the Brotherhood Without Banners could tell. The fruits of the raid on Gorash were long since consumed, and the Brotherhood had grown since then with Marrago's own addition, to say nothing of certain lesser mercenary companies. There had to be new, fresh ground somewhere.

But where? They had been arguing non-stop for over a week. Worlds and stations and bases had all been suggested and discarded and suggested again. Marrago wondered just how they had managed to attack Gorash at all. They would have trouble just agreeing on a seating order, let alone a battle plan.

Which of course made them a perfect target for him to take over eventually. He was the most experienced general among them — more experienced than most of them put together. He was also the newest, and the most distrusted, but still.... With time and luck and skill he would become their leader soon enough. A couple of good performances in a raid or two, and he would have them in the palm of his hand.

That had been his original plan, when he had followed up n'Grath's invitation and joined the Brotherhood. A couple of things had derailed it since then, but the basic plan held.

Well, three things in fact.