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

After several hours of staring upwards, he rose from the couch and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He devoured it greedily, spilling a great deal on the floor in the process. It alleviated his thirst, but not his headache. As he walked back to his impromptu bed, he could not resist looking in at her through the slightly ajar bedroom door.

She looked to be having every bit as much trouble sleeping as he did. The sheets were twisted around her legs as she tossed and turned. She had found one of his T-shirts to wear, an old Proxima Swashbucklersone.

Dexter looked at her for a long time and then returned to his couch, silently cursing his over-developed moral sense.

He had only just lain down, when he sat bolt upright again.

He looked around, not sure what had caused him to react like that. He had.... felt something. Something terrifyingly alien and yet at the same time slightly....

.... familiar.

There was nothing in sight, nothing that had not been there three seconds ago.

But he was sure he had felt something.

He lay back down, his head spinning. The alcohol. That was it. Or perhaps some aftereffect of.... earlier. Maybe he was picking up Talia's nightmares. He couldn't help but grin. If she was having any more pleasant dreams, that might be fun.

Talia!

He leapt up in an instant and ran for her room. Not him, he knew that. Not him.

Her!

She was lying still on the bed, her head thrown back. Standing over her was a tall man he did not recognise, but then he could not see the intruder's face. His head was bent low over Talia's, and he seemed to be.... breathing in her air. Only it wasn't air, it was light.

Dexter ran forward, the instincts of a thousand youthful street fights surging in his body. The figure began to turn, but he was not quick enough to dodge Dexter's punch. He had been in countless fist fights in his life, and he knew he would be in a good many more, but he had never thrown a punch like that before, and he doubted he ever would again.

The man fell, collapsing in a heap. Dexter did not even look at him, but turned instantly to Talia. She was motionless, her eyes open but staring fixedly ahead. He put his hand over her mouth and was relieved to feel her breath on his palm.

Then an explosion of pain burst in his mind and he reeled, stumbling back against the wall. Looking up through eyes blurred with agony, he saw the intruder rising. For the first time he could clearly see its face.

It was oddly misshapen, as if made of wax that had started to melt in the noonday sun. Light poured from its eyes and mouth.

Greetings, brother,it said.

* * *

The Vorlon's voice was a chill, cold thing. Vejar knew that Vorlon speech was entirely telepathic in nature. They had no tongue, no vocal cords, no lungs, nothing but energy, and their voices came entirely from their thoughts. They could appear to speak in whatever tone or language they wished.

Ulkesh chose to speak with the voice of the dead, the voice of a cold wind through an autumn graveyard, the voice of ghosts buried and forgotten.

Vejar said nothing. D amn you, Galen,he thought. W hat have you got me into? Thoughts of passion and fury began to take shape in his mind as he started to prepare himself for conjuring, truly conjuring, for the first time in years.

Vejar took a careful step backwards, flicking his gaze from Ulkesh to Lyta. Neither was moving, and he could not tell which of the two looked less alive.

Well, Galen. Congratulations. You could not have chosen someone else for this suicide mission?

Finding his voice, and his courage, he looked up squarely into the Vorlon's eye stalk. "I am to be killed, just for having come here?" he asked.

"Well, I see. There is a human saying you might not be familiar with. It has something to do with the relative nature of punishments for varying crimes." Vejar's mind was racing. He could feel his skin crawl with the rush of power.

"You might as well be hung for a sheep...."

His eyes blazed furiously. Fire crackled from his fingertips.

"As a lamb!"

He hurled the fireball forward, instantly forming another conjuration. He watched as the Vorlon's encounter suit became an inferno, flames licking over every inch of it. Behind him a circle of ruins and flames and darkness formed. Something emerged from it, something black and crackling with electricity. It moved with an arachnid grace, its many eyes blazing with fiery light.

Through the flames engulfing it, Ulkesh's eye stalk turned.

Vejar reeled before the voice in his mind. Blood filled his eyes and mouth and he had to steady himself against the wall, pouring all his concentration into controlling and animating the construction he had summoned. It was not a true Shadow of course, just a manifestation of his will, but it would be enough for a short time.