To Dream in the City of Sorrows (23 page)

“They killed you,” Marcus tried to shout. “If you hadn’t joined them, you’d still be alive.”

“And you’d be dead,” William said softly.

“God, why didn’t I listen to you! Maybe if I’d listened to you it would be different.”

His brother smiled at him. “It’s not your fault. I love you, big brother. Remember your promise ...”

Then Marcus was spiraling downward, as searing pain shot through his body. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him and he began to throw up, retching violently.

“Keep him under!”

A hypo. The pain receded under a blanket of warm darkness and Marcus gratefully gave himself up to it, remembering nothing more.

“Skydancer, you’re cleared for departure.”

Docking Bay 7 of the UTC Ops ship opened to space, revealing the welcome sight of the planet Epsilon3.

“Roger that, control,” Sakai said as she piloted her ship through the open space doors. “Skydancer is now clear. I’m proceeding to Babylon 5. Thanks for everything.”

“Roger. We’ll see you again.” It was good to see the stars again, to be in space even if only for the short time it would take to reach the station from where the Ops ship had taken up its position. She had been ten days in hyperspace aboard the Ops ship, which had its own jump-point generator, leaving behind the jump gate she had put out of commission to await repairs.

Her UTC employers had been amazingly forgiving about what she had done – once she had explained everything. Don’t worry about the jump gate, they had said, their insurance would pay for it. What she had done was quite understandable under the circumstances, although they did wonder if it had really been necessary to dump the entire contents of her sample bay. But it was her call, they said just a little reluctantly. Her reports and the other data she brought back almost made up for it. Good job, they had said.

But remember, they stressed again and again, she had an oath of confidentiality about her missions, and that included this encounter with aliens. They’d report it to the proper authorities on Earth; that was their job. She could just relax now and spend her commission. She shouldn’t worry about it. It was probably just a one-time encounter with some aliens no one will ever see again, they said. Happens in hyperspace. Happened to her at Sigma 957, hadn’t it?

What about the devastation at Ymir? she had asked.

They would investigate that thoroughly. But her first thought had probably been right, the original probe had probably malfunctioned. Ymir had probably always been like that. But they’d look into it.

She didn’t really know what to believe, but it was their call. Let them talk to Earth Central about it. She had a life to get back to, and it was waiting for her on Babylon 5.

“Babylon control. This is Earth survey ship Skydancer requesting permission to dock.”

She didn’t recognize the voice that answered. “Roger, Skydancer. Proceed to Berth 27. And welcome aboard.”

She hadn’t called Jeff from the Ops ship. She hated the thought of their first contact after so many months being by vidscreen. She wanted to see him and hear his voice unfiltered by electronics and distance, to feel his touch.

She maneuvered Skydancer into its berth, then stepped out into the pleasantly familiar customs area of Babylon 5. As she waited in line to present her identification, she strained to look over the crowd, trying to see if Jeff was there waiting for her, growing more and more disappointed as she failed to spot him.

“Identicard? Ms. Sakai!”

A security guard was standing in front of her. She had met him a couple of times. Zack Allen.

“Zack. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Welcome back. You going to be here long?”

“That all depends,” she said with a laugh. “Do you know where I could find the commander?”

“Ivanova? She’s in C and C–“

“No,” interrupted Sakai, puzzled. “Commander Sinclair.”

It was now Zack’s turn to look puzzled – then astonished. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“He was transferred. Promoted, I guess you could say.

“What?” Sakai said. “Where?”

Zack was clearly uncomfortable at being the one to tell her this. “To Minbar. He’s Earth’s ambassador there.”

A disconcerting sense of unreality separated Sakai from what Zack was saying. This didn’t make any sense. “When did this happen?”

“About a day after you left. Sorry. I thought you knew.”

“That’s okay,” she said slowly, taking her card back from Zack. “Thanks.”

She moved off, merging with the crowd, headed for – where? She had planned to stay with Jeff, as she always did. She would have to get a room. No, first she had to find Garibaldi or Ivanova. Jeff must have left a message for her. As she tried to move as quickly as she could through the throng of people, it suddenly struck her how oddly empty the station seemed to her now.

Marcus was sitting up in his Medlab bed, feeling very impatient.

“Well, you’re looking much better today.” Dr. Lillian Hobbs had entered his small room. ‘‘How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Marcus replied, more curtly than he had intended. He liked Dr. Hobbs. She had saved his life, after all. But he was ready to claw through the thick metal walls to get out of there. “When can I be released?”

“Very soon,” she said, glancing over his chart. “You’re doing remarkably well, but we don’t want to take any chances. You were a very sick man when you came in here: severe radiation poisoning, concussion, internal bleeding. You’re lucky. If they had found you even a day later than they did, you wouldn’t be sitting here. The best thing for now is rest and quiet.”

“Lucky is hardly the word I’d use,” Marcus said bitterly. He gestured toward the bedside computer monitor. “Can I at least have access to the station’s library and media system? I can’t get anything but the most boring music on this thing.”

Dr. Hobbs was silent for a moment. “Do you remember what happened to you, Mr. Cole?”

He looked away. “All too well.” Then a thought occurred, and he turned back to her. “Have you been trying to protect me from something?”

“ISN has been running a report on what happened.”

“I have to see it,” he said. “They can’t be saying anything I don’t already know. It’s important, please.”

She nodded wordlessly and left. He switched on the monitor sound down so he wouldn’t have to hear another note of that irritating music, and waited. Why was it so important to see an ISN report on what had happened? He had lived through it, hadn’t he? Was he looking for confirmation of what he remembered? Or did he hope to find some answers to who and why?

The screen went blank, and then up came a Babcom menu.

“Search ISN files for all reports containing key word Arisia, latest date first.”

Within seconds, he was seeing that morning’s ISN daily report.

“The Energy and Natural Resources Department today released more information on the tragic Arisia Mining Colony accident that left one hundred and fifty people presumed dead,” the news anchor said, “with only one known survivor. Department investigators report that a design flaw in the colony’s Orbital Refinery was the probable cause of the catastrophic explosion that destroyed both the refinery and the nearby Inhabitants’ Platform. The company that built the refinery for Cole Mining went out of business last year, but former company executives vigorously deny that their system could be responsible for such an explosion unless a series of human mistakes was also involved.”

My God, they don’t know,
Marcus thought. He would have to tell them what happened. Warn them. He hit the bedside call button, then decided not to wait. He got up to find Dr. Hobbs.

It had been a frustrating day. The first thing Sakai had done was try to talk to Chief Garibaldi, but he was not available. Then she tried contacting Ivanova, but she was not available. As a last resort, she tried to make an appointment with the new station commander, John Sheridan, but he was not available. She then tried to get hold of Ambassador Delenn, only to find out she was not available, either.

The absence of so many members of the command staff indicated something big was going on, but other than hearing some talk about problems with a group of aliens called the Striebs, she couldn’t find out what. All it meant to Sakai was that she couldn’t get the information she needed about what had happened to Jeff. So her next step had been to get a room where she could sit and read through her mail in case he had left something for her. As the station was unusually full at the moment, she ended up in a cramped room in one of the less desirable areas of the station. She didn’t care. She locked the door and started through the mail.

After five months away, there was a lot of mail waiting for her, both paper and electronic. Among the stack of real mail was one letter from Jeff, dated January Second. It was a short letter, written hurriedly before he had boarded the ship for Earth. It said only that he had been recalled to Earth and didn’t know why, but that he loved her and wanted to at least leave this message for her in case something unexpected happened. And that was it.

She turned to her computer mail, scanning the list of over two hundred messages, but again found only one message listed as being from J. Sinclair, that also dated January, less than two weeks after the other letter. It had been sent from Earth, right before Jeff had boarded the ship to Minbar, and had said essentially the same thing: that he had been assigned to Minbar as ambassador, that he would try to send her a longer message once there, and that he loved her.

That was it. No other contact from him once he reached Minbar. She didn’t know what to make of it. If her long years as a surveyor had taught her anything, however, it was not to jump to conclusions without sufficient facts.

She left the other messages for later, and turned instead to search the news files. Certainly the first ambassador to Minbar was big news and would have created quite a stir. She began viewing the reports hi chronological order, and at first was surprised at the relative paucity of information she found. It almost seemed as if Earth Central was deliberately playing down the importance of Sinclair’s obviously historic appointment.

As she continued, the stories took on a more disturbing tone. Reports quoting government sources suggested some impropriety in what Ambassador Sinclair was doing on Minbar, building in fervor until one story quoted a senator calling Sinclair a traitor.

It was outrageous, all of it! She was furious at what she read, and deeply puzzled. What was going on? And why hadn’t Jeff tried to leave word for her? There was a good explanation, and she would find it.

She opened every piece of real mail, but found nothing. Then she returned to her electronic mail to read every piece, no matter who it was listed as being from. It was late in the evening before she finally opened a short message, return address listed only as B5, dated from two months before, and unsigned.

No matter what anyone says, please come and I’ll explain everything. Please don’t decide anything until then.

Marcus had been batted around like a badminton shuttlecock, from bureaucrat to bureaucrat to bureaucrat at the Department of Energy and Natural Resources, and was ready to go through the screen at whatever indifferent civil servant was next when Assistant Director Esperanza appeared.

This was somebody with at least some authority, Marcus knew. He launched into his story, growing more and more detailed as Esperanza listened with what seemed to be sympathetic interest. He told Esperanza everything he could remember and what little he knew about the Shadows; everything except the part about the Rangers, remembering at the last moment that his brother had requested that be kept secret. He wasn’t sure why it had been so important to his brother, but he respected the wish.

When he finished, Esperanza nodded seriously, then asked: “Have you told anyone else about this, there at Babylon 5?”

“No. It didn’t occur to me to do so. This is the Energy Department’s jurisdiction.”

“You made the right decision, Mr. Cole. Let me compliment you on how clearheaded you are about all this, especially after such a terrible tragedy. Nothing will ever compensate you for the losses you have suffered, but we can at least expedite your insurance payment. You must be strapped for funds right now.”

“That’s true,” Marcus said. “But what about-“

“If you’ll activate your printout, my office has already uploaded a form for you. Take a moment to read it over, then sign it and put it back in the scanner. An account will be created for you there on Babylon 5 with your full refund by tomorrow morning.”

This was moving a little too fast and not at all in the direction Marcus had expected. But he got the printout and read it.

“This says Arisia Colony was lost to an industrial accident,” Marcus said on finishing. “By signing this, I’m agreeing that’s what happened. But I’ve just told you that’s not what happened.”

“Mr. Cole, your doctor on Babylon 5 says you arrived in a feverish, delirious state, suffering from severe radiation poisoning. Is it possible your memories of these aliens are only nightmares you suffered while you were ill? It would be perfectly understandable.”

“No,” said Marcus firmly. “My brother did not die from my fever-induced nightmares. I know the difference between nightmares and what I saw. And I know the government has been getting reports on these aliens from other people as well.”

“Those reports haven’t reached my desk, Mr. Cole,” Esperanza said. “But perhaps you’re right. You seem like a levelheaded man to me. I’ll pass on what you’ve said to the investigators. But in the meantime, nothing is harmed by signing this insurance claim. You do need the money, do you not?”

“Yes, but–“

“If you’re worried about liability, you’ll see that the document assigns absolutely no blame or culpability to you.”

It didn’t feel right to Marcus. It had all the earmarks of a bribe to keep him quiet. But he did need the money.

“Do you have any idea when I can return to Arisia?” Marcus asked, partly to stall for time to think, and partly because to him it was a very important question.