Just to be sure, he had remained standing and passed up the opportunity to sample some of the tea. He had always been a coffee drinker anyway.
He looked at the Captain, who seemed to be perfectly at home here, and that was even more worrying. He was sitting on one of the chairs, flicking idly through an old issue of Humanity magazine that had been discarded on the table. Corwin caught a glimpse of the picture on the cover, and read the tagline. "Lieutenant Commander Ramirez — One of the New Generation of Earthforce."
"I wonder if they get a subscription out here," he muttered. The Captain looked up.
"Oh," he said. "Yes. Last October's issue, I think. Da.... He must have brought it with him when he came here. Something to read on the way, no doubt." He chuckled. "They're talking about the proposed line of ships for the new year. The Saint-Germain, the Dark Thunder and the De'Molay. According to the dates here, the Saint-Germain must be done by now." He shook his head. "I've missed a lot. All those months...."
"Who's the bloke on the cover? I don't think I recognise him."
"Oh, Earthforce's up-and-coming new star apparently. I don't remember the name, but that's not surprising. He'd be one of the new generation.... since Earth. God, he looks so young."
"He looks older than me. I think."
"The more things change, the more they stay the same," the Captain muttered. "I bet my superior officers were saying that about me when I joined. God, I never thought I'd get to be this old. Coming up to forty-five this year. That is old, isn't it?"
"Oh, ancient," replied Corwin dryly.
"And when I look back.... Just how did we get here? In rebellion against our Government, fighting a war against one of the oldest races in the galaxy.... in love with a Minbari.... Was there anything we could have done, do you think? Anything that could have prevented this.... all this?"
"I don't know. It's hard to look back and pick out one moment where everything went wrong. We did all we could, I guess. We did what we had to do."
"Yes, I suppose." He tossed the magazine aside. "It's just weird. I can't get my head around it all sometimes. I can see.... all the roads of the future stretching out before us, and I've no idea which one to take. Just what do we do now? If we took the wrong path before, then can we bring things back to where they should be? Is that even possible any more?"
"I think.... I think we just have to hope for the best. We can't give up. We have to keep trying."
"There must be another way. There.... I think you're right, David. You're a good man.... a good friend. How's Mary? I completely forgot to ask before."
"She's.... gone. I haven't spoken to her for months."
"Ah.... I'm.... sorry."
"Don't be. It's.... better for her this way. She's alive, and she's not worrying about whether I'm not going to come back one day."
"Oh, you will. You're going to outlive all of us."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The Captain smiled, and for the first time since his revival he looked like himself. Corwin was about to say something when the door opened, and he turned. The Captain rose from his seat, obviously expecting to see Delenn.
It wasn't Delenn. It wasn't even Ambassador Sheridan.
It was a humanoid figure, an alien, dressed in long, flowing robes. Its head was scaly and high, with little horns rising from the back. It did not shimmer, and it did not hold a glowing orb, but Corwin still knew what it was.
"Drakh," he whispered.
"Yess," it replied. "Drakh."
"You're all dead," he protested. "We destroyed you at Minbar."
"You destroyed our fleets, our orbs, our magi. Our warrior caste is broken and gone. The rest of us.... remain. We bid you welcome.... to our home...."
"Where's Delenn?" asked the Captain. "Where is she?"
"She will be here.... soon. Yess."
"No," whispered the Captain. "Damn you. Damn you!" A weapon appeared in his hand, and he raised it. The Drakh's eyes twitched as if in surprise, and then its body was thrown back against the wall, a smoking hole in its chest.
"Captain, what...?"
"They killed her," he whispered, tears rising in his eyes. "They.... they killed her. Damn them! They killed her!"
"What? How do you know...?"
"I.... I just know. Come on. We have to get back to the ship."
"What are we going to do?"
"We.... we can't do anything here. I swear I'll be back, though.... and I'll blow this entire planet straight to Hell! Come on.!"
Corwin let the Captain pull him towards the door, and then his instincts took over and he started to run alongside him. "I thought you gave up your weapons," he said, as they began hurriedly strapping on their breathing masks.
"Something my.... my father taught me," he whispered. "Always be prepared for anything. I brought a spare."
Beneath their feet the ground began to shake. Almost as if the planet itself was shouting. Corwin stumbled and almost fell. As he staggered to his feet he saw another Drakh come round the corner towards them. This one was not alone.
"Congratulations," said Smith hurriedly. "You've just won the award for most irritating clich? of the day."
"What can I say? I'm an old-fashioned sort of guy. You aren't going to resist, are you? Only, I just had the place recarpeted, and blood would be very hard to shift. Play along nicely, and I promise you a reasonably easy demise. Try to kick up a fuss, and.... Well, there's a lady present, so I really can't go into details."
"I think my stomach's strong enough for the details," Talia replied. "Who's your contact at Interplanetary Expeditions?"
He swiftly raised his gun and shot it in her direction in one fluid motion. It struck her arm and she fell, wincing. "Not that old trick," he snapped irritably. "It's an 'ooh, let's ask him a sudden question so he thinks about the answer and you read his mind and find out everything' sort of thing, isn't it? Well, that was a 'let's shoot the telepath with a sleeper bolt so she loses her telepathic powers and couldn't read the mind of a Shredded Wheat' sort of response."
"What can I say?" she replied, trying to struggle to her feet. There was blood on her arm, and her eyes were unfocussed. "I'm an old-fashioned sort of girl."
"Actually, that's a fairly new response. There are other ways around telepathic scans, of course. Filling your mind with all sorts of gibberish, I'm told that works. You know, humming stuff, advertising jingles, maths. But then I was never any good at maths and I got fed up with all the jingles staying in my head. There's the psionic jammer I showed your friend of course, but that gives me a bloody awful headache, so I took it out. No, these work much better. Leave you with unpleasant reactions as well, or so I understand. Well, nausea, headaches, that sort of thing. How are you, anyway?"
"Just.... fine...." she replied.
"Good. I always like to hand on the merchandise in good condition. My contact gets very upset with me if they're a bit beaten up."
"We couldn't have that now, could we?" muttered Smith. Trace turned his gaze on him.
"Oh, look. It's the social crusader. What brings you here, then? Her, I can understand. She's poking around in my private affairs to see what I'm doing with her people, but you.... Just trying to impress a pretty lady, is it? Get inside her skirts, hmm?"
"I was looking for evidence I could use to bring you down," he said calmly.
"Why do you care, for God's sake? I've never done anything to you. At least, I don't think so. What, did I kill your brother or something and this is a revenge gig?"