To Dream in the City of Sorrows Read Online Free PDF

might be reading in the papers.
    “Computer, I wish to contact Malcolm Sinclair, Australian continent, Earth, access code on file.”
    Again, the short time to process, again refusal.
    He couldn’t get through to his superiors or his family on Earth, and couldn’t reach his friends on Babylon 5. There had to be a reason, but what was it? Who didn’t want him making contact with anyone outside of Minbar? The Minbari? His own government?
    One last shot. And a long shot at best.
    “Computer, I wish to contact Universal Terraform headquarters, Hong Kong, Earth. Standard search for the access number.”
    The system processed the request far too quickly.
    “Sorry, but communication with that link cannot be established at this time. Please try later.”
    Angry and frustrated, Sinclair pushed away from his desk and stood, accidentally tipping his chair over and to the floor with a clatter. Venak hurried in to see what was wrong. The startled look on the Minbari as he hurriedly backed out of the room, cooled Sinclair’s anger considerably. He couldn’t allow himself to get that angry. It was a luxury he could not afford right now. But he vowed that Rathenn would get him a link to Earth or to Babylon 5 by the next day at the latest, or he would damn well know the reason why.
     
    When Sinclair got back to his quarters that evening, he was exhausted. The arriving passenger ship had brought twelve Humans from its run through the outer colony worlds. Though most would not be staying on Minbar for long, Rathenn had pushed Sinclair to see as many of them that day as he could, giving him no time to pause.
    His three Minbari house helpers were setting out his dinner. Sinclair carefully enunciated his request in the Minbari religious dialect that they leave his bed from now on in a horizontal position, and was rewarded with wide-eyed looks of apparent delight at his effort. At least that’s what it appeared from what he could see of their downturned faces as they bobbed up and down, bowing before hurriedly leaving.
    He managed only a few bites of the dinner. Wearily, he went to the bathroom, grabbed a towel and went into the bedroom to wrestle the bed back to a horizontal position and then wedged the towel into the bed’s mechanism to steady it and keep it from tilting forward or backward. As he did so, he once again regretted that the 26 draft that came through his quarters made sleeping on the floor next to impossible.
    He went to bed and found, as usual, that as tired as he was, he could not fall asleep. In fact, he was now wide awake. He sat back up, but the motion jostled the bed enough that the towel slipped from the mechanism. The bed slowly clicked up to a forty-five-degree angle and Sinclair slid off to his feet. He pushed the bed back to the horizontal position. He bent down, stuck his hand under the bed, grabbed the towel and tried to yank it back into the right place. He had tried many different objects for securing the mechanism into the right position, but the towel worked best. Usually.
    He tugged and pulled on the towel, reaching further in. Without warning, the towel slipped and with a click, click, click the metal gears began to grind over his hand. Sinclair yanked his hand back and let out a creative stream of invective. Then with clenched teeth, he shook off the pain and tried once more, this time with success.
    That battle over, hopefully for the night, but now more awake then ever, he went over to the chest, opened it, took out the bottle of whiskey, and poured himself one shot.
    He was not a big drinker, but neither did he begrudge himself the occasional drink, and on a planet of aliens for whom alcohol was near poison, this small bottle contained a nearly irreplaceable Human luxury, one he guarded carefully.
    And most importantly, it was a gift from Catherine. Where was she right now? What would she think of where he was now? In the darkness, he lifted the shot glass in a silent toast to their love, and drank