A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Prologue : The Missing Year addm-5

by Gareth D. Williams

  "Drazi have sovereignty over Drazi worlds. Alliance soldiers come to Drazi worlds, we will kill Alliance soldiers."

  Sheridan's face darkened. G'Kar knew what was coming. He looked across the room. The Vorlon was still standing there in the corner. It raised its eye stalk and looked back at him. There seemed to be…. pleasure in its gaze.

  "You leave us no choice," Sheridan whispered. "None at all."

  * * *

  There was something Delenn had once heard about leadership, a lesson from Dukhat. Leadership was a constant struggle between doing was what right and what was necessary.

  It was a lesson she had remembered more than once, but never with greater sorrow than now.

  "They have been with us from the start," she said sadly. "Vizhak and Taan Churok have been our strongest supporters. They granted us their world on which to build our Alliance. They lent us their soldiers and their warships. They fought for the honour of carrying me into battle.

  "And now…. now we will blockade and invade their homeworld, arrest members of their Government, impose our laws and our customs on them.

  "It is necessary, I know, but it is very far from being right."

  "I know," John replied. He was at the far side of the room, carefully putting on his clothes. His ritual reminded her of tales of the warriors of Valen's day, readying themselves for battle, beseeching their Gods for aid, preparing to kill.

  "There must be another way," she said, softly.

  "There isn't," John said. "I don't want to do this either, but we have to…. We…. we can't let the Shadow vassals run around loose. We have to know where they are, what they are planning. And we have to know how far up in the Drazi Government they've gone. What if the riots and the political upheaval, what if all of that was orchestrated by them? What if they're trying to complete their Masters' work? What if it's the Shadows themselves, and they only pretended to leave?"

  "No," Delenn said. "They have gone." She remembered a darkened conversation with many faces, all issuing a final message, one that had spoken of good intentions where she and her allies had seen only evil results. We only wanted to show you the stars.

  "Maybe," John said doubtfully. "But that's the point. We have to know. We can't allow another war. We can't."

  "So we bring war to avoid war?"

  "No, we're bringing the threat of war to achieve peace."

  "Do you have to go? Could someone else not go? Not Daro, I know, but Kulomani? Captain Tikopai? Surely there is someone else?"

  He shook his head. "I'm General. I'm leader of the Dark Star fleet. If anyone is going to do this it might as well be me. If David were here, then…. perhaps…. but there isn't anyone else we can trust with something like this."

  "Do you know when David will be back?"

  "When he's ready." John finished and turned to face her. "How do I look?"

  He was in his full dress uniform, the first time he had worn it for real. They had been commissioned for the Dark Star crews after the end of the Shadow War. They were black and grey, and all bore the sunburst badge that had slowly replaced G'Kar's original circle — of — light emblem for the Rangers.

  "Like a leader," she said simply. He smiled and kissed her cheek. "I will be back," he said. "Nothing's going to keep us apart. Nothing."

  "I believe you," she whispered. But she had seen too many friends depart these past terrible weeks. Taan had left openly, contemptuous of any attempt to stop him. Juphar had commanded Daro to take him back to Zhabar. Unwilling to lead his ship in an assault on his own world, Daro had gone, as had almost every other Drazi officer in the Dark Star fleet. In less than a month, the Alliance had been sorely crippled.

  And for what? A true resurgence of the Enemy? Or just one ambitious man who did not care where his dark allegiances took him?

  She shivered. A dark wind seemed to blow through her heart.

  * * *

  In the end the Drazi Conflict was resolved swiftly. The Dark Star fleet, under the personal command of General Sheridan, blockaded Drazi worlds and jump gates and imposed brutal trade sanctions. Rangers moved in force among the Drazi worlds.

  There were a few skirmishes as protected merchant ships tried to break through the blockades, but the Drazi warships, powerful as they were, proved no match for the Dark Stars. The Drazi consistently refused repeated entreaties to permit a full investigation of their worlds, and it took a peacekeeping force of Rangers to seize the Government buildings on Zhabar. With Rangers and foot soldiers on the surface and the Dark Stars in space, they eventually capitulated.

  Dr. Literana Varda was found murdered in a secret laboratory underneath the capital. His body was discovered in a room with only one securely — locked exit. A lair of three Faceless was located by a small group of Rangers. The Faceless were acting under the direction of a Z'shailyl Warleader. All of them were killed in the subsequent fight, along with twenty — four Rangers and almost a hundred troops.

  The members of the Drazi Government were all tried under the relevant clauses of the Kazomi Peacetime Accord. All were found guilty and sentenced to long terms on prison asteroids. A new Government was inaugurated and relations with the Alliance were resumed. The popular unrest that had swept the Drazi worlds earlier in the year was put down to manipulation by the Z'shailyl, aided by treacherous members of the old Government.

  Taan Churok resumed his place on the Alliance Council and Daro returned to the Alliance military, although not to his familiar Dark Star. He now captained a Drazi Sunhawk, and turned down all invitations to rejoin the Dark Star fleet.

  Vizhak could not be found. Although he had been publicly visible during the conflict he had vanished shortly after it ended. Speculation was rampant, some claiming that he had been murdered by the Alliance or the Faceless or the new Government. As the first Vorlon Inquisitors arrived on Zhabar, rumours began to circulate that Vizhak was gathering an army to free his people and would return when the time was right.

  One final rumour was circulating around the Drazi worlds during and shortly after the conflict. Strange aliens had been seen moving by night, always hiding, apparently drawn to places of death. No one seemed to look at them directly, or at least no one admitted to doing so, but a common thread to the stories was that each of them had a glowing stone in the middle of their foreheads.

  BARRINGER, S. (2293) Shadows on the Border: The Drazi Conflict. Chapter 7 of

  The Rise and Fall of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and

  the Beginning of the Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer,

  G. Boshears, A. E. Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.

  * * *

  The Vorlon network had existed in one form or another for millennia. Ever fearful of an attack by the Shadows, they had seeded their worlds and colonies with a defensive network, a system of carefully placed jump tunnels between two fixed points in hyperspace, the sheer energy and force of the jump point held in check by a telepath, his or her power amplified both by the jump point and by all the telepaths in the other nodes, an exponential curve with the whole very much greater than the sum of its parts.

  It was only in 2261 that the network was first used offensively, as seen at the Battle of Proxima. The Dark Star fleet had been designed to create mobile nodes of the network, each ship having a telepath trapped somewhere within its core. The power of telepaths against the Shadows had long been known, and Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, in his very early days of fighting the Shadows, had tried to create a breeding programme for Narn telepaths for this very purpose. Many telepaths however proved too weak to handle the strain of full combat and instances of death and burnout were very high. The extension of the network into a mobile force eliminated the need for this. Each Dark Star ship had an active telepath, one who had potential access to the power of every other telepath in the network, one who would not die or burn out and who had no choice but to support the will of the network.

  Its effectiveness was obviously enough to overrid
e any moral concerns among the Vorlons, if any of them even had any. It is worth noting, however, that construction of the Dark Star fleet did not begin in earnest until after the Battle of the Third Line which saw the death of the Vorlon known as Kosh, widely believed to have been leader of one of the more moderate of the Vorlon factions.

  Few people knew about the Vorlon network, and those who did were in no position to do anything about it. Captain David Corwin had made tentative moves towards liberating the mind of the telepath aboard his ship, the Dark Star 3 or the Agamemnon, but the destruction of the ship and the disappearance of his ally and lover Lyta Alexander halted any progress he might have made. His subsequent mental deterioration was also a negative factor.

  However, there was one threat to the security of the network, and one the Vorlons could not possibly have anticipated. It took a long time to become truly effective, but the ultimate results were devastating. The network was attacked from the most unexpected direction of all.

  From within.

  BARRINGER, S. (2293) A Serpent in the Garden. Chapter 12 of The Rise and Fall

  of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the Beginning of the

  Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer, G. Boshears, A. E.

  Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.

  * * *

  It had taken time to get this far, and he knew it would take much more time to get further, but the one thing he knew was that he had plenty of time. He might not have his freedom any more, but then he had had precious little of that in his life anyway.

  He did have one other thing as well as time, and that was anger.

  He could hear them all, his children, his brethren. There were no divisions between human and alien now, no boundaries at all. They were all his people, the special, the chosen, the unique.

  The telepaths. The telekinetics. The empaths.

  All of them were his people.

  And they were all in pain.

  He had woken from a very long and painful sleep, and all he had been able to see was the light. It had filled everything, from his mind to his vision to his perceptions to his horizons. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and he had wanted to immerse himself in it while being utterly repelled by it. It was everything he had ever dreamed of: pure, ultimate telepathic power, a melding of minds from across the galaxy.

  But it was also wrong. The minds were in pain, and they were trapped. And so he had pulled himself free.

  Sometimes, although how often he could not be sure, forces came through. Like the pull of gravity or magnetism, he was forced in one direction as a rush of mental power swept through him. It drained dry everything that he was, and focussed it, and sent it on to the next person, whose scream joined in with the others.

  The first thing he had learned was not to scream.

  The second thing had taken longer to learn, longer to remember.

  Some of these were his people, he knew that. People he had known. People he had loved. They were all people. Human or alien, they were all people. Each scream, each spark of light, each one was a living mind.

  Every one had an identity. Most of them simply could not remember theirs. The rush of memories and thoughts and power had scoured everything away. Many no longer even knew that they were individuals at all, just that they were part of a beautiful, terrifying whole.

  But they weren't, or at least, not like this. A whole like this had to be voluntary. This was slavery, this was worse than slavery, worse than the gloves and the badge and the frightened looks.

  When all of these realisations clicked together as one in his mind, he remembered his name.

  "I am Alfred Bester," he said aloud.

  That was only the beginning.

  * * *

  Z'ha'dum had always been a world feared and hated among those of the younger races who knew of its existence. Minbari legends spoke of Valen's assault on Z'ha'dum, causing the more reckless of the young warriors to dream of storming it themselves, but the other Minbari regarded it with rightful suspicion. A few of the learned Narn holy men and scholars were aware of the planet, and they treated it as an almost mythical Hell.

  Even with the Shadow War over, Z'ha'dum continued to exert its mystical spell on the younger races. The Shadows had abandoned their homeworld, it was true, but there were many rumours about things they might have left behind. Minbari spoke of holy places there, such as where Marrain and Parlonn fought their final duel, or the place where Valen first stepped on its surface. Whispers of hidden treasure, of vast, powerful caches of technology, of long — forgotten weaponry and sinister guardians.

  Any potential treasure — hunters were foiled, however. The Vorlon fleet completely blockaded the planet, refusing to allow anyone or anything to enter or leave the system. This only added to the rumours of course, and there were some reckless enough to try anything. Many people speculated about what kept the Vorlons there, about what they were guarding or looking for or hiding.

  All the speculations were dead wrong.

  GOLDINGAY, D. G. (2293) Stalkers on the Rim. Chapter 4 of The Rise and Fall of

  the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the Beginning of the

  Third, vol. 3, 2262: The Missing Year. Ed: S. Barringer, G. Boshears, A. E.

  Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.

  * * *

  It was a world of mysteries, of enigmatic power and lost wonders. It was a world where the Gods of old had walked and lived and thrived, and created dark technologies. The forges of great Thrakandar were now silent, shut down forever. The grim temples where the Priests of the Fallen Midnight had raised their souls in prayer now heard nothing but the wind. The sanctum of the Drakh magi was abandoned and forgotten.

  The Gods of Darkness and Terror had left Z'ha'dum. They had been defeated, cast down and exiled. It fell to the Gods of Light and Beauty to claim the dead world and see that its terrors never again threatened the galaxy.

  And in the most ancient and holy site on Z'ha'dum, where the Pale and Silent King alone had stepped, the Eldest being in the galaxy stood and watched.

  He watched as the Vorlons purged the world of all that the Shadows had left behind. He watched as they desecrated the Temples of Midnight, as they shattered the forges at Thrakandar, as they tunnelled deep into the bowels of the world, looking always for secrets hidden and forgotten.

  The Shadows had taken much with them as they left, but not even a race as old and powerful as they could remember everything. In the countless millennia of their history, they had created innumerable abominations and terrors and monstrosities. And they had forgotten many of them.

  But He remembered. Lorien remembered.

  One by one, slowly, the Vorlons found these forgotten instruments of destruction and devastation. One by one, they took them away to safety.

  And one by one, slowly, they spread out into the galaxy, seeking what the Shadows had left behind.

  On their departure, the Shadows had offered their vassal races the chance to come with them, to experience the universe beyond the Rim. Many had accepted and gone, but a few had stayed, and it was these that the Vorlons hunted.

  The Zarqheba had returned to their asteroid homes, their great wings carrying them through space as they had many millennia ago. Lorien was one of the few who remembered their cities of gold and splendour, before they had collapsed in fire and fury. The Zarqheba would never again know their former intelligence and beauty. Now they were little better than animals, but now at least they were free. The Vorlons were hunting them, but they knew how to hide. Lorien supposed they would escape.

  The Zener had scattered. Some had gone with their Dark Masters, others had stayed. They the Vorlons wanted most of all, for it was they who had crafted the weapons of biotechnology and chemical warfare that the Shadows had used so effectively. Some had been caught, some had been killed, but some remained free.

  The Streib had retreated. Never truly a vassal race of t
he Shadows, they had simply taken advantage of the chaos they brought. That was enough for them to be hunted and pursued. Their ships no longer raided, no longer hunted. They settled in their homeworld and hid.

  The byakheeshaggai were all dead, the last one slain by the Vorlons on Centauri Prime. None remained, here or beyond the Rim.

  There were others of course. The Z'shailyl, the Moradiin, the Faceless. Lorien watched them all, just as He watched everything else that transpired in the galaxy. He watched the building of Babylon 5. He watched the Drazi fall and be conquered. He watched peace and order come at last to the Tuchanq. He watched the others, the last survivors of races almost as old as His, move at last, returning to attend to the fate of the galaxy after so long in silence. He watched Sebastian awake and walk forth on his mission.

  And when, at the end of the Earth year 2262, Ulkesh came to see Him in His hidden sanctum, as he had more than once in the last year, He asked the same question He had on every other occasion.

  "Tell me. Have you found Cathedral yet?"

  The answer was always the same.

  * * *

  It was so quiet. So new. Crafted fully formed from hopes and aspirations and dreams. Every bit of metal, every bolt, every door, every room, every piece of equipment.

  It was all so new, and yet it seemed haunted.

  As G'Kar walked slowly through the corridors of Babylon 5 he could not shake that feeling. He had not used to believe in ghosts. But that was before. Before he had met Londo. Before the Machine. Before the War.

  Now he thought he believed in almost everything.

  It was finished. Babylon 5 was finished, almost ready to go on line. Oh, there would still be improvements and modifications to be made, little bits of tweaking here and there, but for the most part it was done.

  And was it worth it? Was it worth the expense? And not just in financial terms. The Drazi had rebelled partly because of this station. He had heard reports from Centauri Prime of famine and drought exacerbated by the crippling payments made to the Alliance. There were whispers of protest from Narn.