A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4

by Gareth D. Williams

  All conversation stopped as Sheridan entered. G'Kar looked at him with a critical eye, and he did not like what he saw. Sheridan's eyes seemed hollow and deep-set. There was several days' worth of unshaved fur on his face. G'Kar admittedly had little experience with the human habit of 'shaving', but he did recognise it as a symptom that Sheridan had been taking very little care of himself.

  G'Kar then switched his gaze to Comm.... Captain Corwin. He knew Sheridan better than anyone else here. He looked every bit as concerned as G'Kar felt.

  Sheridan stopped by the computer console at the head of the room and turned to face the Council. His eyes touched briefly on Delenn's empty chair, and then he looked behind them all to the figure at the far end of the room. Ulkesh was standing there, silent and still.

  "Thank you all for coming," Sheridan said. His voice at least showed no sign of fatigue or grief. It was as firm and authoritative as always. "You've all had a chance by now to read my reports on the new Dark Star fleet. As you have seen, they are a match for the Shadow capital ships, in sufficient numbers and with adequate support. According to Ambassador Ulkesh a second wave of ships will be available to us by the end of the year, but it is my belief we need to act decisively before then.

  "For too long now we have been reacting to the Shadows, not acting. That was necessary at a time when we had no adequate means of opposing them save by entrusting to luck and miracles. These have got us this far, yes, but at great cost. We cannot afford to keep going on luck. Believe me, I found that out against the Minbari. There comes a time when we must stop reacting, and start acting."

  He paused, and drew in a deep breath. Turning to the computer console, he called up a map of the human sector of space.

  "G'Kar and his Rangers have managed to discover the location of many of the Shadow bases. A great many of course are near their stronghold at the Rim, Z'ha'dum. I have been there, and I know it is well fortified. However, it is my belief that we can take Z'ha'dum.... eventually. I know it seems impossible now, but I assure you it can be done. They are not Gods, and they are not legends. They can be beaten, their ships can be destroyed, and they have been suffering losses since the start of this war just as we have. Eventually they will run out of resources.

  "I'm not saying it will be easy, and I'm certainly not saying we can take Z'ha'dum straight away. First, we have to deprive them of their bases and outposts between here and there. It's the oldest military rule in the book: never leave a live and ready enemy behind you.

  "Most of their outposts are on uninhabited or low-tech worlds. Staging points, mostly, at convenient locations for assaults on shipping lanes and so forth. We plan to drive them off these, but G'Kar and his Rangers have only been able to discover so many. There will be more we haven't found, so.... that will not be our major priority. If we have to destroy an outpost on the way to our immediate concerns we will, but I am not going to spend all my energy on a game of hide-and-seek.

  "The Shadows have one significant base this side of Z'ha'dum." He called up an image of Proxima 3 on the screen. "The Resistance Government has made a deal with the Shadows, allowing them a complete and permanent presence within human space. Much of this is on the border of Narn territory, in areas formally controlled by the Narns. Other than installing a few perfunctory fortifications along these borders, the Narns have made no effort to guard against the Shadows.

  "Do you know why that is, Ambassador G'Kael?"

  The Ambassador shifted in his seat. "We have not been attacked by these Shadows. Also, we are on good terms with the Resistance Government."

  "That will end, as of today. I do not expect the Kha'Ri to participate fully in our war with the Shadows, but they will not be their allies. Whatever deals you have brokered with them.... they end."

  G'Kael started. "Are you suggesting we have allied ourselves with the Shadows?"

  "The only Narn ships that have been attacked are those loyal to Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar. I do not know why your trade routes and shipping lanes have been left safe, and I do not care. If any Narn ship comes to defend any area of human space, we will destroy it. The Kha'Ri can choose to be our ally, or it can choose to be neutral and pursue its own private war with the Centauri. It will not be our enemy."

  G'Kael's eyes darkened. "I will tell them so."

  "See that you do. If they do not officially agree to lend solid military aid in this campaign, then you will no longer be welcome at military meetings. You are free of course to attend regarding domestic matters and issues of foreign policy, but if you are not our ally, I will not tell you anything you can use to inform the Shadows. Leave, now! Go and speak to your Government and tell them what I have just told you. When you come back with solid promises of aid, military or support-based, then you will be able to resume your position."

  G'Kael's anger was clear in his face, but he said nothing. He simply rose to his feet and left the room.

  "Perhaps I should leave as well, Captain," said G'Kar softly. All eyes turned to him.

  Sheridan actually laughed, although it was a patently false chuckle. "You, G'Kar? Of course not. You've been fighting the Shadows longer than any of us. I trust you."

  "But not my Government?"

  "I have spoken to your Government, remember? There are snakes I would trust more. No offence, but until they come down firmly on one side or another I don't want to be within a million miles of any of them. They're going to have to choose what's more important to them; their personal vendetta with the Centauri, or the struggle to protect all civilised life in this galaxy.

  "Anyway.... to return to what I was saying before. The Shadows' only major bases are the ones in human-controlled space. Proxima of course, but they also have a large military presence at the colonies of Beta Durani and the ruined Orion Seven. We're going to take them, starting as soon as possible. I have prepared a list of support ships, which has been presented to your aides. I will understand if your Governments cannot provide them all, but we will need every ship we can muster.

  "The Shadows have tainted my people for their own purposes. A corrupt, power-hungry Government has embroiled the whole of humanity in this war. They are my people, and I am the one who brought them to this fate.

  "I will not have it! Humanity will be free, and the Shadows will lose their major stronghold this side of the Rim. Then.... we will make for Z'ha'dum.

  "Any questions?"

  There was a brief moment's silence, and then a flurry of voices. G'Kar stayed silent, not because he had no questions to ask, but because he was afraid of the answers he would receive.

  * * *

  Sinoval walked through the ruined streets of his city. He showed neither remorse nor pain over what had happened here. True, it had been his decision to abandon Minbar and leave her open and vulnerable to the Earther fleet, but the planet had been indefensible by that time. Had he stayed, he would have lost both himself and the few ships under his command.

  It had been over a year since last he had trodden here. He remembered it as it had been, broken, devastated, filled with the bodies of the dying and the dead. A humbling reminder that nothing was eternal, nothing was so strong it could not be broken, nothing so well built it could not be torn down.

  There were no bodies here now, and some effort had been made to clear the rubble from the streets. He paused, deep in thought. Sherann had spoken of survivors being herded here by the Vorlons. He and Delenn had believed they had rescued everyone. And if they had not, then Sinoval's practicality had won out over Delenn's soft heart. Any who remained would die from the poisons in the skies and water, or from simple starvation, probably before they could be found.

  But it appeared they had both been wrong. The Vorlons had worked their usual miracles here. The air was clean of poisons, if not of dust. The water was dull and muddy, but not acidic.

  Sinoval could not work out why they would want to do such a thing. What purpose could they have for Minbar? Perhaps they intended to bring the Minbari back here, to bask in th
e glory of their victory.

  He looked up and saw his destination, in gleaming domes and spires. The Temple of Varenni. One of the few buildings completely untouched by the bombing, thanks, so the people believed, to the benevolent presence of the Vorlon saviour within its walls. Sinoval put it down to strong foundations, and the safeguards incorporated there by its builders, many thousands of years ago. The power of the Starfire Wheel too was not something to be taken lightly.

  He had spoken to the Vindrizi in Durhan's care, as well as to the Soul Hunters. No one knew the truth behind the Starfire Wheel or the Temple of Varenni. The Grey Council records indicated it was at least as old as the city, and probably older. It was even possible that Yedor had been built around the temple.

  In the days before Valen, it was said, the leaders of warring clans had come to settle their disputes in the Starfire Wheel, each one willing to give his life that his clan be victorious. They had surely not invented the Starfire Wheel, merely harnessed its power.

  And it had considerable power. No one knew exactly how it worked, but it somehow managed to amplify the radiation from Minbar's sun and focus it into one, powerful burst capable of destroying utterly anything that stood within it. Except, of course, those clever enough to provide shielding of their own. Sinoval gently patted the pike that hung at his side. Stormbringer had saved him before, with a few minor modifications. It would do so again, channelling its own energy to create a shield, so that the radiation slid past him.

  He continued walking. The sound of his footsteps was the only thing that could be heard. Yedor was to all intents and purposes utterly dead. He wondered idly where the other survivors were, but then concluded that it did not matter. They were hiding no doubt, or imprisoned somewhere by the Vorlon. Sherann would find them if she could, and tell them that their deliverance was approaching.

  Then she would do one other thing, one very important thing.

  She would bring the Vorlon to its doom.

  Sinoval did not know exactly where the Vorlon was, but he knew it was not in the Temple. Not yet, anyway. He had dispatched Soul Hunters there, to.... prepare matters. The Primarch was there also. A Vorlon soul was a rare and powerful thing. It would probably take someone with the power of the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus to capture one.

  Sinoval reached the Temple and stopped, looking at the vast doorway before him. There was a symbol engraved at the top of the archway. He looked at it, and started. He had seen that symbol many times before and not known what it meant, but now he knew. He had spoken to the Vindrizi about the Temple, and one of them had been here in a Minbari host, many thousands of years before.

  It was a word in the Vorlon language. It was the symbol for a tomb.

  Sinoval smiled, and then began to chuckle. How very appropriate.

  He walked up the steps and entered the Temple, making for the Inner Sanctum and the Starfire Wheel. He touched Stormbringer, and felt through it the hum of the Well of Souls.

  Today was a day that would be long remembered.

  * * *

  Dexter Smith's head ached. He knew that he was covered in bruises, and there was a sharp, stabbing pain in his side whenever he tried to breathe. Lights flickered in front of his eyes.

  He could.... remember.... Pain, that was it, for the most part. And there was someone else, wasn't there? A woman. Where.... was she?"

  He had woken up in a dark room, his whole body aching. He had called out for someone, anyone, and a few moments later someone — he thought it was a doctor — had come in and looked at him. The doctor had seemed reasonably satisfied, but he had given him an injection. He had not said a single word throughout the examination. At least the lights that had come on with his arrival remained on after he had left.

  And after him, someone had arrived bearing food. He recognised nutri-glop when he saw it, but it had been a while since his last meal and he had eaten it quickly, albeit with a certain lack of enthusiasm.

  And not long after that security guards had arrived, although he knew instantly that these were not the official Proxima Security Forces. Their uniforms were darker, and they were much too professional for Sector 301, or most other sectors come to that. He had also recognised the high-tech trank guns at their sides. They were the newest model, and bordering on the illegal.

  They had led him to another room and left him there. Neither of them had said a word.

  He winced at the pain in his side and sat down, looking around him. Flashes were beginning to come back to him now. He and Talia had tried to escape from Allan's apartment, but Security had caught them. There had been a fight and.... He sighed and rubbed at his head. This was all so pointless. Why even bother fighting? They weren't going to win.

  He looked around, a dark mood settling over him. He did not know where this was, but it was not a Security holding cell or an interrogation room. It looked more like a private living room, albeit one carefully cleared of everything apart from the most basic furniture.

  "Feel free to make yourself comfortable, Mr. Smith," said a voice from nowhere, and he started. Looking up, he saw the commconsole high in the wall, and sighed. The screen was blank and the voice electronically distorted. "My doctors have assured me you will recover well. Nothing is broken beyond repair. I apologise for the.... over-zealousness of the security guards who arrested you."

  "Who are you?" he asked. "This doesn't look like a Security cell."

  "It isn't. I am.... merely a private citizen with a certain influence in various parts of the Government. My name, I fear, must remain a secret for the time being, although a time may come when that will change. Feel free to make yourself at home."

  Smith sat back. "So, what's this all about then? What do you want with me?"

  "A dangerous question, Mr. Smith, but to answer.... I merely wish to talk. There are certain matters to be negotiated concerning the long-term future of our race. You may have a vital part to play in such a future."

  "Yes? Where's my friend?"

  "You mean Miss Winters? Or whatever name she happens to be going by at present. There is no reason to worry, Mr. Smith. She is perfectly safe, and in good hands. I felt it better that this be a private discussion, at first anyway.

  "So.... let us talk...."

  * * *

  Talia's eyes flickered open, and her first instinct was to try to move. She could not. Her arms and legs were secured. She looked down and saw green vines holding her body in place. She pulled at them, and a sudden shock tore through her body.

  "Where am I?" she asked, not so much expecting an answer, but more to discover if there was anyone around to hear her. There was no audible reply, not even the sound of breathing. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind.

  Something burst open, and in an instant all her psi blocks and walls collapsed. A brilliant flash of light filled her mind, and all her thoughts and memories were laid bare.

  said a voice.

  There was an agonising burst of pain, and she shook with the intimacy of the violation. An instant before she passed out she did something she could not recall ever having done before.

  She screamed.

  Chapter 3

  The city of Yedor had been renowned for many things before its devastation. It was of course the capital of the Minbari Federation, and while the elusive and mysterious Grey Council was not based in the city, many of the Government buildings were.

  Even apart from its political significance, Yedor had had much to attract visitors. One of the oldest cities in any civilised world, it was home to many wonders. Libraries, Halls of Records, cathedrals, temples. Monuments, shrines, artificers with skill in the shaping of crystal and stone and metal.

  But one of the most beautiful buildings in the city was the Temple of Varenni. It was not the largest temple in Yedor, but it possessed an indefinable beauty and mystery. It was also home to the Starfire Wheel, an ancient weapon few understood. It was there, a thousand years ago, that Val
en had been proved worthy in his trial by fire. He had remained in the Starfire Wheel past the point when he should have died, and thus the universe had signalled he had a great destiny to fulfill.

  No one knew the exact reason for the construction of the Temple, and few suspected there was anything unusual about it. Of those who did, none grasped the truth, not even Primarch Sinoval the Accursed, who had accomplished the same miracle here as Valen had. Sinoval had access to all the sources of knowledge that could have told him the secrets behind the Temple, but he did not care to look, and he would not have heeded if he had.

  Deep within the surface of the earth, in catacombs no Minbari had entered in hundreds of years, there lay a tomb. A Vorlon had been buried there, many centuries ago. A holy figure, even a prophet. The Vorlons had never failed to honour and venerate this spot, and when Minbar had been attacked they had come to ensure it survived.

  And now they intended to bring an end to one of their greatest enemies, trusting to the holiness of this place to bring them success.

  It is an ancient law, so old it is almost forgotten. It concerns innocent blood, and the shedding of it on holy ground.

  There is a Vorlon in Yedor, a young one by the standards of its race. It is to be both the bait, and the trap itself. It knows what is expected of it. It knows that it is sometimes necessary to die for the sake of a worthy cause. It hears the words of the innocent, telling it that he is here. The Accursed One. He is here, and is desecrating their holiest place.

  Another might be angry at being expected to walk into such an obvious trap, but the Vorlon does not care, does not heed. The Accursed One is dangerous, yes, and can hurt its kind. But this battle will be fought on holy ground. How can it fail?

  The Vorlon pauses as it nears the door to the Temple of Varenni, and something within its ageless soul shivers. The damage to the temple has been repaired. The prophet of old buried here will surely smile upon its children.