A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain addm-4
Page 28
"We refused, and continued to bring back the souls we had saved, creating new bodies for them. These new bodies would decay over time of course, but what matter? We would simply create new ones, over and over again, an eternal placing of the soul in new constructs of flesh.
"To die once is one thing, and a simple matter, but we began to die over and over again, many times, watching each prison of flesh collapse and wither. It seemed we were dying.... faster and faster with each new body. Again the first came to us, and warned us against this path. We scorned him, and our leader, one of the greatest of us, the first to be revived.... he told us that the first and his allies planned to destroy our work.
"We believed this, and gathered our forces, fortifying our laboratories and libraries. We built a mighty fortress around them, and used our powers to create a ship, a place that could travel between the stars and thus never be in danger of destruction. A stationary base is a target, an ever-moving one is not.
"We built Cathedral, and took to the stars in flight. There were many other races in the galaxy then, countless peoples, among them those you now call Shadows, and Vorlons, and others you know as First Ones. They were young then, and were being greeted and taught by the first and those who followed him. Carefully they were aided, assisted, given knowledge and wisdom, and raised to the stars.
"But there were many races, and the first could not find them all. We found some, hidden in dark places, where the first could not find them. We spoke to them, and promised them immortality if they would follow us. We told them how we could preserve their souls, and grant them new life in new bodies. We taught them how to do this.
"Many races accepted us, and swore fealty to us. Each race sent some of their number to come here and learn the ways of preserving souls. These became the first true members of the Order of Soul Hunters. Our leader, the first to be revived, named one the Primarch Nominus et Corpus, and to him fell the role of ruling the Soul Hunters. They would go out into the galaxy to find the great and the powerful at the point of death and preserve their souls, bringing them back to us that we might help them live again.
"Alas, we fell into darkness. Our leader, and all those who were continually returned to life were.... changed by their experiences. They had died hundreds, thousands of times, and each time they were reborn into the flesh, a part of their soul was missing. Our leader became mad. He became convinced that the first was gathering armies to destroy us, and deny to all the knowledge of immortality.
"Fleets were mustered, great ships that blotted out the stars, and we went to war. We killed billions, and we took their souls. Armies were raised against us. We landed on primitive worlds and subjugated their people to our whim. We landed on your world, before your first flight into space, and we hunted you in the night. It is small wonder that your people now fear us so much.
"Our Primarch believed in everything our leader said, utterly. He shared in our leader's madness. It was a terrifying time. We destroyed, and took those who did not wish to be preserved. We broke oaths sworn by our Order. We plunged the galaxy into horror.
"But there were some of us, some who still remembered. We knew there was a way to stop this, and so we began to act. We gathered together the souls of those we had taken, willingly or unwillingly. Leaders, thinkers, poets, dreamers, blessed lunatics. We brought them here to Cathedral, to the centre of the laboratory where we had first learned to stop death. We sealed the area and began to speak to them. These souls.... they were alive. We had placed them in bodies to make them immortal, but we had no need to. They were immortal, preserved in their soul globes. They could speak to each other, talk, dream....
"We began to bind these souls together, creating a.... sentience composed of them all. A unity, one single mind made up of a billion souls. We felt a sense of wonder as we heard this force speak to us. We had created the Well of Souls, a union of a billion lives. We let the Well of Souls judge us. The voices spoke to each other for long months, years even, as they reasoned. Finally, there was a consensus.
"By this time both our leader and the Primarch Nominus et Corpus had fallen in battle, and their soul globes were brought back to Cathedral to be given new form that they might continue the war. The Well of Souls refused to do that. The soul globe of the Primarch was implanted in the arch that marked the gateway into Cathedral. The soul of our leader.... was released, passing beyond the wall of death, never to return.
"The war was now over, and certain promises were forced from us by the Well of Souls. We were only to take the souls of the dying. We were never again to kill and then harvest. We would be preservers, not warriors. We would cease giving the souls bodies of flesh. They would instead be placed in wells of their own. Some here in Cathedral, others in small wells within our personal ships. Some we hid in places of sanctuary throughout the galaxy, where they would not be found.
"And above all, we were not to preserve the souls of our own Order. We were to die, to pass beyond. It had been our determination for immortality that had doomed us all, and so we would be denied what we gifted to others.
"Those who serve you now are the descendants of the Order of Soul Hunters first assembled by the second generation of the first race born to the universe. We live many lifespans, many thousands of years, but still we die."
"You did not."
"Ah, but I am not mortal as they are. I was once a mortal being, a mortal being who fought in that terrible war. I was born of the first race of the universe, and I was the first to swear my loyalty to the leader who cast us into damnation. I stood beside him in all things. When his soul globe was broken, I was still alive. I feared I would be killed, but another fate had been reserved for me.
"I became the conduit for the Well of Souls. I was the voice through which it spoke to our Order. I was a part of it, and hence a part of Cathedral. What you have seen and spoken to and called friend these last two years was merely a shell. My body is Cathedral, and now that you will take on my role I can return to it, my soul becoming one part of many."
"Wait! Why me?"
"You were.... known to us for many years, almost from your birth. You remember at the climax of your assault on Earth, you were attacked and wounded and killed?"
"I remember."
"One of our Fhedayar sensed your departure, and hurried to find you. He came upon your form and saw that a part of your soul remained, a tenuous connection to the body, a link formed by your anger and your determination to live. It was passing, though, and your soul finally departing.
"But I spoke to him. The Well of Souls spoke to him, and instead of preserving your soul as it fled, he helped guide it back into your body, renewing your life to fulfill a greater destiny.
"You are now our Primarch Majestus et Conclavus. The Well of Souls now speaks through you. Although it is everywhere within Cathedral, you should visit its chamber. The link will grow stronger with time."
"Then.... I will become a Soul Hunter?"
"You always have been. You simply have not realised it."
"I was.... the second Primarch Nominus et Corpus. The first was not of your race either. Who was he?"
"His soul globe died the day you came to us. His soul passed beyond, given rest at last. Among his own people he was a mighty warrior and a skilled diplomat, a poet even. His race was the one you now call.... Shadow."
"Have I done any better than he did? I broke your sacred law."
"All things change. Nothing can escape time. The Well of Souls has chosen you, in part because you can break laws in a noble aim.
"I must go now. Good fortune, Primarch. We will meet again I trust, a million years from now, when you too join Cathedral." The image of the Primarch shimmered, and he stepped forward, walking off the edge of the pinnacle. Sinoval rushed forward and looked over. There was no sign of him, only the darkness of space.
He sat down and closed his eyes. He could feel the Well of Souls, he could identify the billion voices within it, he could even name them all. This knowl
edge came to him, and something within the spirits of Cathedral smiled.
He opened his eyes, and began to clean Stormbringer.
* * *
Consciousness returned slowly. That was not a mercy, not with the voices returning with it.
Help us! Help us!
Some of them Talia thought she recognised. Friends, comrades, old lovers, whispers of forgotten pasts. Flashes of a life she had thought had passed her by.
Because of her disoriented state it took her a while to realise she was not secured. Twitching, she found the energy to raise her arm. It was not bound, nor the other one, nor her legs.
She had been laid on a small bed, a normal-looking hospital bed this time. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus her gaze on something, anything. It glared at her, a cold, sterile, barren sight. She looked around, and slowly, awkwardly, moving as if she were drunk, or as if her body were suddenly four times its age, she swung her legs over the bed and lowered herself awkwardly to the ground.
Her legs almost gave way. Leaning against the bed, she managed to hold herself steady. For the first time she noticed the foul taste in her mouth, and grimaced. She had been drugged. Some sort of tranquillising agent. A second booster injection probably, meant merely to keep her unconscious and prevent any earlier injections from losing their effect.
She forced a weak smile. Whoever these people were — IPX was the most likely candidate, but she had long ago learned never to make such blanket assumptions — they were not to know that she had been thoroughly inoculated against most drugs, poisons and tranquillisers. Not sleepers, unfortunately. Her system metabolised drugs much more quickly than normal.
That was not as pleasant as might be supposed.
Still, she knew she had an advantage now, and she had to get out of here. She might not have much time. Whatever was being done here, being done to her people, she would not let it be done to her. She knew something now. She — Help us! — had to get back to Al. She knew enough to know she could not do all this herself.
She swallowed the foul taste in her mouth and looked around. There was only one door in this room. It was a small room, pretty much dominated by the bed she had been lying on. There was some sort of equipment at the far corner, and as she hobbled towards it her clouded mind recognised it as a cryogenic storage case. It was empty, but it had been activated. It was 'warming up' now.
She felt a momentary flash of anger, and that only made the voices stronger. Her knees almost buckled, and it took a moment's concentration to force the voices back, swearing at her own stupidity. Strong emotions always made it more difficult for her to block the voices, well, the normal ones anyway. She had a feeling these would be even harder.
Beware! screamed one of them suddenly, louder than the others, and she sensed someone arriving. As fast as he could, she threw herself hard against the wall beside the door. It opened, and a figure stepped through. He was wearing a long white doctor's coat, and his head was bent over a datapad. She tried to skim his thoughts gently, but she could hear nothing over the cries of terror in her mind. This man had hurt her people. He had done all these things to them.
He raised his head and looked at the bed. He had a moment to register it was empty, before Talia lashed out with an elbow to the back of his neck. With a correctly-aimed blow, that should be enough to put most people down. Her aim was slightly out, but he fell anyway, dropping his datapad.
She was at his side, pressing her knee against his chest and her hands to his neck. Her movements were slower and more sluggish than she was comfortable with, but she would be fast enough to deal with him.
His eyes widened with pain at the pressure on his neck.
"Who are you?" she hissed at him. Her people were crying to her, some telling her to flee, others to kill him. She tried to shut them out enough to read his mind, but they were too loud for her.
"Dr. Vance Hendricks," he replied, wincing as she inadvertently increased the pressure on his neck. "How did you...?"
"What is happening here?"
"We.... we prep telepaths. We...." He coughed. Her vision was too blurred to notice the specks of blood at his mouth. "We.... we check their.... cryogenic tubes. We...." He coughed again. His mind was shielded somehow, she could sense that now, but still she persevered. "We.... add the machinery.... linking them.... to.... the.... the...."
She could feel the shields weakening. Her head was beginning to pound. "Linking them to the what?"
"The.... net.... work...." For the first time she noticed the blood trickling from his mouth. "The...." He coughed once more, and then he noticed the blood as well. "You've...." And then the strangest thing happened. He began to laugh. Blood-drenched spittle flew from his mouth as he continued his laughter.
Run! screamed one of the voices. Run!
They all fell silent, every voice in one instant. She felt a sudden terror emanating from them all. Hendricks blinked, and his eyes were suddenly glowing orbs of light. The same light began to pour from his mouth.
His body suddenly exploded, torn apart from within. Talia instinctively dropped backwards and covered her eyes with her arms. A great wind seemed to be blowing through his mind, and she could feel something of Hendricks passing.... beyond, into a great tunnel. There was a light at the end of it, and something there waiting for him.
He looked at her, and his eyes showed his terror. "Help me," he whispered, but she could do nothing.
He chose wrongly, said the voice that had come from his mouth. You all chose wrongly, and soon you will pay for your choice.
The voice faded, the wind died down, and Talia managed to struggle to her feet. She looked at the gobbets of flesh and meat and bone that had once been the body of Dr. Vance Hendricks, and fought the urge to vomit.
All the voices of her people were telling her to flee, to find Al and get help. They were her people, they were telepaths, and they deserved the protection of the Corps. The Corps was mother, the Corps was father, and her children needed her help.
Talia decided to heed that advice.
* * *
Of all the many battles in the four-year period that would later be described as the Shadow War, the second Battle of Beta Durani was one of the bloodiest. The first had been two years before, in 2259, when the forces of Proxima 3's Resistance Government, led by the Babylon and the Morningstar and assisted by the Drakh war fleet, had liberated the colony from its Minbari occupiers. It had been an easy victory for a humanity filled with righteous anger and opposed by an enemy weak, divided, leaderless and distracted.
The second battle was nowhere near as easy. This time, unlike before, the Shadows themselves were actively involved. They had set up a garrison near Beta Durani, ready to defend the world on behalf of their human allies. The Shadowtech capital ship, the Marten, was also present, and the planetary defence systems had been hastily rebuilt and repaired after the liberation of the colony.
Opposing them were the forces of the United Alliance of Kazomi 7, consisting of the first major deployment of the new Dark Star fleet, with support from Drazi, Brakiri and such Narn vessels as had been commandeered by Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar.
In terms of military death toll, the battle was matched only by the Third Line at the Great Machine, and by the bloody exchange that marked the end of the long month known as the Death of Hope, long after the end of the war.
The Dark Star ships had already proved their competence in numerous minor skirmishes, but this was a full-scale deployment of nearly the entire fleet, and while the ships were almost a match for the Shadow vessels, too many of them did not have adequately trained captains. It was widely held that were it not for the near-suicidal courage of Captain John Sheridan and the newly-promoted Captain David Corwin, the battle would have been lost.
However, the jamming technology of the Dark Stars served to paralyse the Shadow vessels, and also to destroy certain vital systems within the Marten. The human ship found its power supplies drained and its weapons systems rendered inoperable, and was easily destroyed. Its captain, Walker Smith, was posthumously awarded the Silver Star for Valour.
The Shadow ships themselves were considerably harder to defeat, but finally they withdrew, heavily outnumbered, but satisfied with the casualties they had inflicted upon their enemies. There would be other battles, and the Dark Star fleet had not been unharmed.
Captain Sheridan's actions on Beta Durani were swift, and meticulously planned. Governor Young and her staff were promptly arrested and detained. A new provisional Government was formed, answerable to the Alliance Council. Martial law was instituted on the colony.
It did not take long for the news to reach President William Morgan Clark on Proxima. His immediate reaction is perhaps rather better imagined than witnessed.
* * *
It is said by some that knowledge is power. Sinoval had always held that to be a quaint and amusing statement. Power was power, and nothing else. Oh, knowledge was a useful tool, and often essential, but without the will to do what others would not, without the determination, without the vision, or the dream, or the inner fire....
Without those things, knowledge was nothing but dusty words in dusty books in long-forgotten rooms.
He stood at the vast archway that led to the Well of Souls. It seemed different from the last time he had been here, although he could not place the difference. It was merely that his perceptions of it seemed.... askew somehow. Whereas before he had seen stone and mortar, now he saw a million sparkling lights, and he could hear the voices within. He could close his eyes and pick out the individual souls that had been joined so long ago into one form. He could recognise members of long-dead races, the ancestors of those who now walked among the stars.