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

by Gareth D. Williams

  Delenn stood on the bridge of the Drazi warship that had been given the honour of carrying her, and looked at it silently. Many had said she should not be here, but she had remained firm. There was too little time to launch a full evacuation of the planet, and she would not leave while others stayed.

  Shadow ships swarmed around it, their cries piercing in the night. The cloud blocked out the stars, leaving an empty void in space.

  One of the Drazi said something, and another chuckled, an unusual sound to come from a Drazi.

  Delenn mentally translated it.

  "At least we are fighting in the shade."

  The fleet swept forward.

  * * *

  G'Kael had learned patience, he had learned endurance, and he had learned composure. He had learned many things, from many teachers. The two most important teachers had been Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar and the Centauri.

  Sometimes their lessons were hard to remember.

  "How long can it take?" he cried. "We cannot rely on communications staying open much longer."

  Na'Toth let out a wry chuckle. "There is nothing that takes as long as waiting for a politician to reach a decision."

  G'Kael muttered something angrily, and then tried to re–establish his composure. Na'Toth should know. She had been a member of the Kha'Ri until recently. "We don't have time," he snapped again.

  "You did not have to stay here," Na'Toth pointed out. "You could have left."

  "No, I couldn't. There's.... something about this world. It's special somehow. I'm not going to run and hide while it gets destroyed. I've done too much running and hiding. Besides.... I want to spit on that Vorlon's encounter suit and prove to it that we were right." He paused, and then looked at her. "Why did you stay?"

  "Did I have anywhere else to go?

  He shrugged. "Well said." The communications screen lit up, and he turned to it. The picture was crackling. "About time," he said. "We need military aid out here, and quick. As much as we can spare." There was no reply. "Can you hear me? We need...."

  ".... can't.... sound.... blocking.... Kha'Ri in.... closed session.... cannot talk to.... can you hear...?"

  "No!" he shouted. "Listen to me. Send help now!"

  ".... must.... repeat.... signal...."

  The screen went blank.

  "Too late," G'Kael sighed. He looked up, through the stone that made this building, past roof and clouds and sky, into the heavens. He imagined all the stars there. He imagined them all going out as a cloud swept over the planet. "I think we're on our own now."

  "No," Na'Toth said. "We always were."

  * * *

  Darkness washed over Delenn, a great and terrible darkness, as the cloud engulfed her ship.

  The Stra'Kath had tried to fight it, but there was little to fight. The Shadow ships that had shimmered into the heavens with the black cloud had merely taken up position by the jump gate, preventing any flight. The Alliance ships had surged at the cloud, only to be torn apart by missiles that burst from inside it. The vast spears tore ships apart, destroying them utterly.

  And then the cloud had engulfed the Stra'Kath, and there was only darkness.

  And cold. It was so very cold.

  "Can we get through to the other ships?" she asked, knowing the answer before she even asked the question.

  "No. All communications are down."

  "What can we sense?"

  "Nothing."

  "We will not die here," she whispered. Lyta, can you hear me? We need help. Kazomi Seven needs help.

  There was nothing.

  John, Lorien. Sinoval. Anyone. We cannot fight this thing. Without the Dark Stars we don't stand a chance. It can destroy us in a heartbeat.

  She stopped, the sound of a beating heart echoing in her ears. This thing could destroy them all. It was a weapon capable of destroying whole planets. There were no Dark Stars to oppose it.

  Why were they still alive?

  Delenn was trying to ponder this when a curtain fell across her mind, and she slumped senseless to the floor.

  * * *

  Vejar closed his eyes and reached out to the darkness amidst the stars. He could feel it, the malevolent sentience that burned within the Fist of Darkness. The Shadows were every bit as adept as the Vorlons at using organic technology, at corrupting sentient life for their own ends.

  And speaking of corruption of sentient life....

  Something was coming this way. Souls screaming in prisons of light. With them came the residue of pain and terror and wrongness.

  Dark Stars. Aptly named. There were few stars in any galaxy darker than they were.

  He paused, and probed a little further. Something was strange. One of them was.... different. The bonds were looser. The bonds had been intentionally loosened. The telepath had more freedom. Not enough, but more. She even had a name. She even had someone to talk to.

  Strange. Very strange. Galen would be able to exploit that. Galen would involve himself in this, and do what he could to save Kazomi 7. Galen would generally make a point of interfering.

  "Damn you, Galen," Vejar whispered. "Look at what you've done to me."

  He reached out, and made contact.

  * * *

  There was darkness. She was alone, standing in nothing, with ever nothing and only nothing.

  "Welcome," said a familiar voice, and she started. Lyta walked out of the darkness to meet her. The voice was Lyta's, but something.... was wrong.

  "Who are you?" Delenn asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

  "I'd have thought you would have learned how dangerous that question was by now," Lyta said jovially. "I'm no one. I'm.... an idea. A concept. I represent one thought amidst many.

  "I'm certainly not Lyta Alexander.

  "Nor am I Arthur Welles." The voice changed, as did Lyta, and suddenly Mr. Welles was there. He was sitting down, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers steepled up before his face.

  "Nor am I Marcus Cole." Again the voice changed, and this time Marcus was before her. There was a terrible wound in his chest, ribs caved in, blood staining the front of his tunic. He did not seem to notice the messy and bloody pulp that was his heart.

  "No, I'm.... an idea." The voice changed again, and Delenn straightened. She was looking at herself. An exact, flawless, mirror image of herself.

  "What do you want?" she asked of herself. That was a question she was not afraid of. That was a question she knew the answer to.

  "Ah," the identical Delenn smiled at her, a smile that she would never display, half–mocking and filled with the implication that she knew something no one else did. "That's better. I want to talk to you. To be precise, I want to warn you. Some of us have sent a message to someone else, but he hasn't received it yet.... and that wasn't really the message we wanted sent, if you understand me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "What, does that surprise you?" Sinoval stood before her, his dark eyes staring directly into hers, his terrible, twisted pike raised in his hands. She did not take a single step back. In contrast to the real Sinoval, there was nothing to fear here. "That there might be factions amongst us? Why should there not be? The Minbari are factionalised, the humans, the Narns, don't even ask about the Centauri. Even the Vorlons were divided on some issues. We are chaos personified.... you honestly thought we all had the same goal, the same ambition, the same purpose?"

  "You sought to destroy us all. Do your motives really matter?"

  "Touch?." President Clark smiled. "But yes, they do. And we never sought to destroy you all. That would not suit our purpose."

  "What is your purpose then? There was a reason for this, I am sure. Tell me! Teach me! Maybe this can all still be avoided. Maybe there can be something good from all this."

  "No." Lorien's face bore an expression of infinite sadness. "It's too late for that. Too late by far. We are old. Very old. I remember my first footsteps in the heavens. I looked at all those stars, shining in the black sky, and I remember crying out
in pleasure until tears poured down my face."

  Vizhak paused. "Not actual tears, you understand. We cannot cry."

  "All races can cry," Delenn said softly. "In one form or another."

  "A beautiful concept," said G'Kar, smiling. "And true, to an extent. Anyway, I saw the stars, and I remember thinking of all the millions of lives that lay out there, across the galaxy, and even beyond the rim. All those lives, all those races we could nurture and help. We could strengthen them, test them, pull them up to their destinies. Few races are as long–lived as we are, and every year we waited, countless billions died.... died before seeing the heavens. Did we really have time to wait?"

  "No," Londo said. "There was no time for patience. The strong would see the stars, and in their quest to touch them, the weak would rise alongside. Once something has been done by one man, it becomes so very much easier, doesn't it?"

  Sonovar snarled. "But for some of us, there was only revenge. We had been defeated so many times before. Always defeated by the Vorlons, by Valen.... There was nothing left for us. The younger races had rejected us so many times.... why should they benefit from our teachings? Why should we help them to the stars? Burn them all! Let the strong fight for every inch of the journey!"

  Neroon looked down, his face full of sorrow. "Isn't that always the way, Delenn? Hatred wins out over love always. Some of us did love you. Loved all of you. We only wanted to show you the stars."

  "Then stop this!" she cried. "The war can end now! We can all work together. All of us! You can still show us the stars."

  "No," whispered a voice, and she stumbled back. It was John. He looked at her, and his eyes shone with the love she remembered seeing there before. His voice trembled. "It's too late for all that. There are few of us left now. The hatred has ruled us all, and all we can see is our revenge. We have lost, we know that, and this will be the final defeat. There is nothing left, there are no more chances after this.

  "We have lost, and so we will leave behind a galaxy of ash and ruin to make it wish we had won."

  "It needn't be this way," she whispered.

  "What else is there?" John asked. "I only wanted to let you know.... to remember us. We have done so much evil, but some of us have done good as well. Please.... if you can remember us at all.... remember the good and the bad."

  "I will never forget you," she said, unsure to whom she was talking. The Shadow.... or the memory of the John she had once loved?

  "Oh, one last thing." John was gone, but the voice came from everywhere. "The others of us have sent another message.... one based on revenge. We have left behind a weapon to strike down our greatest enemies. A terrible weapon. The message has not been received yet. If it is.... make sure he knows what you now know as well. We have poisoned the past and the present. Do not let us destroy the future as well."

  "Who was this message to?" Delenn whispered, a sinking feeling in her heart.

  "I think you know that," came the last faint echoes before the voice was gone, and the light returned.

  * * *

  They bent over her body, looking for some sign of life, but there was nothing.

  "She is dead," one of them whispered.

  "Yes," another agreed. "But she has been dead before. She will die and live and die and live.... until all is done, until Droshalla welcomes her home."

  Delenn's eyes flickered, and opened. "Help is coming," she whispered.

  At that moment, jump points opened and blazing sparks of light screamed into view.

  * * *

  Corwin took in everything in an instant. He could see the dark cloud that had consumed so many of the Alliance ships. He could see it moving slowly, inexorably towards the planet itself. He could see Shadow warships at the jump gate, and he could see them moving forward to meet these gatecrashers, those who had dared to arrive without an invitation.

  Corwin saw all these things with eyes that were not his, sensed them all with senses that were not his.

  "Carolyn, are you there?"

  I am here. Someone is trying to reach us, to talk to us.

  "Who?"

  Power. He is power.

  "Can you help us? Can the rest of you help us?"

  We will fight. What else are we here for? But.... will the fighting ever be over?

  "I hope so. Believe me, I hope so."

  David Corwin.

  The voice came from nowhere, from everywhere. It subsumed Carolyn's voice and spoke with a power and authority Corwin had rarely heard before.

  "Who are you?" he asked. None of his crew reacted to him talking to no one. Peculiar events were commonplace on this ship.

  A friend. Not a friend of yours, but just a friend in general. I can help you destroy that thing.

  "Whoever you are, help me do that and you can be my friend for life. What do we do?"

  Enter it. A warning. This will not be easy.

  "Nothing worthwhile ever is."

  * * *

  Why am I still here?

  Ambassador Lethke zum Bartrando looked up at the skies. He could see the cloud falling over the planet, a dark cloud that blotted out the suns.

  Why am I still here?

  He could have fled. Hasty evacuations had been organised. Some of the Ambassadors had chosen to leave, but none of those who had been here from the start. Vizhak and Taan Churok had gone to their ships. G'Kael had done likewise. Delenn was with the fleet.

  Lethke was on the surface, waiting for the end.

  Why am I still here?

  The answer was simple.

  Because I believe.

  He continued to wait.

  * * *

  Delenn jumped to her feet. She could feel the Dark Stars coming. She could feel the intelligence within the cloud sense this, and reach out. She could feel the hatred, the dark and terrible rejection of all that the younger races were.

  We tried to show you the stars, and you rejected us. We tried to give you heaven, and you cast us down. Then, if you will not see heaven, we will show you hell.

  "It doesn't have to be this way!" she screamed. There was no answer.

  * * *

  It was cold, and dark, and he was alone.

  No, he was not alone. Carolyn was with him. In some strange way he could not explain, so was Lyta.

  And this strange man, who spoke to him from nowhere. He was here as well.

  "Trust me, all of you," Corwin told his crew as the Agamemnon swept into the heart of the cloud. "I know what I'm doing. I hope."

  Outside the cloud, Daro and Kulomani were fighting off the Shadow warships, adopting defensive positions, buying time.

  "I hope you know what you're doing," Corwin said.

  Of course I do. The Fist of Darkness is alive. There is intelligence. There is power and there is hatred. As with any living thing, find the brain and destroy it. Then the cloud will die.

  "Fine, so where's the brain?"

  There.

  Corwin looked, and moved forward. Something burst through the darkness, a spear of rock and poison and anger. It barely missed the Agamemnon, so close, but silent in space.

  "Carolyn, can you hear me?"

  Pain, pain. It hurts!

  "Carolyn, we need your help. All of us do."

  Hurts!

  "Carolyn, billions of people drown in blood if we fail. We will not fail. We need your help."

  What.... what must I do?

  "Protect us. Take us forward, and keep us safe. We'll do the rest."

  "Captain!" cried a voice, and Corwin turned. He did not need to hear the tech's warning to realise that another spear had been launched. This one would not miss.

  "Carolyn!" Corwin cried.

  A shield of light rose up around the ship, and the spear struck it directly. The whole ship rocked, and Corwin stumbled. They had been hit, but they were still alive.

  "Carolyn," he whispered.

  I'm still here. Do what you must.

  Corwin smiled. "Take us forward."

  * * * />
  Vejar hummed as the smoke moved around him. He could feel it, feel the cloud rushing around him, feel the presence within it, feel the light and the pain that was Carolyn Sanderson, and a million like her.

  "There you are," he whispered, seeing with eyes that were not his own. "I can feel you. I am not afraid."

  He prepared an incantation.

  * * *

  Corwin leapt back as a glowing symbol appeared in the air before his eyes. "What the...."

  Have no fear, Captain. Just a little something to protect you all, and to help defeat the Fist of Darkness. You will be able to strike it now.

  "About time. All batteries.... fire!"

  * * *

  "Please," Delenn said. "Where are you? There's still time. It doesn't have to be this way!"

  No, there is nothing else.

  "Stop this! There can be peace."

  No peace. No forgiveness. We will die, and that will be all.

  There was a burst of light, a light that struck everyone in the ship. Delenn felt it burning her eyes, burning into the back of her mind. She fell, again.

  * * *

  Vejar smiled, and then he frowned. "Damn you, Galen," he whispered. "We will both pay for this in time."

  * * *

  There was the faint echo of a scream, one that touched them all. Delenn found tears in her eyes.

  The Fist of Darkness died.

  * * *

  Before, there had been only revenge and hatred. Now, there was only the knowledge that they did what they must do. The Shadows knew their triumph, their unholy Fist of Darkness, had been destroyed, and there was nothing left for them but death.

  The warships moved forward, not caring when jump points opened up behind them, and the Dark Stars swept forward.

  The Shadows went to their deaths.

  * * *

  We tried to show you heaven. Now you will all see hell.

  * * *