Then a jumble of static and sound squawked from the link, and Ross boomed,
"Captain, I'm firing." "Brace for impact," John yelled.
The cruiser was nearly on top of them. When those explosives went, they could take out the Agamemnon. The fore starboard cannon fired, the laser a line of brilliance against the gunmetal-gray hull of the cruiser, momentarily connecting the two ships. John didn't know if the terrorists set off the explosives or the laser did. He saw two brilliant flares of light in succession, one in the belly of the cruiser, the second, blinding bright, in the fighter bay in the nose. He threw a hand over his eyes. Then, through the diminishing light, he saw the cruiser fly apart, and a huge fragment of hull from the nose flew straight at them. The Agamemnon lurched, and John felt the familiar falling sensation as the gravity lessened. A series of explosions ran through the ship like a shudder. John was thrown to the floor. He climbed to his hands and knees. Still the gravity seemed uncertain, his weight varying by the moment.
"Damage report!" he yelled.
Ving had climbed to his feet and was clutching the console.
"Several major hull breaches . . . sections of decks one through three. Fore starboard cannon destroyed."
John climbed to his feet next to Ving.
"Casualties?"
Ving studied the data he was receiving.
"Preliminary readings show the hull breaches limited to the evacuated areas."
They stood quiet for a few moments, waiting for further concussions. The gravity stabilized at its normal level. The crew of the command deck all watched John, their expressions gradually changing from fear to relief. Reports began coming in from the different sections to Ving. John hit his link.
"Lieutenant Ross."
"Ross here."
"What's your status, Lieutenant?"
"Fore starboard cannon destroyed, Captain. Other three cannons still operational. Lieutenant Spano has-subdued Commander Corchoran. Minor injuries to them both. Security arrived soon after."
John nodded.
"Good shooting, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, sir," Ross boomed.
As soon as they had a clearer picture of the condition of the ship and the crew, and they were sure they had all systems under control, John put through a call from the command deck to General Lochschmanan.
"The Homeguard cruiser has been destroyed, General."
"You had us worried, Captain. We'd been expecting to hear from you much sooner."
"We had some difficulties, sir."
As he explained what had happened, John realized he'd never been prouder of a crew. Despite all the difficulties and divisions they'd begun with, they'd managed to come together into a crack operating team.
"The entire crew performed admirably, General. I'd like to recommend Lieutenants Ross and Spano for commendations. "
"You write them, I'll sign them," the general said.
"It sounds like you need to layover for some repairs."
"Yes, sir."
"How would the Agamemnon like to be a part of the honor guard of ships at the dedication of Babylon 5? I believe you could make your repairs there and receive assistance in the treatment of your injured. The presence of the Agamemnon would serve as a dramatic sign to all interested parties of the strength of our commitment to Babylon 5."
The crew of the command deck looked excitedly at John.
"That would be an honor, sir."
"One well deserved," Lochschmanan said.
"Congratulations on a job well done, Captain."
John leaned back in his chair and smiled.
"Thank you, sir."
* * *
"I've come to bring you their greetings."
Churlstein stood, snowman white, against the darkness of the cave behind him. She'd never quite been conscious of the quality of desperate eagerness that hung around him until now, when it was gone. His arms hung at his sides, no longer working as if to draw out a specific response from someone. His shoulders were back, not hunched forward-in fact, with his head tilted up, he seemed to be striking a rather self-consciously noble pose. Behind the brownish reflection off the faceplate of his EVA helmet, his face was smooth, assured, not wrinkled up in frustration. Anna stood, and with her Donne, one hand still pressing against the side of her helmet, the other holding the gun on Churlstein. Morden remained where he was, and she wondered if he had given up, or if he simply could no longer move.
"Whose greetings?" Anna asked.
"The natives of this planet. The ones you've been trying to meet. They can't communicate in our language, so they sent me as an intermediary. Their name is too long to pronounce-ten thousand letters long, in fact, Dr. Morden. They are an ancient, noble race as far advanced from us as we are from the tree shrew. Their technology, as you well know Dr. Sheridan, is thousands of years ahead of ours. And they're willing to share it with us. Imagine limitless energy, biomechanical ships, an end to poverty-and us, the archaeologists to make the biggest discovery of all time. They've been in hibernation for almost a thousand years and are just now waking up. We woke them up, in fact. Their hibernation has made them very vulnerable; they need time to regain their strength before other races learn of their existence, other races who might covet their technology. They will teach us their secrets, if in turn we keep their secret. They want to work with us, learn from us about what's gone on for the last thousand years."
"And what about them?" Anna said, pointing down at the crew.
"They didn't understand. They wouldn't have kept the secret, so they're being put asleep until it's safe to let them go."
"Churlstein, you can't-"
"What did they promise you?" Morden asked, his smooth voice gone raw.
"Whatever I want," Churlstein said.
"'All that is desired.' And they'll give the same to you. You have only two choices: to serve willingly, and be rewarded with your greatest desires, or to serve unwillingly, like them."
He inclined his head toward the crew below. Morden touched her leg, pointed a finger down to the left. One of the bluish-gray aliens was making his way along the parapet toward them. Anna checked the other direction and found another approaching from there.
"Are these the ones you serve?" Anna asked.
"Why don't they talk to us?"
"Them?" Churlstein brayed out a laugh.
"They're servants."
Anna sensed an opening and pressed it. This had been her original plan: to confront the creature in the nodule. It had hidden itself, had used distractions, deceptions, representatives. If only she could get through to it, perhaps there would be a way out.
"Then where are they? Don't they talk to you?"
"They're talking to me right now. They're right here. They're all around you."
The cave walls behind Churlstein, dark in shadow, began, in vertical bands, to shift. The cave was no longer empty of light; it was filled with darkness. Anna recognized the solid, structural movement of bodies. They were bodies of darkness, darkness as a positive presence. The darkness gathered, in its shifting, fibrous movement, a shape momentarily suggesting a limb, another a head.
Ghosts of constellations followed her eyes like afterimages. Reality was fraying apart. Through the gaps radiated a furnace of desire, malice cutting straight into her, a hole opening up inside her just as Donne had said, a hole into which she was falling, a hole which needed to be filled. She thought she was screaming, but then she realized it was Donne screaming, jerking back and forth, hands clasped to her helmet. The scream cutting a notch louder, Donne jerked her hands down from her head and brought the PPG to bear.
Churlstein flew back with the first blast, his chest blossoming with a black flower. Donne hit the roof of the passage next, to block out the shifting darkness, and a huge ledge of rock dropped-oddly fast in the higher gravity-and triggered a cascade. Anna ducked down against the parapet and felt Morden press against her back, shielding her. The bluish-gray alien who was reaching out long, meaty fing
ers for him jerked back with another blast. Then a torrent of rock spilled out over the parapet, slammed into them, and Donne's scream stopped. When the cave-in finally subsided, Anna brought her head out from her arms. Her battered arms shook, their movements halting, painful. She was having trouble breathing. Beside her Morden used his good hand to push a heavy rock away. They'd been buried up to shoulder height, the parapet around them filled with rock.
"I can't see Donne," Morden said, breathless also.
"Did she fall over?"
As Anna pushed herself onto her knees, she felt a flash of pain in her hip. She looked over the parapet, saw some. rocks that had fallen around the egg. If any had fallen on top, they had been absorbed. As Donne would have been, if she had fallen onto it. Otherwise everything looked the same.
"I don't see her."
They pulled themselves up, onto the rubble, their movements shaky, weak. On his knees, Morden braced his good hand on his thigh and bent forward, as if he were about to pass out. Anna crawled over the rocks, looking for any sign of Donne. In the gap between two rocks a white sleeve shone through. Anna guessed at the location of the head and began to clear away the rocks. Morden came to help. Donne's face had finally lost its clenched, sullen look. Her jaw hung loose, and there was a softness to her skin that made Anna realize that the woman was not much older than her. Strands of dirty-blond hair had fallen free down over her face, one grazing the small D-shaped scar on her cheek. Donne's helmet hung propped against one shoulder. Her neck had been broken.
"Anna," Morden said.
In the muddy light all around them, the shadows were moving, moving out from the darkness on the far side of the chamber, moving on the walls, moving along the parapet, all moving toward them. The full truth hit her then, the truth she'd been avoiding ever since Morden had said it: there was no escape.
But she wasn't about to accept one of the two choices Churlstein had offered.
"The gun," Anna said.
"Look for the gun."
She could see Morden read the realization on her face, and the intention, and his mouth rose in a small, resigned smile.
"I'm sorry."
They have no interest in the dead. They dug with intensity now, scraping hands and arms raw as they cleared the area around Donne. Anna realized she was earning calluses for a lifetime, if only they had a chance to form. She saw the glint of metal and burrowed down toward it, revealing the top of the isocase with the mice inside.
The shadows were all around them, the air thick with their movement, their presence. All around her the universe rippled and frayed, Morden the one solid presence beside her. The hole opened again inside Anna. The dark well that needed to be filled. Anna followed the edge of the isocase, found the latch, opened it. Inside, the husk with the mouse, a hint of warmth, a slightly fishy smell. She broke open the husk, her hands shaking. The mouse looked nearly identical to the one she had destroyed.
"Morden, the mouse. I think together we might be able to activate it."
It was a desperate, unsubstantiated idea. Her thoughts had not been strong enough to fully activate the mouse. Who knew if two people might combine their strength to bring it to full activation? But if they could, the explosion, which had destroyed the isolab, would be more than sufficient to kill both of them. Morden nodded, and she crawled close to him.
"Hold on to it and focus on it as much as you can."
He had to lift his right hand with his left to position it beside the mouse. Both hands were bloody, as were hers, and she realized he'd finally ruined the smooth skin of his palms. They clasped their hands around the mouse, their fingers intertwining. His were as cold as death.
The top of Anna's faceplate came to rest against Morden's as they both focused down on the mouse, on the object grasped in their four hands. Then the darkness, which had hovered so close, seeped down into her brain and seized it like a claw. The vast, cold well expanded, swallowing her, unbearable emptiness and burning need. She plummeted downward at the speed of screams. But the falling could stop, the well could be filled, light and warmth brought into the shadow within her. John could be beside her twenty-four hours a day, proclaiming his love, listing her virtues, his love providing everything he needed, everything she needed.
Every archaeological theory of hers could be brilliant, and correct, her discoveries could change the world, end suffering, bring her peace, recognition, and fulfillment. She could bring people only happiness, no pain. Or the simplest dream, all the worse because she had believed it would come true, and now knew that it wouldn't: she could live to a ripe old age with John, their love only stronger with the passage of time, comfortable yet still passionate, sitting on a pair of rockers on a porch in Iowa. She felt each of these with the pain of a life lived in an instant and then taken away, the dark presence in her mind shuffling through her dreams, animating them with more vividness than Anna ever could. Any of these could fill the emptiness within her, fill it with a light borne of darkness, a light that would contaminate everything it touched. None of them would. Not if it was her choice.
The emptiness inside her ached for John as she realized she would never see him again. She focused on the mouse, only the mouse, its elastic skin, its grayish blocks of shading, its devotion to the machine. And she searched deeper, for the creature at the heart of the mouse, the one that had once made a warm nest of shavings in the dark, and had now been trapped for countless years in a life that was not life. The shades of gray were shifting in block segments. Anna moved her fingers to the side. Lines of charcoal proceeded down the mouse's back, not as quickly as when Terrence had made contact with the mouse, but faster than when Anna had done it alone. Excited, she closed her eyes and focused more deeply on it. She visualized its elegant, complex skeleton, the heart beating at its center, and what she realized now must be the brain.
She concentrated on it, feeling a sleepy stirring of awareness. Wake up! Wake up! She sensed Morden there, inside the mouse with her, his emotions startlingly intense. His careful control had deceived even her. Most immediate was the fear, which mirrored her own, of the shadows and what they would do. Unlike Anna, he seemed to have little fear of dying; it seemed almost to be desired. Below the fear was a surging tide of pain and exhaustion held back with crumbling barriers. He was ready to collapse. And then at the heart of him she found the excitement at the mental connection to the mouse, at sensing its stirring, at finding Anna there with him. The contact between them was intimate, undeniable. Together they focused on the mouse's brain, urging it to wakefulness.
Anna reminded it of its duty to the machine, telling it the machine needed to be activated, now, the machine needed its service. She felt a surge of heat from it, opened her eyes to see the charcoal moving in a wave, pulsing from head to tail. An image formed in her mind then, an image of a woman and a girl, dark-haired, smiling, sitting on a commercial transport, looking out the window at the jump gate that would take them on an exciting journey. As the transport approached the jump-gate vortex, the mother took her little girl's hand and exchanged smiles with her. The little girl swung her feet. Just as the undulating red of hyperspace seized them, its currents exploded into a cataract, compressing the waves of space before them, propelling the transport ahead into wave upon wave of nonplace and nontime. Space folded in upon space, the particles of the transport burrowing into a wormhole within a wormhole within a wormhole, a crushing darkness, the cold of absolute zero, an energy well from which there was no escape, no life, but consciousness. And pain. Eternal. Their cries tore a hole through Morden, a hole which could not be endured. Anna shrank from it.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he cried.
"End their suffering. Please. I'll do whatever you want. Please."
He was shaking against her, his body racked with sobs. She squeezed his hands, trying to recover the intimacy she had shrunk from. The hole within him was suffocating, terrifying, all-encompassing. How could she tell him to endure it? How had she ever thought she could heal it? Sh
e reached into the maelstrom. How do you know what they're showing you is true? Or that they'll do anything about it? The response came with Morden's careful calm, and she could almost see his fixed smile, the bandage over the abyss. How do I know it isn't, and they won't? I have to do whatever I can. D'Veeh creor chol. She had never heard the words of the dead language pronounced before, so it took her a moment to understand. Love abides no borders.
They were in the wormhole, time crushed to an infinite standstill, a moment, frozen, perpetual, a mother and child dying, compressed beyond recognition, the shock of pain holding them together for this last, and eternal, cry to the one they loved. Every light carries a shadow, the pillars read. And this was Morden's shadow, the one he couldn't escape.
"Free them," Morden said.
"I'll serve you willingly, happily, with all the skills at my command."
The image in her mind changed then, and she saw at last the ship Morden had described, wavering black and spiky against the red currents of hyperspace like a nightmare come to life. The ship shrieked out a beam of energy. The force of it spread in red ripples from its central core, propagating a subtle change through the geography of hyperspace and hyper-time, entering, an echo of an echo of an echo, the invisible nonplace and nontime that held a mother and daughter. And with an undulation like a breath, the wormhole dissolved, the frozen moment passed into the future, faded, died. The cries sighed into stillness. The undulation resonated through the hole at the heart of Morden, the gentle lap of waves filling it with blackness, a lake in the darkness, water of peace and forgetfulness. Morden's hands pulled free of hers. Anna opened her eyes. The pulsing of the mouse slowed, stopped. Morden's back rose, moved away from her. The space between them was immediately filled with shadows. Living darkness surrounded her. Anna would become the mouse, caught in a cage of sinew and bone, hardwired into a machine, no more than a cog or a chip, a lost bit of organic tissue with a faint memory of nuzzling into warm shavings, lost as much to herself as to others, as trapped as Morden's wife and daughter had been.
Babylon 5 07 - The Shadow Within (Cavelos, Jeanne) Page 21