Except that now he had a Minbari on this very bridge.
Corwin had never been sure of what to make of Satai Delenn. He hadn’t had very many dealings with her, and he wanted it kept that way. He had heard snippets from her interrogation by Security Officer Welles, and he knew that she had played a large part in the beginning of the war. On the other hand, the Captain seemed to trust her – he’d even ended her interrogation and given her quarters on the ship, something which had earned him a very large shouting at by the Resistance Government. Corwin wasn’t sure why the Captain would choose to do that for a Minbari, but the Captain was the captain after all, and he must have had his reasons. So, he abided her presence, but he did not have to like it.
“It was the Trigati,” Satai Delenn was saying. “You have to let me talk to them.”
Corwin wasn’t listening. He knew the procedure for combatting Minbari vessels almost by heart. You couldn’t lock on to them with missile fire, so you had to use dispersion fire techniques, and hope to find the right frequency and direction. You also send out the Starfuries, both to engage the Minbari flyers, and to continue attacking the big cruiser with more dispersion fire. When you did enough damage to get a heat lock on the ship, you pulled back the Starfuries as a screen, and released the heat sensitive fusion bomb – sold at exorbitant prices by the Narns – and let it make its way to the Minbari. Sometimes it didn’t work, but often enough it did, especially with the Captain’s luck and skill guiding it.
Corwin was not the Captain, and he had neither the Captain’s luck nor his skill, but he did have persistence. The Captain was on that planet below, and he had orders from the Resistance Government to claim it. Corwin would rather space himself than be the cause of the Captain’s failure.
Assuming he had a choice, of course.
* * * * * * *
Captain Sheridan meanwhile was having problems of his own…
The ground was shaking beneath his feet. He wasn’t sure of the specifics, but both Zathras and his almost identical companion had stated that as Varn died, the Machine died with him. It needed a controller to keep the Machine and the planet – if there was a difference between the two – in a stable condition. With Varn’s obvious ill health, the planet was in anything but stable condition and the Machine was automatically reacting to anything it perceived as a threat.
Such as the two ships currently in orbit. Sheridan had heard a Minbari message to the effect that a missile had been fired at their ship. They assumed it was from the Babylon, whereas it was really from the Machine. The Minbari either didn’t know this, or didn’t care. Under other circumstances he might have been able to intervene, but he currently had his hands full.
The Minbari captain lunged at him with the pike, swinging it at his head. He managed to duck and leap backwards, having to avoid both the pike and the falling rocks and shaking ground.
Sheridan had fought hand to hand against Minbari a number of times. The last such occasion had left him with a massive headache and a one-way journey to Minbar in chains. He’d learned a bit since that occasion.
Rule 1. Minbari were faster than he was, much faster. They were also stronger, and could wield those bloody heavy pikes like they were made out of air. Stay out the way where possible.
Rule 2. If you could blast them from a distance, do so. It wasn’t fair, but nothing about this war was fair.
He was doing his hardest to obey Rule 1, and trying to follow Rule 2, but he spent so much time trying to regain his balance that he had little time to draw and aim his PPG, and he knew he would only have one chance to use it.
“G’Kar!” he cried out. “Give me a hand here, for God’s sake!”
He wasn’t certain if the Narn heard him or not. If G’Kar did hear, he made no sign, and left Sheridan to the fight alone.
* * * * * * *
Lyta Alexander had not slept well in months. Of course, a full, dreamless night’s sleep was the prerogative of someone who hadn’t lost everything they’d ever had with Earth, but this was different. These weren’t nightmares about Earth burning, or people dying, or the Minbari. These were… these were strange dreams. Very strange dreams.
It was just a voice. A singing symphony that was many voices rolled into one. A voice that asked just one question over and over again.
Who are you?
It sang in her dreams, it sounded in her thoughts. Sometimes she heard it when she was awake, or working. She had had to work less with commercial Narn traders because she kept hearing the voice whenever she scanned anyone’s mind. There had been little official work to keep her busy ever since Captain Sheridan had taken away Satai Delenn – and Lyta was glad. Scanning Delenn had been the most brutal and traumatic experience she had ever suffered.
All of this left her alone, alone with the voice that sang and asked a question she couldn’t answer. And it was when she was alone that she heard it louder.
Was that why she had taken to pursuing Marcus? She wasn’t sure if he was interested in her the way she was interested in him. (God, those eyes! They thought to bring her comfort in her dream.) But she chased him anyway, because she couldn’t bear to be alone. She pressed herself to him, moving their relationship at a pace she knew he wasn’t comfortable with, but that she continued anyway. When he was here, she spent every moment she could with him, hoping to drown out the voice with his nearness. She knew that he had duties as Captain Sheridan’s bodyguard, but she needed to be with him anyway.
When he was not here, she drank, hoping to push herself so far that she did not hear the voice. Narn liquor was probably the easiest thing to find on Proxima. There were many who sought to lose themselves and their memories in drink. Lyta had few friends to be concerned about her, but Marcus didn’t like her drinking. He had drunk himself once, and he was clearly afraid of her becoming what he had been. She was afraid too, but she never drank around him. It hurt him, and besides, his presence was enough to drown out the voice.
But now Marcus was gone, left Proxima with Captain Sheridan on some mission a few days ago. He was in danger now. She could feel it. She didn’t know exactly what, but she could feel his danger. She had been inside his mind so often – usually without his knowledge or permission – that her thoughts had become aligned to his. She could feel his heart beating faster, and thoughts of terror rising. She wanted to be with him… she wanted…
But not where Sheridan was. She had scanned him once, out of curiosity, and she had been terrified by the sheer anger within him. Sheridan was, inside, already dead. His body just hadn’t noticed yet. She was afraid that Sheridan’s death wish would lead him into a situation from which he would not return, and that Marcus would go, willingly, with him.
Who are you?
I don’t know! she screamed in reply. Leave me alone! Who are you? What do you want?
Pain again. She should have remembered. Never ask that question. Never.
I’m sorry, she breathed. I’m sorry… I don’t understand.
Understanding is a three edged sword. Wake!
What?
They are here. Wake!
Screaming, she came awake, although that gave her no succour from the voice. She could feel something, something outside, not far away. It was moving and watching her. Her heart began to beat faster. She heard a buzzing, crackling sound.
The owner of the voice in her mind was angry.
Lyta felt her mouth open, but the words that came forth were not from her voice. Go! They are not for you! Leave this place! No!
The crackling faded and she slumped back on the bed, too tired, too exhausted, too afraid even to think. Her whole body was covered with sweat, and every muscle ached.
Lyta Alexander got no more sleep that night, but that did not mean she did not dream.
* * * * * * *
“Lyta?”
Marcus Cole spoke her name slowly, reverently. He didn’t understand why. Lyta was back on Proxima, surely. She was safe. She couldn’t be in a Starfury staring at a huge
Minbari cruiser.
“Are you all right, Marcus?” came a voice over the comm system. It was Lieutenant Neeoma Connally, leader of Starfury Squadron Alpha. “Never been in battle before, eh?”
“Er… no. Not like this.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. That ship’s a lot bigger than we are. Easier to hit, you see.”
“What about their flyers? There’s more of them.”
“Exactly, makes them easier to hit too.”
“Somewhat optimistic, aren’t you? Just like… Katherine.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing. Not important.”
Marcus was supposed to be Captain Sheridan’s bodyguard. He should be where the Captain was. He was not a Starfury pilot. But no, the Captain had gone down to the planet without him, and now Marcus was flying a Starfury he had only had thirty or so hours practice in, up against the pride of the Minbari fleet.
Katherine would have told him he was being too pessimistic, but Katherine was gone, had died in the inferno that had engulfed Vega 7. She was dead, and he had never told her how much he cared. How could he? She had been his brother’s wife. And his brother was dead too.
And now Marcus was staring at the beings he held responsible. In the pit of his mind, he knew that it wasn’t the Minbari who had destroyed the Vega 7 colony. He remembered the black ship rising from beneath the ground, and he remembered the other ship that had come to collect it. But those ships weren’t here, and the Minbari were.
“Fire at will,” came Neeoma’s voice again. “Oh, and stay alive, won’t you?”
It was advice Marcus intended to take, but he doubted anyone would care if he didn’t.
* * * * * * *
G’Kar raised his head and met the eyes of the Minbari who knelt opposite him over Varn’s dying body. The Minbari – Draal – met his eyes and nodded slowly. Whichever one the Machine deemed fit would inherit it. There was no room for matters of race here. Narn. Minbari. Warrior. Teacher. None of it mattered.
The Machine was all.
“The… Machine… will tell you everything… you need,” Varn rasped. “Much of it… instinctive… but it will take… time… to learn. You must be… strong… be… ready… be… ah.”
“Hurry!” Zathras said. “Machine is failing and Varn is dying. Yes, not good.”
“No no,” said Mathras. “Varn is dying and Machine is failing. You always get wrong. One of you must replace Varn, yes. Stabilise the Machine, and…”
There was a PPG blast and Mathras started. He raised his head, and G’Kar knew he could see Sheridan and Kalain still fighting.
“No no!” Mathras was saying. “Must not fight! Not here! Not now! This not place for fightings, no!”
“Not work,” Zathras replied. “Many years of hate not washed out by your words. Enter the Machine, stabilise the planet, and then stop them fighting.”
G’Kar looked at Draal. The old Minbari understood. He felt a calling towards the Machine. He felt in his heart that he was right. G’Kar nodded and then bowed his head. Draal rose to his feet, and staggered forward. His movements were slow, and the ground was shaking more and more all the time. Zathras headed off after Draal, pointing out bits of the Machine to him, while G’Kar and Mathras remained beside the dying Varn.
G’Kar held no regrets. This was to be a fortress of light. There were few enough places like that. Besides, he was needed back in G’Khorazhar, with his agents, his Rangers. The Enemy had to be fought.
He looked up at Draal settled next to the socket which had held Varn. At Zathras’ directions, Draal was about to step into the Machine…
There was a noise and a light and a motion all in one as a PPG blast hit Draal squarely in his back. The Minbari slumped forward. Zathras tried to catch him, but G’Kar could see that it was pointless. Draal was either dead, or dying.
The whole planet shook, as if mourning one who would have been its custodian.
* * * * * * *
It had taken Susan Ivanova three corridors and two rests before she stopped shaking. She knew that her fear was pointless, and she knew that she had a task to perform, but she could only remember the voice that had spoken to her, a voice that knew exactly what she was, and who she represented. Even her allies seemed affected by that voice, leaving her alone for the first time in years, and leaving her afraid.
Why was she even here? Her mission tonight didn’t even involve Lyta. Was this some perverse self-punishment, or a chance for her to overcome her greatest fear?
If it was, it didn’t work. She was even more afraid now than she had been before.
“Yes, I know,” she whispered. “I know.” Her allies were speaking to her. They were angry. She had jeopardised their secret. There was an enemy here.
“I’ll deal with her,” she said. “Please. Trust me.”
And now back to the true purpose of the night. Ivanova knew where she had to go, and her little detour to watch Miss Alexander had not cost her much time. Her allies had been very generous with their cloaking technology, and so none of the security guards had seen her as she had crept past them. As far as anyone was concerned, she was asleep in her room.
Vice President Morgan Clark certainly thought so. He was very surprised when she woke him.
“Lights,” he muttered. She shed her cloaking equipment and stood there at the edge of his bed watching as the fog of sleep was replaced by growing comprehension in his eyes. He was alone. His wife had been killed on Mars, and he had not remarried.
“Young lady, what are you doing here?” he asked. “I’m…”
Young lady? She wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or patronised.
“You’re very valuable to my friends, Vice President,” she said. “You’re ambitious and you’re immoral. We like qualities like that. You can go far, and you will. With our help.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“What do you want, Vice President? What do you want?”
“What do you mean? How did you get past the guards?”
“That’s my concern. Well? Oh, there’s no need to answer. I know what you want. You want power. You want humanity back to its rightful place. You want to be the architect of humanity’s restoration. We admire desires like that. You can be a great help to us, Vice President, and as a reward, I’m going to let you see my friends.”
She could see his eyes widen as the two Shadows by her side came into view. He was gasping, unable to find anything to say…
“And we have a little gift for you.” Susan opened her hands.
The Keeper’s eye opened.
* * * * * * *
Sheridan wasn’t sure what had happened. He had managed to draw his weapon at last, and had been accurate enough to keep Kalain at a distance. The ground was unstable, and he hadn’t yet hit his opponent.
Then the ground had shaken again, and Kalain was the one who had fallen off balance this time. Sheridan had steadied himself, and aimed…
…and the ground shook. He had fallen to the side as he fired. His shot had missed Kalain easily, and torn into Draal.
Kalain had noticed this and simply looked at Draal for a minute. Sheridan was too stunned to fire.
And then Kalain turned his attention back to Sheridan.
He charged.
* * * * * * *
Marcus had ceased thinking by this stage. His sole concern was the ship that loomed up before him, huge and beautiful and deadly all at the same time. His sole concern was avoiding its fire, and hitting it, no matter how weakly. At least he could do something.
But no. He couldn’t even do that.
“Marcus! Look out!” screamed Neeoma’s voice.
He started, and a Minbari flyer fell directly into his view. It fired, and tore into his engines. He started and tried to respond, but all his shots were inaccurate, or weak, or ineffectual.
“Eject!” Neeoma cried. “Marcus, eject!”
Back on Proxima 3, Lyta Alexander screamed his name.
* * * * * * *
G’Kar looked at Draal’s body, and then at Varn. “Go…” the dying alien whispered. “Go…”
“You heard,” said Mathras. “Go to Machine. Take Machine. Is yours now. Yours! Go!”
G’Kar understood. Then this was to be his destiny. He rose, and ran towards the Heart of the Machine. The whole planet was unstable. It needed a guardian. It needed him.
Zathras showed him how to fix himself into the heart. G’Kar whispered a prayer to G’Quan as he did so…
And the Machine welcomed him.
* * * * * * *
The first Sheridan knew of it was when the planet stopped shaking. The second was when he was thrown to the ground by a force he didn’t see. His PPG was wrenched from him. He groaned as he hit the ground, and he looked up. Kalain was similarly felled, his own weapon far away. And then Sheridan turned to the Heart of the Machine.
“There will be no fighting here,” G’Kar said. “I have stopped you, and I have stopped your ships. This place is to be a sanctuary from the Darkness that is coming. There is to be no violence here. This is a place of Light.
“Each of you has the potential to be a soldier of Light. When you realise this, return here, and swear yourselves to the Army of Light. For now, go, and do not return until you are ready.”
Sheridan and Kalain were about to protest, when G’Kar cut them off. “Go! Or I will destroy your ships, and you.”
Kalain looked at Sheridan. “I will see you dead, Starkiller.”
“Tell Sinoval I’m waiting for another meeting. Make an appointment with him, won’t you?”
Kalain snarled and left, retrieving his weapon as he did so.
Sheridan picked up his own PPG, but instead of making his way back to the shuttle, he went to Draal’s body, and closed the Minbari’s eyes slowly.
“Minbari do not do that to their dead,” G’Kar said.
“I know, but Kalain seemed to have forgotten him.”
“He will be cremated here. He was nearly a part of this Machine, after all. His own people seem to have forsaken him, but we will not.”
“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
The Other Half of my Soul addm-1 Page 17