The Other Half of my Soul addm-1

by Gareth D. Williams

  He alone knew the secrets that were supposed to have died with the Corps. He knew of the Lazarus Project, and the Control Programme. He knew the secrets of Bureau 13, and the Star Chamber, and Interplanetary Expeditions.

  There was yet another saying: ‘Knowledge is Power’.

  Bester was not much of a military man. He preferred to operate behind the scenes and let other people’s hands get dirty. Events would force him to change that stance soon enough, but he would be ready when they did. Meanwhile, he was content to sit back, and wait and learn, and amass knowledge. Although military matters were not his forte, he had read the words of Sun Tzu, acknowledged greatest strategist of all time. There was one very valid piece of advice in those words.

  ‘He who knows neither his enemy nor himself will not win in a hundred battles. He who knows himself but not his enemy will only win fifty of those battles. He who knows both his enemy and himself will not lose in a hundred battles.’

  Bester intended never to lose even once, but he also knew that sometimes a loss was merely victory in other clothes.

  He looked up, feeling the emotions of the four people outside his door, and he smiled. Most telepaths needed line of sight to make a scan, and so did he, but he could still pick up the background hum of stray thoughts even through a door, or a wall.

  There was Michael Garibaldi, as loyal and as fearless as ever. Bester wondered how his wife Lianna was doing. There should only be a few months of her pregnancy left by now.

  There was Commander David Corwin, loyal and… Bester sighed. That was annoying. He was practising those strange techniques to block telepathic scans. They seemed Minbari in nature, and that was not very surprising, really. Another telepath might be confused, but to Bester it was as effective as a paper wall would be against a battering ram. Still, it was annoying.

  Then there was Satai Delenn. Her own mental walls were much weaker, which was surprising. He could sense a residual undercurrent of pain. Yes, he’d been expecting that. The sooner he had details of the exact nature of her change, the better.

  And then there was Captain John Sheridan, the Starkiller.

  “Door,” he said, and it opened. Garibaldi was the first in, of course, but behind him was…

  “Captain Sheridan,” Bester said. “It is good to see you again. I’ve been… looking forward to another meeting for quite some time now.”

  * * * * * * *

  “Where… is… she?”

  Susan Ivanova sighed, and sat back. Marcus had grown very repetitive lately. It was annoying.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it wasn’t polite to talk about another woman when you’re with someone?”

  He was angry, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Oh, he could have attacked her, but that wouldn’t have done either of them any good. It wouldn’t have got him any nearer to finding his beloved telepath, and she would have hated to have damaged him at all.

  Besides, he wouldn’t attack her. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt a woman. In some ways Marcus was like a knight of old – pure, noble, kind, virtuous…

  Susan poured herself a drink of some revolting Narn liquor and drained it in one. She knew better than to offer Marcus any. She could tell from the look in his eyes of the way he had come to depend on alcohol. It had taken a great deal to shake him free.

  Susan hated Narn drinks, but they were the only things around and she needed something. She’d never told this to anyone before. She’d tried to avoid admitting it to herself, but she had to try… Marcus represented everything she’d ever let herself hope for, and she wasn’t going to lose him to Psi Corps the way she had everything else.

  “Did you ever see many telepaths on your home colony?” she asked. “Any Psi Corps representatives? Anything like that?”

  “Where is Lyta? Where is Captain Sheridan? Where…?”

  “Marcus. Trust me. Please? I’ll tell you everything you need to know, but first just… please listen to me.” This was going to get harder and harder. She swallowed harshly and turned away, anything rather than look at him while she was saying this. She didn’t want him to see her this scared.

  The Shadows were not happy at her wasting time like this. She had had quite an argument convincing them of the point of this. It could be possible to bring him over to their side voluntarily. Without having to use a Keeper, without mind control, or being placed in a ship. And if they could manage this with him, then surely they could manage it with anyone.

  They didn’t quite believe her, and they certainly knew about her ulterior motives, but they didn’t seem to mind. She wondered what they thought about, what they would die for, if they even knew the meaning of the word love. She wondered what they wanted.

  “Marcus?”

  “I… yes. A few commercial telepaths, that’s all. We had a Psi Cop visit once, when I was little. We never paid them much attention. Why?”

  “We had the Psi Corps everywhere. I was born in the Russian consortium, out in the country a bit, but not exactly the wilderness. We saw telepaths wandering through from time to time. Business deals, that sort of thing.”

  She closed her eyes tightly, welcoming the darkness she saw.

  “My mother was a telepath. Potentially, she was of average strength, I suppose, but she was never trained. She couldn’t do much. She wasn’t a threat to anyone. The only person she could ever read was me. I suppose she could read my father and my brother Ganya as well, but it was mostly just me.

  “Psi Corps came for her one day, on her thirty-fifth birthday. She didn’t have much choice. Go to prison, join the Corps or take certain drugs. She had a young family. She didn’t want to leave us, so she took the drugs, and they killed her. One bit at a time. Eventually she killed herself, but that wasn’t when she died. She’d been dead for a long time before then, dead where it counted.

  “She told me something, just before she died. Three words. Tell no one. And I haven’t. I’ve kept this a secret for so long, always moving around, hiding, changing schools. Always new faces, new surroundings, a new name. That’s why I don’t have an accent, in case you were wondering. I never spent enough time in one place to develop one.

  “My father knew what I was, but he didn’t seem to believe it. He certainly never mentioned it, and he died a little, after Mama died. He never had much love for me, and he had even less afterwards. He died on Earth. Ganya… I don’t think he knew, although if he had, he wouldn’t have said anything. He died a few months before the Line.

  “No one human knows this, Marcus. No one. But I have to tell you, because… because you have to see what I am, what I want…

  “I’m a telepath. Not very powerful, and I’ve never been trained. The only person I could ever touch was my mother, but that’s enough for Psi Corps. That’s why I always moved, in case Psi Corps caught up with me. They’d catch me, and they’d do to me what they did to my mother.

  “Psi Corps was pretty much destroyed with Earth, but there’s still a few of them left. You remember Bester, don’t you? He’s still around, and of course there’s your Lyta. There’s enough of them to pose a threat, and if anyone had ever found out what I was, then they’d have taken me. They’d have had to. Lyta is one of the only telepaths of any power here. The Resistance Government is always looking for more resources, more weapons, more anything of value. More telepaths.

  “They’d have given me to what was left of the Corps, and there’d be nothing I could do about it.

  “Until I met the Shadows. They asked me what I wanted, the same question I asked Captain Sheridan. My answer… I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be able to stop running. I didn’t want to be afraid any more!

  “And now I’m not. I’m not afraid, or ashamed, of what I am. The Shadows… never mind what anyone’s told you, they aren’t our enemies. What have they done for you to oppose them so much? All they want to do is help us. They want us to take back our place in the galaxy. All of us, the whole human race has been living in fear for fifteen years! Than
ks to the Shadows, we don’t have to be afraid any more.

  “They want to help us, Marcus, and everything I’ve done since I came here, has been to help humanity. You… the Shadows didn’t understand you. They’d have killed you, but I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Marcus, I can help you. All you have to do is believe me. I don’t want to hurt you.

  “Marcus, what do you want?”

  She could see the lights gleaming in his eyes. She could feel the memories burning in the back of his mind. She could practically… touch him.

  No! She drew back, terrified. She’d only ever been able to touch her mother. The Shadows had tried to augment her powers, but they’d only succeeded peripherally. She still couldn’t do much. Her children might be more powerful, but for the moment, no.

  But, she had found herself able to reach out and touch Marcus’ mind. But she had pulled back. To invade his thoughts without his permission… that would be a violation, that would be as terrible as anything Psi Corps had done to her.

  “Why did they destroy my home?” Marcus asked. “If all they want to do is help, then why did they kill everyone I ever cared for?” She could feel his bitterness, his anger. It had been festering within him for almost a year now.

  Damn you, John! she thought. Why did you have to make him part of your little war?

  “That was… an accident. The Shadows seeded one of their ships there a long time ago, before it was ever colonised. They didn’t… mean to kill anyone, but they had to retrieve their ship. They’re… sorry.”

  “An accident?” he said hollowly. “Just… an accident. Delenn said that the war began because of an accident. Does that excuse what the Minbari have done?”

  “No, but… we’re trying to help, Marcus. My friends… they helped me, and they can help you. All you have to do is let them. Please! You don’t have to fight them. What do you want, Marcus? Just tell me and you can have it.”

  “I want to know where Lyta is.”

  Susan started, as if she had been struck. She almost fell, but she managed to catch herself in time. She could only stare at him, wondering what might have been if only things had been different.

  Psi Corps had taken everything from her. Had they taken this as well?

  Her link activated, and she raised it slowly, still looking at Marcus.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “Ambassador Ivanova.” It was General Hague. “I would like to see you as soon as possible. We’re picking up some disturbing reports about Minbari activity.”

  “I… yes. I’ll be there now.” She turned off her link and looked at Marcus.

  “Please. Think about what I said.” She went to the door. “And don’t do anything stupid. The Shadows here have eyes.”

  She left.

  * * * * * * *

  “So then, Mr. Morden, is there any chance you can explain just what you are doing here?”

  Londo studied the human before him carefully. Morden – if that was his real name – looked… normal. A little too normal. Londo’s experience with humans had not been extensive, but he had spent some time in the last year sparring with the Resistance Government at Proxima 3 – setting up a peace accord that his dear friend Lord Refa had just blown completely out of the sky – and he had learned to read the species. Their politics were not as subtle or as sophisticated as the Centauri’s, but they still posed their own problems to one unaware of human customs.

  Morden was simply dressed, all in black. His clothes were torn – the guard had mentioned something about his being roughed up a little – and he was marked with bruises and scratches. There was fatigue in his bearing, but he bore his injuries as if they were irrelevant. Just a minor annoyance.

  “I… had a meeting,” he said, smiling slightly. It was a very personal smile, one that indicated that whatever he was smiling about had nothing whatsoever to do with anyone else.

  “With whom exactly?”

  “Oh, no one special. You know how it is, Minister.”

  “Mr. Morden, what I do know is that you are in very serious trouble. You have been accused of murdering a lady of this court – our Emperor’s mother, no less. If you cannot be considerably more straightforward with me than you are now, I fear your remaining life will be uncomfortable, unpleasant and short.”

  “Did you happen to hear of any evidence against me?”

  Londo was tired. He had been tired for the best part of three or four years, ever since he had met G’Kar and been inducted into the little conspiracy the Narn was forming. It had been on G’Kar’s advice that he had directed foreign policy and the attempted peace accord with the humans. He had helped G’Kar and jeopardised his future and his career in doing so. He was also embroiled in a power struggle that looked set to explode into civil war at any moment. He was married to three of the most… annoying ladies millennia of Centauri breeding had managed to produce. And on top of that, he had been called for a meeting with Lady Morella, Emperor Turhan’s third wife, and prophetess, only to find that she had been murdered.

  He was not having a good life.

  “Mr. Morden! You are accused of murdering a Centauri lady, a prominent member of the Royal Court. You are an alien here. Evidence has got nothing to do with it.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “And I am sure that will make a lot of difference to your corpse, Mr. Morden. Maybe you are guilty, and maybe you are not, but the point is that I cannot find out which one is true unless you deign to provide me with some answers. Why are you on Centauri Prime?”

  “I’m a trader. I had some archaeological goods to sell.”

  “And where did you sell them?”

  “Oh. Here and there.”

  “Mr. Morden! Do you comprehend the severity of your situation here?”

  “My apologies, Minister.” Morden smiled again and bowed mockingly. “It won’t happen again. To answer your question, I sold a number of ancient Centauri artefacts to a Lady Drusella, and a handful more at a select auction.”

  “Lady Drusella?” Londo knew of her. She was married to Lord Marrago, a high ranking military governor during the war with the Narn. He had ruled several colonies taken in the early stages of the last war. He had a daughter, did he not? Ah, what was her name? A pretty little thing, vacant and mindless? Read too much poetry?

  “Bah!” he snapped. It had escaped him. He must be getting old. He was losing his memory. Lord Marrago had never shown much of an inclination for power games on Centauri Prime. He was always far more content ruling his captured colonies. Lady Drusella was not particularly important, either, but an appearance of unimportance was the perfect disguise… Had she arranged Lady Morella’s murder?

  Or was Londo just becoming very paranoid?

  “And where exactly did you uncover these artefacts? I doubt they came from Proxima Three.” The humans’ last colony was quite a way from Centauri space.

  “No, actually. I’ve been… out of circulation there for a while. I’ve been doing some exploration out on the Rim.”

  “Oh? Did you discover anything interesting? Apart from these artefacts?”

  He hesitated, as if evaluating an answer. Then he smiled. “Yes.”

  Londo groaned. “And why were you here in the Royal Palace last night?”

  Why was he bothering? Why couldn’t he be in bed right now? Or better yet, in a gambling hall, with a pretty lady in one arm, and a pair of charmed dice in the other?

  Why? Because he had fought hard for the good of his people, because he believed in the good old days of Centauri power, and he believed that they could come about again. Because he believed that his people deserved better, and more. Because he believed, full stop.

  And because he was not going to let anyone return the Centauri to what they had been before the war – decadent, pitied, insular, shallow and pathetic. Neither Narn, nor human, nor Centauri, nor Minbari, nor Vorlon. No one.

  “I had a meeting. With Lady Morella. She was… interested in the artefacts I was se
lling and she wanted to arrange for first refusal when I returned.”

  “That is a lie, Mr. Morden. That last part certainly.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Yes, you’re right.” He paused, and Londo could feel the human’s eyes concentrating on him. “Were you making a point?”

  “Double bah! This is pathetic. I do not care whether you are guilty or innocent, Mr. Morden. I do not care if you are executed and your head stuck on a pike. I only care that, if you are innocent, the real murderer remains at large, and threatens what I have built here. That I will not let happen, Mr. Morden. I will give you a while to… consider your situation here. I will return later. For your sake, be a little more co-operative than you are at present.”

  Londo banged on the door, and stormed away. He was developing a headache, uncomfortably like a hangover, except without all the fun that would precede it. He was tired, he was irritable and he wanted a drink.

  He did not want a run-in with that multi-damned harridan Lady Elrisia and that drooling imbecile Cartagia. But still, what he wanted rarely mattered in the great scheme of things.

  And Morden, what did he want? Perhaps if anyone had been able to listen in to him in his cell, they would have uncovered something interesting…

  “So, now that I’m in this mess, did you have any plans for getting me out of it? Oh, thank you very much, but it’s easy enough for you to say that. I’m quite attached to my head, you know. I like it on my neck, and not on a Centauri pike.

  “Ah. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. You might just have a point.”

  But as no one was listening, the one-sided conversation went unheeded. A pity, really.

  * * * * * * *

  “My commiserations on your recent loss, Captain. I know what it is like to lose someone you love. You have my sincere sympathy.”

  Sheridan looked at Bester, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t tell if the Psi Cop was being serious or not. Either way, he wondered how Bester had heard about Anna’s death – or were Delenn’s telepathic safeguards not working?