Out Of The Darkness

by Peter David

  me, do not go to Z'ha'dum. Do you understand? Do not go to Z'ha'dum..." She held him desperately, wishing she could shield him from harm with her own body, and suddenly Sheridan tore away from her, slamming against the wall as if in the grip of some vast in­visible fist. He convulsed once more, his head snapping this way and that, and then with tremendous effort he focused on her. "Delenn . .." he whispered. "I ... I blanked out, I ..." He looked around the corridor in utter astonishment. "How did we get here? How did .. ." Caso had stopped, and was standing there. He was looking around with barely controlled nervousness, clearly concerned that someone might show up. Realizing that they had halted, Dunseny came back to them and gestured urgently. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. Sheridan looked in confusion from one to the other. "Are you. . . taking us to Londo?" "We were just there," Delenn told him. "John ... we can't stop here and discuss this. Later. Later we can-" Suddenly his hand clutched her arm so hard that pain shot up to her shoulder. Then he realized what he was doing, and eased up. "Babylon 4," he whispered. "The time flux ... this was it. . ." "Yes," she said, relieved that she wasn't going to have to explain. "I thought I was suddenly having deja vu," he said, looking around. Urgently she suddenly inquired, "Z'ha'dum .. . did you-" "Go?" He nodded. "Yes." He sounded almost apologetic, be­cause obviously he remembered her breathless advice ... and had felt constrained to disobey it anyway. She felt an awful mixture of relief and pain, all at the same time. Relief because she had allowed a moment of weakness to jeopardize everything that was, or might ever be ... and nothing had come from it. And pain because it meant that, in three years at the most, John would be lost to her. The time given him as a re­prieve against death would be running out. If he had not gone to Z'ha'dum... "Ifs," Sheridan had said to her, years before. With an amused grin he had explained, "My father used to say 'If ifs and ands were pots and pans, the world would be a kitchen.' " She hadn't been entirely certain she understood it, but the message was clear. "Mr. President," Dunseny said with extremely forced polite­ness, and he indicated that the hallway awaited them. Without any further discussion, Sheridan and Delenn bolted down the corridor. A series of quick turns and they emerged through a door of the palace. On a pad nearby, there was a shuttle waiting for them. "It's the emperor's personal landing pad," Dunseny informed them. His attitude seemed to carry the message that for the em­peror to provide such a service for them was a singular honor. They were, to Dunseny's mind, probably not acting with suffi­cient awe or gratitude. "He wished me to convey to you his hope that the shuttle will sufficiently accommodate you." "What about David," Sheridan said urgently. He turned to De­lenn. "Where is he?" She rested a hand on his arm, and said firmly, "Londo assured me that David would be safe. That he would be gotten off-world. Londo said he himself would attend to it personally. Come." And she was pulling him toward the shuttle. Had he not been so groggy and confused, Sheridan would have put up a greater struggle. As it was, he was arguing never­theless, dragging his heels, not petulantly, but with determina­tion. And each word or phrase was matched by a small stomp of a foot. "We aren't. . . leaving.. . without. . . David.. ." "It has been attended to, sir," Caso offered. He led them over to the shuttle. "Now you have to leave. . ." Clearly Sheridan was getting his usual fire and composure back, because standing just outside the shuttle, he rounded on the guard, and said, "Listen, sonny. We don't 'have' to do any­thing that gets in the way of what's important: namely, getting our son back." His hand was trembling, and he was shaking a finger at Caso. "If he doesn't turn up-" "John!" Delenn's voice was a cry of alarm, flooded with re­lief. "Look!" Sprawled in the center of the shuttle, like a large bag of pro­duce, was David. Delenn ran to him, checked him over. She was relieved to see that his chest was rising and falling in a wonder­fully normal manner. "David.,. David, wake up . .." "That would not be wise. Nor feasible," Dunseny said. "He's asleep because we drugged him." "Drugged him!" Delenn said in alarm. "Well... drugged his food, technically." "What have you done to my son?" Sheridan demanded angrily. If Sheridan's anger was intended to intimidate Dunseny, it didn't work. The faithful retainer looked at him with only the mildest of concern. "Nothing that wasn't necessary." Suddenly Delenn understood. She pulled back the edge of his shirt, around the throat. The small mass of protoplasm-the thing called the keeper-was still attached, its single, fearsome eye closed. It slept as soundly as David. "In Valen's name . . ." she whispered. "As you see," Dunseny said mildly. "We did to him what the emperor did to himself, but on a far more extreme level. As I said, necessary. If his-associate-were to see the two of you, it would put an end to your escape." His face twisted in disgust. "The Drakh may be in the process of abandoning this world, thank the Great Maker. But if the keeper were in working order, you can rest assured that one of their vessels would still find the time to blow you out of the sky." "He should be out for some time yet," Caso told them. "Perhaps not quite long enough for you to get to Minbar... but far enough, at least, to be safe in deep space, several jump points away." "At that point, if he awakens, don't tell him your position. We're hoping even the keeper can't send information to the Drakh that his host doesn't possess." Dunseny looked around apprehensively once more. "Standing here talking is counter­ productive. Leave. Now." Sheridan quickly moved forward to the cockpit of the shuttle, Delenn staying by David's side, caressing his hair gently. Some part of her couldn't quite believe that he was with them again. She looked to Dunseny, standing outside the shuttle, looking in unflappably as the door irised shut. The skyline of the burning city was visible behind him, in the distance. Just before the closing door cut off her view of his face, he said-without the slightest trace of irony-"Thank you for visiting beautiful Cen-tauri Prime. We do hope you've enjoyed your trip. Please come again." And then the door closed. chapter 27 Far, far away from it all... The female Centauri lay on her deathbed. The women who tended her were moving around like moths, flitting about, dabbing her head that was burning with fever, trying to keep liquids in her, and taking care of her needs. She did not pay attention to any of them, did not seem to know that any of them were there. She stared at the ceiling, although since her eyes were glassy, it was difficult to know just how much she actually saw. In a way, it seemed that she was not looking at the ceiling... but through it. Through it to a place light-years away, to events that she could not see, could not possibly know about ... and yet, somehow, she did... The moment G'Kar felt the fingers tighten on his throat, he knew there was no backing out. He knew that he was in the fight of his life ... a fighter his life. But he wasn't looking at Londo as he redoubled his efforts to crush the emperor's throat. His focus was entirely on the eye that was peering back at him ... the single, unblinking eye. He saw terror in it, and from that terror, he drew strength. Harder, Londo! Save us! Save us! We do not want to die! Londo saw the fearsome red eye of G'Kar, and it was looking to his side. He realized that, at the last, G'Kar's battle was not with him, but with the thing on his shoulder. Londo's mind was almost detached from what was happening. In a way, it was symbolic. The keeper was the incarnation of all the dark, back-

  ground forces that had made Londo their puppet for so many years. And even as he thought that, his efforts increased, his death grip on G'Kar's throat redoubled. Strength flowed from the panic that the keeper fed into him, and he wanted to scream Faster, G 'Kar! Faster! End it before it 's too late! But he could say nothing, for his windpipe was already crushed. He had no chance, and still he fought on. Londo! You can stop him! You can kill the Narn and we can live on, and it will be much better, you will have more time for yourself, we can do this thing for you, we will treat you better, and the Drakh will make things better, love us, Londo, stop him! Londo had heard that, when one is dying, one's life flashes be­fore one's eyes . . . As G'Kar's fingers burrowed deeper, his mind further disas­sociated, and he waited, and saw nothing ... and there was still nothing, and time stretched out and continued to warp around him and there was nothing... Nothing. .. Londo , . .fight. . .fight. . . help us ... S
hiv'kala . .. Drakh, masters of shadow, help us ... do not flee, do not run, help us, help your servants. . . Words ... so many words ... It was incredible to G'Kar. He had been a warrior, with no pa­tience for words, and yet words had become his weapon, cutting more deeply than any blade, smashing down more doors than any strength of arm. Words, words came floating back to him.. . No one here is exactly what they seem. . . I did not fight to remove one dictator just to become another myself. . . There s someone else out there, Na 'Toth. . . The future isn 't what it used to be. . . These and hundreds of others tumbled around, fighting to be noticed, to be remembered and treasured and cherished one final time, one final moment before sliding off into oblivion.

  He shoved forward, tumbling to the floor, his hands stil! wrapped around Londo's throat, his eye still fixed on the malevo­lent creature staring back at him. He desperately wanted to hear the mouthless creature scream. He thought, in some way, he ac­tually heard it doing so. Not hear it... feel it... Feel it... feel it all... Feel the agony of seeing his father hanging from a tree, telling his son with his dying breath that he was proud of him... Feel the warmth of the blood splattering on him ... the blood of the first Centauri he killed... Feel the pain of Delenn's gravity rings crushing him... Feel the loss, the humiliation, the betrayal of his people at the hands of Londo Mollari.. . Feel the ignominy of being forced from the council after the Narn had fallen ... and the swell of desperate pride as he made his exit speech... Feel the agony of the eye being torn from his face ... that was as nothing compared to Cartagia's lash upon his back... Feel the momentary glory of triumph, breaking free of his bonds in Cartagia's throne room, seeing the shock of his Centauri captors as they realized just what it was they were facing... Feel the serenity of his writings... Feel the friendship for Londo that he never thought could occur... Feel the pride in accomplishment ... the softness of a woman's skin pressed against him ... the smell of fresh air ... the warmth of a sunrise ... the coolness of a sunset ... the hands around his throat... the pain. .. receding... the job... not done... not quitting... wetness ... on his hands, Londo's tears flowing, sobbing at his fate, tears on G 'Kar 's hands... the hand. . . of the king. . . saving the king. . . saving the realm... saving... Londo! Do not stop! You can save us! The darkness.. . there are things in it.. . l am afraid of the darkness. . . Londo. . . love us. . . Londo . . . Londo. . . Nothing... there was nothing... he was ... I saw nothing.. . not a thing. .. When Kosh emerged from the encounter suit ... to save Sheridan that time . . . Londo had been standing there ... and the words, the whispered wonderment... Valeria . . . Droshalla. . . G 'Lan. . . They all saw ... something . . . and Londo, squinting against the light. .. saw . . . I saw nothing. . . not a thing. . . Nothing... the nothingness of an empty soul... the nothing-ness of the damned... the nothing . .. Londo! Save us ... save... save. . . Save.. . save us... Save me... And then... ... then the mental picture that he had snapped of that mo­ment, buried in his head for all these years ... suddenly devel­oped ... the detail fleshing in, and he saw... he saw... ... a being... a great being, with wings outstretched, looking up... no, down ... down at him, smiling, and the face, a female face, flickering, shifting, and it was Adira, smiling at him, telling him that there was nothing to fear, and she stretched her hand out to him ... he reached for it... and tears began to flow, tears of joy... and behind her, a beach seemed to shimmer. . . Black tendrils, snared around his arm, pulling him back... ... he fought against them, the final fight, the only fight, the only one that mattered, and his fingers were almost brushing against hers . .. Londo . . . you cannot get away . . . you will always be ours. . . you. . . I will be my own man, he howled in his mind, and he lunged for her, for the warmth, for the beauty of that winged and glo­rious creature, and his fingers brushed against hers. The mo­ment they did there was a crackle of energy, and it filled him, and exploded within him, and then the world turned to pure white. . .

  chapter 28

  Far, far away from it all... The female Centauri focused, for the first time in a long time, on those who were tending her. And in a voice surprisingly strong and firm, she said, "Oho. Now he needs me. Typical..." ... and then her eyes closed in repose, andTimov, daughter of Algul, empress-in-exile of Centauri Prime, passed away... Renegar and Gwynn were standing at Vir's shuttle, gesturing frantically for him to come aboard. Gwynn seemed to be as­sessing Senna, casting a critical eye up and down. Senna didn't seem to meet with her approval. Then again, very little did. So instead she turned her attention to the skies, obviously antici­pating the possibility that one of the Drakh might detect them somehow and take their revenge. But as Vir approached, he sud­denly slowed, then stopped. "What the hell are you doing?" Renegar demanded. Senna turned to look back at him in confusion. "Vir?" Vir was holding a large satchel clutched in his arms, like a child. Suddenly he shoved it into Senna's arms, kissed her quickly on the cheek, turned, and headed back for the palace. "I'm going back to help Londo." "You can't help him," Gwynn said flatly. "You can only de­stroy yourself." "Destroy myself?" There was a flat, disbelieving tone in Vir's voice. "You still don't get it, do you, Gwynn. Everything that was good about me is long gone. Everything that I used to de­spise about myself, I now realize was the best of me. I can't de­stroy myself; Vir Cotto was destroyed long ago. I can only end myself, and believe me, at this point, I don't much care about that." He turned and bolted for the castle. Behind him, Renegar shouted, "You're being a fool!" "Long practice," Vir shouted back. Renegar watched him go in disbelief, and then shaking his head, he turned to the techno-mages. "Do we wait for him to come back?" "Only if we are as great fools as he is," Gwynn shot back.