A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 1 : Learning How to Live addm-5

by Gareth D. Williams

He is strong in mind, not flesh. This battle he has won, Warrior. Accept and learn.

  His flesh is weak.

  His spirit is strong. No, Warrior. You shall not kill him today.

  Marrago saw the Wykhheran step back and disappear from sight. He relaxed his guard, but only slightly. Moreil recognised the message there. Whatever he might appear to be, this mortal was always ready for battle.

  "How do you know all these things?"

  Marrago looked at him for a long while. The Wykhheran's angry thoughts flashed through Moreil's mind. He pacified them with promises of one of the captives the Brotherhood had taken from Gorash. While tearing apart a helpless prisoner was not nearly as exciting as facing down a true warrior, that did mollify the Wykhheran a little.

  Marrago stepped back and folded his arms high on his chest. Still Moreil did not move. He knew the blade could be in his hands in less than a second.

  "Did you think you were the only warrior to fail his lord?" Marrago asked.

  Moreil did not reply.

  "Is there going to be any action against me for helping the girl?"

  "This one shall not care for the girl. If you desire her, then she is yours, by all this one cares. You should be wary, once-Warmaster. Soon you will stumble and your eyes will close and your death will be nearby."

  "I have been a soldier of the Republic all my life. Death has never been far from me."

  Moreil turned to leave, thinking carefully. As he reached the door, something came to him, and he turned. "This one remembers," he said. "The girl-child you rescued...."

  "Yes?"

  "You had a girl-child of your own. She is now dead."

  Marrago's eyes darkened.

  "Yes."

  Moreil waited for something more. There was nothing.

  He left, the angry thoughts of the Wykhheran still with him. They complained about not being able to kill this Sin-tahri. But their complaints were too many, too loud, too boisterous. They were hiding something. After a while Moreil realised what that was, and that realisation troubled him more than anything else he had experienced with this Marrago.

  The Wykhheran were afraid of him.

  * * *

  Why are they so afraid of me? Why do they not see?

  As he waited patiently in the anteroom, these two questions preyed on Morden's mind more and more. This would be so much easier if people just sat down and thought about things for a while. They would soon see what was the right thing to do.

  But no, people never thought. They reacted out of fear and anger and greed and they would never learn to put aside personal concerns for the greater good. It was because of people like that, that his wife....

  Human or Centauri, they were all the same. The Centauri had played their Great Game for so long, all they saw was the Game itself and none of the reasons for it. They never saw beyond. They spoke of tradition and heritage and legacies and never looked to the future.

  Well, Morden would drag them into the future, kicking and screaming if he had to.

  Londo's condition was not improving. It had been over six days since his heart attack. The best doctors in the Republic were working on him, but Morden knew full well that all of them were motivated by political concerns. Some were no doubt being paid off by various nobles. Some were worried about their own health, whether they cured or killed him. He had planned to bring in Alliance doctors, only to be told that was unthinkable. The Republic dared not be seen to be crawling to aliens for medical help. They had their pride, after all.

  Their pride was going to kill their Emperor.

  Morden had had enough.

  The aide, who possessed some elaborate and wholly unnecessary title, came in and told Morden the Centarum was now ready for him. He rose and walked calmly into the massive room.

  An antiquated custom, all of it. The Centarum was a product of the Great Game that always seemed to survive. No matter who tried to suppress or weaken it, it was always capable of rising again. Ironically most of the people here hated each other passionately, but still they remained together, arrogantly secure in their right to rule.

  Morden took up his place at the Speaker's lectern and looked around. The room was full. How many of the nobility had died during the 'Troubles'? And somehow there were always more of them.

  "Greetings to the Centarum," he said formally. Time enough to honour their etiquette for now. Besides, politeness cost nothing. "I stand before you as the official representative from the United Alliance of Kazomi Seven to the Centauri Republic." Over a year he had been here and not once had he addressed this body. Not once had he been permitted to and not once had they asked him to. Even over matters of Alliance concern, such as the Inquisitors, the Centarum had turned to Londo. No wonder the poor man had collapsed like that. The stress must have been intolerable.

  "There has been no change in the Emperor's condition," he continued. "We have to consider the very real possibility that he will never recover." There was not a great deal of shock at this. He had a feeling almost everyone here had already considered that. "Contrary to some of the rumours circulating at present, the Inquisitors and the Ministry for the Interior have confirmed in their joint investigation that the Emperor's collapse was entirely natural, the inevitable result of poor health and stress. I am satisfied there was no foul play involved.

  "However, the Emperor's illness has caused a considerable power vacuum here. The Republic as a whole is suffering as a result. The Alliance has decided to lend its support to the Centauri Republic during this time of crisis. Ambassador Durano has formally requested aid from the Alliance, and this has been granted.

  "Military assistance will be provided in certain vulnerable systems, especially Gorash, Frallus and Immolan. This will be under the overall control of Commander N'Rothak, who is already in charge of the peacekeeping forces on Gorash Seven.

  "Centauri Prime itself will also be protected by Alliance peacekeeping forces. These will consist of a squadron of Dark Star ships, two multi-racial detachments of support ships and five thousand ground based soldiers. The objective is obviously to prevent further recurrence of civil unrest during this difficult time. The leader of this force has not yet been chosen, but he or she will work directly in liaison with my office and with the Inquisition base established here.

  "These measures are only for the duration of the current emergency and disruption will be minimised as much as is possible, but obviously the location and capture of Shadow agents and dissidents is of the utmost priority.

  "Furthermore, the Alliance office will assume direct control of the Government for the duration of the crisis. All Government officials will take instructions directly from the emergency cabinet currently being constituted, of which I will be a member, as will the Commander of the Alliance forces, and the High Inquisitor.

  "As a result, this body is suspended for the duration of the crisis. It is the recommendation of the Alliance that you return to your estates and help maintain order there. Alliance forces will be occupying the major centres of population of the assisted worlds and it is expected that all local officials and landowners will co-operate fully with them.

  "There will of course be restrictions on travel, but I personally guarantee your return journeys to your estates will be given second-most priority after the movement of Alliance officials, and any delays are minimised."

  Morden stood back and looked around at the expressions of anger and disbelief. They all believed themselves immune from any harm, all of them. Simply because of accidents of birth, they held themselves inviolate. Even when former First Minister Malachi had dissolved the Centarum during the Troubles, that was accepted. Malachi had been one of them. He played the same game they did, by the same rules.

  But Morden did not play their game, and he did not play by their rules. He would bring order to the Centauri Republic if he had to break every rule, shatter every tradition and tear the society apart in order to do it.

  "Are there any questions?" he asked at las
t.

  There was a flurry of comments. "Outrageous!" was one. "You can't do this!" was another.

  Morden smiled. It was rare that duty and pleasure came together at the same time and he took care to savour every such moment when he could. "Oh, we can do this. Read the Treaty you signed when you joined the Alliance. It gives me the authority to do exactly this.

  "Your days of prestige and power are over, gentlemen. The Republic is teetering on the edge of the abyss, again. It seems that no sooner are you saved from one catastrophe than another emerges.

  "I am interested in more than a mere quick fix. I will see to it that you are strengthened, fortified and made fit and ready to be a productive member of the Alliance instead of the burden and drain you all are at present.

  "And, I should point out, if any of you feel you are having ideas, Captain Durla is outside this very building with an entire Imperial Legion, as well as three Inquisitors.

  "You have been given your instructions. What comes from me, comes directly from the Alliance Council itself. Heed them. Defy them at your peril.

  "This meeting is now over. I wish you all safe travel back to your estates, gentlemen."

  With that, he left. Maybe now he would have time to do everything that had to be done.

  * * *

  Whispers from the Day of the Dead — VII

  There had not been enough time. Not nearly enough time.

  How could two people undo the mistakes of an entire lifetime in one night? How could a mere few hours' words make amends for decades of recrimination and anger and pride?

  Oh, he had tried. Both of them had. But there had just not been enough time, and too many memories pulling at them both.

  Kulomani, Captain of the Dark Star fleet, sat alone as the Day of the Dead ended, and looked up as the comet herald faded from the skies. It would not come again in his lifetime, he knew that. Nor his son's. He wondered what would have happened had he died at any time in the war now gone. Would he have come back to meet his son? Would his son even have come to talk to him?

  And would they have made even half an effort to undo everything that had passed between them? Would they even try?

  "Where are you now, I wonder?" he asked himself. They were still alive, his wife, his son. Perhaps his wife had remarried. Perhaps his son was already wed by now. Could he have grandchildren he knew nothing about? It was possible. It was very possible.

  Would any of them welcome him back into their lives?

  Would his pride even let him try?

  "We chose our own paths," he said. "You did not understand mine, and I do not understand yours." Something his father had said from beyond the veil mere hours ago stayed with him.

  "Why did you not want to follow me? Was a life of carving things of beauty really so terrible to you? Would you really have hated so much to follow in my footsteps?"

  He had not been able to answer that. He had not been able to explain his decision to join the army all those years ago when he had left home. How could he do so now?

  "We choose our own paths," he said again.

  "And only now do we realise where they've taken us," said an unfamiliar voice. Kulomani turned to see an elderly Centauri in a military uniform sit down beside him. The length of his hair indicated he was of high rank. The Centauri sighed. "Only now, at the end of our lives, can we see the choices we have made."

  Kulomani nodded silently.

  "Whom did you wish to see?" the Centauri asked. "Parent? Child? Friend?"

  "My father."

  "Did you say everything you wished to say?"

  "No. How could we, with only one night? I have been waiting for this day for so long, and now it has come and gone I feel so.... hollow. I have had my greatest chance for acceptance, and it has passed me by. And you? Who did you see?"

  "I came to see my daughter, but.... I saw an old friend instead. I think I saw the person I most needed to see, not whom I most wanted to see."

  "Some have said that is the way of it. We.... understand how this night works a little. It is not something that makes sense to aliens, but most of us are able to choose whom we speak to. Yet somehow it is the strangers, the visitors, the guests, who emerge from it with the most fulfilment and understanding, while we, who are raised with the knowledge of this night, remain lost."

  Kulomani stared out into the rising daylight for a while, and then said softly. "You are Marrago, are you not? The former Lord-General of the Centauri?"

  "I am."

  "I understand your Government has placed a price on your head."

  "They have. Are you going to try to claim it?"

  "No. I am a soldier, not a bounty hunter, and one old soldier can respect the decisions of another, even if we are on different sides."

  "Yes, we are on different sides, but which of us is on the right one? Are you happy with the way things are?"

  "Happy? I do not think I know. The war is over. That is good."

  "And how long until another one begins?"

  "That is not something I want to think about."

  "It's coming, though. You can't deny that."

  "No. I have felt something stirring, an undercurrent of.... pain and fear and anger. Soon it will all break free on the surface, and then....

  "And then...."

  He paused. "I think you had better tell me everything."

  * * *

  Sheridan immediately took a step back, the trance that had gripped him as he had walked the dead corridors at an end. His PPG seemed to fly into his hand and he pointed it directly at Sinoval.

  But the Minbari was faster still. Stormbringer flowed in his hands like water, like an extension of his self. One thrust and the gun was knocked from Sheridan's hands.

  "I did not come here to fight," Sinoval said simply.

  "You could have fooled me," Sheridan replied. "You look like you were expecting one."

  "A wise man prepares for every eventuality, is that not so? I did not think you would welcome me kindly, Sheridan."

  "You thought right. The Alliance wants you brought in for a war crimes tribunal."

  "Oh? And what war crimes have I committed exactly? I made no bargains with the Shadows. At best, you could say I treated with one who was working with them, but that was outwith my knowledge, and she is long dead."

  "You are plotting sedition and rebellion against the Alliance."

  "How can it be rebellion? I was never sworn to the Alliance, and I never will be. The Federation joined only after I departed, remember. If you mean I am assembling forces to bring you down, then yes, I admit it. But if I am going that far, then I expect the same honesty from you, Sheridan.

  "Who rules the Alliance?"

  "We all do."

  "And still you delude yourself. I saw the truth in you in that Council Chamber over two years ago, and I still see it now. They rule you. They rule all of you, and you just do not see it at all. Who wants me arrested, Sheridan? Who orders the Inquisitors? Ironic, isn't it? They hide in the shadows and make you all dance to their tune."

  "The Vorlons aren't our enemies."

  "The Vorlons are destroying you all, and you are too blind to see it! Look, Sheridan! Open your eyes and look around and think for one moment! Is this why the Alliance was created? Did any of you have the Inquisitors in mind then? Look at what is happening to the Centauri. Is that what you had in mind? Look at what happened to the Drazi.

  "Did you envisage any of this at the beginning? Secret police. Martial law. Civil war, even.

  "Can you truly tell me you wanted these things at the beginning?"

  "It's not that simple, and you know it. We have to make sure the Shadows don't come back. We have to make sure this peace is eternal, not just for a few years, or even for a thousand."

  "And your methods.... these will bring war in months. All you have done is build a paper house around foolish dreams. You remember the war, as you should, but you think anything is preferable to that. What matter if we have lost our freedom? What
matter if we weaken and shatter and destroy one of our oldest allies? What matter if we are angry and hungry and lost?

  "What matter any of those things? After all, we have our peace, don't we? Our precious peace!

  "Tell me this, Sheridan.

  "Just what kind of peace have you bought us?"

  "Listen to me, you worthless hypocrite, before you start coming over all noble and concerned! A champion of the poor and downtrodden?

  "How dare you? I've been at war for eighteen years solid! Eighteen years! It's cost me my friends, my wife, my parents, my sister, my daughter, my son.... It's cost all those things and more, to God alone knows how many people!

  "Fine, what we have isn't perfect. Nothing ever is this side of the grave, but it's better than the alternative!

  "And I think we should look at your motives here just a little. You're a warrior, remember. You're bred to kill. That's all you know. What does it matter whom you kill, hmm? As long as you have someone to fight, then good on you and get on with it, and to hell with anyone who gets in the way.

  "War does no good for anyone. Talk to the people of Kazomi Seven and Proxima Three who can now look up at the skies without fear. Talk to the parents who can watch their children grow up without fear. Talk to the children who can look at a future where they don't have to be afraid."

  Sinoval smiled. "Ah, Sheridan. What makes you think I haven't? And as for you, talk to the Drazi. Talk to the Centauri. Talk to those who have lost sons and daughters and wives and husbands to your Inquisitors. No fear? They are more afraid now than they ever were before."

  "Don't lie to me. The Inquisitors look for Shadow agents. The innocent have nothing to fear from them."

  "And who defines who is innocent, Sheridan? The Inquisitors themselves, of course. Whom do they serve? To whom do they answer?"

  "The Council, of course."

  "You are a blind man, Sheridan. Whom does the Alliance serve? All of your noble ideals of peace and justice and an end to war. Yes, I was a warrior, and yes, I was bred to kill. But all that means is that I look at peace with a suspicious eye. And this peace in particular is shaking at the foundations.