Understanding is not required. Questions are not permitted. All that is required is order and obedience. You will obey us.
Tirivail looked down at the armies again. Her sister was there, and her father, and Sinoval, and even Kozorr. She breathed out slowly, although she knew that here she had no need to breathe at all.
"All I have ever known is order," she said calmly. "Obedience to those in command. Not to question, not to think, just to hear and to obey. I have always tried to serve to the best of my ability.
"But I was never good enough. Never. I am not worthy to lead armies, and that is not even what I want to do. You cannot give me what I want.
"I refuse."
You will obey us or you will die.
She smiled. "I am a warrior. I am not afraid to die."
The lightning thundered from the sky and tore into the ground at her feet. The spirit of light faded and a voice came, as if from elsewhere.
"At least the Shadows finally admitted it at the end. They accepted they weren't doing any good, weren't doing what they were supposed to do, and they left."
"Berevain! Berevain!"
"I'm thinking they might have won after all. At least they admitted their mistake, which is more than you ever have."
"Berevain!"
There were two voices, one nearby, one from a long way away. She could not tell which was which, but she knew someone was calling her by a name she did not know. One was speaking to her, the other was just speaking.
A third voice, one as dark and chill as the mountain itself.
"My lady!"
And then she awoke.
Memory returned in an instant. Kats, and the human Inquisitor, and the staff crackling with lightning, and the rush of force that had thrown her against the wall.
"My lady," said the voice. "You wake."
She did not know the voice any more than she knew the face. He was attired as a warrior, but in a strange, almost alien style. She blinked for a moment, and realised that it was warrior garb from a thousand years ago.
"No," he said. "Not Berevain. For a moment, I thought...." The man jumped to his feet in one lithe motion, and held out his hand to her. She backed off and rose unaided. "You are Tirivail," he said. "I remember you now."
She flinched from the anger of the voice in her mind. She looked at the warrior, but it was not he who had spoken. She doubted that any mortal being could speak with so much anger. "Who is that?" she asked him.
He looked puzzled for a moment, and then he nodded, understanding. "You can hear them too, of course. They are our ancestors, or our Gods. They are arguing in the heavens even as we wage war here."
"We have no Gods," she said bitterly. He smiled, but did not speak. "War? Kats!" She spun on her heel and ran towards the observatory. The force of the blow that had struck her had knocked her clean out of the room. Kats was there, with the Inquisitor.
She came skidding to a halt. A wall of blue force filled the doorway. Behind it she could see the silhouettes of figures moving, as if dancing, or fighting. As she reached forward the skin on her hand began to creep, and she pulled back sharply.
"A barrier," said the warrior.
"Kats is in there!"
"So is Sinoval. Whoever he fights cannot have long to endure. Your lady is safe."
"I swore to protect her! I promised his ghost I'd keep her safe!"
"She is safe, my lady Berevain. Now, we have a war to fight. Our enemies are everywhere. If we are to liberate the prisoners, we will need all the help we can get."
"We? Who is 'we'? And who are...?" One of the aliens came into view, dark blood staining his pike. She recognised a Tak'cha when she saw one, then memory returned and understanding dawned, and she realised to whom she was speaking.
"You are Marrain."
His eyes flashed. "Marrain the Betrayer, my lady."
She looked back at the wall of force, and then at Marrain. She nodded once, and then followed him away from the battle.
* * *
"Then I guess I'll die."
* * *
William Edgars had heard numerous theories about what happened when you died. There was of course the ubiquitous 'life flashing before your eyes', that single moment stretching out into years. But he had always favoured the idea of nothingness - no pain, no fear, nothing at all.
He was wrong, as he discovered.
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen Death."
"I assume that word merits the capital letter. I do not disbelieve you, Senator Smith. Tell me what you have come here to tell me."
"There was a box. It was called the Apocalypse Box. It was a.... gateway of some kind, into somewhere else. Something came through. Death.
"I've seen aliens. I've been in space. I've seen and done terrible things, but nothing like that. I never used to believe in a God or the Devil, but if a Devil exists, that's it. It looked at me, and I could feel it inside my mind, examining me as if I were an insect.
"I was wondering if you knew what that thing was."
"The Apocalypse Box?"
"That was the name I knew it by."
"Four years ago our agents were excavating ancient ruins on an abandoned planet. They found various religious objects. One of them, a Mr. Eilerson, managed to decipher the symbols as the work of a cult that worshipped death, recording that death had visited them in the form of a spirit.
"After a great deal of searching they located the temple of this cult, and they found an orb there, the size of a large man's head. They brought it to me personally. I could see dark clouds hovering within it, and I could feel something not quite reaching out to me, just beyond my comprehension. I gave the orb to a colleague of mine called Morden. I didn't want the thing anywhere near me."
"Seedlings, they said. Objects planted in our galaxy through which they could return."
"I see....
"I see."
"Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these things could happen and your lords not know about it?"
"Perhaps. If Sinoval were...."
"No. He has no part of this."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. They.... they are angered by the thought of his name."
"Then.... no, they will know."
"I see. Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these creatures can be defeated?"
"No."
"Nor do I. I can feel them. They touched me, and I doubt that I will ever recover. Whatever they may do to me, I am still a man, and a man pays his debts. You have been good to me, and you have helped me. I know you had your own reasons for doing that, but you helped me all the same. I am going away, but I wanted to repay my debt to you first."
"The gun?"
"You do not want to be here when they come."
"I see. Thank you, Senator Smith. I will ensure you are not delayed on your way out.
"Miss Hampton. My guest will be leaving now. Ensure that he is not detained."
"Yes, sir."
"Cancel the rest of my appointments for today."
"Yes, sir."
"And.... may I take this opportunity to thank you for all you have done for me. I appreciate it, and I know I do not say this often enough."
"Sir? Is everything all right?"
"Yes. I am fine. I just need to.... think about something."
What really happens just before you die is that one single moment of your life is replayed before your eyes.
The woman was precisely one–and–a–half inches taller than him, and perhaps a year or two older. Not a great deal, but enough for a fourteen–year–old. She was wearing the uniform and the black gloves. She fiddled nervously with her badge, trying to make it sit exactly level.
"Do you think it looks all right?" she asked.
"It looks.... fine," he said, stuttering and hesitant.
She looked at him, and his throat went dry. He had known her when they were bo
th children, but then one day she had suddenly gone away. He had learned later that she had been taken in by Psi Corps. He had written, and she had replied.
It was the first time he had seen her in five years, and she seemed to him to be the most beautiful woman in creation.
She came slowly towards him, and he tilted his head, his heart pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. Their lips touched, and he was surprised by how soft and warm they were. He was not aware of anything else at all, nothing could have distracted him from that moment.
Then he felt it.
The merest touch at the front of his mind, like a tiny breath of wind in his face. He pulled back sharply.
"What?" she asked.
And then it hit him. She was a telepath. Everything about her.... was special. She was different - and not just different. She was better. She was superior.
She had something he would never have. She was superior to him, and she knew it.
He ran.
He just wished he could remember her name.
He just wished he had been able to apologise.
"Ah, well," he breathed, or perhaps he only thought the words.
The PPG fell from William Edgars' dead hand. His eyes were closed before it hit the floor.
* * *
We are your masters and your saviours.
The words hit them at the same time as they hit everyone else on the station, but for Sinoval and Sebastian they had a far deeper meaning. Sebastian stiffened the instant he heard them, snapping to attention with the instinct of centuries.
They were his masters, and his saviours. The words were simply accepted.
For Sinoval, lying stunned and near–comatose, the words came from a long way away, from far beyond the tidal wave of pain and shock that had swept over him. Stormbringer, his blade, the weapon into which he had poured his soul, was broken.
He had fallen on the field of battle. His weapon broken, his confidence shattered, blind and deaf and mute, he was unaware that Kats had fallen too. To him, the words that sounded in his mind were the confirmation of his defeat.
He was lost.
The words continued, Sebastian still standing stiff and to attention, Sinoval still dazed and paralysed, each man accepting them for what they were, the voice of the Vorlons triumphant and powerful.
And then came the human voice - an angry voice, furious, twisted by grief and rage. It sounded so very different from the calm precision of the Vorlon. It sounded irrational, discordant, off....
It sounded individual.
It sounded real.
It sounded free.
It sounded human.
Sebastian's face contorted into a mask of rage as he heard Sheridan shouting at his master and his saviour, daring to criticise the lord of Light, daring to oppose the reasoned logic, daring even to say that the vanquished Enemy had been triumphant....
.... had been wiser!
"What is this?" Sebastian asked. The voices continued, and he grew more and more enraged. "What is this?!"
Sinoval heard his words, but they were screamed from far away, no more real, or just as real as the others.
"This is your doing!" Sebastian roared. "This is your doing!"
Sinoval did not reply.
Nor did Kats, slumped against the wall, coughing blood and bad dreams while breathing though iron mesh.
* * *
All of them heard it. All of them saw it.
"Then I guess I'll die."
"I fear a lot of things. I'm afraid I'll never get to tell Delenn how sorry I am, or how angry I am. I'm afraid you'll carry on walking blind, destroying us all without realising it.
"And I'm afraid no one will actually learn any lessons from all this. That's the greatest weakness we 'ephemeral' beings have, you see. We don't learn from the past.
"But I'm not afraid of dying, and if the choice is death or kneeling before you and kissing your shiny encounter–suited boots, then I'd rather die."
The encounter suit opened, and the blazing light poured out.
The Vorlon spoke in a chill, precise, judicial tone.
* * *
They all saw it, and every one of them felt it.
Every single one of them died with him, for just a moment.
And then, as the pain receded, the anger began.
* * *
"Son of a bitch!" Susan roared. "You son of a bitch!"
The image stopped with that awful rush of pain through her body. The words faded, along with the powerful surge of emotion that had accompanied them. The anger remained of course. That was hers, not his.
"You worthless son of a bitch!"
That is the price of receiving what you asked for, spoke the eternally level voice of Lorien in her mind.
"They killed him! Just like that! Just because he wouldn't do what they said!"
Yes, they did. That, as was once said, is the problem with mortals. They tend to die.
"How can you be so bloody smug?"
Would anger help?
"Anger always helps."
You have not been close to him for many years. Both of you are very different people from when last you met. What was he to you that you grieve so?
"Listen. This isn't grief. This is anger."
I always believed the two to be one and the same.
"Not on your life. And it doesn't matter what I thought of him. God, I knew Anna. She was my friend, and she's dead as well. And he and I.... we once.... that's not the sort of thing you.... Dammit, I want to kill every last damned one of them!"
Yes, that is anger.
"Can't you help, or were you just going to stand there mouthing platitudes?"
I have done all I can, and I think you will find it was enough for now. As you will soon see. It was a pleasure to know you, Susan Ivanova. I go now with reason to feel proud. You have exceeded my highest expectations.
"What the...? Lorien, what...?"
Time returned, and with it a pause of a single second, and then the furious, shocked voice of the outmanoeuvred white Vorlon.
* * *
She did not cry.
She had thought she would cry. This was a moment she had thought about for many years.
This was war. It was a fact of war, a necessity of war, that people died.
He had been ill, some years ago. Terminally ill. She had been prepared for his death.
She could have cried then.
But not now.
As the Blessed Delenn of Mir watched General John Sheridan die, she found she could not cry at all.
She looked around at her companions, searching for their reactions. Na'Toth still stood guard at the door, weapon ready. Kulomani was continuing to work at his console. Perhaps neither of them had seen.
G'Kar's single eye was closed, and he was muttering a prayer in his own language. L'Neer clung tightly to him, and Delenn felt an intense pang of sympathy for the child. After all she had been through recently, this must all be so bewildering for her.
"It's a lie," hissed David's voice. She turned to look at him. Angry tears were pouring down his face. "It's a lie. It's all some trick...."
"A trick to demonstrate how lost they are?" Delenn asked coldly. "A trick to reveal to us their weaknesses, their foolish pride? No, this is no trick. It is real."
"I don't believe it."
"That is your prerogative. I know it is true. It has the feel of a real thing."
She stared at him, and she could see the betrayal in his eyes, the anger and the grief at the loss of a friend and a mentor. Why could she feel none of these things? Why could she feel....
.... nothing?
"It is done," Kulomani said. He had continued working throughout the conversation, throughout the blaze of light and the burst of pain, and throughout the d
ull, dead silence that had followed. Perhaps he had not heard.
"It is done," he said again. "I heard, and I saw, but I had a task, and it is done." His words were stronger than she had expected, but perhaps the visions had given him strength.
"You can talk to everyone on the station, to the fleets, to anyone you wish," he said. Then he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The sounds coming from his chest were chilling, but Delenn said nothing. She walked slowly over to one of the terminals and activated the newly–freed commpanel.
What to say?
What to say?
There were no words....
* * *
It is done. We are defeated.
No, Cardinal. We have won. We have slain their hope. We have killed the one who defied us, as you have killed those who would conspire against us.
It is done. We are defeated. You will not dispute me again.
Yes, Cardinal.
You have been a loyal servant, but loyalty is not a shield, and a hundred loyal acts do not outweigh one disloyal one. We are defeated.
Yes, Cardinal.
You wish to speak.
He is fallen, Cardinal. My prey. He is fallen. I have him.
This was his doing. They all watched, and they all saw our weakness. Anger is a flaw. They all saw this, and that was at his bidding. We have acted in anger once already this day. We shall not do so again. When he is to be destroyed, it shall be an act of purity. You have become too bound up with this one, our servant.
Yes, Cardinal. It is true.
We have been defeated this day. Not by war, nor by arms, but by ourselves. This is not a war for their worlds or their lands or their ships. This is a war for their hearts.
What are your orders, Cardinal?
We have shown them our power. Now we shall show them our mercy. We are creating a sanctuary here, a place of perfection. We desire only those who wish to stay. Those who wish to go may leave. They shall depart unmolested, but they shall be forevermore denied our sanctuary. We saved them from the Darkness, and if they choose to turn their backs on us, then so be it. All who depart this day shall be denied paradise.
He will not stop, Cardinal. He will continue to oppose us.
And we will destroy him - but not from anger. We will remove him because that must be done, and we shall do it in the correct manner, at the correct time. Let him depart.
A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 5 : The Three–Edged Sword addm-5 Page 13