Invoking Darkness (30 page)

"I'm sorry, I'm not quite awake. Are you saying Stephen is avoiding this area for some reason?"

"I think he's preparing himself to enter it. I think he's going to enter it soon, very soon. And when he does – I think we better be there to meet him. A lot of innocent people live there."

John shook his head.

"You don't think Stephen's dangerous."

Galen withdrew the comp-pad.

"No. I just have this feeling that something big is about to happen. Something really big."

John's face fell into lines of concern.

"I do too."

Galen stood. He had planted his idea. It was up to John to make the connection, and to fight the battle. It was not his place to do good.

"I better go. And you should get to bed."

"Thanks for the update."

Slowly John gathered up the reports on his lap, flaring his eyes several times to try to keep them open.

"Any news on that techno-mage who attacked Londo?"

"No. I've got a couple men on Londo, though he doesn't know it. The ambassador got himself a ridiculous disguise and slipped into Down Below. It's hard not to root for the techno-mage."

"Whatever he's up to, I just hope he leaves before we have to arrest him, or worse."

Galen nodded and started out of the office.

"It's too bad we don't have some techno-mages fighting on our side."

Galen stopped and turned back to him.

"Yes," he said "It is."

Galen watched through security cameras as the false Kosh left the docking bay where his ship was kept and glided down the nearly empty corridors toward his quarters.

As the Shadows concealed their appearance, so did the Vorlons. This one was shrouded in a dark encounter suit, black mottled with blue and red. A long, sleek shell encased his "head," a single red light serving as an eye. The cloth curtaining his body shifted only slightly as he moved.

Galen had read conflicting accounts of the Vorlons' true form; the most credible of those who had seen Vorlons described them as beings of light. Others spoke in awestruck tones of the Vorlons' godlike appearance, an image the Vorlons cultivated to generate unquestioning faith and obedience.

This false Kosh, Galen knew, was brutal and unbending. Ulkesh offered John Sheridan's alliance no support, and he'd terrorized and abused his aide from the day he'd arrived on Babylon 5. Ulkesh would not want to help Galen. The Vorlons had always despised the techno-mages, for good reason.

The mages were creations of the Shadows, their ancient enemies. More than that, what would beings of light possibly want to do with beings of darkness?

If Kosh offered him help, then Kosh was the exception. Yet Ulkesh held his only chance of reaching Z'ha'dum, of doing what he must do. When John had demanded Kosh's help in the war, Kosh had attacked him in anger. Kosh had struck only to frighten, though, not to kill. Galen didn't know whether Ulkesh would be similarly restrained. But he could not get into a fight with the Vorlon. He simply needed Ulkesh's assurance that the Vorlons would not stand in his way. Then he would go.

If Ulkesh refused, still he would go. He had no choice. And if the Vorlons came for him on the rim, he would not fight them. Galen added a second mind-focusing exercise to the one already working through its orderly progression.

He had to maintain discipline to sense any telepathic intrusion Ulkesh might attempt. From what little he knew, he believed the mental powers of a Vorlon extremely strong, far stronger than those of a telepath like Bunny.

Yet Kosh seemed to believe Galen had the ability to stop Ulkesh. He must be ready to react instantly. He could not betray the mages' hiding place. Ulkesh was drawing closer. No one else was near. Galen stepped out of the cross-hallway to block Ulkesh's path. The curtained figure stopped a few feet away, the sleek head inclining, the red eye fixing on him. His whispering voice resonated with echoes upon echoes.

"You stink of Shadows."

"I am a friend of Kosh," Galen said.

"We are all Kosh," Ulkesh said.

"Then I am a friend to you all."

"No," Ulkesh said.

"Last year, I met with Kosh. He said he would help me fight the Shadows. He would allow me to reach Z'ha'dum and tell me how to penetrate its defenses. Now I return for the information, and you stand in his place. Will you give what he promised?"

"No," Ulkesh said.

"Do you protect the Shadows?"

"No," Ulkesh said.

"Then why won't you help me?"

"You cannot fight yourself."

Galen let out a breath. Perhaps there was no difference between him and the Shadows. They both desired chaos and death. If the task was to fight himself, though, Galen believed he was well prepared. That was all he'd been doing for the past two years.

"Only like can fight like," he replied.

Ulkesh's head shifted, the single red eye regarding him more closely.

"As you fight, you spread the maelstrom."

"I desire only to find two of my kind who serve the Shadows, and to kill them. They are on Z'ha'dum. If we destroy one another, will that not serve order?"

"Where are the rest?"

"They are dead. Killed by the Shadows."

"Lies."

Galen frantically searched his mind. He sensed no disturbance to his exercises, no sense of intrusion. But how did Ulkesh know?

"You are an abomination."

Ulkesh swept past him, continued down the corridor. Galen realized he would not convince the Vorlon with words. Ulkesh was certain he had all the answers, and Galen must show him otherwise. Galen visualized the equation, conjured an illusion of himself standing where he stood. He retreated down the cross-corridor, accessed the security camera to observe what happened. He composed words for his image to speak, as if writing a message.

The illusion spoke.

"If I can destroy two of the Shadows' greatest weapons, is that not good?"

Ulkesh turned to face his image.

"No good can come of you."

"Do Kosh's wishes mean nothing? Do you believe no good can come from them either?"

The red eye built rapidly to brilliance, and with a flash, a pulse of energy shot down the hall. It passed through the illusion, burned into the wall. Galen dissolved his image, stepped from the cross-corridor into sight.

"We can surprise you," he said.

Ulkesh's red eye shifted to him, held there. Then the Vorlon turned and glided away.

* * *

Dinner for two had been brought in, and Anna and Justin sat across from each other at the large table with the rigid chairs. A small flame burned between them.

Justin had explained it was for decoration. According to Earth custom, the food must be eaten with small tools. Anna manipulated them carefully. Three liberators stood to one side, watching.

"Please, Anna," Justin said, playing the role of John Sheridan, "tell me what happened to you on Z'ha'dum. Why was your ship reported destroyed? Why didn't you contact me in all this time?"

Anna took a careful sip of her tea. They had practiced again and again. She knew what she needed to say. She knew the facts of this archaeologist woman's life, and she had connected some of those facts to images in her mind. The difficulty came in saying the words as Justin wanted her to say them. She must perform gestures as she spoke, vary the tone of her voice, shift her gaze periodically, and convey different expressions. The communication seemed needlessly complex. She set down her cup.

"I know there's a lot that you don't know. I know there's a lot you don't understand. I'm here to fix that."

She grasped his wrinkled hand, met his gaze, and smiled. The expression involved a deformation of her facial skin, which carried a limited flexibility much inferior to her machine skin. The tension in her muscles felt strange. Justin shook his head.

"Your smile still isn't right, Anna. You need to look at John as if you love him."

Anna didn't understand what the word love meant to Humans, who lived such pathetic lives, but Justin had grown frustrated trying to explain it to her.

"Try thinking of something pleasant. That may help."

Anna imagined how it would feel to be in control of the Eye – to coordinate, to synchronize, to strike. Her face shifted.

"Good, Anna. That's it. That's how you must look at John."

She continued.

"Don't you want to know what it's about? What it's really all about? I can do that. All you have to do is come with me."

"Where?" Justin said.

"Where else? To Z'ha'dum."

Justin tried to pull his hand away, and Anna tightened her grip. He had told her that as she touched John, she gained control over him.

"No, no, Anna. When John tries to pull away, you have to release him. You can't force him to do what you want. You must convince him."

She released Justin's hand, frustrated by the weak, indirect method of control he was teaching her. It did not come naturally. She forced herself to smile.

"I can guarantee your safety. They're eager to meet you. It's just a simple invitation. Come and hear their side of the story. Nothing more."

"I have to know what they've done to you," Justin said. "What you've been doing all these years. First tell me that. What happened to the Icarus?"

"I thought we were going to study the ruins of an ancient civilization. But when we arrived, we discovered that the civilization wasn't dead at all. We found a very advanced alien race. They were quite approachable."

Those were the liberators, Anna thought, her gaze shifting to their brilliant pinpoint eyes. But she didn't like the word approachable. The liberators were wise, brilliant, wondrous, and terrifying. She looked back at Justin.

"Our ship, the Icarus, had an accident. The crew was killed, com system destroyed."

"Anna – remember what we talked about. You must look sad when you talk about the accident. That is what John would expect from his wife."

Although Anna knew some of the facts of the archaeologist woman's life, she knew none of the thoughts or feelings. What desires she might have had, what dreams, Anna couldn't imagine. With her weak body, her pale, lifeless sensations, her expedition, and her accident, she had known nothing of the real joys of life. She had never danced among the nighttime clouds. She had never shrieked an oratorio of evolution through bloodshed.

Anna arranged her face, tried again.

"Our ship, the Icarus, had an accident. The crew was..."

"Let's try something else. Sometimes, when people are sad, they will turn away, to hide their sadness. Why don't you do that? Begin the story, then stand and turn away. And speak more slowly."

First Justin had told her the face must show sadness. Now he said she must hide her face. A question occurred to her.

"Why can't I just tell John the truth? That the liberators freed my potential and joined me with the machine?"

She found herself growing excited about the idea. She could describe that to John much better than the deaths of some inconsequential Humans.

"I could teach him the true greatness of the liberators, and explain the joys of the machine, the beauty of it, towering dark in the vault of the universe."

"No, Anna. John must not know that."

He paused.

"The more he knows about our ships, the more of your sisters he will be able to destroy. Try the accident."

She stood and turned away. "The crew was killed, com system destroyed. Those of us who survived had no way to tell Earth what had happened. And even if we could have, the aliens had just come out of hibernation. They were vulnerable. They couldn't risk exposure to outsiders. So they made a deal: In exchange for our silence, they let us study their technology."

One of the technicians came in, and Justin pushed himself up with his cane.

"Anna, let me introduce you to the Minbari ambassador, Delenn."

Anna came around the table, extended her hand as she had been taught.

"Hello. I'm Anna Sheridan. John's wife."

The technician shook her hand, silently nodding. Justin had told her that Delenn was the greatest threat to her control of John. John was close to taking Delenn as his new wife. The Minbari already had partial control of him. Anna must break that control without killing Delenn, must break it by planting doubt, by proving that she loved John more than the Minbari did.

Anna would assert herself as the wife, the one with power over John – just as she would later overcome the one at the center of the Eye and take control of that glorious machine.

"I need to talk to Delenn," Justin said.

Anna modulated her voice to convey displeasure.

"After five years, we can't have dinner together? Let her go, John. You can talk to her later. This should be a moment for us."

"You're right. We'll talk later, Delenn," Justin said, and the technician's thick fingers fluttered anxiously.

He left. Anna came close to Justin, laid a hand against his cheek.

"You said that Delenn and Kosh told you I was dead. Delenn has misled you again and again. For her own reasons. Selfish reasons. It's time to learn the truth." Justin nodded, stepped back.

"Good, Anna."

"It would be much simpler to kill her."

"But then John would hate you, and he would never come with you to Z'ha'dum."

"You said he loved me."

"His feelings could change. He loves Delenn too."

It angered her that Delenn had gotten so much power. The archaeologist woman was John's wife. Delenn had no place. Anna would gain control of John subtly, by proving herself superior to Delenn, the way she and her sisters had once convinced a planetary ruler to join the side of chaos by hovering over his major cities.

She was eager to meet this powerful nexus, her husband. He had been chosen to have his potential freed, just as she had been. He would team the joys of chaos; she would help to show him the way. And then she would have what she wanted. Justin sat.

"You're getting better every time. Let's continue. We have more work to do, and not much time. Soon we'll be leaving for Babylon 5."

With a smile, Anna took her seat.