2-Armies of Light & Dark

by Peter David

  “I’m so happy for the both of you,” Gwynn responded sarcastically . She turned to Vir and said, “Vir, you’re an ambassador . You’re a high-ranking official for the Centauri. You must tell them to cease the excavation immediately.”

  “Excellent idea,” said Vir. He paused. “And what reason should I give?”

  “That if they continue on this course, they will enable beings of great evil to obtain power that should not be theirs. This they will, in turn, utilize for wholesale death and destruction.”

  “They may not buy that,” Vir said.

  “Vir,” Kane said urgently, “time is not our friend.”

  “Then why don’t you stop this excavation! Conjure up some ghosts to scare the people away; they think the place is haunted as it is. Or just … just magic everyone back to Centauri Prime, to buy some time. I don’t know, something, anything.”

  “Our mandate is clear-we can only observe,” Gwynn said. As urgent as her plea had been, clearly she was the most aggressive stickler for protocol of all of them. “We act on behalf of each other, for mutual protection, but that is all we are supposed to do, unless we are otherwise instructed…”

  “As I was instructed to take steps to save Sheridan’s life, for example,” said Kane.

  “Okay, okay, fine,” said Vir with a growing lack of patience . “So if that’s the case, then why don’t you manage to go get some new instructions, okay? Just wave your … your magic wand, or whatever, to find out whether you can do something about the current situation. You know, the one involving all sorts of evil that could be unleashed on the galaxy while we’re standing here discussing the fine points of Techno-maging 101.”

  Kane did not seem amused. “My associates and I are endeavoring to inform the techno-mages of the present situation , but in the meantime-“

  “Endeavoring?” Vir looked at them questioningly. “What do you mean, `endeavoring’? Is there some problem?”

  The cloisters looked at each other with a combination of annoyance and uncertainty. “Our initial attempts to contact them have … fallen short,” Kane admitted.

  “Fallen short? How? How fallen short? How short, I mean?”

  “We’ve been unable to reach them,” Gwynn said flatly. “There is something about this place that interferes with our communications spells.”

  “Forget the spells! Pick up a phone! Use some standard means of communication!”

  “The techno-mages cannot be contacted through any `standard means.’ “

  “Oh, right, right,” Vir said sourly. “That’s a sign of just how advanced they are; you can’t reach them at all.”

  “We’ll keep trying,” said Kane. “In the meantime, you do what you can.”

  “Fine, fine, whatever,” Vir told them. “I’ll find out who’s in charge and use whatever authority I can to get things shut down, at least for a while. But I’m warning you right now, whoever’s running the dig probably isn’t going to take me all that seriously. Most people don’t.’

  Kane stepped forward and put his hands firmly on Vir’s arms. “We do. We take you most seriously, Vir. We have every confidence in you. If you can’t get this done, then no one can.”

  “No one can tell me what to do,” Renegar said.

  Renegar was the most jowly Centauri that Vir had ever seen. He was large and beefy, his hair cut unfashionably and defiantly short. He had thick lips, small eyes, and arms so powerful that they looked capable of snapping Vir in half with little to no difficulty. And when Renegar spoke, it was with a deep raspy voice that seemed to originate from his knees.

  He was, quite simply, not someone with whom Vir wanted any difficulties.

  Renegar sat behind his desk in his office, both of which seemed too small for him. There was a good deal of clutter about. Vir would never have known, to look at him, that this fellow was in charge of anything of any importance, let alone an excavation mandated by someone as highly positioned as Durla, the minister of internal security.

  “I’m not telling you what to do,” Vir assured him quickly.

  “That’s a relief,” said Renegar. He did not, however, sound relieved. He just sounded as annoyed as he had been when Vir had first come knocking on his door.

  “But certainly,” Vir continued gamely, “you must know that there’s something wrong on this world. You’ve had people disappearing from this project in alarming numbers.”

  “Centauri are soft.” There was clear disgust in his voice. “That’s always been our problem. Whenever any sort of difficulty is involved, we fold up. Call it quits. In some ways, you have to admire the Narn. Say what you want about them, but we conquered them and they still never quit. Took them years and years, but they fought for their freedom and obtained it. We wouldn’t fight for freedom. Someone conquered us, we’d roll over and die, and that would be that.”

  “I’m so pleased we’re having the opportunity to discuss this,” Vir said, “but it’s not exactly what I wanted to focus on right now, if that’s okay. People aren’t just leaving because they’re tired or bored or they’ve had enough. There is a great evil here, and your men are in terrible danger. Terrible, terrible danger.”

  “And you know this … how?” inquired Renegar.

  “Sources.”

  “What sort of sources?”

  Vir endeavored to remember just where Renegar was on the social scale. He drew himself up haughtily, or at least as close to haughtily as he could get, and informed Renegar, “The sort of sources who choose not to be identified at this time.”

  “So you can’t tell me.”

  “That is correct.”

  “And this great danger facing us … you can’t tell me about that, either.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “But I’m just supposed to halt work on this project, on your say-so. Tell me, Ambassador Cotto, do you know Minister Durla?”

  “I’ve … had some dealings with him, yes,” said Vir somewhat wryly.

  “Minister Durla, he’s not vague at all. He tells me exactly what he wants done, and exactly when he wants it done by. Because of that, I tend to listen to him. Have you taken this matter up with him?”

  “No.”

  “What do you think would happen if you did?”

  Dissembling was not one of Vir’s skills, learned or otherwise. “I doubt that he would be particularly amenable to listening to me.”

  “So why should I be more so?”

  “Because,” Vir said with unexpected vehemence, “you’re here and he’s not. Because he,” and he pointed in the general direction of Centauri Prime, many light-years away, “is not going to care about the lives of the people here. And I thought that perhaps, since you are directly in charge of them, you just might care. Look, while we’re talking here, going back and forth and around and around, the risk is growing with each passing minute. We’re running out of time. In fact, we may already be out of time. Don’t you understand? People aren’t just disappearing. They’re dying.”

  For just a moment, Renegar seemed slightly uncertain. Then his face, and hearts, hardened once more. “I have no proof of that.”

  “You have my word and the evidence of your own eyes: your populace is dropping. What else do you need?”

  And at that moment, lending support to Vir’s long-held notion that the Great Maker had a fairly perverse sense of humor, there was a sound of an explosion. It came from the direction of the excavation, but it was far more than just an explosion. It was as if the entire planet had been struck by a massive object, and nearly shattered by the impact. The office shook so violently that Vir didn’t have the slightest chance of retaining his footing. One moment he was standing, the next he was on his back. Renegar fared no better: his chair titled backward and spilled him to the ground.

  Oddly enough, there was some benefit to that happenstance , for a huge chunk of the ceiling came free and crashed down right where Renegar had been. It might not have been of sufficient weight or impact to kill him, but it certainl
y would have been enough to give him a concussion-or worse.

  Renegar, moving with surprising grace for one so large, tumbled out of his chair and scrambled to his feet. He looked at Vir with confusion, and Vir was pleased to see that-for the first time since they’d made each other’s acquaintance-Renegar didn’t seem smug or self-satisfied. Apparently Vir’s predictions of imminent disaster carried a bit more weight when disaster suddenly presented itself.

  All of Vir’s instincts told him that now was the time to get the hell out of there. To head back to the landing point where the techno-mages had surreptitiously landed their vessel, and get as far away from this world as humanly, or inhumanly, possible. Vir knew, however, that he had reached a point in his life where his instincts were going to be of no use whatsoever. The impulses for self-preservation, for acting with caution, those were going to have to be tossed aside. At this point, not only did Centauri Prime need more than that, but Vir needed more than that, as well. For there was no way, absolutely no way, that he could bring himself to follow his instinct and return to Babylon 5, hide in his quarters, pull the blanket over his head and ignore the darkness that had fallen upon his world and threatened his people. That was the trouble with knowing what lurks within the shadows, he realized. One can’t figure out where to look anymore. If you gaze into the shadows, you blanch at whatever may be in there looking back at you, and you jump as the shadows move. If you look into the light, not only are you blinded by its intensity, but also it serves to remind you that you should be doing everything you can to expunge the darkness. Light does not allow for excuses.

  “What’s … happening?” Renegar gasped out. The tremors were continuing, becoming more pronounced with each moment.

  And Vir began to detect a scent in the air. The smell of energy having been released, perhaps, or the aroma of ozone as if a massive lightning strike had occurred not far away. His back against the wall, Vir pushed with his feet and shoved his body to standing. He was surprised that, when he spoke, his voice was steady.

  “What’s happening?” Vir called over the rumbling, keeping himself standing upon unsteady feet. “I’ll tell you what’s happening. Exactly what I warned you would happen. Get out of here, if you know what’s good for you. Get off this planet. And you haul yourself back to Centauri Prime” -His voice became louder, more strident “and you tell Minister Durla that this entire business was a disaster. And you remember that Vir Cotto was the one who tried to warn you. Remember who your friends are, Renegar. It might save your life someday. Now go! Go!”

  Renegar’s head bobbled so loosely that for a moment Vir flashed back to Morden on the pike. Then, without another word, Renegar stumbled from the office. Vir followed him, but whereas Renegar headed in the direction of the spaceport, staggering as the ground bucked beneath him, Vir headed in the other direction.

  He had to see for himself. He had to know, firsthand, just what it was he was up against. So while his senses screamed at him to run the other way, he forced himself to head toward danger. It wasn’t difficult to figure out which way to go. There was a glow not far distant, and he could see discharges of energy flitting through the air, like static electricity.

  And there was a structure.

  He couldn’t quite make it out. It was, after all, in the heart of an excavation. But he could make out the upper reaches of it, and it seemed curved and …

  … and it was rising.

  Vir froze in his tracks, but not from the sight of the structure . Instead it was from the Centauri he saw lying on the ground nearby. To be exact, all he saw was the man’s upper half; the lower part of his body so horribly charred that it was almost unrecognizable as anything that had once been living. The man was basically dead, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with that fact yet. Through one good eye he saw Vir and he reached out in mute supplication.

  Vir realized that this was the very first test of his new bravery and resolve. For there was a large rock right nearby, and all hope was gone for this poor bastard. If Vir had any compassion within him, he would pick up the rock and use it to crush the head of the agonized Centauri.

  He reached for the small boulder, gripping it firmly, and stood over the prostrate form of the dying man. He raised his arms high over his head, looked down into the terrified expression of the fatally crippled Centauri.

  “I’m sorry” whispered Vir, as the rock slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. It thumped to the ground next to head of the Centauri, who had no idea what Vir had been about to do, or indeed not too much of an idea about anything at that point.

  Vir stumbled back and away as the ground continued to tremble. He stepped over a small outcropping of rock that had blocked his view moments before … and there were more Centauri in various states of dismemberment. There were also more, far more, who were simply charred corpses. Vir shut his ears to the agonized cries all around him and kept moving, trying to convince himself that the immediate danger was past. That whatever had happened to these unfortunate souls had occurred at the instant that the energy had been released.

  What had released that energy, however, or what had set it off, he could not even begin to guess.

  Then there was more rumbling beneath Vir’s feet, but he suddenly realized that its point of origin was, in fact, overhead . Something was dropping from the sky, something huge. At that moment there was so much smoke and fog, released from the energy discharge, that he couldn’t quite make out anything beyond large, nebulous shapes. They were drawing closer, however, with each passing moment. Drakh ships, said a voice in his head, and he had no idea how he had known it. But once the thought was there, he knew it to be true.

  Vir looked around, hoping that one of the cloister techno-mages would suddenly pop into existence, stepping from the corner of his eye into full view. They weren’t forthcoming, however, and a panicked thought went through his mind. What if they’re gone? What if they were too near the site and somehow they were killed when the … the whatever-it-was … was released?

  He tried to tell himself that such a happenstance was impossible . That these were techno-mages, after all. Then he reminded himself that they were, in fact, cloisters. That they weren’t necessarily possessed of all the learning and knowledge of a techno-mage. A genuine techno-mage, after all, need not fear anything …

  If they’re not afraid of anything, why did they run away? Why did they leave known space?

  For Vir, who was seeking so many answers to try and make sense of the universe around him, this was the most easily answered question of all.

  Because they’re smarter than you are.

  Though he knew full well the stupidity of his actions, Vir kept moving. It was almost as if he had been seized by a compulsion to prove something to himself. He had, after all, failed that first test. He’d left a fellow Centauri to go through the last dregs of a tortured death. But there were others like him; what was he supposed to do, bash in all their heads? Since when had he become the lord high executioner of Centauri Prime?

  This, though … this he could do. This was something he had to do. Just keep one foot moving in front of another, keep going, see what’s ahead, and ignore what’s above. He kept issuing orders to himself. Just keep going. One doesn’t have to be exceptionally brave to keep moving. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  There were more vessels coming in from overhead, and in his mind he actually swore he could hear something that sounded like … singing. Many voices joined as one, and he couldn’t understand the words on any sort of intellectual level. On a gut level, even a spiritual level, the voices and words chilled him to his soul. They seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, all at once, and somehow he knew that they were originating from those rapidly approaching vessels.

  There were large arrays of rubble ahead of him, and he realized that they were the remains of buildings that had been at the edge of the dig. He clambered over them, trying not to think about people who might be buried beneath, knowing that th
ere was nothing that he could do for them other than prolong their agony. He had never felt more helpless.

  Once again he felt as if he was simply a pawn in some greater game that he could not even begin to imagine. A slow anger began to build in him. Under ordinary circumstances, it was the kind of feeling he would have tried to bury entirely, for to acknowledge such feelings or-even worse-act upon them could lead to disaster. He had acted on behalf of others before, particularly during the crisis with the Narn, but he had done so in secret, praying that he wouldn’t be caught, and the risks that his actions had entailed were in the abstract. If he had gotten caught aiding the Narn, then there would be unfortunate consequences. This danger, however, was in the here and now, and it might very well have been that the greater immediacy further inflamed Vir’s emotions.

  He wanted to be angry, because emotional fatigue could only carry one so far. He wanted to be angry enough to see the day through, to put a stop to whatever this … fearsome, loathsome influence over Centauri Prime was. It was anger that carried him over the rubble, though he fell several times and thoroughly banged himself up. It was anger that drove him to ignore the fact that the techno-mages appeared to have vanished. It was anger that made him look up and curse at the dark vessels, which he did not recognize, as they skimmed lower over the planet’s surface. It was anger that ultimately brought him to the edge of the excavation.

  It was a violent surging of stark-staring fear that bolted him to the spot.

  “A jumpgate,” he whispered.

  Which was true as far as it went. It was a jumpgate unlike any Vir had seen before. The thing was massive, having now risen out of the ground, apparently after being buried deep beneath it. The structure itself was so dark that it seemed to absorb the light from overhead. Rather than the smooth, even edges of a standard jumpgate, this was jagged and irregular, as if the architect had embraced chaos over symmetry and elegance of form.