Babylon 5 16 - Techno-Mages 01 - Casting Shadows (Cavelos, Jeanne)

by Casting Shadows (Cavelos, Jeanne)

  At 7:10 A.M., Ko'Dan declared victory. He had created the "perfect breen, one unparalleled in the annals of culinary history." As he sat down at the table with a bottle of wine to treat himself, Galen and Isabelle broke again into laughter, for no particular reason. Just looking at her made him laugh now. He rested his elbows on the counter, gasping for air, and Isabelle did the same beside him. Her arm touched his as it shook. After a few moments, her hand closed around his.

  The laughs dropped away as he turned toward her, and she turned toward him as well, her grey eyes alight, mouth caught between gasping and laughing. He drew in a deep breath, feeling a connection to her he had never felt with anyone else. The tightness inside him again swelled, and as she gasped for air so did he, shocked with the intensity of his love for her.

  "You must try a piece," Ko'Dan called.

  "I can't take all of this incredible breen for myself."

  They began to laugh again. She squeezed his hand and released it, and they sat with Ko'Dan at the table. Ko'Dan their glasses he said,

  "For new love and old love."

  He nodded toward the portrait of his mate and drank.

  "I moved here to get away from all memory of her. Yet it is in my memory of her that I find the most joy."

  As Ko'Dan's gaze lingered on the portrait, Galen wondered what he would do if he ever lost Isabelle. He wouldn't, he decided. They would die together, as his parents had. He wouldn't let her leave in alone.

  By 8 A.M., Ko'Dan had made enough of his "perfect breen" to satisfy his appetite, with plenty remaining to comprise the gift for the Narn captain. He gave them the excess as "samples," reminding than again of the keys to making great breen. They left the remaining ingredients for Ko'Dan, and he bid them happiness and long life. At the door, Isabelle. hesitated.

  "Have you ever been to a fortune-teller?" "A strange question," Ko'Dan said.

  "I went only once, the night I met Na'Rad. I asked if she might ever love me. The fortune-teller said yes, ii' l bathed more often! I was bathing three and four times a day until she agreed to mate with me." Isabelle smiled.

  "Was there a reason you chose that particular fortune-teller?"

  Ko'Dan's eyes narrowed in curiosity.

  "This teller was not well known, but I passed her table every day in the market. It was unadorned with the trappings used by so many - the lace, the cards, the nonsense. Those things came from the Centauri influence. Because of that, I suppose, I felt she could be trusted."

  Galen exchanged embarrassed glances with Isabelle. They should have researched the tradition more thoroughly.

  "I know of no fortune-tellers here," Ko'Dan said.

  "Did you want to consult one?"

  "I was curious," Isabelle said.

  "One look and I can tell you two will be very happy together," he said.

  "Thank you," she said.

  When he closed the door, they both laughed again, for no particular reason, then began racing toward the tube with their precious gift of breen. Morning had come, and as they dodged through the cold busy streets, Galen found he could not stop smiling.

  Chapter 10

  In four hours, the Khatkhata would continue its journey to the rim.

  Sitting again at the table in the hotel lounge, this time without the lace, the pedestal, or the fortune cards, Galen watched through the lobby probe as two more Narns checked out and left for the ship. Only two now remained in the hotel, Captain Ko'Vin and the second-in-command, G'Leel. Only two more chances to pull information from the Narns before they left.

  The container of breen was now with Cadmus, who was nervous about the gift and afraid he'd be blamed for whatever it contained. Yet he was so relieved to see the Narns leave, that his complaints had been only halfhearted.

  An overweight woman in a brightly colored top anal pants wove among the scattered lunch patrons, heading toward their table. She wasn't a best of the hotel, though Galen had seen her in the lounge the day before, also at lunch.

  Isabelle was preoccupied, watching G'Leel through the probe in her hotel room. Galen knew Isabelle still hoped the second-in-command with the knife scar across her nose would stop to have her fortune told. She often looks toward us when she's in the bar, Isabelle had said. But she won't come over with the others around. Isabelle's hands were folded tightly, her thumbs tapping a nervous rhythm against each other.

  The overweight woman stopped at their table.

  "Do you tell fortunes?"

  Isabelle had done all the fortune-telling thus far. She stopped her thumb tapping to shoot a pointed look at him, raising her eyebrows.

  "Yes," Galen said.

  "We do. Please sit down."

  The woman remained standing.

  "How much does it cost?"

  Burell had told them that most people would not believe a fortune-teller unless they had to pay. A fee too low encouraged doubt.

  "Five credits," Galen said.

  She nodded and opened her small handbag, pressing it into her stomach as she searched carefully through the ragged papers inside. Galen studied her anxiously.

  He understood the mechanics of gathering information on people, but he often drew the wrong conclusions from that information. At least, his conclusions were often contrary to Isabelle's. Her "predictions" seemed to come out of the blue, yet her customers invariably expressed amazement at their accuracy.

  Of course, Galen knew that if people expected to find a relationship between two things - between their lives and the predictions of a fortune-teller, for example-then they would find a relationship. They would ignore ten off-base statements and focus on the one that most connected to their concerns, astonished by the accuracy of the fortune-teller. But he wondered if he would be able to make that one correct statement.

  He had practiced fortune-telling only a handful of times in the past, preferring to focus on the tech and its abilities rather than on a performance talent that even a nonmage could develop. Since the main qualities needed for fortune-telling were showmanship and an understanding of Human nature, Galen wasn't terribly good at it.

  The woman handed her credit chit to him. He pushed it into the credit reader on the table, watched as her name and account number came up on the display. He visualized the equation for information access, then ran her name and number through various databases.

  She sat. He deducted five credits from her card and returned it. She slipped it carefully into her handbag.

  Her name was Mary Stein. She was married, forty-six years old. Galen quickly retrieved her financial records. She had 117 credits in her account.

  "I'd like you to take a deep breath. Clear your mind. That's it."

  In his mind, Elric berated him for weak presentation. Galen took a moment, focused on his voice.

  "Look" -he extended his hand conjuring a sphere- "into this globe of light. In it, time lines converge. The past, the present, the future."

  His hands made a flourish around the globe. She stared into it. Galen was going to skip over the rest of her financial information when he found that shed had twelve thousand credits in her account up until two weeks ago. The money had been withdrawn in one lump sum. The next day, her husband's name had been removed from the account. He searched for marriage and divorce records.

  "You are troubled" he said.

  "You have a difficult decision to make."

  Most people were troubled and those who sought out fortune-tellers, even more so. It was a safe opening.

  "Yes," she said surprised.

  "I don't know what to do."

  She'd been a citizen of Zafran 8 for the last nineteen years. Records showed three marriages, the first two ending in divorce.

  "You are troubled financially, and you are troubled in love."

  "It's not the money I care so much about"

  She turned from the globe to him.

  "It's my husband."

  Her face puffed out, and she burst out sobbing.

  Galen snatched a napkin fr
om a neighboring table and madly searched for records on the husband. Albert Stein was a bartender at a restaurant just down the street. He had been married three times as well, though Galen found no record of divorces. There was a warrant for his arrest on Earth. He had stolen money from his second wife and left the planet.

  Mary delicately blotted her eyes.

  Galen found that Albert had purchased passage off-world on a ship that had left yesterday. He had taken her money and abandoned her.

  Galen could see why Mary was angry with him.

  "Your husband has stolen from you and mistreated you. Now he is far from here. He should pay for what he has done, but it will be a difficult struggle for you to obtain justice."

  Now Mary was shaking her head.

  "I don't want justice. I want my husband back. Can I get him back?"

  She seized his hand.

  "Please, can I get him back?"

  Galen wished her attention would return to the globe. He was uneasy with the intensity of her need, and didn't know what to say. Getting her husband back was obviously the worst thing that could happen to her. He did quick checks on her previous two husbands, found that they too had criminal records. The divorce proceedings revealed that they had been unfaithful to her, had stolen from her.

  "You will not get him back. He cares more for money than for you, and now that he has yours, he has moved on."

  Her sobbing returned with renewed force, her hand hot and tight about his. Galen noticed that Isabelle's attention was focused now on him.

  "Why does this keep happening to me?" Mary said.

  What could he say? His tone came out more distant than he intended.

  "You fall in love with men who do not love you. You will continue to fall in love, and men will continue to break your heart. Your life will not change. She released his hand and shot to her feet, knocking her chair over.

  "He did love me. Who are you to say? Who are you?"

  She staggered out of the lounge, her arm with the handbag extended, searching for balance. The other patrons stared at her. Galen berated himself. She had enough problems as it was. He would have gone after her, except he knew he would only make things worse. He didn't understand people. He never had. Isabelle continued to stare at him.

  "I know," Galen said.

  "I'm terrible with people. I should be locked away in a laboratory somewhere."

  "How do you know," Isabelle said, "that she cannot change?"

  "People are what they are."

  Galen took the crumpled napkin, looked toward the: door.

  "She has married three husbands who abused her trust. She will not change. I am bad with people. I will not change."

  "You don't believe people can transcend themselves? That they can learn and grow and become greater than they once were?"

  "I believe we can learn. But I believe, at base, we will always be the same."

  "I believe that people can transcend themselves," Isabelle said.

  "In fact, I believe the universe is designed for the express purpose of helping them do so."

  Galen turned to her.

  "Are you saying you believe in God?"

  "If God is what we call the m ind who designed the universe, yes."

  The death of his parents had taught him that there was no God.

  "But how can you believe in God? We simulate miracles. We create the appearance of magic. We, more than any others, know that no true magic exists."

  "The true magic," Isabelle said, "is science. Science reveals a consistency, a design underlying all things. I sec evidence of God every day, in every thing. This universe did not arise by chance. There is a pattern. It is a pattern I would like to learn to weave."

  "But the existence of scientific laws doesn't mean there has to be a God. Matter itself dictates them."

  "What is matter but an expression of God?"

  Debating the existence of God with Isabelle-as doing anything with her - carried an element of pleasure. But the topic was one that had always made him uncomfortable. Even angry. Had God they killed his parents to fulfill some cosmic pattern? The tech within him echoed his anger, surging with agitating energy. He enunciated harshly.

  "Would you admit that perhaps you see a pattern to events because you believe there is a pattern to events, just as the customer of the fortune-teller sees truth in the telling?"

  She smiled.

  "I see a pattern, dear Galen, because there is one. That woman keeps meeting men who would take advantage of her because the universe is trying to help her see and overcome her problem. Just as the universe sent her to you to help you overcome your problem."

  "The universe is some sort of vast dating service, then?"

  She raised her eyebrows, considering the idea.

  "Perhaps."

  "What problem?"

  Galen asked, catching up with her.

  "Are you saying I need to transcend myself?"

  Isabelle's eyes shifted to the door.

  "She's here."

  G'Leel stood in the doorway of the lounge, looking back into the lobby. Galen could see, through the lobby probes, that it was empty except for Cadmus Wilcox. The lounge had a handful of patrons still eating lunch, but no Narns. G'Leel approached.

  She wore a sleeveless tunic, pants, and gloves all of black leather, with a gun case fastened at her waist. Her gold-and- black spotted arms were sharply defined with muscle. As she walked, each shoulder moved forward in turn. Her posture was stiff, erect. Her knuckles came down on the edge of the table.

  "I hear you read futures."

  "Yes," Isabelle said.

  "Please have a seat."

  G'Leel righted the chair that had been knocked over by Mary Stein, turning it so the back faced the table.

  "A satisfied customer, I see."

  She straddled it, the back forming a short wall between them and her.

  "We tell the truth," Isabelle said, "rather than what people want to hear. Some do not wish to know the truth."

  "Most, in my experience," G'Leel said, and Galen realized Isabelle had said exactly the right thing.

  "Are you techno-mages?"

  "Yes. We devote our lives to knowing everything that can be known."

  "And how do you know all that?"

  The scar across her nose was a line of white interrupting the golden tan of her skin.

  "Through methods secret to our order. Methods of science, and technomancy."

  G'Leel pulled her credit chit from a black leather an band around her biceps and handed it to Isabelle.

  "I liked you better the first day you came, before you brought all that silliness"

  She flicked her fingers at the table.

  "I'm glad to you've gotten rid of it"

  "Some people require the trappings to believe. Just as some need to pay to believe."

  Isabelle handed back the card without deducting any credits. An expression passed over G'Leel's face that Galen couldn't identify.

  "Let's get on with it, then. Tell me my future."

  Galen set his sensors to record, so that any information they received could be passed on to the Circle.

  "I can tell you only your possible futures. You must decide which one you will choose."

  "So that's how you get out of it."

  "You are at a moral crossroads, as we both know, G'Leel."

  G'Leel's lips tightened. Isabelle did not take her hands, since G'Leel would likely see that as silliness. Her head tilted slightly down, Isabelle fixed G'Leel with her gaze.

  "You profit by bringing materials and people to the rim. These resources are being used to build a huge war machine, a war machine that will take the lives of billions if not stopped. You do your work and collect your generous pay, and you tell... to do with you. But you know that is not true. You hear whispers of what is being done. You see hints of what is to come. You see the materials you bring; you know to what use they might be put. You see forces gathering, and you know that at some point the gatherin
g must stop, and the movement must begin."

  G'Leel's gloved hands were clenching the back of the chair.

  "You have two choices. You can continue to support those who seek the deaths of billions. You are then as responsible for what happens as they are. That blood is on your hands. Or instead, you can fight there, do what you can to stop this before it is too late."

  The back of the chair broke off in G'Leel's hands. She looked down at it in shock, as if it were some alien artifact that had appeared out of nowhere. She stood and slammed it down on the table. Hunching over them, she spat whispers at Isabelle.

  "And what am I supposed to do? How can I stop this great movement?"

  "You can stop it," Isabelle said, "with the help of others. You can stop it by telling us everything you know."

  G'Leel's red eyes widened, and for a few moments she remained over them, breathing hard. Then she sat.

  "Why is he staring at me that way?"

  G'Leel jerked her chin in Galen's direction.

  "With those big eyes. Doesn't he ever blink?"

  "He looks that way at everyone," Isabelle said.

  "He examines everything as if his life depends on it."

  Galen, mystified at this turn in the conversation, averted his gaze. He felt the familiar discomfort that others saw in him things of which he was unaware.

  "I don't mean to offend."

  "He can talk as well," G'Leel said.

  Galen stared back at her.

  "And you can delay with foolishness."

  Galen raised his hands, conjured a globe of light between them.

  "The last time these dark forces moved across the galaxy, scores of intelligent species were exterminated; tens of billions died. Narn itself came under attack, and all the Narn mind walkers were killed. How long will it be before the Narn home world is again under attack?"

  Within the globe, Galen conjured an image he had previously designed: the city of Ka'Pul on the Narn home world, its massive, plain stone structures tinted copper by the red sun. Narns moved between the buildings, going about their business. Yet as the vision drew closer, some of the Narns stopped, looked up at the sky. One let out a cry.