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

by Gareth D. Williams

  It was at that point that an Imperial Courier entered the throne room. His face was ashen white.

  "Majesty," he said. "There is bad news."

  The humans had a saying Londo had heard. He had never really understood it until now.

  It never rains but it pours.

  * * *

  Whispers from the Day of the Dead — II

  There was no understanding, no wisdom, no intelligence, no plan. Nothing.

  There was only the dead, and they were everywhere, hundreds of faces, looking at him, screaming at him. Some of them he knew were dead, Mary, Michael, his parents. Some he did not know for sure, Susan, Lyta, Lianna. There were many faces he did not know at all, human, Minbari, even Drakh, people he had killed in the war.

  David Corwin did not even remember why he had come to Brakir. He did not remember much of anything he had done these past months. He did remember that last day, the day he would mark down as being the one on which his sanity had snapped, and the walls around his world had begun to tumble down.

  First had come the news that Mary had died. A tumour, something as simple as that. Random chance, nothing more. No dark fate, no hideous whim of some omnipotent being. Just simple natural causes.

  Then his ship had been destroyed. Scuttled, was the official report. Too much combat damage to remain viable. He had heard Carolyn's last scream and now he knew she was alone forever. He had not seen her here today. She was definitely dead, but also not dead. She would be alive and screaming for eternity, trapped in the void the Vorlons had created.

  The next day he had left Kazomi 7, left the Alliance and just gone, seeking something out there that would make sense.

  Sometimes, in his more lucid moments, he recalled an old story he had heard, of a fisherman who had grown sick of the sea. He had planned to take his oars and walk inland carrying them, until he reached a place where no one knew what he was carrying.

  Corwin was carrying something much heavier than oars, and he could not put them down, as everyone had recognised what it was he was carrying.

  Particularly everyone here.

  "You've got to be one of the good guys, 'cause there's way too many of the bad," one of the dead said to him. "I told my son that. Do you think he listened?"

  "Go away," he said. "You're dead."

  "Yeah? Yeah, you're right. But that doesn't make me wrong. You'd have agreed with me once. There's too many of the bad out there."

  "Yes, there are. And they're too big, and they're too strong, and we can't touch them. None of us can. What's the point in being one of the good guys? We can't win."

  "That's exactly the point. We can't win if everyone talks like that."

  "Was it worth it? Was it all worth it? You've left behind your wife, your son, everything.... Was it worth it?"

  "Ah.... I don't know, really. But I do know this. If I'd backed out, if I hadn't been one of the good guys, I wouldn't have been able to look either of them in the face again."

  "Go away. You're dead."

  "By the looks of it, you will be soon as well. You could have been a lot more than this."

  "Go away."

  "I'm not angry with you. I should be, but I'm not. Just think for one second, will you? Just think."

  There were more, countless thousands of Minbari, skin sloughing from their faces, eyes dull and hollow, poisoned and sickened and dying, all a result of what he had done. Him, and people just like him. They had been good men, the people who had attacked Minbar. Some of them had wives and children and families. They watched sport and played with their sons, and read stories and played cards.

  They were all just like him. All of them. He had done it.

  He could not look into their eyes. He could not even bear to look at any of them. He had not imagined the Day of the Dead would be like this.

  He did not know if he slept at all, if it had all been a dream, but there had been a long delirium and then light had touched his eyes, the light of the sun rising. He stirred from the place were he had lain, and looked up to see someone standing over him. It was a Minbari woman, another of the thousands.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please...." Tears were rolling down his dirt-streaked face. "Please."

  "There is nothing to be sorry about," the woman said, in flawless English. "May I sit?"

  He looked at her closer. She was short, and slender, and pretty.

  "You aren't dead," he said.

  "No," she replied. "No, I'm not."

  * * *

  "They aren't human," Chen said.

  "No," Talia replied. "They aren't."

  "Then what are they? They look human, or they did at first, but.... It's not a Changeling Net. What are they?"

  "It's hard to explain," she sighed. "At least it is until you see the artefact. Then a lot of things become clear."

  "What artefact?"

  "You'll be taken to see it shortly."

  It had been a couple of hours since Chen had been rescued from the terrifying creatures who called themselves the Hand of the Light, and it seemed he had spent most of that time asking questions and not receiving answers. His rescuers had taken him to an abandoned warehouse, where they had built a camp. Chen knew of army bases less well protected.

  They had brought the prisoner with them. He had stumbled and tripped and had been dragged most of the way. He mumbled occasionally. He looked as if he were drunk, or very tired. As he looked at him Chen felt a strange surge of pity, and the memory of what the man had been faded.

  "Don't!" Talia snapped, looking at him. "Don't forget what they are. That's one of the ways they win."

  Chen had rested at the camp a little, washing his face and drinking a lot of water. There were perhaps forty people here, almost all of them telepaths, but there were a few mundanes also. There were even a couple of aliens, but they were telepaths as well.

  "What is this place?" he had asked when he arrived.

  "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Talia replied. "I don't blame you. This is a hideout for the time being. We'll be moving on soon. We have to."

  "Where to?"

  "We don't know yet. Somewhere safe. Somewhere we can help more people."

  "Don't you mean, help telepaths?"

  "No, help people. Teep or mundane, it doesn't matter."

  After he had rested Ben Zayn had come for him, staring at him with those dark eyes of his. Chen had never been afraid of mundanes before, not even as a child. He had always known he was one of the special people, but as Ben Zayn looked at him, he wondered if the mundane understood that.

  "Talia wants to see you."

  "What about?"

  "She thought you might like to be around when she questions the thing we captured. She even thinks you might be useful there. I'll reserve my judgement, but listen to me. I worked for Bester all my life. Him, I trusted completely. He trusted Talia, so I will as well. You, I don't know. Don't go thinking I'll treat you with kid gloves just because you're a teep. Prove yourself, or go out into the big wide world and be incorporated into the network. I don't care. Got that?"

  Chen only nodded.

  The being who had once looked human was tied to a chair, its head held steady by a young woman. A telepath. She looked at Chen and flashed him a quick, welcoming smile. He smiled back, a little nervously.

  Talia was there, staring at the thing, her arms folded. She looked up as Chen and Ben Zayn arrived.

  "All yours," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "We have to keep trying."

  "You mean keep running the risk of burning out? How many times have you done this, and what have you found?"

  "Which is why we have to keep trying. I've seen what they do to us, Ari, what they did to Al and Harriman and Byron and all the others. We have to know as much as we can about them to stop them, and that means this."

  "Fine. You're still the boss, but I'll be ready."

  Talia nodded, and turned to Chen. "You wanted answers? This is a way you can get them
. It won't be easy. It will hurt, and it could even kill you. I don't believe in lying to you.

  "But it is necessary, and then you'll understand. You have to understand before you can really be a part of us, before you can see the artefact.

  "Do you want to do this?"

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Go inside that thing's mind. Try to invade the network."

  Chen looked at it again, and then back to Ben Zayn. The man's face was twisted into a sneer, exaggerated by his scar. He would not be thought weak by a mundane, not in front of his own kind.

  He nodded.

  * * *

  Moreil walked through the ashes of chaos, savouring the feel of the choked air in his mouth and the touch of the blood-soaked earth through his fingers.

  He had not come to invade, or to conquer, or to subjugate. Some of his companions had sought riches, or captives, or even the love of killing, but not him.

  For him there was only the joy of bringing chaos, only the joy of serving his Dark Masters.

  The fight had been easy, so incredibly easy. The planet had hardly been protected at all, a half-repaired defence grid and a handful of antiquated ships. None of it was any match for the renegades, the Order of the Wolf, or the Brotherhood Without Banners, or the Imperial Order, or whatever they were called.

  Then they had gone to the surface, to the capital, and the true destruction had begun.

  They had killed some, they had taken some, but most they had left alive to spread the tales, so that everyone would know who had done this. And that, Moreil knew, was what most of them wanted. They spoke of riches and revenge and power, but all they really wanted was to be known and feared, to be people of influence, to have their names sung and whispered.

  An elderly Centauri woman was crying, screaming at him, interrupting his walk and his meditations. Moreil remembered her. Rem Lanas had taken her daughter, and the Wykhheran had torn apart her bond-partner and feasted on him.

  "Devil!" she cried. "The Gods will destroy you! They will come down from the heavens and destroy you with holy fire. You will all burn when the Light comes. All of you!" She was crying. "You will all burn."

  Moreil stopped and looked at her. She was old, and looked weak. He could have snapped her in half without trying, and his Wykhheran would barely have made a mouthful of her.

  He bent down and touched her face, moving his claws gently across her cheek, being careful not to draw blood. He was taking extra care. Some races were just so fragile.

  "I am Moreil," he said, speaking in her barbaric and uncivilised tongue. "Your Gods are dead."

  Then he set her aside and continued walking. He would not be here long. They had done what they came here for. Gorash was not completely ravaged, but it was enough for now. They had sent a warning to the galaxy that they existed, and that was a start.

  Next time, they would turn their attention somewhere bigger.

  * * *

  Delenn awoke from yet another dream, the latest of many. It seemed that ever since she had moved to this station she had not slept well. John was not there. It seemed he was rarely there when she awoke. She was not a late sleeper, but he was always up before her.

  But this was the middle of the night.

  She rose and walked into the next room. Space on Babylon 5 had been at a premium, and although the rooms she and John possessed were the largest, they were still far smaller than the ones she had had on Kazomi 7.

  John was there, standing still, as if he were a statue. A candle was burning just in front him, and he was staring into it as if nothing else existed.

  Delenn shivered, and looked at the wall. Space was beyond there, an infinity of it. An infinity of nothing.

  "Remember," she whispered.

  But remember what? It appeared that all of them had forgotten so much, so very much.

  "Welcome to Babylon Five," she said. There was a meeting tomorrow morning, a meeting of the Alliance Council. It was likely to be a difficult affair. There were so many new faces, and so many of the old ones were gone.

  She did not know how long she stood there, simply staring into space. When she finally returned to bed, she looked at John.

  He had not moved. Not a muscle.

  She sighed, and returned to an uneasy sleep.

  Chapter 2

  She was transported to a world consisting entirely of pain. It was not in one place, it was everywhere. She saw nightmares come to life. She heard the voice of the man talking to her, telling her to call him 'my lord', telling her to do things.

  She said nothing. She did nothing. She merely resisted as best as she could, and screamed when she could not. But he had not yet forced her to surrender, not yet forced her to beg. That was the only power she had now, the only power she could ever have now.

  She knew all about power. She had grown up at its nexus, a daughter of the Centauri Royal Court. Her father had wielded power, so had her mother, but it had done neither of them any good. Her father had been murdered, regardless of the power he had commanded, and her mother had died somewhere, alone, anonymous. She must have hated that.

  No, she had thought she understood power, but it was only now that she truly did. Power was to seize upon something and declare that that was something she would or would not do, for no other reason than because it suited her. She would not scream, she would not beg, and she would not call him 'lord'. He would have to kill her before she did any of these things.

  That was the only power she wielded now.

  There were others she saw, although whether they were real or nightmare she did not know. A Narn woman came and watched her often. There was a human as well, who carried a large knife, constantly sharpening it. These she was fairly sure were real and not hallucinations.

  But there was something else, an alien. It had a sharply angular head, and large eyes. It never stayed long, and it always looked at her closely, as if peering through her. Behind it something moved and shimmered, but she could never be sure if that was real or merely lights dancing in front of her eyes.

  She was forgetting too much. She was beginning to forget what Gorash had been like before they had come. She had even forgotten why she was there. She only remembered one thing.

  She would not give him what he wanted.

  Senna of House Refa, daughter of Emperor Refa, had that much power at least.

  * * *

  Chen had never experienced anything like this before. Not ever.

  It was as if he had been thrown into a raging river, one composed of light and thoughts and memories. And on the instant he broke the surface, he realised he had forgotten how to swim.

  There were thousands of them, screaming voices. Some he was sure he recognised. Some he was sure he had known once. But when he had known them, they had not been in so much pain.

  That was what this place was. A river of pain.

  Don't lose contact with us! One voice came rushing through the myriad others. It was Talia. You'll never find your way back if you do. You'll be lost forever.

  What is this place?

  The network. This is what they will do to us. All of us. Remember! Catch hold of something, anything that will remind you of who you are. Remember your name. And follow us. Don't get lost.

  Chen could see them now, Talia and the others. They were a school of fish, heading upstream, moving deeper into the maelstrom. He had entered the river with them, but had become separated. He moved towards them and was swept up in the force of their motion.

  Don't worry, came another voice, a female one. Stay close to me. I'll do what I can.

  The woman who had smiled at him. I don't even know your name, he said.

  Lauren. Lauren Ashley.

  I'm Chen Hikaru.

  Good. Keep thinking that. That's one of the first things they do to us in here. Take away our names.

  Where are we going?

  As far up as we can.

  Chen found it easier to just let himself be swept upwards with the others.
He could not navigate himself. There was too much that was strange and twisted. As they moved, he heard voices, he heard cries, he heard pleas for mercy.

  Shaking, he concentrated his mind on his fellow-travellers. They were repeating phrases over and over again, reliving memories. Some listed names, some recited poems. Lauren seemed to be replaying a day with a lover, a discovery that gave Chen an unsettling feeling of jealousy.

  There was little for him to concentrate on. He had no family. He had few friends. He read little, knew no poems or books or plays.

  Ah, there was one thing.

  The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father. I trust the Corps. The Corps will nurture me, will protect me. Maternis, Paternis. The Corps is Mother....

  Some of the others seemed displeased by his choice, but some smiled.

  Something's there! Talia said. Something's out there.

  Chen looked at her, and realised something. She was the only one who was not repeating that constant litany of memory.

  Then he realised something else. They were no longer within a river of light and gold. They were somewhere else.

  Hyperspace! Oh, my God, we're in hyperspace.

  Calm down, Lauren said. The network somehow crosses hyperspace. We don't know how. There are little.... folds and tunnels. We're in one of them now.

  But how...?

  Careful! Talia snapped. Something's here!

  It rose out of nowhere, forming around them from nothing. It towered above all of them. Size meant nothing here, but fear did.

  When Chen was a child, he had had recurring nightmares of spiders. He had been unable to sleep for fear of a blanket of them on top of him, crawling over him, suffocating him, moving slowly over his eyes and into his mouth so that he was unable to scream. During his first year with the Corps those dreams had been locked away, unable to hurt him any more. He had even identified the source of them — when he was a baby, a spider had crawled into his crib, a tiny, harmless thing, but to his child's eyes so much more.