No, Blaylock said. You are surrendering to chaos. You must stop.
Then the sensors revealed another ship ahead. It was still distant, outside the atmosphere, but it was coming straight toward them.
He would destroy it too.
They would say Kosh spent too much time among the younger races. They would say that he allowed sentimentality to weaken discipline. They would say that the rules of engagement must not be broken, that the Vorlons must keep themselves above the conflict. They would say it was not fitting that he should endanger himself for any of the younger races, particularly this small group infected with darkness. And perhaps they were right.
Yet long had he watched the younger races, long had he guided them, though they did not know it. Wars had come and gone, aeons had passed, races had lived and died. There had been progress, surely. Where he had been able to instill canon, discipline, the younger races gained wisdom, matured. Yet for each of the seeds he sowed, chaos sowed its opposite. Violence, lawlessness abounded. A race made a hard-earned step forward only to slide back toward anarchy, or to be destroyed by its neighbor. The Xon had flourished only to be massacred by the Centauri. The Humans had united in a planetary government only to fall into a pointless war with the Minbari.
Many among the Vorlons had grown frustrated by the constant interference of the Shadows. Some said the time at last had come; the enemy must be attacked directly. But most clung to the rules of their ancient agreement and hoped that their new stratagems would be successful, that they would at last prove order superior to chaos.
As for Kosh, the coming of this new war carried with it an unfamiliar sense of unease. He had begun to consider something of which he had never heard another Vorlon speak. He had begun to doubt whether their manipulationswhen coupled with those of the enemytruly benefited the younger races.
Those young races formed the battleground over which their elders fought. The battle was harsh, the casualties great, the process unforgiving. The younger ones struggled so, in their primitive way. The many who had died began to feel like an overwhelming weight of darkness which no light could banish.
But what could be done? Breaking the rules of engagement meant anarchy.
Yet sometimes, it seemed, they should do more than manipulate from on high. Sometimes, it seemed, they should help.
These thoughts had begun to take shape, perhaps, during the last war. But only as he had presented the information of Kells probable death, only as he had argued that the fabulists should be allowed to leave in peace, had he become aware of his doubts. The Vorlons had reluctantly agreed to let the fabulists retreat to their hiding place, and Koshs unease had been soothed. Yet now, all that could change.
He had been planting buoys in the systems touched by darkness. The buoys had sung their perceptions to him, and he had been slipping through their song, observing, absorbing, when he had seen it. Another fabulist ship had arrived in the Thenothk system.
Most of the fabulists had gathered on Babylon 5 in what seemed to be preparation for their departure. Yet many Vorlons did not believe that the fabulists would withdraw. They believed the fabulists must join with the forces of chaos. Despite the destruction of Kells ship, some did not accept his death. They believed it a deception.
Others, whose numbers were growing, claimed it unimportant whether the fabulists joined with the darkness. They were touched by darkness, and so should be destroyed. Why let them flee, only to later return?
Kosh had watched as the new fabulist ship had disguised itself as one of the enemys black abominations and approached the fourth planet in the system. Deciding he must observe in person, Kosh had altered the song of his ship, directing it toward Thenothk. The ship obeyed eagerly. Obedience was its greatest joy.
Over the short journey, Kosh witnessed the fabulists actions. The fabulist approached the main settlement, circled the stronghold of the maelstrom. He was looking for something. After a short time, his false appearance ceased to deceive the Shadows. They began to attack. Still the fabulist remained.
As Koshs ship glided peacefully out of hyperspace, the fabulist descended to the planets surface. He had not joined with the ancient enemy, yet he came to their stronghold, he landed. He searched for something of great value.
As Kosh stopped a safe distance from the planet, the fabulist ship rose up through the haze of the atmosphere. It was besieged by vessels loyal to the darkness. Great energies flashed around the ship, energies as great as those commanded by the Vorlons. Kosh recognized those flashes. He had detected one before, at the fabulists assemblage. One of the fabulists wielded great power, and it was for him that the ship had searched. He had been a prisoner of the Shadows, and now he was freed.
As the fabulist ship rose over the city of pestilence, buildings fell to rubble, structures collapsed, vanished. There seemed no discrimination in the choice of targets. In its wake the ship left chaos.
The fabulist was destroying a stronghold of the maelstrom. And yet he was a creation of the maelstrom.
The fabulists had imposed a Code upon themselves, their attempt to fight the influence of chaos. If this fabulist truly did destroy without discrimination, then he had succumbed to the dream of the maelstrom. As it had gone with one, so it might go with others. This, at least, would be the Vorlons argument. And again they would turn their minds to attack.
The fabulists on Babylon 5 were vulnerable. Kosh could not let the Vorlons take action against them based on fear. He must know the truth.
Kosh would place himself in the ships path. If the fabulist did not attack, that would be evidence sufficient to placate the others. But if the fabulist had fallen to chaos, then he would attempt to destroy Kosh. And Kosh would attempt to destroy him.
Who would triumph in such a contest, Kosh did not know.
They would say he had forgotten his place. They would say beings touched by Shadows deserved no second chance. They would say he took a foolish risk.
But it was his to take.
* * *
chapter 16
Elric stood in the customs area, his body stiff, muscles clenched. Within his skull, the cavity of darkness pushed outward, exerting an incredible pressure against the backs of his eyes, his forehead. He told himself he need endure only a few more minutes; then his task would be completed. In the meantime, his concentration could not flag.
Spread across Elrics minds eye were the images from numerous probes and security cameras on Babylon 5. They revealed five hundred robed mages, a procession stretching out of Down Below, through corridors, up staircases, into the customs area, past the security checkpoint, and onto the Centauri freighter Ondavi . Of the five hundred, only one in ten was real, each creating the illusions surrounding him. To help maintain those illusions, John had posted security guards periodically along the mages route, preventing anyone from coming near or interrupting their progress.
The one who absolutely could not approach was Morden, who would be accompanied by Shadows who could see through their illusions. Elric believed Morden would keep away, so that the mages would not grow suspicious of the Ondavi . After all, Morden intended them to believe he knew nothing of the Centauri freighter.
But Elric could not allow the slightest chance that Morden and the Shadows might appear. Conveniently, a section of the hallway ceiling outside Mordens quarters had collapsed, trapping him and his associates inside. Morden would expect a defensive action of this type as the mages departed; it should rouse no suspicions of their true plan.
Morden had protected his interests, though, by sending one of his agents to observe the mages departure. The maintenance worker stood now across the customs area, watching. That was fine. He would see what Elric wanted him to see.
As the mages approached the Ondavi , one in twenty would step aside before entering the ship, giving the appearance that they were supervising the others. Those were the ones Elric hoped to save, the young ones. Slowly they faded into the background, or went back along the processions r
oute with the excuse of checking on the others, then disguised themselves with full-body illusions and returned to board the nearby Crystal Cabin under false names. Of the twenty-five Elric hoped to save, fifteen already had boarded.
Unfortunately, all fifty of those who had come to Babylon 5 could not be saved. The Centauri crew of the Ondavi must believe that five hundred mages had boarded their ship, and that five hundred remained in their cargo hold. To sustain that illusion required five mages at the very least, more when those mages powers were failing. Elric thought of Burell, who had been the most skilled at creating large, complex illusions. She had also been the first of their losses. The throbbing in his head grew stronger.
More mages were required to interact with the crew, and to keep the crew away from the illusions. More were necessary to create false life-signs and mage energies, so that any who scanned the ship as it left Babylon 5 would be convinced they were all inside. Elric and Ing-Radi had discussed the issue at length, but no fewer than twenty-five seemed required to ensure the success of the deception.
Ing-Radi and Beel were on board the Ondavi now, supervising the others. They had planted probes about the freighter, so Elric and the others could observe. Although the mages had seen no evidence that the ship had been sabotaged, they knew it had been done. All those boarding understood that they would die.
They had gathered an hour ago to recite the words of the Code. None had asked to be released from his task. All were prepared to give their lives so that the rest of their order might escape unmolested. Or so it seemed. Gowen had monitored them and found no evidence of disloyalty. Of course, Elric could not be certain until they had boarded the ships, and the deception was complete. He felt angry at himself for even doubting them, yet he must, if he was to foresee all possibilities. But it seemed now those doubts had been unwarranted.
Of course, none but he and Ing-Radi knew the truth. None but he and Ing-Radi knew that escaping to a hiding place would not save their order but only postpone their end. None but he and Ing-Radi knew that the Shadows were not their adversaries but their creators. If the others knew that, Elric wondered how many of them would still give up their lives to see the mages safely to the hiding place. Perhaps all, perhaps none.
But they would not know. He would maintain the lie, and they would go to their deaths, each one a crushing burden.
And secured by those deaths, the rest of their order would flee, abandoning the galaxy in its time of greatest need.
Ing-Radi did not think of it as Elric did. She believed the success of the deception would be an affirmation of their order and their solidarity. He had spoken with her privately before the recitation of the Code. It had been the first time she had risen from her bed since falling ill, and Elric had feared she was not equal to the demands of the task that faced them. They had met in the small room Ing-Radi had taken for her own, which was much the same as Elrics. He had been shocked at her deterioration.
The orange had faded completely from her skin, leaving it a pale greyish white marked by the crisscrossing blue lines of veins. Her tall, thin body had become skeletal, disjointed, and something in the tentative way she moved gave him the impression that she could collapse at any moment into little more than a pile of bones.
You have done well, she had said to him. I believe your deception will be successful.
That remains uncertain.
If I may, I ask again that you do not join us on the Ondavi . You are not needed there among the dead. You are needed much more among the living.
We agreed that twenty-five were necessary.
One more or less will not matter. If you believe it will, choose another. Any would volunteer to take your place.
I cannot ask one more to make such a sacrifice. And I cannot ask any, if I do not make it myself.
You do not ask. The situation requires that some of us die. Just as the situation requires that you live. To make any other choice would be selfishness.
Elric shook his head. He did not have the energy to argue, and he could not concede.
Yet Ing-Radi persisted. You said you fear Blaylock may be dead. Would you have Herazade be the sole survivor of the Circle? Would you have her alone guide the mages through the difficult decisions ahead?
The thought appalled him, as she had known it would. But it changed nothing. Besides, his health too was failing.
The slash of her mouth smiled gently down at him. I live in hope that our order may discover the secret of producing our own tech. Then we may at last be in control of our own destiny. With such a hope, the retreat to a hiding place is sensible. I am willing to make any sacrifice to keep that hope alive. But I know that you have no such hope. You believe the mages have initiated their last, and will now begin their long twilight. You envision our order dying, one by one, until a hundred years from now the last of us passes to the other side. For what, then, do you offer your life?
Elric spoke with finality. For solidarity. Our only weapon against the Shadows. Please dont ask me further. I will not change my mind.
After that, he had turned the discussion to the final details of their plan. He had tried to focus on the good they would achieve if they were successful, yet Ing-Radis words continued to haunt him, even now. She was right, of course. He had no hope for the mages future. He had lost his dreams, and they could not be resurrected. His one regret was Galen. He did not want to leave Galen. But if Alwyn had not arrived in time, Galen might already be waiting for him on the other side.
Elric could not think of that. That way lay despair.
The throbbing in his head was building, spreading throughout his body, echoed in counterpoint by the tech. He forced himself to straighten, checking the various images in his minds eye. The last of the mages had left Down Below, and the end of the line was winding its way up toward the customs area.
Elric realized he was pressing the heel of his hand to his temple, and he lowered it.
Carvin, wearing a simple black robe, reached the hatch of the Ondavi and stepped out of line, speaking with Fed and Gowen, who also stood to one side. Gowen said something to her, and she glanced toward Elric. Then Carvin pointed down the line of mages, appearing to send Fed and Gowen to check on the others. She came back through security and approached Elric.
Elric recalled the conjury she had done in her last training session before becoming a mage. With assured, graceful movements, she had juggled Alwyns boots, mixing them with illusions of other shoes, sending them flying into complex patterns. In all the activity, illusions had replaced the real boots, which she had hidden away. Their current shell game was very much the same.
Are you all right? she asked.
He was about to send her on to the Crystal Cabin , when the pressure in his head suddenly built into an incredible, over-whelming pain. His muscles were quivering, his legs about to collapse. I must withdraw. I will return in a moment.
She nodded, eyes wide.
He barely made it into an empty corridor before his legs gave way beneath him. He conjured an illusion around himself, a section of wall that bumped out around him. He pressed his forehead against the cold floor and tried to focus on the images in his minds eye. The pain, that tumor of desolation growing inside him, seemed to block out everything else. He felt as if he were being consumed by it, by all that had been lost, and all that would be lost.
He had gone too long without rest. Now, at this critical time, he was failing.
Angry at his weakness, he forced himself to focus, to access the camera in the customs area. He must not allow the plan to fail.
Carvin was standing in his place, waiting for his return.
Londo strutted into the customs area behind her, his black halo of hair restored to perfect order.
Elric had known that eventually he would emerge, driven by curiosity, a twinge of guilt, but most of all, a desire to assuage his ego, to prove to himself that he was not afraid of the mages. Elric should be the one to deal with him.
Elric clim
bed to hands and knees. His limbs trembled, rubbery. He did not have the strength to rise.
The arrangements are satisfactory, yes? Londo said to Carvin.
Londo. Yes, youve honored your debt. She extended her hand. No kiss?
His expression softened. You make it difficult to remain angry at you. He took the hand, kissed it.
Theres no need for hard feelings between us. We required a ship; you were able to provide one. Although she was unprepared for the encounter, she was playing the gracious winner, as she should. She revealed no sign that she knew the Centauri ship would soon take twenty-five of her order to their deaths.
Londo looked toward the line of mages, and his lips parted. He turned back to Carvin. I wish that you and I could have gotten to know each other better. Is there any chance you could stay? Follow the others in a few days?
So Londo did have a scrap of conscience, at least for a beautiful young woman. The rest of them could die without causing him undue upset.
I must go with them. You should be glad were leaving before youve lost everything.
Yes, I still have my stock in Fireflies, Incorporated. Sure to bring me security in my old age.
Carvin glanced at the end of the line of mages, which had wound its way into the customs area. Its time now, Londo. With a smile she took his hand, kissed it in a perfect impression of his overly solicitous manner. Good-bye, dear ambassador. She took her place at the end of the line.
As Londo looked after her, his mouth widened, as if he thought to say something, and he seemed to come to a decision. He went after her.
Elric struggled to push himself up. Carvin needed to get to the Crystal Cabin . Londo must be distracted. He raised a hand to the wall to brace himself. It slid down again, again, as if the muscles in his arm had been removed. Waves of emptiness pushed through him.
The Ondavi is a freighter, Londo said, walking beside her as the line progressed toward the ship. Really not fit for passengers. The cargo holdhe shook his headits quite unpleasant.
Babylon 5 17 - Techno-Mages 02 - Summoning Light (Cavelos, Jeanne) Page 29
