by Peter David
chapter 2 Vir hadn't been entirely sure what he was expecting to find when he arrived at the dig site, but whatever he did fancy he'd see, it didn't match up with what they actually found down there. Empty buildings. Lots of them. The entire dig had a ramshackle feel about it, as Vir and the techno-mages made their way through the narrow streets. Actually, "streets" might have been too generous a word. There were assorted pathways that ran helter-skelter through the settlement, but nothing had actually been paved. At some points the paths became so narrow that, if Vir and the others had encountered someone coming in the opposite direction, there would have been a considerable problem in dealing with it. However, that situation never actually presented itself. There were others around. They heard them more than they saw them, and voices floated to them, carried upon the breeze. It was a very stiff breeze, almost a steady chill that Vir could feel slicing through right to his bones. Occasionally there were people congregating at street corners and in makeshift pubs. Vir caught scattered words here and there, and the words were quite disturbing. They were words such as "disappeared ," "dead,'Ilquit," "afraid." "Dead." That one was said quite a bit. There was only one other word that Vir heard with any greater frequency, and that word was "haunted." Haunted. Once upon a time, Vir would have laughed derisively at 13 such a word. But his time on Babylon 5 had served as a serious education into the realm of the supernatural ... or, at least, it had given him an introduction to the notion that there was more in heaven and earth than was dreamt of in his philosophy . He had lived in a place where people who captured souls and nightmare beings from unknown realms of space had been all too real. For the men he passed in the settlement town of K0643, it seemed, the line between truth and fiction, between the easily understood and the incomprehensible, had become blurred. For Vir himself, the line had long ago been completely erased. Anything was capable of happening to him. He felt that this was the only possible mind-set for him to maintain, since anything-more or less-generally did have the habit of happening to him. "I know you." The voice startled him. He turned and saw a fairly unremarkable , but nonetheless instantly identifiable Centauri who had just emerged from one of the pubs. Months earlier, a Centauri citizen had been used as a helpless pawn in an assassination attempt on John Sheridan, the president of the Interstellar Alliance. He had been unaware of the part that had been assigned him, and it had only been intervention on Vir's part that had prevented the citizen from carrying out the murderous design that had been thrust upon him. The individual's name had been Rem Lanas, and it was Lanas who was now standing in front of Vir, with clear astonishment on his face. Before Vir could say another word, Lanas grabbed him by the front of his heavy coat. Vir thought for a moment that it was an attack, but then he realized that Lanas was, in fact, imploring him. "Please," he said, "Don't take me back to Babylon 5. You ... you said we could keep it between us. Don't tell anyone I'm here. I'll . . I'll leave if you want, I'll-" "Calm down! For pity's sake, calm down!" said Vir, gripping him firmly by the shoulders. "Will you take it easy? I have no more intention of turning you over to the authorities now than I did then. What are you doing here?" "Working," Lanas responded, appearing surprised that Vir would even have to ask. "Why? What else would anyone be doing here? For that matter what are you doing here?" "Well we're here to check into some . . . things. We've heard that this place was, well ... haunted. And we felt that it would be in the best interests of the Republic to look into it, as ridiculous as the whole haunting thing might sound." He forced a laugh to underscore the alleged absurdity of the notion. Lanas was looking at him oddly. "Who is `we'? Is that the imperial `we'?" "What? Oh! No, no, `we' as in myself and my-" He turned and gestured toward the techno-mages. They weren't there. There was only empty air behind him. Vir stared dumbly at his open and gesturing hand for a moment , and then said, "-myself and my ... fingers. Yes, that's right," and he waggled them to display them properly. "That is to say, my fingers and 1. I have names for each of them. Would you like to hear-?" "No. No, that's ... quite all right," said Lanas carefully, clearly not wanting to offend the man, quite possibly a lunatic , who was standing in front of him. Suddenly switching his tone of voice, Vir inquired, "There seem to be fewer people here than I imagined there would be. Why is that?" Lanas seemed to give great thought to what he was about to say. Ultimately, he glanced around, as if concerned that someone might be eavesdropping, and then he said, "Not here." "Not here? You mean there are people not here?" "No, I mean we shouldn't talk here. Come." Turning, he started quickly down the makeshift road. Vir followed, pausing only a moment to glance over his shoulder and confirm for himself that there was no sign of those who had been accompanying him. Within a few minutes, Vir was sitting in the small quarters that had been assigned to Lanas. To say it was unadorned was to understate the matter. A few sticks of furniture in a one- room domicile in a large, prefabricated building-that was the entirety of Lanas' living quarters. "I'm sorry I've nothing to offer you to drink. I wasn't expecting company. Not that I would have been able to provide anything even had I known you were going to be here. Minister Durla keeps us on a fairly restricted regimen around here." "Does he." "Yes. He doesn't want us spending his time and his money drinking. He believes that eating, working, and sleeping should constitute the entirety of our existence here." "And you put up with that?" Vir was appalled. "But there's more to life than that! There's. . ." "Oh. And he keeps prostitutes supplied in abundance." "Ah:" Vir bobbed his head in comprehension. "He, uhm ... he does?" "Yes. He believes they provide a necessary release." He shrugged. "Apparently they fit into the budget more easily than liquor. Less expensive, too." "That's very frugal of him;" Vir said. "They actually have an incentive b onus program, where they-" Vir quickly put up his hands and forced a grin. "That's ... that's quite all right. I get the idea. I don't really need to know more than you've told me. In fact, I wouldn't have been upset to know less." He cleared his throat, and then said, "So, you were going to tell me about. . ." "Yes." Lanas nodded. Despite the fact that it was just the two of them in the room, he still lowered his voice. "Between the mysterious disappearances, and the people who have quit, the workforce has dropped by seventy percent. The advantage is, those of us remaining are being given sizable raises just to keep us here. The disadvantage, of course, is that we might not see our loved ones ever again. That would probably be more disturbing to me if I actually had loved ones." He shrugged. "I know it sounds insane. But somehow you just wind up adjusting to the idea that people disappear around here." "Yes, I can guess that you would,"Vir said, thinking about the abrupt disappearance of the techno-mages. "And do you have any idea what might be causing it? Any clue?" "None at all. All I know is this: We've a primary excavation area in which we've managed to get deep beneath the surface of this misbegotten world. A number of men have disappeared along the way, some mysteriously, some running away. We have no idea what we're searching for, or what's going on here. But I will tell you what made an impression on me. Minister Durla came here once to inspect the facilities. I saw him several times during his stay here, and every time I did, there was something in his eyes." "You mean, like an eyelash?" "No," Lanas shook his head in exasperation. "I mean a look, a ... sensation. As if he was pleased over the existence of this dig, for some reason that none of us could fathom. I certainly know I couldn't." "And he's given you no clue as to what you're looking for." "No. The only thing I know is that he increased the shifts. We're working around the clock now. Day and night. Right now the Odd Squad is on." "The ... what?" "That's what we call them. The Odd Squad. A group of particularly aggressive diggers that sort of ended up working with one another. Word is that they're all former criminals or some such. Used to hard labor. They thrive on it. Enjoy doing it better and faster than anyone else because they somehow prove something to themselves." He stopped and shrugged. "Ah, but I shouldn't be second-guessing other people's motives . When you get right down to it, who ever knows why anyone does anything, right?" "Oh, I can, uhm ... definitely agree with you o
n that one," Vir said. "In any event, if anyone gets down to the bottom of whatever it is that we're digging around for, it's going to be the Odd Squad. They claim they can smell danger and then run screaming toward it. One of them ... Ciril, I think his name is ... says he's looking forward to meeting Death so that he can punch Death in his privates and then assail him with a string of off-color remarks. I'm not sure why anyone would want to anger Death; but then again, it's not my fantasy. In any event, at the behest of the Odd Squad-men possessed if ever I saw them-lights were rigged to provide illumination. That was something I oversaw, actually. Electronics is my field of expertise ... although considering the circumstances we keep meeting under, I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I wasn't much good at anything. Whenever the-" Suddenly, a severe rumble rippled up from below them. Vir was utterly disconcerted. The sound was so deep, so all- encompassing, that for a moment he thought a fleet of Shadow vessels was soaring through the sky, their sheer weight causing vibrations as they passed. Lanas, for his part, didn't seem especially put out. "And we're getting those more often, too," he said as the trembling subsided. "Quakes? Why? Is this area built on a fault line?" "Not to the best of our knowledge, no. But it keeps happening just the same. No one knows what causes it." We do. Vir looked up, confused and surprised when he heard that. "You do?" he asked. "No, I just said we didn't." Lanas looked utterly confused. "Was I somehow unclear?" We know. Get out of there, Vir. Matters are moving faster than we anticipated. There was no longer any need for hesitation on Vir's part, for naturally he knew just who was most likely to be projecting commentary directly into his skull. In an instant, he was on his feet, and through clenched teeth he said to Lanas, "I have to go. Thank you for your hospitality." "But I wasn't being particularly hospitable. . ." "You didn't try to threaten me, terrorize me, or toss me into prison. These days, that's enough for me to consider myself ahead of the game. It's been charming. Have to go. Bye." Rem Lanas stared in confusion as Vir bolted out the door so fast that it barely had time to slide open for him. Then he just shook his head and murmured, "I've heard that Babylon 5 does strange things to a man. But until I met Vir Cotto, I never realized just how strange." When Vir stepped out of the building, he looked to his right, then to his left. At that point he was tapped on the shoulder with enough force that it caused him to jump slightly, startled. Then he glared at the three techno-mages who were standing exactly where Vir had been looking, moments before. "How do you do that?" he demanded in exasperation. "A magician never reveals his tricks," Kane informed him. "Yes, but you're not a magician. You're a cloister." "True," Kane admitted. "Have no fear, Kane," Finian said brightly. "I suspect once we are finished with this business, we will no longer be looked upon as cloisters." "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 Nam. 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 y
ou 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 certainly 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 acquaintanceRenegar 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 ahnost 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 l
ast 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 there 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 Nam, 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 Nam, then there would be un- fortunate 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. Energy crackled around the gargantuan structure. There appeared to be three of the black ships, although they were so huge that Vir had no idea of what the crew complement might be. They hung above the jumpgate, just hovering there, as if they were communing with it somehow. Then the power of the jumpgate flared, greater than before. And Vir fancied that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear something cry out, and the cry was in turn answered. Never in his life had he heard-and not heard- anything quite as eerie. The energy in the gate grew greater still, and the ships began to tremble in sympathy with it. It was as if, in some bizarrely perverse manner, they were making love to one another, energy building upon energy until a release would be achieved. What a time to think of sex, Vir's mind scolded him. In a sick sort of way, he might actually have found it mildly amusing. That was the moment when Vir was yanked off his feet. The gate let out a roar then, like a great pouncing beast, and Vir wondered if he were about to witness another unleashing of the gate's power and energy. He considered two things, rather belatedly. First, if that was genuinely what was going to happen, then Vir had put himself squarely on the firing line, and might well be incinerated within seconds. And second, he remembered the predictions of Lady Morella, which stated that Vir would rule after Londo. Londo himself had said that the predictions as much as made Vir invulnerable . Vir, however, wasn't feeling especially invulnerable at the moment. He began to tumble toward the gate, rock and debris being pulled all around him. There was a twisted girder sticking up from the ground, and it seemed fairly well embedded. In any event, Vir certainly wasn't in a position to be fussy. He threw his arms around the girder, held on for dear life as the newly opened gate continued to roar with animal fury. Beyond the coruscating energies that the gate was unleashing, Vir thought he could see ... hyperspace? Or something else? Yes, yes, definitely something else. He had gone through jumpgates enough times, and knew what to expect. This was like nothing he had ever seen. The incredible draw of the gate started to lift Vir's feet clear off the ground, yanking him horizontal. His legs thrashed about, seeking purchase, and he managed to snag the toe of one boot around the girder. With all his strength he pulled himself to a vertical position, wrapping his legs around his anchor. There were more ships than just the three he had seen before, more and more descending every moment. Five, six, ten ... he lost count. They entered the giant, crackling energy gate, and with each passing, he once again heard that un- canny, frightening cry in his head, as if something within the gate was welcoming home the ships that were passing through it. The ground around him was littered with bodies. On the other side of the gate was something so dark, so evil ... Great Maker, how could he have thought, for even a moment, that he was too tired to be afraid? He knew that the definition of a brave man was one who did what needed to be done, despite his fears. But he had no definition for a man who was not only paralyzed with fear, but also in fact had no idea what to do at all. The only term he could come up with was "out of one's league." In his fevered imagination, he thought he could hear the voices deep within the gate actually speaking to him. They were laughing, laughter mixed in with the words, and they were crying out their contempt for his ambitions as if to say, "Pathetic little creature ... thinking that you-you of all people-could save the galaxy? What makes you more worthy of living than all those around you, who died in witnessing the power before you? " "Nothing. Nothing makes me more worthy," said Vir, and he knew it to be true. And with that admission, the planet seemed to give up on him. The gate suddenly appeared to increase its efforts, determined that Vir would no longer defy it. The bits and pieces of body parts that lay strewn about the area were sucked in. The girder was torn loose from its moorings, and the jolt dislodged Vir's grip ... not that holding onto the no- longer-anchored girder would have done him a bit of good. Vir tumbled over and over, limbs flailing, and the roaring of the gate reached out to him in triumph. When suddenly there was another, smaller hole, directly in front of him. He realized at the last moment that it was a small ship, and the exterior hatch was irised open, hanging squarely in his path. Tumbling end-over-end as he was, he was unable to see anything clearly, although he thought he caught just the briefest glimpse of Finian, standing just inside the hatch. Then he was in the ship, his forward momentum carrying him to the far bulkhead, and he slammed against it. For a long moment he couldn't move. He lay there in a tangle of arms and legs, twisted like a contortionist. And sure enough, there was Finian, except he wasn't taking the time to determine how Vir was holding up. Instead he was dashing toward the front of the ship, shouting, "Kane! He's in! We've got him! Let's go!" Kane said something Vir couldn't make out, and he heard both Finian and Gwynn exclaim in shock, "What?!" Suddenly the ship lurched once more. As tossed around as Vir was, he knew with utter certainty which way they were going: toward the gate. It was obvious that Gwynn and Finian were also aware of that, as Vir stumbled into the front section of the ship. They were standing on either side of Kane, who was calmly manning the controls. At least, that's what Vir thought he was doing, but he couldn't be quite sure because the controls w
ere unlike anything that Vir had ever seen. Everything was utterly smooth, with simple, glistening, black panels. He couldn't see any separation between anything. He wouldn't have had a clue as to what to touch where, but Kane was operating with apparent sure-handedness. "This is an information-gathering mission, Kane!" Gwynn said for what sounded like the hundredth time. "We're not s upposed to be heroes!" "Or martyrs," added Finian. His customary defense of Kane seemed to have been abandoned. "I've no wish to be either one ... but I'm doing what I must," said Kane. Gwynn drew back her fist, looking ready to do something rather unmagical with it, such as caving in Kane's head. If that, however, was what she was going to do, she waited too long. Because then the gate was right there, right in front of them, and there was simply no way to avoid it. The ship spiraled through, elongating, and then collapsing back on itself, as Vir heard the voices laughing at him ... A deathly silence fell over the dig site of K0643, broken only by the occasional howling of a less active wind, and the distant sobbing of one legless Centauri who was watching the blood seep out of himself. Miraculously, he had not been hauled away by the force of the gate, having been wedged against an outcropping and unexpectedly held there by the natural formation of the rock. His name was Ciril, and he had looked forward to being able to defy Death, punch him in the guts. His enthusiasm for that moeting waned, along with his life. And when his crying finally stopped, only the wind was left.
