A Dark Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars like Giants. Part 4 : Hopes Aspirations and Dreams addm-5 Read online

  Circles within circles, shadows overlapping, lights rising and falling. Everything was supposed to have been easier when the war ended.

  That was when she had the unexpected visitor.

  "John." He was standing in the doorway, half in and half out.

  "Are you busy?" He sounded nervous.

  "No.... well, yes, but you can come in. Of course you can." For a moment she had felt her heart pounding. His collapse was still very recent, and he had discharged himself from the Medlab sooner than she was comfortable with.

  "You were gone when I awoke this morning." She tried not to make it sound accusing, but it still seemed to come out like a complaint.

  "Yes. I.... went for a walk. I had a lot of thinking to do. Um.... I've been working too hard recently. I think I'll take some time off. Go away for a while or something."

  Delenn smiled, relieved. She had been so afraid for a minute, but if that was all.... He had been working too hard. A break away from the station would do them both good.

  "I would like that," she said. "G'Kar should be back from Narn soon. If we can wait for a few days, the Alliance should be able to cope with our absence. Where would you like to go?"

  "Ah, Delenn...." He breathed out slowly, looking incredibly uncomfortable. He had been so distant recently, and very distracted since his return from his expedition to hunt down Sinoval. "I.... need to go on my own."

  "Oh," she said. "Oh, of course. I did not mean.... Yes, of course."

  "But I have to ask you something first. I would have gone to G'Kar, but he's not here and it looks as if Ta'Lon is off on a mission as well, so I assume all the Ranger reports are coming to you?"

  "Eventually, yes," she admitted. Where was he going with this? Where was he going without her? Her throat felt so dry. Was this what humans meant by the ending of a relationship? This.... slow, gradual loss of intimacy and growing awkwardness. "They go to the Ranger office first, and I only see the urgent messages immediately, but yes.... What...?"

  "I need to know where David is."

  She started, a terrible memory overwhelming her. "What?"

  "I know you know where he is. I should have gone to look for him a long time ago, but.... I have to find him. There are some things I need to ask him. He might not want to see me, and hell, I wouldn't blame him, but...." He looked at her. "Please, Delenn."

  She bowed her head. "Minbar," she said softly. "He was in Yedor the last I heard of him, helping with the rebuilding."

  "Minbar," John said softly. "Of course. I should have guessed. Thank you."

  "John, are you...?"

  "All right?" he finished for her. "You know, I really have no idea." He leaned against the door frame, arms folded. "I used to be so sure, but recently everything's just been crashing down around me. There were so many things I took for granted that now I don't know anything about. I think most of all I need some time alone to think about them, but I have to talk to David first.

  "I shouldn't be gone long. I'll take the first ship out.... passenger, not a Dark Star. I want to travel incognito for one thing. And.... Delenn.... please don't send any Rangers to keep an eye on me. I really do need to be alone."

  She nodded. "How.... how long will you be gone?"

  "Not long. We'll.... talk when I get back. I think we'll have a lot to talk about by then."

  She nodded once, and then turned back to her notes. An instant later he was gone.

  * * *

  Blind.

  I am blind.

  The pain is intense, agonising. A million dots of light fill his vision, as far as he can see in any direction. He hears voices, some soothing, some angry. A lover, a leader, a friend, an enemy.

  "You will live," a fierce voice hisses, powerful and determined and female.

  "We will destroy them," growls an older male voice. "I tell you, nephew, we will destroy them all for what they did."

  "Oh, G'Kar, I'm sorry. I should have come earlier." A man's voice, younger, filled with doubt and uncertainty.

  "I will tell you nothing, animals!" An enemy's voice. An alien's. An invader's. The voice of the man who had dripped the white liquid on to his eyes. "I will not scream for you."

  "Monster!" hissed the woman.

  "No!" cried the older man. "Wait."

  "After what he did?"

  "We wait. When my nephew recovers, we will give him the prisoner. Let G'Kar do what he likes with him, when he recovers."

  "Yes. When he recovers. Do you hear that, monster? You cannot break him."

  "I do not fear you."

  "Perhaps not. But you should."

  All the voices become one. He is afraid he will never see their owners again. All he can see is the light, and hints of the shadows they cast. The shadows seem to reach so far in all directions — they cover him, they shroud him, they taint his future, all of their futures.

  "Blind."

  The voices all speak at once. "He spoke!" "G'Kar, are you...?" "Stand aside, do not crowd him." "So sorry." "G'Kar." "Animal." "Stand aside." "G'Kar."

  G'Kar. Is that his name? All he can think about is the pain in his eyes.

  "Blind."

  "No," says the older male voice. "No, you are not blind. We have sent for the old woman. She will heal you."

  "She will do nothing," snaps the female.

  "She will," the older man repeats. "Or we will break her."

  "Blind."

  "Your will is stronger than that, nephew. Be strong. Remember your father. Remember what they did to him."

  "Father...."

  "One more animal dead. Who else would remember something like that?"

  "Silence!"

  Another voice, female and alien and.... old. So very old. "I come. I will not hear your threats, for I do not fear your words."

  "You had better fear us!"

  "Old woman. Your son blinded my nephew. You will heal him."

  "Mother, don't touch these animals!"

  A sound, and then a scream. The alien male is screaming. Good, they should all scream.

  "Stop it! Remember, girl. It is a gift. A gift for when he awakes."

  "I do not fear you. I know you will kill me when I am done, just as I know you will kill my son when I am done. But show me this nephew of yours. I would at last look upon the face of this one."

  Some of the stars go out, as a small shadow falls across him. It becomes greater, spreading and growing. There is a sound like an intake of breath, sharp and cold, a brush of wind against his cheek.

  "Oh, this one. I had heard, but I had feared. So you are the one I have sought for so long? You accomplished nothing, my son. This one shall outlive all here. His words shall outlive this galaxy. He is touched."

  "Enough with the prophecies! Just heal him!"

  "Do you doubt me? You.... warlord. You remember a prophecy, yes. I see it in your eyes. Not mine, but the fate still hangs above you."

  "I remember, witch. And I still live."

  "For now, yes. But this one shall outlive you. Do you wish to know his fate, warlord?"

  "Mother, do not...!"

  "This one shall befriend an Emperor and meld peoples with his words. His passion shall inspire them, his heart make them kneel before them. He shall be the mouth of the river that flows through his people's souls.

  "And he shall see his world die and be powerless to prevent it. He shall die at the hands of one he once called friend, but his words and his legacy shall live on. Not forever, but as close to it as makes no difference."

  "Heal him, woman. I have no patience for your mysticism."

  "You shall see, warlord. And yes, I will heal him — but because the whispers of fate say I will, not for your threats."

  There is a warm pressure on his eyes. The few remaining stars die and the shadow grows. Slowly, it takes shape and form. A woman. A Centauri. A noblewoman.

  A seeress.

  He moves with the speed of a striking snake. As soon as he can see her form, he seizes her neck and squeezes. There is a crunch of bone and she snaps, falling limp and boneless to the ground.

  Slowly he moves from the bed, his vision returning — blurred and unclear, but there all the same. Da'Kal holds him tightly and passionately. G'Sten stands proud and tall, nodding in admiration. The other has fled. G'Kar has not heard his voice for some time.

  And there, chained and beaten and bloodied in the corner, lies the Centauri noble who did this to him. He looks up, defiant.

  "A gift, nephew," G'Sten says.

  "Kill him," Da'Kal hisses. "Kill him."

  "Not yet," he says. His knife is still at his belt and he pulls it out. The light reflected from it is dull and faint, but he knows full vision will return with time. He knows somehow that one day he will see to the ends of the galaxy, see wonders that most people cannot even contemplate.

  "He would have blinded me, taken my eyes and my vision forever. Let such a fate be his, then.

  "An eye.... for an eye."

  Blind.

  G'Kar huddled in the darkness.

  Blind.

  * * *

  Breath came slowly and darkness filled his vision. He could barely move. For a moment that seemed to last forever he thought he was dead, and his soul lingered in his decomposing corpse. It would be fit punishment for the sins of his life, he supposed, and he wished he had spoken more to Sinoval about such matters when he had had the chance. A golden opportunity to learn about death and what followed it, and he had failed to seize it.

  "G'Kar," he whispered. He was not sure if he had actually spoken the words aloud or only in his mind. If he had died, should it not have happened as he had foreseen? It had been a dream. A death-dream. Those never lied.

  But the truth they told was not always what it appeared to be.

  Or perhaps nothing was written in stone, and any fate could be avoided.

  Or perhaps stones could simply be shattered and ground to dust.

  "G'Kar," he said again. His fingers twitched. He strained his head to look at them, and struggled again. Yes, they moved, the smallest distance, but a movement nonetheless.

  He was not dead.

  Unless this was just a hallucination. A dream.

  Was he a Centauri dreaming he was dead or a ghost dreaming he was alive or something in between?

  He could smell smoke. It was not the braziers drifting from the feast of his dream, or his life, or whatever it had been. It was the smoke of death and madness and in its black cloud it carried with it the screams of his people.

  "I cannot rest here," he whispered, and struggled to pull himself up. His muscles would not obey him, but he persevered, and managed to lift his legs over the edge of the bed. They were hideously lumpen and heavy, like dead flesh moving.

  The floor was cold and hard beneath his feet, but that was good. A sensation at last. He could feel something other than pain. He could not be dead.

  Through his blurred vision, something slowly swam into focus.

  A meal. Food, and a glass with something in it.

  He reached out with the one arm that seemed to obey him and touched the glass. Jhala. And fresh, too.

  Part of his dream. No, in his dream he had been drinking brivare and Earth liquor and Minbari water and.... other things. Not jhala. A powerful thirst suddenly burned in his throat and he tried to lift the glass. It seemed impossibly heavy, and he had to support his arm with the other one, forcibly heaving the glass to his face as if it contained molten metal.

  He could smell it as it came nearer, inch by agonising inch. It smelled good. Another sensation. Another sign that he was not a dead soul in a dead shell. He tried to manoeuvre the glass to his mouth.

  It shattered in his hand, the drink cascading over his face and body. He opened his mouth hurriedly and actually managed to catch some of it. It tasted fine, finer than anything he could have imagined. His legs gave way beneath him and he sat back wearily on the bed, careless of the shards of glass.

  "I did not supply that drink for you to throw it everywhere," said a prim voice. He turned his head to see a short, elegant woman standing demurely in the doorway. She walked forward slowly. "You are all right then. I would have hoped so, the amount of time you spent sleeping. Who would run the Republic while you were asleep, you might have thought to ask, but no." She reached his side and looked at him intently.

  "Oh, Londo," she sighed. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Londo."

  "Timov," he whispered. "Oh, my Timov."

  * * *

  The dreams were less now, the nightmares grown rarer. It was remarkable what a solid day's work would do for you. Going to bed exhausted every night left little space for bad dreams.

  That was precisely how David Corwin liked it.

  A piece at a time, Yedor was transforming before his eyes — growing, becoming new, becoming alive. The fields outside the city were becoming greener, the stones and the crystals slowly starting to shine. The lake was still dirty and thick with silt. The sky was still dark and heavy. The signs of the devastation of this world were still there, but they were less now.

  One day, he hoped, no one would ever be able to tell what had happened. There would be no sign remaining, no hint of the bloodshed humanity was capable of.

  Corwin sat silently on the banks of Turon'val'na lenn-veni, looking out across the lake. The Minbari had accepted him now, or most of them at any rate. He was even able to speak with them, and laugh and joke. But none of them were his friends.

  Except perhaps one.

  He heard the soft footsteps that signalled Kats' arrival. He turned to greet the little worker. As always, she was wearing a simple robe of plain white, her only ornamentation the plain necklace that hung around her neck.

  "Satai," he said, nodding his head.

  "David," she replied. He had insisted she use his first name. He had no title any more, and heaven hope, he never would again.

  "It must have been breathtaking," he said, gesturing across the lake.

  "It was," she replied, sitting beside him. "My father brought me here when I was young. He believed all the beauties of our people were embodied in every single drop of water."

  "And it now symbolises the destruction of your world."

  Her hand brushed his and she looked at him sharply. "You are not to blame," she said, firmly. "We have talked about it. Your world is an airless ball of rock. Ours still lives, and you work hard every day to make it live a little more. I have forgiven you for whatever sins you think you may have committed against me, but you will have to forgive yourself, and you are doing that, a little more every day."

  He nodded. "There aren't any dreams any more. At least, not many."

  "That is good. Can you accept what your past has brought you? Mary, Carolyn, Susan, John Sheridan — can you think about all those names now and feel no guilt?"

  "A little, but that is all. Is it so wrong, anyway, to be bound by the past?"

  "Wrong?" Her hand slid from his and gently brushed her necklace. "No, it is not wrong, but we must remember the good things and learn from the bad and then.... Ah, but I am lecturing you, and poorly as well. In truth, I came here to ask you something."

  "Yes?"

  "I have been asked by the rest of the Grey Council to visit Babylon Five soon. They would like one of us to observe things there, at the heart of the Alliance. It is time for us to look outwards again, now that we have repaired much of the damage that was within. We will need a permanent voice in the Alliance Council, and it will be good to speak with the other races in the Alliance. We have been isolated since the war ended, bound up with repairing and undoing. it is.... not good to be too isolated.

  "Would you come with me?"

  "What?" He started, having been momentarily lost in the melody of her voice. "I.... I am happy here."

  "I do not doubt it, but you do not belong here. I do not mean in that you are an alien, but that you are not a man destined to spend the rest of his days farming or building. You are meant for more than that."

  "I've seen more than that, Satai. I've seen great things. I've been at the summit of the galaxy, and do you know what happens up there? Everyone dies. At the top all you can see is chess pieces. You move them around and you sacrifice a city here and a world there, all for the greater good, and you don't see who these people are, or what that city meant to them."

  "I know. You are talking to a leader, remember. But the important thing, the vital thing, is that every leader remembers that. There can be no harm in someone like yourself standing in the ?chelons of power, someone who knows what it is to be.... at the bottom."

  "I don't want to go back."

  "I know, and I will not force you. I am not talking about anything permanent, either. I cannot stay on Babylon Five forever. I have too many duties here. A visit, only.

  "It is just that.... I have a feeling that you belong somewhere, and we are keeping you away from it. We are depriving the galaxy of the good you could do on a larger scale, by keeping you here, doing good on a small scale."

  "I choose to be here."

  "And yet, we do not try to persuade you to go. Think about what I am saying, that is all I can ask. My husband stood where you are now. Once he wielded power, and stood at the right hand of those in power, but he was never happier than where you are now.

  "I never told him this, but I wished he had chosen differently. He was a man who could have done so much more than he did. I kept promising myself that I would talk to him later, that I would allow him a time of peace for now and return him to power later, but.... I would not have the galaxy deprived of your potential as it was deprived of his."

  "Your husband must have been a great man."

  She smiled slightly. "Yes. Yes, he was."

  "I'll think about it. Is that all right?"

  Her smile grew wider. "That is all I can ask."

  * * *

  "I have been.... thinking a lot.... I think you have blinded me, Da'Kal.

  "You took my eye from me in a gesture of anger and fury, and yet....

  "I think I see far better now than ever before.

  "Thank you for that, Da'Kal."

  Da'Kal shifted in the corner of the room. "Are you talking to me?" she asked. "Or yourself?"