Invoking Darkness (20 page)

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He'd been on the station only five minutes, and already they were re-fighting the argument they'd had two years ago.

"I cannot participate in this war."

"Why not? Why go back there to rot? I know you're not a coward, but you're acting like one."

"The reasons are my own. But I will not fight."

"If you knew all that's been happening, all those who have died, including many of G'Leel's people, you wouldn't be so quick to obey those cowards in the Circle. It's Elric, isn't it. He's got you convinced."

Alwyn waved a hand through the air.

"Solidarity, above all."

Alwyn was always so sure he was right.

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"It was my task, within the hiding place, to observe all that went on outside. I know all that has happened, and all who have died."

He turned to G'Leel.

"It changes nothing."

"How can you say that?"

Alwyn stood.

"How can you sit here and look at her and say that?"

"Alwyn."

G'Leel shot him a warning glance.

"More will die if I do not complete my task."

"Some danger to the mages, is that it?"

Alwyn shook his head, his jaw tight with anger.

"That's all they care about. On Narn millions are starving, others tortured, others rounded up for the slaughter. And they are just one tiny bit of the tragedy that our galaxy has become."

"I know."

Alwyn took a step toward him.

"You know, and what? You don't care? It's more important to follow some ancient Code than to deal with the horror that is right in our faces?"

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"Millions die, but they mean nothing to you?"

Galen found that his hands had squeezed into fists, and he forced them, finger by finger, to open. He must hold to his task, above all. Without that, there was only chaos. Alwyn took another step to stand over him, and the tight brown jacket revealed the rise and fall of his rapid breaths.

"I regretted the way we parted. I thought I was too hard on you, calling you a zombie and saying you didn't care about Isabelle. But it was all true. If you wanted to honor her death, and Burell's, you would defy the Circle, as they did. They died fighting the opening skirmishes of this war, but apparently that doesn't matter to you. You've become this... You're even worse than when I last saw you. You used to care about things, Galen. You used to laugh, and cry. When you were young, you used to run to me and beg me to teach you tricks. Even at the convocation – I remember how nervous you were, how excited to be initiated and finally get your own ship. And now – I don't know what happened. I feel like I'm talking to a wall. I look in your eyes, and the boy I knew, the boy I loved, isn't there anymore. I'm not even sure you're quite Human."

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"I control myself," Galen said.

"At what price?"

"At whatever price is required," Galen said.

Alwyn turned away, went to the refrigerator, took out a beer. In one long gulp he drank down half of it. G'Leel shook her head.

"That's going to help."

"I know you've been through some hard times," Alwyn said to Galen.

"We all have."

He lowered his head.

"Not a day passes that I don't think of Carvin. Her laugh. Her incredible grace."

He met Galen's gaze.

"But I honor her by fighting the Shadows. And by living my life as she would have wanted me to live it."

He guzzled the rest of the beer, slammed down the empty bottle.

"You and I together – we could have stopped this war by now. Instead you hide away. You won't even tell me your spell. If I'd had that power... I could have saved so many over the last two years."

He came again toward Galen, his voice rising.

"I don't understand you, and your father wouldn't either. This isn't how he raised you. He never backed down from a fight. He was nothing like Elric. He didn't sacrifice his integrity for a seat on the Circle."

Anger rose up in Galen, irresistible and overwhelming, and the tech surged in response. Alwyn didn't mean it, he told himself. Alwyn was carried away. Alwyn was speaking to hear himself talk. Alwyn still grieved for Carvin. And though he might not even know it, Alwyn wanted to fight. But Galen would not be provoked. He would not be provoked. He wanted to crawl down deep inside himself, as he used to. But he could not. With oblivion came loss of control.

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4.

G'Leel stepped in front of Alwyn, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You're doing it again. Take a breath, would you? This isn't helping anything."

Alwyn went back to the refrigerator, took out another beer. G'Leel turned to face Galen.

"He had an entire strategy worked out. We'll reminisce about old times. Then we'll find out why Galen is here, and we'll help him accomplish whatever he needs to do. If he intends to return to the mages, we'll gradually convince him to stay, explaining how bad things are, and showing him how much he could help. By the time he's ready to head back, we'll have convinced him to fight with us."

Galen nodded.

"Alwyn was always better at making plans than following them."

"I have to speak my mind," Alwyn said.

"Nothing you can say will change my decision."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Galen continued his exercise.

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At last Alwyn spoke.

"Was contacting me part of your task?"

"No."

He gave a short laugh.

"I didn't think they'd send you to me. So you're already deviating from your instructions."

"I have a piece of information that you should know. Telling you will not disrupt my task."

"Ah, we're to be the recipients of some precious mage intelligence. And what is this valuable information?"

Relieved at the turn in the conversation, Galen conjured an image of the region of the recent Shadow raids. The tech eagerly echoed his command.

"The Shadows' attacks have fallen in a shell-shaped pattern around this sector of space. Refugees have been driven into the center of the sector, an area that has been left unmolested."

Alwyn moved closer.

"I didn't realize the pattern. I know Regula has been inundated with refugees."

"Within the next few weeks, at the latest, the Shadows will launch an attack at this quiet zone in the center, slaughtering the refugees and the inhabitants."

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Alwyn's mouth fell open.

"How do you know that?"

"I know how they think."

Alwyn studied the image anxiously, he could see as well as Galen that his home fell within the endangered region.

"But where within that quiet zone? The area encompasses many systems."

"I suspect that several of the most populous systems will be targeted, but I don't know for certain. Regula could well be among them. I thought you might want to go back home, take some precautions."

Soom had been left defenseless, its cities reduced to barren plains of dust, the town of Lok blasted to shining black scorch marks.

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"I will make sure John Sheridan learns of the upcoming attack."

G'Leel rubbed a gloved finger across her lips.

"How can we defend such a large area? If we knew exactly where they were going to attack, or at least when – we'd have a much better chance."

"Perhaps, in accomplishing my task, I can get further information from Morden."

"We can help you."

G'Leel's red eyes met his.

"Alwyn's plan is a good one, even in reverse order."

Galen dissolved the image, crossed his arms over his chest. He required stillness. Solitude.

4.

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G'Leel looked at Alwyn, and he nodded slightly in response to her unspoken criticism.

"G'Leel is right. We can work together."

He turned to Galen, his face softening.

"I appreciate the information. We need to move quickly and find out whatever else we can. Then... I'll need to get home."

He returned to the couch and sat, laid an arm along the back.

"I suppose we'll go our separate ways."

Alwyn had adopted a new strategy, but he would persist in trying to draw Galen into the war, and into the protection of Regula, until Galen got him off the station.

"I need to work alone," Galen said. "You should leave at once for Regula. I can send you any information I obtain."

"What's your plan? How long will it take?"

"I cannot discuss it."

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Alwyn studied him in silence.

"There's no end to the Circle's secrets, is there?"

He took a drink of beer.

"Tell me, have the mages caught on? Have any of them figured out why they're really in hiding, and the colossal lie the Circle has told them? Have any of them realized what hypocrites and cowards their leaders are? On the day that light finally clicks on, the Circle is going to find that the hiding place can't keep them safe. I told the mages, in three years they would all know the truth."

Circe's voice, a rasping whisper.
Alwyn said three years and – we would all know.
Elric's blackened face, his burned arms crossed over his chest. Alwyn spoke his mind, and others suffered the consequences.

Galen stood.

"One more year, and Elric and the others are going to find themselves facing an angry mob."

Energy bloomed through him in a great rush of heat. Fire raced along the lines of the tech, poured out through his skin. He wanted to burn Alwyn's face black, to crush him to nothingness. He didn't dare remain a moment longer. He turned and left the suite.

"Galen..."

Alwyn called after him.

He had delivered his news to Alwyn. He need not speak to Alwyn again. He must complete his task, and then he must leave. Nothing else mattered.

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As he passed through the corridors of the station, his feet beating out a steady rhythm, he drew the walls of his exercise up around him, receded down that tunnel. The fist of his will closed around him until there was nothing but his footsteps, and the calculations, and far, far off, at the end of the narrow, suffocating tunnel, the floor of the corridor before him. There was no past, no future, only moments, passing one after the next, moving toward their inevitable end, and the energy burning through him, eagerly awaiting his command.

After a time, he became aware of the activity in the station around him. His suffocating hold on himself had loosened some small amount, the tunnel had widened. Still the energy drove through him, yet he had secured his grasp on it, had contained it. He shivered. He could allow his control to loosen no further. The energy had nearly escaped him; he could not risk that again, not here. The walls must hold out everything but his task and the information he needed to accomplish it.

He realized that several hours had passed – time he had wasted, when he should be completing his task as quickly as possible.

Continuing to walk, he flipped through images from various cameras and probes within Babylon 5, searching for those that might be of use. The familiar activity calmed him.

He accessed one of the new probes on the security chief, Michael Garibaldi. Michael entered the secret war room where John Sheridan's alliance planned its campaign against the Shadows. A large image of the galaxy dominated one wall of the bright room. Screens on other walls displayed data on attacks, damage. A few workers monitored the incoming information. In the center of the room a round table glowed from beneath with white light. There, alone, sat John Sheridan, his chin resting on his hands.

Michael approached.

"Ever considered something called a break? I hear it can be quite refreshing."

John looked up. His cheeks were darkened by a five o'clock shadow, and a piece of his short, sandy blond hair stuck up at an odd angle.

"What? I'm still trying to figure out these Shadow raids. We have to know what they're planning."

He turned to a screen on the wall behind him, with a tactical display of the systems attacked. The display showed less than two-thirds of the actual attacks that had occurred. John's information remained incomplete, making the pattern more difficult to detect.

"Their targets have no particular strategic value, no critical resources. They seem totally random. That's the kicker. If we can't figure out the Shadows' strategy, where they'll strike next, they're going to keep wiping out populations and there's not a damn thing we can do to stop it."

"We've been over it a dozen times."

John turned back to him. "And we'll go over it a dozen more if that's what it takes."

Michael raised a calming hand. "I'll be right there with you. But I think some dinner, a good night's sleep, and then we'll pull in Delenn, G'Kar, and try again when we're all thinking more clearly."

John shook his head.

"You're right. I'm not even sure what day it is."

"It's night, and you're late for dinner with Delenn. Now get out of here."

John stood.

"Have you heard anything from Stephen?"

"A couple sightings. That's it. He's quit using his credit chit. Not ready to be found yet."

John headed for the door.

"Maybe tomorrow."

They spoke of Dr. Stephen Franklin, medical chief of staff. Galen did a search for his figure, found him wandering through a small, makeshift bazaar in Down Below, a sector where the mages had left numerous probes. Addicted to stims and overwork, Stephen had abandoned his job to break his addictions and find out who he really was.

He'd told Michael he was going on a walkabout, a spiritual quest undertaken by those who felt alienated from themselves. He would walk and keep walking until he at last met himself. Galen found it strange that Stephen would walk to recover himself; Galen walked for the exact opposite reason.

He shifted to other probes, searching for the Vorlon who had taken Kosh's place as ambassador to Babylon 5. He claimed to be Kosh, pretended that the original Kosh had never been murdered. John and the command staff knew the truth – and Morden, of course – but the rest, it seemed, were deceived. The Vorlons preferred others to think them invincible. The false Kosh was nowhere in sight.