Summoning Light (37 page)

Alwyn came out onto the ramp and waved them in. "Hurry! The jig is up. Most of their shots are hitting their own ship, but it's only a matter of time." He ran back inside, disappearing through the open air lock.

Galen brought them down on the ramp. He sent G'Leel in to safety.

Blaylock waited beside him.

"Go," Galen said. "I'm staying here."

In the ship's bright light, Blaylock's thin face was startlingly white, glistening with sweat. His eyes narrowed. "You claimed you came to help the mages, not to seek revenge for yourself."

"I lied. It's something mages often do."

"Your power could help save them."

"I have no desire to save them."

The sleeve of Blaylock's jacket bloomed with blackness, and he stumbled to the side, collapsed onto the ramp. Galen bent toward him, and more plasma bolts shot past.

Galen turned. Alwyn had come back out of the air lock, and as Galen waved him inside, Alwyn was enveloped in an explosion. Plasma erupted through the ramp, burning into his legs. He screamed out, crumbled.

On the walkway far below, one of the grey-skinned aliens stood, firing up at them.

Galen crushed him, crushed him, crushed him.

Shaking, Galen knelt beside Blaylock. Energy raced through him. He was furious at this gaunt, severe man. But still he didn't want Blaylock to die.

Blaylock had protected him, just as she had. And he had failed Blaylock, just as he had failed her. He could not protect; he could not heal. He could only destroy.

More plasma fire erupted through the ramp. Blaylock was still breathing. Galen quickly conjured a platform beneath him and slid him into the ship, then rushed to Alwyn. Alwyn's eyes were squeezed closed, his teeth clenched. The lower part of his robe was charred and fused to his burned skin in an indistinguishable mass. Galen slid him into the ship as well, following quickly into the dark, plain interior.

He hesitated a moment, standing over them, heart pounding. He would have to fly the ship. He would have to leave Elizar behind. His frustration sent a hard shiver through him. There would be no end to this. He would return to the way he had been on Selic, and he could not stand that, could not keep it all within. Yet he could not leave them to die.

He closed the air lock and raised the ramp. As the ship sealed, it lifted off.

But that was impossible. Who was flying it? Galen looked down to Alwyn at his feet, found the place where he had lain now bare. Alwyn was not there.

A few feet away, Blaylock slowly pushed himself up, using elbows rather than hands. The black burn of plasma had vanished from his jacket. He paused a moment to rest, breathing heavily, then climbed to his feet. His severe gaze met Galen's. "A small deception was necessary to get you on the ship. I feared that would be so. We need you, Galen."

Alwyn, Galen realized, was fine. He was flying the ship. The deception had been flawless, fitting perfectly into the situation, allowing him no time to think but only to react. Blaylock had used Galen's own loyalty against him.

The ship was rising higher and higher, taking him farther and farther from Elizar. The energy raged through him. "You need me. What about what I need?"

"I could not allow you to stay and waste your life in useless vengeance. You can do much more. You can be much more."

"How can you say that? How can you spout those fairy tales about God and the will of the universe? I can be only what the Shadows made me to be."

Blaylock was silent for a moment, his pale face revealing no reaction. Yet something in that unyielding expression made Galen think his words had hurt, and he took satisfaction in that. "That is not so," Blaylock said. "I believe everything I profess. Those who created the tech are irrelevant. It is greater than they know. Only we can find its truth."

The floor shook, and Blaylock took a few stumbling steps. The ship had been hit.

A message came from Alwyn.
I could use some help.
The message included the key to access the ship's sensors, and when Galen did, he saw in his mind's eye the full image of the area surrounding them, as if the ship's walls had suddenly become transparent. The dark screen of Alwyn's Shadow ship illusion surrounded them. Beyond it, five ships were following them up into the sky, firing at them. They were not Shadow ships, not nearly as powerful. Yet they were powerful enough; several direct hits would destroy Alwyn's ship. What had saved him thus far was that most of the shots missed their target, the small mage ship hidden within the much larger illusion.

Galen held tightly to the racing, burning energy, to the desire to reach out and destroy. He'd been tricked into coming with Alwyn and Blaylock; he had no desire to help them now. Perhaps they wouldn't make it. At least there would be an end.

Blaylock blotted the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "We are not like the woman in the machine. Some abhorrent variation of the Shadows' technology enslaves her. But we are not slaves."

"No, we're monsters, bringing chaos and destruction. We're programmed by the Shadows. We carry out their will, not the will of the universe."

Blaylock fixed his gaze on Galen, his voice harsh and certain. "We don't have to. Not if we retain control."

"I'm in control," Galen said. His entire body was shaking.

Another message. Galen didn't care what Alwyn had to say. He didn't care if the ship–

It was from Elizar.

Warn the mages. Save them. I will do my part.

Elizar dared to think that Galen would work with him, would trust him. Galen closed his eyes, unable to hold it in any longer. He hated them all, hated Blaylock and the mages, hated Elizar and the Shadows, but above all, hated himself.

The enemy ships were up to a quarter mile away, far beyond where most mage powers would extend, but as he selected his targets and the destruction began to flow, he found he had no trouble reaching them. He couldn't make the spheres any larger than about fifteen feet in diameter, so he targeted areas of concentrated energy within each ship, the dark spheres of destruction forming there. As sections of each ship imploded, one by one they tumbled downward like broken birds.

What the hell is happening? Alwyn wrote.

Then the ships were gone but Galen's energy was not. Perhaps he could still kill Elizar. He looked downward, to the glittering black City Center a half mile away. He focused on the base of the tower, crushed one corner, then another. As those supports vanished, the lower floors slowly bowed outward over the weakened side, curving like the belly of a snake. The top of the tower undulated uncertainly. Then the lower floors bowed out beyond the point of no return, and they began to topple, crashing one by one over the excavation area in a rolling, fluid movement. The massive black structure smashed down across the open ground, reached the end of the excavation area and shattered itself against the buildings beyond.

Galen reached farther into the earth, to the tunnels where Elizar might still survive. But the tech would not echo his command. The tunnels had passed out of range. Furious at his slowness, Galen let loose a barrage of destruction on the broken remains of the City Center. Then they too fell out of range, and he searched for another target. Below he saw the warehouse from which weapons were being shipped to the Centauri. The spells boiled up out of him and he crushed it to nothingness, leaving only an empty lot. Then there was the spaceport, and after that whatever structures remained within his grasp. As the one-term equations burned in column after column, covering the screen in his mind's eye, he cut a swath of destruction through the city. Far below, the structures vanished with a strange silence, leaving only emptiness behind. He must destroy them all, destroy the Shadows for what they had done, for all the hurt they had caused.

Then the ship was too high, and he could destroy no more. He forced the flow of energy to stop. It took him a few moments before he could speak. "Take me to Z'ha'dum," he said, trembling. "Take me now. I will destroy it all."

"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 manipulations – when coupled with those of the enemy – truly 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 Kell's 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 Kosh's 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 Kell's 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 enemy's 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 fabulist's 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 Kosh's ship glided peacefully out of hyperspace, the fabulist descended to the planet's 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 ship's 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.