Thirdspace, p.16
Thirdspace, page 16
There was no one who was quite as alert to, and concerned about, people crawling inside her mind as was Susan Ivanova. Her mother had been a telepath, and her life had been destroyed by the Psi Corps. Susan herself was a low-level telepath, a secret that she had spent a lifetime concealing, lest she face the same awful fate as her mother. So the notion that anyone was mucking around with her thoughts was anathema to her.
"What's causing this?" she whispered to herself.
Could it, in fact, be Psi Corps? That would be just like them. To launch some sort of covert counterattack in that fashion. Babylon 5 was, to all intents and purposes, at war with Earth, undergoing a state of siege. Perhaps there were Psi Cops wandering the station, inducing the dreams and undermining morale. For that matter, it explained beautifully what Lyta had been put through. After all, if they were going to go after anyone, it would be her, since she would be more than likely to detect any ...
But then ivanova's train of thought derailed. Why Vir, of all people? Why had Vir been dragged into it? Something that was created to undermine the command staff, or to destroy Sheridan, that she could see. Dreams involving the destruction of Babylon 5, or that suggested Sheridan was somehow evil or something like that... those all made sense. But a dream about a city? It was too roundabout. It didn't make sense.
And then there was the fact that Lyta had undergone such a trauma. It indicated something more than Psi Corps, at least to Ivanova. Lyta had been transformed by the Vorlons somehow. Whatever level of psionic power she had, Ivanova's gut instinct was that it wasn't something that could easily be handled by Psi Corps, even by the covert Psi Cops. Lyta had been rattled, she had been controlled, she had been downright terrified.
Ivanova thought about the warnings of "Danger" scrawled all over the interior of Lyta's quarters. Of Lyta's single-minded attempt to attack and destroy the artifact. Of the outbreaks of violence for no apparent reason. Of the incredible darkness and foreboding that seemed linked to that... that thing which floated nearby. That thing that was as black and ominous as the city which had invaded her dreams.
And she knew. She knew beyond all question, past all certainty.
The entire thought process had taken her only seconds as she toggled her link. She was running and didn't even realize it. "Ivanova to Sheridan."
"Sheridan, go."
"I think we've got a problem with the artifact. I think there's terrible danger connected to it."
"What makes you think that?" said Sheridan, sounding worried.
She flashed on the scribbling which had consumed the entirety of Lyta Alexander's quarters.
"I read the writing on the wall," she told him.
First technician Kuehler approached Pandora's box with the key.
He wasn't aware of that, of course. As far as he was concerned, there in the darkness of space illuminated by the mounted framework lights, he was merely placing an energy cell into a broken section of the artifact. A move no more inherently dangerous than anything else he had done during his time on this project.
Kuehler wasn't operating alone on this one. There were several other forklifts around, as well, each doing its part, gently easing the cell into place. He was in direct communication with all of them, overseeing the entire procedure. "Careful... five degrees to starboard ... just ease it on in."
Over his system, a somewhat strident female voice boomed, "C&C to work crew. What're you doing out there?"
He recognized the voice immediately. It was that Ivanova woman. He hadn't been particularly wild about her. Bossy little thing. Thought she was God's gift to outer space. He didn't want trouble with her, but he didn't especially feel like knuckling under to her either. With a slight drawl-which was the tone he adopted when he was speaking with people he'd really rather not be speaking with-Kuehler replied, "Well, the others modified an energy cell, we're seeing if it works in the..."
"By whose authority?" she interrupted.
That threw him slightly. "Well ... yours, I thought." That was no lie. It had been his understanding that everything, every step of the way, was being cleared through Babylon 5's command center. In fact, he remembered thinking how anal retentive the command people had been, wanting to know every move that was made. The fact that such a major step was news to C&C surprised Kuehler. A faint warning bell rang in his head.
"Negative, we never authorized this," Ivanova barked. "Break off. Break off immediately."
There was genuine urgency in her voice ... and more. She sounded alarmed.
He didn't know Ivanova all that well, but he'd seen her in action enough to believe that she wasn't someone who spooked easily. And any situation which was sufficient to engender that sort of reaction had to be something which might pose tremendous jeopardy. "It's too late," he said, his voice now infused with genuine worry. "We have contact."
He tried to issue orders that would cause the forklifts to back off, but it was indeed too late. The energy cell came into contact with the artifact, just barely touching it...
... and Kuehler couldn't quite believe what he saw.
He was more than willing-eager, in fact-to chalk it up to overactive imagination. But it seemed as if the artifact almost... grabbed the cell, pulling it inward, hungrily, like a parched man snatching a canteen. The cell was pulled away from the fork-lifts and snapped into place.
Instantly all the hieroglyphs began to glow at once.
The beginning of the end had arrived.
All over the station, people suddenly stiffened, like dogs responding to high-pitched whistles.
In his cell, Deuce staggered, slamming into the wall with his shoulder, shouting to be let out.
In his quarters, Vir gasped and felt the whisper-light recollections of female hands caressing him, and he wanted more.
In the Zocalo, Leo Rosen's hand suddenly spasmed on his glass of scotch. It shattered, shards digging into his palm, covering his hand with rivulets of blood. He picked the pieces out of his hand in a very distracted manner, as if the pain barely registered, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face. In C&C, Ivanova and the rest of the command crew watched in stunned horror as a gigantic surge of light erupted from the heart of the artifact.
Kuehler had a front-row seat. "Something's happening out here...." he shouted, even though this was self-evident to anyone who happened to be looking in the general direction of the artifact.
He couldn't make out what Ivanova was saying. "Com system's breaking up!" he called out.
It seemed to be rolling toward him-a gigantic ball of light and energy. Frantically Kuehler fired the reverse thrusters on the forklift, even as the com system cleared just long enough for him to hear Ivanova shout, "Get the hell out of there!"
No shit, was the less than inspiring final thought that crossed Kuehler's mind, and then he let out a cry as the artifact came fully to life.
An energy field of unbelievable proportions blossomed forth. Within seconds it annihilated everything around it-the forklifts, the Starfuries, the superstructure ... everything. The object no longer needed a framework of lights to provide illumination. It was generating all the light it needed on its own.
Watching the incandescent display, knowing that something truly terrible had just been unleashed, and seeing it encapsulated in a burst of light, Ivanova was reminded of her own downbeat philosophy. How, in most cases, the light at the end of the tunnel was usually a train bearing down on her.
Susan Ivanova was convinced that she was staring at the biggest locomotive that ever existed in the history, even prehistory, of Mankind. And the tracks had been laid on a direct course-straight through Babylon 5.
Chapter 14
As the artifact glowed, a fiery corona surrounded it. It was like witnessing the birth of a star, and had anyone outside the station survived to witness it, they would have been roundly impressed. Unfortunately, there was literally nothing left of them except free-floating powder, dissipating on the stellar winds even as the intensity of the radiance grew with each passing second.
Within Babylon 5, the lights began to flash and dim, almost in a rhythm. The more fanciful might have come to the conclusion that the artifact had developed a sort of pulse, like that of a living heart, and that heart was now in synchronization with the power sources of the space station itself. There was not a tremendous number of fanciful individuals, however, in the Zocalo. For the most part there were only panicked people who fled that gathering place in panic, even as the emergency lights kicked in.
And once the frightened majority had run off, those who remained were not particularly fanciful, either. In fact, they remained where they were with extremely satisfied expressions on their faces. For they knew their time was at hand. They knew the truth of things. They knew the beauty and glory of the city, and what truly lay within the confines of Thirdspace. They knew the greatness that waited for them. But they realized something. All of them, down in the Zocalo, and in the Sanctuary, and throughout key points at the station ... all of them slowly became aware that something was to be required of them. Greatness was not simply handed down- it had to be earned. And that earning would not be easy, no. But then, trulv great goals were never, easilyJichieyvd^ ^ ...wmuu of the city and its residents. The way had to be cleared for them. Cleared for the One who would be coming through.
Babylon 5 could simply have been obliterated, of course. Smashed into nothingness, blasted into oblivion at the moment when the artifact was activated. But the One wanted a staging area, wanted a facility it could put to use for its minions.
And furthermore, Babylon 5 had known the Vorlons. The One, even from his place in Thirdspace, sensed that. Vorlon feet had trod its floors, Vorlon wings had beat the air, Vorlon energy had been released. Clearly the station had held meaning to that foolish, pitiful, and benighted race, and it amused the One to use the place beloved of the Vorlons for its own purposes.
Besides which, there was the immediate use to which Babylon 5 could be put: namely, as a source of energy. The forces of the One caressed the station with their probes, lapped up the energy eagerly, and readied themselves to make the jump into the new realm. The realm that would soon be taken for the One, sacrificed to the One, destroyed for the One. The One whose names were almost as multitudinous as his ancient eyes or writhing tentacles.
The One wanted Babylon 5, and there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do to stop him ...
... least of all the frustrated pilots in the cobra bay. Delta Squadron had just emerged from Babylon 5 for routine maneuvers, and had happened to do so on the far side of the station. That happenstance of positioning saved their lives, for it shielded them from the initial blast of energy that had wiped out the other Starfuries already out there. Now that the emergency had seized hold of the station, though, the squadrons remaining in the Cobra Bays found themselves stymied. "C&C," came the frustrated call from down in the hangers, "we have no power to the bay doors!"
The squadrons' lack of ability to launch, however, didn't stop residents of Babylon 5 from taking matters into their own hands. Slowly, many of those who were newfound acolytes to the One converged on the entrance to the cobra bays. They milled around at first, as if communing in some strange manner, gaining strength and determination from one another before preparing to make a significant move.
Security squads had already been dispatched to key points of the station as the emergency had kicked into high gear, and one of the squads had taken up positions there at the bay entrances. When they saw the massing crowd, they quickly became aware that an extremely bad scenario was in the offing, and the call went out for reinforcements even before a single violent act had occurred. So it was that when the crowd finally began to surge forward, they suddenly found themselves facing Zack Allan and a troop of twenty heavily armed security guards.
Zack hadn't had a significant amount of sleep in nearly thirty-two hours. His expression was haggard, his voice parched and dry, and he was absolutely in no mood at all to take any crap. "You're all in violation of station ordinance 22V3A," he practically roared. "That means get the hell out ofherer
The acolytes of the One, the keepers of the truth and worshippers of the city, gave as much weight to Zack's warning as they clearly felt it was due: approximately half a second of thought. Then they charged.
And as they attacked, Zack's first thought was, We're gonna need more backup. ...
Sheridan was walking quickly down a corridor, Ivanova practically running to keep up. Every so often the lights would flicker and dim above them as C&C continued in its valiant struggle to find ways of rerouting power back to the main systems. But from what Ivanova already knew, and from what she could determine from her own observations, she knew that they were in deep trouble. In any number of ways, they were locked in a power struggle.
"-engineering reports a fifteen-percent drop in power, continuing to fall."
Sheridan said grimly, "The artifact."
She didn't have to confirm it; clearly it wasn't even a question. "They jump-started the thing, and now it's drained us dry."
He sidestepped a couple of running people and didn't even notice them. "How many squadrons are out there?" he demanded.
"Just Delta Squadron." He blinked a moment in surprise. Ivanova was a self-starter; why was she sitting around waiting on the squadrons when they might be out there doing some good. "Get the rest outside."
"We're trying," she replied. For her part, she was clearly surprised that Sheridan thought it could possibly be that simple. "The power drain has shorted out the controls for the cobra bay doors. They're working on it now."
He realized he should have known. He felt a growing sense of dismay, and couldn't help but believe that they had been masterfully manipulated by this ... this whatever-it-was ... the entire time. And the most frightening aspect of all was that, whatever this thing had set into motion, it had had plenty of time to plan it. Not only the time during which the technicians had mindlessly been swarming all over it, like ants aggressively trying to pull a pin from a grenade, but all the time it had been sitting in hyperspace. Here were Sheridan and his people, frantically trying to head off some sort of plot that could literally have been eons in the making.
He had to force himself to stop thinking in that direction, because it simply wasn't going to accomplish anything. He had to deal with the current situation, and that was all. One step at a time. "Tell them to hurry," he said urgently. "If we keep losing power at this rate, pretty soon we won't be able to launch. Use 'em or lose 'em."
They entered a transport tube and as the door slid shut behind them, Sheridan could only pray that they didn't become immobilized. Who in hell wanted to spend Armageddon stuck in an elevator? "Do we have com systems?" he asked as the transport started up.
"Yeah, but I don't know how much longer they'll last."
Always count on Ivanova to go straight for the downside, he thought, and that was the moment the transport lift chose to shudder beneath their feet. They gripped the sides as the lights went out... but it was only momentary. The lights flared back into existence and the shuddering halted as the lift continued along its path. Sheridan was unable to contain a sigh of relief as he observed, "We can't afford to lose power to the tubes. This place is too big to get around on foot. Direct power to life support, rotational systems, and transportation."
Ivanova nodded in understanding, and then Sheridan's link beeped at him. He tapped it. "Sheridan, go." He heard the voice of Zack Allan over the comlink, but that wasn't all. For a brief, insane moment it sounded to him as if Zack were at some sort of sporting event. Certainly the crowd noise seemed to indicate it. But then the moment passed, and Sheridan realized that the security head was trying to quell a complete riot.
"Captain ... we've got a problem in the cobra bays," Zack said without even bothering to identify himself. "We've got a bunch of people trying to get to the fighters, keep them from launching."
"Do you need backup?" asked Sheridan.
"Already called in the troops," reported Zack. "We can hold 'em here. But we've got similar problems all over the station, It's all random violence, like they want to keep us off balance, disorganized. They look like they're under some kind of telepathic influence."
Sheridan and Ivanova looked at each other silendy as if to say, That's all we need.
"I told my men to use shock sticks to avoid killing anybody..." Zack continued over the link-"though I'm pretty tempted right now. It's not their fault, they're under outside control. We can't kill 'em for that." Then Sheridan heard a bottle shattering. From the loudness of it, it sounded as if someone had tossed a bottle squarely at Zack, who must have just barely managed to get out of its way. A second later he muttered, "Least... not yet..." which more or less confirmed Sheridan's assessment.
"All right... hang tight," Sheridan told him. "Just keep them out of the bays!"
Zack said, "I'll do the best I can." He did not, however, sound overly optimistic.
Sheridan turned to Ivanova and said, "Get to Dr. Trent, see what she's got to do with this. Maybe she knows what that thing is and what it does."
Ivanova's voice exhibited her own barely restrained conviction-that they were facing utter doom-as she said, "I have a nasty feeling that this is only the warm-up. It's shut us down, immobilized us, and now it's powering up. Question is, what is it powering back up for?"
Sheridan had absolutely no idea. However, Ivanova could see in his eyes that he'd already come to a conclusion as to a definite course of action. When the tube doors slipped open, he walked out and headed in the opposite direction from C&C, which was where she had thought sure he was heading. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"To see Lyta," Sheridan told her. She'd already told him about what she had discovered about Lyta, and now was apparently the time for him to take that knowledge and do ... something with it, even if he wasn't quite sure what. "If that tiling's putting out telepathic impulses, she might be able to help. Besides, it's got Vorlon writing all over it. You know anyone who got closer to the Vorlons than she did?"
