Thirdspace, p.18
Thirdspace, page 18
... then darkness. But a strange glowing darkness, provided by the artifact. Except it wasn't an artifact, no, it was new and gleaming, a recent construct brimming with life.
And the words ... her words, its words, their words ... swirled in the air around them.
"We had traveled to a thousand worlds," she said with measured pride. "We brought order. Discipline. We appeared to them as beings of light. They saw us as emissaries from the universe. They saw us as gods. And we, in our pride, began to believe them. We believed that we were superior to the universe that gave us birth. We believed we could transcend this dimension, that we belonged to another, higher plane. And in the end, in terms you can understand ... we resolved to storm the gates of heaven itself."
Sheridan felt a chill around him and wondered if it was the air or the words that caused it. The image of the artifact began to grow larger and larger.
Pride. Pride goeth before a fall, that was the saying. Even as Lyta continued to speak, he instinctively knew what she was going to say. She was going to speak of a pride that could lead to the fall of... of everything.
"We applied all our wisdom, all our knowledge, to opening a door to another dimension ... a place we believed was the well of souls, the foundation for all life. We would touch the face of God and, in so doing, become gods ourselves." She paused, her voice becoming even deeper, darker. "We forgot that a door may swing in two directions. We were so concerned with getting out that we never stopped to consider what we might be letting in... until it was too late."
Sheridan could almost feel Delenn's worried gaze upon him, but he couldn't take his eyes off Lyta. There was something akin to genuine fear in her voice. But it was clear that it was not Lyta speaking, but a sort of delayed Vorlon recording. And if the Vorlon was fearful... what in the name of God were they facing?
As if in direct response to his thought, Lyta said, "They are a power beyond comprehension. A hunger beyond understanding. They are anti-life itself. Older even than we were. Telepathic, all of them. They modified the gate so that it enhances their telepathic impulses, creates an army willing to die for them. We fought back, disabled the device, but those of us who were controlled by their influence dropped it into hyperspace before we could stop them. Hid it from us."
"What do they want?" asked Sheridan, his voice barely above a whisper. He had the awful feeling he already knew the answer.
He was right, as Lyta said, "To destroy all life that is not their own. They believe that only they have the right to exist in the universe, that all other life-forms are inferior and must be exterminated. In their own universe they destroyed thousands of races, and continue to destroy thousands more. Because of our pride, they know we are here. They have been watching us from within their dark cities, waiting for a chance to come here ... and destroy."
Delenn, as always, was the more practical. Perhaps, Sheridan realized, it was because she had far more experience dealing with the concept of overwhelming, universe-destroying beings. After all, she'd lived with the knowledge of the Shadows for years before sharing it with him. Speaking with what sounded like a surprising amount of sangfroid, she asked, "Why can't the aliens make a gate from their side?"
"The door must be on both sides," Lyta replied readily. "Close this one, and they cannot come through. We have been searching for it for centuries, hoping to find it and destroy it. We feared this day would come. They must be stopped, or hundreds of worlds will die."
The concept seemed overwhelming. At least with the Shadows, the Vorlons had regarded them as equal opponents. But these beings were daunting even to the Vorlons. What hope in hell did the younger races have? "How?" Sheridan asked, mystified
Lyta said, "Learn ..."
She turned to face him as if truly seeing him for the first time. As if she'd been talking mostly to herself until this moment. She put her hands on either side of his face, and peered into his eyes from deep within the burning whiteness of her own.
And the Vorlon presence, the energy, the essence, the- whatever it was-pulsed from her eyes and mouth into his.
Delenn gasped, took a step back, and prayed to whomever might be listening.
Marlette had barely had time to register that what they were facing indeed looked like some sort of bizarre jumpgate, when suddenly a glow began to emanate from the center. It was an unearthly green light, like nothing that Marlette-or any of the Starfury pilots-had ever seen. "Holy... what the hell is ihatT he asked over the com system, wondering if anyone might have a clue.
But before any sort of response could be forthcoming, the green light seemed to pulse, stretch ... and then Marlette realized that he was seeing something starting to ... to emerge from within.
At first he thought it was an animal. Then he thought it was a ship. And then he didn't know what to think, his mind desperately wanting to shut down rather than continue to witness something that called to the innermost recesses of his Humanity, and made it cringe in terror.
Whatever was coming through the artifact was part squid, part ship, part smoke, part shell... veined, tentacular, a nightmare construct. Something Human eyes were never meant to see.
The Starfury pilots sat there, confused and uncertain. This was unquestionably a first contact scenario, and it was hardly considered good form to greet a first contact by opening fire on it... especially when they hadn't been fired upon first. The last time that had happened, the Minbari had almost annihilated the entire Human race.
And the fact was that this ... this whatever-it-was had not yet launched an assault against the Starfuries or Babylon 5.
Then the first ship came through, and a second emerged moments after the first. They took up defensive positions in front of the gate, opposite each other. Marlette stared in horrified fascination, the way that he had as a kid when he'd come upon a dead cat, with insect life crawling in its guts.
And it was at that moment that Marlette came to a conclusion. Not only was this a jumpgate, but it was a jumpgate that opened straight to hell. A third ship emerged, far less tentatively than the first two, and then a fourth. They ringed the artifact, and then energy beams crisscrossed in front of them. These were thin, gossamer beams, like spider webs, and they enveloped the artifact in a protective cocoon.
Screw first contact. These things were evil, monstrous ... it was as if a deep-seated racial memory was screaming, informing Marlette of the true nature of what they were facing. Whatever the enemy was, it was trying to protect the artifact...
The artifact. That was the key. His orders were to destroy, or at least disable, the artifact, and the fact that ships were now coming through it hadn't altered the status of his orders.
"What the hell is that?" Thomas's voice came from Delta 9. "Some kind of field?"
Marlette said, "Doesn't matter. We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it. Coming around for another run."
Automatically the other Starfury pilots followed, and the ships banked around and headed for the target. The alien vessels seemed to register that the Starfuries were heading toward them and angled slightly to face them head on. They did not, however, open fire, and for just a moment Marlette once again questioned what he was doing.
Then he looked straight at the ships, sensed the evil radiating from them, and hesitated no more. "Fire at will, fire at will!" he called, and the Starfuries blasted away.
Not a single shot reached the artifact. Instead every single one dissipated harmlessly against the spiderwebbed energy field that had been strung around it.
Then one of the alien vessels seemed to ... to bristle, like something was undulating under ... not under its hull, but its skin. Something pulsed along its length and was then vomited out from the front. It seemed like a huge glob of lava, but in the form of pure energy, and it expanded as it headed toward the Starfuries, widening to encompass the entire area that they were occupying.
"Break off!" shouted Marlette. "Break..."
They were Marlette's last words as, a split second later, the bursts enveloped all of Delta Squadron. Thomas let out a scream, and Watkins snarled a profanity, and then the Starfuries simply collapsed in on themselves, crumbling like tissue swallowed by water, and the remaining bits of the ships scattered.
Within seconds there was nothing left-the Starfuries were gone as if they'd never been there at all.
Sheila had just finished cleaning off Leo's wounds as, in the dimness of the room, Alex paced nervously. He heard running footsteps pass by outside and wondered if it was security people or the crazies who had been stampeding around the place.
"You're going to be all right, Leo," Sheila said, putting down the blood-soaked towel. He lay there on the bed and stared up at her as she took his chin and moved his face this way and that, inspecting him. "So who busted your nose?"
"One of the crazy people!" Alex answered for Leo. "Who else? This whole place has gone nuts! Sheila, I'm so sorry..."
"Sorry?" She rose from the bed and looked at him in surprise. "Sorry for what? What did you do?" "What did I do? I brought you here! I told you to come! If it weren't for me, this wouldn't have happened."
"Al, who knew? Don't do this to yourself." She went to him then and embraced him forgivingly.
And from behind them, Leo's voice came, low and ominous, "He's right, Sheila. If it weren't for him, this wouldn't have happened."
"Oh, Leo," she started to say while she turned to face him. And then she was taken aback as she saw the expression on his face.
"If he'd just admitted what he'd done," Leo continued, "admitted it all those years ago... it could have been so different. I would have forgiven you. He seduced you. He was the one who did it," and his voice rose in fever pitch. "He was jealous of me! He was jealous!"
"Leo, you're not right in the head. You took a knock," Alex said, although he was beginning to suspect, with gnawing dread, that it was more than that. "Your own psychic lady, she said..."
"You paid her off. You got to her first. I should have realized it. The two of you, together in it, making me look like a fool. Just like you and Sheila, years ago, doing the same thing."
"Leo," Alex started again.
And then Leo grabbed a bottle of champagne off a nearby table. A special bottle that Alex had obtained there on Babylon 5, for the purpose of toasting their reunion, of celebrating that the awfulness of their history was finally behind them. Seizing it by the neck, Leo swung it around and slammed the base against the table, shattering the bottle. Champagne poured over the floor in a fizzy wave, and he was left holding the neck and three quarters of the bottle, brandishing a fierce jagged edge at his brother.
Alex couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. But then Leo started to advance on him, liquid still dripping off the bottle's jigged edges, and he was murmuring, "If only you'd admitted it... if only you'd admit it now...."
Sheila backed up frantically, pulling on Alex's sleeve as she bolted for the door. It didn't open.
She whirled, her desperate eyes looking to Alex, and Alex faced his demented brother and said loudly, "You were right!"
Leo froze. He cocked his head to one side like an attentive dog. "About... what?"
"Everything! The affair, the jealousy ... even my bribing the telepath lady. Everything."
"I... I was?"
"Yes!" Alex said emphatically. Sheila was staring at him with open incredulity, but then she quickly wiped the astonishment off her face as she realized what he was doing. "Yes, everything! You saw through us, Leo. You were right and everyone else in the family was wrong. We couldn't fool you. We could never fool you. I'll tell them all, Leo. Tell everyone that you were right. You'll be completely vindicated, that's what you'll be." "You'd ... you'd do that?" whispered Leo. "For me, you'd do that?"
"It's only right, Leo. It's only fair. This lie I've been living... it's time to end it."
Leo began to sob. His fingers straightened, the bottle slipping from his hand and thudding to the floor. He opened his arms to his brother.
"Leo," whispered Alex, and he stepped forward toward him.
And in a move so fast that Sheila's eye barely registered it, Leo's arm swung down, snatched the fallen bottle and moved upward in one smooth motion. The jagged bottle buried itself in Alex's chest. Alex's eyes went wide. Blood spread from the point of entry, his shirt turning dark red. Blood began to stream down the bottle and pour out the lip.
"You won't have to live the lie anymore," muttered Leo as he stepped aside and allowed Alex to slide to the floor. Then his crazed scrutiny fell upon Sheila, and he started toward her.
She threw herself against the door ... and it opened a foot. It was just wide enough for her to slip through and she back-pedaled and stumbled into the hallway with a shriek, Leo's blood-soaked hands stretching out toward her. For just a moment he got a grip on her, smearing blood on her shirt, and then she pulled free. With a snarl of fury, Leo pitted his strength against the door and, moments later, he'd cleared enough space to slide through. He saw in which direction Sheila had fled and started off after her.
The One would be pleased with his actions. The rightness of the One filled him, the willingness to wield violence to serve his needs. It was like a blind man suddenly being given sight.
He looked at the blood on his hands and smiled.
It was beautiful. Aside from the city, and the glory of the One, he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.
Sheridan stumbled out of Lyta's quarters with an extremely dazed look on his face. He felt himself starting to wobble, and then Delenn's strong hands steadied him. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, extremely worried over his condition.
She had never seen anything like what she had witnessed within Lyta's quarters, and she was certainly someone who had a good deal of experience with the ways of Vorlons. The manner in which that incredible energy had just poured out of Lyta's eyes and mouth ... it couldn't help but drive home to her just how little she knew, after all this time, about the true practices of Vorlons. It was a frightening and disheartening realization, particularly considering what close allies the Vorlons had been for such a long period of time.
Sheridan was nodding, looking rather unsteady but determined to stay on his feet. "I think so," he said, and then paused a moment to allow some of his strength to come seeping back to him. He pushed off from her, but immediately felt his knees starting to go a bit weak, and so he leaned against the wall for suppoer. Delenn started to reach for him, but a look from him froze her movement. Clearly it was his intention to deal with the momentary wweakness on his own.
That was all too typical of him, and Delenn had still not managed to figure out whether this was John's personality or a determined and pig-header behavior that was typical of the entire species. His voice sounding more like its businesslife self, he continued, "You know what to do?"
She nodded, but her own role in the scheme of things proved secondary to her concerns at that moment. "You should take someone with you," she warned him. She knew what it was that he intended to do, and the thought of his embarking on such a desperate mission alone was frightening to her. Plus, concerns over his well-being aside, it left no backup in case he was stymied, or ...
...worse.
But he was emphatically shaking his head as he said, "No, I can't ... I have to go alone, you heard it...her," he quickly amended, although his confusion was understandable. Whatever the hell that glowing, ethereal being in the room had been, it was far more closely related to an "it" than a "her." He continued, "Go on. Do what you have to do."
He moved off in one direction, she in another. Retracing her steps, Delenn slowed as she heard soft moaning ahead of her. She peered around the corner and, even in the midst of all of the insanity pervading the moment, couldn't help but smile.
The Humans whome Lennier had thoroughly demolished were lying on the ground like so many sacks of wheat. They bore an assorment of balck eyes, bruises and other souvenirs of their altercation with the Minbari. And as for Lennier himself, he was busy tending to their wounds. One of them had a fairly fearsome nosebleed, and Lennier was busy appling pressure to staunch the flow. Another was unconcious, but already had an arm rest agter Lennier had yanked it out of the shoulder socket.
He glanced up at her and nodded. "You look well," he said conversationally, as if they were having a chance and friendsly encounter.
"As do you," she replied. "Come. We have work to do."
He nodded, then brought the arm of the semiconcious nosebleeder up, placing the bleeder's hand fimly against his own norstril. "Maintain the oressure, and that should attend to it," Lennier told him, then rose and went to Delenn's side. Quickly they headed off down the hallway.
What neither of them saw, back in Lyta Alexander's room was the slow closing of the door. Framed in the doorway stood Lyta looking out but, at the same time, looking inward. The unearthliness had disappeared from her voice, but she still had a faraway sound to her as she murmured, "Our mistake. One of many. So many..." With those words, the glow from within departed her, and-every fiber of her heart and soul spent- Lyta slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Ivanova had already checked in Dr. Trent's quarters and hadn't found her there. Now, as she approached the backup C&C which had been made over into Trent's unofficial headquarters, she saw flashes of light from within that seemed like quick sparks or energy discharges. The kinds of things one would see if equipment had been trashed. It didn't exactly give her a good feeling about what she was going to find.
She pulled her PPG just to play it safe, double-handed the grip, and cautiously eased herself around the edge of the door.
"Dr. Trent?" she called.
There was no immediate response. She moved farther into the room, and sure enough, the place had been wrecked. But a quick glance told her that this hadn't been simply a random group of lunatics coming in and wrecking things. There wasn't the sense of free-form chaotic wreckage that she'd have associated with such an assault. Nothing had been caved in or smashed. Instead everything had been knocked around or back, which gave her the gut feeling that there had been some sort of a struggle.
