Gareth Williams - A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 - Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 1 - Learning How to Live

Waking came slowly, as always. This world and the next, the one of dream and memory, were growing nearer and nearer with every passing day. He could still hear the hum of the Great Machine in his mind, still regretted the passing of the power he had learned to wield so well.

He had always mistrusted those with power. The Centauri had had power over him and his people, and they had misused it. The Kha'Ri had power, and they used it to play their little games of intrigue and deception.

That, he supposed, was why he had sought power himself. His words had fired the hearts of his people. His speeches had spread thought and wonder wherever they were heard. He could have toppled continents with a word.

Who better to wield power than one who did not want it?

But now.... now he wanted it again. He dreamed of the Machine. He imagined he was there again, and all the years in between had been nothing but an illusion, a dream.

The war was over. The Shadows had gone. What place in this new galaxy for such as him? A leader of soldiers with no enemy to fight. A prophet of doom with no prophecies to utter.

He was not needed, and he knew it. He was not wanted. He was.... a difficulty, a problem.

An obstacle.

He brought his mind back to the discussion at hand. He was still a member of the Alliance Council after all. The number of meetings he attended was few these days, but this was important, and he had made an effort to be here.

Today they would finally choose a Commanding Officer for Babylon 5.

There had been a number of officers acting in that position during its construction and the early weeks. Some had acted with honour and dignity, others.... less so. But there was need for a permanent CO now, and there were a great many candidates. Each name was raised, and each name dismissed for one reason or another.

He ran the names through in his mind. Major Krantz, human, a capable enough officer, if uninspiring, but his ties to Bester still placed him under suspicion, even with Bester missing for all these years. G'Kar remembered his betrayal all too well.

Captain Tikopai, another human. She was competent and painstaking. She did not want the position, however. An underlying sense of cynicism and a daughter on Proxima 3 ensured that.

Carn Mollari, Centauri Lord-General. A fine leader, much admired by his soldiers, and of course highly connected in the byzantine corridors of the Centauri Government. But his race automatically excluded him from the position. The Kha'Ri would not stand for any Centauri in such a position, and nor would many of the other races.

Daro and Taan Churok and the other Drazi would all refuse the position, even in the unlikely event of them being offered it. G'Kar had heard tales of what was happening in the Drazi worlds since the Conflict. Any Drazi who took such a position within the Alliance would be an outcast at home.

The Kha'Ri, surprisingly enough, had not put forward any candidates. The statement given by G'Kael stated they did not feel they had any officers with appropriate experience. G'Kar, who could name at least three, was puzzled, but this was merely one more puzzle. The Kha'Ri had learned too much from the Centauri. Where once he would have understood their little games, and even controlled them to a certain extent, now he was reduced to merely standing by and watching.

Captain Corwin's name came up more than once. He was known to be the personal choice of General Sheridan, but he was not here. In fact no one knew where he was. He had not been seen in over a year. Some thought he was dead.

There were no Minbari candidates. The religious caste was too weak, the worker caste did not desire the role and the warrior caste was too much mistrusted. The spectres of the civil war and of Sinoval's disappearance hung heavy over them all. The Minbari had not even formally appointed an Ambassador here yet. They had always been a private people, and for all the Grey Council's words of opening up their worlds, they were still apart from the other races.

The Vorlons, naturally, said nothing, did nothing, and did not seem to care anyway.

The other races put forward candidates. Llort, Abbai, Vree, Hyach, but none of them had a representative with the appropriate experience, or desire, or the support necessary. This was a highly political appointment, very high-profile. In many ways this person would be the public face of the Alliance.

Delenn was too busy of course, as was Sheridan, as was every other member of this body, even G'Kar himself.

There was one name left, and after countless hours of argument it always came back to him. His lobby was powerful, and his Ambassador carried a great deal of weight. His experience during the Shadow War spoke volumes, and his loyalty was beyond doubt. He had governed Babylon 5 for a few months during the construction and had performed flawlessly.

It was in many ways an obvious choice, if he wanted the post. Which was perhaps why it had taken so long for a final decision to be made.

"Do you want this position?" Delenn asked him finally. There had been many hours of debate, but in the end the Alliance Council was agreed.

"No," Captain Kulomani replied. "I do not, but if there is no one else, if this is how I may best serve the Alliance, if this.... if this is my fate....

"Then so be it. Do you all wish me to command Babylon Five?

"Then very well. I will be your Commander. I will serve as best as I can."

"That is all we ask," Delenn said, smiling. "That is all we ask."

G'Kar flicked a glance at the silent Vorlon in the corner of the room, its bone-white encounter suit seeming to absorb all the light that passed near it. A faint glow came from its eye stalk.

The Vorlon seemed not unpleased with the choice.

G'Kar shivered. It was not cold.

He was quiet, unusually so, even for him. It was strange. He did not seem angry, he did not seem anything at all. He sat in silence in his chair and stared into nothing.

He did not blink once during the entire journey.

If anyone in his crew wondered why they were returning to Babylon 5 without having found what they were looking for, none of them asked. If anyone wondered at the ease with which they were moving through hyperspace, finding their path back to the beacons, no one mentioned it aloud.

If anyone noticed anything.... different about their captain, none of them said a thing.

They merely carried on with their duties, but they moved a little more quietly than usual, a little more carefully, a little more precisely. They spoke in hushed voices, casting the occasional fearful glance in his direction.

He was different, and not in any way they liked.

General John Sheridan did not seem to notice the fear in the eyes of his crew. He did not seem to notice anything at all. In fact, he spent the whole journey back to Babylon 5 staring at the bridge of his ship.

But there were a few, those who had known him longest, people like Ko'Dath and G'Dan, who would swear blind he was not staring at nothing. They thought, in some way they could not truly express, that he was looking at something.

Something none of them could see, and something none of them would probably want to.

But no one spoke about it.

Not a single word.

He could have been sleeping. He could have been resting quietly in his bed, enjoying the peace that comes with old age.

But he was not sleeping. This was not his bed.

And he was most definitely not at peace.

As she did every night, Timov walked into the room slowly and with perfect elegance. In one hand she was carrying a glass of jhala, in the other a glowing light globe.

As she did every night, Timov set the globe on the table beside her husband's bed. Next to it, she placed the glass of jhala. If he did not wake up tonight, one of the servants or medics would come and remove it in the morning, and doubtless drink it themselves.