Gareth Williams - A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 - Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 3 - On the Edges of Perception

"You are insane."

"I serve the Dark Masters."

"Something's gone wrong." The Alliance ships were opening fire on the Brotherhood. "This isn't what we planned."

"This one shared no part in your plans. We will watch."

"Moreil, damn you!" She turned to leave, but the Wykhheran shimmered into view in front of her.

"You will remain."

Faceless, kill them.

There was no reply.

Faceless!

We can raise no arms against our own, the alien voice hissed in her mind. N ot the creations of Thrakandar and not the Z'shailyl.

Trapped, Mi'Ra tuned back to Moreil. "Please!" she cried. "It's going wrong."

Moreil did not seem to hear her. He was still looking, searching for what he alone could see.

"They took a great deal from us."

Da'Kal looked at him. She had not said anything for a long time, looking at him with a pitying, haunting gaze. G'Kar could not permit himself to look at her, but he had to. The dim light accentuated the fire in her eyes. Her shadow seemed to be almost a thing of its own.

"Of course they did," she replied.

"They gave us a great deal as well."

She looked confused, and then she nodded. "Yes," she said simply. "They gave us pain and suffering and mourning."

"They gave us strength," he corrected her. "They showed us horror and pain, and they took away our weaknesses. We became stronger as a result. We were willing to give everything we had to destroy them. We lived for years in fear and it never broke us.

"They gave us strength."

"Yes," she nodded. "They did. And we will use it against them."

"They gave us their Game. Intrigue, subtlety, assassination. They gave us the Thenta Ma'Kur, the Kha'Ri, the politics. They gave us all that."

"I know that tone of voice," she drawled. "You are reaching a point somewhere, G'Kar. I am listening."

"You are going to destroy them using their own methods. You are using lies and deception and trickery. Do you think I am blind, Da'Kal?"

"For someone so perceptive, you might as well be blind in one eye sometimes. You see, but you do not see."

"You have encouraged the raiders to assault Centauri worlds. You have deepened their involvement with the Shadows. You have sent in 'peacekeeping' Alliance forces. The Centauri have lost their freedom, and not a single Narn has died in the process. Within a handful of years every Centauri planet will be commanded by a Narn 'peacekeeper', yes?"

She nodded. "It was you who convinced me of that plan. I heard your words to the Kha'Ri the last time you were here. Military power alone will not do it. Your words have reached too many people. Too many believe you. They accept peace and unity and togetherness.

"So how better than to use peace and togetherness to achieve our ultimate goals? Yes, we have an agent among those raiders, and yes, we have encouraged them to attack Centauri worlds. We have sent agents into Tuchanq space, to stir up feelings against the Centauri. They are a remarkably gullible people. You would be proud of us, G'Kar. There was a civil war going on. A rebel called noMir Ru was at war with the Government. We stepped in and brought things to a peaceful conclusion. All it took was a finger pointed at the Centauri."

G'Kar bowed his head, remembering a mission he had sent to the Tuchanq. noMir Ru had been one of the delegates his emissaries had met. There had been an incident and she had been knocked unconscious, driven mad by the breaking of her link with the Song. The Tuchanq Government had told him they had the situation under control. There had been a million other things to do, and he had forgotten about them.

"Also in the spirit of togetherness, we reached out to a few other alien races, ones lost and homeless. We offered them a purpose."

Something flickered behind Da'Kal, something in her shadow. G'Kar had earlier thought it had been moving of its own will and volition, but now.... there was something there, something humanoid, but ghostly, something formless and....

.... faceless.

Understanding came in an instant. The force that had stunned him at the memorial. Rumours of Shadow monstrosities fighting with the Raiders. The mysterious deaths of those who had opposed Da'Kal's plans.

"Shadowspawn," he whispered.

"A Faceless," Da'Kal corrected him. "Their Masters are gone now. They are no threat to anyone. Not the Faceless or the Wykhheran or the Z'shailyl or any of them. All they need is a home and someone to protect them. We were happy to oblige. See, G'Kar, we have followed your lessons. Help the weak.

"They are no danger to us."

G'Kar's eyes were wide and horrified. "No! Oh, Da'Kal, what have you done?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought.... hatred and fear, yes. A lack of forgiveness, a lust for revenge, but not this!

"Not the Shadowspawn."

"What is it, G'Kar? How dare you criticise the way I have...?"

"You don't understand. Oh, Da'Kal.... you have killed us all. Every last one of us.

"Both of us have."

It appeared, a still, black monument to ancient power and terror. Motionless against the night, it remained, casting a long black shadow across the battle.

Both sides pulled back, hesitant to cross the line that shadow created.

A voice began to speak, a voice heard in all languages, on all ships.

"This ends now."

Moreil looked at Cathedral with a mixture of longing and terror.

"Death," he whispered as he heard the voice. "You see," he said, to the trapped Mi'Ra. "It is Death come at last."

She looked at him. "You are mad," she said simply, and turned to flee.

The Wykhheran tore her apart with one blow.

"Death," Moreil said again, with more than a hint of satisfaction.

Everywhere he went, everywhere he ran, there were mirrors. Endless people running alongside him, away from him, towards him. All the same person, and yet a little different.

John Sheridan stopped and saw someone staring back at him, a man he did not know. A man who had been able to save his daughter from Orion, to see her grow up. A man who still loved Anna, who had never captured Delenn.

He turned, reeling, and stumbled into another man. A man who had never become a soldier, but a farmer. He had looked up one night to see the sky raining fire.

Staggering, he saw countless images of himself — in a white robe, an Earthforce uniform different from any he knew, a Minbari warrior's outfit, a uniform that seemed part-Earthforce part-Minbari with a strange badge on the shoulder. He saw himself sorrowful, hateful, a murderer, a peacemaker, a leader, a servant, a killer.

Finally he stumbled to a halt, collapsing to his knees. Above him the sky beat like a black heart and clouds of lightning split the darkness. There was a smell he had never noticed before — the smell of an abattoir.

A figure approached him and he looked up, half-afraid of what permutation of his life he would see now.

The mirrors shattered and a familiar figure stood in front of him.

"We do not have time for mirrors any longer," Sinoval said.

"You," Sheridan whispered, understanding dawning at last. "What is this? Some sort of trap. You.... oh, God. You did something to me on that space station. You.... took something, or gave me something. All those dreams.... those mirrors, the voice, the questions....

"All of that was you."

Sinoval nodded.

"So what is it then? Are you trying to drive me mad? Am I a drooling wreck wherever my body is now, staring at bright lights and pretty colours? Is this all just a plan for revenge?"

"Do you truly think so little of me, Sheridan? Do you truly think I would be that petty?"

Sheridan paused, and bowed his head. "No, I don't." He looked up. "But if it served your goals, you would drive me insane in a second, wouldn't you?"