A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 5 : The Three–Edged Sword

Chapter 5

You will obey us!

"No," Sheridan replied calmly.

"What? Doing whatever you say? Frantically trying to tidy ourselves up, hoping we won't do anything that might upset you? Living without individuality or emotion? Without choice?

"Putting it bluntly, yes, it is too much to pay."

"You don't get it, do you? You really don't. And you never will. I'm not saying we're perfect, any of us, but maybe we don't want to be."

"Maybe, but we'll better ourselves on our terms, not yours. You say you've only ever wanted what's in our best interests?"

"Then leave. Follow the Shadows and get out of our galaxy. Hell, they've left. You won. Congratulations. You don't need to stay any more."

"Really? Well, of course you'd say that. You simply can't admit that this whole thing wasn't about us at all. It was all about you beating them. You fought them for so long, and now you've won you're just sitting around wondering what to do with the rest of eternity. So, you figure, why not? Why not actually try and do something with us, just because you can.

"We're not your guinea pigs, and we're not miniature versions of you.

"At least the Shadows finally admitted it at the end. They accepted they weren't doing any good, weren't doing what they were supposed to do, and they left.

"I'm thinking they might have won after all. At least they admitted their mistake, which is more than you ever have."

There was a cold wind, a chill, icy blast through the room.

They had left eventually, all five of them. Delenn supported Kulomani as before. G'Kar carried L'Neer. Na'Toth walked ahead, alone.

The sound of fighting was very distant, far–removed from reality, but Delenn could feel it with senses more acute than the normal five. She could sense every life flickering and dying, and she wept for every one of them.

Is this the life you wanted, Sinoval? Are all these deaths your desire?

It would stop. It had to stop, and they were the ones who had to stop it.

She was not a warrior. She was a healer.

She repeated those words to herself as they walked, for each step of Kulomani's that dug into her shoulder, for each anguished breath he took, for each rasp of broken bone grating against broken bone.

She would heal him, and she would heal the Alliance.

No one challenged them. No one even saw them. When they finally arrived at Command and Control, the whole place was deserted.

"Behold chaos," Na'Toth said grimly. "They can cover the galaxy with their spies, but they can't stop their spies from fleeing or hiding."

"Actually, they can," G'Kar replied.

"Chaos creeps in everywhere, however much they try to fight it."

Delenn said nothing, but kept walking. The door slid open obediently, and she entered. There was no sign of activity. Through the observation window she could see the battle raging outside. Gently, she laid Kulomani down on a chair. He said nothing.

Picking up the hem of her skirt, careful of her injured ankle, Delenn ran to one of the control panels. She could stop this, order the Dark Stars to stop fighting, contact Sinoval. She looked at the panel and paused. She had studied the systems here. She knew them well.

And yet this.... this was completely alien to her. None of it made sense.

"None of it works," said a bitter voice from the far corner of the room. Delenn whirled. Sitting against the wall, elbows on his knees, looking tired and drained and haggard, was David Corwin.

Na'Toth moved forward instantly, knife in hand. "No!" Delenn called. "He's a friend."

"I know who he is," Na'Toth hissed. "But I cannot trust he is who my eyes say he is."

"I don't blame you," David said, rising. Delenn went to him, brushing past Na'Toth. She looked at David, and then stepped forward to hug him tightly. Her son had been named after him.

"Have you seen John?" he asked her. She stiffened, and pulled back.

"We must do this without him."

"He was.... strange. Like he was before. Distant, and angry and.... I don't know. He looked and acted more like his old self when I saw him on Minbar, but now...."

"We must do this without him," she said, more firmly.

"None of it works. Not a single thing. I've been trying to contact people, to call for help, anything, but none of it seems to work."

"There have been.... revisions to the operating system," Kulomani said. "In the interests.... of efficiency."

"The Vorlons have shut us out."

Kulomani's face twitched in a semblance of a smile. "You made me.... Commander.... of Babylon Five. I would.... have been a poor choice if I.... could be defeated by something so.... simple. Help me to my terminal."

He rose, swaying, holding tightly to the back of the chair. Delenn rushed to his side, but G'Kar was there first. Delenn watched as he made his way painfully to the Commander's terminal. He sat down awkwardly, and began.

It was then that they heard the voices.

Tirivail was dreaming.

She knew that, but she could not force herself awake. She was standing at the top of a giant mountain, looking down upon all the armies of the galaxy massed before her - awaiting her command, her leadership. The finest warriors ever assembled, and she would lead them. Her father was there, kneeling before her to accept her command.

This can be yours, said a voice at her side. She turned, and saw an ethereal being, a spirit crafted of light, attired for war. Lead them against our enemies, and all this can be yours.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The spirit became darker, lightning crackling from it. The sky turned black, the air cold.

Understanding is not required. Questions are not permitted. All that is required is order and obedience. You will obey us.

Tirivail looked down at the armies again. Her sister was there, and her father, and Sinoval, and even Kozorr. She breathed out slowly, although she knew that here she had no need to breathe at all.

"All I have ever known is order," she said calmly. "Obedience to those in command. Not to question, not to think, just to hear and to obey. I have always tried to serve to the best of my ability.

"But I was never good enough. Never. I am not worthy to lead armies, and that is not even what I want to do. You cannot give me what I want.

"I refuse."

You will obey us or you will die.

She smiled. "I am a warrior. I am not afraid to die."

The lightning thundered from the sky and tore into the ground at her feet. The spirit of light faded and a voice came, as if from elsewhere.

"At least the Shadows finally admitted it at the end. They accepted they weren't doing any good, weren't doing what they were supposed to do, and they left."

"Berevain! Berevain!"

"I'm thinking they might have won after all. At least they admitted their mistake, which is more than you ever have."

"Berevain!"

There were two voices, one nearby, one from a long way away. She could not tell which was which, but she knew someone was calling her by a name she did not know. One was speaking to her, the other was just speaking.

A third voice, one as dark and chill as the mountain itself.

"My lady!"

And then she awoke.

Memory returned in an instant. Kats, and the human Inquisitor, and the staff crackling with lightning, and the rush of force that had thrown her against the wall.

"My lady," said the voice. "You wake."

She did not know the voice any more than she knew the face. He was attired as a warrior, but in a strange, almost alien style. She blinked for a moment, and realised that it was warrior garb from a thousand years ago.

"No," he said. "Not Berevain. For a moment, I thought...." The man jumped to his feet in one lithe motion, and held out his hand to her. She backed off and rose unaided. "You are Tirivail," he said. "I remember you now."

She flinched from the anger of the voice in her mind. She looked at the warrior, but it was not he who had spoken. She doubted that any mortal being could speak with so much anger. "Who is that?" she asked him.

He looked puzzled for a moment, and then he nodded, understanding. "You can hear them too, of course. They are our ancestors, or our Gods. They are arguing in the heavens even as we wage war here."

"We have no Gods," she said bitterly. He smiled, but did not speak. "War? Kats!" She spun on her heel and ran towards the observatory. The force of the blow that had struck her had knocked her clean out of the room. Kats was there, with the Inquisitor.

She came skidding to a halt. A wall of blue force filled the doorway. Behind it she could see the silhouettes of figures moving, as if dancing, or fighting. As she reached forward the skin on her hand began to creep, and she pulled back sharply.

"A barrier," said the warrior.

"Kats is in there!"

"So is Sinoval. Whoever he fights cannot have long to endure. Your lady is safe."

"I swore to protect her! I promised his ghost I'd keep her safe!"

"She is safe, my lady Berevain. Now, we have a war to fight. Our enemies are everywhere. If we are to liberate the prisoners, we will need all the help we can get."

"We? Who is 'we'? And who are...?" One of the aliens came into view, dark blood staining his pike. She recognised a Tak'cha when she saw one, then memory returned and understanding dawned, and she realised to whom she was speaking.

"You are Marrain."

His eyes flashed. "Marrain the Betrayer, my lady."

She looked back at the wall of force, and then at Marrain. She nodded once, and then followed him away from the battle.

"Then I guess I'll die."

William Edgars had heard numerous theories about what happened when you died. There was of course the ubiquitous 'life flashing before your eyes', that single moment stretching out into years. But he had always favoured the idea of nothingness - no pain, no fear, nothing at all.

He was wrong, as he discovered.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen Death."

"I assume that word merits the capital letter. I do not disbelieve you, Senator Smith. Tell me what you have come here to tell me."

"There was a box. It was called the Apocalypse Box. It was a.... gateway of some kind, into somewhere else. Something came through. Death.

"I've seen aliens. I've been in space. I've seen and done terrible things, but nothing like that. I never used to believe in a God or the Devil, but if a Devil exists, that's it. It looked at me, and I could feel it inside my mind, examining me as if I were an insect.

"I was wondering if you knew what that thing was."

"The Apocalypse Box?"

"That was the name I knew it by."

"Four years ago our agents were excavating ancient ruins on an abandoned planet. They found various religious objects. One of them, a Mr. Eilerson, managed to decipher the symbols as the work of a cult that worshipped death, recording that death had visited them in the form of a spirit.

"After a great deal of searching they located the temple of this cult, and they found an orb there, the size of a large man's head. They brought it to me personally. I could see dark clouds hovering within it, and I could feel something not quite reaching out to me, just beyond my comprehension. I gave the orb to a colleague of mine called Morden. I didn't want the thing anywhere near me."

"Seedlings, they said. Objects planted in our galaxy through which they could return."

"I see....

"I see."

"Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these things could happen and your lords not know about it?"

"Perhaps. If Sinoval were...."

"No. He has no part of this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. They.... they are angered by the thought of his name."

"Then.... no, they will know."

"I see. Tell me, Mr. Edgars. Do you think these creatures can be defeated?"

"No."

"Nor do I. I can feel them. They touched me, and I doubt that I will ever recover. Whatever they may do to me, I am still a man, and a man pays his debts. You have been good to me, and you have helped me. I know you had your own reasons for doing that, but you helped me all the same. I am going away, but I wanted to repay my debt to you first."

"The gun?"

"You do not want to be here when they come."

"I see. Thank you, Senator Smith. I will ensure you are not delayed on your way out.

"Miss Hampton. My guest will be leaving now. Ensure that he is not detained."

"Yes, sir."

"Cancel the rest of my appointments for today."

"Yes, sir."

"And.... may I take this opportunity to thank you for all you have done for me. I appreciate it, and I know I do not say this often enough."

"Sir? Is everything all right?"

"Yes. I am fine. I just need to.... think about something."

What really happens just before you die is that one single moment of your life is replayed before your eyes.

The woman was precisely one–and–a–half inches taller than him, and perhaps a year or two older. Not a great deal, but enough for a fourteen–year–old. She was wearing the uniform and the black gloves. She fiddled nervously with her badge, trying to make it sit exactly level.

"Do you think it looks all right?" she asked.

"It looks.... fine," he said, stuttering and hesitant.

She looked at him, and his throat went dry. He had known her when they were both children, but then one day she had suddenly gone away. He had learned later that she had been taken in by Psi Corps. He had written, and she had replied.

It was the first time he had seen her in five years, and she seemed to him to be the most beautiful woman in creation.

She came slowly towards him, and he tilted his head, his heart pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. Their lips touched, and he was surprised by how soft and warm they were. He was not aware of anything else at all, nothing could have distracted him from that moment.

Then he felt it.

The merest touch at the front of his mind, like a tiny breath of wind in his face. He pulled back sharply.

"What?" she asked.

And then it hit him. She was a telepath. Everything about her.... was special. She was different - and not just different. She was better. She was superior.

She had something he would never have. She was superior to him, and she knew it.

He ran.

He just wished he could remember her name.

He just wished he had been able to apologise.

"Ah, well," he breathed, or perhaps he only thought the words.

The PPG fell from William Edgars' dead hand. His eyes were closed before it hit the floor.

We are your masters and your saviours.

The words hit them at the same time as they hit everyone else on the station, but for Sinoval and Sebastian they had a far deeper meaning. Sebastian stiffened the instant he heard them, snapping to attention with the instinct of centuries.

They were his masters, and his saviours. The words were simply accepted.

For Sinoval, lying stunned and near–comatose, the words came from a long way away, from far beyond the tidal wave of pain and shock that had swept over him. Stormbringer, his blade, the weapon into which he had poured his soul, was broken.

He had fallen on the field of battle. His weapon broken, his confidence shattered, blind and deaf and mute, he was unaware that Kats had fallen too. To him, the words that sounded in his mind were the confirmation of his defeat.

He was lost.

The words continued, Sebastian still standing stiff and to attention, Sinoval still dazed and paralysed, each man accepting them for what they were, the voice of the Vorlons triumphant and powerful.

And then came the human voice - an angry voice, furious, twisted by grief and rage. It sounded so very different from the calm precision of the Vorlon. It sounded irrational, discordant, off....

It sounded individual.

It sounded real.

It sounded free.

It sounded human.

Sebastian's face contorted into a mask of rage as he heard Sheridan shouting at his master and his saviour, daring to criticise the lord of Light, daring to oppose the reasoned logic, daring even to say that the vanquished Enemy had been triumphant....

.... had been wiser!

"What is this?" Sebastian asked. The voices continued, and he grew more and more enraged. "What is this?!"

Sinoval heard his words, but they were screamed from far away, no more real, or just as real as the others.

"This is your doing!" Sebastian roared. "This is your doing!"

Sinoval did not reply.

Nor did Kats, slumped against the wall, coughing blood and bad dreams while breathing though iron mesh.

All of them heard it. All of them saw it.

"Then I guess I'll die."

"I fear a lot of things. I'm afraid I'll never get to tell Delenn how sorry I am, or how angry I am. I'm afraid you'll carry on walking blind, destroying us all without realising it.

"And I'm afraid no one will actually learn any lessons from all this. That's the greatest weakness we 'ephemeral' beings have, you see. We don't learn from the past.

"But I'm not afraid of dying, and if the choice is death or kneeling before you and kissing your shiny encounter–suited boots, then I'd rather die."

The encounter suit opened, and the blazing light poured out.

The Vorlon spoke in a chill, precise, judicial tone.

They all saw it, and every one of them felt it.

Every single one of them died with him, for just a moment.

And then, as the pain receded, the anger began.

"Son of a bitch!" Susan roared. "You son of a bitch!"

The image stopped with that awful rush of pain through her body. The words faded, along with the powerful surge of emotion that had accompanied them. The anger remained of course. That was hers, not his.

"You worthless son of a bitch!"

That is the price of receiving what you asked for, spoke the eternally level voice of Lorien in her mind.

"They killed him! Just like that! Just because he wouldn't do what they said!"

Yes, they did. That, as was once said, is the problem with mortals. They tend to die.

"How can you be so bloody smug?"

Would anger help?

"Anger always helps."

You have not been close to him for many years. Both of you are very different people from when last you met. What was he to you that you grieve so?

"Listen. This isn't grief. This is anger."

I always believed the two to be one and the same.

"Not on your life. And it doesn't matter what I thought of him. God, I knew Anna. She was my friend, and she's dead as well. And he and I.... we once.... that's not the sort of thing you.... Dammit, I want to kill every last damned one of them!"

Yes, that is anger.

"Can't you help, or were you just going to stand there mouthing platitudes?"

I have done all I can, and I think you will find it was enough for now. As you will soon see. It was a pleasure to know you, Susan Ivanova. I go now with reason to feel proud. You have exceeded my highest expectations.

"What the...? Lorien, what...?"

Time returned, and with it a pause of a single second, and then the furious, shocked voice of the outmanoeuvred white Vorlon.

She did not cry.

She had thought she would cry. This was a moment she had thought about for many years.

This was war. It was a fact of war, a necessity of war, that people died.

He had been ill, some years ago. Terminally ill. She had been prepared for his death.

She could have cried then.

But not now.

As the Blessed Delenn of Mir watched General John Sheridan die, she found she could not cry at all.

She looked around at her companions, searching for their reactions. Na'Toth still stood guard at the door, weapon ready. Kulomani was continuing to work at his console. Perhaps neither of them had seen.

G'Kar's single eye was closed, and he was muttering a prayer in his own language. L'Neer clung tightly to him, and Delenn felt an intense pang of sympathy for the child. After all she had been through recently, this must all be so bewildering for her.

"It's a lie," hissed David's voice. She turned to look at him. Angry tears were pouring down his face. "It's a lie. It's all some trick...."

"A trick to demonstrate how lost they are?" Delenn asked coldly. "A trick to reveal to us their weaknesses, their foolish pride? No, this is no trick. It is real."

"I don't believe it."

"That is your prerogative. I know it is true. It has the feel of a real thing."

She stared at him, and she could see the betrayal in his eyes, the anger and the grief at the loss of a friend and a mentor. Why could she feel none of these things? Why could she feel....

.... nothing?

"It is done," Kulomani said. He had continued working throughout the conversation, throughout the blaze of light and the burst of pain, and throughout the dull, dead silence that had followed. Perhaps he had not heard.

"It is done," he said again. "I heard, and I saw, but I had a task, and it is done." His words were stronger than she had expected, but perhaps the visions had given him strength.

"You can talk to everyone on the station, to the fleets, to anyone you wish," he said. Then he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The sounds coming from his chest were chilling, but Delenn said nothing. She walked slowly over to one of the terminals and activated the newly–freed commpanel.

What to say?

What to say?

There were no words....

It is done. We are defeated.

No, Cardinal. We have won. We have slain their hope. We have killed the one who defied us, as you have killed those who would conspire against us.

It is done. We are defeated. You will not dispute me again.

Yes, Cardinal.

You have been a loyal servant, but loyalty is not a shield, and a hundred loyal acts do not outweigh one disloyal one. We are defeated.

Yes, Cardinal.

You wish to speak.

He is fallen, Cardinal. My prey. He is fallen. I have him.

This was his doing. They all watched, and they all saw our weakness. Anger is a flaw. They all saw this, and that was at his bidding. We have acted in anger once already this day. We shall not do so again. When he is to be destroyed, it shall be an act of purity. You have become too bound up with this one, our servant.

Yes, Cardinal. It is true.

We have been defeated this day. Not by war, nor by arms, but by ourselves. This is not a war for their worlds or their lands or their ships. This is a war for their hearts.

What are your orders, Cardinal?

We have shown them our power. Now we shall show them our mercy. We are creating a sanctuary here, a place of perfection. We desire only those who wish to stay. Those who wish to go may leave. They shall depart unmolested, but they shall be forevermore denied our sanctuary. We saved them from the Darkness, and if they choose to turn their backs on us, then so be it. All who depart this day shall be denied paradise.

He will not stop, Cardinal. He will continue to oppose us.

And we will destroy him - but not from anger. We will remove him because that must be done, and we shall do it in the correct manner, at the correct time. Let him depart.

Yes, Cardinal.

For all his power he is tied to his emotions, and that will destroy him. The female. Already she is dying. She was his reason for fighting, although he never knew it. Mortals understand so little of why they do what they do. He will lead them, and his flaws will become more apparent. He will destroy himself over time, as Chaos always does. You have served us well, in this as in all things. Do not let anger overwhelm you now.

Yes, Cardinal.

You questioned our will, and for that you are to be punished.

Yes, Cardinal. I accept your decision.

He is to live. Leave him, now. Before he wakes.

Yes, Cardinal.

Have no fear. Victory shall be ours, in time. He shall destroy himself.

Sebastian slowly and deliberately lowered his staff, taking two precise steps backwards. Sinoval still lay semi–conscious, twitching and shaking. It would be so easy. A single strike, and it would be done.

No. The thought disappeared as soon as it arose. His Masters had ordered otherwise. They had ordered him to leave, and so he would leave.

There would be another time. Sinoval would destroy himself.

It was.... irritating, but necessary.

Sebastian supposed he still had a long way to travel until he reached the perfection, physical, mental and spiritual, that he had been promised.

He glanced briefly at Kats, still holding the gaping wound in her stomach, blood seeping into her robe and onto the floor. Carefully, he stepped around it and walked on, not giving her a second glance.

This is to all those who can hear us.

We are your friends and your protectors. We are your saviours and your salvation. We want only the best for you.

We want you to see this for yourselves.

And so we say this. Those who desire to do so may leave this place. For one hour, we declare a cease–fire to enable this to happen. We will grieve for each and every one of you. Those who depart from this place shall be forever cast out of the light.

To those who choose to remain, we offer perfection, we offer our protection. We are not your enemies, and we never have been. We are your friends.

For those who have raised arms against us, it is not too late. Repent, come before us, and we may be merciful. Your actions will be considered and weighed and it may be that you may yet live. We never forget, but we can forgive.

Those who continue to oppose us, we shall destroy. There is no mercy for those who continue to battle against the Light. There shall be no forgiveness for those who ally with the Darkness, who bring Chaos, who bring war where we seek only peace.

You have one hour. Should this cease–fire be broken, we will respond in kind.

You can trust these words. We do not lie.

His death was regrettable, but necessary. You have seen our justice, and now you will see our mercy.

Remember.

We love you all.

It hadn't even hurt.

It still didn't.

Kats knew there must be pain, but it seemed a far and distant thing. Everything seemed distant to her. She was.... not floating, but drifting - at peace, in perfect emptiness.

"Is this what it was like for you?" she whispered, looking around. "This sense of.... perfection?"

Then she heard her name being called, louder than seemed possible here. She recognised the voice, and hesitated, but then she smiled.

"Wait a little longer," she said. "Please, just a moment. There's one little thing I've got to do."

She blinked her eyes, and now there was pain, stabbing in her gut, filling her mouth, burning in her heart. She cried out involuntarily with the sudden rush of sensation.

"Kats!" he called again. She could see him, his face so near to hers. There was pain in his dark eyes, but more than that, there was something she had never thought to see there.

Fear.

"I am...." She coughed violently, bloody spittle filling the air. "I am here," she said again.

"You're alive," he said. She felt his hands above her heart. "I can save you."

"No," she said.

"I can save you. I can save your soul, at least."

"No."

"But...."

"No!" she said again, loudly. It sounded almost like a shout to her ears, the loudest sound she had ever heard. "We all die. Let me die."

He did not reply in words, but his eyes said everything.

"You have lived your entire life.... by your own rules. Please, respect mine now. Let me die."

He closed his eyes bitterly, and nodded.

"He's been waiting for me all this time.... We can't make him wait.... forever...."

"You don't have to die," he said, his voice filled with bitterness.

"Yes, I do. All mortals do. It is.... what makes us what we are."

His hand held hers now, strong but cold. As cold as death itself. She raised her head as much as she could, as much as the pain would let her, and gently touched his cold lips with her own bloodstained ones.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I.... always.... believed in you."

"My lady," he said simply. Bitter, ashen words.

Then she lowered her head, and the pain was gone.

"There," she said afterwards. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, beloved. I am here now."

"You will return him to me."

"I did not come here to be denied. You will return him to me."

"I served you all my life. I gave you everything I had. I bathed in your light, and obeyed your every word. For you I went to Z'ha'dum and allowed myself and my child to die. For you I allowed the Alliance to remain as it was, without facing up to the problems.

"And you say you owe me nothing?

"I say you owe me everything. But simply return him to me, and I shall leave, and not fight you - for I am no warrior, and I am sick of you. Return him to me and let me disappear. Or I shall fight you with everything I have."

"Because I loved him once, so intensely and so passionately that I had no room in my heart for anything else, and whatever passed between us, that memory still exists. He was a good man, and if he had not been manipulated and controlled he could have been a great man.

"Because he means so much to me and to the people who have survived this, I will not let you throw his body into space and abandon it there."

"I do not want your salvation.

"Or your love."

But she was not the only one to lose someone she loved. Only the most visible....

"I am a warrior. I am Minbari. I am of the Wind Swords.

"We are cold, the cold of stone, the cold of winter. A hard people and a harsh land.

"We were feared because we knew no fear. We would use the bodies of our brothers as weapons if we had to, and know that they would use our bodies as weapons should we fall.

"They called our armies the coming of the cold, and they feared us, because we feared nothing.

"No loss, no grief, no sorrow, no pain could deflect us from our task.

"The coming of the cold."

A pause.

A long pause.

Longer.

"I am Sinoval."

He was holding her cold hand in his. The bier on which he had placed her body was cold. Her body was cold.

"My lady," he whispered softly.

He slumped to the floor against the bier, still holding her hand. He pressed the cold hand to the side of his face.

"My lady," he said again. "My lady, my lady, my lady."

No loss.

No pain.

No grief.

No sorrow.

Could deflect them from their task.

My lady....

"Is it done? Did you do it? Did you do what was so damned important that you'd risk delaying a little longer and almost getting us killed?"

"It's done."

"Was it worth it?"

"I don't know. No, I do. Yes, it was. It was worth it."

"Is there anything else we should stick around for? Anything else that's so important that I can't know about it?"

"No. I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"All right. So what was it?"

"I went to see Mr. Edgars."

"What?"

"I convinced him to kill himself. It's amazing what you can do with the right choice of words."

"What? This.... Why? Do you have any idea what Security will be doing? They'll be out.... We'll never get off–planet."

"It was suicide. That's what they'll see, and if they see more, then.... fine."

"Oh, for the love of.... Why? Can you even tell me that?"

"He did me a good turn. Several."

"That's it? You know he never cared about you, or your cause."

"Any more than you do. No, that was unfair. I know he never cared, but I had to repay him anyway. I have to repay my debts. It proves I'm still a man."

"As opposed to a woodlouse?"

"As opposed to a corpse that just happens to be able to walk and talk."

"....

"I see."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't. Come on, we'd better go."

"Yes.

"We should go."

Eldest.

Ah. There you are. I have been expecting you.

Disturbing words, Eldest. We.... do not understand.

No, you don't. That is the first piece of real wisdom I think I have ever heard from you.

You helped them against us. Why? All we have ever wanted is for them to be perfect. That was our purpose.

You still do not see. You are right. You do not understand. I doubt if you ever will.

You still defy us, Eldest.

I do what I must. If the Younger Races need help, then it is for us to provide that help. If it is necessary that we intervene directly, then so be it.

We do not see why you defy us, Eldest. We revere you. We venerate you. We worship you. Word of your betrayal will be received with great sorrow.

I would rather it was received with great thought.

Eldest, we will remember you always....

What do you mean?

When you are gone.

They waited, in their charnel worlds. Fire and fury had cleansed their universe once. The Lords of Death, they were called, for they worshipped Death with a fervour that eclipsed everything else.

Once they had glimpsed another universe, but the doors had closed before they had had a real chance to see it.

They were patient.

They had all of eternity to wait.

As the walls between them and their prey grew thin.

And weak.

And malleable.