A Call to Arms (7 page)

Garibaldi addressed Sheridan now. “Good morning, Mr. President. You’re just in time for the weapons demonstration. Shall we?”

“Anytime you’re ready,” Sheridan replied. “You... are ready, I suppose?”

Garibaldi grinned--a dismal sight, given his mood. He slapped Drake on the back, a little harder than was necessary.

“Ready, willing, and able. Isn’t that right, Drake?”

Drake moved a little away from Garibaldi and touched his wrist com. “All hands, prepare for level-one test firing. Repeat, prepare for level-one test firing.”

Then, to the crew member who was manning the weapons console, “Weapons control, stand by.”

“Weapons control, aye, sir.”

With an inquiring look at Sheridan, who nodded, Drake slid into the captain’s chair and looked at the monitor. It revealed its target--a small asteroid, white-faced, pockmarked, and bare, turning slowly in space.

He said, “Target twelve degrees by nine degrees by twenty-five degrees.”

Control repeated, “Twelve by nine by twenty-five, aye, sir. Confirm target lock.”

“Fire,” Drake said.

Even with recoilless gunnery, Sheridan could feel the tremor under his feet as the forward guns fired. The first beams of energy shot blue flame as they smashed into the planetoid.

Drake called out, “Cease fire.” To Sheridan he said, “What do you think, Mr. President?”

“Well, I’m a little disappointed,” Sheridan said. “That’s not much more firepower than the average White Star. I thought these ships were going to give a bigger punch.”

Garibaldi said, “Then I suppose we’ll just have to deliver on our promise. See, that was just level one. Go to level two, Drake.”

Drake looked like a man unfairly put upon. “I don’t--Sir, we haven’t even warmed up the system before today. And there’s... a complication.”

“What kind of complication?” Sheridan asked.

“The enhanced weapons array is based loosely on Vorlon design. They were intended to be used in ships far more advanced then we’re capable of building, with a far greater energy reserve. Firing the big guns takes virtually all our power... so they should only be used as a last resort.”

“Duly noted,” Garibaldi said. “Would you care to try out the next target, Mr. President? Say, that big asteroid over there.”

Not far from their previous target, a large asteroid, the size of a White Star cruiser, crater-ridden and dead, rolled slowly in the darkness of space.

Drake got out of the captain’s chair and went to the acquisition console. Sheridan slid into the captain’s seat.

“You may fire when ready,” Garibaldi said.

From the console, Drake called out, “Weapons control, level two, ready to fire. Target bearing nine by six by twenty-three.”

“Nine by six by twenty-three,” control repeated. “Aye, sir. Target locked, ready to fire.”

Sheridan glanced up at the target. It had changed. Instead of the blank surface of an asteroid, he was looking at the blue and white face of Earth. He blinked, trying to make the image go away.

“Ready to fire, sir,” Drake said, his voice expressionless, his facial expression as good as saying this was a bad idea.

“
No
, “ Sheridan said. “We can’t... How did we---“

“How did we what, sir?” Drake asked.

“That’s the Earth out there,” Sheridan said.

“What?” Garibaldi said.

“I said that’s the---”

Sheridan stopped in midsentence. Looking through the port again, there was no sign of Earth. Only the asteroid ‘s dead face.

“Sir?” Drake said.

“Nothing,” Sheridan said. He stared again at the asteroid, his lips tightly compressed. Damn it, was he hallucinating now? Dreams were one thing, but when he was awake, on duty... Maybe he was getting too old for this.

With an effort, he pulled himself together. “Nothing. Prepare to fire.”

“Standing by,” control said.

“Fire,” Sheridan said.

The lights began to dim. Outside, there was a power buildup at the tips of the
Excalibur’s
left, right, and top structures. There was an audible crackling sound, and suddenly power surged from those points to the front of the ship in a manner reminiscent of Vorlon weapons. The shock was delivered to the asteroid with near instantaneity. The little world was engulfed in a fury of flames. It took less than a second to bring about its complete destruction. Fragments of it formed a confetti-like display before the shock wave dispelled them.

On the bridge, the lights continued to dim. Some of the instruments were registering near-failure levels. And a chill was entering the room, as though the heaters had gone down, too.

Although he had warned them that something like this was going to happen, Drake felt strangely apologetic, as if the power loss had been his fault.

“As I said, it drains nearly all of our energy, leaving barely enough for gravity control. We can’t navigate or fire again for at least a minute.”

“Which leaves the ship vulnerable,” Sheridan said.

“Yes, sir,” Drake said. “For one minute.”

“A lot can happen in a minute,” Sheridan said.

When it happened again, Sheridan was ready for it. Or as ready as he could be when the unexpected stepped in and suddenly took control. He thought he was getting used to it, learning to anticipate it, to recognize the warning signs, like the faint thrilling at his fingertips that told him something strange and unprecedented was taking place. It was like a cross between an adrenaline rush and a panic attack.
Crazy or not, I could almost learn to enjoy this
, Sheridan thought to himself.
I hope that doesn’t prove that I’m losing it.

Regardless, the sights around him were growing dim. He knew it was happening again. He could barely make out Garibaldi and Drake.

And then they were gone entirely.

It was strange, but there on the almost-dark bridge, Sheridan could feel first a breeze, then a wind that came up suddenly from out of nowhere and began tearing at him. But that was impossible. You can feel a lot of things in a starship, but wind isn’t one of them.

Sheridan turned, trying to figure out where the wind was coming from. He saw at once that he wasn’t on the bridge any longer, not on
Excalibur
. He was outside, on a dark plain that extended in front of him as far as he could see. There was a small wood fire burning on the ground nearby. There were six or seven robed figures seated in a circle around it. The figures were silent, mysterious. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw that the encampment was ringed by tall stones, reminiscent of Stonehenge.

It had happened again, but this time, it was different. Whatever mysterious power had seized him before had plucked him again from aboard the
Excalibur
. These beings held the answers to his questions, and there was something about them... something familiar, despite the alienness of the landscape. No, he wasn’t losing it--there was a motive behind his “visions,” and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Glancing upward, Sheridan saw two moons visible in the black velvet sky. This wasn’t Daltron 7. The wind rose and fell, and seemed to speak with a voice of its own, then died down as suddenly as it had arisen. The robed figures were talking among themselves, their voices raised in argument.

Despite the robes, Sheridan recognized them instantly. Techno-mages. He had met their kind before, on Babylon 5. Faced with the Shadow menace, the techno-mages had chosen to depart for some unknown region of space. Before they left, Sheridan had been fortunate enough to speak with their leader, Elric.

Elric had left Sheridan with a lasting impression. He had radiated a sense of calm, resolute power. Of knowing his place in the universe. Of knowing when to act, and when to wait. Despite the agitated nature of their discussion, these robed figures still possessed the indefinable aura that could come only from techno-mages. And they were arguing with one of their number.

One of the techno-mages said, “You shouldn’t have brought him here. You’re endangering all of us.”

Another nodded vehemently. “I agree. It’s foolish. Remember, Galen, we agreed to have no contact with outsiders.”

So it was Galen again, Sheridan thought. The guy was up to his weird tricks once more.

Galen, standing a little apart from the others, said, “And if our silence means the death of billions? You said I should explain myself to everyone involved. He’s involved, whether he knows it or not.”

The first techno-mage said, “Galen, this is premature. We can’t make contact without proof---”

“But we can’t get proof without contacting someone on the outside! This is insanity!”

A second mage said, “Perhaps it is. But these are insane times. And
this
one... is he the best you could do?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Galen said. “He is the one person who can give us what we need.”

He paused a moment, then said, “We all know what is at stake here if I’m right. Yes, we must protect ourselves, but in doing so we cannot turn our backs on those we left behind.”

“All right,” the second mage said. “We will allow this one contact, no more. But if you compromise our hiding place, if we risk death because of your actions... understand that you will be the first to die.”

And suddenly, in a flash of lightning, all the techno-mages were gone. Only Sheridan remained near the fire, and the tall figure of Galen.

“They’re upset with you,” Sheridan said.

“Not upset. Afraid. Fear makes wise men foolish. In my case, I can only hope it makes fools wise.” Galen stooped and stirred the fire, then looked up at Sheridan. “Do you know who... what we are?”

Sheridan said, “You called this an electron incantation. A dead, and probably deliberate, giveaway. You’re techno-mages. You use technology to simulate the effect of magic. I met one of your kind before.”

He remembered clearly the time that techno-mages had gathered at Babylon 5, on their way to escaping the Shadow War. Sheridan had spoken with one of them, Elric, and he remembered being impressed with the wisdom and character of the man.

His brief contact with these almost legendary characters had had a big effect on Sheridan. He had always regretted that he hadn’t had a chance to check out some of the common legends about the techno-mages. It was said that they knew the fourteen words that would make someone fall in love with you, and the seven words to painlessly say good-bye to a dying friend. And that they knew how to rediscover dreams when the world had taken them away.

Galen rose and pushed back his hood so that Sheridan could see him clearly.

He said, “We came to this place during the Shadow War, to prevent our secrets from falling into the wrong hands. Though the war is over, our leaders are in no hurry to return. We will continue hiding for a bit longer: twenty, thirty more years, just to be safe. They like being safe.”

“And where are we now?” Sheridan asked.

Another flash of lightning.

“Wrong question,” Galen said.

“I’m hip.”

“Listen to me carefully, Sheridan. We don’t have much time. The connection between us is a delicate one.”

Squatting, Galen drew a circle in the dirt. He gestured, and the circle filled with the image of a dark world torn by fire.

“Do you recognize this place?”

Sheridan looked at it, and a bitter memory arose within him. This was where his wife Anna had died. At the hands of creatures whose nightmarish nature still made his blood run cold “Yes. Z’ha’dum. Homeworld of the Shadows before they left for the rim.” And the place where
he
had died.

“An ancient race, dedicated to chaos and destruction. They left, but their allies remained. Some of them you know as the Drakh. “

The image in the circle changed to a Drakh face-hideously lined and wrinkled, lips turned down, eyes betraying a bottomless malignancy. It glared out at Sheridan, then, after a moment, disappeared.

Galen said, “We have been watching the Drakh for some time, afraid that sooner or later those who once served other masters would choose to become masters themselves, and continue the work the Shadows began. Lately, we’ve heard rumors, stories from other races who have encountered the Drakh. We believe they are preparing to move, testing their resources, weapons, and capabilities.”

“But with the Shadows gone, their world destroyed... how much power can they have?”

“That’s what you have to find out.”

“Why me?”

“Because I believe they are going to start their war by attacking Earth. Remember, it was Humans who organized the other worlds into opposing their masters during the Shadow War. Such things are not quickly forgotten.”

“You said resources,” Sheridan said. “How much do they---“

“I’ve told you all I can,” Galen said. “And some of what I suspect. That is all I’m allowed to tell you. The rest you and your companions must learn on your own. But do not tell anyone what you are doing, or why; the Drakh have spies everywhere. If they know we are watching, they will move before we can prepare.”

“I don’t think anybody’d believe me anyway. The dreams... all this... they’d think I was crazy. How do I know if any of this is true?”

“You don’t,” Galen said. “But you’re curious enough to want to find out, which is why I chose you. Your spirit is such that you will go, even if it means going alone.” That surprised Sheridan for a moment, made him pause. He knew Galen was right he would see this through. Did that make him a hero, or did it mean he actually was crazy? It didn’t matter, really. There was a job to be done.

Galen stared into the fire for a long moment, then said, “I wish I were going with you. I wish I could help...because if what I believe is true, unless you act, Earth will suffer the fate of Daltron 7.”

The wind came up again, sudden and lashing, filled with dust and debris. Sheridan thought he saw something in the sky: a familiar object. Then a double-forked flash of lightning split the sky. Sheridan was momentarily blinded. When he could focus again, Galen was gone.

But now there were four circles in the dirt. There was a face in each of them.

One of them was his own. The others were unfamiliar: a savage-looking woman with black hair and wild gold eyes; a man who looked like an African American from Earth; and a being who was unmistakably a Drazi.