Summoning Light (25 page)

But Galen would not leave. Not until both of his tasks were fulfilled.

In his mind's eye, Rabelna rode the elevator to the top floor.

As they approached the glittering black tower, Galen became aware of a sound, below the din of construction and traffic and people and business. He realized the sound had always been there, since they'd arrived, yet it had existed just below the level of hearing, a deep, subtle pulsation, lost in the noise of the city until now. Here, at the City Center, the vibration became slightly more pronounced. He looked down at the shiny black street. The sound pulsed from below. His sensors revealed indications of a vast underground complex.

A great screech sounded overhead, and Galen jerked his head up to see a dark, spiky shape silhouetted against the glowing sky. G'Leel had once described to them a Shadow ship, a ship as black as space, that moved as if alive. I could swear it screamed, she had said.

The ship cruised over the city canyon as if looking down upon them. Strange, intense energies radiated from it. It passed beyond the pinnacle of the City Center, then dove down behind it, out of sight. That would be where the empty Joncorp lot now stood.

Inside, Rabelna stepped from the elevator, walked down a plain, empty hall, and rang the buzzer beside a door. It clicked open, and she went within.

The entrance to the City Center was marked by three tall, golden doors. Beings trickled in and out. The building, Galen saw now, was made of a strange material. It reflected the light in an odd, shifting manner. If he could touch the wall, he could gain additional information through the sensors in his fingertips. Yet he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

The center door opened to admit them, and they passed through. To one side, several guards stood talking, of a species Galen did not know. Ahead was a line of metaglass booths that served as security gates. Beings entered and were sealed inside. They ran their I.D.s through the reader, and once their authorization was confirmed, the far side of the booth opened to admit them to the building.

Blaylock had created false I.D.s for them, and had breached the City Center database and added their information, authorizing them access to the building. If the tampering had been noticed, or had in some way been insufficient, they would be trapped inside the booths.

Galen stepped inside, and the booth sealed behind him. He ran his I.D. through as Blaylock did, held his hand to the scanner to confirm identification. The booth opened, allowing him to pass. Blaylock joined him.

While most were gathered at the near banks of elevators, he and Blaylock went to the far bank, the one that led to the top floors. They waited for an elevator to arrive. Galen noticed that the lobby's black walls were made of the same material as the building's exterior, and carried the same strange, shifting reflections.

The elevator doors opened, and Galen stepped in beside Blaylock. As they rode upward, they did not speak. They were no doubt being observed. Blaylock stared ahead, his expression unrevealing. Soon enough someone would notice them. Perhaps they would learn something to help save the mages before then; perhaps not. This would be their only chance.

Blaylock had planted their FTL relay nearby. If they were successful in gaining any information, it could be sent immediately to Elric, in the event they were unable to escape. If they were able to escape, then Blaylock could take the information away with him. Galen crossed his arms, the tech's restless energy churning through him.

The room in which Rabelna stood was dimly lit, as Drakh seemed to prefer. Rabelna moved to a desk illuminated by a sleek, low lamp, laid her briefcase there, and opened it. "I have information about the techno-mages." She spoke in English. Although her enunciation was a bit stiff, she seemed to have mastered the foreign grammar, unlike most Drazi. The final s of her sentence lingered with a slight hissing.

Another figure came close to the desk. Galen saw a flash of Human skin, pink fabric. As the figure bent to see what was in the briefcase, a sheet of curly blond hair came into view. It was Bunny.

A Drakh's voice scratched like dry leaves across stone. "We know of the magic workers on Babylon 5."

Rabelna turned. The Drakh was a hulking shadow before the closed door, the outline of its head barely visible, rising in the back into two craggy peaks, one above the other. Galen scanned different frequencies, looking for static. "I assumed your associate had told you by now," Rabelna said. "But has he also told you their plans?"

There, in the corner, the sparkle of static in the darkness.

The elevator doors opened. The top floor seemed deserted. Galen and Blaylock quickly made their way to the room Rabelna had entered. Shadow communications were transmitted in a narrow, focused beam. To detect them, he must be within three feet of the recipient, in this case, hopefully, the Drakh. Once he had tapped into the transmissions, though, he believed he could maintain access at a greater distance. In fact, once a connection was established, he might be unable to terminate it. Memories threatened to return, and he pushed them away.

"What do you know of their plans?" the Drakh asked. He stood just on the other side of the door, a foot away.

Galen scanned for high frequencies, found an area within the Drakh's brain was being excited by energy in a focused, narrow band – a message sent from the Shadow to the Drakh.

Something slipped down over his skin with the whisper of silk. Blaylock had contained both of them within a soundproof shield. Galen had once done the same for her. If he began to yell out the Shadow's words, as she had, the shield would hold the sound within.

"I know everything," Rabelna said. "How much would you like to know?"

He did not want to cast the spell. If he'd translated incorrectly, it could create some massive instability, endangering Blaylock and possibly much more. If he'd translated correctly, he could be overwhelmed by the Shadows' signal. He glanced at Blaylock's gaunt face, realizing Blaylock would be left alone to face the Shadows if he was incapacitated. But there was no choice. This was their best chance to learn the Shadows' plans.

Galen closed his eyes, visualized the one-term equation.

Words bubbled up through him as if they swam through the currents of his blood, as if they permeated every cell in his body, as if they whispered up the twisting strands of his DNA. He was possessed by them; he was the embodiment of them. They were Drakh words, yet somehow, without even translating, he knew what they meant.

The magic workers have rejected us for the last time. They prefer to cripple themselves with rules and stagnate in isolation rather than live free and use their great powers to their full extent. Now they must die. Find out all she knows so that none will escape us.

The flow of words stopped, yet those that had been uttered continued to circulate through him, repeating, breaking apart, recombining.
The magic workers have rejected us. Rejected us for the last time. They prefer to stagnate. Rejected their great powers. Rejected us to cripple themselves. None will escape.
Galen had little sense of his body, beyond the words that whispered through it. Yet he didn't think he was yelling, didn't think he was speaking. There seemed no need. The words seemed to be everywhere, in everything.

Gradually the broken echoes began to fade, and Galen became aware of the Drakh's dark silhouette in his mind's eye, of the voices that spoke. Rabelna and the Drakh settled on a price.

"They are gathering," Rabelna said, "all five hundred of them, in order to retreat to some hiding place. They've purchased an Earth transport, the Tidewell, which will arrive at Babylon 5 shortly."

"We know this," the Drakh said. "We have already destroyed that ship."

"But do you also know," Rabelna said, "that they have made arrangements for a Drazi freighter, the Zekhite, to come to Babylon 5 at the same time? Its captain, Vayda, has been known to have dealings with techno-mages in the past. The freighter can easily carry five hundred. I believe the Tidewell was a distraction."

"That is useful," the Drakh said.

Rabelna handed the Drakh a data crystal. "The Zekhite is scheduled to depart Babylon 5 in thirty-six hours."

Again the words came, flooding through him.
The magic workers have always a hidden deceit. Now that we know their true plan we can destroy them. Once they are all aboard we will destroy the freighter. Direct Morden to handle it. With their foolish Code they have made themselves unfit to survive.

The message stopped, yet he was saturated with its words, and they murmured on, fragmenting, reordering.
Unfit to survive. Their true plan. Hidden deceit will destroy them. Once they are all aboard. Direct the magic workers. Their foolish Code always a hidden deceit.

"Return to Babylon 5," the Drakh said from the darkness. "We will look forward to further information in the future."

Galen felt disoriented in that dark room, as if he were losing his balance. He realized that Blaylock was pulling on his arm. The sensations of his body seemed far away, lost in the echoes of the Shadow's words.

They prefer to cripple themselves with deceit. They are unfit to survive. Now they must die.

Galen held fiercely to the two spells in his mind-one for probe access, the other to decode the Shadow signal. He could not lose contact. He had to get as much information as he could. It could save Elric.

Yet he tried to extend his attention to the hallway around him, to the exterior of the body whose interior ran with whispers. Blaylock was pulling him, saying something Galen couldn't hear. The Shadows' words swathed him in their echoes. He saw movement at a turn in the hall. Three Drakh emerged, and tiny spots of yellow flashed from the muzzles of their weapons. The loud thump of the plasma bolts did not reach him.

He stumbled down the hall after Blaylock, yellow sprays of light blossoming across his vision. Blaylock must have replaced the soundproof shield with a defensive one, and the plasma blasts splashed across it. Blaylock was protecting him. Just as, in another place, she had protected him.

Blaylock dragged him into another room, closed the door behind them, and unfolded the shield from around them to direct it up against the door and the surrounding wall.

They know their order will die. They know they will die. Yet still they persist in their course. Their loss will be a tragedy.

"What the hell's going on out there?" Bunny yelled.

The Drakh's dry voice replied. "Two of the magic workers have come here to learn our plans. They will soon be dead, if they do not surrender."

Blaylock pulled Galen across the room toward the window. Galen was disoriented, part of him wrapped in words, part in the dark room, part here, in a similar dark room, looking out a large window. Outside, shifting lights reflected off the clouds.

Blaylock extended an arm toward the window, his fingers spread wide. From the center of the dark glass, fractures jagged outward in the directions of Blaylock's fingers.

Their order will be a tragedy. With deceit they cripple themselves. With deceit they persist.

Behind them the door opened, and more yellow flashed from the Drakhs' weapons. Yellow ripples spread across the blue-tinged shield.

Rabelna closed her briefcase, picked it up.

Blaylock's face was taut, severe. He thrust his arm to its full length, and the center of the window burst silently outward, leaving a large, ragged hole. Blaylock seized Galen's arm to pull him through the opening, but before they could even move, the glistening glass began to undulate, the jagged edges around the hole swelling, flowing in to heal the wound, sealing it closed.

As the inward flow continued, excess material collected at the center of the newly formed glass, bulging outward. Then, in a single, fluid movement, the excess extended into the room, like a bulb on the end of a narrow stalk. The bulb hovered just over them, turning slightly, as if examining them. Then it retracted into the window, the excess material rippling out across the window and the black wall, disappearing.

The building was some kind of vast, living machine.

They will die. A tragedy.

Blaylock raised both arms toward the window, fingers outstretched. Behind them, the shield was flashing red and yellow. It would not last long.

Blaylock needed his help. The echo of the Shadow's words at last was fading. Galen maintained the image of the one-term equation, though he hoped the Shadow would say nothing more. He had to focus his attention outward. He forced the whispering remnants from his body, broke his connection with the probe on Rabelna.

The immediacy of the present struck him with overwhelming force.

A high-pitched, screeching whine filled the room. It came from Blaylock's shield, near failure. On the far side of it, the Drakh continued to fire, plasma bolts bursting from their weapons with powerful thumps. With each impact the shield flashed red, and the whine rose in intensity.

Galen visualized the screen in his mind's eye, conjured fireball after fireball, arranging them in rows aimed at the door. Without giving them movement, he calculated an equation of motion that would send them all converging on the doorway at top speed. When the shield failed, he would use it. Galen looked toward Blaylock.

Arcs of brilliant white electricity shot between the buttons on Blaylock's jacket sleeves. The arcs shot up his arms to his lapel pins, then twisted down to the buttons on the front of his jacket. Blaylock bowed his head, and a blinding light flashed out from him toward the window. The fat, brilliant curl of electricity burned an afterimage on Galen's retina.

The window was clouding over, like an eye covered by cataracts. The greyness spread even into the black wall.

Blaylock lowered one hand. His face was waxy, gleaming with sweat. His raised hand quivered.

Around the edges of the greyness, the black wall was undulating, swelling, and slowly, a healing blackness began spreading inward to transform the grey.