A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

* * *

Darkness washed over Delenn, a great and terrible darkness, as the cloud engulfed her ship.

The Stra'Kath had tried to fight it, but there was little to fight. The Shadow ships that had shimmered into the heavens with the black cloud had merely taken up position by the jump gate, preventing any flight. The Alliance ships had surged at the cloud, only to be torn apart by missiles that burst from inside it. The vast spears tore ships apart, destroying them utterly.

And then the cloud had engulfed the Stra'Kath, and there was only darkness.

And cold. It was so very cold.

'Can we get through to the other ships?' she asked, knowing the answer before she even asked the question.

'No. All communications are down.'

'What can we sense?'

'Nothing.'

'We will not die here,' she whispered. Lyta, can you hear me? We need help. Kazomi Seven needs help.

There was nothing.

John, Lorien. Sinoval. Anyone. We cannot fight this thing. Without the Dark Stars we don't stand a chance. It can destroy us in a heartbeat.

She stopped, the sound of a beating heart echoing in her ears. This thing could destroy them all. It was a weapon capable of destroying whole planets. There were no Dark Stars to oppose it.

Why were they still alive?

Delenn was trying to ponder this when a curtain fell across her mind, and she slumped senseless to the floor.

* * *

Vejar closed his eyes and reached out to the darkness amidst the stars. He could feel it, the malevolent sentience that burned within the Fist of Darkness. The Shadows were every bit as adept as the Vorlons at using organic technology, at corrupting sentient life for their own ends.

And speaking of corruption of sentient life....

Something was coming this way. Souls screaming in prisons of light. With them came the residue of pain and terror and wrongness.

Dark Stars. Aptly named. There were few stars in any galaxy darker than they were.

He paused, and probed a little further. Something was strange. One of them was.... different. The bonds were looser. The bonds had been intentionally loosened. The telepath had more freedom. Not enough, but more. She even had a name. She even had someone to talk to.

Strange. Very strange. Galen would be able to exploit that. Galen would involve himself in this, and do what he could to save Kazomi 7. Galen would generally make a point of interfering.

'Damn you, Galen,' Vejar whispered. 'Look at what you've done to me.'

He reached out, and made contact.

* * *

There was darkness. She was alone, standing in nothing, with ever nothing and only nothing.

'Welcome,' said a familiar voice, and she started. Lyta walked out of the darkness to meet her. The voice was Lyta's, but something.... was wrong.

'Who are you?' Delenn asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

'I'd have thought you would have learned how dangerous that question was by now,' Lyta said jovially. 'I'm no one. I'm.... an idea. A concept. I represent one thought amidst many.

'I'm certainly not Lyta Alexander.

'Nor am I Arthur Welles.' The voice changed, as did Lyta, and suddenly Mr. Welles was there. He was sitting down, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers steepled up before his face.

'Nor am I Marcus Cole.' Again the voice changed, and this time Marcus was before her. There was a terrible wound in his chest, ribs caved in, blood staining the front of his tunic. He did not seem to notice the messy and bloody pulp that was his heart.

'No, I'm.... an idea.' The voice changed again, and Delenn straightened. She was looking at herself. An exact, flawless, mirror image of herself.

'What do you want?' she asked of herself. That was a question she was not afraid of. That was a question she knew the answer to.

'Ah,' the identical Delenn smiled at her, a smile that she would never display, half–mocking and filled with the implication that she knew something no one else did. 'That's better. I want to talk to you. To be precise, I want to warn you. Some of us have sent a message to someone else, but he hasn't received it yet.... and that wasn't really the message we wanted sent, if you understand me.'

'What do you mean?'

'What, does that surprise you?' Sinoval stood before her, his dark eyes staring directly into hers, his terrible, twisted pike raised in his hands. She did not take a single step back. In contrast to the real Sinoval, there was nothing to fear here. 'That there might be factions amongst us? Why should there not be? The Minbari are factionalised, the humans, the Narns, don't even ask about the Centauri. Even the Vorlons were divided on some issues. We are chaos personified.... you honestly thought we all had the same goal, the same ambition, the same purpose?'

'You sought to destroy us all. Do your motives really matter?'

'Touch?.' President Clark smiled. 'But yes, they do. And we never sought to destroy you all. That would not suit our purpose.'

'What is your purpose then? There was a reason for this, I am sure. Tell me! Teach me! Maybe this can all still be avoided. Maybe there can be something good from all this.'

'No.' Lorien's face bore an expression of infinite sadness. 'It's too late for that. Too late by far. We are old. Very old. I remember my first footsteps in the heavens. I looked at all those stars, shining in the black sky, and I remember crying out in pleasure until tears poured down my face.'

Vizhak paused. 'Not actual tears, you understand. We cannot cry.'

'All races can cry,' Delenn said softly. 'In one form or another.'

'A beautiful concept,' said G'Kar, smiling. 'And true, to an extent. Anyway, I saw the stars, and I remember thinking of all the millions of lives that lay out there, across the galaxy, and even beyond the rim. All those lives, all those races we could nurture and help. We could strengthen them, test them, pull them up to their destinies. Few races are as long–lived as we are, and every year we waited, countless billions died.... died before seeing the heavens. Did we really have time to wait?'

'No,' Londo said. 'There was no time for patience. The strong would see the stars, and in their quest to touch them, the weak would rise alongside. Once something has been done by one man, it becomes so very much easier, doesn't it?'

Sonovar snarled. 'But for some of us, there was only revenge. We had been defeated so many times before. Always defeated by the Vorlons, by Valen.... There was nothing left for us. The younger races had rejected us so many times.... why should they benefit from our teachings? Why should we help them to the stars? Burn them all! Let the strong fight for every inch of the journey!'

Neroon looked down, his face full of sorrow. 'Isn't that always the way, Delenn? Hatred wins out over love always. Some of us did love you. Loved all of you. We only wanted to show you the stars.'

'Then stop this!' she cried. 'The war can end now! We can all work together. All of us! You can still show us the stars.'

'No,' whispered a voice, and she stumbled back. It was John. He looked at her, and his eyes shone with the love she remembered seeing there before. His voice trembled. 'It's too late for all that. There are few of us left now. The hatred has ruled us all, and all we can see is our revenge. We have lost, we know that, and this will be the final defeat. There is nothing left, there are no more chances after this.

'We have lost, and so we will leave behind a galaxy of ash and ruin to make it wish we had won.'