A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 1 : Learning How to Live

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'A glass of orange juice?'

'No, thank you.'

Smith sat down and looked at the man opposite him. William Edgars shrugged and poured himself a glass. He held it up to the light and smiled.

'A legacy of my childhood,' he said. 'No matter how much things change, we can never escape our childhoods, can we? Something always remains, whether on the surface or hidden deep down below. Something is always there. Don't you agree, Senator?'

Smith did not reply.

'In my case, it is a love of orange juice. Something so insignificant. In yours, it's a little more.... obvious. My congratulations by the way. You have done wonders with Sector Three-o-one. Truly.'

'Thank you,' Smith replied. 'Now, I'd like to leave you alone there, and see how you fare.'

'Really? After all the help we have offered you already, as well. Some might see that as ingratitude, Senator. Who was it, after all, who.... arranged for a generous proportion of the Reconstruction Fund to go to Sector Three- o-one? Who was it who arranged for the.... disgrace of Senator Voudreau after her very vocal plans to have Sector Three-o-one completely demolished and rebuilt as a military complex?'

'Both of them were you, and I'm sure so were a lot of the other mysterious events that have helped me. You know full well that I was aware of your involvement.'

Edgars sat down, sipping at his orange juice. 'I did tell you we would be keeping a close eye on your career. You are a man of great promise.'

'You obviously control half the Senate....'

'A little more than half, actually, but please continue.'

'You've seeded it with people in your pocket one way or another. So what do you need me for? Why not have me replaced by someone guaranteed to do as they're told?'

'Ah, to be fair, some did feel that would be appropriate. Not me, however. I like you, Senator Smith. I admire your courage and your resolve. I feel there is a lot of potential within you. Thus far, you have been proving me correct.' He smiled, as if at a private joke. 'I do enjoy it when my faith in human nature is confirmed. It makes me feel.... content.'

'That thing was yours, wasn't it?'

'That...? Oh, you mean the Hand of the Light. Yes, in a sense he was mine. More accurately, he was attached to another division and I merely provided local assistance, but your assumption is correct. A part of the telepath underground in Sector Three-o-one is still operating and a few telepaths are still fleeing there. Some of my.... associates felt it prudent to take steps to shut it down now that it has served its purpose. And with Mr. Trace gone, an agent of the Hand of the Light was sent in.'

'The Hand of the Light? A very melodramatic name.'

'You might not think so, but some of my associates are quite poetic at times.'

'We've arrested it.'

'I was aware of that. I would appreciate his release as soon as possible.'

'The law in three-o-one is not for sale any more.'

'I was not saying it was. However, it is my experience that anything anywhere is for sale at the right price. I would not think of bribing you, though. I would merely remind you that we have an amicable working relationship, you and I, and it is undoubtedly in the best interests of both of us for that relationship to remain amicable. This naturally involves performing certain services for each other. Think of this as a deed done in good faith for a good ally.'

'The law in three-o-one is not for sale. That thing is going to be charged and put on trial.'

'I do have access to several lawyers who will be able to have him released from all charges and set free within days. That would bring a great deal of the affair into the public eye, though, and neither of us would like that.'

'Hire all the lawyers you like. It's going on trial, and so are any more of those things we find in three-o-one. The Pit is off limits to you, and your.... Hand of the Light and your Inquisitors and whatever other agents or creatures or abominations you dredge up out of God knows where.'

'The Hand serves a valuable purpose. They do, after all, only hunt down telepaths. We both share a concern over their power. You are perfectly safe from them, of course. I have made sure you are placed off-limits.'

'Was that meant to be a threat?'

'Of course not. I do not make threats, Senator Smith.'

'Well, I do. Keep them out of three-o-one. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a poker game to get back to.' He rose and made for the door.

'Of course. Good fortune, by the way, although I doubt you will need it. You strike me as a particularly fine card player. Oh, have you heard from Miss Winters recently?'

Dexter stopped and turned.

Edgars simply raised an eyebrow. 'Mere curiosity, I assure you. Have a safe trip home.'

Dexter left. It was only after he had gone and the feeling returned, that he realised that when he had been with Edgars he had not been able to feel the thing's mind crawling around within his. He returned to his apartment with a splitting headache.

* * *

I wish sometimes I could have known G'Kar as a young man. I have spoken to those who saw him then, who heard him speak, and I see the eyes of old men light up at the memory. They told me of a man who could have talked the rocks down from the mountains, who could have charmed fire from the earth and voice from the land itself.

I never heard him speak. Wait, let me correct myself. I spoke to him often during my apprenticeship by his side. I have read all of his speeches. But cold words are pale imitations of the passion and fury he must have had. I have tried to imagine the old man I knew as the young and fiery orator I have heard described to me. Sometimes, when I caught his glance in the dancing shadows of the firelight, I thought I saw something there, but only for an instant and then it was gone.

He had lost so much by that time. We all had, but he seemed to take it all personally. He spoke the names of people I had never met: Neroon, Michael Garibaldi, Alfred Bester, John Sheridan. He spoke of the Great Machine, of Babylon Four and of the technomages, and I almost wept at the thought of all those wonders lost forever from the galaxy.

During the course of the Wars of Light and Darkness, G'Kar changed, irrevocably and permanently. The turning point was probably the Battle of the Third Line, where he lost forever the Godlike power that had been at his fingertips, and saw his dreams for the future vanish a millennium into the past.

But that was only one event. There were countless others. The loss of his eye, the betrayal that was the Night of Blood, the Last Night of Shadow that both of us were fortunate to escape when so many others did not.

Still, there were brief moments of respite as well, tiny pinpoints of light in the darkness. One such occasion he recounted to me. It occurred at the Brakiri Day of the Dead....

L'Neer of Narn, Learning at the Prophet's Feet.

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Whispers from the Day of the Dead — VI

'You have changed greatly, Ha'Cormar'ah.'

'Have I really? So much?'

'Your eyes. They do not burn as they once did. Your breath is tired. Your gestures are slow and heavy. Yes, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, you have changed.'

'I did not think it was so clear. Yes, I have changed. I am tired and weary. I have fought enough, and when I think it is over, there is still more.'

'The war is over then?'