Bester's ship was empty when we found it, and a maze of tunnels fanned out in front of us. Choosing one was a fool's gamble. "This way," Lyta whispered, gesturing toward one path.
"How can you be sure?" I challenged.
"There are people down here," she insisted, "more than one. He can block. He can misdirect. But he can't create other personalities. He would have been able to sense that the other tunnels are empty and this one is not. He would have gone this way."
I took the lead, snapping my denn'bok open. It was more a show of courage than an actual defense, since my pike would be worth little against a PPG. But the ricochet rate would be quite interesting in these caverns, and I hoped that realization would make the PsiCop a little cautious about weapons fire.
We drew close enough to see him as he reached the end of the tunnel. He stood silhouetted by the illumination of the great hall beyond, his back to us, and yet aware of our presence. He looked back over his shoulder and grinned, then slipped off his gloves and gave a mock salute. I stepped forward, ready to battle, yet not knowing exactly what I hoped to prevent. His grin broadened as from the corner of my eye I saw the tunnel wall begin to crumble.
I dove forward out of the path of the falling rock and spun to see if Lyta and Byron were hurt. I found no damage, to them or to the wall, no fallen rock, no disturbance except my own embarrassment at having been duped by Bester's ruse. He turned his back to me again and moved forward into the hall. I rolled to my feet and followed.
What we saw left us speechless. The Great Machine, the device I had heard Michael and Delenn speak of, filled the room before us. Lights, cables, levers, and switches all combined in an endless panoply that hummed and whirred and somehow delighted the senses even as it escaped their understanding. At the center of it all, an aged Minbari, the Draal I had heard them speak of. And between the machine and PsiCop, another figure, the one that had made Bester freeze.
He moved closer to the PsiCop. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or am I an illusion, a trick someone is playing on your mind?"
Bester spun and glared at Lyta. "Don't blame her," he continued. "Oh, she's got the good sense not to trust you. Hell, a lot of people have that. But she doesn't even know what you're after yet, so why would she put me in your way?"
The figure of Michael Garibaldi moved from the base of the machine, taking the little steps two at a time. "Your game isn't playing out very well, though, is it? By now, the Drakh were supposed to have taken control of Babylon 5. That is what they call themselves, isn't it? Amis called them Dark Soldiers, but they call themselves Drakh. Unfortunately for you, they don't have the station. Or can't you tell that from here? I'm told all the noise from the Great Machine makes it hard for telepaths to function down here."
"When did you strike your deal with them, anyway? Was it with the Drakh themselves or did you deal with the Shadows before they left? Then things got confused what with all the wars, and now you're finally paying up. Or trying to. You figured you could get down here, and what? Kill Draal? Or just disable him? And then with your superior mind, you could open a rift in time for them, let them take Babylon 5 back to the time of the Great War. Cute idea, that. Our side takes Babylon 4, your side takes Babylon 5.
"But it wasn't supposed to be so hard to get the station, was it? A few raids, a little panic, everybody wants out, the place is demoralized, the defense falls apart, EarthGov sees big losses and they start screaming to close the place down. And as long as her captain doesn't put up a fight, you've got it.
"Back when you struck your deal, you didn't count on the Alliance. Or the telepaths. By the time you had to make good, it had gotten pretty messy. So, you figured you could turn the telepath colony into a threat, and if you caught a few rogues along the way, that was a bonus, right? But you had to hedge your bets on Lochley, didn't you? Didn't think you could trust her to cave in all by herself.
"That's where you tipped your hand, in case you were wondering. Remember, I know what it's like to have you inside my head. It wasn't hard to see what you were doing to her.
"But you couldn't control all the players, could you? The Centauri were just supposed to lie down and play dead, once your Drakh friends installed their doomsday device on the Island of Selini. No one counted on Londo to develop a backbone, did they?
"But see, it all fits together, except for one important piece. What I can't figure is what's in it for you? I know what the Shadows wanted: a base of operations for the Great War, equal to what Valen brought the Minbari. I understand what the Drakh wanted. They've been honked off at us since Z'ha'dum was destroyed. They want to go home to their masters. But what's your prize? What did the Shadows promise you that was so attractive?
"It wasn't the telepath colony. You couldn't have anticipated that when you struck your deal. And as despicable as it is, it's ordinary for you. You hunt down your own people every day. You don't need help from the Shadows or their allies for that.
"I considered that maybe you just wanted to see Babylon 5 brought down, just out of pure meanness. It would be like you, but it didn't seem like enough. So, I'm stumped. What exactly did they promise you?"
Bester regarded him with a vicious stare, but refused to speak. I wondered if he were sending, putting words or images in other minds, or if he simply had nothing to say. Lyta broke the silence.
"You slime! You had already made your deal with them when you made me sign that vile paper. You didn't want my body! You just wanted to know what to ask for.
"They promised to enhance him, to make him better than the Vorlons could." She shook her head. "They never read you Bible stories back in cadre, did they? As old as the serpent and Eve... they'll make you like a god." A wicked smile swept across her face. "They lied," she hissed.
A diving lurch and a flash of metal marked Bester's response. Before we could react, the PsiCop held a PPG to Byron's head, controlling him, edging back into the tunnel. I moved aside to clear a path for him, but kept my pike at the ready, waiting for an opportunity. Garibaldi spoke again.
"Let him go," he said with a casual shake of his head. "You don't need him. Why would we try to keep you here? What are we going to do, arrest you? We can't prove anything. Outside of this place, it would just be my word against yours, and we know how that turns out, don't we? No, go, go ahead back. The Drakh won't be too upset by how screwed up everything's gotten. I'm sure they'll understand. But if not, well, based on the autopsy the Doc did on that Earther they got to, the brain is about the only organ they didn't touch, so I guess you'll be able to experience the whole thing."
Shoving his hostage forward, the PsiCop crouched into a firing stance, his weapon targeted at the object of his rage. Bester fired three times in rapid succession, but Garibaldi did not flinch. The blasts passed through his chest and splayed scorch marks over the far wall.
"Did I mention," Garibaldi asked, "that Draal has a hell of a holographic projection system?"
A few slashes of the denn'bok dropped a stunned Alfred Bester, and we restrained him before he regained his senses.
When things quieted down outside, Babylon 5 security sent down a shuttle to collect the telepaths. Arrangements were made to carry Lyta and Byron to their new home and Bester to his old familiar cell in the brig. I opted to stay behind, ostensibly to fly the Omega back to the station. I watched the shuttle lift off, then backtracked to the center of the Great Machine.
For a time I simply stood, experiencing, observing, even meditating, much as the Minbari in the core of the machine seemed to do. After a time, I noticed Draal looking at me.
"You have questions," he said.
"Thousands," I replied with a laugh.
He smiled. "Good. That way lies wisdom."
I hesitated, troubled by my own selfishness. "Is it possible for me to speak to Michael?"
He nodded, as a shimmer in the air became solid, and Michael stood before me. He laid a hand to his chest, then extended it to me, the Ranger salute. I returned the greeting.
"You did well," he said. "That wasn't an easy situation."
"You asked me to trust you, and I did. But I still don't understand."
He shrugged. "I was in the way." He laughed a breath. "That's not unusual, I suppose, but..." I watched him bury his hands in his pockets and start to pace. "I was the one who persuaded Londo to cooperate. I knew what the Drakh were holding over the Centauri."
"How did you know? I heard you ask Londo, and he wasn't talking."
"After the first raid on the station, when we chased the raiders back, I did a little poking around. So I was a problem to the raiders, because I knew what scam they were running, and I was a problem to the Centauri, because I could make them look complicit with the Drakh, or - maybe worse to the Centauri mind - make them look weak and subservient to the Drakh.
"I was an obstacle to Lochley. She and I have locked horns from the first meeting, and I don't know why, but we stalemate each other. She'll fly in Sheridan's face. She doesn't care about position or title. Even Delenn doesn't intimidate her, and Delenn is one formidable lady. But when she and I get into it, it's loggerheads. Even Bester couldn't push her past that. But you..." He stopped and smiled at me. "No disrespect, but you she'd walk right over."
I smiled, and he went back to pacing. "Because I was an obstacle to Lochley, I was an obstacle to Bester. He couldn't push her past me, he would have realized I knew he was in her head, and well, he just likes me so much to start with." Sarcasm dripped from his sentence.
"I was even a problem with the telepath colony. Lyta will give me a break, but whatever buttons I hit with Byron, the guy despises me, and..." He blushed. "...he punches more than a few of my buttons, I guess. If I had tried to pull off that move, he and I would still be in Brown Sector arguing. But you..." He looked at me again. "...have established a telepath homeworld." He smiled, and for a moment, I felt foolishly proud of myself.
"Which has yet to be approved by the Council, and which will need continuing protection from the Alliance," I pointed out.
Garibaldi nodded. "All in good time. Anyway, when that many people feel the world would be improved if you just dropped dead, you have to think about giving the people what they want." He shrugged. "I think it worked out pretty well."
"How did you do it?"
"Lochley actually gave me the idea. All that talk about remote operation. Remember I said Chime was going to make some adjustments on my 'fury? A little help from him and a Centauri scout ship to run it from..." He grinned at me.
"You're awful happy for a dead guy. What have you been doing?"
Another shrug. "A little of this, a little of that. I figured I owed Londo something for his help, so I slipped in and did a little modification on the devices the Drakh planted on Centauri Prime. They'll still blow, damn big charges, but not quite the same payload as intended. Couldn't be too obvious, but at least it's not a planet killer anymore.
"And then, waiting for Bester to make his move." He gestured about him. "Here."
"And where is 'here?'"
The form in front of me shimmered into nothing, and a voice came from behind me. "You really should have a look around before you leave. The technology's incredible. But be careful. You could be lost forever in these caverns."
With a smile that mixed relief and pleasure, I turned to Michael. He grasped my extended hand to draw me in, and wrapped his other arm around me. I returned the embrace, grateful for the solid feel of flesh under my arm, unsure if I wanted to release it.
"What now, Michael?" I asked when we stood apart.
"Well, by now, Entil'zha has explained everything to the President, who probably wants to nail my hide to a wall. With Bester out of action, Lochley should be back to herself. The telepath colony is settled in. Somehow, I'll have to make things up to Zack."
"So you are going to come back?"
He fingered the Isil'zha on his jacket. "The Great Machine really can open a rift in time, you know," he said softly. He looked at me silently for a moment, and then his hand moved from his own shoulder to mine. "I'll be back. But you go on ahead. I just need to say goodbye to an old friend."
"How can you be sure?" I challenged.
"There are people down here," she insisted, "more than one. He can block. He can misdirect. But he can't create other personalities. He would have been able to sense that the other tunnels are empty and this one is not. He would have gone this way."
I took the lead, snapping my denn'bok open. It was more a show of courage than an actual defense, since my pike would be worth little against a PPG. But the ricochet rate would be quite interesting in these caverns, and I hoped that realization would make the PsiCop a little cautious about weapons fire.
We drew close enough to see him as he reached the end of the tunnel. He stood silhouetted by the illumination of the great hall beyond, his back to us, and yet aware of our presence. He looked back over his shoulder and grinned, then slipped off his gloves and gave a mock salute. I stepped forward, ready to battle, yet not knowing exactly what I hoped to prevent. His grin broadened as from the corner of my eye I saw the tunnel wall begin to crumble.
I dove forward out of the path of the falling rock and spun to see if Lyta and Byron were hurt. I found no damage, to them or to the wall, no fallen rock, no disturbance except my own embarrassment at having been duped by Bester's ruse. He turned his back to me again and moved forward into the hall. I rolled to my feet and followed.
What we saw left us speechless. The Great Machine, the device I had heard Michael and Delenn speak of, filled the room before us. Lights, cables, levers, and switches all combined in an endless panoply that hummed and whirred and somehow delighted the senses even as it escaped their understanding. At the center of it all, an aged Minbari, the Draal I had heard them speak of. And between the machine and PsiCop, another figure, the one that had made Bester freeze.
He moved closer to the PsiCop. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or am I an illusion, a trick someone is playing on your mind?"
Bester spun and glared at Lyta. "Don't blame her," he continued. "Oh, she's got the good sense not to trust you. Hell, a lot of people have that. But she doesn't even know what you're after yet, so why would she put me in your way?"
The figure of Michael Garibaldi moved from the base of the machine, taking the little steps two at a time. "Your game isn't playing out very well, though, is it? By now, the Drakh were supposed to have taken control of Babylon 5. That is what they call themselves, isn't it? Amis called them Dark Soldiers, but they call themselves Drakh. Unfortunately for you, they don't have the station. Or can't you tell that from here? I'm told all the noise from the Great Machine makes it hard for telepaths to function down here."
"When did you strike your deal with them, anyway? Was it with the Drakh themselves or did you deal with the Shadows before they left? Then things got confused what with all the wars, and now you're finally paying up. Or trying to. You figured you could get down here, and what? Kill Draal? Or just disable him? And then with your superior mind, you could open a rift in time for them, let them take Babylon 5 back to the time of the Great War. Cute idea, that. Our side takes Babylon 4, your side takes Babylon 5.
"But it wasn't supposed to be so hard to get the station, was it? A few raids, a little panic, everybody wants out, the place is demoralized, the defense falls apart, EarthGov sees big losses and they start screaming to close the place down. And as long as her captain doesn't put up a fight, you've got it.
"Back when you struck your deal, you didn't count on the Alliance. Or the telepaths. By the time you had to make good, it had gotten pretty messy. So, you figured you could turn the telepath colony into a threat, and if you caught a few rogues along the way, that was a bonus, right? But you had to hedge your bets on Lochley, didn't you? Didn't think you could trust her to cave in all by herself.
"That's where you tipped your hand, in case you were wondering. Remember, I know what it's like to have you inside my head. It wasn't hard to see what you were doing to her.
"But you couldn't control all the players, could you? The Centauri were just supposed to lie down and play dead, once your Drakh friends installed their doomsday device on the Island of Selini. No one counted on Londo to develop a backbone, did they?
"But see, it all fits together, except for one important piece. What I can't figure is what's in it for you? I know what the Shadows wanted: a base of operations for the Great War, equal to what Valen brought the Minbari. I understand what the Drakh wanted. They've been honked off at us since Z'ha'dum was destroyed. They want to go home to their masters. But what's your prize? What did the Shadows promise you that was so attractive?
"It wasn't the telepath colony. You couldn't have anticipated that when you struck your deal. And as despicable as it is, it's ordinary for you. You hunt down your own people every day. You don't need help from the Shadows or their allies for that.
"I considered that maybe you just wanted to see Babylon 5 brought down, just out of pure meanness. It would be like you, but it didn't seem like enough. So, I'm stumped. What exactly did they promise you?"
Bester regarded him with a vicious stare, but refused to speak. I wondered if he were sending, putting words or images in other minds, or if he simply had nothing to say. Lyta broke the silence.
"You slime! You had already made your deal with them when you made me sign that vile paper. You didn't want my body! You just wanted to know what to ask for.
"They promised to enhance him, to make him better than the Vorlons could." She shook her head. "They never read you Bible stories back in cadre, did they? As old as the serpent and Eve... they'll make you like a god." A wicked smile swept across her face. "They lied," she hissed.
A diving lurch and a flash of metal marked Bester's response. Before we could react, the PsiCop held a PPG to Byron's head, controlling him, edging back into the tunnel. I moved aside to clear a path for him, but kept my pike at the ready, waiting for an opportunity. Garibaldi spoke again.
"Let him go," he said with a casual shake of his head. "You don't need him. Why would we try to keep you here? What are we going to do, arrest you? We can't prove anything. Outside of this place, it would just be my word against yours, and we know how that turns out, don't we? No, go, go ahead back. The Drakh won't be too upset by how screwed up everything's gotten. I'm sure they'll understand. But if not, well, based on the autopsy the Doc did on that Earther they got to, the brain is about the only organ they didn't touch, so I guess you'll be able to experience the whole thing."
Shoving his hostage forward, the PsiCop crouched into a firing stance, his weapon targeted at the object of his rage. Bester fired three times in rapid succession, but Garibaldi did not flinch. The blasts passed through his chest and splayed scorch marks over the far wall.
"Did I mention," Garibaldi asked, "that Draal has a hell of a holographic projection system?"
A few slashes of the denn'bok dropped a stunned Alfred Bester, and we restrained him before he regained his senses.
When things quieted down outside, Babylon 5 security sent down a shuttle to collect the telepaths. Arrangements were made to carry Lyta and Byron to their new home and Bester to his old familiar cell in the brig. I opted to stay behind, ostensibly to fly the Omega back to the station. I watched the shuttle lift off, then backtracked to the center of the Great Machine.
For a time I simply stood, experiencing, observing, even meditating, much as the Minbari in the core of the machine seemed to do. After a time, I noticed Draal looking at me.
"You have questions," he said.
"Thousands," I replied with a laugh.
He smiled. "Good. That way lies wisdom."
I hesitated, troubled by my own selfishness. "Is it possible for me to speak to Michael?"
He nodded, as a shimmer in the air became solid, and Michael stood before me. He laid a hand to his chest, then extended it to me, the Ranger salute. I returned the greeting.
"You did well," he said. "That wasn't an easy situation."
"You asked me to trust you, and I did. But I still don't understand."
He shrugged. "I was in the way." He laughed a breath. "That's not unusual, I suppose, but..." I watched him bury his hands in his pockets and start to pace. "I was the one who persuaded Londo to cooperate. I knew what the Drakh were holding over the Centauri."
"How did you know? I heard you ask Londo, and he wasn't talking."
"After the first raid on the station, when we chased the raiders back, I did a little poking around. So I was a problem to the raiders, because I knew what scam they were running, and I was a problem to the Centauri, because I could make them look complicit with the Drakh, or - maybe worse to the Centauri mind - make them look weak and subservient to the Drakh.
"I was an obstacle to Lochley. She and I have locked horns from the first meeting, and I don't know why, but we stalemate each other. She'll fly in Sheridan's face. She doesn't care about position or title. Even Delenn doesn't intimidate her, and Delenn is one formidable lady. But when she and I get into it, it's loggerheads. Even Bester couldn't push her past that. But you..." He stopped and smiled at me. "No disrespect, but you she'd walk right over."
I smiled, and he went back to pacing. "Because I was an obstacle to Lochley, I was an obstacle to Bester. He couldn't push her past me, he would have realized I knew he was in her head, and well, he just likes me so much to start with." Sarcasm dripped from his sentence.
"I was even a problem with the telepath colony. Lyta will give me a break, but whatever buttons I hit with Byron, the guy despises me, and..." He blushed. "...he punches more than a few of my buttons, I guess. If I had tried to pull off that move, he and I would still be in Brown Sector arguing. But you..." He looked at me again. "...have established a telepath homeworld." He smiled, and for a moment, I felt foolishly proud of myself.
"Which has yet to be approved by the Council, and which will need continuing protection from the Alliance," I pointed out.
Garibaldi nodded. "All in good time. Anyway, when that many people feel the world would be improved if you just dropped dead, you have to think about giving the people what they want." He shrugged. "I think it worked out pretty well."
"How did you do it?"
"Lochley actually gave me the idea. All that talk about remote operation. Remember I said Chime was going to make some adjustments on my 'fury? A little help from him and a Centauri scout ship to run it from..." He grinned at me.
"You're awful happy for a dead guy. What have you been doing?"
Another shrug. "A little of this, a little of that. I figured I owed Londo something for his help, so I slipped in and did a little modification on the devices the Drakh planted on Centauri Prime. They'll still blow, damn big charges, but not quite the same payload as intended. Couldn't be too obvious, but at least it's not a planet killer anymore.
"And then, waiting for Bester to make his move." He gestured about him. "Here."
"And where is 'here?'"
The form in front of me shimmered into nothing, and a voice came from behind me. "You really should have a look around before you leave. The technology's incredible. But be careful. You could be lost forever in these caverns."
With a smile that mixed relief and pleasure, I turned to Michael. He grasped my extended hand to draw me in, and wrapped his other arm around me. I returned the embrace, grateful for the solid feel of flesh under my arm, unsure if I wanted to release it.
"What now, Michael?" I asked when we stood apart.
"Well, by now, Entil'zha has explained everything to the President, who probably wants to nail my hide to a wall. With Bester out of action, Lochley should be back to herself. The telepath colony is settled in. Somehow, I'll have to make things up to Zack."
"So you are going to come back?"
He fingered the Isil'zha on his jacket. "The Great Machine really can open a rift in time, you know," he said softly. He looked at me silently for a moment, and then his hand moved from his own shoulder to mine. "I'll be back. But you go on ahead. I just need to say goodbye to an old friend."