Obedience. Obedience, the only option.
Anna returned her body to a horizontal position, and the hated Bunny approached. Standing at Anna's side, Bunny crossed her arms, and her eyes narrowed.
Somehow Bunny was inside her mind, pushing at her with the same pressure Anna had felt when she'd carried Bunny inside her body. Bunny was trying to take control away from her, just as the Eye had. Even this tiny piece of herself wasn't secure.
Anna tried to relax, as Justin had directed. But the pressure was increasing, building like a sustained blast from an enemy trying to burn through her skin. What memories was Bunny searching for? Anna remembered every attack she had ever made, and before that, every training exercise. She recalled every lesson the Eye had taught her. What more could there be?
But Bunny pushed through all those memories, the force of her assault coming to bear on the boundary of Anna's mind. Anna had not even been aware of it before, yet the pressure, and the pain, defined it, revealed it, an impenetrable barrier. As Bunny's efforts concentrated on it, the pain built, burning, growing brighter and brighter, intensifying until it enveloped her in brilliant, searing whiteness, the white of the eyes of the liberators.
Anna found herself screaming. The brilliant blank whiteness would suffocate her. Around her the thick whiteness began to shift. Behind that brilliant barrier, vague forms were taking shape – shifting, shadowy silhouettes. Then all at once, the pressure vanished. The searing whiteness faded. The pain released her.
Heaving with the forceful admission and expulsion of air, Anna searched her mind. The shadowy silhouettes formed ghostly afterimages against the darkness. The invader had left. Anna had retained control of this small piece that remained of her. The greatest joy is the ecstasy of victory.
Above her, Bunny stumbled, grabbed the table for balance. "There's a block in her mind – stronger than anything I've encountered. Far stronger than what we do with a mind-wipe – and that completely blocks out a person's past life. No way to break through it without killing her."
Bunny looked up, her gaze falling first on Justin, then the liberator.
"I suppose it was caused by... her conditioning."
Anna closed her eyes. As she took satisfaction in her small victory, her exhausted body fell into unconsciousness.
* * *
"You need to get on the ship now," Galen said.
Alwyn's bloodshot eyes squinted, struggling to focus. With an arm over Galen's shoulders, he still wavered, occasionally lurching to one side or the other.
Galen anxiously scanned the customs area. At this late hour, only a few knots of people awaited departures or arrivals.
Morden himself had returned to his room after the confrontation. He or his agents, though, were sure to show up soon. Morden would want to find the man who had called him a murderer. Whether Morden knew that man was a mage, Galen wasn't sure. If Morden did know, he'd be eager to learn that mage's identity.
Galen had invaded the Command and Control database and secured a departure time for Alwyn just thirty minutes after his meeting with Morden. Galen had to get Alwyn away, had to put his plan into motion. He hoped that if he killed Morden and his companions quickly enough, the Shadows might believe everything the responsibility of one mage: him. If not, if they discovered that Alecto was Alwyn, they would hunt him down on Regula 4 and destroy both him and his place.
Galen turned to G'Leel, who stood nearby with their suitcases, and spoke in a low voice.
"He must not be Thomas Alecto again. Nor should you be G'Leel."
Her red gaze was fixed on him. Alwyn squeezed him and stumbled.
"You have to come with us, Galen,"
"Guy," Galen reminded him softly, trying to disentangle himself from Alwyn.
G'Leel hooked Alwyn's free arm over her shoulders and pulled him toward the security checkpoint.
"Let's go, Mr. Alecto."
"Time to go," Galen said.
Alwyn grabbed him by the jacket, half fell against him with a blast of two-hundred-proof breath.
"Come with us. We need your help."
"I have to finish here. You have to leave."
Alwyn bowed his head against Galen's chest.
"I don't want to go back there."
Galen looked to G'Leel, who shrugged.
"It's not home without her. Just a tomb of memories."
"You must take joy in the memories. She would want that."
Alwyn looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears.
"Is that what you do?"
"Yes."
Alwyn nodded. Apparently he was drunk enough to believe it.
"All right."
He straightened, maintaining his hold on Galen.
"I wanted to take you as a second apprentice, you know. After your father died."
"I know," Galen said.
"When you've finished your task, will you stop to say good-bye?"
"If I am able, I will come to you."
Alwyn smoothed his jacket.
"We won't argue. I promise."
"We won't argue."
Galen took hold of his arm, and with G'Leel steered him toward the checkpoint. They stopped before the security guard, and Galen presented Alwyn's identicard. Alwyn stumbled, and at the guard's look, Galen said, "Afraid of flying."
The guard made a disgusted sound.
"Does he realize we're on a space station here?"
He handed the identicard back to Alwyn, who promptly dropped it.
"He's not the pilot, is he?"
Galen retrieved the card.
"No," G'Leel said. "I am."
She handed her identification to the guard, and her eyes met Galen's. They stared at each other in silence. He hoped that, somehow, she would survive this war.
"There may be a way out you haven't thought of yet," she said. "Don't stop looking."
Galen gave a single nod.
"I wish I could stay with you," she said.
"You have more to do."
"Is there any way to stop them?"
He saw none, though he didn't want to take that hope from her.
"Many are searching."
The guard handed G'Leel her card, but she seemed unwilling to move.
"I trust," Galen said, "that I haven't made any appearances in your dreams."
Her lips suppressed a smile.
"That would be my business."
As she hoisted Alwyn up, her face grew serious.
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
Then she and Alwyn were gone, and he was left alone. Time to get on with it.
Galen strode toward Londo's quarters. It felt good, at last, to be taking action. Energy drove through him, ready for his command. He held it firmly in control. Fed's gun, in his pocket, pulled with a reassuring weight at his side.
As usual, the ambassadorial sector was fairly quiet. Those few who were about shot him curious looks, or moved quickly out of the way. It had been a long time since he had worn the robe of a techno-mage. The movement of the cloth against his freshly scoured skin felt strange, like the brush of a ghost from a different life. He put it from his mind.
He had used his access to the security systems to invade the alarm on Londo's door. He had input his own code, so that the door would open at his command, and inserted a virus. The virus would be activated when he used his code. Once active, it would begin to consume itself, and complete the process in exactly ten minutes. When the virus was gone, the alarm would recognize Galen's code as false and notify security of the breach.
The corridor near Londo's quarters was empty. As Galen approached, he accessed the station's power grid, switched off Londo's electricity. From outside the door, he visualized the equation, conjured the formation of mist within.
The tech echoed the spell eagerly. Londo had been trapped in his quarters once before, in the darkness. He had cursed the techno-mages for their disrespect, had defied them to send their next demon after him. It had been nearly two years, but now Galen had come. He input the code, and the door slid open. He began to count down the ten minutes.
"Is someone there?" Londo called out.
Galen entered the cool room, closed the door behind him.
A few emergency lights pierced the mist, the pretentious, cluttered furnishings casting eerie shadows. Galen accessed his sensors for greater sensitivity, and a brighter image of the room appeared in his mind's eye. Londo had filled his suite with signs of his wealth and power: rich fabrics and laces, ceremonial swords, golden statues. A portrait of a fierce Londo stared down from the wall.
"Who's there?"
Londo demanded.
He was well on his way to becoming the Centauri in the portrait, though he had not reached those heights of confidence and callousness yet.
"Who," whispered Galen, "do you fear it is?"
He dipped his hand into his pocket, deposited a few grain-sized probes on the wall beside the door. The Shadows would expect it, and he would reinforce the perception that he was a novice, predictable.
"You don't frighten me, whoever you are. Show yourself."
Galen conjured a small flying platform beside Londo, and with an equation of motion, brushed it against his great black crest of hair. Londo stumbled backward.
"I have a weapon!"
"I am a weapon," Galen whispered.
Londo banged into a table, grabbed a decorative sculpture, the golden figure of a Centauri god.
"Certainly we don't need these unnecessary dramatics. Let us sit down, in the light, and discuss matters like civilized beings."
"But I am a creature of shadow. And I am not civilized."
Londo backed himself into the wall.
"What are these riddles? What is it you want? Money?"
"I want you to die, slowly. I want to crush you in my hand. I want to erase you from existence."
Londo gave an uneasy laugh.
"Quite thorough."
He peered into the mist.
"What have I done to deserve this?"
"You killed my people."
"The bombing of Narn was Lord Refa's doing, not mine."
"I am not Narn."
"Then who..."
"It is difficult, having so many deaths to your credit that you can barely remember them."
"I am late for a meeting with the captain. He will send someone after me, so if you're going to kill me, I suggest you get on with it."
"They will find no remains."
Galen conjured the globe of light right in front of Londo's face. Londo flinched, hitting his head against the wall. Within the globe, the light followed the pattern Galen had designed. Slowly it molded itself into the shape of the Ondavi, the Centauri freighter Londo had provided for the mages two years ago. The freighter exploded, and a fraction of a second later the globe containing it also shattered, flying apart into small fireballs.
Londo jerked his hands to his face, nearly hitting himself with the statue. The fireballs began orbiting Londo's head.
"That explosion was an accident." Londo was speaking quickly now. "I didn't murder them. I meant them no harm."
He squinted as one of the fireballs floated past his eye. Galen bit out the words.
"You tricked them. You led my entire order to its death."
"No, no, this is all a misunderstanding."
"I'm sure you can't remember them all."
Galen put faces within the fireballs – Ing-Radi, Muirne, Beel, Carvin. They screamed as their skin burned and blackened.
"But perhaps you remember my teacher, Elric."
With an equation of motion Galen brought one of the fireballs in front of Londo, placed Elric's image within it. He burned and blackened like all the rest.
"Unfortunately for you, I wasn't with them. Now I have come to revenge myself upon you."
Galen propelled the fireball around Londo, pressed it to the back of his head. Londo screamed, jumped away from the wall.
Galen wanted to burn him again and again, once for every mage who had died. He couldn't think of them.
There was no past, no future, just the moment, and the task required, and he, the mechanism that would carry out that task. He quenched the fireballs, plunging them back into near – darkness. Londo's panting filled the room.
Galen visualized the spell, conjured a breeze. With equations of motion, slowly he coiled the breeze about Londo. The mist followed its movement. Papers on the desk flipped. He accelerated the air's flow, drew it tighter and tighter around Londo, faster and faster.
"I tell you it was all an accident," Londo yelled, flailing against the wind.
"The ship was old! It didn't even belong to me!"
Galen approached him.
The lace curtains whipped in frustrated zigzags, papers flew up off the desk, caught in the whirlwind. Wrapped in the swirling mist, the struggling Londo looked like a demon himself.
"This is madness!"
Londo threw the statue in his general direction.
"It was Morden! He did it! He did it!"
"They speak to me, Londo. And this is what they say: ''Let not your vengeance die, though we are dead.''"
Galen tightened the whirlwind until it became an extra layer over Londo's body, a Londo-shaped maelstrom. Londo staggered, bending over. Within the vortex, he couldn't breathe.
Galen constricted the wind yet further. He was burning, churning, surging with energy. Still a minute remained until security would arrive.
Alwyn would thank him if he killed Londo. As would G'Leel and millions of Narns. This man had left such destruction in his wake. As much as Galen had. Galen wanted to crush him, crush him, crush him, and the tech returned each impulse, echoing and reechoing, filling him with hate.
Londo fell to his knees, clutching at his throat. Without control, there was only chaos. If he could not hold to his task, then he must end it. He closed the fist of his will around himself, stood over his victim, his mind fixed on the equation for mist, the equation for wind, the equations of motion. At last security arrived in the hall outside. Accessed the emergency override to gain entry.
Galen dissolved the spells, and with a rattling gasp Londo collapsed to the floor. As the door swung open, Galen conjured a platform, equation of motion, equation of motion. He shot through the door, sending a security guard reeling, raced down the corridor, around a turn, and out of sight.