I have faith in you, cousin.
Vejar tried to force himself to care. He did not know her. She meant nothing to him. She was just one of billions who had suffered at the hands of the Vorlons. What made her special? What made her so deserving as to merit his being sent on this mission?
And if the Vorlon catches me?
He raised his hand, now glowing with red light, tiny bolts of electricity shooting from it.
Why are you always so negative, cousin? Think of the good that will come from this when you succeed.
He took a step forward.
Ulkesh glided into view.
I am, Galen. I am thinking that the Vorlon might find me....
Ulkesh's eye blazed bright red.
.... and that he might just kill me.
I fulfill their will. I bring blessed chaos to the galaxy. I rain death upon the weak and the complacent. I bring fear and pain to those who do not understand. The weak will be defeated and die in misery. The strong will learn and grow and become stronger.
They will evolve.
I will evolve. The Dark Masters have sent me a challenge in this Marrago. The others here are nothing, chattels and fools. They will break before the onslaught, but he....
He is my challenge. Through him I shall become stronger. We shall make each other stronger. We shall war upon each other. There is no growth in fighting the weak. Those whom I do not destroy I shall make stronger, but they shall not make me stronger. The weak are no challenge.
He lay back down, his head spinning. The alcohol. That was it. Or perhaps some aftereffect of.... earlier. Maybe he was picking up Talia's nightmares. He couldn't help but grin. If she was having any more pleasant dreams, that might be fun.
Talia!
He leapt up in an instant and ran for her room. Not him, he knew that. Not him.
Her!
She was lying still on the bed, her head thrown back. Standing over her was a tall man he did not recognise, but then he could not see the intruder's face. His head was bent low over Talia's, and he seemed to be.... breathing in her air. Only it wasn't air, it was light.
Dexter ran forward, the instincts of a thousand youthful street fights surging in his body. The figure began to turn, but he was not quick enough to dodge Dexter's punch. He had been in countless fist fights in his life, and he knew he would be in a good many more, but he had never thrown a punch like that before, and he doubted he ever would again.
The man fell, collapsing in a heap. Dexter did not even look at him, but turned instantly to Talia. She was motionless, her eyes open but staring fixedly ahead. He put his hand over her mouth and was relieved to feel her breath on his palm.
Then an explosion of pain burst in his mind and he reeled, stumbling back against the wall. Looking up through eyes blurred with agony, he saw the intruder rising. For the first time he could clearly see its face.
It was oddly misshapen, as if made of wax that had started to melt in the noonday sun. Light poured from its eyes and mouth.
Greetings, brother, it said.
The Vorlon's voice was a chill, cold thing. Vejar knew that Vorlon speech was entirely telepathic in nature. They had no tongue, no vocal cords, no lungs, nothing but energy, and their voices came entirely from their thoughts. They could appear to speak in whatever tone or language they wished.
Ulkesh chose to speak with the voice of the dead, the voice of a cold wind through an autumn graveyard, the voice of ghosts buried and forgotten.
Vejar said nothing. D amn you, Galen, he thought. W hat have you got me into? T houghts of passion and fury began to take shape in his mind as he started to prepare himself for conjuring, truly conjuring, for the first time in years.
<Some thought you should die. Others said your life was as dust on the wind, faded from mortal eyes. But we are not mortal, and our eyes see what others do not.>
Vejar took a careful step backwards, flicking his gaze from Ulkesh to Lyta. Neither was moving, and he could not tell which of the two looked less alive.
<Now you have seen beyond the mist. Now you have transgressed our laws. Now, you will die.>
Well, Galen. Congratulations. You could not have chosen someone else for this suicide mission?
Finding his voice, and his courage, he looked up squarely into the Vorlon's eye stalk. "I am to be killed, just for having come here?" he asked.
<Yes.>
"Well, I see. There is a human saying you might not be familiar with. It has something to do with the relative nature of punishments for varying crimes." Vejar's mind was racing. He could feel his skin crawl with the rush of power.
"You might as well be hung for a sheep...."
His eyes blazed furiously. Fire crackled from his fingertips.
"As a lamb!"
He hurled the fireball forward, instantly forming another conjuration. He watched as the Vorlon's encounter suit became an inferno, flames licking over every inch of it. Behind him a circle of ruins and flames and darkness formed. Something emerged from it, something black and crackling with electricity. It moved with an arachnid grace, its many eyes blazing with fiery light.