See Part One for Disclaimers

On that journey, he discovered that not all his humanity had been driven from him.  Gideon's despairing call for help had turned him around, in search of one tiny figure lost in the vastness of space.  Ignoring the Circle's order to let the human find his own way he had rescued the young man, maybe even then sensing that much was in store for him.  Sedating him until he could deliver the inert ensign to some safe harbour, he gleaned what he could from the recording equipment within the flight suit, before wiping the circuits.  There must be no record of the Technomages flight.  From the data he gathered it was confirmed that the dark servants of the shadows were on the move.

Quickly, he had joined his brethren, sharing his find.  The Circle was now convinced that their flight was justified, Galen not so sure that they should abandon the galaxy to the warring First Ones.  Wishing he had Isabelle at his side, her counsel sorely missed; not quite ready to trust his own decisions.

At the end of that fateful journey, he had lost the only person who had any meaning for him now.  Elric, ailing for some years, had finally succumbed to the disease that ravaged him.  No more could be done to stop the life-consuming virus that had circulated in his system for as long as Galen had known him.  The hiding place held no pull for him now.  And his autonomous actions made him less than welcome within the order.

He waited only until they had cremated Elric in the tradition of the Technomages, reducing him to a small pile of glittering ash.  Bryth, ancient now but still within the Circle, teacher to Elric, performed the rites.  Scattering the glowing remnants in the sign designated 'eternity;' ancient words spoken to speed his journey.

Care no more to clothe and eat
To thee the reed is as the oak
The sceptre, physic, learning must
All follow this and come to dust.

Many years later Galen was to perform the same rite for his lost love.  Adding his own postscript to the ancient text:

All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

Anger, however fiery eventually cools, even in his heart.  But he had not forgotten, nor would he ever forgive, his anger sat coldly within him, waiting, anticipating.  He had not thought himself capable of taking a life with cold calculation; Matthew had not believed it of him.  How wrong he had been.  When Gideon had called him back from destroying the parasite which fed off the deepest secrets of a mans soul, those memories so painful that you buried them, the being that claimed to forgive; he had told him he was not a killer.  The captain was not to take seriously Galen's casual words that he had not one surviving enemy.  If only he knew.

As the years passed, Galen's confidence returned, with his added experiences life became more secure, his soul found a harbour.  But, through all his travels, he searched still for the technomages that had taken the dearest part of his life.  Eventually he tracked one of them down, only to be robbed of his vengeance by a seeming accident.

There was talk of a card game, the Apocalypse box had been part of the prize and the loser running out into the street, had fallen under the wheels of a moving vehicle.  No one knew who the new owner of the box could be.  A stranger to the area, close mouthed, unfriendly.  This much information he gleaned the day after the event.  No information on the box could be traced, but Galen was sure it would surface soon enough, when it needed to move on.

He had gained access to the body, checked for himself that it had been one of the exiled mages.  The body was that of Mrwynn, leader of the cadre.  No implants adorned his back, only old scars where circuitry should be.  The man looked battered, uncared for.  His corpse showing signs of physical misuse beyond those sustained at his death, probably drink or some other recreational drug abuse.  Galen's anger had grown then, to be so close and not be able to take his revenge personally!

It had spurred him on to further searches, for, if one of the mages were still in the known universe, then he could find the others and exact his reprisal on them.

"Ship.  Lights, one quarter illumination."  Even this seemed brilliant and blinding after the total darkness that had been consuming him.  Isabelle's likeness dimmed against the additional light.  Closing his hand, she vanished from view.

He should stop this maundering; he could feel depression settling on him in soft waves, insidious in its attack on his mind.

"Full illumination."  As though that could chase the shadows from his soul.

Taking up his staff, he began the slow, painstaking repairs required to bring it back to life.  Holes gaped along the shaft revealing intricate circuitry within.  The damage was severe, but not irreparable.

'The staff in the hand of a wizard...' Háma had not been wrong.  It could be a terrible thing, and yet wonderful too.  He had done terrible things with its help; acts that even now made him want to hide the memories away.  His anger and pain combined with his knowledge and staff had ended in the destruction of his enemies, for so they had become in his mind.

Nano-technology had been his speciality; he delighted in the intricacies involved in the manipulation, and construct of their infinitely diverse applications.  Eventually he had designed a virus that could, within seconds, destroy any link between a mage and his staff, or ship.  Not as crude as the incantation used by the three who had cost him his love, and his ship, but equally effective.  In turn, he had devised a counter equation that would protect him against further harm at their hands.  His ship, staff and his own person could now travel safely -- and in perfect secrecy.  The technology cloaked his ship from prying eyes, and scans.  He had hoarded this find, keeping it only in his ship's computer, hedged around by many and deadly viruses.  Any probe or scan that tried to access his data would be turned around with a destructive virus attached, wiping that system of all its knowledge save life support systems.  Should anyone be stupid enough to try and gain entry to his vessel the resultant shock to their nervous system would render them unconscious instantly.

The virus' delivery system was the first of the circuits to attract his attention.  He removed it swiftly, it's job finished now.  And yet he could not repress the memory of those executions, for that is what they were.  No amount of distance could alter the fact that he had taken out his enemies with a cold calculation that horrified him.

It had been on Varius Prime, whilst researching the hiding place of The Well of Forever, that news had reached him of a mage living secluded in the seamier part of the metropolis.  Vari, the capital, had like all great cities before it, possessed a down side to its apparent prosperity.  Those who came in search of their fortune discovered the harsh realities of life and graduated to the dark quarters of the district.  And it was here Galen had tracked down Karlin.  Cloaking himself against possible detection by Karlin's technomancy, he had entered the warren of streets where his prey had taken refuge.  Not an area for the faint-hearted, Galen had met with no attempt on his person, his tall imposing figure, the grim expression and sense of purpose that surrounded his passage, made all give way before him.  The denizens of this place knew trouble when they saw it, and gave him a wide berth.  And he was so focused on his mission that he took no care who might see and report his actions.  Not that anyone in this place would be a likely informer.

A light wood door was all that stood between him and his revenge, bursting into the hovel that Karlin had made his refuge, he found himself face to face with his enemy.  Only a technomage can strike though another's defences, 'sympathetic magic' he had explained to Gideon.  There was nothing sympathetic about his next actions.  Something within him seemed to explode; the anger he had held within him for so long, setting fire to his mind.

Fear flashed briefly on Karlin's face before he gathered his defences and launched his attack at Galen.  But the shielding that surrounded him protected and bounced back the fire sent his way.  Shock registered on the mages face, this same incantation had destroyed Galen's ship, should have wiped away any shield and destroyed the righteous avenger towering above him.

Galen lifted his staff, aimed with icy deliberation at the cowering man before him.  "And ...  now ...  you ...  will ...  pay."  The tightness in his chest almost stopping his breath so consumed by hatred as he was.  A brief flash and the nano-virus had been delivered.  It attacked Karlin with gleeful efficiency, tearing down his defensive shielding; his staff dropped from his hand as its power was wiped from it.  And then the virus was within the body, attacking the implants that linked him to his ship, travelling through those links to his brain and into his nerve centres severing all messages from brain to body.  He dropped to the floor, life now extinct.  The virus, having no electrical impulse to latch on to became dormant, their work done.

A boot to the ribs brought forth no response; his foe was defeated.  A pitiful bundle of flesh and bone - wires and gadgetry, lying in the dust.  He lowered the staff to the corpse, fire flashed briefly and Karlin was reduced to ashes, the virus destroyed so that it could not attack anyone else.

With calm, deliberate moves he ground the remains into the grime that covered the floor, erasing all sign of the man who's life he had just taken.

He had returned to his studies, re-filled the staff with the virus and continued to travel, ever searching for his last remaining enemy.  One year later he had unearthed the other mage.  Zeth too had hidden himself within a large community, but like Karlin before him, he had not withstood Galen's anger.  Now there were none for whom he needed to fuel the fires of retribution.  He had destroyed the few nano virus that remained, but had kept the secret of their making.

That same, secret technology had saved the lives of Gideon and most of his crew.  Making up, in part, for the terrible destruction he had wrought in his anger and pain.  That was done with now, he had to move on, he had believed the images wiped from his mind until now.

The staff sat inert before him as his fingers reconnected fine wires to tiny boards deep within its circuitry.  A tiny spark within its depths gave him hope - then it died again, leaving him frustrated at his inability to repair his control mechanism.  His concentration breached time and again by memories he would rather bury.

This interaction with the others must stop or he would lose himself.  He must leave the humans to their search.  He would keep and eye on them, when time and his studies would allow.  But for his own sake, he could not get involved again.  When he had tried to help in the shadow war, involving Sheridan and others in the fight, he had ended up precipitating the current crises.  No matter how many times he had told himself that his interference had saved the planet from instant annihilation, and that at least they had five years more, he could not remove the guilt from his soul.  His constant returns to the Excalibur, in part a way to cleanse himself, as well as feed his need for the company of caring beings.

Dureena's face flashed in his mind; he wiped it away quickly.  No, he would not think of them, any of them.

Bending his will to the task of repairing his staff, and his heart, he instructed the ship, "Music."

the end

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