Chapter 27: The Vorlon Solution

Lyta knelt before the access panel, her hands hovering inches above the pulsing mass of Shadow technology that had burrowed itself into the *Titans'* Vorlon interface like a parasite. The device was roughly the size of a data pad, its surface covered in organic-looking conduits that writhed with their own malevolent life.

"It's not trying to destroy the ship," she said, her voice distant as she extended her telepathic senses toward the alien construct. "It's... learning. Adapting. Trying to understand how the Vorlon technology works."

"Learning for what purpose?" Ivanova asked, crouching beside her.

Lyta's eyes remained closed, her consciousness probing the edges of the Shadow device's alien intelligence. "To track you. To follow wherever you go, report back to its masters. It was never meant to sabotage the ship. It was meant to turn the Titans into a beacon."

Garibaldi cursed under his breath. "So they'd know exactly where we were going, when we got there, what we were planning."

"Worse than that," Lyta said, her voice growing strained as the device's defenses pushed back against her mental intrusion. "It's been transmitting. They already know about the mission, about the team being assembled. They're—"

She gasped and jerked back as the Shadow technology lashed out with a surge of psychic energy that felt like ice picks driven into her brain. Blood trickled from her nose, and her hands shook as she fought to maintain her mental shields.

"Lyta!" Garibaldi reached for her, but she waved him off.

"I'm all right," she said, though her voice was tight with pain. "But this thing is stronger than I thought. It's not just Shadow technology. It’s been enhanced, modified. I can't break through its defenses alone."

"What do you need?" Ivanova asked.

Lyta looked up at her, and for a moment her eyes seemed to glow with an inner light that had nothing to do with human biology. "I need to wake up the Vorlon ship."

The three of them made their way to the cargo bay where the rebuilt Vorlon vessel rested in its docking cradle. The ship was exactly as Lyta remembered it from the reports—sleek, organic, beautiful in the way that only Vorlon technology could be. But it was also dormant, its systems powered down, waiting for someone with the right telepathic signature to bring it back to life.

"Are you sure about this?" Garibaldi asked as Lyta approached the ship's hull. "Last time someone tried to interface with Vorlon technology without permission, it didn't end well."

"I'm not trying to control it," Lyta replied, placing her hands on the ship's warm surface. "I'm asking for help."

She closed her eyes and let her consciousness expand, reaching out to touch the vast intelligence that slumbered within the Vorlon vessel. For a moment, there was nothing—just the cold emptiness of space and the distant whisper of hyperspace winds.

Then something answered.

Who disturbs our rest?

The voice spoke directly into her mind, carrying with it the weight of eons and the accumulated wisdom of a race that had walked among the stars when humanity was still learning to make fire.

I am Lyta Alexander, she replied. I seek aid against the Shadow's touch.

The Shadows are gone beyond the Rim. Their time is ended.

But their servants remain. Their technology corrupts and spreads. Will you help us cleanse it?

There was a long pause, and Lyta could feel the Vorlon intelligence considering her request, weighing the implications of intervention against the ancient laws that governed their kind.

Show us, it said finally.

Lyta opened her eyes and found that the Vorlon ship was glowing with soft, pearl-white radiance. The light seemed to flow through the ship's hull like liquid starlight, and she could feel its attention turning toward the Shadow device that still clung to the Titans' systems.

"Everyone stand back," she said, her voice carrying an authority that wasn't entirely her own.

The cargo bay filled with brilliant white light as the Vorlon ship's systems came fully online. The radiance was so intense that Ivanova and Garibaldi had to shield their eyes, but Lyta stood at the center of it, her form silhouetted against the blazing illumination like a figure carved from shadow.

The light reached out through the ship's corridors, following the pathways of the Vorlon interface until it found the Shadow device. For a moment, the two technologies clashed—organic light against writhing darkness, order against chaos, creation against destruction.

Then the Shadow device evaporated. One moment it was there, a knot of malevolent intelligence burrowing into the ship's systems, and the next it was gone, leaving behind only the clean, crystalline presence of Vorlon technology.

The light faded, and the cargo bay returned to normal. Lyta swayed on her feet, exhausted by the effort of channeling such vast energies, but her eyes were bright with satisfaction.

"It's done," she said. "The Shadow influence is gone."

"And the tracking signal?" Ivanova asked.

"Severed. They can't follow you now." Lyta paused, her expression growing troubled. "But they know you're coming. The device transmitted for hours before we destroyed it. The Drakh know about the mission, about the team, about everything."

Garibaldi ran a hand through his hair. "So much for the element of surprise."

"Perhaps," Ivanova said, her voice thoughtful. "Or perhaps we can use their knowledge against them. If they're expecting us, they might not be prepared for what we're actually planning to do."

"Which is what, exactly?" Garibaldi asked.

Ivanova smiled, and for a moment she looked like the young officer who had once helped save the galaxy from the Shadows. "We're going to give them exactly what they expect—right up until the moment we don't."

As they made their way back to the conference room to finalize their plans, none of them noticed the way Lyta's eyes lingered on the Vorlon ship, or the faint smile that crossed her features as she heard the whisper of an ancient voice in her mind.

The young races learn quickly. Perhaps there is hope for them yet.

The mission to the Drakh stronghold would be dangerous, possibly suicidal. But for the first time since the Excalibur's destruction, they had a real chance of success.

Now all they had to do was survive long enough to use it.