by Peter David
Sheridan and the others looked in dismay at the wreckage. Whatever clues they might have found seemed hopelessly lost. Everything was smashed to pieces.
Sheridan leaned against the wall, sorting through everything he had seen. "Where could it have come from?"
"If it's as small as you say it was, it could have snuck in through any part of the house," Garibaldi said. He looked around. "David didn't go without a struggle, I'll tell ya. He tried to fight that thing off."
Delenn suppressed a shudder as she picked up the pieces of the Centauri urn, which had apparently been shattered along with other objects in the room.
"We've got to find him," Sheridan said furiously. "I want word sent out to all the members of the Alliance ..."
"That might not be wise," Garibaldi told him.
Sheridan looked at him incredulously. "How could it not be wise?" "Because it's everything you've ever feared," Garibaldi said.
"if you advertise to everyone that your son's disappeared, two things are going to happen. First, knowing that he's off Minbar, every bounty hunter, every crackpot, every nutcase is going to turn out in force looking for him. They'll want to snatch him and use him to exert pressure on you. And second, any nut and his brother can claim that they have him and start making demands. Sure, they won't be able to prove that they have him, but you
won't be able to prove they don't. You go wide with this, I guarantee you'll solve nothing, and create a thousand headaches you can't even begin to imagine."
"What would you suggest, then?" Sheridan asked icily. "Where would we start looking?"
"Centauri Prime," Delenn answered.
They looked at her. "What?" Sheridan said.
She was holding up pieces of the urn, pieces from the lower half of it. "Londo said that this held water from a sacred river? It's dry. There's no sign of its ever having been wet, not the slightest aroma of mildew or any smell that would accompany stagnant water. There's no moisture on the cabinet that it was on when it broke, none on the floor."
"It could have evaporated," Garibaldi offered uncertainly.
"It could have. But I don't think so. I think that thing John saw was hidden inside here, in some sort of hibernation. Waiting, all these years, for us to give it to David."
It made sense.
It made horrific sense.
"He said we would always be friends. Do you remember, Delenn?" Sheridan said. His jaw constricted with mounting fury. "Remember what he said the day he gave it to us? That that day in our company meant so much to him. Well, now we know exactly what it meant, the bastard."
"What do we do?" Delenn asked.
"We go to Centauri Prime," Sheridan said without hesitation.
But Garibaldi shook his head. "You do no such thing. You don't know for sure that it was Londo."
"Are you defending him now, Michael?"
"No, I'm trying to make sure you don't rush into something half-cocked," Garibaldi said. "I'm as furious about it as you, but I've got more practice than you do keeping myself wrapped up. If David was taken from here, it was for one of two reasons: either they're just going to kill him as a means of revenge, or they've got plans for him. If it's the former, you can't help him. If it's the latter, those plans will certainly involve you, and you have to sit tight until you find out what their next move will be. His kidnappers will contact you. At that point, you'll know for sure that it's Londo, or whoever, and that's when you can plan your strategy."
"My strategy is already planned," Sheridan said tightly. "It starts with killing Londo Mollari. After that, I'll improvise."
EXCERPT FROM
THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date)
November 29,2277.
I cannot remember the last time I ran. Not just ran. Sprinted. My personal guards actually had to run to keep up with me, and everyone we dashed past gaped at us. At me. And why should they not? My office is all about ceremony and posturing and maintaining dignity. The sight of the emperor charging down a corridor as if the hordes of hell itself were on his heels, well... I would have gaped as well.
I flung open the doors to Durla's private suite, the place that served him as both home and office. Durla was in a huddled conference with several of his ministers. Truthfully, I do not remember which ones. This has nothing to do with my recurring difficulties with memory. In this instance, I was simply so furious over the circumstances that had brought me here that I saw no one save for Durla.
He opened his mouth to make some oily inquiry as to why I had decided to grace him with my presence. I did not give him the opportunity to ask. "Get out," I snarled, and it was more than evident that I was referring to everyone but Durla.
And yet, incredibly, the ministers did not immediately leave. Instead they glanced at Durla, looking for confirmation. His. Over mine. The wishes of a prime minister over those of an emperor. Scandalous. Insanity. That such a thing could ever happen, and that I could be the emperor who had allowed matters to sink so low... it was a ghastly situation.
Trembling with rage, I said, "Out!" Just as I said that, Durla nodded, and the others rose and departed the room. I turned to my guards and said, "You, too."
"Highness, perhaps it may not be wise to-" one of them began.
"I am the emperor and you will do as you are ordered!" Whatever vestiges of pride and authority I might have had were obviously sufficient to get the job done, because the guards turned and walked out, leaving Durla and me alone.
"Is there a problem, Highness?" Durla inquired, unperturbed.
"Tell me how you did not do it," I said through clenched teeth.
"What 'it' would that be, Highness?"
He knew damned well, but if he wished to play his games for the few seconds longer I was going to allow him to live, so be it. "I have heard," I said, "that the son of John Sheridan is here. That you have kidnapped him. Yes? No?"
"No, your Highness."
"You deny that he is here?"
"No, I deny that he was kidnapped. Apparently he arrived here of his own freewill."
"And why did he do this, eh?"
"Because we are Centauri Prime," he told me, "and it is our destiny to have all our enemies delivered unto us."
I could not quite believe what I was hearing. "What?"
"Highness," and he began to circle the room, and speak as if he were addressing a child. "His presence here is simply part of my grand vision."
"Not again." I had heard about his "vision" for Centauri Prime, and plans for the great Republic, all too many times.
"All this," and he gestured to the window that overlooked his balcony, "is because I envisioned it, Highness. When the great wave of Centauri vessels crashed upon the shores of the Alliance worlds, it will be the ultimate realization of my vision. I have willed it into existence. Because I have believed in it... it has come to pass.
"This is simply another example of the power of my belief. 1 believed that David Sheridan would come here... and he has. I must admit," and he leaned back against his desk, looking insufferably smug, "when Minister Lione informed me of young Sheridan's arrival, 1 was not the least bit surprised. Even Lione remarked upon how calm I was. Naturally. I could see it as clearly as I see you."
"And now that he is here, you will send him back, yes?"
"I will send him back, no," he told me. "You cannot be serious, Highness, is the ideal opportunity to bend our greatest enemy to our will."
"You are insane! You would bring the might of the entire Alliance down upon us!"
"No. With his son's life at stake, Sheridan will bow to our will. It is inevitable, he cannot help himself. He is Human and, because of that, weak. In a way," and he laughed, "I almost feel sorry for him."
"Sorry for him? The Alliance fleet will bomb Centauri Prime back into the primordial ooze from which we crawled, and you feel sorry for him?"
"Yes, because he lacks the strength of dedication and commitment that even the lowliest of Cent
auri possess."
A door opened at the far end of the room before I could reply... and I gaped. I admit it. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
Mariel was there, emerging on unsteady legs. She was leaning against the door frame for support. There were faint discolorations on her face. Clearly she had been struck some short time ago. I knew that Mariel had not been seen as of late, but this... this... I knew he had done it before. But now he had done it again, and what had seemed like an isolated incident became a pattern. She had not heard me. I wondered if he had done internal damage to her. But she saw me and gasped, her hands automatically flying to cover her battered face. She ducked back into the other room, closing the door behind her.
Durla looked at me expectantly. He seemed to be wondering what other trivial matter I might bore him with at that moment. Forcing myself to speak clearly, levelly, I said, "You say... you have foreseen all this?"
"Much of it, yes."
"And have you foreseen... this?" And I drew back my fist and smashed him in the face as hard as I could.
It was likely a foolish move on my part, for Durla was an old soldier and still in battle-ready condition. I, on the other hand, had a flair for swords, but was older and much diminished. In a brief struggle, I might have been able to hold my own. in a prolonged fight, he could likely have done me great damage. Still, I was emperor, and there might still have been sufficient respect for the office to inhibit him from lashing out that aggressively.
None of that mattered. I struck him with no forethought, no care as to what might happen or how good an idea it was. All I knew, at that moment, was that I desperately needed to have my fist in direct contact with his face.
It was nice to see that I had not lost my punch, or at least was capable of recapturing it when the need arose. Durla went straight down, having been caught utterly unprepared. At that moment, I truly believe that I could have killed him with my bare hands.
And then the pain struck me.
- chapter 14 -
Durla had been caught completely flat-footed. He had to admit that he had come to underestimate just what the emperor was capable of, and being knocked flat by Londo Mollari was a decisive reminder.
His head struck the floor when he went down, and just for a moment the world spun around him. He saw Londo standing over him, raging, and his hands seemed even larger as they descended, clearly ready to throttle him. Just for a moment, the normally confident Durla wondered whether he could actually withstand a concerted attack from the infuriated emperor.
And then, just like that, the threat passed. Because the emperor pitched back, clutching at his head. If someone had driven a spike through his skull, the reaction could not have been more pronounced. From the floor, Durla watched, utterly stupefied, as Londo staggered back. His eyes were tightly closed, and he seemed for all the world as if he wanted to do anything rather than scream. But then the scream came, and it was very loud and laced with agony.
It was more than enough to alert the guards outside that something was up. By the time they pushed through the door, Durla was on his feet, looking down at the writhing form of the emperor.
For a moment he wasn't entirely sure what to say. It wouldn't do for word to get out that the emperor had been so angry with Durla that he had assaulted him. It was hard to determine just how much popularity the emperor still possessed. Durla did not for a moment doubt that the people had come to love their prime minister, but the affection for the office of emperor was historical, tried and true. They certainly seemed to adore their figureheads, and the attendant pomp and circumstance.
"The emperor is having some sort of an attack," Durla said quickly. "Have him brought to his quarters at once. Call a physician. .."
he word exploded from Londo as if torn from the depths of his dismay. And now Dunseny was at his side, propping him up. Londo's eyes were open wide as if there was agony still erupting behind them. "Highness, it's necessary," Dunseny said immediately. "I know your antipathy for physicians; you've not had more than the most cursory of examinations for over a decade. But in this instance ..."
"In this instance," Londo managed to say, his voice still shaking, "I am still the emperor . .. and you are still . .. not." Whatever fit had taken hold of Londo seemed to be subsiding. "Help me up," he said in a vaguely commanding voice, and instantly several guards were at Londo's side, helping him to his feet.
One of them was Caso. Durla recognized him instantly. They exchanged a long look, then Caso helped the emperor to lean on his shoulders.
Durla had never been particularly impressed by Caso. He had struck Durla as faint of heart during the questioning of the traitor, Rem Lanas, and positively disconcerted upon the imprisonment of Milifa. When it had come time for Milifa to quietly die in prison, Caso had managed to absent himself to avoid taking part in that particular Prime Candidates function. His eagerness to clear the Narn, G'Kar, that day of the shooting, had not sat especially well with Durla, either.
Thinking of G'Kar and the prisons sent Durla's mind spinning in a particular direction, and he smiled faintly to himself. Without missing a beat, he turned to Londo, and said, "Highness ... I hope you recover from your distress quite soon. And I shall remember our discussion for quite some time to come."
Londo was barely managing to lend any support to himself, but he still was able to summon enough strength to say, "I would strongly advise that you do so, Prime Minister . .. for all our sakes. Your treatment of young Sheridan, and of... others ... shall not go unnoticed."
"No treatment shall," Durla replied, bowing slightly at the waist. His jaw was throbbing from where Londo had struck it, but he was not about to give Mollari the satisfaction of seeing him acknowledge it. "No treatment shall."
He waited until the room was empty, and then he turned and went into the adjoining chamber. Mariel was sitting there, looking very concerned, and when Durla entered she immediately stood. "What happened?" she asked breathlessly.
"The emperor," Durla said evenly, "tried to attack me. In this instance, I did not have to hurt him. He was most fortunate. And it was your appearance, I think, that set him off. That was not appreciated, Mariel."
"I did not know he was there, my lord Durla." She bowed slightly. "My .. . hearing is not what it once was. I sustained an injury ... in my clumsiness . . . that has reduced my hearing acuity. It is being treated, however, and a full recovery is expected."
The words were very carefully chosen and he knew it. He did not smile, merely nodded slightly. "For the duration, you will have to listen more closely," he told her.
"Yes, my lord husband." When she saw that he was heading out, she said, "Where are you going, my lord ... if I may ask." she added quickly.
"I am going to visit an old friend with whom I have had some disagreements," Durla told her. He smiled. "I'm going to see if there's not some way we can't see eye to eye."
"That's very considerate, my lord."
"Yes. It is," he agreed. And just as the door closed behind him, Mariel let fly a spit of contempt. It landed on the door and ran noiselessly to the floor.
"Leave me," Londo managed to say.
Dunseny looked at him uncertainly. They had brought him back to his inner sanctum and helped settle him into a leaning couch. The manservant had been fussing over him for some time now trying to make him comfortable and all the time wheedling him about having a physician brought in. Londo would not hear of it.
"Are you certain, Highness?" Dunseny asked solicitously. "Might it not be wiser to-"
"It might be wiser to do as I say," Londo told them. "Now go."
Seeing no other real options, Dunseny and the guards departed as they were instructed to do. Caso, the last one out, cast a glance over his shoulder in obvious worry. Then the door closed behind him.
"Well?" Londo asked, once everyone was gone. "What are you waiting for?"
The shadows moved, as he knew they would. In a moment, an all-too-familiar form was standing several feet away from him.
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"How dare you," Shiv'kala said.
"How dare I?" Londo seemed amused. "How dare I know you would be there? I am so sorry. Did I ruin your surprise? Your flair for the dramatic?"
"You know what Durla is to us. You know what we have invested in him. He is our future, Londo." After his initial anger, Shiv'kala seemed relatively calm. "Not just ours... but yours as well."
"Is that so?" Londo was about to say something more, but suddenly he was seized by a racking cough. Shiv'kala waited patiently for the hacking to subside.
"Yes, that is so. I must admit to you, Londo ... I am somewhat disappointed in you."
"I shall try to hide my extreme dismay over letting you down."
"I have spent many years with you now, Londo. I have explained to you the Drakh philosophies, the Drakh teaching. Tried to make you understand why we do what we do. Yet at every turn, you seem unwilling to embrace all we can do for you, bring to you ..."
"You mean in the way Durla has."
"We have approached Durla differently than we did you. But yes, he shares our vision."
"He has the vision you implanted within him."
"No," Shiv'kala said, sounding almost sad. "Londo, how little you understand your own people. We have simply worked with that which already existed. We have unleashed the greatness that was within him, just as we have tried to do with you. Not just you, but your people as well. The Centauri Republic will be great, Londo- with you or without you."
"I had been hoping it would be both." Londo seemed rather amused by the comment.
Shiv'kala circled him. "Believe it or not, Londo, throughout the years, I have been your greatest ally. When others felt you simply were not worth the effort, I stood up for you. I spoke on your behalf. I argued that you could be brought around. That the time and effort being spent on you was not in vain. Then an incident such as this one occurs, and it leads me to wonder if the other Drakh were not correct."
