Babylon 5 15 - Legions Of Fire 03 - Out Of The Darkness (David, Peter)

by Out Of The Darkness (David, Peter)

  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, "Atoiv/"Just as I said that, Durla nodded, and the others rase 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 ad-dressing 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 be-cause 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 pri-mordial 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 Centauri 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 myselt to speak clearly, lev- elly, 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 em-peror, 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 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 recap-turing 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 em* peror 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. .." "No!" The 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 sa id, "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 de parted 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. "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. I. "Yes, that is so. I must admit to you, Londo ... I am some- * what 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." "Meaning that I have let you down, and so you will kill me for it?" He seemed to consider this. "I do not see the threat. Death holds fewer and fewer terrors for me with each passing day." "You say that now, when your life is not threatened," Shiv'kala commented. "It is always simple to laugh in the face of death when it is not facing you. In time, you may change your mind. This much, however, is certain, Londo. You will never lay hands upon Durla again. You will not threaten him, nor assault him. Nor will you attempt to dispatch any agents or cat's-paws to do likewise, because we will find out. And the pain that was in­flicted upon you via the keeper today.. . will seem as nothing. If you do not trust my word in any other matter, I suggest you trust it in this: You will not survive." "No one ever survives," Londo observed. "One just gets pro­gressively worse opportunities to die." There was a respectful knock at the door. Londo glanced at Shiv'kala, but the Drakh had already blended in with the shadows of the room. "Come," he called. The door opened, and two members of the Prime Candidates entered. They carried between them a silver tray, covered with a cloth, which they placed on the table next to Londo. He looked at it with bleary curiosity. "Yes? What is it?" "Compliments of Ministers Lione and Durla," one of the boys said. Then they turned and departed while Londo leaned forward and looked with curiosity at the covered tray. A bomb, possibly. Or some sort of trap. At that moment, how­ever, Londo didn't particularly care. He pulled off the cloth and gasped. An eye was sitting on it, looking up at him. Except it was no normal eye. It appeared to be solid, with a red tint to it... "G'Kar," Londo whispered. There was a note on the tray next to it. With hands trembling, he picked it up and read it. "The noble Citizen G'Kar is being forced to send his re­grets. He is feeling somewhat put out at the moment, and will not be able to join you for dinner in the foreseeable future. In- stead he will be undergoing an intensive, rigorous 'training program' to make certain he remains in good shape. We trust our meaning has been made clear, and will not be forgotten." Londo started to stand, as if to go charging to G'Kar's aid. "Where do you think you are going?" Shiv'kala asked calmly. That was not unusual. He was calm most of the time. Icy, like a frozen planet, and with about as much chance of displaying pity or mercy. "Certainly you are not considering helping your pet Narn, are you?" Londo pointed in fury at the eye. "This was your idea, I take it?" "No, actually. We probably would have thought of it... but the truth is that Durla conceived of it all on his own. It will not go well for the Narn, I fear. But he will not die. Durla would not want that to happen, for if he dies, then he cannot be a source of ongoing torment for you." "Bastards!" Londo spat out, and he started for the door. Then the pain came again. Londo got only a few steps before it overwhelmed him, like an ocean wave batters a sand castle to bits. Londo staggered back and sank into the cushions. "Some quiet time for you now, Londo, I think," Shiv'kala told him, as if addressing an angry child. "A day or so to contemplate your actions, and why it would be most unwise to repeat those actions." "Must. . . stop him. .." "You cannot," Shiv'kala said. "You cannot stop any of this. It has gone too far. Within days now, the fleet will be launched. Durla will see to it. He has prepared for it extremely well. And you cannot-will not-do anything to stop it, Londo. Otherwise I will make certain that Durla does indeed go too far in his ... what was the phrase ... 'training program' for G'Kar. And that will be the least of
the recriminations that await you... all in re­taliation for anything you might try to do, none of which could hope to succeed. "The only thing you will succeed in doing is injuring your­self. . .and others. G'Kar, Senna, even that absurd VirCotto, for whom you continue to have foolish affection. All of them will know the punishments attendant in your failed attempts to stop the unstoppable. "Have we made ourselves clear, Londo?"