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

by Out Of The Darkness (David, Peter)

  "Painfully so, yes." He managed to nod his head. "As I told you, Londo.. . believe it or not, we have been merciful until now. Do not, at any time, mistake mercy for weakness We are not weak. We are Drakh. We are of the Shadows. Is that also clear, Londo?" This time he didn't even bother to speak. He just nodded. "I am pleased we had this opportunity to chat, Londo." And then, rather unexpectedly, Londo managed to get oin "The boy... the Sheridan boy..." "What about him?" If the Drakh had had an eyebrow, he would have cocked it in curiosity. "Bringing him here ... is insanity. Crossing his father, crossing Delenn ... the Earth fleet, the Minbari fleet will be brought down upon us. Even you cannot possibly think that w» can withstand such an assault. The Minbari fleet alone coukl level this world." "Very likely. But such an action would only result in the boy's death, and Sheridan and Delenn will not risk that. They will come here, alone and unattended. We know this for a cer­tainty. And when they come here, you, Londo, will oversee their execution." "On what grounds?" "On the grounds that they are responsible for sending tin Shadows away. They will pay for that with their lives." "And the boy?" "We have plans for the boy. With his parents gone, he wi! 'escape,' and live to serve our interests." "Your interests?" Then he laughed bitterly. "Oh. Of course. The keeper." "In the vase that you left, yes. Had you forgotten about that?" "I tried to. Unfortunately, I seem to remember all the things I would rather forget, and forget that which I really should re­member. When I brought the keeper in the urn ... I hoped ... ii was for the purpose of spying. That was all. Influencing his father and mother on Minbar, perhaps. I never thought that this..." The Drakh leaned in close to him. "Never forget," he said, "who is in charge. It will go badly for you if you do." And with that, he left Londo sitting alone in his room-in a pain-filled silence enforced by the keeper-trying to determine just how things could possibly go more badly than they already were. EXCERPT FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) December 3,2277. I had to call her. I sat here, stewing for days, thinking about what I had seen... thinking about what that bastard Durla had done to Mariel, even knowing my protection extended to her after her return to the Palace. And I kept thinking to myself, At least your hands are clean. For all your crimes, for all that can be laid at your feet... at least you have never treated a woman in such a manner. And then I thought about that some more, really thought. I thought of Adira ... my beautiful Adira. The dancer who elevated my past, haunted my present, and would never be a part of my future. When she died, I took certain... steps... which drove me down the dark road I currently tread. I thought of Mariel, an appendage to that man, that monstrosity of a man. If I had never divorced her, she would not be in this position. I know, I know... to ensure tier own future, she tried to kill me. But in a way... should I be entirely surprised? She observed the men in the society in which she was raised. My gender taught her the lessons to which she subscribed. If she was raised to be devious, to hold little regard for life... who am I now to condemn her? One who has led a stainless life myself? If I were not subject to coughing fits, I would laugh heartily at that. I thought of Daggair, another wife of mine... eh. Well... I did not think of her too much. There is only so much guilt even I will feel. And then there is Timov. Timov, whom I shunted away, for her own good. Making her believe that I do not, did not ever, truly love her. The thing is, she was a woman of boundless integrity and sharp wit. Had we ever truly been a team- Great Maker, the things we could have accomplished. I felt the need to say this to her. To make her realize that I did truly value her. And-I have to admit it-to cleanse my own guilt, for in my own way I had abused her just as thoroughly as Durla had done Mariel. Abused her trust, abused her af­fection. I owed it to her, somehow, to make reparations for this. Foolish. Foolish old man. When my-small associate-freed me after a time of enforced "meditation," I resolved that I had delayed long enough. Too long, in fact. Years too long. I knew that she no longer resided on Centauri Prime but instead had relocated to one of the outlying worlds. It was not difficult for me to establish a real-time link with her. A woman whom I recognized as a longtime retainer to Timov answered my com­munique" and looked most surprised indeed to see that she was being contacted by the emperor himself. She told me that her mistress would be right there. Long minutes passed. I surmised that Timov was making me wait out of spite. I was wrong. When a wan and drawn woman appeared on the screen, for a moment I did not recognize her. There was none of the fiery robustness I had come to associate with the razor-sharp spitfire called Timov, but then I realized that yes, indeed, it was she. She sat there, staring at me. Not saying a word. The only part of her that seemed to be truly alive was her eyes, and those blazed with the fire of inner vision. "Timov," I said, surprised at the huskiness of my voice. I started to say, "You are looking well," but nothing could have been further from the truth, and we both knew it. So instead I cleared my throat and started to say her name again. She cut me off curtly. "It's true. Are you satisfied? Obviously you're calling to see for yourself if whatever you've heard is correct. So... you're seeing. Good enough?" "I have heard nothing," I said quite honestly. It may have been the most honest thing I'd said to her in years... if not ever. "You haven't heard that I'm dying," she said with such contempt in her tone that it was clear she didn't believe it for a moment. I have never taken quite as long to say a single, one-syllable word as I did at that moment. "No," I finally managed to get out. "Mm-hmm." Still she did not believe. I could not blame her. "All right, then. Why, after all this time, have you called?" "I..." Everything I wanted to say to her flooded through my mind. But nothing came out, She scowled in that way she had. "Londo ... you chased me off Centauri Prime. You have treated me with disrespect that you would not show to your greatest enemy. You have exhibited contempt for me, you have-" "I know, I know. I have done all these things. I know." "I am the empress and have been dealt with as if I were the lowliest of slaves. And now, after all this time, what could you possibly have to say?" "Why are you dying?" I managed to say. "To annoy you. Anything else?" She seemed anxious to end the transmission,

  to do anything except talk to me, be anywhere except on a line with me. A hundred responses went through my mind, and only one emerged. "I want you to know... I am sorry," I said. She stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. The seconds passed like an infinity. Then her eyes softened ever so slightly. "You should be. But not for what you imagine you're calling to apologize for." "I'm afraid I-" "You don't understand. But then you rarely took the time to understand, or even to consider your actions. You were impulsive the night you banished me from Cen­tauri Prime." The effort of speaking took a great deal from her. She stopped to breathe, and I said nothing. "I have been less impulsive and have had more time to speculate, given my cur­rent condition. Londo, I know about your dilemma." "How could you possibly know?" "Do you not remember Lady Morella? You asked her to tell you about your future." "That was a private transaction." "Mmm, everything important to a Centauri is a private transaction, hence everything important to a Centauri is open to public scrutiny. I'm your wife, Londo. Even in exile, I know almost everything you do. "It comes with the territory." She did not say these words flippantly. In fact, her eyes burned brighter. Ah, yes, Timov knew just as all empresses knew of their husband's good fortune and ill omens. I saw what she was saying now. She was implying that Lady Morella, previously a telepath somewhat stronger in psionic capability than the av­erage empress, was granted special vision as the wife of Emperor Turhan. Timov knew. As Lady Morella knew. I had to warn her. "It is very dangerous for you to speculate on these things. That is why you are kept in exile." "I know that. You are surrounded in darkness, and it is a darkness I know better than to penetrate." "I should go, Timov. I just wanted to call to say... many things. None of them expressible now." "Good-bye, Londo," she said briskly. I reached to cut off the transmission, and Timov abruptly said, "Londo..." My hand paused over the cutoff switch." Yes?" "If you need me, call." "I won't be needing you." "I know," she said tartly. "That's why I made th
e offer." The screen blinked off. And I knew at that moment that I would never see her again. But at least I had tried. Tried... and failed. If I cannot achieve greatness, at least I can aspire to consistency.

  chapter 15 Vir was hurriedly packing in his quarters on Babylon 5 when an urgent beeping at his door interrupted him. "Go away!" he called. "We need to talk," came a surprisingly familiar voice. And yet it wasn't entirely too much of a surprise. In fact, the main sur­prise for Vir was that it hadn't occurred sooner. "Come," he called, his command disengaging the door lock. Michael Garibaldi entered, looking entirely too calm. He glanced around. "Going somewhere?" "Yes. You could say th-" And then, before Vir could say anything further, Garibaldi was across the room. He grabbed Vir by the shirtfront and slammed him up against a wall, knocking over furniture. "I don't think so," Garibaldi said, and he spoke with barely contained fury. "I think you're going to tell me exactly how you think your people are going to get away with-" He stopped. There was a blade pressed up against his throat, the hilt gripped solidly in Vir's hand. And Vir was staring into Garibaldi's eyes with absolutely no trace of fear. Any resem­blance to the Vir Cotto who first set foot on Babylon 5 was long gone. "What I think," Vir said in a low voice, "is that you're going to get your damned hands off me. And then we will talk like the reasonable men I know that one of us is." Very slowly, Garibaldi released his hold on Vir's shirt and stepped back, keeping the palms of his hands up where Vir could readily see them. "The only reason you got away with that," he said, "was that you were t he last person I would have thought ca­pable of doing it." "That's how I get away with a lot of things these days," Vir told him. He slid the blade back into the scabbard that was hid­den under his vest. He studied Garibaldi a moment. The former security chief was unshaven and glassy-eyed. "How long since you've slept?" "Did you know about it?" Garibaldi demanded. "About your not sleeping?" Vir was completely lost. "About David?" "David." It took Vir a moment to place the name. "Sheridan's son. What about him?" "They have him." Once again it took Vir a few moments to follow the track of the conversation ... but then he understood. "Great Maker, no," he whispered. "Great Maker, yes." Vir walked around to the bar and promptly poured himself a drink. He held up the bottle to Garibaldi as an offering. Gari­baldi took the bottle, stared at it a moment, then took a deep smell of the alcohol wafting from it before placing it back on the bar. "It's a good vintage," Vir said, slightly surprised. "Maybe some other time ... like when I'm on my deathbed." "Tell me what happened. Tell me everything." Something in Vir's voice must have convinced Garibaldi, for after only a moment's hesitation, he laid out the circumstances involving David's disappearance, in quick, broad strokes. When he mentioned the small lump of a creature on David's shoulder, Vir slowly nodded. "Drakh," he said. "What? What about the Drakh?" Garibaldi said. "Go on. I'll tell you in a minute." So Garibaldi continued, and when he was finished, Vir simply sat there, contemplating his drink. "His parents are going out of their minds with worry." "They have every reason to," Vir said. His eyes narrowed. "I think their friends are going a bit crazy, too." "Sorry about... earlier," Garibaldi told him, gesturing to in­dicate his unexpected assault on Vir. "You said 'Drakh' before. Are you talking about the same Drakh who inflicted the plague on Earth?" "The very same. That thing that you saw on David? Londo has

  one like it on him. It's how they control you, or watch you, or something like that." "Are you saying," Garibaldi said slowly, "that the Drakh are somehow involved with Centauri Prime? With this kidnapping?" Vir took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes. They have been for some time. They control Londo. I suspect they control Durla, to some degree. I also have reason to believe that a Drakh was in­volved in the death of Lou Welch." "You told me it was the Prime Candidates." "It was. But the Drakh apparently helped." He shook his head. "The plague they inflicted on Earth is not dissimilar from the plague they've inflicted on my world as well... except on Cen tauri Prime it's more covert." "I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" "I couldn't take the chance," Vir admitted. "These are agents of the Shadows we're talking about. I was concerned that if you knew they were on Centauri Prune, you would tell Sheridan, Sheridan would tell the Alliance, and that would have been all that was needed for the Alliance to come down on my people, at­tack without hesitation. The Centauri, after all, were seen as a beaten people. The Drakh would have been something that you would have gone after ... but Centauri Prime would have suf­fered. You would have killed the patient in order to annihilate the disease." "And you're not worried about that anymore?" "Why should I be?" Vir said reasonably. "They have David. I doubt Sheridan's going to order a strike on a world when it would ensure the death of his son." "Pretty damned cold-blooded of you, Vir." "I've had to make some pretty cold-blooded choices in recent years, Mr. Garibaldi. You get used to it." He sighed. "Perhaps I should have gone public sooner. By allowing them to dwell in the dark, I've let them fester and grow. But exposing them might well have meant the death of my people. With any luck, though, we'll be able to have it both ways now. We've mustered enough resistance that the Drakh can be revealed for what they are will out it amounting to a death sentence for Centauri Prime." "You told me to trust you," Garibaldi said, stabbing a finger at Vir. "You told me to let you handle things. To let the Centauri solve the problems of Centauri Prime. And I've been doing

  that. But it's no longer just the Centauri's problem. It's John Sheridan's problem, and Delenn's." "I'll handle it." "Vir!" "I said I'll handle it," Vir repeated firmly. "I'm heading to Centauri Prime right now. I've spent years-years of planning and preparing, of risking my neck and the necks of others-and it's all coming to a head. The fact that David was taken is just fur­ther indication of that. The Drakh want vengeance ... but more than that, they also want insurance. But all the insurance in the world isn't going to help them against someone they don't know « their enemy. Someone they think of as a patsy, a fool." "I'm coming with you." "Now you 're the fool," Vir said. He walked over to Garibaldi and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get David back for you, Michael. But we have to do it our way." "Who is we?" "The Legions of Fire." Garibaldi looked at him oddly. "What?" Vir smiled thinly. "I've found Earth history as interesting as Londo does. There are all sorts of end-of-the-world scenarios, did you know that? And one of them-from your Norse, I think it is-describes the world ending when a giant fire demon, Surtur, sweeps the world with his sword and cleanses it of all evil. That's what the Legions of Fire are going to do, Michael. We're going to sweep Centauri Prime clean of the blackness that's been upon it for so long. We're going to expose the Drakh presence to the rest of the galaxy. That way, we can point to those who are truly responsible for the fate of Centauri Prime. Prove that it's the Drakh who should be blamed .. . and that this pro­longed campaign of resentment and aggression has been aimed at the wrong people. That it should be stopped." "And you really call yourselves the Legions of Fire." "Do you have a better name? " Vir asked, mildly annoyed. "We could call ourselves 'Vir's Victory Squad' or 'Cotto's Cru-aders,' but that might tip off who's in charge." "No, no, it's fine. Legions of Fire. Fine." Garibaldi took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Vir ... he's my godson ... and Sheridan and Delenn are my best friends in the galaxy..." "And believe it or not, I'm your second best friend," Vir said.

  chapter 16

  "I'll get the job done, and David home safely. You have my word." "I didn't used to think that meant a lot," Garibaldi said, and then he shook Vir's hand firmly. "But now I believe it does." By the time Garibaldi returned to Minbar, Sheridan and Delenn were gone. Durla could not recall a time that he had wanted to cry tears of pure joy the way that he did at that moment. It was just as it had been in his dream. In fact, it was all he could do to make sure that he was not asleep. There were ships everywhere. Everywhere. The skies above the spaceport were filled with them. The ground was likewise thick with ships preparing to take off. They had come from all over, a few at a time, assembling on the only planet that seemed appropriate: the world designated K0643. The site
of the failed excavation program had remained for him a stain on his otherwise perfect record. Now, however, he was prepared to erase that stain by using this backwater, nothing world as the jumping-off point for the greatest campaign in the history of the Centauri Republic. The spaceport itself was nothing particularly wonderful. The buildings had been thrown together in a purely makeshift fashion. The command center, the barracks, all of them, shoddy con­struction. But they were serviceable, and that was the only im­portant thing. All of the perfection of construction, all of the craft and abilities of the hundreds of workers who had brought this moment to fruition... that was what mattered. General Rhys and all of his command staff were assembled, with last-minute checks being made, final preparations being completed. "The jumpgate has been fully tested and is on-line, General?" Durla asked. Rhys nodded. "Absolutely, Prime Minister." "No chance of sabotage?" he said darkly. "It will not go well for anyone, General, if anything should go wrong while ships are going through."

  "I tell you, sir, it is impossible," Rhys stated flatly. "It cannot, will not happen." "Well, then," and Durla nodded with approval. "That's heart­ening to hear." He looked around at the others, all waiting for his words. Surprisingly, he found himself thinking of his brother, the one whose death he had arranged out of a fit of jealousy. From time to time he had found himself wondering whether he had done the right thing. Now there was absolutely no question that he had. He had achieved the pinnacle of success, and if it was over his brother's dead body, well... so much the better. "We all understand, then," Durla said. They all nodded. Natu­rally they did. And yet he couldn't help but outline the intent of the fleet again, simply because he loved the sound of it: the words, the plan, his own voice. All of it. "We intend to launch a multistage assault on the Homeworlds of ninety percent of the Alliance governments. The ten percent we are sparing are small and relatively helpless ... and besides, we're going to need to get our new workers from somewhere, so we'd best leave a few worlds intact, correct?" He laughed at this, and the others quickly joined in. They know what's good for them, he thought grimly, and continued, "If we strike hard enough, fast enough, we can immobilize them and pave the way for full-scale assaults on their holdings. This plan of attack will leave them powerless against further Centauri aggression." "Powerless," one of the captains echoed. "I like the sound ol" that." The others nodded in approval. "We have," he said proudly, "over three thousand vessels at our disposal. The y represent the result of almost two decades of slave labor. Oh, the Alliance has had its suspicions, the rumors have floated about. But in the end-an end which is coming quite soon-they were too lazy, and we, too clever." "The Alliance does have more ships at its disposal," Rhys cau­tioned, clearly worried that his men might become overconfident. "The White Star fleet alone is a formidable one." "True," Durla admitted, but then added, "however, we cer­tainly have the single largest armada belonging to one govern­ment. We need not worry about intergovernmental disputes, or differences of opinion on the best way to attack. We will operate with one mind and one purpose, and in doing that... we cannot lose." "Coordination is indeed going to be the key," General Rhys said. "Prime Minister, if I may ..." Durla gestured for him to continue. "You all have been given predetermined points in hyperspace that will provide you access to each of your respec­tive targets. Fail-safe points, if you will. You will stay on point until everyone is in place. Then we will launch full, simulta­neous strikes on all the targets at once. You will attack military sites, the capitals, and communication centers, cutting off all the Alliance worlds from one another, instilling fear, and dividing them in panic. Since the Centauri fleet outnumbers any other single fleet, we will be able to hit our enemies in waves, one after the other, before the Alliance can organize its scattered members into any kind of cohesive force." He took a deep breath, and said, "On receiving the go-codes from the prime minister, you will launch your assaults." There was a momentary confused look shared among the cap­tains. One of them said, "Not from you, sir?" "Do you not trust my judgment, Captain?" Durla demanded suspiciously. "1 did not say that at all, Prime Minister. It is just that, since this is a military operation.. ." "And the military operation has been sabotaged repeatedly," Durla pointed out. "With all respect to yourselves, and very much to General Rhys .. . the one person I know I can trust is me. It has been my vision, my drive that has brought us to this point, and my words will launch the attack. Is that understood? Do all of you understand that?" There was a chorus of "Yes, sir" from around the table. Durla nodded in approval. "Then, gentlemen... to work." As one, they rose from the table, filing out of the room and stopping only to congratulate the prime minister on his momen­tous achievement. At the last, General Rhys hesitated. "Prime Minister..." "It will be a masterpiece of coordination, General," Durla told him. In his mind's eye, he could already see it. "I am coordi­nating with Minister Vallko. He is going to be having one of his spiritual gatherings at the great temple. There, I will address the people, and speak to them of our capturing the glory that is Cen­tauri Prime. We will stand on the brink of history ... and then I