chapter 3 Londo sat in the throne room, staring out at the rain. It had begun within minutes after his arrival back at the palace. It had been accompanied by almost deafening blasts of thunder, lightning crackling overhead, and it seemed to Londo-who was feeling rather fanciful in what he believed to be his waning moments-that the very skies were weeping on behalf of Centauri Prime. Normally such heavy rains could be viewed as cleansing, but all Londo could envision were streams of red water washing away the blood of all those who had fallen in the bombings. He could not get the image of Senna from his mind. Such pain, such anger on her face ... but there was something else, too. There had been several moments there when she had seemed as if she wanted to believe in Londo. To believe that he was capable of serving the people, of operating on not only her behalf, but the behalf of everyone on Centauri Prime. In a way, it was as if Londo had embodied the entire schism between himself and his people in this one girl. It was unfair, of course. Ridiculous, even absurd. As a symbol she represented nothing, as an individual, she meant even less. But there was something about her nevertheless. It was as if... Londo remembered when he had first met G' Kar. Even before that time, Londo had dreamt of his own death, had envisioned a Nam with his hands around his throat, squeezing the life from him. When he'd actually encountered G'Kar, he had 38 recognized him instantly, had known that this was someone who was going to factor into his future in a most significant way. Most significant, indeed. The feeling had not been quite as distinct when he'd met Senna, of course. For one thing, he had encountered her before, in passing. For another, she had never featured into a dream. Not yet, at least. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but feel that she was ... important in some manner. That what happened to her was going to matter, to the Centauri people ... and to him. Then again, what did anything matter to him? He had been drinking rather heavily that evening, as if steeling himself for what he had resolved to do. Originally he had thought that what he would have to do is slay the keeper and then-very quickly-himself, before the action of murdering the small monster could bring the the Drakh down upon him. But he had noticed that, in raising his blood/alcohol level to a satisfyingly high degree, he seemed to be dulling the senses of the keeper. The creature's presence no longer seemed so ... tangible. The keeper was so intertwined with his own neural system that he thought he could actually sense the creature snoring, in his mind. The notion that he was capable of drinking his little companion under the table became a source of great amusement to him. It was also a relief to him. He wouldn't have to contend with the keeper or whatever unknown resources it might possess, after all. By getting drunk, he was effectively taking the monster out of the picture. His blade hung comfortingly nearby. He still remained concerned about the proximity of guards, outside the doors. But he was simply going to have to take his chances. He had considered the notion of poisoning himself, but somehow that seemed inappropriate. Poison was the tool of the assassin . He should know, having planned enough assassinations in his time, including that of his predecessor, Emperor Cartagia. Besides, the keeper might actually be able to coun- teract poison, for all he knew. Now the blade-that was the classic, honorable means of dispatching oneself, going all the way back to the earliest days of the Republic. The early days. "I was born in the wrong century," he murmured to himself . "To have lived then. . . to have known the Centauri who built the Republic ... what I would give to have had that opportunity . Perhaps they would have possessed the strength to face that which I am leaving behind. But I do not. All I have tasted in my life is failure, and I think it is time for me to get up from the dinner table and let others sit in my place." "Majesty." The voice came so utterly out of nowhere that Londo jumped somewhat. He felt the keeper stir in its drunken slumber, but without being roused from it. He didn't bother to get up from his throne, but instead half turned to see a guard enter. Thunder rumbled again. It made the dinner table and let others sit in my place." "Majesty." The voice came so utterly out of nowhere that Londo jumped somewhat. He felt the keeper stir in its drunken slumber, but without being roused from it. He didn't bother to get up from his throne, but instead half turned to see a guard enter. Thunder rumbled again. It made a nicely dramatic underscoring to his entrance. "Forgive me disturbing your-" began the guard. "Yes, yes, get on with it," Londo gestured impatiently. "What is it?" "There is someone here to see you." "I left specific instructions that I am not to be disturbed." "We know that, Majesty. But it is a young girl who stated that she was here at your direct invitation. Given that, we felt it wisest to check with you before throwing her back into-" Londo half rose from his chair and steadied himself on the armrest. "A young girl?" "Yes, Majesty." "Would her name be Senna?" The guard looked both surprised and a bit relieved, as if realizing that his decision to interrupt the emperor's peaceful evening wasn't going to rebound to his detriment. "Yes, Majesty, I beli eve it is." "Bring her in." The guard bowed briskly and left, only to return moments later with Senna. She was utterly waterlogged; Londo felt as if he had never seen anyone so wet. If she had had hair, it would have been plastered all over her face. As she walked in, she left a trail of water behind her, until she simply stood there with a large puddle forming at her feet. She was shivering , but trying not to show it. "Leave us," Londo said. "Majesty" said the guard, "for the sake of your security. . ." "Security? Look at her," said Londo. "Where do you think she is hiding weapons, eh?" It was a true enough observation. Her clothes were sodden and clinging to her. There was nowhere on her person that she could have been concealing a weapon of any size. "Perhaps she will strangle me with her bare hands, eh? And I, of course, would be incapable of defending myself in such a circumstance." "I meant no offense, Majesty" the guard said. He appeared about to say something else, but then thought better of it, bowed once more, and quickly absented himself from the throne room. They remained in silence for a long moment, the only sound being the steady dripping of water from her clothes. Finally she sneezed. Londo put up a hand to hide a smile. "I wanted to know if your offer was still open," she said after a time. "Indeed. And why is that?" "Because enfolded into that offer was shelter and aid for the family that helped me in my time of need. It would be ... rude ... of me to turn down aid on their behalf. Furthermore ," and she cleared her throat, gathering confidence, "if I am here ... then I can be a constant reminder to you of what needs to be done to help your people. It's very easy to become isolated here in the palace. You can get so caught up in the gamesmanship and machinations required in maintaining power, that you too easily forget about those in whose behalf you are supposed to be using that power. But if I am here, my presence will remind you of that. You can never turn a blind eye to it, while I'm around." "I see. So you wish to live here, not out of any desire for comfort and warmth for yourself, but because of the benefit that your being here will render to others." She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I ... suppose that is right." "Did you have any shelter for this evening, I wonder? And do not lie to me," he added sharply, his tone hardening. "You will find that I am a superb judge of such things. Lie to me at your peril." She licked her lips and her shivering increased ever so slightly. "No," she admitted. "The family who took me in threw me out. They were ... they were angry that I had turned down your offer. They said it could have helped them. They said that in neglecting the needs of others, I was no different than you." "Harsh words. To be no different than I-that is no way to live." She looked to the floor. "So ... is the offer still open? Or have I wasted your time and mine, and made a fool of myself for no reason?" He considered her a moment, and then called, "Guard!" The guard who had escorted her in made his return with all due alacrity. He skidded slightly when he entered, his foot hitting the trail of water that she had left behind, but he quickly righted himself, maintaining as much of his self-possession as possible given the circumstances. "Yes, Majesty?" he said. Clearly he was wondering if he was going to be given another opportunity to throw the interloper out. "Prepare a chamber for young lady Senna," Londo instructed . "See to it that she is given dr
y clothes and warm food. She will remain in residence within the palace. Make certain, however, that hers is not a chamber near to mine. We certainly would not want the wrong impression to be given. Proximity to the imperial bedchamber might be misinterpreted by those of a more coarse bent. Is that not right, young lady?" "It is ... as you say, Majesty." Then she sneezed once more, and looked almost apologetic for it. "Yes. Yes, it is. It is always as the emperor says. Why else be emperor? Go to, then. Get some rest. In the morning, we will attend to the family who took you in ... and, as happenstance would have it, threw you out in their anger." "They were angry. Very." "I'm certain they were. But perhaps the more one is faced with anger, the more one should respond with forgiveness." "That is a ... a very interesting thought, Majesty." "I have my moments, young lady. In the morning, then. We will talk, yes? Over breakfast?" "I. . . " There was clear surprise on her face as she realized what he was saying. "Yes, I ... think I would like that, Majesty. I will look forward to seeing you in the morning." "And I you, young lady. As it happens, you see, it appears I will indeed be here in the morning. It would be rude to deprive you of a breakfast companion. And my advisors have informed me that, by morning, this storm will have passed. A new day will be dawning on Centauri Prime. No doubt we will be a part of it." She bowed once more and then, as the guard began to escort her out, Londo called, "Guard ... one other small matter." "Yes, Majesty?" He turned smartly on his heel. "Do you see that sword hanging on the wall over there?" "Yes, Majesty. It is quite impressive." "Yes, it is. I would like you to take it and put it into storage. I do not think I will be needing it anytime soon." The guard didn't quite understand, but fortunately his understanding was not required. "Very well, Majesty." He bowed, removed the sword from the wall, and escorted Senna out. She paused at the door ever so briefly and glanced over her shoulder at him. Londo kept his face impassive, although he did nod to her slightly in response. Then they departed, leaving the emperor alone with his thoughts. He sat there for some time more, listening to the rain. He took in no more drink that night, and as the time passed, he could feel the keeper slowly stirring. Lost in his own thoughts and considerations, he paid it no mind. Finally he rose to his feet and left the throne room. He made his way down the hallway, guards acknowledging his presence and majesty as he did so. For the first time in a long time, he did not feel that he was a sham. He wondered if it was because of the girl. He entered his private quarters and pulled off the white coat of office, removed the great seal and hung it on a nearby peg. He'd had a work area set up at the far end of his quarters, and he turned toward it ... and his heart skipped a beat. The Drakh was there. How long he had stood in the shadowy section of the room, Londo had no idea. "What are you doing here?" Londo demanded. "Studying," the Drakh said softly, his hand resting on the computer terminal. "Humans ... interest you, I see. You have much research." "I will thank you not to pry into my personal files," Londo said in annoyance. It was, of course, an empty expression of frustration. After all, even if he didn't like it, what was he going to do about it? "One of our kind ... studied Humans. Centuries ago," said the Drakh. That stopped Londo. He made no effort to hide his surprise . "Are you saying you were on Earth?" The Drakh nodded. "A Drakh ... took up residence there. Few saw him. But word of him spread. Word of the dark one, the monstrous one who kept to the shadows. Who drained victims' souls and ruled them thereafter," and he inclined his head toward the keeper. "They called him Drak'hul. His legend lives on ... or so I am told." It was the single longest speech Londo had ever heard the Drakh make. As if the effort of doing so had drained him, he remained silent for some time. They simply stood there in the darkness, like two warriors, each waiting for the other to make his move. Feeling bold, Londo said, "And what do they call you, eh? What should I call you-since we seemed to be bound in this living hell together." The Drakh seemed to consider the question a moment. "Shiv'kala," he said at last. Then he paused a time further, and said, "The girl." "What of her?" "She is not needed." "Perhaps. But that is not your concern." "If we say it is ... it is." "I desire her to stay. She poses no threat to you, or to your plans." "Not yet. She may." "That is ridiculous," Londo said skeptically. "She is a young girl who will become a young woman and take her rightful place in Centauri society. If I left her out on the street, where her resentment could grow and fester, who knows what she might do then, eh? I am doing us a favor." "Are you?" The Drakh did not appear convinced. Then again, with his constant but chilling smile, it was difficult for Londo to read any change at all in the Drakh's attitude. "We do not like her. We do like Durla." "Durla? What of him?" "He has ... potential." "What sort of potential?" The Drakh did not answer directly. Instead he moved halfway across the room, seemingly gliding across the distance . "We are not ... monsters, Mollari. No matter what you may think," he said. "We are, in many ways, no different than you." "You are nothing like me, nor I like you," Londo replied, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. Shiv'kala shrugged almost imperceptibly. "We will offer a bargain. We do not have to. But we offer it. The girl may stay ... but Durla will become your minister of Internal Security." "Never!" Londo said immediately. "I know Durla. I know his type. He is power hungry. And once someone who is power hungry is given power, it whets the appetite for more. The only way to deal with someone like that is to leave him famished before he develops a taste for it." "He will be your minister of Internal Security ... or the girl will leave." There was a popular Human phrase that suited such occasions . Londo employed it now: "Over my dead body." "No," the Drakh said coolly. "Over hers." Londo's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't." The comment was so preposterous that the Drakh didn't even bother to reply. "She is innocent of any wrongdoing. She deserves no harm," Londo said. "Then see that none comes to her, " said the Drakh. "For that matter see that none comes to yourself ... for her death would quickly follow." Londo felt a chill run down his spine. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Good," said the Drakh. "Then all will be well. Tomorrow you will inform Durla of his promotion." Londo said nothing. There was no need. They both knew that the Drakh had him ... had him in every way possible. Shiv'kala glanced out the window of Londo's quarters. The rain was already beginning to taper off. "Tomorrow promises to be a fine day. Enjoy it, Mollari. It is, after all, the first of the rest of your life." Londo went to the light switch and illuminated the interior of the room, then turned to the Drakh to offer a further protest over the promotion of Durla. But the Drakh was gone, as if the light were anathema to him. Londo was alone. Then he glanced at the keeper on his shoulder. It was watching him with a steady eye. No. Never alone. From his place of communion, hidden within the darkest shadows of the darkest area of the palace, Shiv'kala reached out and touched the darkness around him. He drew it about himself tightly, enjoying the coolness of it, the peace it brought him. And within the darkness, the Drakh Entire was waiting for him, attending to his communication so that he could impart to them the progress on Centauri Prime. To his surprise, there appeared to be a bit of annoyance on the part of the Entire. They did not scold him or reprimand him, of course. Shiv'kala's reputation was too great, his status too elevated, for him to be treated in an offhand or condescending manner. Nevertheless, there was ... concern ... and a desire to find out why certain actions had been taken, actions the Drakh Entire could not quite comprehend. At what game do you play, Shiv'kala? You told him your name. "He asked. It makes no difference." Why do you bargain with Mollari? Why do you not simply tell him what must be done? "For what purpose? To show him that we are the stronger?" Yes. He must know who is the master. "He knows. He knows. He is, however, unwilling to accept . He resists our hold upon him. He contemplated taking his own life." Are you certain? "Yes. I am certain. He thought to hide it from me, but he can hide nothing. He merely thinks he can. And if he cannot live under the stewardship of the keeper, we will lose him." If we lose him, then we lose him. He is simply another tool. A pawn. Nothing more. "No," said Shiv'kala sharply. The sternness of his tone drew the Entire up short. "He is more. He
is much more. He is not interchangeable, and although he is of course expendable , he is not to be so lightly tossed aside as the others. He is a visionary. We can help that which he envisions to come true. But our task becomes that much easier when our vision becomes his, as well." What do you propose? "Nothing except that caution be displayed, as much as possible . That we allow events to play out, rather than force hands. That Mollari be guided in our path rather than be forced. Particularly because if he believes certain things to be inevitable, or that certain ideas are his own, it facilitates our making use of him. It will bring matters to fruition that much more quickly and efficiently." It does not matter how subtly you wish to influence him. He will never willingly accommodate certain aspects of our plan. His spirit must be broken, not treated gently. "What will he refuse to accommodate?" asked Shiv'kala skeptically. "This is an individual who aided in the massacre of entire races. From what will he shrink?" Sheridan. He will never assent to the death of Sheridan. Nor will he willingly stand by while the entire Human race is obliterated. Not unless he is made to realize that he has no choice. "Do not underestimate the lack of love he feels for the Alliance, and for Sheridan in particular. As for the Humans ... he had no difficulty in allowing the entire race to stand, by itself, at the edge of oblivion during the Earth-Minbari War. Now, when the personal stakes are so much higher, he will be even less likely to intervene. "No, my brothers ... trust me in this. Londo Mollari is at his most effective when he feels that he has some measure of control ... even though that control is merely an illusion that we permit. One such as he will not be broken immediately . His spirit must be winnowed down. It must be carefully shaped. We must understand his weaknesses and his strengths, and work with both to our best advantage." Shiv'kala ... there are moments when it seems as if you actually like this creature. "I feel he has great potential ... and I would not see that potential wasted through mishandling. That, my brothers, is all." Very well, Shiv'kala. You have earned our trust and our respect . We leave it to you to attend to Centauri Prime, and to Londo Mollari, in whatever manner you seefit. "Thank you, my brothers." But in the end, of'course ... it must turn out the only way that it can. "With Londo's humiliation struction of Centauri Prime?" "1 assure you, my brothers ... way." and death, and the final de- Shiv'kala smiled mirthlessly. I would not have it any other With that, he felt the presence of the Drakh Entire slip away from him, like a shadow dissolving in light. And Shiv'kala was left alone, with his own thoughts and own agenda. No. Never alone. In the bowels of Babylon S, the sleeper slept. He did not know what he was, or who he was. He thought of himself merely as a vagabond, one who had found-if not a home-at least a place that was less hostile than otherplaces in the universe. Down Below had a stench, but it was a familiar stench. The doctors were there every now and then, to deal with the most scabrous. Work could be had, if one wasn't looking to question the legality of it too closely. Not much of a life ... but it was a life, and he was content. He did not know that all his memories were false. He did not know that his recollections of how he came to reside on BS were erroneous. He thought he had a fairly good eye on his world, and understood the ins and outs. He didn't realize that he understood nothing. But he would. He would. The only problem was, at the point where he understood... that was when it would be far, far too late.
Babylon 5 13 - Legions Of Fire 01 - Long Night Of Centauri Prime (David, Peter) Page 3
