by Peter David
chapter 7 "Come meet us in the Zocalo." That had been the entirety of Mariel's message. Vir wondered just who the "us" might be, even as he hurried to the Zocalo in response to Mariel's summons. It had been a very strange month for Vir. Mariel had ceased her sojourns from Babylon 5. Instead she had remained primarily on the station, continuing to be her entertaining self. And all during that time, she had continued to talk up the virtues of Vir Cotto to whomever would listen. Fortunately she was able to do so in such a charming manner that she didn't make a nuisance of herself. Vir had total strangers winking at him, nudging him in the ribs. Zack Allan was back to telling him how Mariel was "all that and a bag of chips," an expression that continued to make no sense to Vir, no matter how many times he heard it. Even Captain Lochley seemed to be regarding him differently . She said nothing to him at first, merely appeared to be evaluating him whenever he happened to be passing by. Finally Vir had gone up to her and said, "Is there a problem, Captain?" "Problem? No." "Then why do you keep acting as if you're . . . I don't know . . . sizing me up or something?" he had asked. She had smiled slightly. "I apologize. I wasn't aware I was being that obvious." "Obvious about what?" "About wondering how such a mild, unassuming individual can . . . how did she put it . . ." In a fair approximation 113 of Mariel's voice, she intoned, "'.. . can reduce a grown woman to tears of ecstasy with one well-placed, gentle caress .' " Then she batted her eyelashes at him. That was more than enough incentive for Vir to stay away from Captain Lochley. It was an exercise in the surreal for Vir, considering that, although they continued to share quarters in order to keep up the appearance of the relationship, Vir never touched her. Marie] had seemed hurt at first, but finally she had complacently settled into the life, satisfied that the distance was what Vir truly wanted. And if it was what Vir wanted, that was more than enough for her. In the night, as he lay upon the spare mattress he had obtained and tossed on the floor, he would hear her whispering to him, calling to him, like a siren of old, trying to tempt him. Galen's words kept coming back to him, and Vir felt as if he was doing penance for his deeds by depriving himself, while his body was screaming to him to indulge himself. No one would ever know. She says you do it anyway. She wants it. You want it. What matter how it came to this pass. Seize the day, spineless one! His inner dark side was quite vocal on the subject , while his conscience seemed disgustingly mute. This provided no end of irritation to Vir, who couldn't remember the last time he had had a solid night's sleep. It had been a very long month. "Come meet us in the Zocalo." Who could it be? He hurried into the Zocalo, Babylon 5's most popular gathering place, and glanced around. A number of aliens waved at him and he waved back in an unenthusiastic but determined fashion, even as he continued to scan the room. He spotted Mariel in short order, and there was a Centauri seated across from her at a table. Vir couldn't see who it was, because he was facing away from Vir. But then Mariel pointed and the man at the table turned. Vir's breath caught in his throat. "Minister Durla," he said, trying to sound casual but unable to mask his complete surprise. "What an honor. I was unaware that such an . . . an esteemed person was coming to Babylon 5." "These are dangerous times, Cotto," Durla told him. "I find it best if I do not advertise my comings and goings. The Centauri have too many enemies. We are hated by all." As if on cue, a half dozen individuals, of varying races, walked past Vir and every single one of them greeted him warmly, or winked at him, and one of them playfully nudged him in the shoulder. There was something about the appearance of boundless virility that simply commanded respect. Vir wondered why that was, and realized he couldn't even begin to hazard a guess. It may have been the single most depressing realization he'd had all year. "Vir is beloved by all," Mariel said promptly, apparently feeling the need to underscore that which assorted passersby had already made quite obvious. "Yes. So it appears," Durla said, and although there was a smile etched on his face, there was no warmth in his smile, and a positive chill emanated from his eyes. "I was speaking to Mariel of this, and other matters. The lady Mariel used to be quite the social creature. However, apparently that is no longer the case. She says she is more than content these days to remain full-time on Babylon 5 ... because of you, it seems, Cotto." "The minister apparently came all this way to discuss my social calendar, Vir. Isn't that amusing?" "I have pressing business not far from here," Durla corrected her archly. "I simply thought I would stop by and visit with our ambassador. And what better way to begin that visit than to discuss how our ambassador is doing in his post with the woman he calls ... lover." That was all Vir needed. Those few comments told Vir everything that he needed to know. Once upon a time, Vir had been one of the most "obvious" of individuals, seeing nothing beneath the surface, accepting everything that was said to him. But during his time with Londo, and then on his own, he had learned that people rarely said what was on their mind. Indeed, oftentimes they said anything but. Unlike Galen the techno-mage, the rest of the world tended to converse almost solely in subtext, and Vir had become quite fluent in the language. He immediately assembled a series of inferences, all of which seemed quite solid. He knew that Mariel had worked in some sort of spy or information-gathering capacity. To accomplish that end, she had made a habit of traveling to assorted points of interest, and had culled assorted useful tidbits from those with whom she flirted . . . or whatever it was she was doing with them. But since Vir had become the focus of her life, she had been relatively station-bound. Since she reported to someone on Centauri Prime, that someone must have wondered why her patterns had altered so drastically. Vir was quite certain Mariel would have taken no time to inform her contact of just exactly why she was staying put. She would, naturally, be waxing eloquent about the wondrous creature of light that was Vir Cotto. This would inspire an even greater degree of curiosity. Had she been reporting directly to Durla? Vir didn't think so; in the recording Kane had provided him, as evidence of her duplicity she had been addressing someone as "chancellor ." Durla was a minister at the time of that message, so she had been speaking to an underling. Why, then, had Durla come, instead of the underling? Coincidence? Never ascribe to coincidence that which could be attributed to a plan. Besides, Vir already knew the answer. Senna had told him. Durla had an interest in Mariel, and that was an interest Vir could readily exploit for all that it was worth. The man was taken with her. The minister Durla had some sort of preoccupation with Mariel. That was all Vir needed to know. "Yes, yes, that's right," Vir said quickly. He slid into the seat next to Mariel and draped an arm around her. She seemed thrilled by the contact. She started to put her hands in places she shouldn't, and Vir discreetly but firmly placed them somewhere less inflammatory. "Lovers. My lover. Her and me. What can I say?" "What indeed," Durla said coldly. In an obvious, and somewhat failed, attempt to lighten the moment, Durla continued , "I was just telling the lady Mariel that she is sorely missed back on Centauri Prime. For far too long has the court been deprived of her sparkling presence. . ." "Tragic. Absolutely tragic," said Vu: He turned to Mariel and, taking a leap of faith, said, "Mariel, perhaps you should return to Centauri Prime. I know you've been out of the social whirl back home for quite some time " That was, in fact, an understatement. Mariel had been something of an outcast ever since Londo had divorced her. Although her presence on Babylon 5 had naturally precluded her being back on Centauri Prime, certainly she had been considered a pariah. Fortunately for Vir, Mariel responded exactly as he expected . "What need have I for Centauri Prime when I have you." "Nevertheless," Vir said, "Centauri Prime is home. To feel its soil beneath your feet, to breathe the good air of the Homeworld. . ." "I couldn't think of going without you." Perfect. It couldn't have been any more perfect if he had scripted it himself. He turned to Durla and said, with an air of tribulation in his voice, "What can I say? She wouldn't think of going without me. But I fear I'm somewhat. . . how shall I put it ... I'm less than desirable to certain individuals on Centauri Prime, including-4ragically-the emperor. So I reside here, in exile." e sighed so heavily he thought his l
ungs would implode. "A true tragedy," Durla agreed. Vir waited. He knew the rest of the sentiment would be forthcoming, and he was absolutely right. "We should do something about that." "But what can we do?" Vir said with total resignation. "Yes, what can we do?" Mariel echoed. "I am Vir said with total resignation. "Yes, what can we do?" Mariel echoed. "I am ... not without influence," Durla said slowly. "It may well be that the ambassador's abrupt departure from our Homeworld may actually turn out to be nothing more than a tragic misunderstanding. Allow me to have a talk with the emperor. You are, after all, still our ambassador. You should be representing the greatness of our republic to others. But if you are kept in ignorance of that republic ... if you can only come so close and no closer ... your effectiveness is tremendously limited." "That's exactly what I was thinking!" Vir said with a tone of wonderment. "You and I, we're thinking on the same level, Minister! Who would have thought?" "Who indeed," Durla responded dourly, but he quickly brightened. "And of course, the lady Mariel would accompany you, I assume." "Oh, naturally. Naturally," Vir said quickly. "That goes without saying... although, you know, it never actually hurts to say it." "Yes. There are things that should always be we should always discuss our successes. And our failures as well. That way we can be candid with each other. We can all know where we stand." "Candor is a good thing," Vir agreed. "I mean, after all, we're all on the same side, right? We all want what's best for Centauri Prime." "Absolutely," said Durla. "For example, I had an archaeological dig that I was overseeing. Something that was providing jobs for many grateful Centauri. But the project seems to have fallen apart. It is, in short, a failure, it seems." He lowered his voice and shook his head. "Lives were lost. A sad, sad thing. You ... wouldn't know anything about that, would you ... Ambassador?" Immediately, Vir's mind was screaming. What did Durla know about Vir's presence on K0643? Had Renegar or Rem Lanas told Durla that Vir had been there? Did he associate Vir with the destruction of the Shadow base? Did he even know about the base? Vir's impulse was to start talking, and keep on talking. That was what he had a tendency to do whenever he was nervous . But it had never been clearer to him than it was at that moment that he was going to have to change his method of operation. Clamping his teeth shut with a visible effort, Vir considered the situation, and decided that the absolute last thing he could do was give in to his primary impulse. "What is there to know, Minister?" he asked. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal." "Well," said Vir, steepling his fingers and fixing a calm, level gaze on Durla. "At such time when you have decided which it is, you can let me know and we can talk further on the matter. Isn't that right, Mariel?" he inquired. He got the exact answer he expected. "Whatever you say, Vir," she said, smiling that high voltage smile at him. She turned back to Durla. "Is he not brilliant?" she asked. "Brilliant," Durla agreed flatly. He rose from the table. "It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Ambassador. And I look forward to seeing you on Homeworld again as soon as possible." "And I you, Minister." Feeling uncustomarily bold, Vir inquired , "That project of yours ... I would hope that there are others to replace it, considering that apparently it has fallen through?" "Oh, yes. Yes, there are always other options," Durla said. "I am always coming up with new concepts, new ideas." "How fascinating." Vir leaned forward, all ears. "I've always wondered ... where do great thinkers such as you get your ideas?" Durla actually laughed softly at that, as if the question-or perhaps the answer-was very amusing. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table, and said, "Dreams, Ambassador . I get them from my dreams." "What a productive use of your slumber. Here, all I ever get is a good night's sleep," said Vir. Durla's already thin smile became even more so. It was as if his lips were vanishing from his face entirely. "How very fortunate for you. Good day to you, Ambassador ... my lady Mariel." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles suavely, then turned and walked away. Vir watched him go, never taking his eyes from him. Mariel, for her part, seemed to have forgotten the minister immediately. Instead, she was taken with the notion of returning to Centauri Prime. "Will it not be wonderful, Vir? You and I, in the thick of society. There I will be, with you on my arm, so proud. The proudest woman there. Everyone will look at us, and I can only imagine what they will say." As it happened, Vir could imagine, as well. Londo would be chuckling over Vir's foolishness, just as Timov had displayed astonishment that Vir would take up with the potentially lethal woman. Durla would be watching for some crack in the relationship that would allow him to move in. Perhaps he wouldn't even wait. Obviously he had had designs upon Mariel for some time, and was only now feeling confident enough in his position of power to make a move. That very confidence might prove to be extremely problematic for Vir. And then there would be everyone else, who would likely wonder what the slightly buffoonish Vir Cotto was doing arm in arm with the emperor's cast-off wife. They might not necessarily hold Mariel in the same esteem that the diplomats on Babylon 5 did. Once they returned to Centauri, any number of possibilities presented themselves ... none of them particularly pleasant. She took his hand, then, and whispered, "Did I please you, Vir? Did I handle him in a way that satisfied you?" He felt a twinge of guilt, and he thought of the things Galen had said to him. It made him feel small. Once again, he felt as if, after everything he had been through, he was little more than a plaything of the techno-mages. Only months before, he had felt like a galactic hero, fearlessly battling Drakhs ... well, battling Drakhs, at least ... and singlehandedly destroying secret bases ... well, single-handedly with help. Yet now he looked into Mariel's eyes, and felt smaller than the smallest of Centauri. That night, after settling into bed, he dreamed. It was a very short, but very stark dream. Mariel was simply standing there, looking at him, making no motion toward him. The top of her head was gone. From the headband up, there was nothing, as if a huge section of her brain had simply been removed . And there were tears rolling down her face. No audible sobs accompanied, there was just the wetness. He reached toward her to wipe away the tears, but he could get no closer to her. A distance behind her, Galen was there, shaking his head, but otherwise mute. Vir startled himself awake. Across the room from him, Mariel was sleeping soundly. But something prompted him to draw close to her, and when he did so he could see that there were dried tears upon her face. He sat back and pondered the notion that it took only fourteen words to get someone to fall in love with you. Only fourteen words. It seemed like so few. He leaned forward and whispered to Mariel, "I'm sorry" Only two words. It seemed like more than enough. But it was not. And he knew it. And there wasn't a damned thing that he could do about it except fall back into a fitful sleep, while trying to convince himself that what he had done was right. Unfortunately, there were not enough words in all the Centauri language to do that.
