Babylon 5 14 - Legions Of Fire 02 - Armies Of Light And Dark (David, Peter)

by Armies Of Light

  EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) August 1, 2268. It was so simple. Durla puts forward an air of utter confidence, but it is only an air. He has come too far, too quickly, you see. His position as minister was a gift to him from the Drakh, who perceived him as a useful tool for their assorted plans. As a result, he was thrust into his position with no experience in the ins and outs of court intrigue. He has learned quickly and well ... but he is still learning. I, on the other hand, could teach seminars. Getting him to visit Babylon 5 was simplicity itself. Secrets are the currency in which we all trade. Senna's little investigations, her chats and probes, had told me what I needed. The New Guard, namely Durla and his ilk, still had not quite grasped the notion that keeping certain things to themselves could only benefit them. But they were still relatively young and foolish, and so when they learned things about each other, they had a habit of speaking of it to one another. The more one speaks of things, the more likely those things are to reach certain ears. Ears such as mine. It had been during one of my routine meetings with Durla, to discuss upcoming public projects. He was, at that point, seeking approval for a new structure that was to be overseen by newly minted Minister of Development Lione, in conjunction with Kuto, the minister of information. The design for the structure was simple and elegant. It would be the tallest building in the area. It would loom like a great tower over the city, gleaming pure and white, and it would have no windows. To me, it sounded most claustrophobic, but Durla insisted that it was for the security and protection of those who worked within. "Spies are everywhere," he said to me with great significance. This building was intended to house assorted offices and bureaus dedicated to the rebuilding of Centauri Prime, and to the service of the public. I t was felt that, by making it so plainly visible, it would be a source of inspiration to all of Centauri Prime. It even had a name, a name which the perpetually avuncular Kuto had come up with during one of their brainstorming sessions. He dubbed it the Tower of Power, and it was a name that-Great Maker preserve them- stuck. Ghastly name, that, but they seemed pleased with it, and it was their eyesore , after all, so I suppose they were entitled to call the beastly structure anything they wished. So there was Ourla, in the throne room, and he was pointing out to me the beginning of the Tower of Power's construction. "It will point the way, Highness ," he told me with confidence. "To where?" "To the stars. To our destiny. To the legacies that we will leave." "I see. Of course," and I sighed heavily, 'hat good are the stars when one has no one to share them with, eh?" It was a comment calculatedly conceived to snag Durla's attention, and it succeeded perfectly. He looked at me with curiosity. Normally I contributed very little to our "conferences." He spoke. I listened, and nodded, and gave approval to whatever it was he wished to do. We didn't chat or make small talk. So for me to say something vaguely approaching normal discourse was most unusual. "How do you mean, Highness?" he responded curiously. I sighed even more heavily. "We speak of legacies, Durla, but what do we mean, really? Is our legacy the achievements we strive for? The changes we make on Centauri Prime?" "Absolutely," he nodded. But I shook my head. "What you and I do here, someone else can undo when we are gone. We delude ourselves into thinking that we do something of permanence, but there is no certainty in that. No," and 1 waggled a finger, "the only true legacy for which we can strive is family. Loved ones. People to whom we will mean more than programs or building plans or imperial mandates." "I ... never thought of it quite that way, Highness," said Durla, but he didn't appear quite certain of what it was I was saying. "I have no loved ones, Durla. My one wife will forever hate me. . ." "But Highness, you asked me. . ." "I know, Durla, I know. Do not be concerned; I am not attempting to blame you for the end of that relationship." I shook my head. "There were good reasons for doing what I did, and having you do what you did. I do not regret them. But she is gone now. I have no children. Daggair, one of my former wives, is skulking about, who knows where. And as for Mariel. . ." He looked at me askance. I could see that I had finally caught his attention. Thank you, Senna. "What of her, Highness?" "I understand as I do." "What is there to understand, Highness?" I waved dismissively. "Oh, you do not care about these things. . ." of position. always have time to discuss whatever you deem worthy of discussing , Highness." He sounded properly obsequious in tone. Once upon a time, he had always had that tone. Of late, he had spoken with arrogance far more in keeping with his elevated level of self-importance. But in this particular instance, some of the old Durla was peeking through. From that point, I gave it no more than ten days before he would travel to Babylon 5, to meet with Mariel. The thing was, I had no real idea of what would happen from that point on. The truth was, Durla was not Mariel's type. I knew that for a certainty. Powerful he may be, and Mariel is indeed drawn to powerful men, that much was true. But Durla was a puppet. He did not know it, of course. But Mariel would have known. She had an infallible sense of what true power was, and her instincts would inform her that Durla was but a surrogate for some other person, or persons, who wielded the,true power. Consequently, she would not be interested in Durla, possibly without even fully realizing just why she had no inclination toward him. I knew that I was leaving a good deal up to Vir. I was giving him an opportunity , but that was all that 1 could give him. I was unsure of just what sort of true attachment Mariel might have to Vir, but I could only assume that it was artificial . Nor did I think that Mariel was likely to transfer her "affections" to Durla, unless she was absolutely positive that somehow it would bring her power. So it would be up to Vir to realize that this was his means of returning to Centauri Prime. Durla would show up with a mission to find the means of bringing Mariel back, and Vir would have to find a means of not only causing that to happen, but of making certain he was part of the equation. In a way, I suppose it was something of a test. Truthfully, I had no idea if he was up to it or not. But I had begun to believe, to some degree, in fate. If he were destined to return to Centauri Prime, then he would find a way. If it was not meant to be, why then, he would not. So Durla went to Babylon 5, and Durla returned ... And today, Vir is returning to Centauri Prime, with Mariel on his elbow. They have already arrived at the palace and, by all accounts, she is utterly devoted to him. I have to admit: I am impressed. It appears Vir has outdone himself . It could be, of course, that Mariel is simply pretending, although why she would engage in such shenanigans is a matter of curiosity. I could, I suppose, take some pride in his actions. Oddly, I am not sure whether I should or not. Any man who can wind up with Mariel professing undying devotion is a man that, perhaps, should be feared. I hope I have not done myself a disservice. It would be somewhat ironic if I wound up going to extra effort, just to bring a nemesis into my very backyard. After all, I had always thought that nemesis to be G'Kar. I wouldn't be expecting my greatest enemy to be wearing the face of a friend. Then again, fate has a habit of making its own choices.

  chapter 8 At first Gwynn couldn't be quite sure that she had come to the right place. She made her way through the streets of Ghehana, one of the seamiest sections in all of Centauri Prime, and certainly the worst part of the capital city. She did so adroitly, masking her presence with practiced ease. It wasn't that she was invisible , but anyone who happened to glance in her direction simply didn't notice her; their gaze would have slid off her without registering any sort of actual presence. It would not, however, serve in all circumstances. As confident as she was in her ability, the shadows stretched all around her in this particular section of town, and she found herself checking to see whether the shadows moved. This was not paranoia on her part. The Drakh seemed to move in and out of darkness with as much facility as their departed masters . She had the very disturbing feeling that the Drakh would have no problems discerning her being there at all. She paused outside one building that had the correct address-she was supposed to find Galen here. She placed her hands against the front door and closed her eyes, reaching out. Yes. Yes, Galen was definitely within. She sensed ma
ge energy that could only be originating with him. The door, however, was locked. This provided an impediment for her for as long as it took her to say, "Open." The door immediately attended to her and opened. What was interesting to note was that the door was not an automatic one, and only three people present on Centauri Prime would have been capable of getting it open simply by telling it to do so. Gwynn 126 was one, the other was inside, and for all she knew, the third might be, as well. As it turned out, he was. Finian was standing right there when the door opened up, and he bowed to her with a sweep of his cloak. As annoying as his attitude could be sometimes, she had to admit that she was pleased to see him. The months after the passing of Kane had been hard on Finian, for they had been friends for many years, and Finian had not taken Kane's death well at all. He had been so despondent over it, in fact, that there had been some talk about his place within their society . Finally, it had been Galen who had spoken on his behalf, which struck Gwynn as curious. Galen had spent almost no time with Finian, had barely said ten words to him, as far as Gwynn knew. Yet he had spoken so passionately on Finian's behalf that the others had given the young mage adequate time to come around. Apparently he had, although Gwynn thought she could still see traces of mourning in his eyes. "Where is he?" "No patience for niceties, Gwynn?" "Good evening, Finian. Where is he?" "Upstairs." Gwynn followed Finian up a narrow flight of stairs, which creaked under her feet. A smell of moisture wafted through the air; something was leaking somewhere. She could also hear vermin scuttling around within the walls. This wasn't exactly where she would want to establish her summer home. At the top of the stairs, she had to duck slightly under a low overhang and step over a puddle, and then they emerged into a small room where Galen was seated. Hovering in front of him was a holographic display that was constantly shifting, and it only took Gwynn a moment to realize that it was some sort of point-of-view device. In Galen's hand there was a small, black object, which was glowing softly in the dimness. She recognized it immediately as a recorder. It was taking in all the images from the display. "Is he in?" she asked. Galen nodded. "Nothing untoward so far, however. Still, the evening is young." "Unless he's caught. Then the day is over," Finian pointed out. "He knew the risks," Gwynn said. Finian's eyes narrowed. "And if he does, what of that? Are we then not to be concerned? Tell me, Gwynn, just how cold are you, anyway?" Gwynn's temper flared and she did her best to pull it under control. "Now listen to me, Finian . . ." "A better idea," Galen's sharp voice cut in, "is if you both be quiet." He was studying the holograph. "Vir ... nothing so far. Keep as you are, though. If I see something that requires further investigation, I will instruct you. Do you understand?" The holograp hic image moved up and down once. Vir must have nodded. There was silence for a moment, and then Gwynn said softly, "He's quite brave, actually." "He does what needs to be done," said Galen. "No more, no less." "As do we all. Which reminds me, Galen how transpire things with the Excalibur? Does the captain there ... what is his name again?" "Gideon." "Does he know that you are here when you are not there?" "No. Nor, I should think, would he care. Given the situation on Earth, he has more pressing matters to concern himself over than my whereabouts." There was silence for a time, as the holographic view continued to change. Then it stopped. Vir had come to a halt. Galen leaned forward and said intently, "Vir Cotto. Can you hear me? Is everything all right?" No response. "Vir," Galen prompted again, this time with just a touch more urgency. "Vir, are you. . ." Suddenly the image moved again, swiftly side to side. It was as if Vir had jerked his entire body. Then the image started moving again, indicating that Vir was once more underway. It was the first time that Galen had allowed any of the tension he must have been feeling to show. He sat back and let out an unsteady sigh, then pulled himself together and went back to watching the holographic representation with all the emotion of a statue. Then, so softly that she could barely hear herself, Gwynn said, "Do you think anyone suspects what Vir is doing? What he is up to?" "If they do," Galen replied slowly, "then he is very likely dead:" "Does he know that?" asked Finian. Galen looked at him levelly. "Let us hope not." And suddenly, Galen sat upright, as if galvanized into action. "Vir!" he said sharply. "Don't go in that room! There's something there ... some terrible danger!" But the holographic image started to shift again. Vir wasn't doing as Galen instructed; instead he was heading into the very room Galen had just told him not to enter. "He can't hear me," Galen said. "They know. They must know," said Finian. "And there's nothing we can do to save him." Even before Gwynn arrived at her destination, Vir found himself back at court. It was bustling and active, exactly as he remembered it. There was a gathering being held in the Great Hall, and it seemed to Vir that Durla and his associates certainly enjoyed partying. It was somewhat disconcerting for Vir to realize that virtually every familiar face was missing. Lords Teela and Surkel, Minister Dachow, High Minister Sulassa ... even old Morkel was gone, and Morkel had been there forever. Morkel had managed to survive even Cartagia, and that was a formidable challenge in and of itself. Now they were gone, every one of them, replaced by individuals who obviously knew one another , and all of whom were quite friendly with Durla. Durla, for his part, seemed extremely interested in determining that Vir and Mariel were having a good time. He brought person after person, minister, chancellor, assorted Prime Candidates, all before Vir and Mariel in a steady parade of faces and names so dizzying that Vir knew he'd never be able to keep them all straight. Mariel, for her part, remained her charming self. Whatever stigma had been attached to her being a cast-off of the emperor seemed to have dissolved, mostly because it was clear that Durla was making every effort to make certain that Mariel and Vir were part of the in crowd. It seemed to Vir that Durla was determined to let Mariel see just how respected and powerful he, Durla, was. Vir was finding it hard to quibble with the treatment they had received thus far. When they had received the summons from Centauri Prime, stating that the emperor was willing to set aside his "differences" and welcome Vir back with open arms, Vir had been of two minds. He had been pleased, since it meant being able to return to the planet that had given him birth, and there was certainly that sentimental attraction for him. It also meant that he would be able to accomplish that which he had promised Galen he would accomplish. He would be able to see for himself just how pervasive, if at all, the Shadow influence was on Centauri Prime. He knew there was something present, certainly. After all, Londo's disagreement with him had come from his mention of a name, a single name-Shiv'kala. Obviously that was a name associated with something dark and fearsome that Londo did not wish to have spread about. That alone was enough to support the notion that something frightening stalked Centauri Prime. Londo had still not made an appearance, and Vir was beginning to wonder if he was going to do so at all. After all, despite Vir's suspicion that Londo was the guiding hand orchestrating his return, he had no real proof. If there was one thing Vir had learned, it was that he could not possibly know Londo's mind for sure. In many ways, Londo had long ago become a stranger to him. Every so often Vir saw flashes of the man he had once known, but only flashes. It was as if that man was a beacon of light, enveloped by darkness and only able to peer out for the briefest of moments before being enveloped by the shroud once again. "You are Vir Cotto?" He turned and saw an individual whom he had witnessed in action on vid, but not seen in person. "Minister Vallko. Yes, I'm... that is to say, right. I'm Vir Cotto." The minister of spirituality looked him up and down for a long moment. He was a head shorter than Vir, and yet Vir couldn't help but feel as if the minister towered over him. "A pleasure," he said at last. "To meet you, too. I've seen some of your meetings. Your prayer meetings, I mean. You're very persuasive. Very powerful speaker" Vallko bowed slightly, but he did so without breaking gaze with Vir. "I am but the instrument of the Great Maker. What humble gifts I possess come from him.' Something that Galen had said to him months before returned to him. He had liked Vir better when Vir stammered. Since that time, Vir had come to a realization: others would very probably like
him better that way, as well. In recent years, Vir had found that his thought patterns had become clearer, more laser-sharp. If he so desired, he could put forward a very polished and confident face. But that might very well put people on their guard, and it was probably going to be better for Vir if people thought that he was a bit of a humbler. Better to be underestimated than overestimated. So when he addressed Vallko, he played up the hesitancy in his speech. "That's very, uh humble," Vir said. "Selfeffacing and, well ... everything else." "Thank you," Vallko said again, and Vir could see assessment filtering through Vallko's eyes, which were cold and appraising. "It helps that we are all of one mind. We all care about what is best for Centauri Prime." "Absolutely," Vir said, his head bobbing furiously. "What do you think is best?" Vir's head stopped bobbing. He noticed that one or two other ministers appeared to have slowed in their glide around the party and were giving an ear toward the conversation. "Me?" "Yes. You." Vir sensed the trap being laid for him. He laughed, and then smiled wanly. "What I think is best is whatever the Great Maker thinks is, you know, best. And me, I don't ... you know, I think that there are others much more, you know... that is to say, qualified ... to decide such things. So I'm more than happy to listen to their advice. Like you. People like you. What is in the interests of the Great Maker, do you think? Does he, you know ... talk to you directly, by the way? Like, a huge voice from all over . . . or does he, I don't know ... write to you. Drop you a line. How does that work, I'd really like to know" He stared at Vallko with open curiosity, obviously anticipating some deeply intriguing response. Vallko laughed softly as ifhe'd justbeen told something quite amusing. "I am not blessed enough to converse directly with the Great Maker. I divine my knowledge from those to whom he has spoken. The greatest, wisest of us. And there are ... feelings ," he admitted, apparently grudgingly. "I have feelings of what the Great Maker would like for his people, feelings that I convey to the followers." "And you have a lot of followers," Vir said admiringly. "They are the followers of the Great Maker. I am merely his vessel" "Well, that's ... that's nice," said Vir, apparently at a loss for words. He just stood there, seeming to have nothing more to offer to the conversation. Vallko looked him up and down once more, and then made a small hmmf noise that certainly sounded to Vir as if he was being dismissed. Then Vallko inclined his head slightly and walked off, the other assorted courtiers following suit, leaving Vir to his own devices. He saw Senna over in a corner, surrounded by assorted Prime Candidates. He remembered Throk from one of his previous trips to Centauri Prime. The lad had grown by at least half a foot, and he seemed even more forbidding than when Vir had first met him. He also seemed to be paying a good deal of attention to Senna, who was playing and being charming to several of the Candidates. She cast a very quick glance in Vir's direction, and he had a feeling that she would have given anything to break away, but that didn't seem possible . She gave an almost imperceptible shrug and then looked back to Throk, who was babbling on about something that Vir couldn't begin to discern. Throk's attention was taken from Senna at only one point: when Manel walked by. She didn't appear to notice him, but he reacted to her passing with a sort of goggle-eyed stare before pulling himself back into the moment and returning his attentions to Senna. "You will never have a better time." The voice was in his head and Vir jumped slightly. He had forgotten that he had inserted the listening device into his ear, but there came Galen's voice, loud and clear. Galen, of course, was correct. No sign of the emperor, none of the guests was paying him any particular mind. If he felt like strolling around the palace, now was when he should do so. "Okay," murmured Vir, before remembering that it wasn't a two-way audio link. He checked to make sure that the small triangular recording device was still in place, just under his coat, and then-trying to look as casual as possible-strolled out of the great hall. He strode up and down the palace corridors in a rather aimless fashion, trying his best to look as casual as possible. He hummed a tune to the best of his recollection, although he suspected that he was botching most of the notes. He walked into this room and that room, as if he were giving himself an extended guided tour. He heard Galen's voice in his head from time to time. "Vir ... nothing so far. Keep as you are, though. If I see something that requires further investigation, I will instruct you. Do you understand?" Vir, to indicate compliance, bowed at the hip, to mimic the shaking of a head. Then he kept moving. He had gotten to sections of the palace that he had never before been in. At one point he heard footsteps, moving with swift, sure strides. Guards. No one had specifically told him that he wasn't supposed to be there ... but then again, no one had specifically told him it would be okay. He glanced around nervously, then saw a large statue to his right. It was Cartagia, of all people. The sight of the emperor whom he had assassinated caused his hearts to skip a beat. The statue was a remarkably powerful, lifelike rendition, superbly carved. The demented smirk was so perfectly rendered that he was certain it had been carved in life. But it had been defaced, someone having scribbled words across the chest. At least, Vir thought it was words, but he didn't recognize them. It said "Sic Semper Tyrannis." The footsteps were drawing closer. Vir backpedaled and took refuge behind the statue, trying to will himself to be even thinner than he already was. His mind was already racing, trying to determine a cover story. If he was found, he could always say that he had been inspecting the back of the statue for any further damage. Around the corner they came: two members of the Prime Candidates. Vir could see them clearly from where he was positioned. Their faces were remarkably slack. The look on them was almost supernatural, as if their minds were elsewhere. Then, right as Vir watched ... a change passed over their expressions . Their tread slowed, and they looked at one another as if seeing each other for the first time. They glanced around, apparently a little puzzled as to why they were where they were. One shrugged, as did the other, and they continued on their way. They were so caught in their personal moment of befud dlement that neither of them afforded the slightest glance in Vir's direction. He had no idea what to make of what he had just seen. He started down the corridor once again. He wasn't sure why it should be so, but he felt himself feeling colder. It was purely in his imagination, though he was sure of that. But he wasn't entirely certain why. . . Certain why ... Why... The next thing he knew, there was a voice in his ear saying, "Vir Cotto. Can you hear me? Is everything all right?" At first, Vir said nothing. It was as if he had to remind his body to respond to the commands from his brain. Something had completely blanked him out. "Vir," and Galen's voice was sounding more concerned than before. It's nice to know he cares, Vir thought mirthlessly . "Vir, are you. . ." He still wasn't moving, however, and it was with tremendous effort that he pushed himself forward. His feet felt tremendously heavy, but each step took him farther and farther , and soon he was walking with-if not confidence-at least some degree of surety. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination again, but it seemed to him as if there was less and less light. What in the world was going on, anyway? It was as if he'd entered a floating black hole. There was a room off to the left. He glanced in. Nothing. Another room to the right, and still nothing. Every step, though, it was becoming harder and harder to focus. He realized belatedly that the two young Prime Candidates had come from a cross-corridor, and had not actually been in this particular section of the palace at all. Every nerve in Vir's mind was telling him that he would be well advised to get out of there. But he was concerned that he might not have such an ideal opportunity again. He had to keep moving, had to hope that he was going to be able to pull this together-whatever "this" turned out to be. He suddenly wished that he had a weapon on him, which would have been an interesting experience for him considering that he'd never used one before. He suddenly realized that he wasn't hearing Galen in his ear anymore. Perhaps the techno-mage simply had nothing to say. Then he saw the door. His eye had almost gone right past it, which was curious in and of itself. Given that this was the palace there was nothing extraordinary about it. It was a large double door, decorated with e
laborate carvings around the edges. It seemed to have a slight reddish tint to it, although Vir couldn't be certain whether that came from the door itself or was just some sort of trick of the light. He studied it for a long moment, waiting to see if there was any response from Galen. Nothing. The chances were, then, that it was perfectly safe. Either that or Galen wanted him to go in and see what was what. Once upon a time, Vir would have hesitated. Indeed, he might very well have headed in the opposite direction entirely . But he had been through too much at this point in his life to be afraid of something as benign as a door. Besides ... he was invincible. Still ... even invincibility didn't mean that one couldn't exercise a reasonable amount of caution. He placed one ear against the door to see if he could hear anything. It felt like ice. He pulled his head away, momentarily concerned that the door was so cold that his ear was going to stick to it. It pulled away from the door easily enough, but the sensation had been extremely disconcerting. "What's going on here?" he wondered out loud. The door was antique, with an elaborate handle on it. It didn't slide open and close automatically like most of the doors in the newer sections of the palace. In a way, Vir felt as if he was stepping back into another time. He gripped the handle firmly. In his entire life, Vir had never been as close to death as he was at that moment. Galen did not panic. Never came close. But he immediately turned to Gwynn and Finian, and said, "We have to get word to him. Have to stop him." "If we go in, the Drakh will know we're there," Gwynn said flatly. "They were able to detect us within the Shadow base, and that was in unfamiliar territory. They've had several years to lace the palace with detection devices. They'll know the moment we're there." "We have to do something! Look!" Finian said, pointing at the holographic representation still floating before them. There was the shimmering outline of the door. And on the other side of it was a distinctive outline-that of a Drakh. There was something else beyond the Drakh, something else in the room that was great and dark and pulsing, and Gwynn couldn't make out at all what it was. But she knew one thing for sure: within seconds, Vir was going to see it, and it would be the last thing he ever saw For the Drakh, from his body posture, was clearly poised and ready to leap upon Vir the moment the doomed Centauri set foot within. It figured that the Drakh wouldn't simply lock the door in order to prevent intruders from entering. Anyone who was curious enough to intrude into that area was someone the Drakh wanted disposed of. "There's no time. They have wards against us," Galen said. "What?" Galen's words were stunning to Gwynn. "They've actually erected wards?" But Galen wasn't talking to her. Instead he was leaning forward intensely, as if trying to get through to Vir with sheer force of will. He saw Vir's hand entering the holo image, reaching for the handle to open the door. "Vir!" he shouted. "Vir ... back away from it! Do not go in there! Hear me, Vir! Vir!" "Vir! " Vir froze in place at the unexpected voice that seemed to explode within his head. He turned and blinked in surprise, like an owl in the full glare of daylight. "Londo?" The emperor of the great Centauri Republic stood at the far end of the corridor, and it was impossible for Vir to tell what was going through his mind. Was he about to erupt in fury over Vir's presence in this part of the palace? Would he lecture him over his involvement with Mariel? Would he demand to know why Vir had dared set foot back on Centauri Prime when it had been made quite clear to him that the best thing for him to do was stay off the Homeworld for good? Londo approached him slowly, swaying slightly. Vir tried to determine whether he was drunk, but he didn't think so. Then he realized what it was: Londo was out of breath. It was as if he'd been running from some other point in the palace to get to Vir before ... ... before what? Vir wanted to glance back at the door, but something stopped him from doing so. He He wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't want Londo to realize that he had almost entered there. Or perhaps ... perhaps Londo already did know. It was so hard to say for sure. Nothing seemed certain anymore. Londo slowly strode toward him, and Vir braced himself, uncertain of what was about to happen. And then Londo covered the remaining distance between them with quick, urgent steps, and he threw his arms around Vir in a hug so forceful that Vir thought it was going to break his ribs. "It is good to see you," he whispered. "It is very, very good." He separated from him then and gripped Vir firmly by the shoulders. "You," he said decisively, "should always be at my side. That is the way it was meant to be with us, yes?" "Well, now, I don't know anymore, Londo," Vir said slowly. "You do not know? Why?" Londo had a firm arm around Vir's shoulder, and he was starting down the hallway, away from the door. Vir had absolutely no choice but to fall into step next to him. "Well," Vir said reasonably, "the last time we saw each other, you told me that we had separate paths to walk, and we should walk them from a distance. And right before that you knocked me cold because I said . . ." He felt Londo's fingers suddenly clamp onto his shoulders with such force that, with a bit more strength, his arm might find itself dangling from the socket. ". . . because I said something you said I should never say again." The grip eased, ever so slightly, on his shoulder. "That is correct," said Londo. "But that was last year, Vir. Things change." "What things have changed, Londo?" "Have you not noticed? You've had time to mingle here, I take it. Meet and greet all of the various ministers and political heads of Centauri Prime. Certainly you must have some observations to make regarding them, yes?" "Well . . ." Vir paused. "Putting aside the fact that I don't know any of them. . ." "Ah ... that is not a fact that I would put aside so quickly, Vir. There are no familiar faces anymore, Vir. And those faces that are there ... they seem to look right through me, as if I were not there. Do you know what, Vir? When enough people look at you as if you are not there ... do you know what happens next?" "You ... stop being there?" "That," sighed Londo, "is unfortunately absolutely correct . I am not looking to you to be here all the time, Vir." He stopped walking and turned to face Vir, and this time when he took him by the shoulders, it was almost in an avuncular manner. "But your last visit was so unfortunate, so tempestuous ... I just want you to feel that you can come and go here as you please. That you will not be a stranger here." "If that's the case, why didn't you simply invite me back here? Why all the subterfuge?" "Subterfuge?" Londo raised an eyebrow. "I'm not certain exactly what you mean." There was a hint of warning in his voice, and Vir immediately realized that he had erred. He wasn't sure why or how. It was just the two of them. There was no one else around, as near as Vir could see. Londo didn't even have a retinue of guards following him. So it wasn't as if they had to watch everything they said. Then again ... how could Vir know for sure? There might be spy devices planted anywhere and everywhere. Why not? After all, he was carrying a device on him that at that moment-was feeding information directly to Galen. So if he went into detail as to the little bits of information that Londo had been feeding him, he might very well betray all Londo's efforts, to someone who was listening in on their every word. The slightest flicker from Vir's gaze to Londo was enough to let the emperor know that he understood. Out loud, however , Vir said mildly, "I suppose `subterfuge' isn't the right word. I suppose what I'm asking is, why didn't you just come right out and say so." Londo nodded ever so slightly in mute approval. Without saying a word, they had said everything. The rest was simply for the benefit of whomever else might be listening. "It is not simply for me to say," Londo answered him. "There are many considerations that must be made these days. For all the power that I wield, there are others whose feelings must be considered." "Others such as Durla," Vir said hollowly. Londo inclined his head slightly. "Durla is minister of security . You, Vir, seemed on quite friendly terms with Timov. We know what happened with her." "But that's-" Londo didn't let him finish. "And let us not forget that you are stationed on Babylon 5." Vir wasn't following. "So?" "So you spend a good deal of time associating with members of the Alliance. They are rather pervasive on Babylon 5, after all. I think-and this is purely my speculation, mind you--I think Durla does not entirely know where your loyalties lie." "My loyalties?" Vir actually laughed bitterly at that. "Londo, the people on Babylon 5 regar
d me with suspicion because I'm Centauri. If it weren't for Mariel charming all of them, none of them would even be speaking to me. As it is, even with their speaking to me, I know they still don't trust me. Perhaps I should tell Durla that. . ." "Oh yesss. Yes, you do that," Londo said with heavy sarcasm in his voice. "You go right to Durla and tell him that the Centauri ambassador to Babylon 5 garners no respect and is not trusted. That is certain to elevate your stature here at court." He knew Londo was right about that, but wasn't entirely sure where to take it from there. "So ... so what do you suggest?" "You are here, Vir. For now ... that is enough. Durla seems inclined to tolerate your presence here, and that should be enough to keep the situation stable for the time being. From what I understand, Mariel is working the same magic here that she was able to perform on Babylon 5. We have a new court, you see. The stigma attached to her, as a discard of the great Londo Mollari, seems far less problematic for all the new faces presently inhabiting the court. We should not be surprised over that, Vir." "We shouldn't." "No. Because, you see, the Centauri have no sense of history . There was a Human who once said `Those who do not listen to history are doomed to repeat it.' You know," and he chuckled softly, "for a backward race, those Humans certainly know what they're about." "Did a Human say those words scribbled on Cartagia's statue?" They had passed the statue only moments before, and Londo cast a glance behind him, even though the statue was out of sight. His eyebrows knit a moment in confusion, and then he remembered and smiled, showing his pointed canines . "Ahhhh yes. Yes, they did. I wrote them." "You?" Vir couldn't help letting his surprise be in evidence . "You did?" "Yes. I wrote them in honor of you ... our answer to Earth's Abraham Lincoln. Oh, wipe off that innocent look upon you, Vir. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Helping to save the Narns. Do you think me entirely without my own resources , Vir?" He made a scolding, clucking noise with his tongue. "You must think me the greatest fool on Centauri Prime." "Oh, no, Londo!" Vir protested. "I don't!" "It's all right, it's all right," Londo told him. "In all likelihood, it's an accurate enough assessment. The point is, Cartagia died at your hand. And part of you ... " His voice softened. "Part of you died that day, too. Yes?" "Yes," Vir said softly. "Well ... when Abraham Lincoln died, his assassin called out, `Sic semper tyrannis.' It is an old Earth tongue called Latin. It means `So is it always with tyrants.' Anyone who is a tyrant can look forward to similar unhappy endings. Words for us both to live by. For me ... and for you ... when you are, eventually, emperor." "The prophecy," Vir sighed. "Sometimes I wonder whether to believe it. Sometimes I wonder whether to believe in anything." "I stopped wondering about that a long time ago." "And what was the answer you came up with?" "Believe in nothing," Londo told him. "But accept everything." Vir laughed bitterly at that. "And if you do that ... what? You'll live longer?" "Oh, Great Maker, I hope not," sighed Londo. "But it will make the time you are here that much more tolerable." Minister Castig Lione threaded his way through the courtiers and got to Mariel's side. She was deep in pleasant conversation with several others when he placed a hand on her arm and said, "Lady Mariel ... if I might have a minute of your time?" "For you, Minister?" She smiled that dazzling smile that could bring most mere mortals to their knees. "Tivo minutes." She draped an arm through his elbow and together they moved off from the crowd. Castig Lione guided her, gently but firmly, to his office in another wing. Because of his great height he had to bend somewhat to do so, but he managed to accomplish the task and still look less than foolish. The moment his office door was sealed behind them, he turned to face her with a grim expression on his face. "Would you mind telling me," he said briskly, "what you are playing at, milady?" "Playing at?" She looked genuinely puzzled "I do not understand, Minister." "You, Lady Mariel," and he stabbed a finger at her, "are supposed to be working for this office. You are supposed to be reporting to me. Instead," he said with arch sarcasm, "you appear to be spending most of your time under Ambassador Cotto." She didn't come close to losing her composure. "Are you implying I am not doing my job, Minister?" "No, I am not implying it. I am coming right out and saying it. The amount of valuable information you have been turning in regarding the Alliance has dwindled. Need I remind you, milady, that this office is serving to keep your account at a healthy level. You would do well to remember that, unless you believe that Ambassador Cotto's personal fortune will be enough to sustain you." "Vir is not a rich man, Minister, and furthermore I resent---2' "I resent this game you are playing, Lady Mariel," Lione told her flatly. "Cotto was simply supposed to be a cover, a means to an end. Yet you seem to have lost sight of that and become genuinely enamored of him. That is not tolerable." "A woman's heart cannot be regulated by memos and mandates , Minister. It's high time you remembered that" "And it is high time you remembered, milady, that Vir Cotto is-" "Is not up for discussion, Minister. That aspect of my life is personal." "A personal life is a luxury you cannot afford to have, milady ," Lione shot back. "As long as I am associated with you." "Correct." "Very well," she said with a small shrug. "Then I will resign , effective immediately." "It is not that simple, milady," Lione said. "It is for me." "No. Not for anyone." His voice became low and-most frighteningly-friendly. "You are a spy, Lady Mariel. There are those who would not be pleased to know that their confidences have been leaked to this office. I assure you that I can make certain, with n o hint of connection to this office, that some of those individuals find out just what you have been up to." Mariel glared at him, her jaw steely and twitching. "You would not dare." "Yes. I would. Tell me, milady ... how long do you think you would survive then, eh? You and your beloved Vir Cotto. I would not care to take those odds." She was silent for a long moment. "What do you want?" she finally asked. "What you do in your own time is of little interest to me, milady. But I want more of your time devoted to me. I want it to be as it was. If it is not," and he smiled, "then it will not be anything. And neither will you. Is that clear ... Lady Mariel?" "Perfectly." Her grimness of expression was a marked contrast to Lione's. "Good. Enjoy the rest of the party, then. And I shall look forward to hearing from you. . . on other matters." It was the laughter that followed her out that most angered Mariel, and she resolved to make certain that Lione paid for his arrogance at the earliest opportunity.