chapter 14 "I want him dead. Whoever did this, I want him dead." Garibaldi was trembling with barely suppressed rage. He was standing in a Centauri morgue, where he had been summoned to come and identify the body of one Lou Welch, Human. Welch's body lay unmoving on the slab, surrounded by Garibaldi, G'Kar, and Durla, their faces grim. A coroner stood nearby, impassive. "The emperor regrets that this has come to pass," Durla began. "The emperor regrets. He couldn't be bothered to come here, is what you're saying." "He had other things to which he needed to attend . . :' "So did this guy!" snapped Garibaldi, stabbing a finger at Welch. "And he's not going to get to attend to them, because one of you bastards did this to him!" "Mr. Garibaldi, I resent that phrasing-" Garibaldi silenced him with a gesture. "Ask me if I care;' he said tersely. "Let me make this absolutely clear, Minister. Whoever did this, I want his head on a platter with some nice garnish and a few lemon wedges, and I want it now!" "Michael, this isn't accomplishing anything," G'Kar said softly. "You know what, G'Kar? I don't care! If I keep silent, I still won't be accomplishing anything, so I might as well accomplish nothing at the top of my lungs!" "Mr. Garibaldi, this is regrettable," Durla said, "but the simple truth is that Centauri Prime is no more immune from crime and random acts of violence than any other world . . ." 213 Garibaldi circled the slab and came right up to the minister. "This wasn't anything random. He found out something, and one of your people did this." "Found out something. What would that be?" "About what you people are really up to." Durla's eyes narrowed. "If you have some specific charge," he said in a measured, deliberate tone, "then I suggest you take it back to President Sheridan. If you do not, then I will thank you not to throw around unsupported allegations, since they will do nothing to alleviate the tensions between our races. To the best of my knowledge, however, we have been quite forthcoming in answering all your questions, and proving to you that your accusations of military buildup have been groundless. As unfortunate as this situation is, what it most definitely does not need is to be complicated with unrelated accusations." Garibaldi took all this in; then he leaned forward until he was right in Durla's face. When he spoke, it was so softly that Durla had to strain to hear. "If I find out," he murmured, "that you, or someone who answers directly to you, had anything to do with this ... then I swear to God, Minister, I will kill you myself." "I would not advise that," said Durla calmly. "That would create an incident." "We've already got an incident," Garibaldi said, indicating Welch. "And someone is going to pay for it." His hands were opening and closing as if he was trying to find someone whose throat he could wrap them around. And then a voice said sharply, "I don't think threats are going to help." "Ambassador Cotto," Durla said quickly. "Your timing could not be better." "Or worse, depending on your point of view," said Vir. He crossed the morgue, looking around uncomfortably. "Chilly in here," he said. Then he looked down in undisguised dismay at the body on the slab. That was one thing that Garibaldi genuinely liked about Vir. It was impossible for him to hide what he was thinking. Vir's face could be read more easily than a data crystal. At least, that's what Garibaldi once would have thought. Now, though, he thought there was an air of inscrutability to Vir that hadn't been there before. Vir had changed in the time since he'd last seen him, Garibaldi realized, and he didn't think it was for the better. Vir turned to the coroner, who was standing a few feet away. "Do we know the cause?" he asked. It was Garibaldi who answered. "Yeah. The cause was that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and found out something he shouldn't have, and was killed for it." "That's a serious charge, Mr. Garibaldi." "Hey!" said Garibaldi. "It's not like Lou was picked up for jaywalking! A man is dead! As crimes go, they don't get much more serious than that. Serious crimes require serious charges-and serious punishment." It was G'Kar who spoke up. "At the moment, Mr. Garibaldi , the one who is being punished is you. You are not responsible for Mr. Welch's death simply because you brought him here." "Whose side are you on?" Garibaldi said, with a sharp look to G'Kar. "Yours and his," G'Kar said promptly. "However, he is gone, and I don't think you'll be helping anyone with histrionics . There will be an investigation, but getting angry at the men in this room will not expedite it, nor will it create anything resembling the proper atmosphere for an investigation." "Thank you for understanding, Citizen G'Kar," Durla said. G'Kar fired him a look that froze the words of thanks in his throat. "I don't want, or need, your appreciation, Minister. What I want is your cooperation ... and yours, Mr. Ambassador . If you desire the continuation of anything remotely approaching normal relations between your people and the Alliance.. ." "Normal relations?" At that, Vir laughed bitterly. "Look, G'Kar, I hate to remind you, but at the moment `normal' translates a s `We're watched for the slightest hint of aggressive behavior, so that people like you can be sent down to monitor us ... and have something like this happen as a result .' " With that he indicated Welch's corpse. G'Kar took a step toward Vir, studying him very carefully, as if dissecting him with his eye. "We are depending upon you to help us handle this matter, Ambassador. For what it is worth ... I have always had a great deal of respect for you." More harshly than G'Kar or Garibaldi would have expected , Vir replied, "Let us be candid, Citizen. You dripped blood at my feet to symbolize dead Nam, as if it were my fault. No one in this galaxy ever made me feel smaller than you did at that moment. So you'll excuse me when I tell you that your claim to have respect for me ... well, that isn't worth much at all." There didn't seem anything that Garibaldi or G'Kar could say in response to that. Instead, Garibaldi looked down once more at Welch, then rested a hand on his cold shoulder, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Lou." Then he and G'Kar left without a backward glance. "Tragic," said Durla, shaking his head sadly. "Most tragic." "Minister ... I'd like to be left alone with him for a time." Vir glanced at Durla, then at the coroner. "If you wouldn't mind." "Alone? Why?" asked the coroner. "I knew this man," Vir said. "He was a friend, after a fashion. I'd ... like to say some prayers. They're personal. I'm sure you understand." "Of course I do," said Durla, who looked as if he didn't, but wasn't inclined to argue. "Will you be coming by the palace during your stay? Say hello to Mariel, perhaps?" "Perhaps," said Vir. "Thank you." The two Centauri exited the morgue, leaving Vir alone with Welch. He stared down at the dead man, shaking his head in silence. "How did you get here so quickly?" It was Finian who spoke, having practically materialized at Vir's elbow. He was carrying a staff, which Vir hadn't seen him doing before. Fortunately enough, by this stage in Vir's life, it was becoming almost impossible to startle him. He merely stared at the techno-mage, and said, "Did the coroner see you enter?" Finian gave him a look as if to say, Oh, please. Deciding that pretty much served as an answer, Vir continued , "What do you mean, how did I get here so quickly?" "I mean I sent a message to Babylon 5 only a short while ago, telling you what had happened. How did you manage to travel the distance so quickly?" "I didn't get your message," Vir replied. "I. . ." Before he spoke more, he reflexively glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Then he continued, albeit in a lower voice, "I had already left Babylon 5. Mariel contacted me privately the moment she learned that G' Kar and Garibaldi were here. She felt it would be best if I was here while they were here. I think she was right, although I doubt she was expecting anything like this." He looked up at Finian. "So what happened? You wouldn't be here if you didn't have some idea." "He had been using Shadow technology." "Shadow technology?" Vir could scarcely comprehend it. "Where would he get that?" "I don't know," admitted Finian. "Might have been happenstance . Most likely it was. He used a transparency web. It gave him limited invisibility. The use of it in the city drew me to him, and I arrived in time to see his body being hauled out of a building. I followed the people who were dumping him." "What building? Can you take me to it?" "Yes," Finian said distractedly. "It appeared to be a stronghold for those charming lads you refer to as the Prime Candidates." Vir moaned. That was not news he had wanted to hear. The Prime Candidates-the servants of Durla, the pets of Lione. This was not going to be easy. "He found ou
t something, didn't he." "I expect that he did." "I wish we could find out what it was." Finian was silent for a moment, and then he said, "There... is a way." "What? What way?" Finian turned to him and said slowly, "The brain ... is one of the greatest technological marvels of nature. Still, in the the final analysis, it is simply a computer. And data can be downloaded from any computer... even one which has crashed." "You can ... you can extract that information from him? Even though he's gone?" "In theory, yes. I've never done such a thing myself... but I know the technique. I simply ... wish I didn't have to. Gwynn or Galen could do this with much greater equanimity than I could. But Galen has his own problems involving Captain Gideon, and Gwynn is attending to other business. So I'm afraid that I am it" "Is it difficult?" "A bit. I did bring a bit of help," he said, gripping the staff a bit more tightly. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Yes. Keep the coroner out of here." "Of course," Vir said matter-of-factly. "This will take a few minutes. I don't need him in here." "All right." "Oh, and before you go, hand me that cutting tool, if you would." Vir did as he was asked, then headed out to the coroner. The coroner, for his part, seemed perfectly inclined to head back into the morgue, and Vir did the fast thing that occurred to him: he broke down in sobs. "Great Maker ... were you close with that fellow?" asked the coroner. "I love him like a brother!" Vir cried out. He didn't even bother with the nearby chair; he simply sank down onto the floor, weeping piteously. Finding a source of tears wasn't all that difficult for him. All he had to draw upon was everything that had happened to him, and everything that he had done in the past several years, and the misery welled up effortlessly. Summoning tears was not a problem; for Vir, it was restraining them on a day-to-day basis that had been the challenge. Consequently, Vir managed to keep the coroner occupied with finding a sedative that would calm Vir's nerves. The fellow finally located something and handed it to Vir, who popped it in his mouth gratefully and lodged it securely in his cheek so that he wouldn't swallow it. When the coroner turned away from him for a moment, Vir spat it into his hand and stashed it in his pocket. "Are you feeling better?" the coroner asked him at last. Vir nodded, but he still had that air of tragedy draped around him. "I am so sorry you have to endure this," said the coroner. "You, Ambassador, are a soul in pain." "Yes. I know," Vir said with utter sincerity. "You need a drink. Come ... I'll close early today, and we will go out and speak of happier things." At which point, the coroner rose and started to head into the examination room. "No, wait!" Vir called out. "Uhm ... stay here, just a few minutes, until the medicine kicks in!" "You'll be fine, Ambassador. I'll just be a moment. I've already left the body out too long." "But if you'd just . . ." However, the coroner had already walked away. Vir felt his stomach lurching into his mouth. Finally, in a last ditch attempt to alert Finian that someone was coming, he called out as loudly as he could, "But do you have to go back into the exam room? Do you really have to? " The next thing he knew, he heard an alarmed yelp from the coroner, and was certain that Finian had been spotted. He scrambled to his feet and ran into the examining room, not sure what he could possibly say or do, but determined that he had to do something. When he got there, he found the room empty save for Welch's corpse and the coroner-who was white as a sheet. He didn't seem sickened; certainly he had seen far too much in his life for that. But his attitude was one of barely contained rage. "Who did this?" he demanded. "Who did this?" "Did what?" said a confused Vir, and then he saw it. The top of Lou Welch's head had been neatly removed. Sections of his brain had been meticulously and precisely removed and put into a pan nearby, and-Vir was positive that it was his imagination just for a moment, they seemed to be pulsing as if with a life of their own. Then whatever movement he saw, real or imagined, ceased, and he was left with his stomach wrenching itself around in fits of uncontrollable nausea. He knew he wasn't going to be able to contain himself. The best he could do was lurch to a nearby garbage can and thrust his head into it as everything that he had eaten in the past twelve hours made its violent return engagement. The early evening air shored up Vir as he stood outside the building, leaning against the wall, his legs quivering. He had made his excuses to the coroner, which had not been a difficult accomplishment. The coroner, considering the circumstances , seemed disinclined to go anywhere, and he promised Vir a full investigation into the outrageous circumstances surrounding Lou Welch's mutilation. "Vir." He realized that his name had just been said several times, and it was only around ... ceased, and the fourth or fifth time that he really, truly heard it. He turned and saw Finian standing just inside an alley, gesturing that Vir should join him. Fired by a cold fury, Vir immediately headed toward the techno-mage, joining him in the relative dimness of the alley. "How could you?" he whispered furiously, with such intensity that his voice came out gravelly. But Finian was, at that point, totally without the casual calm that techno-mages so often affected. Indeed, he looked as shaken as Vir, and when he held up his hands they were specked with blood. "Are you remotely under the impression that was fun for me?" he demanded. "You had the luxury of becoming ill! I didn't. At least. . . not until I got out here." He leaned against the alley wall, looking shaken, and it was only then that Vir caught a whiff coming off Finian's breath. The techno-mage had been violently ill recently, as well. Nastily, Vir couldn't help but think that that was something he would have liked to see. "There had to be some other way," Vir insisted. "Oh, you know that, do you?" snapped Finian. "Your many years worth of training as a techno-mage has given you that insight, has it? I'm not a ghoul, Cotto. I don't derive any sort of sick pleasure from carv ing up the bodies of the dead. I did what had to be done. We've all done what we've had to do. Some of us are just less sanctimonious about it than others." "I just . . ." Vir steadied himself. "I just wish you had warned me." "Believe me, you would not have wanted to know." Vir knew that Finian was right about that. If, during the time that he'd been working to distract the coroner, he had been thinking about what Finian was up to in the next room over, his ghastly imaginings likely would have hampered his ability to do his part of the job. Seeing that there was no point to pursuing or discussing the matter further, Vir sighed, "All right, so . . . so did you find what we needed?" "Throk." "Throk." Vir didn't follow at first, but then he realized. "Throk? Of the Prime Candidates? He's the one who killed Lou Welch?" Finian nodded. "With his bare hands." "Great Maker," Vir whispered. "I know him. He's . . . he's just a boy . . ." "He's a young man whom I would not care to cross," Finian said. "But why did he kill him?" As quickly and efficiently as he could, Finian laid it out for him. Told him of the Centauri buildup, told him of the border worlds on which it was occurring, told him of the secret agenda that was being supported by the Centaurum. Throughout the recitation, Vir simply stood there, shaking his head . . . not in denial, but in overwhelming disbelief that all this could be happening to the world of his birth. "My guess," Finian added, "is that there was a Drakh involved in the murder, as well. I can't say for sure, because if there was, the creature didn't reveal itself while Welch was alive. But that would be the only reasonable explanation for Welch's technology having failed him when it did." "So ... what do we do now? We have to tell-" "Tell who?" Finian asked quietly. "Tell what? There is no one in authority you can truly trust, and even if you do find someone ... you have nothing you can really tell them. What would you say? `A techno-mage extracted information from Lou Welch's brain and told me that Throk was responsible.' You have no proof, and the only verification that the Prime Candidates are likely to provide is that they'll make sure your corpse winds up next to Lou Welch's." Vir nodded slowly. Once again, there was no point in denying anything that Finian was saying. He turned and paced for a moment, then paused. "All right, then," he said finally. "My main job is to prevent this from getting any worse than it already is. And there's only one way to do that. But here's what I need you to do. . ." He turned back to Finian and knew, even before he looked, that the techno-mage was gone. "If he doesn't stop doing that, I'll kill him myself," muttered Vir. Vir made
certain to have Garibaldi and G'Kar at a safe distance from the palace when he told them. As it so happened, he had chosen the spot where Senna had, once upon a time, spent days studying with one of her teachers, gazing at clouds and wondering about the future of Centauri Prime. Vir didn't know that, of course, although the future of Centauri Prime happened to be uppermost in his mind, as well. His more immediate concern, though, was that he needed to avoid having the outraged shouting of Garibaldi echoing up and down the corridors. Such an incident certainly would contribute very little to the cause of trying to make things right. He needn't have worried. When Michael Garibaldi became as angry as he was at that moment, he tended to speak in a very low, whispered voice. "First," Garibaldi said, very slowly and very dangerously, "I want to know what you haven't told me." Vir had to give Garibaldi credit. The fact was, Vir hadn't told him everything. He had said that the Prime Candidates had been responsible for Lou's death, but hadn't specified which one. He had told them about how Lou had died, but hadn't mentioned the possible involvement of the Drakh. And he had told them of the military buildup, but not how he had managed to find out about it. "I've told you everything I can." "Vir ... " "All right, fine," Vir said in exasperation. "A techno-mage sliced open your friend's brain and extracted the information that way. Happy?" Garibaldi threw up his hands in exasperation, and turned to G'Kar. "You talk to him," he said to G'Kar, indicating Vir. "Vir," G'Kar said carefully, "you have to understand: before we move on this information, we need to know-" But Vir didn't let him finish the thought. "You can't move on it." Both G'Kar and Garibaldi, who had spun back around, said, "What?" "You can't move on it," Vir repeated. "I've told you about this as a show of good faith. You cannot-must not--do anything about it. The only one you can tell is Sheridan, and only if he likewise promises to make no move." "You're insane," Garibaldi said flatly. "G'Kar, tell him he's insane." "Well," began G'Kar, "I think if you study the. . ." "G Kar! " "You're insane," G'Kar told him. "No, I'm not," Vir shot back. "But I'll tell you what would be insane: letting the entire Alliance know what's going on, so that they can go after Centauri Prime." "I don't give a damn about Centauri Prime," said Garibaldi. "Yes, you've made that quite clear. But I don't have that sort of choice in the matter." "And we're supposed to just let this go. Is that what you're saying?" "I'm saying that I won't let it go. I'm saying that I'm going to do something about it." "You are," Garibaldi said skeptically. "You. Vir Vir stepped in close, and there was such cold fury in his eyes that Garibaldi reflexively stepped back. "I hear the condescension in your voice, Mr. Garibaldi. I know what you're thinking. You think I'm incapable of doing anything. That I'm inept. You think you know me. "You don't know me, Garibaldi. These days, I don't even think I know me. But I know this: this is a Centauri matter, and it shall be handled in the Centauri way." "And what way is that?" "My way," Vir said "Believe me, Garibaldi, you want me as an ally, not as an enemy. And I'm giving you the opportunity , right now, to decide which it's going to be. Choose." Garibaldi bristled, clearly not pleased with having ultimatums shoved in his face. But before he could say anything, G'Kar put a hand on his arm and tugged slightly, indicating with a gesture of his head that Garibaldi should follow him. Working hard to contain himself, Garibaldi did so. They put a respectable distance between themselves and Vir before speaking in low tones. "You're expecting me to go along with this? Just go along with it?" Garibaldi said, before G'Kar could even open his mouth. "Sheridan sent us here on a fact-finding mission. You expect me to go back and tell him `Sorry, Mr. President. We lost a man and, yeah, we found out some stuff ... none of which we can do anything about, because I didn't want to upset Vir Cotto.' For all we know, Vir's full of crap! For all we know, he's behind the whole thing!" "Calm yourself, Mr. Garibaldi," G'Kar said. "You don't believe that for a moment." Garibaldi took a deep breath. "All right ... all right, maybe I don't. But still-" "Lou Welch's passing was a terrible thing. I wasn't as close to the man as you, and I know you feel it your responsibility since you brought him in on this. But the truth is that, yes, we were sent here to find facts, and we have found them. Now we have to determine what to do about them." "We tell Sheridan. . ." "And what he, in turn, does with them will depend heavily on your recommendation. Before you give that recommendation , Mr. Garibaldi, I suggest you consider the following: The Alliance, and Earth, do not need another war at this time. Morale is at an all-time low, since no cure for the Drakh plague has yet been discovered." "The Excalibur is working on it. Gideon says he's close," said Garibaldi. "And he said the same last year. Perhaps he is. Or perhaps he is trapped in what your people call Zeno's paradox, where he perpetually draws half the distance closer to his goal, but never reaches it." "What are you saying?" "I'm saying that more bad news, of this significance, is not necessarily needed." "You're suggesting we cover it up?" "I'm suggesting that we accede to Vir's request that he be allowed to handle it. If we provide that, then you and Sheridan will have a valuable ally within the royal court. He will be a useful source of information. Plus, you have to consider the long term." "The long term." Garibaldi shook his head. "I'm not following." Lowering his voice even more, G'Kar said softly, "That man is going to be emperor one day. So it would behoove you to lay the groundwork now for a solid relationship. Vir Cotto is the future of Centauri Prime." It took a few moments for Garibaldi to fully process what G'Kar was saying. "The future of Centauri Prime." He chucked a thumb at Vir, standing a short distance away, idly pulling on his fingers. "Him. That guy." G'Kar nodded. "And would you care to tell me, great mystic, how you happen to know that?" Unflappable, ignoring Garibaldi's tone of voice, G'Kar said, "One evening, when Vir was rather in his cups, he told Lyta Alexander of a prophecy made by one Lady Morelia ... a Centauri seer whose veracity is well known, even on my Homeworld. Lyta and I have spent a good deal of time together in recent days, and she told me." "So let me get this straight," Garibaldi said. Despite the flip nature of his words, he did not sound remotely amused by the notion. "You're telling me that you heard thirdhand that some Centauri fortune-teller predicted Vir would someday become emperor, and I'm supposed to let Lou Welch's killer, plus an entire secret war movement, slide, based on that. Her `veracity is well known.' I never heard of her. How am I supposed to know if she's so wonderful." "Lady Morelia also predicted that Londo would become emperor, years before it happened." Garibaldi didn't reply immediately to that. Instead he scratched the back of his neck, then looked around at Vir, who hadn't budged fr om the spot. "Lucky guess," he said finally. G'Kar's gaze fixed upon Garibaldi, and when he spoke next, Garibaldi understood how this man had forged himself a place of leadership on his Homeworld. His words were quiet, direct, and filled with utter conviction. "Michael," he said, dropping the formal surname for the first time that Garibaldi could recall, "there is something you must understand ... and perhaps you already do, on some level. You and 1, Vir, Londo, Sheridan ... we are not like other men." "We're not." He wasn't quite sure how to react to that. "No. We are not. We are creatures of destiny, you and I. What we say, do, think, feel . . . shapes the destinies of billions of other beings. It is not necessarily that we are that special . But we were born at a certain time, thrust into certain circumstances ... we were created to act, and accomplish certain things, so that others could live their own lives. It was ... the luck of the draw. And as creatures of destiny, when that destiny is previewed in whatever small amounts it chooses to reveal itself to us ... it would be the height of folly for us to turn our backs on it, disregard it. Indeed, we do so at our extreme peril. "There is enough peril in the galaxy right now, Mr. Garibaldi , that I do not think it necessary to add yet more." Garibaldi stood there for a moment, taking it in. Then, without looking at Vir, he gestured that the Centauri should join them. Vir quickly walked over to them, a look of quiet concern showing clearly on his face. "So you want to keep this matter in-house, as it were," Garibaldi said. "Keep it quiet. Hush it up, so that the Alliance doesn't come down on you with all guns blazing, and pound you flat into nonexistence ..
. just as you tried to do with the Nams." "I could have done without that last part, but yes, that is essentially correct," Vir said dryly. "All right," Garibaldi said. "We play it your way ... on one condition." "And that would be?" "You're asking for a hell of a leap of faith here, Vir. I'm not a leap-of-faith kind of guy. I tend to look before I leap. You want me to have faith? You give me something to look at. You understand what I'm saying?" "I ... think so. . ." He nodded his head, but then shook it. "Actually, I'm not entirely sure, no. . ." "Someone killed Lou Welch. That someone has to pay for it, to my satisfaction. You know who it is, don't you." "Yes," said Vir. "Then I want him delivered up. I don't care what you have to do, what paths you have to clear. I want it done." "What you're asking is impossible," Vir told him. "So is what you're asking. Me, I try to do at least one impossible thing a day. I suggest you practice the same goal, and start today. Understood?" Vir was silent for a very long time, and then he said, "If I manage justice for Lou Welch ... you will keep the Alliance away from Centauri Prime." "For as long as humanly possible. You'll have the opportunity to ride herd on it. But you've got to show me you're capable of doing so. I don't care how you get it done. Just do it. Do we have a deal?" He extended a hand. Vir, however, did not shake it. Instead he looked down a moment, and then said very softly, "Yes. I will keep you apprised." And then he turned and walked away, leaving G'Kar and Garibaldi looking at each other in silence. "He'll never get it done," said Garibaldi. "He'll cover for the guy. Or he'll give us more excuses why he can't be brought to us." "I think you're wrong," G'Kar told him. "In a way, I hope so. I'd like to see Vir succeed. I think, at heart, he's the best damned man on this planet. And in a way, I hope not ... because I'd like the chance to find the guy who killed Lou ... and do to him what he did to Lou Welch. Sounds like a win-win proposition to me." He smiled, but there was nothing except pain in the smile.
Babylon 5 14 - Legions Of Fire 02 - Armies Of Light And Dark (David, Peter) Page 14
