by Peter David
“We are more like our enemies than we care to admit,” Galen said, which surprised Vir somewhat. He hadn’t expected any sort of confirmation of a sentiment spoken mostly in anger. “Nevertheless, there are … differences.”
“Such as?”
“We have more charm, and we’re better dancers,” Finian offered.
Everyone stared at him.
“I thought the moment might benefit from a bit of humor,” he said.
“Would that something humorous had actually been said.” Gwynn sniffed.
“Fine, then,” Finian said, obviously annoyed that his moment of levity had been so soundly rebuffed. “So what do you suggest we do?”
“The information must come from someone trustworthy,” Galen said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “There are those who will not trust anything associated with a techno-mage. There is one reasonable course of action. I shall tell Gideon. He, in turn, will convey what we have learned to the Alliance , where-“
“Where they can bomb us into nonexistence?” said an alarmed Vir. “They’ll learn of something Shadow-related existing on Centauri Prime, assume the worst—’
“Probably a safe assumption,” Gwynn said.
Vir pointedly ignored the comment, and continued, “-and the bombs will start dropping again. And this time they won’t back of until they’ve flattened us.”
“Sheridan, then,” suggested Finian. “Gideon trusts Sheridan . If he-“
“Not Sheridan. Not Gideon. Not nobody,” Vir said with an air of finality. “This is an internal problem on Centauri Prime. So we’ll handle it internally. That’s all.”
“There is far more at stake here than that,” Gwynn made clear to him. “We’re not talking about some low-level politician lining his pockets with graft. We are speaking of an entire race using Centauri Prime as its stronghold, with a biologic weapon perched on the shoulder of your world’s emperor…”
“That’s right. My world. My world,” Vir said in no uncertain terms. “And I will attend to my problems on my world, and we will keep them that way. I don’t want others catching wind of this. If they do, it’ll be a bloodbath, and I will not be a part of that”
Gwynn appeared ready to square off and go head to head with him, possibly on matters of priorities, or possibly just to have the opportunity to beat the crap out of him. But the slightest touch of Galen’s hand on her shoulder stilled her. Vir wondered whether Galen was simply quite persuasive, or whether there had been some ensorcellment employed. Galen looked him up and down, and finally asked, “What, then, will you be a part of, Vir Cotto?”
“I won’t turn against Centauri Prime”
“You have to do something. You cannot simply walk away from what you have seen here.”
“I’ll keep an eye on things. Keep myself apprised. Learn what there is to learn, make certain that things don’t go too far… or if they do, then I can … I can. .
“Then you can what?” said Galen.
“Then I can make them go back to the way they were”
Galen shook his head. He did not look particularly convinced , and Vir couldn’t entirely blame him. He didn’t sound especially convincing. But he spoke with a conviction that he was not entirely certain he felt. “Look, the fact is, you need me.”
“Do we?” There was cold amusement reflected in Galen’s eyes.
“You said it yourself. You need me to put something together . I can do that, but it will have to be done slowly. It’s obvious now that I can come and go as needed.”
“Coming and going may be insufficient”
“Then what would be sufficient, Galen?” demanded Vir in exasperation. Before the techno-mage could say anything, he suddenly put up a hand. “No. Never mind. I know what to do.”
“What?”
“It’s enough that I know. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Let’s not,” Galen said firmly.
Their gazes met, and Vir knew that Galen wasn’t about to let this go. It was obvious that the techno-mage was not happy at all with the notion of simply keeping covered up the darkness that had infested Centauri Prime. He was obviously still leaning toward making public the firsthand proof they had acquired. But Galen knew that, in doing so, he was effectively dooming all of Centauri Prime. The Alliance would not see the Drakh influence as a cancer that could be surgically removed, they would simply sweep in and kill the patient, and then pat themselves on the back for a job well done.
It was Gwynn, however, who spoke, as if she had read his mind. “You desire to know how we are different from the Drakh, Vir? The Drakh would put your race on the firing line and care nothing for their actions. The death or survival of the Centauri carries no weight with them, one way or the other, except in terms of how it serves their interests. We do not wish to be the bearers of information that will cause the demise of the Centauri, unless we have to. Provide us with reasons not to, and we will be able to cooperate with you. But you must give us something-or we can give you nothing.”
So he told them what he had in mind.
To a great degree, he was making up his strategies as he went. He was fully cognizant of the fact that they would take time, and he made that clear to them, as well. The techno-mages listened patiently, thoughtfully, and when he was done, they looked at one another. To Vir, it seemed as if they were communing. He had no idea whether that was within their power to do, and at that moment he didn’t care overmuch. All that mattered was making sure that Centauri Prime survived for as long as possible. Every day that passed meant another day that the Drakh could spread their influence … but it also meant another day that his people were alive, and where there was life, there was hope.
“Very well, Vir,” Galen said after a time. “I still do not approve-“
“I don’t need your approval,” Vir interrupted. “Just your silence.”
“For now”
Vir inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “For now, yes.”
“Good luck to you, then,” Finian said. “There’s a good deal riding on your ability to accomplish these things, Vir.”
“Are you vaguely under the impression that I’m unaware of that?” Vir said, sounding more snappish than he would have liked, but understandably so given the circumstances, he thought. “Now if you’ll excuse me-”
He turned, and suddenly Galen said, “Oh, and Vir … one other thing…”
Vir whirled toward him, his patience as frayed as rotting leather. “What, Galen? What `one other thing’ are you going to toss at me now? That I should be careful because I’m risking not only my life, but also those of others? That I shouldn’t trust you to keep your silence? That out there, the people of Centauri Prime are blissfully sleeping, unaware of the fact that we are conspiring to try and prevent them from certain annihilation, and that I’m probably never going to sleep again? That my best, and possibly only, friend in the world, has a one-eyed parasite on his shoulder and is suffering every hour of every day, and that the only way he’ll ever know peace is in the grave, and I can’t do a damned thing about it, so I shouldn’t let it worry me? Is that what you are going to say?”
Very mildly, Galen replied, “No, I was going to say you might want to remove the microphone from your ear. It won’t stay in there forever, and you shouldn’t have to answer questions if it falls out at an inopportune time.”
“Oh. Uhm. . ”
But there didn’t seem to be a lot he could say in response to that.
He tapped the device out of his ear into his palm, placed it on a table, and walked out without a look back.
“That man,” Finian said, “is the last, best hope for peace in the galaxy.”
“I think I’m the one who’s going to have trouble sleeping tonight,” Gwynn said dourly.
EXCERPTED FROM
THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date)
March 18, 2269.
I wish there were some way I could have prevented it.
Alas, poor Vir. It was inevitable, I suppose. Here he was, the poor fellow, making another return visit to Centauri Prime, in the company of Mariel. And he leaves without her. In a way, it is the most beneficial thing that could have happened to him. What is most remarkable is the brave face that he is putting on it. But I do not believe it. Vir is the type to give his heart fully, and not wisely, and he could not have committed a more grievous error than giving it to Mariel.
But to lose her to … that … person? Feh. Whatever difficulties I may have with Mariel, no matter how poisonous I consider her, it grieves me to see Vir hurt … even as I am led to believe that this is probably the best thing that might have happened to him.
- CHAPTER 10 -
Durla leaned forward in his chair, clearly not certain that he had heard Vir properly. “Do I … what?” he asked.
“Want her,” Vir said flatly. He was speaking with a remarkable air of boredom and disdain that Durla would never have thought possible from the ambassador. It was possible that he had underestimated him. But before he made any adjustments in his view of Vir, he had to fully understand what it was that Vir was asking. “Do you want Mariel?” Vir repeated.
“Ambassador,” Durla said in a slow, measured tone, “putting aside for a moment my personal wants and desires … the lady Mariel is a free woman. She cannot be bartered.”
“Women,” Vir said, “do as they’re told. Of course,” he added ruefully, “they have an annoying way of letting us know what they want so we can tell them to do it, eh?”
Minister Durla had trouble believing this was the same person he had met with on Babylon 5, in the Zocalo, a little less than a year ago. Vir seemed so … so blase. So blase. So world-weary. Durla had also believed that, when they had first met, Vir had felt some degree of trepidation toward him. Now, however, the ambassador was speaking as if they were old friends. Durla wasn’t entirely certain what was prompting this degree of familiarity, and although he also was not sure that he appreciated it, he wasn’t entirely sure that he disliked it, either. He had thought he’d had Vir Cotto fairly well pegged as a harmless buffoon. If he was wrong about that, then it might be entirely possible that Cotto actually posed a threat. On the other hand, he might also prove useful. It was far too soon to make a judgment.
“Certainly,” Vir continued, “you must have noticed that the lady Mariel is paying an annoying amount of attention to you
“She seemed … quite friendly, yes,” said Durla. “But I wasn’t attributing it to anything save general sociality.”
The truth, of course, ran far deeper than that.
Durla had known Mariel since they were both young, and he was in love with her, had been for as long as he could remember . She had always aroused a hunger within him as no other woman had, before or since. In order to attract her attention and interest, he had raised her from obscurity—a condition prompted when Londo Mollari had dismissed her—and assigned her to work under Chancellor, and later Minister, Lione. She owed everything about her current return to status to Durla, and he had silently-and foolishly, it seemed-waited for her to notice and appreciate him.
Instead she had hooked up with Vir, so that Durla barely made any impression on her. It had been enough to drive him to paroxysms of fury.
When he had finally managed to calm down—a process that had required several months-he had decided that he had had enough of subterfuge. Under the guise of desiring the return of Vir Cotto and a reinstatement of his relationship with the emperor, all out of his concern for Londo’s well-being, of course, Durla had arranged for Vir and Mariel to be his occasional guests. During that time, he had done everything that he could to attract her notice, to impress her with his power and privilege. That was, after all, what she ultimately sought.
However, it had seemed to him that his efforts had remained utterly in vain. Oh, she was polite enough, charming enough … but she spoke incessantly of Vir and of how wondrous an individual he was, to the point where Durla was wondering why he had even bothered. He had reached a point where he had resigned himself to never having Mariel, because he couldn’t begin to understand how the woman’s mind worked.
And now, all of a sudden, Vir had simply wandered into his office, dropped down into a chair opposite Durla’s desk, and began chatting. From nowhere, his “offer” in regard to Mariel had been broached. Durla wanted to think it some sort of absurd joke. After everything he had done, after the scheming and involved placement of individuals … it couldn’t be that simple, could it?
“It’s more than being sociable, I assure you,” said Vir. For a moment he looked uncomfortable and fidgeted slightly in his chair. He lowered his voice slightly, and asked, “Can I trust your discretion, Minister?”
“Of course! Absolutely,” Durla said.
“Because I have my pride, the same as any man. And this, well … this situation … is not one that I am exceedingly pleased over.”
“It never leaves this room,” Durla assured him.
Vir leaned forward, his fingers interlaced, and in a low voice-as if concerned that they were being overheard-he said, “The fact is, the woman doesn’t stop talking about you. Whenever we are alone, and even in the company of others back on Babylon 5, she speaks of nothing but you.”
“When she is with me, she speaks only of you.”
Vir waved dismissively. “A cover, nothing more. She is a subtle creature, the lady Mariel, and it wouldn’t be in character for her to speak so effusively of you when you’re near her. But she hasn’t been covering as well lately as she had been. You must have noticed.”
Durla thought about it, and realized that Vir was right. She had been looking at Durla differently. Her hand, lighting upon his shoulder, had remained a bit longer than would have been normal. She had definitely been more flirtatious.
He had been afraid to hope, though … hadn’t dared allow himself…
“But what she says to me in private, well…” Vir shook his head. “She’s made her sentiments quite clear. The simple fact is that she wants you, Durla. She’s dying to be with you. And, to be blunt, I’m getting tired of listening to it. Listening to her pining away. And as for our sex life, well,” and he snorted ruefully. “How do you think I felt when she cried out, `Oh yes, yes, Durla, yes!’ at exactly the time you wouldn’t want to hear another man’s name mentioned. I mean, honestly!”
“How … how embarrassing that must have been for you. And to admit it now … But…” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. If she desires to be with me, why doesn’t she just … I mean, she is not your chattel, your property…”
Vir looked even more uncomfortable than before. “Well, to be honest … in a way, she is.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Vir said with a great sigh, as if unspooling a deep secret, “that the Lady Mariel is not … how shall I put it … not with me completely of her own free will.”
At first Durla had no idea at all what Vir could possibly mean. But then he did. In a hoarse whisper, he said, “You’re … blackmailing her?”
Vir looked taken aback. “Blackmail? You accuse me of blackmailing my own paramour for the purpose of getting her to be with me?”
“My apologies, Ambassador, I didn’t mean-“
“Don’t apologize. That’s pretty much it.”
Durla had no idea what to say. On the one hand, he found it repulsive. On the other hand, he almost admired Cotto for the sheer audacity-to say nothing of the almost jovial way in which he admitted to it. “What are you, uhm … how do … that is to say…”
“What am I blackmailing her with?” He shrugged. “It really wouldn’t be honorable of me to say, now, would it.”
“Perhaps. But then again, it isn’t exactly honorable of you to have blackmailed her in the first place.”
“A good point,” admitted Vir. “But then again, a man who lusts after a female will do just about anything. Besides … she served a very specific purpose. Sh
e made me look good”
“Look good?” Then he understood almost immediately. “To others on Babylon 5.”
“Exactly. You know, Durla, you’ve seen her. A man with a woman like that on his arm, fawning over him… it can’t help but raise him in the estimation of other men. But let’s be honest, okay?” He leaned forward. “Look at me. Seriously, look at me. Do I look like the kind of man that a woman like Mariel would be drawn to? I have my moments, certainly, but let’s face it: I’m not her type. You see, though, why I wouldn’t want this information to leave the room.”
“Of course, of course. For others to think that she stayed with you simply out of fear that you would expose her via some … extortionist threat. Still … you are essentially saying you want to be free of her, for all intents and purposes. To `give her’ to me, as you put it.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced. “Why? If there is one thing that I have learned, Ambassador, it is that people rarely act out of the goodness of their hearts. Generally speaking, they want something. What do you want?”
Vir let out a long, unsteady breath. Some element of his polished demeanor seemed to be slipping, and it might well be that his genuine emotions were beginning to slip through. Without looking at Durla, he said, “Believe it or not, Minister-I was once a decent man. A man who never would have dreamt of forcing a woman to be with him. I … used to be someone else. Someone I liked better.” His gaze flickered back to Durla. “I have been viewing some of Minister Vallko’s prayer meetings lately. Got them via vid delay on Babylon 5. Even went to one in person this morning. And he was talking about what Centauri Prime should be, and what we should be. Of what we should be living up to, and how we should be aspiring to what we once were.”