by Peter David
“Why are we waiting until tomorrow?” Welch asked.
Garibaldi was busy unpacking the few articles of clothing he had brought with him. Welch, who had brought even less than Garibaldi, already had his gear stowed in the adjacent room. “Because there’s not going to be anything there,” Garibaldi told him flatly. “Whenever people are eager to have you inspect something-their apartment, their ship, their planet, whatever-doesn’t matter. It means they’ve already got whatever it is you’re looking for safely tucked away where they think you’ll never find it .”
“So you’re saying his being willing to be forthcoming is just proof that he’s covering something up.”
“More or less,” said Garibaldi. “There’s one of two options here, Lou. Either the Centauri really are up to nothing … or they’re up to something, but it’s not here.”
“Which begs the question of, if they are up to something … where is it happening.”
“Yup. Any thoughts?”
Welch gave the matter some consideration, pacing the room while scratching behind his ear as if trying to tickle his brain into operation. Finally he said, “You believe in gut hunches, Chief?”
“You’ve known me this long, you have to ask me that?”
Welch chuckled at that and then grew serious again. “Those kids. Those Prime Candidates. They were all over the place, did ja notice?”
“Yeah, I noticed. It was kind of spooky. No matter which corner we turned, there were more of them. It was like running into clones of the same person.”
“I think they might be the key to this. Or at least they might be worth exploring.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Welch stepped out onto the narrow balcony and gestured for Garibaldi to join him. He did so, and Welch pointed. “See 'em?”
Garibaldi looked where Welch was indicating. There was a small cluster of the Prime Candidates heading in the direction of the city. They were moving in synchronous step, with such perfect regimentation that they might well have been the same person, simply replicated. “So I was watching them from my balcony a little bit ago. There were more of them, heading in exactly the same direction , and some coming back, also from the same place.”
“You want to follow them.”
“Exactly, Chief. See where they lead. See what comes up.”
“All right,” Garibaldi said. “When did you have in mind?”
Welch abruptly coughed, very loudly and hoarsely. Then, with a greatly exaggerated croaking, he said, “I think I feel a cold coming on. It should be pretty nasty by tomorrow.”
“I’ll send your regrets along,” Garibaldi said.
G’Kar heard the soft footfalls behind him and did not even have to turn to see who it was. “Hello, Your Majesty” he said.
Londo came up behind him, his hands draped behind his back, and he was clearly puzzled. “Londo. You, G’Kar, of all people, know that `Londo’ will more than suffice. I was told you were down here. Is there any particular reason? Were the accommodations I provided for you so wretched that you think a dungeon would be preferable?”
For that was indeed where they were; in the subterranean dungeons far beneath the palace. G’Kar was standing at the doorway of one particularly odious chamber, with a stench so foul that Londo had to fight to repress his gag reflex. He heard the faint scuttling of tiny claws across the floor and wondered what sort of vermin were running about within.
“Oh, no, the room you’ve arranged for me is more than satisfactory” said G’Kar. “I am simply reminiscing about this … my home away from home.”
At first Londo had no idea what G’Kar was talking about, then abruptly he understood. “Of course. This was where Cartagia put you. This is the very cell.”
G’Kar nodded. He actually patted the door frame as if he was happy to see it. “You would probably say that your Great Maker moves in mysterious ways, Londo. I would tend to agree. Cartagia put me in here with the hope of breaking an enemy of Centauri Prime. Instead he is long gone, and I have survived and have become far more formidable than even Cartagia could have imagined. I learned a great deal while I was down here. It helped to forge me into what I am today.”
“And … what are you today?”
“Do you mean … am I your enemy?” G’Kar said.
“Yes.”
“Ah, that is the nice thing about matters being the way they are between us, Londo.” He turned to face the emperor. “We do not have to mince words, you and I. No, Londo. No, I am not your enemy.”
“If you were, would you tell me?”
“A reasonable question. No. Very likely not.”
“I see,” sighed Londo. “You are disgustingly candid, G’Kar. It is a trait I once found charming. Now it is merely annoying. And tell me … if you were my friend, would you tell me that?”
“Of course I would,” said G’Kar.
There was silence.
“You,” Londo said, “are the single most irritating individual I have ever met.”
“You see?” G’Kar replied. “What could be more proof of friendship than that? Who but a friend could be anywhere near as irritating as I am?”
At that, Londo laughed low in his throat. “Would you care for a drink, G’Kar? For old time’s sake? For the memory of whatever it was we once were … or might be again?”
“That,” G’Kar said briskly, “sounds like an excellent idea.” G’Kar turned away from his one-time prison and followed Londo up to his private quarters. Halfway there, a most surprising face greeted G’Kar.
“Lady Mariel!” he said as he saw her approaching from the other end of the hallway. “A pleasure to see you!”
“Likewise, G’Kar,” she said softly. “I had heard that you had once again graced us with your presence.’
“Are you,” and his questing glance went from Londo to Mariel and back, “in favor once more in the court?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said with that customary dazzling smile. “Not in the emperor’s favor, particularly … but in favor nonetheless.”
“Does she not remain as charming as ever?” said Londo jovially. Then he laughed, as … … if he were about to say something preposterous. “You know, we three should get together more often. We always have so much fun when we do.”
“The last time we did, as I recall, you almost died,” G’Kar reminded him.
“Yes, Yes, I know. That is what provides the fun, yes? That sense that anything can happen. You know,” and he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “I actually thought … you will laugh … I actually thought that you, G’Kar, and you, Mariel … were having an affair.”
“No!” said Mariel, shocked. “Londo, how could you?” G’Kar’s face bore a similar look of incredulity.
“Oh, the imagination plays remarkable tricks, my dear,” Londo told her. “At one point during my party, I saw G’Kar toss a grape to you. The passing of fruit is a quaint Narn custom that is part of the Narn courting ritual. The fruit symbolizes sexuality, or some such thing. Yes, G’Kar? Yes? No? Am I recalling correctly?”
“I’ve heard something about that old tradition, yes,” G’ Kar said dismissively, “but sometimes, Londo, a grape is just a grape.”
“Yes. So I hear,” Londo said. “In any event, what is past is past. Mariel … would you care to join us?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Highness,” Mariel said. “I had best be to bed. There are others who require my attention.”
“To bed, then. G’Kar…” and he gestured for the Narn to follow him. “I hope you were not offended by my little speculation ,” he said as they continued down the hall, the Lady Mariel heading off in the opposite direction.
“Not at all, Londo.”
And then, in a low voice, Londo said, sounding no less friendly, “I know the two of you were together, G’Kar. Please do not insult my intelligence by implying that I am unaware of that which is so obvious. I would hate to become enemies again, particularly over a woman who means so little to me. We unde
rstand each other, yes? Good! So … did you know that, as emperor, I have the best wine collection in all of Centauri Prime?”
“Somehow,” said G’Kar, “I’m not the least bit surprised.”
- CHAPTER 13 -
Lou knew that the journey to Xonos would guarantee that Garibaldi, G’Kar, and Londo -plus whatever assorted guards and such were going to be accompanying them-would be gone until the late evening. That had been what he was hoping for, because the cloak wasn’t at its most effective during broad daylight. Early evening was fine, and nighttime … well, nighttime, forget it. There was simply no chance of spotting him, no matter how hard you looked. Somehow the cloak seemed to stretch and shape the shadows to conceal him, so it took minimal effort for him to keep his presence concealed.
“Cloak” was probably a misnomer. He had never really known what he should call it. A “web,” perhaps. A “screen” might also be accurate enough. But somehow, “invisibility cloak” gave it a certain panache.
The “Ghost.” He’d heard that name mentioned, and it always amused him tremendously. If they only knew. If any of them only knew.
He’d kept to himself during the day, naturally. After all, if he was claiming that he was ill, the last thing he’d want to do is gallivant around the palace in what was obviously the pink of health. So he spent the day reading, keeping the door closed, allowing meals to be brought to him-during which he covered himself up in the bed and made assorted disgusting noises so that the servants would be inclined to leave the food and depart as quickly as they could.
When he saw the sun sinking on the horizon, however, that was when he made his move.
He removed the delicately woven cloak from the hidden bottom of his suitcase and unfolded it carefully on the bed. He’d never forget the day that he had stumbled upon it, exploring that fallen ship on Cygnus 4. He’d been working a security gig at a power plant there, employed by an eccentric owner who was convinced that hordes of crazed Martians-little antennaed green ones, not the real thing-were trying to take over his factory. While he’d been there, planetary sensors had detected a ship entering the atmosphere, a ship that had spiraled down and disappeared from the sensors as quickly as it had appeared. Welch, along with a team, had been dispatched to inspect it and make sure that no crazed Martians with their killer death rays were emerging to conquer the relatively unappealing Cygnus 4.
What Welch had found was a ship unlike any he’d ever seen. It looked slightly like one of those bizarre spiked ships that had shown up on ISN several years before, but it had significant differences, as well. It was as if it shared the same technological base, but had gone off in another direction.
He had discovered a creature therein, a creature unlike any race he’d seen before, even on Babylon 5. Grey-skinned, and chilling to the bone. The thing had been killed upon impact, and Welch couldn’t have been happier. He had the feeling this wasn’t something he wanted to face while it was breathing.
And upon further inspection-while telling the rest of his people to stay back in case there was some sort of danger-he had discovered the cloak.
He hadn’t known what it was at first. He had, however, managed to scare the hell out of himself, for he had seen the fine, silvery, woven fabric and had attempted to pick it up. In doing so, he let out an alarmed yelp as his forearm abruptly vanished. Convinced that he had permanently maimed himself , Welch had fallen back, only to find his arm rematerializing instantly. He stared stupidly at his arm, turning the hand back and forth as if to assure himself that it was, in fact, there. Then he reached for the fabric once again, a bit more confidently this time. He’d wrapped it around his hand, and that disappeared as well, but this time he wasn’t the least bit alarmed.
He had never seen anything like it, and he was reasonably certain that it had no parallel in current science. The closest comparison he could make was that it was like a changeling net, except what it did was transform anyone over whom it fell, so that they effectively blended seamlessly into the background . Through experimentation, Welch had discovered its limitations, including the fact that it remained deactivated as long as it was folded in upon itself. Unfolded, however, it began working instantly-a tremendous inconvenience that time he had unthinkingly tossed it into his bedroom and then taken half a day to find the damned thing again.
None of the others in his security team had seen the cloak, and he hadn’t been about to volunteer knowledge of its existence . Instead, he had carefully hidden it, and used it judiciously on subsequent jobs. He had, as Garibaldi made note, acquired quite a reputation, although people didn’t truly realize just what it was he was getting a reputation for.
So there on Centauri Prime, Welch draped the cloak around himself, head to toe. He looked down and could see the rest of his body perfectly. That was one of the aspects of the cloak that it had taken him a little while to understand: Once he was completely under it, he was visible to himself. But if any part of him was uncovered, then he himself couldn’t see the parts that were hidden. It made a strange kind of sense to him. The only thing he could figure out was that the cloak somehow managed to bend light around it, convincing onlookers that they were seeing things around it. But if light was completely bent away from whoever was wearing it, then that meant light wouldn’t be reaching the wearer’s eyes, and he would be effectively blinded. So obviously the thing was crafted to make sure that didn’t happen. How, he couldn’t even begin to guess.
He did know that if he brought it to an EarthGov lab or something, they could probably figure it out. But he sure as hell would never see it again, and he wasn’t about to let such a valuable acquisition slip through his fingers.
He emerged from his room, glanced right and left, then started down the corridor. Two guards were approaching. Just to play it safe and make sure that the cloak was functioning, he made a grotesque face and tossed an obscene gesture at them. They didn’t acknowledge his presence or give him so much as a glance.
Perfect.
Lou headed toward the main entrance of the palace, and while on his way he heard youthful voices. Unless he very much missed his guess, that was a group of the Prime Candidates, on their way out. He congratulated himself on his timing, which apparently could not have been more perfect.
Sure enough, there was half a dozen of them heading out. Welch couldn’t help but notice that they didn’t seem to interact like normal teenage boys. There was no banter, no bravado, no strut or cock-of-the-walk attitude. Instead they spoke in straightforward, businesslike terms. They kept their voices low, obviously wanting to keep Prime Candidate business to themselves. This was definitely not a group that Welch would comfortably have fit in with, even when he had been a teenager.
They headed away from the palace, going in the same direction as the other groups that Welch had observed the previous day. Lou fell into step behind them. As always, he kept his strides modest, and was careful not to swing his arms or in some other way move in a remotely jaunty fashion that might possibly dislodge the cloak. The last thing he wanted to do was suddenly materialize. Needless to say, that would likely have attracted attention.
They headed into town, and Welch caught sight of a massive tower that looked to be about in the center of the city. He’d heard someone make passing reference to it when they had first landed on Centauri Prime. The “Tower of Power,” they’d called it. It was supposed to be symbolic. As far as Lou was concerned, it was symbolic of how much of an eyesore people could construct in their city if they were really, really dedicated.
They kept on moving, Lou right behind them. The farther they got into the city, the more nervous Lou felt. He was invisible, yes, but he wasn’t intangible. There were quite a few folks on the streets, and people could still bump into him if he wasn’t careful. Since no one was making any effort to stay out of his way, it was everything that Lou could do to stay one step ahead of Centauri passersby. He also almost managed to get himself killed when he forgot that a passing vehicle couldn’t see him
and wasn’t about to stop for him. Only fast reflexes and a bit of luck enabled him to get out of the way in time.
During that near-accident, Welch momentarily lost sight of the Prime Candidates. For a moment he thought he’d completely blown it, but then he saw them turn a corner, and he sprinted after them. Luck was with him, for that section of the sidewalk happened to be clear of pedestrians for the moment. Otherwise, he would never have managed to keep up with them; either that, or he would have had to act as a sort of invisible football lineman, knocking people out of the way so he could get to where he was going.
One of the things he noticed was how people seemed to look at the Prime Candidates. He considered them to be a fairly creepy bunch of young men, but it seemed to him that Centauri chests swelled with pride when the Candidates walked past. Welch couldn’t believe it. The truth was so obvious and clear to him: here were the youth of Centauri Prime, being brainwashed into good little soldiers who did whatever they were told with no thought, no conscience. Welch believed as much in the chain of command as any military man, former or no. But he also knew that swearing to obey orders, at least in EarthForce, didn’t mean tossing aside morals and doing whatever was asked of you, no matter how repellant. Although he hadn’t seen much of the Prime Candidates in action, he could see it in their eyes, in their demeanor. These kids didn’t care about anything except their organization and the people who ran it.
He saw them head into a fairly nondescript building that was set off by itself. There wasn’t anything on it to identify it as a gathering place. Yet, not only did the group of Prime Candidates that he had been following enter, but several others came out. It was enough to make Lou very, very curious as to just what might be inside the building. Might be nothing. Might be something useful. No real way to tell unless he went in and looked around…
He had no desire to simply walk in, though. An invisible entrance might be noticed. So he took up a post just outside the door and waited. He had all the time in the world. He leaned against the wall, started to whistle softly, and then caught himself and shut up. He did so just in time; a man walking by was looking around in mild confusion. He shrugged it off and continued on his way.