1-The Long Night of Centauri Prime

by Peter David

  “I did, Majesty” one of the guards said, stepping forward. “She was resisting, and I -“

  “Get out,” Londo said without hesitation. “If you cannot rein in a single child without brutality, you have no place representing the office of emperor. No, do not look to Darla!” Londo continued, anger rising. “I am still the power here, not the captain of the guards. I say you are out. Now leave.”

  The guard did not hesitate. Instead he bowed quickly to the emperor and walked quickly away. Londo then turned back to the girl and found nothing but disdain on her face. “You do not approve of my action?” he asked.

  The question had been intended as rhetorical, but she immediately shot back a reply.

  “You discharge a single guard and fancy yourself the protector of the people? Don’t make me laugh.”

  “The insolence!” raged Durla, as if he himself had been insulted . “Majesty, please permit me to-”

  But Londo held up a calming hand and looked more closely at the girl. “I have seen you before, yes? Have I not?”

  This time she didn’t offer an immediate reply. “Answer your emperor!” Durla snapped, and Londo did not remonstrate him. Youthful insolence was one thing, and tolerance certainly could be a virtue, but if one’s emperor asks a question , then Great Maker, one answers the question or suffers the consequences.

  Fortunately enough, the girl at least had the good sense to recognize those things that were worth taking stands over, and those that were not. “We have … encountered each other one or two times before. At the palace. During official functions.” When Londo continued to stare at her without full recognition, she added, “My mother was the lady Celes … my father, Lord Antono Refa.”

  The identification hit Londo like a hammer blow. Lord Refa, his one-time ally, whose political machinations had been instrumental in costing Londo everything he had held dear.

  Whereas Londo had made many ill-considered decisions that had set him on a path toward darkness, Refa had dashed headlong down that same path, reveling in the lies, duplicities , and betrayals that were a part of power brokering and advancement in the great Centauri Republic. He had been a strategist and manipulator of the old school, well versed in the ways of deceit that had made the old Republic such a morass of power-hungry bastards. And he had been directly responsible for the deaths of several of those close to Londo. Londo had gained a revenge of sorts, arranging for Refa to meet a brutal and violent death at the hands of enraged Narns.

  It had only been later that Londo had come to realize just how much both he and Refa had been used by the Shadows. Granted, Refa had been overzealous in embracing the power when it was presented him, but Londo had also held Refa accountable for acts that had not been his responsibility. Every so often Londo would envision what it must have been like for Refa, to die beneath the fists and bludgeons of the Narns. He had taken such pleasure in it at the time. Now the recollection only filled him with disgust and self-loathing.

  Looking upon the face of the young girl, however, Londo for the first time-actually felt guilty.

  Then something about the girl’s phrasing caught Londo’s attention. “Your mother `was’ the Lady Celes? Then she is-?”

  “Dead,” the girl said tonelessly. If there was any capacity for mourning within her, it had either been burned away or buried so deeply that it could not harm her. “She was one of the first to die in the bombing.”

  “I … am sorry for your loss,” Londo told her.

  Durla quickly added, “However, the emperor’s sympathy for your plight does not excuse your abominable assault on him.”

  “My assault? I hit him with a rock!” said the girl. “And what, pray tell, should excuse him for his crimes?”

  “My crimes.” Londo stifled a bitter laugh. “And what know you of my crimes, child?”

  “I know that the emperor is supposed to protect his people. You blamed the regent for bringing us to this state, but you were the one who left the regent in place. If you had been here, attending to your people, instead of wasting your time on some far-off space station, perhaps you would have been able to prevent this.

  “And where would you take us now?” she added, and she pointed at him with a quavering finger. “That whole speech about Centauri `standing proudly alone’? What sort of… of prideful stupidity is that? We were the injured party here! Instead we wind up having to pay reparations that will cripple our economy beyond endurance? We lick our wounds and sulk in the darkness? We should be demanding that the Alliance help us in any way they can!”

  “And what of Centauri pride?” asked Londo quietly. “What of that, hmm?”

  “To blazes with Centauri pride!” she said with fire. “What of Centauri blood? What of Centauri bodies piled high? I’ve seen crying infants, looking for nourishment by pulling at the breasts of their dead mothers. Have you? I have seen people, sightless, limbless, hopeless. Have you? You claimed you wanted to walk to the temple alone to symbolize something. What excrement! You didn’t want anyone around because you didn’t want to have to look into their accusing eyes and feel guilty on your coronation day. You didn’t want to have your personal triumph spoiled by seeing all those who suffered because of your stupidity. You didn’t want to have to look upon the bodies that you crawled over to get into power.”

  “Silence!” Durla fairly exploded. “Majesty, truly, this is too much! The insolence, the-“

  “Why do you rage, Durla?” Londo asked calmly. “She simply uses words now, not stones. It is a funny thing about words. They cannot harm you unless you allow them to … unlike rocks, which tend to act as they wish.” He paused, and then said quietly, “You are wrong, child. Wrong about a great many things … but right enough about a few. Which things you are right about, I think I shall keep to myself for the time being. Think of it as imperial privilege. You are quite brave, do you know that?”

  For a moment the girl seemed taken aback, and then she gathered herself. “I’m not brave. I’m just too tired and hungry and angry to care anymore.”

  “Perhaps they are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps bravery is simply apathy with delusions of grandeur.”

  “Then they are your delusions, Majesty,” she said with a slight bow that was clearly intended to be ironic rather than respectful. “I have no delusions left.”

  “Indeed. Then perhaps … we should attend to that.” Londo scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment, and then said to Durla, “See that these people-this family-is fed and clothed and found a decent shelter. Take money from my discretionary funds as needed. You,” and he pointed to the girl, “what is your name? I should recall it from our past encounters , but I regret I do not.”

  “Senna,” she said. She looked slightly suspicious and uncertain of what was about to happen. That pleased Londo. Considering that she had spoken with such conviction before, and considering that all of her conviction had been tied up with the utter certainty that Londo was a heartless bastard who cared nothing for his people, it pleased him to see her a bit confused.

  “Senna,” repeated Londo. “Senna … you are going to live at the palace. With me.”

  “Majesty!” cried a shocked Durla.

  Senna looked no less wary. “I’m not flattered. I have no interest in becoming an imperial concubine …”

  This drew a bitter laugh from Londo. “That is quite fortunate , for if that were your career goal, I could assure you that you would not have much opportunity to pursue it on Centauri Prime.”

  She shook her head in puzzlement. “Then what?”

  “You have a spirit to you, Senna,” said Londo. “A spirit that is symbolic, I think, of not only what the Centauri Republic was, but of what it could be again. A spirit that is … lacking, somewhat, I think, in the palace. Too many people with their own agendas hanging about, and I do not exclude myself. You shine with the youthful light of conviction, Senna. I would have that light shining in the palace. Light tends to chase away shadows. “

  “Majesty �
�” For a moment she seemed overwhelmed, and then her more customary attitude of defiance came back to her. “With all respect …”

  “You ricocheted a rock off my head, child. It’s a little late to speak of respect.”

  “Majesty … those are very pretty words. But I still do not … I don’t wish to be grateful to you.”

  “Nor would you have need to be. If you wish, think of it as simply something that I am doing in memory of your parents. Lord Refa was … an ally, for a time. I feel some degree of responsibility for his…”

  Death. For his death.

  "… . family,” he continued. “His family, of which you are the only surviving member, yes?” She nodded and he concluded , “So … there it is.”

  “There what is?”

  “Senna,” Londo said, his patience starting to erode ever so slightly, “I am offering you a home that is a considerable step up from the streets. You will have comfort, the best teachers available to complete your education, and you will want for nothing. In that way-“

  “You can purchase peace of mind?”

  Londo stared at her for a moment, and then turned to Durla and said, “Come. We are wasting our time here.”

  Durla appeared rather relieved at this decision. “Shall we punish her, Majesty? She did assault you.”

  “She has lost her parents, Durla. She has been punished enough.”

  “But “

  “Enough.” There was no mistaking the tone in his voice. A line had been drawn and Durla would cross it at his own peril. It was peril that Durla rather wisely chose not to face. Instead, he simply bowed his head in acknowledgement and acquiescence.

  And so they returned to the palace, for what Londo was convinced would be his last night alive.

  - chapter 3 -

  Londo sat in the throne room, staring out at the rain.

  It had begun within minutes after his arrival back at the palace. It had been accompanied by almost deafening blasts of thunder, lightning crackling overhead, and it seemed to Londo -who was feeling rather fanciful in what he believed to be his waning moments-that the very skies were weeping on behalf of Centauri Prime. Normally such heavy rains could be viewed as cleansing, but all Londo could envision were streams of red water washing away the blood of all those who had fallen in the bombings.

  He could not get the image of Senna from his mind. Such pain, such anger on her face … but there was something else, too. There had been several moments there when she had seemed as if she wanted to believe in Londo. To believe that he was capable of serving the people, of operating on not only her behalf, but the behalf of everyone on Centauri Prime. In a way, it was as if Londo had embodied the entire schism between himself and his people in this one girl.

  It was unfair, of course. Ridiculous, even absurd. As a symbol she represented nothing, as an individual, she meant even less. But there was something about her nevertheless. It was as if…

  Londo remembered when he had first met G’ Kar. Even before that time, Londo had dreamt of his own death, had envisioned a Narn with his hands around his throat, squeezing the life from him. When he’d actually encountered G’Kar, he had recognized him instantly, had known that this was someone who was going to factor into his future in a most significant way. Most significant, indeed.

  The feeling had not been quite as distinct when he’d met Senna, of course. For one thing, he had encountered her before, in passing. For another, she had never featured into a dream. Not yet, at least. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel that she was … important in some manner. That what happened to her was going to matter, to the Centauri people … and to him.

  Then again, what did anything matter to him?

  He had been drinking rather heavily that evening, as if steeling himself for what he had resolved to do. Originally he had thought that what he would have to do is slay the keeper and then-very quickly-himself, before the action of murdering the small monster could bring the the Drakh down upon him. But he had noticed that, in raising his blood/alcohol level to a satisfyingly high degree, he seemed to be dulling the senses of the keeper. The creature’s presence no longer seemed so … tangible. The keeper was so intertwined with his own neural system that he thought he could actually sense the creature snoring, in his mind.

  The notion that he was capable of drinking his little companion under the table became a source of great amusement to him. It was also a relief to him. He wouldn’t have to contend with the keeper or whatever unknown resources it might possess, after all. By getting drunk, he was effectively taking the monster out of the picture.

  His blade hung comfortingly nearby. He still remained concerned about the proximity of guards, outside the doors. But he was simply going to have to take his chances. He had considered the notion of poisoning himself, but somehow that seemed inappropriate. Poison was the tool of the assassin . He should know, having planned enough assassinations in his time, including that of his predecessor, Emperor Cartagia. Besides, the keeper might actually be able to counteract poison, for all he knew. Now the blade-that was the classic, honorable means of dispatching oneself, going all the way back to the earliest days of the Republic.

  The early days.

  “I was born in the wrong century,” he murmured to himself . “To have lived then… to have known the Centauri who built the Republic … what I would give to have had that opportunity . Perhaps they would have possessed the strength to face that which I am leaving behind. But I do not. All I have tasted in my life is failure, and I think it is time for me to get up from the dinner table and let others sit in my place.”

  “Majesty.”

  The voice came so utterly out of nowhere that Londo jumped somewhat. He felt the keeper stir in its drunken slumber, but without being roused from it.

  He didn’t bother to get up from his throne, but instead half turned to see a guard enter. Thunder rumbled again. It made a nicely dramatic underscoring to his entrance.

  “Forgive me disturbing your-” began the guard.

  “Yes, yes, get on with it,” Londo gestured impatiently. “What is it?”

  “There is someone here to see you.”

  “I left specific instructions that I am not to be disturbed.”

  “We know that, Majesty. But it is a young girl who stated that she was here at your direct invitation. Given that, we felt it wisest to check with you before throwing her back into-“

  Londo half rose from his chair and steadied himself on the armrest. “A young girl?”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Would her name be Senna?”

  The guard looked both surprised and a bit relieved, as if realizing that his decision to interrupt the emperor’s peaceful evening wasn’t going to rebound to his detriment.

  “Yes, Majesty, I believe it is.”

  “Bring her in.”

  The guard bowed briskly and left, only to return moments later with Senna. She was utterly waterlogged; Londo felt as if he had never seen anyone so wet. If she had had hair, it would have been plastered all over her face. As she walked in, she left a trail of water behind her, until she simply stood there with a large puddle forming at her feet. She was shivering , but trying not to show it.

  “Leave us,” Londo said.

  “Majesty” said the guard, “for the sake of your security…”

  “Security? Look at her,” said Londo. “Where do you think she is hiding weapons, eh?” It was a true enough observation. Her clothes were sodden and clinging to her. There was nowhere on her person that she could have been concealing a weapon of any size. “Perhaps she will strangle me with her bare hands, eh? And I, of course, would be incapable of defending myself in such a circumstance.”

  “I meant no offense, Majesty” the guard said. He appeared about to say something else, but then thought better of it, bowed once more, and quickly absented himself from the throne room.

  They remained in silence for a long moment, the only sound being the steady dripping of water from he
r clothes. Finally she sneezed. Londo put up a hand to hide a smile.

  “I wanted to know if your offer was still open,” she said after a time.

  “Indeed. And why is that?”

  “Because enfolded into that offer was shelter and aid for the family that helped me in my time of need. It would be … rude … of me to turn down aid on their behalf. Furthermore ,” and she cleared her throat, gathering confidence, “if I am here … then I can be a constant reminder to you of what needs to be done to help your people. It’s very easy to become isolated here in the palace. You can get so caught up in the gamesmanship and machinations required in maintaining power, that you too easily forget about those in whose behalf you are supposed to be using that power. But if I am here, my presence will remind you of that. You can never turn a blind eye to it, while I’m around.”

  “I see. So you wish to live here, not out of any desire for comfort and warmth for yourself, but because of the benefit that your being here will render to others.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I … suppose that is right.”

  “Did you have any shelter for this evening, I wonder? And do not lie to me,” he added sharply, his tone hardening. “You will find that I am a superb judge of such things. Lie to me at your peril.”

  She licked her lips and her shivering increased ever so slightly. “No,” she admitted. “The family who took me in threw me out. They were … they were angry that I had turned down your offer. They said it could have helped them. They said that in neglecting the needs of others, I was no different than you.”

  “Harsh words. To be no different than I - that is no way to live.”