1-The Long Night of Centauri Prime

by Peter David

  “You are Vir Cotto?” She repositioned herself, sweeping the blanket around her. Vir suddenly felt rather sweaty. He also felt some stray movement in the area of his chest and willed himself to calm down.

  “Yes. But … may I ask how … that is to say…”

  “Minister Durla felt that he might have offended you … and out of respect to your long history with the emperor, he asked me to make sure that there would be no hard feelings.”

  At the mention of Durla’s name, even the most preliminary stirrings of interest promptly evaporated. “Durla. I see. Well …” Vir cleared his throat forcibly. “Here’s a thought. I’ll turn around and avert my eyes, and you can go get dressed and tell him everything’s fine, and I appreciate the thought. All right?”

  Disappointment flickered across her face. “Are you sure?”

  “Miss … believe me when I tell you, decisions aren’t always my strongest thing. I kind of go back and forth. But about this, yes, I’m absolutely sure.” He turned his back to her and waited. He heard the rustling of the sheets as she slid out of bed, the whisper of cloth against her body as she dressed.

  Moments later her hand trailed across his back as she cooed, “Good night then, Ambassador.”

  “Good night,” Vir said in a strangled voice.

  He waited long moments after the door hissed closed before he dared to trust himself to turn around. Then he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was, indeed, gone.

  Durla. Durla had sent her. The very thought was horrifying . Furthermore, when he’d turned his back to her, he’d watched the shadow she cast quite carefully, to make sure she didn’t come at him with a knife while his back was turned. That, rather than generosity, would be much more in character with Durla’s way of doing things.

  “Now I remember why I don’t spend a lot of time on Centauri Prime. I hate it here “

  He made sure his door was locked and changed quickly for bed. But sleep did not come. Instead he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what Londo had said. It seemed so random, so confusing, as if Londo was unable to hold a coherent thought in his head.

  Who was Rem Lanas? And all that conversation about Emperor Kran? And …

  That riddle. About what was greater than the Great Maker? What did that riddle have anything to do with anything? The truth was, it seemed completely unrelated to anything that had gone on.

  What was greater than the Great Maker? The rest of the riddle made no sense, couldn’t progress any further, because the truth was that, quite simply, nothing was greater than the Great Maker. Oh, certainly it was impossible to understand why he had allowed the Republic to slip into such disarray, why he had stood silently by and allowed the bombings and …

  Suddenly Vir sat up, his eyes wide, and he felt a momentary sense of glee, almost childlike in its exuberance.

  “Nothing,” he said out loud. “The answer is nothing.”

  It made perfect sense. Nothing was more frightening than the Shadow ships … to that, Vir would personally attest. The poor have nothing. The rich need nothing. And if you eat nothing … then you die.

  A good riddle. A thought provoker.

  But then Vir thought of something else Londo had said. Something about…

  What had Londo’s exact words been?

  “Everything around here, all that we have rebuilt, all the power at my command … it makes me think of what I truly have. Not only that, but what we will all, within less than a week’s time, all have.” And he had referred to it as being part of the great riddle of life.

  Nothing. Londo was telling him that he felt he had nothing. As if he wanted to make sure Vir was aware that he was truly unhappy with his situation. But why? Why not just come out and say so? And why was he so unhappy anyway, if he was being given the opportunity to rebuild Centauri Prime in his own image. Where was the tragedy, the sadness in that?

  And … they would all have nothing? Within a week’s time?

  It made no sense.

  Or perhaps it did, and Vir was simply unwilling or unable to put it all together.

  The next morning he went straight to the throne room, but guards blocked the door. “I need to see the emperor,” he said. The guards simply stared at him as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “It’s urgent.”

  “I’m afraid that the emperor is seeing no one today.” The voice came from behind. It was Durla, strolling calmly down the corridor and looking so at home that it seemed to Vir as if Durla thought he owned the place.

  “And why is that?”

  Durla shrugged. “I do not question my emperor’s orders, Ambassador. I simply obey them. I would suggest that you do likewise.”

  “How do I know that those are his orders?” Vir demanded. “How do I know he’s even still alive?”

  Durla appeared startled at the very suggestion. “I am shocked that you would insinuate some sort of plot against the emperor, Ambassador. I assure you he’s in his throne room. He simply desires seclusion.”

  “Look,” Vir said hotly. “Unless I -“

  The door to the throne room suddenly opened.

  Vir turned and peered through and, sure enough, there was Londo on his throne. He sat there, resolutely, staring straight ahead, not so much as an inch of his body twitching or giving any indication that he was alive. And then, ever so slightly, Londo turned his head and looked in Vir’s direction. He nodded once as if to say, It’s all right. Go. Then he went back to staring aware Vir was still in the doorway.

  Vir stepped back and the doors closed. He turned to Durla, who simply smiled and said, “Have a safe journey back to Babylon 5. Do visit us again … very soon.” And with that he headed off down the corridor.

  The sleeper approached wakefulness. One of the dark ones was nearing. He sensed its approach and prepared to come to full consciousness. He had remained hidden in the darkness, waiting for his chance, preparing for the opportunity to serve the dark ones.

  It was a confusing time for him. He felt as if his mind were splitting in two, and yet merging for the first time. As if he were about to encounter a long-lost twin from whom he had been separated moments after being spit from his mother’s womb.

  He found himself staring at shadows for long periods of time. There was quite an abundance of them in Down Below. Each of them seemed to cloak its own mysterious secrets. Once, like most people, the sleeper had feared shadows. But now he found himself embracing them, feeling the coolness of them.

  Then the shadows began to call him … one in particular. He felt himself drawn to it, to one particular corner. There was no one else around. Step by unsteady step he drew closer and closer to it, sensing that for the first time, his life was going to make some degree of sense. Indeed, of late he had been filled with a curious emptiness.

  He remembered his parents, his mother holding him close, his father schooling him in his first lessons. He remembered them … but only as if from a distance, as if his mind embraced them, but they were absent from his heart.

  He remembered the first woman he had made love to, the press of her flesh against his, the warmth of her kiss. He remembered her… but he could not actually feel her. He knew that he had been intertwined with her, but could not feel the sensation of it.

  It was as if the entirety of his life had been some sort of video, observed but not actually experienced firsthand. He wondered if this was a commonplace feeling. If other people felt the same way about their memories.

  Meantime, deep within him, something not quite biological , not quite technical, stirred and moved in response to the summons from the shadowy area.

  He moved toward the corner, and there was something there … something grey, with a hand outstretched, summoning him …

  … no … not him … it…

  - chapter 8 -

  Zack Allan, the security head of Babylon 5, was staring at Vir, one brow arched, his piercing eyes filled with open curiosity. “Rem Lanas? You want to find out about a Rem Lanas?
”

  Vir, sitting in Zack’s office, kept his hands neatly folded in his lap.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Is he one of yours? I mean a Centauri?”

  “That’s right. Normally, we could find one of our own people, of course, but thanks to the bombings, our records are a mess. We think he’s here, but we’re not sure.”

  “Important in some way?”

  Vir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Is there any reason you’re asking me so many questions, Mr. Allan? Not that,” he added quickly, “I mind answering them. I don’t. I wouldn’t mind answering your questions all day. I really didn’t have anything else blocked out on my schedule. So if you want to keep-“

  Zack put up a hand to still the torrent of words spilling from Vir. “I just wanted to know,” Zack said slowly, “if he presents any sort of a security risk and if I should be worried.”

  “A security risk! Oh … oh, no. That’s funny.” Vir quickly laughed, a sort of high-pitched blurt. “That’s really funny. A Centauri, presenting a security risk. No,” he said, suddenly serious. “No, none of our people present any sort of a risk, security or otherwise. We, that is, I, wouldn’t want anyone to think that the Centauri in any way are threatening. Because, you know, as soon as that happens come the ships, and the booming, and the shooting, and, well … it’s a mess. We don’t want that. No one wants that. I know I don’t, you don’t…”

  “Rem Lanas.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t, either.”

  “I mean,” Zack said patiently, “who is he? Why do you need to find him?”

  “Well …” Vir harrumphed to buy himself a few seconds, and then said, “Money.”

  “Money? What about it?”

  “Rem Lanas has come into a sizeable amount of it. His inheritance, so his parents want to get in touch with him, let him know…”

  ” `Parents.’ You just said his father was dead:’

  “Yes, that’s … right. That is, his adoptive parents. His father gave him up for adoption when he was quite young, and when his father was dying, he felt so guilty that he left everything to his son. It’s a tragic story. Very unexpected death. His father was an opera singer, you see, and he was performing an outdoor concert, and his mouth was wide open as he was trying to jump an octave, and suddenly this low-flying bird-“

  “Okay, okay, okay,” said Zack quickly, clearly not wanting to hear the climax of the story. “Let me see if we’ve got any record of a Rem Lanas coming through here.”

  As Zack checked through the computers, Vir’s mind was racing. Lying simply was not his strong suit. He felt tremendously uncomfortable and very exposed whenever he was trying to do it. One would have thought that, working with Londo for as long as he had, he would have acquired a knack for it. The one thing he had going for him was that he tended to babble to the point where people would accept whatever he was saying, just to shut him up. With one lie, he was ineffective . With an avalanche of lies, he could squeak by.

  The thing was, he wasn’t sure who Rem Lanas was, or what significance he held. But out of nowhere, Londo had made mention of him.

  Vir remembered that day on Centauri Prime, that day when Londo had made his address to the Centauri people, an address that had reeked of anger and had seemed more an urging for revenge than reconciliation. When Sheridan, Delenn , and G’Kar had expressed their reservations about such a curious direction for his speech, Vir had loyally assured them that Londo must have had his reasons. He had believed it at the time, and he believed it still. Londo always had reasons for what he did. Some of them were truly horrific, but they were reasons nonetheless.

  So when Londo had spoken of this Rem Lanas fellow, Vir -after fighting through his initial confusion-had resolved that somehow, for some reason, Londo was trying to tell him something. For that reason, he had gone straight to Zack’s office as soon as he had returned to the station. He wasn’t sure why he was there, or what he was trying to find out, or what he would do with the knowledge once he did find it, but he couldn’t think that far down the line. He had to operate one step at a time.

  “Got him,” Zack said.

  Zack’s declaration brought Vir out of his reverie. “You do? Where?”

  “I don’t mean that we actually have him in custody … why? Should we?”

  Vir laughed nervously. “Of course not. Why would you?”

  “According to this,” continued Zack, looking over the records, “he arrived on the station about six months ago.” He paused, studied the computer screen for a few more moments , and then said, “This could be a problem.”

  “What? What’s a problem?”

  “Well,” said Zack, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “there’s no record of him leasing any rooms here. No job employment record. If I had to guess, he’s probably in Down Below.”

  “Down Below? Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure. For instance, if he’d somehow managed to sneak off the station without our knowing it, he’d be gone. Or he might have gotten a room or job using faked ID.”

  “But that doesn’t make a lot of sense. If he had fake ID, why would he use it for one thing, but not the other?” Vir said.

  Zack grinned. “Very good Mr. Cotto. You might have a future in the exciting field of security.”

  “Really? You think so? Or you are kidding?”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh.” Vir felt slightly crestfallen.

  “But you’re right. There’s no reason for him to come in under his real name and then fake his presence elsewhere. Which brings me back to my original guess: he’s Down Below. Residences down there are pretty much catch-as- catch-can; set up a tent and you’re a resident. Run money for one of the shady types down there, and you’re employed. Do you want me to send some people down to find him?”

  “No,” Vir said quickly. “I’ll handle it. I’m, well … I’m a friend of the family. I promised I’d do it. It’s kind of … an honor thing.”

  “Oh. An honor thing.”

  “That’s right. Well, thank you for all your help. If you could forward a copy of his photograph and records to my quarters, I’d be most appreciative.” Vir stood, pumped Zack’s hand with such ferocity that he threatened to snap it off at the wrist, and then left Zack’s office as fast as he could.

  When he got to his door, he stood there, slightly out of breath, composing his thoughts. His hearts were racing and he didn’t even fully grasp why that would be the case. All he knew was that he was beginning to sense that something was happening … something that Londo actually had the answers to. But Londo would not tell him more than he already had, would not give him anything more than dribs and drabs …

  Would not? Or … could not?

  Was it possible that Londo had simply told him as much as he could, somehow? Even that made no sense, though. There had been no one except Londo and himself there in the portrait gallery. Was Londo that concerned that he was being watched, listened to wherever he went in the palace? But they could have gone outside, then, or found a place-some place, any place-that could be shielded from prying eyes and ears. Londo would certainly have been clever enough to come up with somewhere that was secure.

  But … what if there was no place left that was secure?

  The notion was utterly horrifying to Vir. Could that be possible ? Could it be that someone was capable of monitoring Londo, no matter where he went? Perhaps they had managed to implant some sort of tracking or listening device upon him. But … why would he stand still for something like that? Why would he submit to it? He was the emperor. The emperor of the Centauri Republic! Much of the Republic might be in ruins, but it still was what it was. One had to respect the office , if not the man holding it.

  Then again, I assassinated Londo’s predecessor, so who am I to talk…

  If that were the case … if Londo was somehow wearing some sort of bugging device, or if-at the very least-there was someone whose presence was so pervasive
that even Londo was wary of it, then that was a situation that had to be addressed. But who could be responsible for such a state of affairs?

  Durla. That had to be the answer.

  Perhaps, Vir reasoned, Durla was blackmailing him somehow . Perhaps he had gotten his hands on some sort of dire truth about Londo, and was trading upon silence in exchange for power. And while he was at it, he was keeping Londo on a tight leash …

  It made Vir wonder-what could Durla possibly know that would cause Londo to submit to that … that slimy little man’s will, rather than allow it to be made public? After all, Londo’s greatest and most awful actions weren’t secrets, they were part of the résumé that had obtained him the rank of emperor in the first place. What could Londo possibly have done that would be considered so repellant?

  No matter what it was, the whole business made Vir extremely edgy. It made him wonder just how paranoid he himself was becoming, and how paranoid he should be. Durla definitely knew Vir’s background, and Vir had the uneasy feeling that he, too, might be targeted somehow. It depended, of course, on just how seriously Durla perceived him as a threat, and whether Vir stood in the way-intentionally or not-of whatever it was that Durla saw as his goal.

  Vir’s mind was spinning, and as he finally opened the door to enter his quarters, he jumped nearly a foot in the air when a voice said, “Hi there.”

  Vir sagged against the wall, clutching his major heart. “Mr. Garibaldi” he managed to gasp. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

  “When you’ve had a job like security chief,” Michael Garibaldi said, rising from the chair in which he had apparently made himself quite comfortable, “you pick up a few things. And you hang on to them, even when you move upstairs to become the head of security for the president of the Alliance. Speaking of which … he’d like to see you.”

  “He would?”