by Peter David
He drew closer, closer, and Rem still wasn’t noticing him. Now Vir could clearly make out the look in Rem’s eyes, and it was a look that he found frightening. It was as if Lanas wasn’t even present in his own head. His eyes were wide but empty, as if his body were simply being worn like a cloak. His body was stock still, frozen, but poised, like a great animal preparing to pounce, or perhaps a trap waiting to spring shut.
And his throat …
Vir’s gaze was immediately drawn to Rem’s throat, because-insanely-it seemed to be moving all on its own. It was pulsing gently, rhythmically. Vir had no idea what could possibly be causing such a thing.
Sheridan was still a distance away, getting closer with every passing moment … but then again, so was Vir as he drew nearer to Rem.
It was when Vir was only a few feet away that Rem Lanas noticed him.
Vir had no idea if he had made some movement, done something that might have drawn Lanas’ attention to him. Maybe some sort of sixth sense that warned him of danger had come into play. Whatever it was, Lanas’ head snapped around and his wide, eerily vacant eyes focused on Vir. His throat seemed to pulse more violently.
Vir froze in his tracks. He had no idea what to do. And then, his mind racing desperately for some sort of strategy, he did the only thing he could think of. He threw back his hood, a grin splitting his face, and he cried out joyously, “Rem! Rem Lanas! I thought that was you! It’s me! Cotto! Vir Cotto! How are you!”
Lanas tilted his head slightly. He seemed to be having to make an effort to focus on Vir.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me!” Vir continued. “After all those crazy times we had together!” As he’d spoken, he’d drawn to within a couple of feet of Rem.
But Sheridan and the others were also drawing closer. Rem snapped his head back in the direction of Sheridan’s path, started to move toward him. Vir stepped around to intercept, and Lanas really, truly focused on Vir for the first time. Something terrifying entered those eyes, something dark and fearsome, and Vir could almost hear voices screaming in his head.
And the throat was no longer pulsing. It was … undulating.
There was something in it. Something moved up the throat, and Lanas began making a hacking, coughing noise in his larynx, his lips trembling as if he were about to vomit.
Acting completely on instinct, Vir lunged. Rem took a step back, tried to dodge around him, but his movements were slow and awkward, and Vir collided with him. They went down in a tumble of arms and legs, and Vir found himself positioned just behind Rem, Rem’s head pinned against the crook of his knee. Automatically, Vir reached around and grabbed Rem’s lower jaw, shoving it up while bracing Rem’s head against his own leg. Essentially, he had him in an utterly awkward but nevertheless effective headlock.
Rem struggled violently, the gagging continuing. No words were spoken, no one shouted for help. A group of people had assembled at the far end of the alley, but their backs were to Vir and Lanas. Instead they were watching Sheridan’s approach . One or two glanced in the direction of the struggling Centauri, but clearly decided it was some sort of personal issue that did not merit their involvement.
“Stop it! Stop it!” hissed Vir. Vir wasn’t one of the more physically aggressive types around. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a fight, and he had absolutely no combat technique, no confidence in his ability to handle himself in a battle. But he was being prompted by pure desperation , and from that was born the strength and determination he needed.
Then he saw something starting to protrude from between Rem’s lips.
It was all Vir could do not to cry out in terror. The thing was thin and black, like some sort of tentacle, and it was shoving its way through Rem’s mouth, trying to get free. The pulsating in Rem’s throat had ceased. Clearly this was the thing that was trying to get out of him. Vir was sweating profusely, trying not to panic as another tentacle managed to slide through, despite his best efforts. He yanked up as hard as he could, and Rem’s own teeth crunched through the tentacles, severing them. They fell to the ground, writhing about on their own for a moment before ceasing. But Rem’s head began to shake furiously, the thing inside now either in agony or just wildly determined to get out. Vir redoubled his efforts, but his fingers, thick with perspiration, began to slip.
Then Vir realized that Sheridan was still talking, but his voice was moving beyond them. He had passed by, and the entourage was following him. That realization, that momentary victory, caused him to relax his guard for just a second. It was enough. Lanas suddenly shoved backward, catching Vir on the side of the head. Vir fell back, his head ringing, and from his vantage point on the ground he saw Rem’s mouth open wide. Some sort of creature leapt out of it.
It was small and black as its tentacles had been, covered with a thick layer of fur. It had four more functioning legs in addition to the two that had been truncated, and the force of its ejection from Rem’s mouth caused it to smack against the far wall of the alley. It spun about a moment, orienting itself. It was no bigger than the palm of Vir’s hand.
It screamed in fury, though the sound wasn’t audible. Vir heard it in his head.
Vir, momentarily stunned by what he was seeing, lay helpless on the floor, and then he gasped as the thing scuttled at incredible speed across the way, straight toward his face. He had a brief glimpse of something sharp sticking out of the thing’s back and he realized that it was some sort of stinger. There was no time for him to get out of the way, no time to do anything except let out a truncated cry of fear.
And then the black boot came down. It smashed to the floor of the alley mere inches from Vir’s face, crushing the creature under it effortlessly. Vir gasped in astonishment as the booted foot twisted back and forth in place for a moment, grinding the thing thoroughly into the ground. When it stepped back, there was nothing more than a black and red pulped mess.
- chapter 11 -
Vir looked up.
And he saw the individual that he had only thought he’d seen earlier. The man was dressed in grey robes, and although Vir couldn’t see his hooded face completely, what he did see looked quite young. He couldn’t have been more than thirty.
Rem lay on the ground, staring upward. The cloaked man stepped forward, crouched down over him and seemed to study him for a moment. Then he passed a hand over Rem’s face, and Rem closed his eyes. His chest began to rise and fall in a natural sleeping rhythm.
“He’ll be all right,” said the cloaked man. When he spoke, it was in a very soft voice, so soft that Vir had to strain to listen. “He’ll sleep it off for a time, and when he comes to, he’ll have no idea why he’s here. He’ll be of no harm to anyone.”
“What happened?” asked Vir, hauling himself to his feet. “Who are you?” Then he noticed the man was holding a staff The ends of the staff appeared to be glowing softly. In barely contained astonishment, Vir said, “Are you a … a techno-mage?” The notion was both fascinating and frightening. Vir had had dealings with the science-based sorcerers nearly four years earlier, and he had found it one of the most daunting experiences of his life. When the techno-mages had finally left on their journey beyond the Rim, purportedly never to be seen again, Vir had breathed a sigh of relief. Yet now, apparently , he owed his life to one.
“Yes … but a cloistered one. My kind don’t get out much. My name is Kane.”
“It is? Really?”
“No. Not really,” admitted the initiate. “It’s a chosen name. I’m not about to tell you my real name, of course. Names have power, and I’m not going to give you power over me of any sort. Rather a foolish notion, really.”
“That’s a good philosophy,” said Vir. “Thank you for squishing that … that…”
“Sleeper. Leftover biotech from the Shadows. Resided in your friend here,” and he tapped Rem’s body with the toe of his boot, “wiped his memory, and waited until it was ready to fulfill its mission.”
“To assassinate Sheridan.”
>
Kane nodded. “Yes. All Lanas had to do was get close enough, and the creature would have done the rest. It has quite a good jumping range. And once it landed on Sheridan, it would have stung him, and he would have been dead before they could get him to Medlab.”
“Just like Kran.”
“What?”
“Nothing. But why now? And why Lanas?”
“It wasn’t just now. There were times before. There will probably be other times, although death may take different forms. As for why Lanas,” and beneath his robes, Kane shrugged. “Luck of the draw. Purely random chance. They had to pick someone. They picked him.”
“They who?”
“That,” smiled Kane, “would be telling. You don’t need to know … yet”
“But-“
“Tell me,” Kane drew closer to him, studying him thoughtfully , “why you chose to handle this matter on your own, why you did not summon security.”
“I … I didn’t have enough to go on. Not for sure. I had guesses, hunches, that was all. Besides, the most upsetting thing was the thought of letting it get around that the Centauri were involved in an assassination attempt. Even if it turned out to be false, there would be inquiries, and interrogations, and word would leak to the other members of the Alliance. I didn’t want that. Centauri doesn’t need it. Things are bad enough as it is.”
“So you risked your own life, limb, and neck in order to try and head it off and protect the Centauri reputation.”
“I … guess so, yes,” Vir agreed. Then, worried, he added, “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I … I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things,” Vir admitted . “Starting with-“
But Kane held up a hand to quiet him. “No. Do not start. Because if you do, there will be many answers that I cannot give you. Not yet. But I will tell you this much, Vir … your actions have been quite impressive. I was observing you to see what you would do, and you do not disappoint. It very much seems as if the darkness has not reached you.”
“That’s good to know, that—” Vir paused, and then said, “The, uh … the darkness?”
Kane took a step toward him, and there was hardness in his eyes. “It stretches its coils from Centauri Prime to here. It lurks hereabouts, but it thrives on your Homeworld. Knowledge is power, Vir. I seek knowledge on behalf of the techno-mages, and they in turn seek knowledge from your world, for it is there that the dark power will continue to grow. You will have to make some rather severe choices soon. Very, very soon.”
“I … have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Good,” said Kane, apparently satisfied. “I was going for cryptic.”
“You succeeded.”
“That’s a relief. I am somewhat new at this, after all. Now I have to work on mysterious. Ah … your associate is stirring sooner than expected.”
Vir turned and glanced at Rem Lanas. Sure enough, he was sitting up, holding a hand against his head as if he had a seriously splitting headache. “What … happened?” he inquired.
“I’ll tell you in a moment,” Vir said, and looked back to Kane.
He was gone. There was no sign that he had ever been there, other than a crushed, red and pulped creature on the floor.
“He’s got the mysterious part down pretty well, too,” said Vir.
- chapter 12 -
Londo had known it was a test. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind at all.
“Sheridan is to die, you know,” the Drakh had said.
The comment had snapped Londo from his reverie. There, in his throne room-the place that was the symbol of his power and, for him, the further symbol of the sham that he was-he was startled as the now-familiar voice spoke from the shadows. What was truly chilling was that Londo had realized he was, in fact, aware that Shiv’kala was watching him. At least, he’d been aware on some sort of subconscious level. And it hadn’t even disturbed him.
The notion that he could actually get used to this half life he was living-even take it for granted-terrified Londo more than anything that had come before.
It had taken a few moments for the comment to sink in. “What?” Londo had said.
The Drakh had laid it all out for him. Told him the plan, told him about Rem Lanas. Told him about the creature that lived within Lanas. He had been picked at random, taken off the streets. It was the randomness that they had felt would be the greatest strength. Someone with no established grudge toward Sheridan, no particular hostility toward the Interstellar Alliance. Lanas was just a nobody. A nobody who wasn’t particularly strong willed, not particularly intelligent. All he was, in the final analysis, was useful.
When the Drakh had finally stopped speaking, Londo squinted in the darkness at him. Shiv’kala just stood there, unmoving, unblinking, that same, frightening little smile in place. “And you have told me this … why?”
“He was your friend. I wished to let you know of his impending fate … so that if you desired to say your goodbyes … you would have the opportunity.”
A test. No … not just a test.
A trap.
Londo had known it, had been positive of it. The Drakh could just as easily have said, “Sheridan is to die soon. Drop him a nice note,” and been done with it. No, he had told Londo everything there was to know because he wanted Londo to have that knowledge … in order to see what he would do with it.
Londo had not slept. For two days, he did not sleep. He had gone back and forth in his head, envisioning Sheridan as his great enemy, as the leader of an Alliance that had mercilessly assaulted his beloved Centauri Prime. Someone who had turned his back on them. And Delenn, his wife … she had a way of looking at Londo in the most insultingly pitying way.
But try as he might, he had not been able to erase from his memory all the times when Sheridan had been of service to him. Those years on Babylon 5 had been the best years of his life. He had not realized it at the time; it had merely seemed a period of slow, steady descent into darkness. But the fact was, Sheridan and Delenn had indeed been there for him on a number of occasions. Not only that, but he was positive that in their own way, they had been pulling for him, hoping that everything would turn out all right for him. The fact that everything had developed so abysmally-that he had become the single most powerful, and weakest, man in the Centauri Republic-was certainly not their doing, not at all. He had brought his fate solidly upon himself.
He had tried to sleep, but had managed only moments of rest, at most, before he would drift back to consciousness . During that time, he had felt the keeper shifting in mild confusion. Obviously the creature itself needed to rest as well, and had synchronized itself with Londo’s own sleep period . So when Londo became mentally distressed, the keeper likewise experienced discomfort. The thought gave Londo some degree of satisfaction.
Finally he had not been able to take it anymore. But he had known that he would have to be crafty. He could not simply mount an obvious rescue mission, or inform Sheridan. Such an effort would probably be prevented by the keeper. In the event that the keeper could not stop him, certainly it would inform the Drakh, who might in turn change their plan … and let their displeasure with Londo be known in a most direct and unpleasant manner. Londo desired to save Sheridan, but not at the price of his own skin. Londo was not that generous.
So he had summoned Vir. The timing had been perfect, for the celebration in the palace had actually been Durla’s idea. Durla had sponsored it, naturally, as a means of gathering all his allies and supporters and showing them his elevated position in the court. Since the idea had originated with Durla -Durla , the puppet of the Drakh who probably didn’t even know who truly pulled the strings- the Drakh in turn would not question it or suspect some sort of duplicity on Londo’s part. An invitation to Vir would be the most natural thing in the world.
So he had brought his old associate, his old friend-possibly his only friend in the galaxy, really-to visit. The inv
itation had attracted no attention whatsoever, as Londo had hoped.
Then had come the next step: Londo had started drinking almost as soon as the festivities had begun. The problem was, he had needed to walk a fine line. The challenge was to consume enough alcohol to render the keeper insensate, as he had found he was capable of doing. By accomplishing that, he would be able to speak to Vir more or less freely, without the keeper-and by extension, the Drakh -becoming aware of what he was doing. The problem was, if he imbibed too much, he would become so incoherently drunk that he wouldn’t be of any use to Vir, to Sheridan, or even to himself.
So Vir had come, as invited, and Londo had taken him aside, fighting to remain on his feet while the liquor swirled around his brain, leaving a pleasant fog hanging over him. But Londo had proceeded with caution nevertheless, and it had been most fortunate that he had. For as he had begun to bring Vir current with the situation, as he had begun to unfold the plan in small bits … he had felt the keeper stirring to wakefulness. He had sent the creature into inebriated insensibility , but it had fought itself back to moderate sobriety with a speed that was both alarming and annoying. Apparently it was starting to build up some degree of tolerance to alcohol. Londo would have to reassess the amount of liquor it was going to require from now on to render the keeper unawares.
Londo dealt with the setback as best he could. He had tried to cue Vir to the danger presented to Sheridan by seeking historical precedent. Londo could sense that the keeper was suspicious of the conversation. It sensed that something was going on, but it wasn’t entirely certain just what that might be. No pain was inflicted, no forcible commands were relayed into Londo’s skull. But the creature had been most wary indeed , and so Londo had needed to be wary as well.
It had been tremendously frustrating for him. Part of him had simply wanted to drop the carefully chosen phrases, the historical allusions, and simply tell Vir what was going on. But he knew there would be immediate action of some sort taken by the keeper. Who knew the full powers of the monstrosity perched upon his shoulders? He knew it inflicted pain, and that it monitored his actions, but he had no reason to believe he had seen the outer limit of its capabilities. Perhaps it could blow out his brain stem with but the merest mental effort . Maybe it could send him into seizures, or stop his hearts, or … anything.