by Peter David
They were good people, I knew that. They deserved better than what was coming to them, better than what I had done to them. Then again … so did I. Except my living hell was of my own making, whereas their future living hell … was also of my making. Is there any more blackened and stained soul in existence than mine?
I could hardly get out any words. I managed to say, “Thank you … goodbye…” And then I was gone, my guards walking on either side of me, escorting me back to my ship. I thought I overheard Sheridan and Delenn discussing Lennier just before I was out of earshot, and I wished I could have heard more. He was a good lad, Lennier. I spent some time with him. In retrospect, he may be the only individual who ever spent extended time in my presence without becoming tainted in some manner. A good and pure soul is his. I envy him that.
Through the glass of my cruiser, I watched Minbar receding, and then, naturally, I heard an all-too-expected voice. The voice that said You
“You! You! What are you doing? “
Senna jumped back, completely startled, her hand jumping and knocking the book off the table. Londo had awoken, and he was looking up at her with pain-filled and bloodshot eyes that were seething with anger.
“What are you doing! How much did you read? What did you read! ?”
Senna’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. Londo was on his feet, and he had risen with such fury that he knocked aside the writing table, sending it crashing to the floor. He sounded more than just angry.
He sounded terrified.
“I … I …” Senna finally managed to get out.
Londo grabbed up the book, slammed it shut. “This was private! You had no right … no right!”
“I … I thought-“
“You didn’t think! Not for a minute! What did you read here! Tell me! I will know if you are lying, tell me!”
She remembered how just a short time before, she had been thinking how she had never been afraid of Londo. That sentiment was gone. She had never been more terrified, not just of Londo, but of anyone, as she was at that moment. “About … you and Sheridan and Delenn. You gave them the urn.
“And then?” He grabbed her by either shoulder, shook her, and there was such tumult in his eyes … she remembered being a very small child, looking to the skies as her father, Refa, held her tightly, and there were storm fronts rolling in. And those darksome clouds had been the single most frightening thing she had ever seen … until this moment, when she looked into the eyes of Londo Mollari.
“And then?!”
"And then you left, never to come back, and I’m leaving too, all right, all right?!” Senna cried. And she tore away from him, sobbing and choking so hard that she couldn’t even catch her breath. She thought she was going to be ill. She ran then, ran as fast and as hard as she could, ran from the room and almost crashed into Durla. His eyes widened as he took in Senna’s agitated state, and the condition of both the furniture and the emperor.
“It’s your fault, it’s all your fault!” she howled in his face. …
“Young lady…” Durla began, but he got no further as her hand flew, almost on its own accord, to smack against his face and leave a huge flaming red area the size of her palm on his cheek. Durla staggered from the pain of the impact, but Senna didn’t stay around to see the results of her action. Instead she ran down the hallway, her arms pumping, her breasts heaving.
In her room, she tore away the fine dress she was wearing. The cloth, the beautiful, gilt-edged, shimmering cloth made a most satisfying ripping sound as she shredded it. Naked, she yanked together some assorted articles of clothing, tossed them on in a hodgepodge manner, and threw a cloak around her shoulders.
She heard a crack of thunder from outside. The skies were opening up and rain was starting to hammer down. She didn’t care. She couldn’t stay in the palace a second longer, not when she knew what she knew. And as she ran out into the rain, she realized that the most frustrating thing was that she knew what she knew … was nothing. And it was the nothing that she feared more than anything.
- chapter 15 -
When Senna had not returned after a week, Londo summoned Lione. To Londo’s utter lack of surprise, Durla showed up with him. “I had some matters to discuss with you, Majesty” Durla said, “and since Chancellor Lione stated that you desired to-”
Londo was gazing out the window at the city. Without even bothering to turn around, he said to Lione, “I have a little task for your Prime Candidates, Chancellor.”
“They, and I, are at your service, Majesty,” Lione said, bowing slightly.
“Senna is out there somewhere. I want her found, and I want you to alert me as to where she is. I will handle matters from there.”
Lione and Durla exchanged glances, and then Durla cleared his throat and took a step forward. “Majesty” he said politely, “are you sure that would be for the best?”
“She is one young woman, Durla. If I cannot save one young woman,” and he gestured out at the city, “how can I save all of them?”
“That’s not quite what is at issue, Majesty. I was simply thinking that perhaps this is a matter that should not be pursued.”
“Indeed.” Londo’s voice was carefully neutral, his back still to them.
“Obviously, Majesty, the young woman is … how shall I put this? … an ingrate, Majesty. After all you have done for her, after all the time she has resided here … and this is how she treats your hospitality?”
Londo was silent for a time.
“Majesty?” Durla said carefully.
At that point, Londo turned to face them. His eyebrows were knitted in apparent surprise. “Chancellor… you are still here?”
“You have not dismissed me, Majesty” Lione said in confusion.
“I did not think it necessary. I have given you your orders … or,” and his voice took on a cutting edge, “were you operating under the assumption that I was coming to you as supplicant, putting in a request that you could attend to or disregard, at your discretion?”
“No, Majesty, it’s just that…”
“I have told you what to do. Your only response should be to bow, say, `Immediately, Majesty’ turn and leave. Apparently you did not comprehend that. So … we shall try it again. I will give the order. You will respond as expected. And if you do not do so … I will have you executed within the hour.” He smiled and spread his hands as if greeting an old friend. “That sounds fair, yes?”
Lione paled, and he visibly gulped. Durla looked in confusion from Londo back to Lione.
“I have a little task for your Prime Candidates, Chancellor,” said Londo, without waiting for Lione to reply. “Senna is out there somewhere. I want her found, and I want you to alert me as to where she is. I will handle matters from there.”
“Y-yes, Majesty.”
Londo fixed him with a deathly glare. “You were supposed to say, `Immediately, Majesty.’ “ Lione’s back stiffened so abruptly that there was an audible crack. Then Londo smiled wanly and said, “Close enough. Go to, eh?”
Chancellor Lione almost sprinted from the room, and Londo turned his gaze upon Durla. Londo’s eyes seemed almost hooded, as if a veil had been drawn over them. "Now … what business have you, Durla?”
“Majesty, perhaps the Senna matter should be examined in more de-“
“What. Business. Have. You.”
It was quite evident to Londo that Durla was wrestling with the notion of continuing the discussion … but then he very wisely reconsidered. Instead, he said, “You have inquired about the archaeological dig on K0643.”
“Yes. I have.”
Londo felt a slight stirring on his shoulder. And he knew why.
Several months previously, he had been examining various budget items, and he had come across Durla’s fringe world project. The reasons behind it completely eluded him. At that point, he had dictated a computer memo to himself to speak with Durla about it. Before he could follow through, however, the shadows had moved ever so slightly and Shiv’
kala had emerged from them. Londo had not known he was there, and by that point had given up trying to figure out whether the Drakh was simply omnipresent, or whether the keeper summoned him and somehow he managed to materialize on an as-needed basis.
“That is a worthy project,” Shiv’kala had told him. “I do not suggest you challenge it.”
“May I ask why?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause, and then Londo had said, “Very well: why?”
And Shiv’kala, naturally, had made no response, unless one counted melting back into the shadows as a response. Londo, feeling haggard and weary by that point, had simply signed off on the item, reasoning that any project that got the people of Centauri Prime interested and involved was worthwhile.
But now … now things felt different. It wasn’t that they necessarily were different. However, they felt that way. For ever since he had left that urn with Sheridan and Delenn, forever damning not only their unborn child, but himself, it was as if he had hit rock bottom.
After the explosive conflict with Senna, though, something within him had simply … snapped. It was like a mental bone had broken, and now it was beginning to reform, tougher and harder than ever. It was most unexpected to Londo, who had been so accustomed to despair that he had almost forgotten what a glimmer of hope could look like.
He still knew better than to go head-to-head with Shiv’kala, for that was certainly a lost cause. But he was beginning to reacquire a bit of his fighting spirit. Major acts of defiance, particularly face-to-face, might well be beyond his capabilities . But smaller such actions or inconveniences … what was the phrase? Nibbling to death by cats? Yes … that was it. What a marvelous turn of phrase those Humans had.
“Majesty,” Durla was saying, “what do you wish to know about the project?”
“I do not understand the reason for it,” Londo said. He felt the tingle of alertness on the part of the keeper, but he ignored it. “I wish you to explain it to me.”
“It is all in the original proposal, Majesty, which you appro-“
“The report is not here, Durla. You are here. I am here. We can speak to one another, yes?”
“Well … yes, of course, Majesty, but I…”
“So? Explain.”
Ohhhh, the keeper was not happy with the direction of the conversation. In a way, the keeper’s reaction was of morbid fascination to Londo, for Londo was curious as to whether or not Durla knew of the Drakh’s existence. His actions, his attitudes, had led Londo to wonder about it, but he could not be sure. So by pushing Durla, gently but firmly, Londo was taking a stab at answering the question for himself. If Shiv’kala or one of his associates made themselves known right then and there, that would certainly settle the question, wouldn’t it.
“Well … unemployment is obviously a serious problem for us, Majesty. A number of key businesses were destroyed during the bombing.” Durla shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “So my office felt that reclamation and exploratory projects might be of benefit in terms of building a sense of accomplishment and pride. The salaries paid to the excavators in the case of K0643 are minimal, but they have room and board, in addition to=”
“This world” Londo said, tapping some research he had done, “is reputed to be haunted, yes?”
Durla laughed scornfully at that. “Haunted, Majesty?”
“A place of lost souls. A world of darkness, tainted by evil. Have you heard these things?”
“Yes, Majesty,” Durla said, his lips thinned nearly to a sneer. “I have also heard tales of Rokbala, the evil soul-stealing monster who hides under beds and swipes the souls of naughty children. My older brother told me of him when I was three. It kept me awake at night at the time. Now, however , I sleep quite soundly.”
Londo nodded slightly in acknowledgement of the apparent childishness of the concern, but then continued. “Nevertheless … we certainly have projects that could employ willing members of our race in a fulfilling manner right here on Centauri Prime. K0643 is on the Rim, of all places.”
“Majesty” said Durla slowly, “we must look for that which no one else knows about. There are other worlds, worlds that the Alliance is not interested in. Remote worlds such as this one. We must mount archaeological investigations. We must dig. We must locate. While we do this, the Interstellar Alliance will laugh at us. They will sneer and say, `Look at the once-great Centauri Republic, rooting around on barren worlds and scraping about in the dirt like the basest of creatures.’ ” Durla’s voice hardened. “Let them say these things. Let them lull themselves into a false sense of security. It will not last, and they will see the error of their ways … but by then, it will be too late. We must look outside Centauri Prime, Majesty. There, and only there, will we find our true greatness.”
Slowly, Londo nodded. “That is a very impassioned speech, Minister.”
“Thank you, Majesty. I believe passionately in the things that I do.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Londo told him. “But I would be most curious to know … from where you got the idea.”
“From where? Majesty …” And he shrugged. “It just came to me.”
“Just … came to you.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
He felt an even more pronounced stirring on his shoulder that told him all he desired to know. “Very well, Durla. Since you have such passion for your work … who am I to gainsay you, eh?”
“Thank you, Majesty. And now, if you wouldn’t mind, there are some other-“
But Londo put a hand to his temple and sighed heavily. “In point of fact … I am a bit fatigued. Let us discuss other matters later, if that is acceptable to you, Durla.”
“I am but here to serve your wishes and the best interests of Centauri Prime,” he said graciously, and walked out rather quickly. Londo had the sneaking suspicion that he had been quite anxious to get out of the room.
He sat back and waited.
It didn’t take much time at all. He sensed Shiv’kala’s presence , and he turned to face the Drakh. Shiv’kala stared at him for a long moment, and then said quite softly, “What are you playing at, Centauri?”
Londo smiled, and said two words:
“Quack. Quack.”
Shiv’kala tilted his head slightly, looking at Londo -for once-with utter lack of comprehension. Then, to Londo’s delight, he simply glided back and away into the shadows without another word.
“Quack quack,” Londo said once more, this time with relish.
- chapter 16 -
It had not been one of Senna’s better weeks.
Although sections of the capital city had been rebuilt, there were entire areas that still were in desperate need of renovation and recovery. But the money had been slow in coming, for there were only so many directions that the government could go. By startling coincidence-or perhaps not so startling , in truth-it was the areas of the city inhabited by the poorer inhabitants of Centauri Prime that were getting the least attention.
And there were fewer sections, it seemed, that were getting less attention than the area known as Ghehana.
Ghehana had a reputation that long preceded it, as a place where one could live if one was in extreme financial difficulty . And if one was willing to do whatever it took in order to survive, then one could easily find a home there.
Even during the time that she was on her own, Senna had heard horror stories about Ghehana. It was where no decent person truly wished to go, and yet it was where an amazing number of people seemed to wind up. Senna had never thought that she herself would ever seek refuge there.
But it had been to Ghehana that she had fled. She had tried to remain in the central parts of the city, but those were for the well-to-do or, at the very least, for those who had money to spend and places to live. She had not wanted to be reduced to begging in the streets, but as it turned out, she hadn’t had the opportunity. Soldiers attached to the Office of Development had been instructed to make sure that no one was loitering
around because it was felt that seeing homeless or out-of- work people would only reduce the morale of those who really counted on Centauri Prime.
This was a city, a world, a race that was on the upswing. Prospects were bright. Employment was up. Destiny was manifest. Everyone knew that-sooner or later-there would be a reckoning between the great Centauri Republic and the supremely arrogant races who comprised the Alliance. Piddling , backward, nowhere species who once wouldn’t have been worth the Republic’s time to conquer. Oh, yes … the score would be evened, there was no doubt of that. To that end, however, work, dedication, progress, and a patriotic heart were the orders of the day.
Homeless beggars, on the other hand, were just too depressing for words. And so, every effort was made to shunt them elsewhere. Where they went did not matter, so long as they went there.
On one or two occasions, as soldiers sent Senna scuttling out of a doorway in which she had taken refuge, or away from a street corner that she was standing on for too long, a soldier would look at her with curiosity, as if he vaguely remembered her from somewhere. But Senna would quickly hustle along, and withdraw from their sight as quickly as possible.
So it was that she found herself in Ghehana.
The area frightened her. Even after two years, there were still piles of rubble in places where buildings had been. Worse, there were people actually living within the piles, having carved out spaces for themselves. The streets, rarely cleaned, were thick with dirt and grime. Isolated fires flickered in areas where people gathered to warm themselves.
Senna had managed to get a small amount of money to tide herself over by selling a few of the fineries that had belonged to her at the palace, objects that she had grabbed up at the last moment. She had used the money sparingly, managed to buy food with it, but she was running extremely low on funds, and the growling of her stomach made her realize that she was once again going to have to spend some of them.