by Peter David
"Mariel, I don't love you! Don't you see? I can't ever! Because any feelings you'd return for me were made for you by Galen!"
Her face flushed. "I don't know why you're saying these things. 1 know my mind! I know how I feel! No wizard put these thoughts into my head! You're just ... testing me, that's it. Testing me... wanting me to prove my love to you, to-"
"No! I don't! It's-"
Suddenly the door at the far end of the room slid open. The guards were standing there, with Senna in between them.
"The emperor will see you now," Senna said gravely.
"He is not supposed to be in here!" one of the guards said.
"I heard her cry out," Vir said immediately. "I was outside and when I heard her cry of alarm, I thought that perhaps one of those saboteurs or someone like that was attacking Durla's wife. So I thought I would check, because there were, after all, no guards outside," he added pointedly. He bowed to Mariel, and asked solicitously, "Will you be all right, milady?"
Mariel, looking at him with limpid eyes, whispered, "I will prove my love."
Vir felt ill.
EXCERPTED FROM
THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date)
December 25, 2277.
Vir looked ill.
At the very least, there were times when he had certainly looked better.
It is amusing the way things work out sometimes. There I was, speaking with Dunseny, saying to him, "You know what I desire more than anything? I would like to share a pleasant dinner with my old friend, Vir. Do you think that could be arranged?"
At that moment, in walked Senna with two guards. They stood stiffly at attention, as if they were awaiting orders. I had no idea what they wanted me to say. I looked to Dunseny, but he clearly had no better idea than I did. "Can I help you?" I inquired.
"We were told that you desired our presence, Highness," one of them said.
I didn't know what he was talking about. But I saw Senna standing behind them, nodding her head. Obviously this was some sort of childish prank and, to be honest, I thought it might prove amusing. I think I am someone very much in need of more childishness in my life. I found my head nodding in time to Senna's own. "Yes... yes," I said. "As a matter of fact, I would like you to bring me Vir Cotto."
The guards exchanged glances. "The ambassador to Babylon 5?"
"The very same," I said.
"I... believe I know where he can be found, Highness," Senna said. "He is actually here, in the palace."
I was astounded. Rarely do things work out for me as conveniently as that. "Escort him here at once!" I commanded the guards. As Senna led the apparently puzzled guards out, I turned to Dunseny, and said, "Have a meal prepared and brought up. Vir and I shall... chat..."
"At once, Highness," Dunseny said, and he went out to attend to my wishes.
The dinner was brought up mere moments before Vir arrived, escorted by Senna. "You will pardon me if I do not get up, Vir," I said. "My stamina is not quite what it used to be."
"Of course, of course," he said.
The food was laid out between us, and I gestured for everyone to leave us. Of course... I myself am never alone, but that is neither here nor there.
"So ... Vir. What has brought you around?" I proceeded to eat heartily, displaying an appetite that was merely for show.
"Do I need an excuse to visit my Homeworld?" he asked. He wasn't touching any of the food in front of him. Perhaps he thought it was poisoned. If it were poisoned, I probably would have eaten it myself.
"Of course not. Of course not."
And we proceeded to chat. The conversation was strained at first, but as the time passed, the degree of comfort grew. He seemed guarded, even suspicious, and who could blame him really? After all, once before when we were together, I knocked him out and he wound up in a cell. For all he knew, this would be a repeat performance.
Really, it was not an important conversation, when one gets right down to it. Indeed, my memory is playing tricks on me. Much of what we discussed is gone from my head already. The drink, no doubt. However, there was one aspect that he seemed to find most... interesting.
"There is a Human work of literature that I stumbled over, Vir, that reminded me a bit of you and I."
"And what would that be, Londo?"
"The work of one Miguel de Cervantes. A book called Don Quixote. I'm in the middle of reading it, but it seems most fascinating. It is about a man with a most odd hobby. Do you appreciate odd hobbies, Vir? You have one or two yourself, I think."
He sat there for a moment, his face impassive. "We all have our hobbies, Londo, and each of them might seem odd to someone who doesn't participate in it."
"Oh, absolutely. But this fellow, this Don Quixote... I thought you might appreciate his particular hobby. I don't know why I did. But I did."
"And what would that hobby be, Londo?"
"He fights evil." I leaned forward. "He fights evil wherever he sees it. He even fights evil when no others see it. Even though he believes the odds to be hopelessly against him, he charges into battle against the forces of darkness. Many people in the book think him insane."
"Do they." There was no inflection in his voice.
"Yes. They do. But there is a handful of others... who do not."
"And who would these be?"
"One of them is his faithful squire-that is to say, assistant-Sancho. Sancho helps the intrepid Quixote on his missions, no matter how far-fetched, because he wants to help Quixote recognize his dreams. To validate them. To fight... against the forces of darkness."
"Yes... you mentioned those," Vir said slowly. "I... think I understand."
"And that reminded me of you... and even us. I think that once upon a time, Vir... I was Quixote. I had dreams of greatness, of what the Centauri Republic should be. And you... you were my Sancho," and I laughed and shook a fist. "At my side, supporting me in my efforts while at the same time trying to get me to see the reality of what I was doing."
"And when Sancho tried to explain reality to Quixote... did he understand?"
"Not really," I admitted. "Interesting the parallels that can be drawn, eh? And now, you know... I think that the roles have turned. I think, in many ways, you are the new Quixote, yes? You see a world that you want to be better than it is, and you fight the good fight to make it that way. And that would make me Sancho... trying to assist you... to tell you what is what. To tell you when dark forces are encroaching, and when time is running out." ' "I think... in that respect... you would be an excellent Sancho."
"Good, good." I paused and took a deep breath. "Would you like to know... one of the ways in which the good Quixote fought evil?"
"Very much, yes."
I quaffed more of my drink, and said, "Windmills."
He looked at me oddly. "Windmills? What are windmills?"
"They were tall structures... very tall structures, and things were made inside them. Very tall structures... that seemed ordinary... but Quixote saw them as something else. He saw them as giants, and he attacked them. Charged at them with a long stick. It was called 'tilting.' He tilted at windmills."
"So he was insane, is what you are saying."
"Ahhh, but that is the test, Vir, you see. To look at tall buildings and say they are giants is, of course, insanity. But to look at towering structures and say they might be giants, why... that proves you a man of vision. A man who can see things when others do not, and act accordingly. That way... that way you can be prepared to do what must be done." I emptied my glass, poured myself another. "You might want to read the book, Vir. Reading is one of your hobbies, yes?"
"Yes. One of them."
"You should read it, then, definitely. Because it might have a very dramatic impact on your other hobbies... very soon."
- chapter 18 -
Their voices were echoing throughout the catacombs, and it took all Vir's lung power to shout them down.
They had gathered quick
ly at Vir's summons; indeed, they'd been prepared for it ever since Renegar had filtered the word out that Vir was coming to Centauri Prime. Even the techno-mages had managed to show up, although how they knew to come -and why they weren't spotted when they moved about on the surface of Centauri Prime -was pretty much anyone's guess.
"I don't understand any of it!" Renegar said in frustration. "Windmills and Coyote-" "Quixote."
"Whatever it is! How does this relate to-" "He was speaking to me in a code," Vir told them. "I'm positive." "What sort of code?" Adi asked suspiciously. "The kind of code that only two people who've known each other for years could get away with. He was being watched and couldn't say anything overt... but he was subtle enough that I got it."
"Or you were misreading it," Finian suggested. "You could have been hearing what you wanted to hear."
"No," Vir said fiercely. "I heard what he wanted me to hear, and he was doing it to help." He started ticking off points on his fingers. "He knows I'm involved with the Legions of Fire .. ." "The what?" they chorused.
"You guys. Never mind that now. He knows that I'm tied in with the saboteurs. He was trying to tell me that Durla is on the verge of making his move. That the Drakh are present in large numbers on Centauri Prime. That if we're going to do something about it, we're going to have to do it now."
"We don't know that for sure," one of the others said. "Perhaps the thing to do is wait, to-"
"No," Vir said, stunning the others into silence. "You didn't see what I saw. You didn't see the look in his eyes, the desperation. He wants this stopped as much as we do. He knows that this insane plan of Durla's, this scheming by the Drakh, is only going to end in tragedy for all. We have to strike openly, publicly, and with finality. We have to turn over the rock that the Drakh are hiding under. It's the only way!"
"Londo might have been setting us up . .." Renegar ventured. "If he's a tool of the Drakh, as you say.. ."
"Then why play games, huh? If he suspects that I'm involved with the underground, why not just tell the Drakh? Watch me disappear," and he snapped his fingers, "like that. You think the Drakh care whether I actually am a rebel or not? If Londo voices his suspicion to them, they'd obliterate me without giving it a second thought, just to play it safe. The fact that he hasn't... the fact that I'm still here, and not off in a dungeon being tortured or just being executed as a warning to others . . . that means something, I'm telling you! And the coded message he was sending me meant something, too! We have to stop them!"
"How?" That was, of course, the big question. It was Gwynn who had posed it.
Surprisingly, Vir had an answer.
"Now is the time," he said slowly, "to let everyone and everything know about the Drakh infestation on this world. Which means we reveal their headquarters. Londo has figured out where it is. I should have, too, to be honest. He kept talking about a tall structure that wasn't what it seemed..."
"The Tower of Power," Renegar said suddenly.
"Of course," Finian said, looking at Gwynn. "The structure with no windows. It makes sense."
"We've scanned it before, though, for signs of Shadow tech," Gwynn reminded him. "We came up with nothing."
"Probably because there was none when you first scanned it," Vir suggested. "Or so little that it was undetectable. No one could get inside, for a close scan, because the place is so closely guarded by the Prime Candidates."
"And it remains heavily guarded," Renegar pointed out. "If there are Drakh there ... and we are going to expose them ... how do you suggest we do it?"
"Simple," Vir said, with a surprisingly malicious smile. "We tilt."
- chapter 19 -
In his cell deep beneath the palace, his body aching with a world of pain, G'Kar heard something faintly that sounded a great deal like cheering. As near as he could tell, it was some type of a massive rally. He had heard sounds like that before, and assumed it to be some sort of religious meeting. They liked their religious meetings, the Centauri did. It was a way to bolster the spirit of a people whose main occupation seemed to be endeavoring to dash the spirits of others.
Still, every so often, whenever he heard such things, he wondered whether he was eventually going to be made the subject of one. He could see himself being pulled out on a cart or some-such, to their great temple, bound from head to toe, being pelted by overripe fruit along the way. Once at the temple he would doubtless be subjected to assorted torture devices, hoping to wring a scream from him, as Cartagia had, before he died a hideous death. Curiously, he was certain at this point that he wouldn't mind such a fate. At least he would know where he stood. As it was now, the daily beatings and torments were wearing quite thin on him. The novelty was wearing off on his captors, as well; despite everything they had done, they had not been able to elicit the slightest sound out of him.
He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
There was one thing he was at least grateful for: that John Sheridan had not done some damned fool thing, like sending someone to Centauri Prime in a vain effort to rescue him. Or even showing up himself. He knew Sheridan all too well, knew it was the kind of stunt he was likely to pull. But apparently he had not done so. He'd probably had the impulse, but cooler heads had prevailed. Thank G'Quan for that. The knowledge that Sheridan and Delenn were nowhere near this insanity brought him some measure of comfort.
In their cell beneath the palace, Sheridan and Delenn heard something faintly that sounded a great deal like cheering.
"Sounds like they're having a party up there," Sheridan commented. They were the first words he had spoken in some time.
"Do you think it involves us?" Delenn asked. She noticed some sort of vermin crawling around in the corner of the cell, and did her best to ignore it.
Sheridan noticed where she was looking. Without a thought, he walked over and stepped on it. "You mean do I think he's going to trot us out, his prize prisoners, and lord it over us? Is that what I think?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I think that's what he's going to do." Sheridan looked haggard, as did Delenn, and for good reason. Their captors had not been especially kind to them, depriving them of food and water, endeavoring to extract information about the Alliance's armed might. Neither of them had said anything to that point, and they had no intention of doing so.
Yet Delenn couldn't help but be apprehensive. The Centauri efforts at extracting information from them had, thus far, been fairly mild. She was sure they could do a lot worse, and she had said as much to Sheridan.
"My guess," he had replied, "is that their more 'efficient' methods wouldn't leave us in especially good shape. Perhaps not even very recognizable as ourselves. And they may want the option of maintaining at least a semblance of... I don't know ... mercy. Having a mindless shell of President Sheridan speaking out on their behalf isn't going to convince many people."
It seemed to make sense to her, but nevertheless she couldn't help but feel that something worse was going to be forthcoming. And when they heard the crowd noises outside, she began to wonder whether or not this might be it.
She said something softly, and Sheridan looked at her. "What? What did you say?"
"Nothing."
"Delenn." He sighed. "People don't mutter things under their breath because they don't want to be heard. They do it because they do want to be heard."
"You should not have come here," she said finally.
"What?"
"When that monster . .. Lione ... contacted us, told us that they had David . . . that we were to come here at once, directly, informing no one, or else they would kill him ... I should have come on my own."
"Don't be ridiculous," he said.
But she wouldn't be dismissed. "It is not ridiculous," she informed him. "I should have come here as an effort to try to convince them of the insanity of their actions. Try to reason with them. But you should have remained behind."
"Send my wife to do something that I'm afraid to do?" He shook his head fiercely. "Sorry, Delenn. Call
me old-fashioned, but it just doesn't work that way."
"Why?" she demanded, her ire rising. "Because you're a man? A Human male? How typical! You have to throw yourself into the heart of danger when every reasonable assessment of the situation says that you should stay behind. John, it was foolishness! You're the president of the Alliance, and you delivered yourself to our enemies! The Alliance needs you!"
"You're the one who should have stayed, Delenn! You could do the Alliance far more good than I could. I tried to talk you into staying behind-"
"I'm David's mother, in Valen's name!"
"Hah!" he said triumphantly. "Now who's being typically Human! And you don't even have as good an excuse as I do! We both know that, if it's the Alliance you're so concerned about, you were the logical one to stay behind."
"How can you say that?"
"Because you'd be around longer! I've only got a few more years left!"
And there it was.
Delenn suddenly felt the coldness in the cell more than she had before. She looked down and away from him, because she knew it to be true. He had acknowledged the terrible truth that had preyed upon her, and somehow made it all the worse.
"I'm sorry, Delenn," he said softly.
And she turned and thumped him on the chest. It didn't hurt, but it startled him. The fury exploded from her.
"You're sorry? You're sorry! Don't you understand anything, John? I know I should have remained behind! That I should have let you do this on your own! But I couldn't refuse to come and risk condemning our son to death, because he's the part of you that will live on! And I couldn't be separated from you because, with the dwindling years we have left to us, every day-every second-becomes infinitely precious. Whether we live or die, all that mattered to me was that we did it together! How utterly, utterly stupid and shortsighted was that?"