But somewhere between Refa’s banishment and the present, events had slipped from the control of the Three Who Rule – Marrit, Urza and Londo. Marrit, still unmarried, was finding himself drawn increasingly under the influence of Lady Elrisia, who was enmeshed in some sort of deal with Londo’s wives Mariel and Daggair. Several powerful nobles had died mysteriously of natural causes. Marrit was growing more and more divorced from reality and a number of Turhan’s nephews and cousins were emerging from the woodwork and taking stronger rôles in Centauri power politics.
And then there were the Narns. The recent attack on the Narn-won colony at Ragesh 3 had sparked the whole business with them up again. No one seemed to have ordered this attack, and no one seemed to mind that the Centauri had been beaten away. That did not matter, and if the Narns did attack then, well… the Centauri had beaten them before… the Centauri would beat them again.
And while Centauri Prime was set to burst into flames, Emperor Marrit sat alone, captivated by the noble lady Elrisia, Urza Jaddo was preoccupied with personal matters, and Londo Mollari… had affairs of his own to deal with…
Londo hated poetry. He hated Minbari. He really hated Minbari poetry. The only reason he was sitting through a recital of Minbari keela poetry was for the simple reason that it was the one place where none of his wives would be found. (Timov had no patience for this sort of thing, Mariel was too busy scheming and not even Daggair could find anything nice to say about the stuff.) Oh yes, Londo was here for another reason as well. The poet.
He’d never met Shaal Lennier before, but the personal, coded message he’d received the day before alerted him to the fact that coming here would be a good idea. There will be nine shadows over Lis House tomorrow. Londo hated codes, and he thought he’d given up this tedious plotting business years ago, but the word ‘shadow’ meant that he could not. This was important. This was connected to G’Kar.
Many times when performing duties for G’Kar, Londo wondered why he was doing this. If he were caught, then he would be in very big trouble. Political scheming was one thing – betraying highly confidential secrets and altering official government policy on the say-so of a Narn would lead to nothing less than his immediate and very painful execution.
But whenever he asked himself why, he remembered the big ship, the one that screamed in his mind, the one that had nearly killed him, the one that he dreamed about every night of his life, flying over Centauri Prime. And he remembered G’Kar, the Narn who had saved him, the Narn who had attacked his ship in the first place. The two had been trapped alone on a barren world, both their ships destroyed. At first G’Kar had been spitting words of hatred, and Londo had been afraid, remembering the vision of his death and recognising G’Kar from it. But then they had seen the ship, and G’Kar had sworn in the name of G’Quan. He had sat down, and he had spoken to Londo, he had spoken of an Ancient Enemy and a dead world called Z’ha’dum, he had spoken of the Book of G’Quan and of a darkness sweeping over the land. Londo had, more out of fear than interest, listened to G’Kar and he had slowly understood, caught up in the Narn’s fear and determination. The two had parted as each was rescued by his own people, but as the war ended, Londo began tracking the Narn’s movements, more out of interest than revenge. And when a Minbari had come to his quarters in the middle of the night and spoken about G’Kar and asked for a favour, Londo had listened, and agreed.
Now he was a part of G’Kar’s little conspiracy. Londo was not sure that he believed in the Ancient Enemy or in Narn prophecy, but he remembered that ship, and his dreams, and his death vision. Perhaps he could prevent that death vision – of him and G’Kar strangling each other on the steps of the Imperial Throne – by working with G’Kar. Perhaps, but he didn’t know.
And so he was waiting here, listening to poetry he could barely stand, drinking lukewarm brivare and looking at the poet’s small brooch, fashioned in the shape of a circle of light, with a black sword in the centre. Londo wore a similar design – a clasp at the neck of his jacket. Thus did the followers of G’Kar know each other.
The poem finished, for which Londo was eternally grateful, and several Centauri went up to congratulate Shaal Lennier. Minbari things were becoming fashionable in the Imperial Court these days – Minbari fashions, Minbari customs and especially Minbari poetry. Londo overheard several Centauri ladies propose assignations to the poet which would make anyone else blush profusely and back away. The poet merely smiled and nodded.
Afterwards, Londo made a personal request for Shaal Lennier to entertain him and his wives in private. Lennier had considered the matter and agreed, out of a desire for politeness and improving relations, of course. Londo felt a brief surge of glee at forcing Timov, Mariel and Daggair to sit through some of this appalling rubbish. Besides, it would at least set their minds working as to what he was up to, and they were bound to look in the wrong direction. And so, Shaal Lennier had accepted a journey to Minister Londo Mollari’s personal palace for a private audience.
No sooner were they in Londo’s personal transport – designed for status, show, soundproofing and not at all for little things like comfort or speed – than Londo spoke up.
“Well, then? What news from G’Kar?”
“None recently, I am afraid,” Lennier replied, after a slow and steady look around. “I do have news from Ambassador Refa, however, or more correctly news from his aide.”
“Mr. Cotto, yes. I have had some dealings with him.”
“Ambassador Refa is apparently going on a mission to the humans’ power centre at Proxima Three. A mission of… diplomacy… to discuss the human / Centauri alliance.”
“What?!” Londo bellowed. He then stopped and looked around. Of course, there were no windows, and the transport was completely soundproof. Not even the driver could hear them, but still… when he continued, he kept his voice down. “That was my treaty. I arranged everything at G’Kar’s behest. And now you are telling me that that… that… imbecile is on a diplomatic mission. How… no, do not tell me. Lord Jarno. He would arrange everything for his good and dear friend, Refa – to whom he owes a substantial fortune in gambling debts. And Lord Jarno’s beloved wife – I thank the Great Maker that it was Lord Jarno who married her and not me – is a close friend of our dear Lady Elrisia – the only lady on the planet who is even worse – and who has her claws wrapped around our little Emperor. Yes, I see where this has gone. Thank you for this information. Things are slipping away from me too fast here. I think a word with my good friend Urza might be in order. Is that all you have to tell me, or should I just hack my head off now?”
“No, there is more, but…” Lennier seemed distracted. “Is that smell common to this mode of transport?”
“What smell? I smell nothing unusual.”
“It is a gas,” he said. “In the paromide range, I believe. I can only just smell it.”
Londo’s eyes widened. “What? Paromide garadine. Oh, Great Maker.” He banged on the commpanel. “Driver, stop now!” There was no reply. “Driver! Oh, Great Maker, why hast thou abandoned me?”
“It is poisonous?”
“Very.” Londo began battering at the doors but they refused to open. “Fortunately I provided an escape route,” he muttered. Fumbling beneath his chair with his left hand, his right arm covering his mouth and nose, he pulled a lever and the top of the transport opened. Scrambling up on to the chair, he hauled his way up. The transport was not going very fast, but it was still fast enough to provide some serious injuries if he jumped off.
Lennier also scrambled out from the top of the transport. “We can escape from here?”
“Oh well,” Londo muttered. “I wasn’t using all my limbs anyway.”
He jumped off and closed his eyes. The impact with the ground, when it came, was less jarring than he had been expecting, but his leg twisted badly as he landed, and he was reduced to leaning against the side of a tree. Whose idea was it to build his palace so far out in the country? Oh yes, his. Lennier landed fi
ne, without any discomfort at all.
Londo muttered something under his breath about Minbari as he watched the transport fade away into the night. That transport had cost him a fortune, and he doubted he’d see it again.
“The driver has been suborned, it seems.”
“Something like that. Paromide garadine gas. Odourless, tasteless and a slow acting poison. And very expensive, too. I sense the hand of my dear Lady Elrisia in all this. I think that word with Urza had better come soon. The sooner the better. This has gone far enough, I think.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
“Ah!” Londo swore. “I will have to call Timov for transportation to my house. Bah! She will love this.”
“Your wife?”
“One of them. Take my advice, and never get married. No good will ever come of it, you’ll see. Bah! Why did I ever get involved in this whole thing? I should have become an insurance salesman.”
“I am sorry? What is… insurance?”
“Never mind. You really do not want to know. Really, you do not.”
* * * * * * *
Susan Ivanova had always found the fine art of diplomacy an annoying irritation at best, but she had learned to live with it, diplomacy having become a vital part of her new life. She found she infinitely preferred working behind the scenes to out in the open however, which was why she was not present at Lord Refa’s little meeting with Captain Sheridan and the Resistance Government, and why she was instead making for the quarters of an old friend.
Marcus was with her, as always. It was possible to get around his almost constant surveillance of her, but she had been doing that a lot lately and he was growing suspicious. Besides, when he wasn’t watching her, she couldn’t be watching him either.
But when she received a linked message she realised that she would have to act sooner than she had anticipated. Marcus was more than just charming company at the moment, he was turning into a real threat. She had things to do, and he was standing in her way. She hadn’t planned on doing this for a while yet, but she’d learned to seize an opportunity when she was given it.
For the best part of a year that Minbari whore had been standing in her way. It wasn’t enough that she’d destroyed Susan’s planet, killed her brother and her father, and all her hopes for the future. No, it was because of her that Susan was forced into going against Captain Sheridan. She liked Sheridan, she admired him. In a very strange way he reminded her of her father. And she had grown to like Sheridan’s wife, Anna. She’d first made contact with Anna as part of a short-term scheme for Anna to kill Delenn and be rid of an obstacle with no blood on her own hands, but in the process of doing so, she had come to like her, and to share in her hopes and dreams. She hoped that Sheridan would come to his senses one day and get back with Anna. She pondered the possibility and had actually managed to entwine that hope into her plans.
And then there was Marcus. She had seen him around before, always following Captain Sheridan, but then the good captain had assigned him permanently to her side. Ostensibly Marcus was her diplomatic aide and bodyguard. In reality, he was a spy, but given that she knew this – a handy, almost invisible tracking and listening device she’d implanted inside Sheridan ensured she knew almost everything that was going on, or at least she had until it had stopped working a few months ago – he only discovered what she was too lazy to prevent him discovering.
But he was still an irritant, so why hadn’t she got rid of him? She was surprised by the depth of her feelings for him. Her first efforts at seduction had been little more than attempts to get him on her side. She had not expected to find such innocence, however, and she had certainly not expected to find such emotion in him. He… intrigued her, but he also reminded her a little of the way her brother Ganya had been before Psi Corps took their mother.
The Shadows didn’t like this, of course. They were all for killing him, but she had resisted, and as everything was going along the lines of their plan, then what did it matter?
And now she’d been given a window of opportunity. Not a very large one, and there were a few things she had to do first, but… if she timed this right, she could kill Delenn, make certain that any sympathy Delenn might hold amongst the people on board the Babylon was destroyed for good, and try and get Anna and John back together.
A simple enough trick, but first she had to get rid of Marcus.
“I thought you were going to see a friend,” he said, evidently noticing their detour. “This is the way to the Detention Centre.”
“I am,” she said. “I just need to talk to someone there first. Mr. Welles has been talking about added security for me, or something, and he wanted me to go and discuss the matter with him. It won’t take long.”
“And the message you got over the link?” The one she’d made damned sure he hadn’t heard, despite his efforts to do so.
“That was from Mr. Welles, letting me know where I could find him.”
“Ah.” He didn’t believe her, but she didn’t mind. Oh Marcus, you’ll understand in time. It’s all her fault. That Minbari…
Morishi was on the desk as he usually was and he let her past without questioning. Susan Ivanova was one of the few people with free run of the entire Main Dome. It was wonderful what a Vice President with a Keeper would do.
Susan absently reached out and took Marcus’ hand in hers. He started, but did not move his hand away. She smiled. She wondered if Captain Sheridan suspected she would have this result. Well, to be sure, there wasn’t really anyone else Sheridan could send here. David? He was still too tongue-tied around her to do anything. Everyone on board the Babylon was too noticeably connected with Sheridan, and everyone knew it. No, Marcus was the ideal choice, but still… sometimes she wished her transmitter inside Sheridan was still working. He must have discovered it somehow, and had it removed, and he wasn’t letting her get close enough to plant another one. Oh well, such is life.
They reached the end of a corridor, where the security guard called Boggs was waiting. Susan smiled slightly. Evidently the source of her information had been taking steps to make this easier. She’d have to remember to thank him.
“So where is Mr. Welles, then?” Marcus asked.
“Right in there,” Susan said as Boggs opened the door. Marcus came to a halt, obviously suspecting something. Susan’s smile grew wider.
Boggs lunged forward and elbowed Marcus in the face. The spy tumbled, and Susan released his hand just as soon as she’d pulled his link from it. Marcus staggered back and raised an arm to block Boggs’ next attack. Marcus then lashed out two punches in quick succession, and the security guard had to fall back. Susan sighed melodramatically and waited for Marcus to step off balance. She then reached out and pushed him through the open door. He fell inside the cell and she pulled the door shut quickly.
Boggs was rising slowly, fingering his bloodied nose gingerly. “I told you to be careful,” Susan said. “Well, I would have told you to be careful.”
“Whatever,” Boggs muttered. “Just give me a few moments with him and I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing. If he gets even slightly scratched, I’ll have you reduced to waste disposal. Just keep him in there out of the way until I do what I’ve got to do. If he’s been hurt at all when I get back, you will be so dead you shouldn’t even have been born. Understand?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Good. Thank you.” Susan turned and left, her two Shadow companions by her side. They hadn’t shown themselves in the fight – they hadn’t needed to – but if it had been necessary, they would have done.
It is good to have friends, she thought, even if only for a little while.
And one of her friends needed her now.
Anna Sheridan looked ill. Not quite as bad as she had been before, but she still looked bad. Susan needed only one look at her friend to know that Anna hadn’t been sleeping much recently, and that she’d probably been drinking instead.
Anna had made a trip up to the Bab
ylon to see John a few days ago, but he’d been busy, apparently. Not too busy to be spending time with his favourite Minbari, however, but Anna had provided an inadvertent clue as to why this was the case. The word, ‘chrysalis’.
From her counterpart among the Minbari, Susan had learned all about the prophecies of Valen and she knew the significance of the word. Her mind had immediately started working, and she’d at last found a means to get rid of Delenn. All she needed was to get John out of the way, and now he was here on the planet, on a diplomatic mission with a Centauri noble, who was in fact, as Susan had been so handily informed, the ambassador to Minbar.
There were a number of things she could do with that information, but for the moment, she was quite happy to proceed with her original plan. Phase 1 was complete – getting rid of Marcus so that she could work in peace. Now it was time for Phase 2 – keeping Sheridan from getting involved.
“Um, hi,” Anna had said sheepishly as Susan arrived. She still looked a mess, although her quarters – hers and John’s quarters – were slightly neater than they had been the last time. The permanent aroma of Narn liquor had been replaced by the scent of orange blossom – a smell that Susan gathered had special significance for John and Anna.
“I’ve been… trying to keep the place tidy,” Anna muttered. “I don’t have much to do these days. I’ve been looking back and wondering where all the time went, and then I realised it all went down the bottom of a bottle. I…”
“Anna, I’ve got some news for you. John’s here, on the surface. He’s in some sort of diplomatic meeting at the moment, but he won’t be in there long.”
Anna looked up, and there was a brief ray of hope in her eyes. “You think… he’d see me?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”
The Other Half of my Soul addm-1 Page 25