by Peter David
would have liked you, I think. Because you're doing something about... about all of this." "You mentioned that before. I'm not entirely sure what you're talking ab-" Her gaze danced with amusement. "Don't try to lie to me, Vir. You're not very good at it." With a heavy sigh he sat next to her. "Actually ... I've not only gotten very good at it, I've gotten very very good at it. Which, on some level, kind of depresses me." He looked at her thoughtfully. "But not with you. You see right through me." "As does the emperor, I suspect," she told him, and when Vir blanched visibly, she went on. "I don't know for sure. We've never actually spoken of it in so many words. I don't think he'd dare, for some reason." "I can take a guess at the reason," Vir said darkly. She wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to press the matter. He seemed aware that he had said something better off not pursued, so he shifted gears. "I ... did have some suspicions. All those times you would contact me, send me those chatty messages about something or other that Londo had said... and invariably, it was information that was helpful to me in my ... endeavors. The thing is, I didn't know whether you were acting as Londo's mouthpiece, oblivious to what was going on, or whether you truly comprehended how the information you were passing along was being used." "I see." The edges of her mouth twitched. "So you're saying you couldn't decide whether or not I was a blind fool." "No! I... 1 wasn't saying that at all!" She laughed quite openly this time. "Don't worry about it, Vir. You have a lot on your mind, I'm sure." At that he just stared at her, and began smiling. "What?" she prompted. "I just..." He shook his head wonderingly. "You have a really lovely laugh. I never noticed that before about you." He seemed to shake off the digression and instead settled back down to business. "So all those messages you sent... they were actually at Londo's behest, because you felt you were aiding in the resistance movement." "Partly." "Partly?" "Well..." She shrugged. "The truth is ... I admire someone like you." "You do?" He was genuinely curious. "Who is he?" It took her a moment to understand his question, and then she laughed even more loudly. "You're so literal, Vir. Not really someone 'like' you. You. I liked communicating with you. I liked reminding you that I was around. Because what you do is so admirable. "There are those who have a vision for this world that will lead us down a fiery path to total destruction. They pursue that path out of self-aggrandizement and ego and obsession with power. You, and others, try to stop them out of a pure sense of altruism. You care so much about helping others that you would risk your lives in order to do it." "Not just risk lives," Vir said, glancing off toward the palace. From this distance, in the growing darkness, it was no longer possible to see the head that had been placed atop a pole. She understood. "He was one of yours, then." Vir nodded. "We have ... all of us ... certain 'safeguards.'A techno-mage aided us in conditioning our minds to resist truth drugs and such. But nothing is fail-safe. When I heard that Lanas had been taken, I immediately arranged a visit here, in hopes of being able to do something..." "That was foolish." He looked at her in surprise. "That... seems a bit harsh..." "Yes. It is. It's also reasonable. Showing up here, timed with the capture of one of your people .. . you're drawing undue attention to yourself. You haven't fooled me, Vir; you've 'created' a persona for yourself, of a tongue-tied, fumbling humbler-to convince others that you present no threat. You've done a superb job of acting." "It's been less acting than you would think," Vir mused ruefully. "Whatever the case ... the masquerade has garnered you a certain amount of latitude. Despite the timing of your arrival, many will be willing to write it off as coincidence. You wouldn't exactly be the person they consider most likely to oversee an attempt to halt our world's military buildup. "But all you need is for one person-the wrong person- to make the connection, and the next thing you know, you're
the one whose resistance to truth drugs is being tested." She frowned. "You have to think of more than just yourself, Vir People are counting on you. All of them," and with one sweeping gesture she took in the entirety of the city, "are counting on you, even though they don't know it. The emperor, though he can't say it, is counting on you." She hesitated a moment, and then added, "And I'm counting on you." Vir looked at her wonderingly. He had seen her on any number of occasions, they had spent time together. . . but it was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. "I... won't let you down," he said, and his voice was hoarse. Senna had used her attractiveness, her vivaciousness, all as ploys to get people to talk to her. She had been particularly successful with the Prime Candidates, who vied for her attention because she was perceived as a potentially valuable acquisition. Indeed, the late and unlamentedThrok had gone so far as to push for a marriage, a move that had been blocked by the emperor and was eventually rendered moot by... "You were the one," she said suddenly. "The one who blew up the Prime Candidates' safe house. The one who killed Throk." He looked away. The move spoke volumes. She said nothing more for a time, and then she reached over and rested a hand atop his. "It must have been very difficult for you, Vir." "It wasn't me," he said tonelessly. "It was someone... I don't know." "But I thought..." "We're in a war, Senna. We all become people we don't know ... and wouldn't want to know ... and in times of peace, people we would very much like to forget. I want to forget the person who killed him.. . very much." She nodded, understanding, and then his hand twisted around and squeezed hers firmly. She interlaced her fingers with his, and she felt the strength in them, but also a faint trembling. Senna had no idea what prompted her to do it, but she leaned over, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. She had never before kissed anyone sincerely. Reflexively he tried to pull back, but then he settled into it, enjoying the moment, kissing her back hungrily. There was nothing sexual in the contact; the need was far deeper than that. When they parted, he looked at her in amazement. "I... shouldn't have done that..." he began to apologize. In case you didn't notice, Vir, I did it," she said softly. She even felt slightly embarrassed, although she knew she shouldn't. "At the very least, I initiated it." "But I'm... I'm old enough to be your... your..." "Lover?" She was startled at her own brazenness. She couldn't believe she'd said it. At the same time, she was glad she had. He looked at her for a long moment, and this time he was the one who initiated it. Her lips, her body, melted against his. When they parted, he took her chin in one hand and studied her with both tenderness and sadness. "Another time, perhaps," he said. "Another life. I can't obligate someone else to me when I'm traveling down a road so dark, I can't even guess at the end." "I could walk down that road at your side." "You need to keep your distance. Because the road tends to branch off... and if I walk out on one of those branches, and the branch gets cut off behind me... I can't take you down with me. I couldn't live with that knowledge... for whatever brief period of time I was allowed to live, that is." It was difficult for her to hear, but she knew he was right. Or, at the very least, she knew that what he was saying was right for him, and that nothing she could say or do would dissuade him. "Are you sure Londo knows? About me, I mean," Vir suddenly said, switching gears. "And he's told no one?" "If he had told someone ... anyone ... do you think you would still be at liberty?" she asked reasonably. "Probably not. I'd likely be up there with poor Rem. How many more, Senna? How many more good and brave men are going to die before this business is over?" "There's only so much you can do, Vir. You must do your best, whatever that may be, and pray to the Great Maker for strength in dealing with the rest." "I just wish I knew," Vir said grimly, "whose side the Great Maker is on. Durla and his allies believe just as fervently as I do that they are acting in the best interests of Centauri Prime. We can't both be right." "Perhaps," she said thoughtfully, leaning back, "you both are."
He looked at her in surprise. "How can we both be?" She seemed surprised that he had to ask. "Isn't it obvious?" "Not immediately, no." "You have a destiny, Vir. I can tell just by looking at you." "All creatures have a destiny," Vir said dismissively. "Yes, but you have a great one. It's plain to see. The people of this world are going to need you in ways that you cannot even begin to imagine. And p
erhaps the Great Maker desires the actions of Durla because he has plans for you. And those plans include your being forged into the man who will guide Centauri Prime to its future. But you can only become that man by battling the plans of a truly great enemy ... and Durla has been selected for that purpose." He stared at her. "You're saying that people are fighting, dying... that millions may be annihilated, if Durla has his way... all so that I can eventually pick up the pieces?" "That's one way of putting it." "It's not a good way, and I can't say I'm especially thrilled with the idea. It makes the Great Maker sound insane." "Why should he not be?" Senna challenged. "After all, he made us in his image ... and look at the terrible things we have done, as a race. Are we not insane?" "That," Vir said, "makes a horrifying amount of sense." They walked through the corridors of the palace, chatting agreeably about matters of little to no consequence. It was a rather pleasant change of pace from what they had been dealing with before. At one point, Vir made a joke that Senna found particularly amusing, so much so in fact that she was seized with laughter, then had to stop and compose herself. Vir stopped, too, grinning amiably, and Senna took his hand in hers. "Well, well! Looking quite friendly, are we?" Senna and Vir stopped and turned. She still held his hand. Durla was walking toward them with his customary swagger. Next to him was a woman that Senna could only assume to be Mariel. It wasn't possible to be sure, however, because she was wearing a veil. This was extremely odd: the only women who wore such things were the legendary telepaths who had once accompanied the emperor wherever he went. That, however, was a custom that had ended with the death of Emperor Turhan. Cartagia, proclaiming that he did not want women around who could peer effortlessly into his mind, had ordered them all killed. They were the first casualties of his bloody reign, and most certainly not the last. Despite the fact that she was veiled, Senna could sense Mariel's gaze upon her, boring right through her. She reflexively released her hold on Vir's hand, doing so almost guiltily. "I have known the lady Senna for quite some time," Vir said calmly ... almost too calmly. "She is much like a beloved niece to me." Senna nodded in confirmation. "Of course," Durla said with a polite smile. "Oh, and Senna, you of course remember Mariel. She is much like a beloved wife to me. Say hello, Mariel." "Hello." Her voice was so soft as to be almost inaudible. "Move aside your veil, dear. It is difficult for them to hear you." "I... do not wish. . ." "I did not ask you what your wish was in the matter," he reminded her in a voice so sharp that it made Senna jump. She looked to Vir, who somehow was maintaining a look of polite curiosity, but nothing more. "Move aside your veil so that you can greet our visitor properly." He looked at Vir apologetically. "She is being rude to you, perhaps out of some residual resentment over your losing her to me. But I do not tolerate rudeness. Do I, Mariel." It wasn't a question. "No, husband. You do not," she said. And she put a hand to her veil and moved it aside so that Senna and Vir could see her face. Senna gasped. She regretted doing so instantly, but it was an involuntary reflex, for Mariel's face was battered and bruised. Vir gripped Senna's upper arm, also by reflex. He was holding it so tight that it hurt. "What... happened?" Vir managed to get out. "She is very clumsy, our Mariel," Durla said in a voice dripping with solicitousness. "She tripped over her own words." It had the sound of a remark that Durla had been rehearsing, in preparation for a question that he was longing to answer with smug arrogance. "I must be more cautious in the future," Mariel admitted, and now she was looking to Vir. Her gaze flickered between Vir and Senna, and Senna saw in those eyes hurt that she could not even imagine.