Out Of The Darkness

by Peter David

  Vir started toward Durla, and suddenly Senna knew beyond any question that if she did not do something, Vir would be upon him. There was no upside to such a confrontation. Durla had been a trained soldier. That had been some time ago, true, but the training remained. He might be a formidable foe. Bu t if Vir, car­ried by burning rage, did manage to overwhelm Durla and beat him senseless, as was undoubtedly his intent, then his pretenses would be forever shredded. Senna might wind up proving un­comfortably prescient in her concerns over Vir being imprisoned and drugged up, even before the night was over. Immediately Senna doubled over in "pain," crying out loudly enough to attract Vir's attention before he had managed to take more than a step or two. He looked at her, confused. "What's wrong?" "Some sort of... of sharp cramp. Please. Would you... be so kind as to help me to my room?" As this occurred, Mariel replaced the veil. Durla was looking at Senna with what seemed boundless compassion. "Attend to her, Vir. I have known her for quite a while, as well. I knew her back when we all called her Young Lady. Quite a woman she has grown into. Yes, attend to her, Vir, by all means. I have a dinner with my ministry to attend." "Perhaps . .." Vir had barely managed to gain control of himself, and when he spoke it was in a voice that was vaguely strangled. "Perhaps ... the lady Mariel should . .. should be resting... do you think?" "Oh, no," Durla said dismissively, "no, not at all. When one acquires a trophy such as the Lady Mariel, one is always eager to display her, even when she is feeling less than her best. And she is more than willing to accommodate my desires. Are you not, my love?" "As ... you say, my love," Mariel said, sounding like one al­ready dead. "There, you see? Enjoy the rest of your evening," Durla told them cheerfully. "And have a care with Senna, Ambassador... she is very precious to all of us." Senna was holding Vir's forearm in a grip of iron. She sur­prised herself; she had no idea she was that strong. But desperate moments tended to prompt acts of equally desperate strength. Durla headed off down the opulent corridor, the light seeming

  to dim as he passed. Mariel cast one more glance back at Vir and Senna, but the veil blocked any hint of her expression. Senna had a feeling that she could guess. "That... bastard!" Vir spat out. "How... how could he ..." "I'll tell you how," Senna said with confidence. "She is his one weakness." "His what?" "His weakness ... or at least she is seen as such. That's what I've heard from some of the chattier members of the Prime Can­didates. And apparently he wishes to send a message to any and all concerned that he has no weaknesses at all." "Naturally. Because if he'll treat someone he loves in that manner, then what mercy will he show for those he considers opponents?" "None." Vir was nodding in grim understanding. Clearly he wanted to say more, but he seemed to catch himself. That was probably wise. If there was one thing Senna had come to understand, it was that in many ways, the palace had ears everywhere. She didn't quite understand the how and why of it... but she defi­nitely knew the truth of it. "Should we tell the emperor?" she asked tentatively. "Londo?" Vir laughed in grim recollection. "He divorced her. She tried to kill him. He's not going to give a damn about what happens to her. He'd probably have a good laugh over it... and that's something I don't think I could stand to see. Better that we don't bring it up." He looked in the direction that Mariel had gone, and there was tragedy in his face. "I never thought he would... if I'd known, I'd never have-" "You'd never have what?" she asked with genuine curiosity. - "Nothing," he told her after a moment. "It doesn't matter." Privately she resolved to mention Mariel's "condition" to Londo in Vir's absence. Out loud, she said, "Vir-" "I said it doesn't matter. What's done is done, and can never be undone ... no matter how much we may wish it." He squeezed her hand gently, and said, "Let's go have dinner with Londo. It's best not to keep the emperor waiting any longer than we already have."

  chapter 7

  EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARl. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) September 23,2275. For the first time in a long time, I had fun today. I totally disrupted Durla's meeting... gave him a reminder of just who was in charge, for all the good that will do... and then had some excitement that resulted in a most unexpected reunion. I am worn out from it and won't go into detail. Tomorrow, maybe. Hopefully even my occasionally faulty memory will suffice to hold on to the recollection until the morrow. In case it is not... I shall jot down the phrase that will most stick in my mind, simply because Durla's expression was so priceless. The look on his face, as he spat words from his mouth that did not match the expression. "Emmmperor," he said, dragging out the first syllable as if it would go on forever. "How... pleasingly unexpected to see you..."

  'Emmmperor... how... pleasingly unexpected to see you..." Even as he spoke, Durla felt all the blood draining out of his face. He composed himself quickly, however, and rose. Seated around the table were Minister of Development Castig Lione, Minister of Information Kuto, and Minister of Spirituality Vallko. In addition, there was also General Rhys, next to whom Kuto- in his loud and amusingly self-deprecating manner-insisted that he sit. "Far easier than dieting," Kuto had chortled, slapping his more than ample belly. Not that Rhys was fat. But he was large enough and broad enough that he made Kuto look small in comparison, which naturally pleased Kuto no end. "I believe this is your first visit to the Tower of Power, if I'm not mistaken," Durla continued. "Welcome, welcome. Minister Lione has been kind enough to arrange for these particular fa­cilities to be used for ministry meetings. Hopefully you will find them up to your standards." Rhys was at the far head of the table, and he was already standing and offering his chair to the emperor. Londo, with the omnipresent Dunseny at his side, nodded in acknowledgment of the gesture and took the preferred seat. He glanced around the table, bobbed his head in greeting once more, and then sat there with a slightly vacant smile. "Highness?" Durla said. Londo still didn't respond until Dunseny nudged him slightly, then he seemed to come to himself. "Yes. Good to see me. And it is good to be seen. I felt that I had not been doing that sufficiently of late." He leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial voice, "I raised quite a fuss on my way over, you know. People in the street pointed, whispered among themselves. 'Is that he?' they asked. 'is that the emperor? I thought he was dead!' " Londo laughed at

  that rather heartily, until the laughter suddenly turned to a vio­lent, racking cough. It took a full thirty seconds for it to subside, and during that time the ministers looked uncomfortably around the table at one another. Finally Londo managed to compose himself. Dunseny solici­tously dabbed at the edges of the emperor's mouth with a cloth. Durla found it difficult to believe that the old retainer was still at Londo's side. Dunseny had managed to outlive every mem­ber of the House Mollari who had been there when he started with the family. He seemed thinner, greyer, but otherwise no less efficient in his duties and attentions. For a time Throk had re­placed Dunseny, as a means of keeping a perpetual closer eye on Londo, but Throk had come to a bad end. At that point, Londo had firmly reinstated Dunseny, and Durla had decided to let the matter go rather than press it. Somehow it didn't seem worth the aggravation. "My apologies, Ministers. Old age is not exactly a blessing." "Then again, it's preferable to the alternative, Highness, Kuto said in his booming voice. Londo shot a glance at him. "Is it?" he asked. There didn't seem to be any ready response for this, and Kuto didn't try to make one. Londo's gaze focused on Lione. "Minister ... where did you acquire that scar on your throat?" Lione automatically reached up to touch it, but caught self. Without looking at Durla, he said, "A mishap, Emperor Nothing more." "Yes. Most unfortunate. I hear tell from Dunseny that there seems to be a virtual epidemic of clumsiness going on in the palace these days. Your wife, I hear tell, suffered such a seizure," Londo said, swiveling his gaze to Durla. "Odd. When I was mar­ried to her, she was the most graceful and coordinated of all the women whom I called wife. Curious that she would become so accident-prone. Perhaps the process of aging has been no kinder to her than to me, eh?" There was something in his look that Durla definitely did not like. So he cleared his throat a bit more loudly than was needed, and sa
id, "Highness... you still have not graced us with the pur­pose for your visit..." "The purpose. Ah, yes. It is my understanding, Durla, that this meeting was being held to discuss the current state of readiness for the Centaurum's reclamation of our great and illustrious heritage-presumably, over the dead bodies of those who would stand in our way." "May 1 ask who told you that, Highness?" "Certainly. General Rhys did." Duria, stunned, looked to the general. Rhys returned the look blandly. "His Highness asked," he said by way of explanation. "He is my emperor, the supreme ruler and commander of this world. If he asks me a question about the status of military readi- ness, naturally it is my obligation to respond truthfully." "Ah. Pardon my surprise, General... you had not informed me that the emperor had asked." "You did not ask, Minister." Durla cursed to himself. That was typical of Rhys. He was a brilliant tactician and an utterly fearless fleet commander. But had a streak of individuality that he flashed every so often, ap-parently for Durla's benefit. Technically, he had done nothing wrong. He was indeed obligated, through oath and historical tra-dition of his rank, to answer first and foremost to the emperor, with no obligation whatsoever to report those discussions to others. even the prime minister. If Durla made too m uch of an issue of his actions, it would reflect poorly on him. "Highness," Durla said carefully, "these are matters of an ex-tremely delicate and sensitive nature. In the future, I would ap-preciate if any inquiries you might wish to make on these subjects come through my office." "Are you endeavoring to dictate terms to me, Durla?" Londo asked. There was an undercurrent of danger in the tone that brought Durla up short. Suddenly he was beginning to regret that he had not taken steps to dispose of Londo ages ago. Granted, the mili­tary supported Durla. There was no question about that, and there was intense loyalty from those who remembered Durla from when he himself was part of the rank and file. They per­ceived him as one of their own. However, ranking and highly re­garded officers-such as Rhys-continued to show respect for the position of emperor. Not even aberrations such as Cartagia had diminished the military compulsion to stand behind who­ever held the highest rank in all of Centauri Prime. Durla had no desire to make Rhys and other higher-ranking officers, for whom Durla spoke, choose their allegiances. Because he had no real way of controlling how those choices would fall. So he put forward his most ready smile, and said reassuringly, "Of course not, Highness. You are Centauri Prime. I would no sooner dictate terms to you than tell the sun which way to rise." "Don't underestimate yourself, Prime Minister. I have little doubt that-if you thought you might succeed-you might easily decide that the sun should rise in the west so that you can sleep in." This drew mild laughter from the others. Durla nodded ami­ably at the small joke made at his expense. "We have quite a military industrial complex under way, Prime Minister," Londo continued. "Many papers are brought before me for my signature and seal. I have continued to sign off on them, as an indication of my support. For I believe, as do you-as do all of you-that Centauri Prime has a great des­tiny to pursue. Although I doubt I could put forth the matter so eloquently or enthusiastically as Minister Vallko." "I am honored and flattered that you would think so, High­ness," Vallko said. "I have always felt that our positions comple­mented each other. That you attended to the well-being of the bodies of our people... and I to their spirits." "Well said, Minister, well said," Londo said, thumping the table with unexpected vigor. "And since the bodies of my people are involved in the work that you are doing, I wish to know" where we stand." "It is somewhat... involved, Highness." "Then involve me." Durla started to offer another protest, but he saw the firm, un yielding look on the emperor's face and abruptly realized that-most unexpectedly-things had become uncertain. He had to remind himself that there was really no need to keep Londo Mol­lari out of the loop. It wasn't as if he could do anything to thwart their efforts. The people's taste for conquest had only been whetted by strikes Centauri Prime had made against worlds at the outer fringes of the damnable Alliance's influence. There was already momentum involved, and there was no way that anyone, even the emperor, could stem the tide. And, of course, he had no intention of doing so. Durla was quite certain of that. This was merely an exercise in face-saving, that was all. When Centauri Prime achieved its destiny of conquest, Mollari wanted to be able to bask in the reflected glory. Understandable. Who wouldn't want to? But the people would know the truth, and the military-despite Rhys' knee-jerk compulsion-likewise would know it was Durla's vision that fired the Centauri movement. In the long run, Mollari's en­deavors to attach himself to Durla's greatness would backfire. Durla was sure of that. He would be revealed for the posturing poseur that he was. In the meantime, why risk alienating allies such as Rhys and those he represented just because he-Durla-was able to see through the emperor's pathetic maneuvering? "Very well," Durla said simply. And so he proceeded to lay out, in detail, all the up-to-date particulars of Centauri Prime's military buildup. All the out­posts, operating under varying degrees of secrecy, that were assembling the Centauri fleet that would sweep out among the Alliance worlds and spread the ultimate dominance of the Centaurum. "So we are not rushing into this," Londo said slowly, once Durla was finished providing the specifics. "Absolutely not, Emperor. The initial strikes that we have made served a twofold purpose. First, we were testing the will of the Alliance members, and frankly, we are less than impressed, They have grown complacent in their prosperity and their sense of peace. To them, our attack on Narn was an aberration, a dis-tant memory at best. We have managed, through a carefully or-chestrated campaign of publicity and information, planned by Minister Lione and well executed by Minister Kuto ..." and he gestured toward the pair, who nodded gratefully, "to associate those days-in the minds of the Alliance-with the reign of the mad emperor Cartagia. You, Highness, are seen as a very dif­ferent animal." "Certainly a less rabid one, I would hope," Londo said with a hint of irony. "So 1 am perceived as a comparatively benign, harmless ruler. An interesting epitaph, I suppose. 'Here lies Londo Mollari: a harmless enough fellow.' " This drew a laugh from Kuto, who promptly silenced himself when he noticed that no one else was joining in.

  Picking up after the momentary quiet, Durla continued, "We have further managed to pave the way, through backroom deal­ings, for key representatives of key governments to be ... accommodating ... to our attacks on assorted worlds. Further­more, in launching the assaults, we have been testing the versa­tility and effectiveness of the vessels that we have assembled thus far. We are pleased to report that the tests of these proto­types have met with overwhelming success." "Excellent." Londo nodded. Dunseny's head was likewise bobbing in agreement. "There were a few places where ship performance could be improved." General Rhys spoke up. "Questions of maneuver­ability, and proper distribution of energy resources in weaponry. Problems that made no difference against small worlds that are relatively helpless ... but could loom large when it comes to battles against the more powerful members of the Interstellar Alliance." "We are attending to that, Highness," Lione quickly assured him. "I have scientists, technicians, going over all the specifics cited by the general and his board of advisers. Nothing is being left to chance." "I have found, Minister, that 'chance' usually has its own feel-ings as to just what is being left to it, and has a habit of insert-ing itself into matters at its whim." Londo scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And it will come to a direct challenge to the Alliance, yes? I understand the reasons for concentrating on smaller worlds ... but I cannot say I embrace it enthusiastically. It seems ... beneath us, no? Considering what it is we wish to accomplish." "The hard fact, Highness, is that the Alliance's attacks and strictures reduced us, militarily and technically, to a state of in-fancy," Durla said. Rhys looked as if he was bristling slightly, but he said nothing. Durla continued, "To that end, we must re-learn how to walk before we can run. There is really no choice in the matter." "But it is merely a temporary condition, Highness." Vallko spoke up. "Nothing is more firmly written in the book of fate than that the great Centauri Republic will hold the stars in its JF palm."
The words, to Durla's surprise, seemed to jolt Londo slightly. "Is there a problem, Highness?" "No. No problem," Londo assured him quickly. "Just... a re­minder ... of an image I saw a long time ago. A vision... of just that. I think perhaps, Vallko, you are indeed correct." "Of course he is correct, Highness," Durla said flatly. "Our timetable calls for, at most, another two years before a full fleet has been assembled. A fleet that will more than satisfy all the re­quirements put forward by General Rhys and his advisers. A fleet that will cover the known galaxy as comprehensively as grains of sand cover a beach." His voice began to rise as he be­came more and more taken with the impending realization of his vision. "When the time is right, we will launch a multistage as­sault on the Homeworlds of many of the Alliance governments, taking the war to them directly." He saw heads bobbing around the table, and Londo's gaze was fixed upon him in fascination. "If we strike hard enough, we can immobilize them, and pave the way for full-scale assaults on their holdings that will leave them powerless against further Centauri aggression." "The only problem," Vallko said with a touch of caution, "re-mains Sheridan. This is a man who faced both Shadows and Vor-lons, and caused them to back down. There are some who say he is more than Human." "With all respect, Vallko, we are definitely more than Human," Durla reminded him. "That makes us more than a match." But Vallko's worries were not so easily dissuaded. "It is said he cannot die. Or that he is already dead." And from the end of the table came a whisper from Londo. " 'You must not kill the one who is already dead.' " Confused looks were exchanged around the table. "High­ness?" Dunseny prompted. Londo looked up at Dunseny and forced a smile. "Just... re­membering old voices, Dunseny. At my age, I am pleased I can remember anything. Then again, you are older than I am by far, and you never forget anything. Why is that?" "Because, Highness, at my age, there are fewer things worth remembering." The exchange drew an appreciative chuckle from the ministers.