by Peter David
was, even now, transmitting this rally on a narrow-cast beam into hyperspace. There, in front of all of Centauri Prime, Durla would give the codes that would signal the attack. Once and for all, the people would indisputably link with him the coming greatness that was the destiny of Centauri Prime. "For many years now, we have taken back what was ours, bit by bit," Vallko proclaimed. "We have done so through the sweat and endeavors of true Centauri." Again, for about the thirtieth time since he had begun his speech an hour ago, cheers and chants interrupted him. He allowed them to build and die down before continuing, "We have worked together ... we have fulfilled the desires of the Great Maker, and we have shaped the destiny that is, by rights, ours!" More cheers, more waiting. "Because our work is pure . . . because the Centauri way is the right way ... because we have resisted the impurities that otlu races would bring to us ... we have been lifted up, elevated to,, position that is unrivaled in our history!" Durla nodded, smiling, but feeling a bit impatient. As if sensing his thoughts, Vallko said, "I leave it now to your beloved prime minister, Durla, to bring you to the next step in our history. For remember that it is his visions of what we should be that have guided us to where we are.. . and what we will become." This was the loudest cheer of all, the welcoming cheer for Durla. At least, that was how he perceived it. He stood at the top of the great steps, his arms outstretched the way they had been when he had witnessed the ships departing for their glorious quest. The cheering washed over him like a physical wave. "My friends . . ." he began. He got no further. The massive explosion ripped through the air, startling and terrifying the entire crowd. Then another explosion, and a third, and everyone looked to the skies, screaming, convinced that death was being rained down upon them once again. It was Lione who saw it first. "The Tower!" he shrieked, and pointed. Sure enough, the Tower of Power was crumbling. Charges blasted up from beneath, enveloping it, the lack of windows causing the force of the explosion to be contained. Smoke blew out of newly formed cracks, rubble flew, and then the entire upper section began to tilt even as the lower half collapsed. "Impossible! Impossible!" Lione clearly couldn't believe what he was seeing. "There are guards ... no one could get close enough... no one-" Another explosion ripped straight up the middle, and the entire upper section was blown apart. Debris hurtled everywhere. People screamed, trying to run, unable to move because they were so packed in. Vallko's and Durla's cries for calm did nothing to stem the tide. Then the first of the bodies fell to the ground, having been hurled a great distance by the force of the blast. Impressively, it was mostly intact, but that lasted only until it landed on the temple stairs with a disgusting noise. At that point the body smashed apart like an overripe melon. But even in that condition, everyone could see that it was not a Centauri body. And more started to plummet from overhead, and they weren't even close to intact. Heads, arms, legs, torsos, all grey and scaly, cloaked in shreds of black cloth, spewing down from the skies as if a gigantic pustule had been popped. A hole gaped in the ceiling of the catacombs, exposing them to sunlight for the first time in their history. The area directly above had once been the foundation for the Tower of Power; now there was nothing but the tattered remains of the ground where Renegar's explosives had blasted apart the Tower from underneath. Renegar clambered down from the surface and turned to Vir as the others held their collective breath. "Well?" Vir demanded. "What's happening?" "It's raining Drakh," Renegar said. "Good." Vir turned to Adi. "All right, Adi. Time for phase two. Tap into the broadcast web. Now." What had seconds before been pure pandemonium had incredibly, eerily, fallen into silence, a silence that was even more deafening than the shouting had been. The Centauri were looking in wonder at the alien creatures who were suddenly in their midst, albeit in pieces. "Wha-what is . . ." Kuto, the minister of information, couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Lione turned to Durla, kicking aside the remains of the body
that had landed nearby. All the blood was draining from his face. "You. . . you said the upper portions of the tower were to be kept empty . .. for expansion ... no one was to go up there, not even me... Were these ... these . . ." "Quiet!" Durla said urgently. "I have to think... I..." That was when a gigantic hologram appeared before them, much like the one of Londo some fifteen years earlier, and Durla far more recently. But this was someone whom Durla had not remotely expected. Whom no one had expected. "Cotto," Durla snarled. "My fellow Centauri," the gigantic image of Vir boomed throughout the world. "I am Vir Cotto. I am the leader of a resistance movement called the Legions of Fire. We have known for some time that it is not the leaders-specifically, the prime minister-of Centauri Prime who have been shaping your destinies. It is these beings ... the Drakh. Servants of the Shadows. Monstrous beings." "This is broadcasting everywhere!" Durla practically howled at Kuto. "Shut it down! Find a way!" "The people of Centauri Prime have been used. Duped. The Drakh played upon our nationalistic feelings in order to use you-to use us-as cat's-paws to strike against the Alliance. An Alliance that goes against everything they want to see happen in known space. They are a disease that has been slowly rotting us ... and we did not even know that we were sick. But now you know. It has not been Centauri Prime for Centauri. It has not been the clear vision of a people, or even of the 'visionary' prime minister. He has been duped. You have all been duped. "And to all the member worlds of the Alliance, know that the aggression you have seen from Centauri Prime has been nothing but the cold, manipulating tactics of an evil race. We are as much victims as you. We are-" At that moment, the image of Vir Cotto blinked out. And then something monstrous came through the sky, something black and frightening, and-in the heads of everyone below-there seemed to be something akin to a scream as it flashed past. The ship drove straight toward the vast hole that had been created by the explosion. Then, from the vessel, a small army of Drakh descended, heading right for the now-exposed tunnels. The Drakh poured into the catacombs, weapons at the ready. And when they arrived, they found no one there. At least, no one at the point of entry. "Spread out!" the order came down, and the Drakh moved every which way through the catacombs, searching for Vir Cotto and the others, certain they were facing a small force of people who could quickly be obliterated. They were wrong. For suddenly, from every discernible direction, Centauri came charging forward. They were servants and soldiers attached to the Houses. They were scholars. They were poets. They were subversives, philosophers, writers. But under the direction, planning, and supervision of Vir Cotto, they were warriors all. Moreover, they were warriors who had thoroughly familiarized themselves with every twist and turn of the catacombs. The split troops of the Drakh were cut off from one another. In what could only be considered the height of irony, they were lost in the dark. And then there was much screaming. Amazingly, little of it involved Centauri voices.
chapter 21 Mariel watched in amazement from the balcony. She had heard the explosions, the same as everyone else. She gaped in astonishment, watched the Tower of Power disintegrate. She saw distant, non-Centauri bodies falling through the air in assorted bits and pieces. Something smacked against the wall just to her left. It was a single small piece of grey flesh. She stared at it in wonderment as it hung there. And then she heard the voice-that magnificent voice, that powerful voice-and the image, like a vision from the Great Maker himself. Vir-her Vir-speaking to the people of Centauri Prime, telling them what was happening, stepping forward into the position of leadership that she had always known he rightly deserved. Then she saw the dark ship descending, and terror descended upon her, as well. Instinctively she knew who and what they were, and what they intended for Vir. She saw them stream down into the blast point. There was no way to help Vir. Nothing she could do. Then she realized that there was. She ran quickly into her bedroom, closed the door behind her, dropped to her knees. "Please, Great Maker," she whispered, "I will give anything, do anything, sacrifice anything, but please let Vir be all right. Save him. And save Londo. I tried to do him ill and, in so doing, upset Vir, and I repent of tha t
. I repent of it all, please ..." That, and similar sentiments were all she voiced for some minutes, until she heard shouting from the main room. First and foremost came Durla's voice, and then she heard others, as well. She heard the voices of Castig Lione, and Kuto, and there was Vallko, and Munphis, the minister of education. They were all
talking at once, and it was difficult to make them out, until Durla shouted them down. "This cannot be!" he bellowed. "It is a trick! A hideous trick!" "You saw!" Lione shouted back. "We all saw! The Drakh. Great Maker, Durla, the Drakh!" "You will address me as prime minister!" "How can it be a trick?" It was Vallko, and he sounded like a broken man, someone whose faith had been shattered. "We saw. . . that ship, the Drakh, here in the heart of the city..." "A trick, I tell you, put together by Cotto!" "Prime Minister, it makes no sense!"That was Kuto speaking. "We saw them! We saw the Drakh attack! Drakh bodies falling from the Tower, Drakh warriors from the skies ... it's..." "Face it, Prime Minister ... you've been used. We all have," Lione said. Durla's voice was trembling with fury. "You will not stand there and tell me that my vision for Centauri Prime was something manufactured by an alien race!" "Great Maker take your visions!" Lione snapped. "I'm telling you, we've been used!" There were mutters of agreement. "I have trouble believing that you are my cabinet. My ministers, those I trusted." Durla's voice sounded like a mixture of disgust and sorrow. "That you would turn on me now, at our moment of greatest triumph..." "Triumph! A war on the entire Alliance that was planned by a race who were servants of the Shadows!" That was the normally reticent Munphis speaking up. "Who knows what their long-term plans are! It could very well be that they're looking to us to smash the Alliance for them . . . and they, in turn, will conquer us!" "We are Centauri Prime! We will never be conquered again! And I will not allow the trickery of the 'Legions of Fire,' and Cotto, and these imaginary Drakh to dissuade me from my course! I have planned this for far too long, done too much, to let it end here and now!" She heard footsteps then, quick movements. "Durla, what are you doing?" It was Vallko's voice. He sounded as if he was starting to come out of his shock. "This is my backup transmitter. We had to shut down the
world web to take Cotto's rants off-line, but this will still get me directly to the ships. The attack will go on as planned." "You're insane! We can't! We have to wait, to get this sorted out-" "That's what they want us to do, Lione! Wait! Because time is on the side of the Alliance! Cotto has convinced them, just as he has you, that we are the tools of a malevolent race! They will erect defenses against us! Be ready for us!" There was a tone of mounting desperation. "Besides, if the go-codes are not given within the next seventy-two hours, the fleet will stand down! They will think that something is wrong-" "Something is wrong!" Vallko was getting more strident. "It may well be that nothing is what it has seemed! I have spent years, Durla, telling the people that the future of the Centauri people is in our own hands. We have seen evidence today that that may not be the case!" "And how much of that did you know, eh?" Lione demanded. Their voices were moving around, making it clear that they were circling each other. "Why did you instruct that the upper floors of the Tower remain off limits? 'Reserved for future expansion.' You knew, didn't you. You knew that our symbol of destiny was... infested with those creatures!" "I knew no such thing! It was part of my vision, I tell you-" "A vision given you by the Drakh! Open your eyes and see the truth, Durla!" Lione shouted. "You've been used! Your power stems, not from any divine vision, but from notions planted in your skull by the Drakh! It's the only answer!" And suddenly there was a deathly quiet. When Durla spoke again, it was with a soft and frightening conviction. "There is," he said, "another answer." "Durla, put that down," Kuto said warningly, although Mariel had no idea what he was referring to. "And that answer is that you're all in league with Cotto. I should have seen it earlier. All of you, trying to tear me down Jealous of me. Planting those fake bodies, getting in league with those. . . 'Drakh'... to discredit me. Yes ... jealous of me. And traitors, all of you." As one, the ministers shouted out, and then Mariel heard the blasts. She clapped her hands to her ears, crying out, as the death screams and the sounds of weapon fire filled the air. It seemed to go on forever, although, in truth, it lasted only a few seconds. And then there was silence once more. Very tentatively, afraid of what she would see, Mariel opened the door. Durla was standing there, and contrary to what she had expected, he looked exceedingly calm. His hand was at his side, holding a plasma charge blaster. The floor was light red, thick with blood, and the bodies of the ministers were strewn about. Several of them had their eyes open, and they all seemed quite surprised, yet for all their astonishment they were no less dead. Slowly Durla turned and saw Mariel standing there. Without a word he raised his weapon and aimed it at her. "Do you," he said steadily, "stand against me, too?" She shook her head. He smiled. "That's good. That's very good, my love. I would have hated if you had." He looked around at the carnage with a sort of distant sadness. "I was afraid this would happen. That's why I sent the guards away. I had hoped it would turn out differently but... not everything can. They didn't understand. None of them did." She saw the transmitting equipment nearby. She stepped delicately over the fallen body of Lione, and said softly, "I understand. I didn't used to but. .. now I do." She was within six feet of him . .. five . .. walking slowly, almost slinking... "That's good. That's very good. Would you like to watch, Mariel?" "Watch?" She froze at four feet. "Watch me transmit the codes that will launch the attack." "Of course, my love." He turned back to the transmitter and began to manipulate the controls. Three feet. . . two... Suddenly he turned and aimed his weapon at her. "I don't believe you," he said, and fired. At point-blank range, he should not have missed. But Mariel twisted out of the way, the bolt barely grazing her hip, and then she was upon him. She grabbed at the gun with both hands, shoving it away from her, trying to shake it out of his hands, as Durla struggled against her. He shoved her away, tried to aim quickly, but slipped on the blood. Mariel leaped desperately,
landed full on top of him, momentarily knocking the wind out of him, and they rolled across the floor. The gun fired wide, ricocheting harmlessly off the wall. Durla managed to get to his feet, and Mariel clung on, like a spider holding on to a wind-tossed web. They were away from the blood, moving toward the balcony, and Mariel had a better grip on his gun hand this time. But Durla grabbed her trailing length of hair, twisting it around his free hand. She let out a howl of pain but did not let go. "Stupid cow!" he howled as they staggered about. "I remade the world for you!" "But I won't let you end it for me!" she cried out. Her strength, her resolve, momentarily lessened, and then she thought of every time he'd struck her, every time she'd submitted to his abuse, and a fire of fury boiled through her veins. Mariel pushed back, as hard as she could, one desperate shove. Durla's back hit the balcony railing, and he overbalanced, flipping over. An eight-story drop yawned beneath him. He let out a shriek of alarm, his fingers still firmly entangled in her hair. He dropped the gun and clawed at the air, and then he tumbled over the edge of the balcony. And Mariel, entangled in his grasp like some sort of perverse lovers' embrace, went with him. As she fell, she felt some small degree of pleasure that he was screaming and she was not. Londo. .. Vir... look! I'm flying at last was the final thought across her mind before the ground rushed up to meet them. EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) January 1,2278. "Shiv'kala. Not dead, I see? Pity." I have no idea what prompted me to sound quite as jovial as I did. It was probably the sight of the Tower of Power lying in ruin and rubble out in the town. Shiv'kala, for his part, seemed positively disconcerted. How long I had waited to see him that way. He was covering it as best as he could, to preserve what he fancied as his dignity and mysterious reserve. But we had been "together" too long. I could tell that he was trying not to panic, and only barely succeeding. He had appeared, as always, out of the shadows in my inner sanctum. I still did not know how he had gotten there and, frankly, had st
opped caring." No, Londo... still not dead," he whispered. "And not for want of trying by your.. .associates." "Are you implying that I had something to do with this?" I demanded. "How would you suggest I did that? Your little friend watches me at all times. If I were helping to run an underground rebellion, I think you would have known." He advanced on me, his red eyes burning into me. "You always keep certain thoughts buried just below the surface, Londo. The keeper senses it, even if he can do nothing about it. I suspect they may have to do with your 'associates'..." "Again that word. I am emperor. I work with any number of people. I remind you that your precious Durla is as much my associate as Vir." "Not anymore. Durla is dead." That brought me up short. "Dead?" I whispered. "When?" "Moments ago. After he annihilated his ministry. He fell to his death off a balcony, locked in combat with his wife." I had been standing, but suddenly the strength went from me. I sagged into a chair and for just a moment I had a mental picture of Mariel when I first saw her. Young and beautiful, and even though it was an arranged marriage and I wanted to hate her out-of-hand, I was transfixed by her comeliness. I could not have known the future, of course. Could not have known what she would become... or what I would become. And now... now... "fvlariel," I whispered. "She stopped Durla before he could issue the go-codes to launch the strike against the Alliance," Shiv'kalasaid, sounding rather bitter. "You must attend to it." It took me a moment to focus on what he was saying. "I must attend to ... what?" "You must order trie ships to launch against the Alliance worlds. The invasion can still go forward..." "Are you mad? Yes, I think you must be. Shiv'kala... it is over." I managed to stand, because for this I wanted to be on my feet. I wanted to be eye to eye with him, not backing down. "Your involvement with our affairs, your manipulation... it is all out in the open now. The people of Centauri Prime will never support-" "They will support what you tell them to support, Londo. With Durla gone, with the ministry gone, it is you to whom the people will turn. Rudderless, they will be looking for a captain to take control of the ship of state. You are the emperor. You are still sealed in their minds as the one who freed them from Cartagia, the one who subjugated the Narn, at least for a time. The people will follow you. The ships will attend to you. Even though you do not know the specific passwords and codes, the military will still respect your authority. You can order them to move and they will obey..." "And what of the revelation of the Drakh involvement?" I said bitterly. "How do I explain that, on a world of Centauri Prime for Centauri?" "We were your secret allies." "You controlled us! Controlled me!" "Lie, Mollari. It's what you're good at. Duplicity is the single most prevalent product that Centauri Prime exports. Say that you sought us out. Say that we offered our services. Say whatever you wish, but say something-" "You want me to say something? Very well. I will say something," and I advanced on him. "Leave my world. You have done enough damage." "Have we?" His eyes narrowed. "Have you forgotten the further damage we can do?" It was at that point that my instincts as a card player kicked in. Because I knew precisely what he was referring to. I knew he was speaking of the bombs that he and his people had claimed to have planted throughout Centauri Prime. Bombs that they had been holding over my head to keep me in line all these years. But I was certain at that point that Vir and his people had found them, defused them. He had been so thorough in so many other matters. Either that... or they had never existed in the first place. It was the latter that I was becoming more and more convinced of-for, as I said, my card-playing instincts told me Shiv'kala was bluffing. "You must realize," I said carefully, "that it is indeed over. That this cannot continue. You can flood me with pain until I cannot stand, you can isolate me so that I cannot speak. You can use me as your public face and puppet ruler, but really... what is to be accomplished by this? It will not even work on the surface, for if you subsume my mind, turn me into nothing more than a shell who is your mouthpiece. . .the people will know. "They know how I speak, how I carry myself. They will be alert to further Drakh manipulation. If I am not myself... either they will know, or at the very least they will be sufficiently suspicious that they will not heed me. "And then there is your own presence. Knowing that you are here, at the very least the Humans will come for you all. Even as we speak, they may well be assembling a fleet for an assault. After all, you did introduce a plague into their Home-world. The surviving Humans are not gently disposed toward you. And if you think that they will be worried about the prospect of some Centauri dying during an assault on a Drakh-held world, then you'd be well-advised to think again." He actually looked away. He was unable to hold my gaze. I sounded conciliatory-an impressive feat-as I said, "You have always struck me as a race who does what needs to be done, but no more. You are not bloodthirsty. You are not barbarians. You have a purpose to serve, and you serve it. Annihilating my people simply out of a fit of pique, in the face of a hopeless cause... it makes no sense. It goes against the grain of the Drakh." And he looked back at me with grim amusement in his eyes. "After all this time," he sighed, "how little you know us." It was at that horrific moment, a moment that will always be frozen in time for me, that I knew I had badly miscalculated. I was not even aware of the explosion when it actually occurred. All I knew was that one moment I was standing, and the next, I was on the floor. There was a ringing in my ears, and even though my eyes were wide open, all I saw was whiteness. I was flash-blinded. Then a wave of heat swept over me, blasting in through my balcony, and wind so furious that it knocked everything off my walls and pushed me halfway across the floor. I staggered to my feet, reaching out, trying to find something to hold on to so that I could get my bearings. A hand grasped mine. It was gray and scaly and cold to the touch, and I yanked it away quickly. I heard a low laugh, and I knew it was Shiv'kala's. "You... you bastards..." I whispered. My vision was starting to clear, and what I saw was beyond horrific. Fully half of