Babylon 5 13 - Legions Of Fire 01 - Long Night Of Centauri Prime (David, Peter)

by Long Night Of Centauri Prime (David, Peter)

  chapter 20 Kuto swayed into Durla's office with his customary wide gait. Durla stared at Kuto and wondered if it was possible for the man to get any fatter. As it was, Kuto's girth was so impressive that it was difficult for him to ease himself into a chair and, once he was there, disengaging himself from it became equally problematic. For all that, Kuto had a rather avuncular manner that made him quite pleasant to spend time with, and a boisterously loud attitude that was well suited to someone who was designated the minister of Information. "A moment of your time, Minister," he boomed to Durla, sliding into a seat before Durla could possibly have the opportunity to tell him to come back later. The chair creaked protestingly under his bulk, but Durla was used to that. "I assure you, it won't take long." "What is it, Kuto?" asked Durla, putting aside his work. "Well ... there has been a good deal of interest being expressed lately in relation to K0643. Since I oversee information , people tend to come to me about such matters, and I address their queries, particularly when public statements might become necessary. Plus, when the inquiries come from high places. . ." Durla put up his hands in the hope of getting Kuto to focus. The minister of Information had a habit of going off on annoying tangents. "Could you be just a bit more linear, Kuto. What inquiries? What high places? And why should a public 258 statement be necessary? K0643 is simply one of the assorted job works being overseen by this ministry. I don't see how the public need concern itself overmuch." "Well, I would have thought that to be so, Minister," said Kuto, scratching his copious chins. "The interest has been happening by degrees, however. First ... we've been getting quite a few inquiries from families of workers who went to the site ... those who disappeared and haven't been heard from again." "If workers get tired or bored or simply depart their posts, we can hardly be held responsible," Durla said impatiently. "A certain degree of attrition was anticipated." "Attrition is one thing, Minister. But outright disappearances ?" "If some are viewing this as an opportunity to begin a new life elsewhere, we cannot be held accountable for that, either. Is there anything else?" "I'm afraid so. You see, the emperor's wife has also been making inquiries. . ." "Timov?" Durla let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Why?" "I couldn't say. But she's been checking about, and has garnered some information-" "Why was anything told to her at all!" Durla demanded. "Because what she sought was not classified information," Kuto said reasonably. "Should anything have been kept from her?" "No. No, I suppose not." Durla leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling suddenly very, very tired. Thinking of the project made him think of Mariel. After all, it had been she who had come to him in the dream and urged him on. There had to be an answer to it all, of that he was quite certain. He had deliberately distanced himself, however, from Mariel's activities, and particularly those activities that were coordinated through the office of Chancellor Lione. He suspected that Lione was beginning to intuit something about Durla's feelings for her, and those feelings might be misinterpreted . If there was one thing that Durla did not want to allow, it was anything that might be seen as weakness. Still ... "Kuto," Durla said, leaning forward in a manner meant to suggest that great secrets were about to be imparted. Kuto tried to respond, but leaning forward wasn't his forte. So he stayed where he was. "I am a bit ... concerned about several individuals. Several people have attained important positions in a variety of ... projects. Since I have you here, I thought perhaps I might entrust you with their names, and that you might check into their current whereabouts for me. However ... it might be best if you did this without letting anyone know that the request came from me. And I would also prefer if you did not speak to Chancellor Lione about the matter." "Chancellor Lione?" Kuto raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason to doubt-" "No. Not at all. But ... this is my preference. I can trust you to honor it?" "Of course." Durla rattled off a half dozen names, the vast majority of whom he was picking at random off the top of his head. One of the names mentioned, however, was that of Mariel. Kuto didn't appear to react to her name any more than he did the others whom Durla mentioned. "And once I've found out what you wish to know?" "Then relay the results to me." Kuto nodded. "And what about Timov?" "She is becoming rather tiresome, that one," Durla admitted . "Still, as long as the emperor expresses no wish for her to leave, we must honor his desires in the matter. Mustn't we?" "And if his desires change?" "Why then," Durla said quietly, "so does her ... location." Kuto nodded, smiled, left Durla's office ... and went straight to Castig Lione to inform the chancellor that, yes indeed , his hunch had been right, and Durla had inquired about Lady Mariel. Wheels within wheels. And moving like a wraith, through the minds of each and every player, flowed Shiv'kala, smiling from the darkness of their innermost ambitions, and secure in the knowledge that the Drakh would ultimately benefit from all...

  chapter 21 When Vir came to, he felt a throbbing at the base of his skull, and when he tried to rub it he discovered that his hands were chained to the wall of the cell that he was occupying. He pulled at the manacles and had absolutely no success in budging them. As the reality of his situation started to dawn on him, he pulled with greater and greater aggressiveness, but his only response was the loud rattling of the chains. By rapid degrees, his panic level began to elevate, and he pulled with even more ferocity, still to no avail. Then he shouted, but that was an even bigger mistake, because he only succeeded in making his head hurt mightily. It was at that point that he managed to come to the realization that he was experiencing a thumping great hangover. That, in turn, led him to remember the previous night, which had been one of great festivity and merriment. He was utterly perplexed as to how something that seemed to be going so right could possibly have ended up so wrong ... Some fourteen hours earlier Vir had puttered around in his quarters and wondered when, or even if, Londo was going to take the time to see him. Indeed, he was wondering a great many things, up to and including whether or not his presence on Centauri Prime was one great big mistake. Then he reviewed, once again, the reasons he had come. The claims of a great darkness that had fallen upon Centauri Prime, that some sort of strange race had gained a hold over 262 Londo. And above all of that, he recalled the sense of personal humiliation over the entire business with Mariel. All of that served to steel his resolve, and made him more determined than ever to see through what he had committed to do. The door to his quarters chimed, and he went to open it. Timov was standing there, and there was an unmistakeable look of concern on her face. "I have some information for you regarding K0643," she said without preamble. "It's a planet." In quick, broad strokes she laid out what she had learned of the world. Of how it was a pet archaeological dig that had been initiated by Minister Durla. Of how some spoke of it as being haunted, as unlikely and improbable as such a thing might be. Of how people were vanishing from the site. "I'm wondering if there isn't some sort of cover-up attached to it," Timov said suspiciously. "But what would they be covering up? Is there any concrete example of wrongdoing?" "No, but I-" "Well!" boomed a familiarly loud voice. "Well, well, well! And what is this, eh? Is my former aide-de-camp dallying with the wife of the emperor, eh?" Vir was astounded at the change that had come over Londo. What he w as seeing here was the Londo of old. A man in good spirits, in good cheer, a man who appreciated the presence and even the companionship of others. He didn't simply walk into the room, he practically exploded into it, with huge strides that ate the distance between himself and Vir in no time. He embraced him as he would an old friend, and Timov as well, which astounded Vir all the more. It was at that point that Vir became convinced Kane was completely wrong. This wasn't a man who was being controlled by fearsome beings, whose life was beholden to creatures lurking in darkness. No, it was simply impossible. Londo was no good at concealing things from Vir; Vir knew far too much. But... Londo had known about that attempt on Sheridan's life. He had found that information somewhere, and from his attitude and actions the last time they'd been together, it had very much seemed as if Londo was acting like a man who knew he was under constant observation. Could that have been t
he case, at the time, but he was no longer under such scrutiny? Or was it that he had simply become so accustomed to it that he acted as if it meant nothing anymore? Vir decided he didn't dare relax his guard. He did, however , return the embrace. "You must come to my private dining room this evening . . . this very hour!" Londo declared. "We shall discuss old times ... we will laugh as of old ... we will make sport and make merry, eh? We shall celebrate your return home, Vir, for whatever the reason is that you have chosen to bless us with your presence. What is the reason, eh?" "Just lonely, Londo," Vir said quickly. "Just anxious to feel the ground of Centauri Prime under my feet again. And I wanted to breathe the fine air of our Homeworld instead of the recycled atmosphere of Babylon 5. You must know the feeling." "Ohhh, I know it very well. Very well, indeed. And Timov, you are looking fit this evening." He kissed her suavely on the knuckles. "You will bring the illustrious Vir to the private dining room, and join us, eh? We will make an evening of it. It will be like the old times for the three of us." "The three of us didn't have any old times together," Vir said reasonably, "unless you count your coming into your quarters while I was trying to stop Daggair and Timov from killing each other." "Ah, well Daggair will not be with us this evening, so you can rest assured that this night will go quite smoothly, Vir. Timov, I can trust you to make sure that Vir does not get himself lost in this vast abyss that is our home." "You may count on me, Londo." "You know, Timov ... these days, I believe I am finding that to be the case more and more. Well!" And he clapped his hands and rubbed them together briskly. "I have a few more stops to make during my early evening circle of good cheer. I will see you in ... shall we say ... an hour?" "Sounds great!" Vir said cheerfully. It was the first time in ages that he was actually looking forward to spending time with Londo. "Excellent! Excellent!" Londo then draped his hands behind his back and walked out of the room. "My! He certainly is ... boisterous," Vir observed. "That was how he used to be all the time, when we were first married,"Timov said. `And you know, the thing that I consider most upsetting, is that in those days, his outspokenness and boisterousness were remarkably annoying to me. More ... they were an embarrassment. But now I look upon it, and it's taken me this long to realize ... that he can be a rather charming individual." "I've always thought so," Vir said diplomatically. Indeed, the apparent change in Londo's attitude was enough to lend a certain amount of hope to Vir's expectations for his stay on Centauri Prime. Nevertheless, the words of Kane stayed with him, and he had brought along several rather potent bottles of wine just for the occasion. When he joined Londo that evening, Timov was already there, and after a brief pause, while his thoughts appeared to be elsewhere, Londo seemed delighted when Vir produced his alcoholic donation. Before long he was completely involved with the evening's private festivities. What impressed Vir the most was the easy camaraderie that had grown between Londo and Timov. He couldn't get over it. When he had seen the two of them together on B5, there had been nothing but hostility between them. It was as if they were born unable to stand the sight of one another. But here there was laughter, merriment, an open appreciation of each other's presence. And as Londo had become more and more inebriated, his attitude seemed to go beyond that of a man who was becoming drunk. He seemed liberated, deliriously so. His laughter rang out so loudly that occasionally guards stuck their heads in to make certain that nothing was amiss. "Vir, where have you been all this time!" Londo cried out, clapping Vir on the back and then sliding off a chair. "I had forgotten what it was like to have you as a drinking companion!" "That's probably because I don't really drink very much," Vir replied. This just caused an even bigger reaction of hilarity from Londo, who poured himself another drink, decided that the glass was too time-consuming, and took a swig directly from the bottle. Timov hadn't had nearly as much to drink as Londo, but she was quite nicely toasted herself. Vir was amazed to see that, in that condition, the woman was positively giggly, more like a teenage girl than the stern and severe woman she normally tended to be. "To Centauri Prime!" Londo called out, raising the glass, which was still full. He took another swig from the bottle, then threw the glass. It shattered against the wall, spreading thick purple liquid across it. Londo stared, bleary-eyed and said, "I suppose that should have been empty, yes?" "It should have been empty, yes!" Timov said, laughing. She hauled herself to her feet. "Londo ... I'm going to call it a night." Londo looked out at the dark sky. "That certainly would have been my guess," he agreed. "Good night, my dear," she said, and then she kissed him. It was quite an overt gesture for Timov, and Londo was clearly surprised by it. Their lips parted, and then she touched Londo's cheek and said softly, "Perhaps I will see you later." With that, she walked out. "What do you think she meant by that, eh?" asked Londo, taking another swig of liquor. "I ... think maybe she meant that she would see you later." "You know, I think she did." Londo looked wistfully in the direction that she had departed. It was at that point that Vir took a deep breath, and then he said, "So ... tell me about Shiv'kala." At first, Londo said nothing at all. It was as if his alcohol- saturated brain needed extra time to process the comment. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze on Vir. His eyes were so hazed over that it was impossible for Vir to get a feeling for what was going on behind them. "What ... did you say?" he asked. "I said ... tell me about Shiv'kala." Londo waggled a finger and Vir drew closer. With a sodden grin on his face, Londo said, "I would not ... say that name again ... if I were you. . ." "But ... is there a reason you can't tell me about Shiv'kala?" That was all Vir remembered. In his cell, Vir realized that that was the point when Londo had whipped the bottle of wine around and knocked Vir cold. That was where the dull ache at the base of his skull had come from. Knowing it, however, didn't make the knowledge any better, nor did it improve on his situation. "Help!" he called experimentally, but no one responded. He shouted once more for aid, but it was no more forthcoming the second time than it had been the first. The evening had gone terribly, terribly wrong ... to put it mildly. Londo had never in his life sobered up so quickly, so completely . The moment that name had escaped Vir's lips, every bit of inebriation had dissolved. Part of it was that the keeper, which was enjoying the same blissful alcoholic haze as its charge, had been snapped to full attentiveness when the Drakh's name was mentioned. Part of it was Londo's immediate realization that something had to be done, and done instantly. Unfortunately, he had no idea what that something might be, and so he had reverted to the simplest and most straightforward means of handling a problem , especially when it involved hearing something that one did not want to hear. He silenced the source. In this instance, silencing the source entailed nothing more involved than knocking him cold. That he had managed with no effort. He stood over Vir's prostrate form, and naturally, as he had already suspected would occur, Shiv'kala emerged from his state of perpetual hiding. Never had the Drakh seemed more grave than he was at that moment. "This one must die," Shiv'kala said. "No," Londo said. "Pleading will not help." "That was not a plea. That was a statement." Shiv'kala looked at him with pure danger in his face. "Do not defy me." Without a word, Londo crossed the room to a sword hanging on the wall-ornamental but nonetheless lethal. He pulled it from its sheath and turned to face the Drakh. He held the sword firmly in his right hand. His intent for its use was clear. "I defy you," said Londo. "I will kill you if I have to." "You are insane," the Drakh told him. "You know what I can do to you. The pain ... " "Yes. The pain. But you siphon it through the keeper, and the keeper is not functioning ... up to its best levels at the moment. Nor am I. But a drunk lunatic with a sword can still do a great deal of damage." To demonstrate, he took two lurching, staggering steps toward the Drakh. He was having trouble standing, and his hand-eye coordination was almost nonexistent. But that didn't make the blade any less deadly as it whipped through the air. "Now then," Londo said. "You can try to stop me ... with the pain ... but the question is ... will I still be able to cut you in half ... before you stop me completely?" "If you kill me," Shiv'kala said quietly, "I will simply be replaced by
another o fthe Drakh Entire. And my replacement will not be nearly so generous as I have been." "Perhaps. But you will still be dead. Unless, of course, your own life means nothing to you, in which case your death will be ... besides the point." He took another several steps, slicing the sword back and forth like a scythe whacking through wheat. It was clear that he was not bluffing. Shiv'kala did not back down, did not panic, did not even come close to doing so. Instead he said coolly, "Very well. Simply have him locked up for now. We shall settle his situation later. I give you my word that I will not call for his death ... if you do not attempt mine." Londo considered this, as well as his alcoholic haze would allow him. Then he tossed the sword aside, lurched to the door, and summoned the guards. They saw the emperor's condition, saw the unmoving Vir upon the floor. What they did not see was the Drakh who, to Londo's utter lack of surprise , had vanished. "Lock him up," Londo said. "On what charge is he being arrested, Majesty?" asked one of the guards. Londo stared at him through bleary eyes. "For asking too many questions. Pray that you don't wind up his cell mate." Then he staggered out into the hallway, his thoughts racing. He had been deluding himself into thinking things could go back to the way they had been. That he might actually be able to find happiness and camaraderie with loved ones. He had been fooling himself. By having people close to him, he was simply putting them in danger from the Drakh. At least Senna had a sort of dispensation, her presence in the palace was a trade-off for having to endure Durla as minister. Say what one would about the Drakh: At least they had kept their word when a bargain was made. But Vir ... poor, stupid Vir, deluded Vir, Vir who had somehow stumbled across the name of Shiv'kala and, in uttering it, had drawn a huge target on his back. What was going to happen to him now? Londo had to get him out of the horrific situation that he had hurled himself blindly into. Friends, lovers. They were liabilities to him, he understood that now. Luxuries he simply could not afford. For as long as they were around, he would continue to fool himself into thinking that he could have something vaguely approaching a normal life. He entered his quarters and stopped dead. Timov was in his bed. Draped across the top of the bed, she was dressed in an alluring nightgown, with an inviting smile playing across her face. Not even on their honeymoon, the requisite consummation of their arranged marriage, had she looked so happy to see him. "Hello, Londo," she said. "I thought you'd never get here." "You can't be serious," he told her. "Don't worry," she assured him. "I know you've been drinking a bit, and won't necessarily be at your best. . ." "But ... now? Now? After all these years? Certainly you can't be-" "Londo," she said with a gentleness of which he would have thought her incapable. " `All these years' is exactly the problem. So many possibilities have been sacrificed to vituperation , and to the two of us working out anger over our being forced together by our families. It's taken a lot for me to realize that it needn't be that way. What I need to find out is if you've come to that realization, too." He had. He wanted to take her in his arms, to love her, to make up for all that wasted time. But even as he wanted it, he knew that it was impossible. Those who were close to Londo, those whom he loved, had a nasty habit of dying. The further that Timov was from him, the better, for her sake. And besides, he had the monstrosity sitting on his shoulder. What if, in the act of love, she managed to detect it? At the very least, thanks to the keeper's presence, there would be no privacy. Everything that he and she felt and shared would become part of the awareness of the Drakh Entire. The notion was ghastly, horrific. Something as personal, as private and intimate as that, belonging to the gestalt mind of those creatures? It would be as if she were being raped without even knowing it. And he, Londo, would be the instrument through which it had occurred. He cleared his throat and tried to give his best impression of someone seized with anticipation of an event that was eagerly awaited and long in coming. Timov actually-Great Maker help him-giggled in a faintly girlish manner. "Why, Londo. You seem positively nervous. I haven't seen you this nervous since our wedding night." "I was not nervous on our wedding night," he said archly, stalling for time as his mind raced. "Oh, of course not. That's why you were trembling the entire night." "You left the windows open and there was a stiff draft." "And is anything ... stiff ... this evening?" she asked. Londo gulped. He hardly recognized the woman. She had never been an enthusiastic bedmate, even in the earliest days, and he had just written that off to a fundamental lack of interest on her part. He was beginning to perceive, however, that it wasn't lack of interest in the act, so much as it was in him. For just a moment, he considered it. Then he felt the keeper stirring on his shoulder, as if its own interest was piqued, and immediately he dismissed the idea from his mind. However, dismissing Timov was not quite as easy. And it had to be done with finality. There was no choice; he simply could not risk a recurrence of this night, ever. He tugged uncomfortably at his shirt and said, "If you wouldn't mind ... I could use a few minutes to slip into something. . ." "Less confining?" "Exactly, yes." He nodded. He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes off her. He allowed his breath to steady, his pulse to slow so that his heart wasn't hammering against his chest. And then he summoned Durla. Quickly, straightforwardly, he outlined for Durla exactly what he wanted done. The minister 's eyes widened as Londo explained it. Of course, this was something that was solidly within Durla's comfort zone; indeed, he would probably enjoy it, for Londo knew all too well that there was no love lost between Durla and Timov. The unjustness of it rankled at Londo; of the three of them this night, the only one who would actually have a pleasant evening was Durla, who was certainly the least entitled. Truly, the Great Maker had a perverse sense of humor some nights. Timov was beginning to wonder if Londo would ever return . It was one of those situations where one starts to ponder how long one would stay before realizing that the person being waited for was not going to show up. Then there was a sound at the door, and she looked up. Londo was standing there, smiling at her, dressed indeed in far more loose-fitting attire. He looked younger, more handsome , more vital than she could recall seeing him. Or perhaps it wasn't really him; perhaps it was her, or the way she was seeing him. It was as if years of resentment had been scraped away from her, like an encrustment from the hull of a ship. She said nothing then. There didn't seem to be any requirement for words. He came to her then, lay with her, and kissed her more passionately than she could ever recall. She was stunned at the vehemence of it. In her imaginings, it was as if he was kissing her in a way that was to make up for all of the sourness of the past ... ... or ... ... or to last him for the entirety of their future, as if this was it, the last time they would be together. Immediately she brushed the notion aside as ridiculous, paranoid, a residue of the antipathy they had felt for one another all these years. This was their time, and nothing was going to spoil the mo- The doors of the bedroom burst inward. Londo immediately sat up, his head snapping around, and Timov saw that there were several soldiers standing in the door. In between them was Durla. "Unless you truly desire to see the city from the vantage point of your head upon a pike," growled Londo, "you had best have some incredibly good explanation for your presence here." Durla took two steps forward and said in a firm, unyielding voice, "Highness ... I regret to inform you that we have uncovered evidence indicating that the lady Timov was plotting against the crown." "That's preposterous!" Timov said immediately. "You can't be serious." "Do you think, milady, I would put forward this charge if I were not positive?" asked Durla, reeking with disdain. "I am more than aware of the gravity of the charge and the stakes involved . So rest assured that I would not say this unless I knew it for a fact. She has allies, Highness. Allies who would like nothing better than to see you removed from office, your head upon that same pike that you alluded to just now. She is to search out your weaknesses, and when she has compiled them, she and her allies will strike." "tondo, throw him out!" Timov said, rage building. "Don't listen to these calumnies! They ... he . . ." Londo was looking at her in a way that she couldn't even begin to decipher. It seemed to be a mixture of an
ger and horror and infinite loss. "I should have known," he said quietly. The immensity of the meaning implicit in those words stunned her at first. "You ... you can't actually be saying that you believe these mendacities! You-" "Why else!" he demanded. "Why else would you embark on this seduction? What was it to be, eh? Poison, perhaps? Or a simple dagger between the ribs? Or did you just want me to lower my guard sufficiently so that I would tell you something you could use against me." "Londo!" She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In absence of anything else, rage began to consume her. "You would actually think that of me? Of me?" "Get out of here," he whispered. "Londo ... T, "Get out of here!" he fairly exploded. "Take her away! Lock her up! Now!" `Are you out of your mind! " she shrieked as she got to her feet, and then the guards were upon her, dragging her out. Londo watched her being pulled away. He felt as if his hearts were being ripped out along with her. Her voice echoed up and down the hallway, her protests, her voicing of her hurt, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing he dared do. He was still shuddering inwardly at the vomitous feeling he'd had of the Drakh watching his final, amorous moments with her in a sort of clinical manner, as if he were not a man but a laboratory specimen being put through his paces. Durla approached Londo. He had never seemed quite so tentative before. He said in a low voice, "Sufficient, Majesty?" Londo couldn't even stand to look at him. "Get out," he said in a voice that sounded as if it were being issued from somewhere beyond the grave. For once in his life, Durla was wise enough to leave a room without endeavoring to have the last word. chapter 22 The next morning, Timov was brought before him. It ached Londo just to look at her, but he kept his face impassive . . . as deadpan as Timov's own was. Guards stood on either side of Timov, watching her warily. Londo thought their caution was rather amusing in its way, as if they were concerned that somehow this small woman would overwhelm them. He sat on his throne, with Durla standing nearby, watching with narrowed eyes. "Timov, daughter of Algul," Londo intoned, "evidence has been uncovered that indicates treasonous activities on your part against my government." "Yes. I'm sure it has," she said crisply. "If you are tried . . . you will be condemned." This comment clearly startled Durla. He turned and looked at Londo and said, " `If' she is tried, Majesty? But surely-" "It is our decision," Londo continued, as if Durla had not spoken, "that such a trial is not in keeping with the more forgiving and tolerant tone of this administration. As we always have, we seek to heal rifts and build for a greater Centauri Republic . The Republic will not be served by the condemnation and execution of the wife of the emperor. If forced to take that road . . . we will walk it, of course. But we are offering you the opportunity to depart, now and forever. You will maintain your title and station, but you will never come within one hundred miles of this place. And if you persist in seditious activities , this case will be reopened and reexamined. That is 275 the offer I am making to you, my lady." He paused, and then added, "I suggest you take it." She regarded him for a long moment. "What was it, Londo? Was it that I reminded you too much of the man you had been ... and could be? Or was it that I reminded you too much of the man you are. For you to believe some trumped- up charges-" "Your decision, my lady?" he said coldly. "Well, let me think," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Either I can choose certain death ... or I can choose the option of keeping away from a place that I never want to set foot in again, and refraining from activities that I never embarked upon in the first place. What a difficult choice. The latter, I should think." "Very well. Your belongings have already been packed for you. Personnel will be provided for you to escort you to wherever you wish to go." "I wish I could escort you to where I wish you would go," Timov shot back. "Or was that a seditious thing to say." "No. Simply rude. Good-bye, Timov." For a moment his voice caught and then, sounding husky and forced, he said, "Enjoy ... your life." Not sounding the least bit conflicted, Timov shot back, "Good-bye, Londo. Rot in hell." When she was gone, Durla turned to Londo and began, "Majesty ... that may not have been wise. Leniency could be viewed as weakness, in some quarters." "Durla," Londo said very softly, "if you say one more word just one-I will demonstrate my strength of moral character by breaking your neck with my bare hands. Yes?" Durla, wisely, said nothing. Londo walked away from him then and out into the corridor ... only to discover Senna running toward him, looking quite distressed. He could surmise the reason. He tried to walk past her, but she would have none of it, instead saying, "Majesty! Timov, she-1-1 thought everything was going so. . ." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't understand!" "With any luck, Senna,"Londo said, "you never will." And he headed off down the corridor. Vir looked up forlornly as the door to the cell opened, and he gaped in astonishment when he saw Londo standing there. "What am I doing here, Londo?" he demanded. Londo glanced at the manacles and then called to the guards. "Unlock him. Release him." "Release ... you mean it's over? I can go? I. . ." One of the guards walked in with the key and undid his manacles. They popped open and Vir rubbed his wrists, looking in utter confusion at Londo. "It was a misunderstanding," Londo said. "A what? Londo, you knocked me cold with a bottle of wine! Just because I said a name!" "A name," Londo replied, "that, if you are very, very wise, you will never say to anyone, anywhere, ever again." "Londo, listen to me-" "No, Vir. I am the emperor now. I don't have to listen. That is one of the conveniences. You will listen. I will speak. And then you will leave." He took a deep breath, glanced at his shoulder, and then said, "We have different roads to walk down, Vir, you and I. And we must watch each other from a distance. Do you understand? A distance. The thing is ... we cannot be hurt. Not really. Death holds no terror for either of us." "It ... it doesn't?" "No. For we are protected, we two. Both of us. Protected by visions, protected by prophecy. You know of what I speak." Vir, in fact, did. He knew of Londo's prophetic dream wherein he had seen himself, an old man, dying at the hands of G'Kar. And Vir had been present when Lady Morelia had made a prediction that both of them would be emperor, with one succeeding upon the death of the other. But she had not been specific as to who would be first to wear the white. Obviously it had been Londo. That meant that Vir would succeed to the throne upon Londo's passing, which meant that-until Vir actually ascended-he was safe from harm. At least, from fatal harm. "We can tempt our fates;" continued Londo, "but ultimately, they should be on our sides. Each of us, in our way and to a degree . . . is invincible. However, it is a fimny thing about the fates. It's not wise to push them too far, because they have a tendency to push back. So ... I suggest we pursue our destinies at a comfortable distance from each other, lest our mutual fates become crossed, and the result is to the liking of neither of us. So ... swear to me that you will not speak of these matters again. That you will return to Babylon 5, and keep your head out of the line of fire. Can you swear that to me, Vir?" Vir gave it a long moment's thought. "No. I'm sorry, Londo ... I can't," he said finally. "I will never stop hoping that you retreat from the road that you're walking. I will never stop searching for a means to turn you away from it. And I will never stop being your friend ... even if, eventually, I find that I have become your enemy." At which point Vir firmly expected that the manacles would be reattached to his hands, and that he would be tossed back into his cell, to be forgotten by all. Instead, Londo smiled. Then he patted Vir on the shoulder and said, "Close enough." He gestured for the guards to follow him, and moments later, Vir was alone in the cell, the door wide open. "Londo?" Vir called cautiously. At that point, Vir was just paranoid enough to believe that-if he chose to walk through the door-he might be shot under the guise of being an escaping prisoner. But when he stuck his head out fully prepared for it to be blown off he saw no one in the corridor. He walked cautiously down the hallway, then saw a door standing open at the end. He emerged into sunlight, possibly the sunniest day that he could recall in all his life on Centauri Prime. Sunny ... but there was a chill, as well. Although he couldn't quite be sure whether the chill was in the air, or in him. As soon as he had taken several steps away, the door slammed shut behind him
. Vir turned and saw that he was outside the palace. There was no way back in. That was all right with him; there really wasn't any place in there for him anymore. At least, not for the time being. Durla felt as if he was having a reasonably good day. It wasn't going exactly the way that he had hoped ... but all in all, it wasn't bad. He settled in behind his desk, prepared for the rest of the day to be fairly productive. At that point, Kuto showed up, all joviality and pleasantry , and brought Durla the information he had requested. Calmly and methodically, he went over each name as Durla nodded, and listened to each one, and acted as if he cared about any of them aside from the one he was waiting for. Then Kuto got to Mariel and her activities-where she had been, what she had been up to, and, most significantly, whom she had been up to it with. Durla managed to contain his reaction, instead simply nodding and taking in that bit of information with the same equanimity with which he had attended to the other names. He actually managed to wait until after Kuto had left and was a significant distance from his office before he let out an agonized and strangled scream. At that point, he didn't know whom he wanted to kill more: Vir Cotto, for whom he had had no assassination plans up until that point, or Londo Mollari, for whom he had a very detailed assassination plan all worked out. Either one, however, would give him extreme satisfaction. In his private quarters, Londo Mollari watched the slowly receding figure of Timov, walking proudly away down the main walk, head held high, dignity intact. He thought, for some reason, that he heard a distant scream, and decided that it was simply his soul giving voice to its feelings. Vir walked the perimeter of the palace, heading toward the main street. As he did so, he saw, not far away, Timov. She and a small entourage of guards were heading in the other direction. For just a moment, he was certain she clearly spotted him out of the corner of her eye, as she cast a half glance in his direction. Then, thrusting her chin out slightly, she pointedly turned away from him and walked off in another direction. "Hello. Are you busy?" The voice startled him. It came from his immediate right. He turned and saw, standing at the mouth of an alleyway, a cloaked figure who he was already coming to know quite well. On either side of the figure, however, stood two more cloaked individuals whom he didn't know at all, one male, one female. "Actually, Merlin, I'm not busy at all. Who are your associates?" "These?" He nodded to the female and male in turn and said, "Gwynn ... Finian ... this is Vir. Vir here is going to help us save the galaxy ... provided he's not doing anything important at the moment." "No," Vir said, glancing in the direction of the palace, which now seemed very far off. "I won't be doing anything especially important for ... oh, I'd guess at least a decade or so." Gwynn looked him up and down with open skepticism. "Are you sure he's going to be of use to us?" "Oh, absolutely," Vir responded as if she had addressed him. "You see ... I'm invincible." "You're very fortunate," said Finian. And Vir thought that, far off in one of the upper palace windows, he could see the small, distant and vague outline of Londo Mollari, looking out at the city and then turning away. "More fortunate than some," said Vir. "Far more fortunate ... than some."