Armies of Light and Dark (16 page)

"Yes, yes, that's right," Vir said quickly. He slid into the seat next to Mariel and draped an arm around her. She seemed thrilled by the contact. She started to put her hands in places she shouldn't, and Vir discreetly but firmly placed them somewhere less inflammatory. "Lovers. My lover. Her and me. What can I say?"

"What indeed," Durla said coldly. In an obvious, and somewhat failed, attempt to lighten the moment, Durla continued, "I was just telling the lady Mariel that she is sorely missed back on Centauri Prime. For far too long has the court been deprived of her sparkling presence..."

"Tragic. Absolutely tragic," said Vir. He turned to Mariel and, taking a leap of faith, said, "Mariel, perhaps you should return to Centauri Prime. I know you've been out of the social whirl back home for quite some time." That was, in fact, an understatement. Mariel had been something of an outcast ever since Londo had divorced her. Although her presence on Babylon 5 had naturally precluded her being back on Centauri Prime, certainly she had been considered a pariah.

Fortunately for Vir, Mariel responded exactly as he expected.

"What need have I for Centauri Prime when I have you."

"Nevertheless," Vir said, "Centauri Prime is home. To feel its soil beneath your feet, to breathe the good air of the Homeworld..."

"I couldn't think of going without you."

Perfect. It couldn't have been any more perfect if he had scripted it himself. He turned to Durla and said, with an air of tribulation in his voice,

"What can I say? She wouldn't think of going without me. But I fear I'm somewhat... how shall I put it ... I'm less than desirable to certain individuals on Centauri Prime, including – tragically – the emperor. So I reside here, in exile." He sighed so heavily he thought his lungs would implode.

"A true tragedy," Durla agreed. Vir waited. He knew the rest of the sentiment would be forthcoming, and he was absolutely right. "We should do something about that."

"But what can we do?" Vir said with total resignation.

"Yes, what can we do?" Mariel echoed.

"I am ... not without influence," Durla said slowly. "It may well be that the ambassador's abrupt departure from our Homeworld may actually turn out to be nothing more than a tragic misunderstanding. Allow me to have a talk with the emperor. You are, after all, still our ambassador. You should be representing the greatness of our republic to others. But if you are kept in ignorance of that republic ... if you can only come so close and no closer ... your effectiveness is tremendously limited."

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Vir said with a tone of wonderment. "You and I, we're thinking on the same level, Minister! Who would have thought?"

"Who indeed," Durla responded dourly, but he quickly brightened. "And of course, the lady Mariel would accompany you, I assume."

"Oh, naturally. Naturally," Vir said quickly. "That goes without saying... although, you know, it never actually hurts to say it."

"Yes. There are things that should always be we should always discuss our successes. And our failures as well. That way we can be candid with each other. We can all know where we stand."

"Candor is a good thing," Vir agreed. "I mean, after all, we're all on the same side, right? We all want what's best for Centauri Prime."

"Absolutely," said Durla. "For example, I had an archaeological dig that I was overseeing. Something that was providing jobs for many grateful Centauri. But the project seems to have fallen apart. It is, in short, a failure, it seems." He lowered his voice and shook his head. "Lives were lost. A sad, sad thing. You ... wouldn't know anything about that, would you ... Ambassador?"

Immediately, Vir's mind was screaming. What did Durla know about Vir's presence on K0643? Had Renegar or Rem Lanas told Durla that Vir had been there? Did he associate Vir with the destruction of the Shadow base? Did he even know about the base? Vir's impulse was to start talking, and keep on talking. That was what he had a tendency to do whenever he was nervous. But it had never been clearer to him than it was at that moment that he was going to have to change his method of operation. Clamping his teeth shut with a visible effort, Vir considered the situation, and decided that the absolute last thing he could do was give in to his primary impulse.

"What is there to know, Minister?" he asked.

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal."

"Well," said Vir, steepling his fingers and fixing a calm, level gaze on Durla. "At such time when you have decided which it is, you can let me know and we can talk further on the matter. Isn't that right, Mariel?" he inquired. He got the exact answer he expected.

"Whatever you say, Vir," she said, smiling that high voltage smile at him. She turned back to Durla. "Is he not brilliant?" she asked.

"Brilliant," Durla agreed flatly. He rose from the table. "It has been a pleasure speaking with you, Ambassador. And I look forward to seeing you on Homeworld again as soon as possible."

"And I you, Minister." Feeling uncustomarily bold, Vir inquired, "That project of yours ... I would hope that there are others to replace it, considering that apparently it has fallen through?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, there are always other options," Durla said. "I am always coming up with new concepts, new ideas."

"How fascinating." Vir leaned forward, all ears. "I've always wondered ... where do great thinkers such as you get your ideas?"

Durla actually laughed softly at that, as if the question – or perhaps the answer – was very amusing. He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table, and said, "Dreams, Ambassador. I get them from my dreams."

"What a productive use of your slumber. Here, all I ever get is a good night's sleep," said Vir. Durla's already thin smile became even more so. It was as if his lips were vanishing from his face entirely.

"How very fortunate for you. Good day to you, Ambassador ... my lady Mariel." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles suavely, then turned and walked away. Vir watched him go, never taking his eyes from him. Mariel, for her part, seemed to have forgotten the minister immediately. Instead, she was taken with the notion of returning to Centauri Prime.

"Will it not be wonderful, Vir? You and I, in the thick of society. There I will be, with you on my arm, so proud. The proudest woman there. Everyone will look at us, and I can only imagine what they will say."

As it happened, Vir could imagine, as well. Londo would be chuckling over Vir's foolishness, just as Timov had displayed astonishment that Vir would take up with the potentially lethal woman. Durla would be watching for some crack in the relationship that would allow him to move in. Perhaps he wouldn't even wait. Obviously he had had designs upon Mariel for some time, and was only now feeling confident enough in his position of power to make a move. That very confidence might prove to be extremely problematic for Vir. And then there would be everyone else, who would likely wonder what the slightly buffoonish Vir Cotto was doing arm in arm with the emperor's cast-off wife. They might not necessarily hold Mariel in the same esteem that the diplomats on Babylon 5 did. Once they returned to Centauri, any number of possibilities presented themselves ... none of them particularly pleasant.

She took his hand, then, and whispered, "Did I please you, Vir? Did I handle him in a way that satisfied you?"

He felt a twinge of guilt, and he thought of the things Galen had said to him. It made him feel small. Once again, he felt as if, after everything he had been through, he was little more than a plaything of the techno-mages. Only months before, he had felt like a galactic hero, fearlessly battling Drakhs ... well, battling Drakhs, at least ... and singlehandedly destroying secret bases ... well, single-handedly with help. Yet now he looked into Mariel's eyes, and felt smaller than the smallest of Centauri.

That night, after settling into bed, he dreamed. It was a very short, but very stark dream. Mariel was simply standing there, looking at him, making no motion toward him. The top of her head was gone. From the headband up, there was nothing, as if a huge section of her brain had simply been removed. And there were tears rolling down her face. No audible sobs accompanied, there was just the wetness. He reached toward her to wipe away the tears, but he could get no closer to her. A distance behind her, Galen was there, shaking his head, but otherwise mute.

Vir startled himself awake. Across the room from him, Mariel was sleeping soundly. But something prompted him to draw close to her, and when he did so he could see that there were dried tears upon her face. He sat back and pondered the notion that it took only fourteen words to get someone to fall in love with you. Only fourteen words. It seemed like so few. He leaned forward and whispered to Mariel, "I'm sorry." Only two words. It seemed like more than enough. But it was not. And he knew it. And there wasn't a damned thing that he could do about it except fall back into a fitful sleep, while trying to convince himself that what he had done was right. Unfortunately, there were not enough words in all the Centauri language to do that.

EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) August 1, 2268.

It was so simple. Durla puts forward an air of utter confidence, but it is only an air. He has come too far, too quickly, you see. His position as minister was a gift to him from the Drakh, who perceived him as a useful tool for their assorted plans. As a result, he was thrust into his position with no experience in the ins and outs of court intrigue. He has learned quickly and well ... but he is still learning. I, on the other hand, could teach seminars.

Getting him to visit Babylon 5 was simplicity itself. Secrets are the currency in which we all trade. Senna's little investigations, her chats and probes, had told me what I needed. The New Guard, namely Durla and his ilk, still had not quite grasped the notion that keeping certain things to themselves could only benefit them. But they were still relatively young and foolish, and so when they learned things about each other, they had a habit of speaking of it to one another. The more one speaks of things, the more likely those things are to reach certain ears. Ears such as mine.

It had been during one of my routine meetings with Durla, to discuss upcoming public projects. He was, at that point, seeking approval for a new structure that was to be overseen by newly minted Minister of Development Lione, in conjunction with Kuto, the minister of information.

The design for the structure was simple and elegant. It would be the tallest building in the area. It would loom like a great tower over the city, gleaming pure and white, and it would have no windows. To me, it sounded most claustrophobic, but Durla insisted that it was for the security and protection of those who worked within. "Spies are everywhere," he said to me with great significance.

This building was intended to house assorted offices and bureaus dedicated to the rebuilding of Centauri Prime, and to the service of the public. It was felt that, by making it so plainly visible, it would be a source of inspiration to all of Centauri Prime. It even had a name, a name which the perpetually avuncular Kuto had come up with during one of their brainstorming sessions. He dubbed it the Tower of Power, and it was a name that – Great Maker preserve them – stuck. Ghastly name, that, but they seemed pleased with it, and it was their eyesore, after all, so I suppose they were entitled to call the beastly structure anything they wished. So there was Durla, in the throne room, and he was pointing out to me the beginning of the Tower of Power's construction.

"It will point the way, Highness," he told me with confidence.

"To where?"

"To the stars. To our destiny. To the legacies that we will leave."

"I see. Of course," and I sighed heavily, "what good are the stars when one has no one to share them with, eh?"

It was a comment calculatedly conceived to snag Durla's attention, and it succeeded perfectly. He looked at me with curiosity. Normally I contributed very little to our "conferences." He spoke. I listened, and nodded, and gave approval to whatever it was he wished to do. We didn't chat or make small talk. So for me to say something vaguely approaching normal discourse was most unusual.

"How do you mean, Highness?" he responded curiously. I sighed even more heavily.

"We speak of legacies, Durla, but what do we mean, really? Is our legacy the achievements we strive for? The changes we make on Centauri Prime?"

"Absolutely," he nodded. But I shook my head.

"What you and I do here, someone else can undo when we are gone. We delude ourselves into thinking that we do something of permanence, but there is no certainty in that. No," and I waggled a finger, "the only true legacy for which we can strive is family. Loved ones. People to whom we will mean more than programs or building plans or imperial mandates."

"I ... never thought of it quite that way, Highness," said Durla, but he didn't appear quite certain of what it was I was saying.

"I have no loved ones, Durla. My one wife will forever hate me..."

"But Highness, you asked me..."

"I know, Durla, I know. Do not be concerned; I am not attempting to blame you for the end of that relationship." I shook my head. "There were good reasons for doing what I did, and having you do what you did. I do not regret them. But she is gone now. I have no children. Daggair, one of my former wives, is skulking about, who knows where. And as for Mariel..." He looked at me askance. I could see that I had finally caught his attention. Thank you, Senna.

"What of her, Highness?"

"I understand as I do."

"What is there to understand, Highness?"

I waved dismissively.

"Oh, you do not care about these things..."

"...always have time to discuss whatever you deem worthy of discussing, Highness." He sounded properly obsequious in tone.

Once upon a time, he had always had that tone. Of late, he had spoken with arrogance far more in keeping with his elevated level of self-importance. But in this particular instance, some of the old Durla was peeking through. From that point, I gave it no more than ten days before he would travel to Babylon 5, to meet with Mariel.