"Shiv'kala," said the grey creature. He reached down and lifted some sort of odd shroud from Welch's corpse. Speaking as much to himself as to Throk, he murmured, "This belonged to us. He should not have come by it. I do not know how he did. In the end, though, it could not protect him from me. I negated its effect so that you could see him, and you did the rest ... very well. Our confidence was not misplaced." He looked at Throk with obsidian eyes. "You will probably want to remove the data crystal in his pocket."
"What are you?" said Throk. There was now no bravado in his tone at all. Shiv'kala stepped forward and touched one hand to Throk's temple. Throk tried to move, but was unable to do so.
"I," Shiv'kala said softly, "am simply a figment of your imagination."
Throk blinked, trembled slightly for no reason that he could recall, and looked at the empty office in front of him. Then he heard footsteps pounding up the steps behind him and he turned to face several other members of the Prime Candidates. They gaped in open astonishment at the corpse on the floor and then stared mutely at Throk. Throk offered no explanation whatsoever. None seemed necessary. Instead he simply said, "Get rid of him." As an afterthought, he added, "And remove the data crystal from his pocket."
They did as they were told, removing the data crystal, tossing it on the floor, and grinding it underfoot. Within moments, Lou Welch's body had been shoved into a bag and dragged unceremoniously down the stairs, his head thumping rhythmically on each step as he was hauled along like a sack of vegetables. The Prime Candidates who had taken on the task made sure to haul the body to a site reasonably distant from their safe house, then tossed it into an alleyway. And there they left it. Lou lay there for a time, passersby paying the lifeless heap no mind. And then a robed figure approached him. No one cared about the robed figure because somehow their eyes seem to glide right off him if they happened to look in his direction. He knelt next to the body, undoing the top of the sack and yanking it down so that he could have a clear look at that which he already knew he was going to find. The head was swollen black-and-blue where it had struck the wall, and dried blood had coalesced all over its face.
"Poor bastard," muttered Finian. "Vir's not going to be happy about this at all."
C
HAPTER 14
"I want him dead. Whoever did this, I want him dead." Garibaldi was trembling with barely suppressed rage. He was standing in a Centauri morgue, where he had been summoned to come and identify the body of one Lou Welch, Human. Welch's body lay unmoving on the slab, surrounded by Garibaldi, G'Kar, and Durla, their faces grim. A coroner stood nearby, impassive.
"The emperor regrets that this has come to pass," Durla began.
"The emperor regrets. He couldn't be bothered to come here, is what you're saying."
"He had other things to which he needed to attend..."
"So did this guy!" snapped Garibaldi, stabbing a finger at Welch. "And he's not going to get to attend to them, because one of you bastards did this to him!"
"Mr. Garibaldi, I resent that phrasing–"
Garibaldi silenced him with a gesture.
"Ask me if I care;' he said tersely. "Let me make this absolutely clear, Minister. Whoever did this, I want his head on a platter with some nice garnish and a few lemon wedges, and I want it now!"
"Michael, this isn't accomplishing anything," G'Kar said softly.
"You know what, G'Kar? I don't care! If I keep silent, I still won't be accomplishing anything, so I might as well accomplish nothing at the top of my lungs!"
"Mr. Garibaldi, this is regrettable," Durla said, "but the simple truth is that Centauri Prime is no more immune from crime and random acts of violence than any other world ..."
Garibaldi circled the slab and came right up to the minister.
"This wasn't anything random. He found out something, and one of your people did this."
"Found out something. What would that be?"
"About what you people are really up to."
Durla's eyes narrowed.
"If you have some specific charge," he said in a measured, deliberate tone, "then I suggest you take it back to President Sheridan. If you do not, then I will thank you not to throw around unsupported allegations, since they will do nothing to alleviate the tensions between our races. To the best of my knowledge, however, we have been quite forthcoming in answering all your questions, and proving to you that your accusations of military buildup have been groundless. As unfortunate as this situation is, what it most definitely does not need is to be complicated with unrelated accusations."
Garibaldi took all this in; then he leaned forward until he was right in Durla's face. When he spoke, it was so softly that Durla had to strain to hear.
"If I find out," he murmured, "that you, or someone who answers directly to you, had anything to do with this ... then I swear to God, Minister, I will kill you myself."
"I would not advise that," said Durla calmly. "That would create an incident."
"We've already got an incident," Garibaldi said, indicating Welch. "And someone is going to pay for it." His hands were opening and closing as if he was trying to find someone whose throat he could wrap them around. And then a voice said sharply, "I don't think threats are going to help."
"Ambassador Cotto," Durla said quickly. "Your timing could not be better."
"Or worse, depending on your point of view," said Vir. He crossed the morgue, looking around uncomfortably. "Chilly in here," he said. Then he looked down in undisguised dismay at the body on the slab.
That was one thing that Garibaldi genuinely liked about Vir. It was impossible for him to hide what he was thinking. Vir's face could be read more easily than a data crystal. At least, that's what Garibaldi once would have thought. Now, though, he thought there was an air of inscrutability to Vir that hadn't been there before. Vir had changed in the time since he'd last seen him, Garibaldi realized, and he didn't think it was for the better. Vir turned to the coroner, who was standing a few feet away.
"Do we know the cause?" he asked. It was Garibaldi who answered.
"Yeah. The cause was that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and found out something he shouldn't have, and was killed for it."
"That's a serious charge, Mr. Garibaldi."
"Hey!" said Garibaldi. "It's not like Lou was picked up for jaywalking! A man is dead! As crimes go, they don't get much more serious than that. Serious crimes require serious charges – and serious punishment."
It was G'Kar who spoke up.
"At the moment, Mr. Garibaldi, the one who is being punished is you. You are not responsible for Mr. Welch's death simply because you brought him here."
"Whose side are you on?" Garibaldi said, with a sharp look to G'Kar.
"Yours and his," G'Kar said promptly. "However, he is gone, and I don't think you'll be helping anyone with histrionics. There will be an investigation, but getting angry at the men in this room will not expedite it, nor will it create anything resembling the proper atmosphere for an investigation."
"Thank you for understanding, Citizen G'Kar," Durla said. G'Kar fired him a look that froze the words of thanks in his throat.
"I don't want, or need, your appreciation, Minister. What I want is your cooperation ... and yours, Mr. Ambassador. If you desire the continuation of anything remotely approaching normal relations between your people and the Alliance..."
"Normal relations?" At that, Vir laughed bitterly. "Look, G'Kar, I hate to remind you, but at the moment `normal' translates as `We're watched for the slightest hint of aggressive behavior, so that people like you can be sent down to monitor us ... and have something like this happen as a result.'" With that he indicated Welch's corpse.
G'Kar took a step toward Vir, studying him very carefully, as if dissecting him with his eye.
"We are depending upon you to help us handle this matter, Ambassador. For what it is worth ... I have always had a great deal of respect for you."
More harshly than G'Kar or Garibaldi would have expected, Vir replied, "Let us be candid, Citizen. You dripped blood at my feet to symbolize dead Narn, as if it were my fault. No one in this galaxy ever made me feel smaller than you did at that moment. So you'll excuse me when I tell you that your claim to have respect for me ... well, that isn't worth much at all."
There didn't seem anything that Garibaldi or G'Kar could say in response to that. Instead, Garibaldi looked down once more at Welch, then rested a hand on his cold shoulder, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Lou." Then he and G'Kar left without a backward glance.
"Tragic," said Durla, shaking his head sadly. "Most tragic."
"Minister ... I'd like to be left alone with him for a time." Vir glanced at Durla, then at the coroner. "If you wouldn't mind."
"Alone? Why?" asked the coroner. "I knew this man," Vir said. "He was a friend, after a fashion. I'd ... like to say some prayers. They're personal. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course I do," said Durla, who looked as if he didn't, but wasn't inclined to argue. "Will you be coming by the palace during your stay? Say hello to Mariel, perhaps?"
"Perhaps," said Vir.
"Thank you."
The two Centauri exited the morgue, leaving Vir alone with Welch. He stared down at the dead man, shaking his head in silence.
"How did you get here so quickly?" It was Finian who spoke, having practically materialized at Vir's elbow. He was carrying a staff, which Vir hadn't seen him doing before. Fortunately enough, by this stage in Vir's life, it was becoming almost impossible to startle him. He merely stared at the techno-mage, and said, "Did the coroner see you enter?" Finian gave him a look as if to say,
Oh, please.
Deciding that pretty much served as an answer, Vir continued, "What do you mean, how did I get here so quickly?"
"I mean I sent a message to Babylon 5 only a short while ago, telling you what had happened. How did you manage to travel the distance so quickly?"
"I didn't get your message," Vir replied. "I..." Before he spoke more, he reflexively glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Then he continued, albeit in a lower voice, "I had already left Babylon 5. Mariel contacted me privately the moment she learned that G'Kar and Garibaldi were here. She felt it would be best if I was here while they were here. I think she was right, although I doubt she was expecting anything like this." He looked up at Finian. "So what happened? You wouldn't be here if you didn't have some idea."
"He had been using Shadow technology."
"Shadow technology?" Vir could scarcely comprehend it. "Where would he get that?"
"I don't know," admitted Finian. "Might have been happenstance. Most likely it was. He used a transparency web. It gave him limited invisibility. The use of it in the city drew me to him, and I arrived in time to see his body being hauled out of a building. I followed the people who were dumping him."
"What building? Can you take me to it?"
"Yes," Finian said distractedly. "It appeared to be a stronghold for those charming lads you refer to as the Prime Candidates."
Vir moaned. That was not news he had wanted to hear. The Prime Candidates – the servants of Durla, the pets of Lione. This was not going to be easy.
"He found out something, didn't he."
"I expect that he did."
"I wish we could find out what it was."
Finian was silent for a moment, and then he said, "There... is a way."
"What? What way?" Finian turned to him and said slowly, "The brain ... is one of the greatest technological marvels of nature. Still, in the the final analysis, it is simply a computer. And data can be downloaded from any computer... even one which has crashed."
"You can ... you can extract that information from him? Even though he's gone?"
"In theory, yes. I've never done such a thing myself... but I know the technique. I simply ... wish I didn't have to. Gwynn or Galen could do this with much greater equanimity than I could. But Galen has his own problems involving Captain Gideon, and Gwynn is attending to other business. So I'm afraid that I am it."
"Is it difficult?"
"A bit. I did bring a bit of help," he said, gripping the staff a bit more tightly.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yes. Keep the coroner out of here."
"Of course," Vir said matter-of-factly. "This will take a few minutes. I don't need him in here."
"All right."
"Oh, and before you go, hand me that cutting tool, if you would." Vir did as he was asked, then headed out to the coroner. The coroner, for his part, seemed perfectly inclined to head back into the morgue, and Vir did the fast thing that occurred to him: he broke down in sobs.
"Great Maker ... were you close with that fellow?" asked the coroner. "I love him like a brother!" Vir cried out. He didn't even bother with the nearby chair; he simply sank down onto the floor, weeping piteously. Finding a source of tears wasn't all that difficult for him. All he had to draw upon was everything that had happened to him, and everything that he had done in the past several years, and the misery welled up effortlessly. Summoning tears was not a problem; for Vir, it was restraining them on a day-to-day basis that had been the challenge. Consequently, Vir managed to keep the coroner occupied with finding a sedative that would calm Vir's nerves. The fellow finally located something and handed it to Vir, who popped it in his mouth gratefully and lodged it securely in his cheek so that he wouldn't swallow it. When the coroner turned away from him for a moment, Vir spat it into his hand and stashed it in his pocket.
"Are you feeling better?" the coroner asked him at last. Vir nodded, but he still had that air of tragedy draped around him. "I am so sorry you have to endure this," said the coroner. "You, Ambassador, are a soul in pain."
"Yes. I know," Vir said with utter sincerity.
"You need a drink. Come ... I'll close early today, and we will go out and speak of happier things." At which point, the coroner rose and started to head into the examination room. "No, wait!" Vir called out. "Uhm ... stay here, just a few minutes, until the medicine kicks in!"