Armies of Light and Dark (9 page)

"And are you going to just let it happen?"

"I will do what I can. All that I can."

"That may not be enough!"

"And what will you do, Vir Cotto?" Galen demanded abruptly. "Will Centauri Prime reveal its duplicity in this matter? Inform the Alliance of its involvement with the locating of the gate that led the Drakh to the weapons they craved? Leave itself open to charges of being accomplice to attempted mass murder? Will you do all that can be done, Vir Cotto ... or will you simply do all that you can do?" Vir looked away then. Galen was simply saying things that had already occurred to Vir, but he was loath to admit it. With billions of lives on the line, Vir's main concem still remained avoiding any threat to Centauri Prime and its largely innocent people. "I will take that as my answer," Galen said icily. "Be aware, Ambassador ... whatever hostility you may feel for the Shadows, their servants and their ... technology ... pales beside my own."

"I doubt that," Vir told him.

Galen smiled slightly.

"Doubt is always to be preferred in all things. Very well, Vir Cotto. I will wave my magic wand, and goof! Centauri Prime will have no association with this business. I've already dispatched the unfortunate artifact your excavation uncovered. I've covered your tracks for you."

Surprised, Vir pointed at the fallen rubble that had once been the Shadow gate.

"You did that?"

"Of course I did."

"I thought techno-mages couldn't use their abilities to destroy. That's what they told me," and he indicated Gwynn and Finian.

"That is true ... for them," said Galen. "Then again, there are always ... possibilities."

"And is saving the Earth and Minbar among those possibilities?" The thought that the Homeworlds of Delenn or Sheridan, or both, might be annihilated was horrifying to Vir, and the knowledge of Centauri Prime's culpability was almost too much to bear. At least, however, that would remain his burden and his alone, with any luck. Some luck.

"It is ... a possibility. A distinct one. And you, Vir Cotto ... take solace in the awareness that, without your involvement, it could have been far, far worse. So much so that it would not have mattered whether Centauri Prime's involvement became general knowledge or not. For truly, there would have been no worlds in the Alliance left to care." Without another word, Galen turned away from him and started to walk off. Vir looked around, still unsure as to what was to happen next.

Finian rested a hand on Vir's shoulder then, and said, "Leave it in Galen's hands. He will attend to it, if any can. None are more dedicated to eliminating Shadow technology than he. As for you, Vir..." and his lips thinned. "Nice disguise."

Vir realized that he was still wearing the mask that he'd been handed earlier. Feeling sheepish, he pulled it off his face.

Galen shook his head with an imperious air, and then said, "Go home, Vir Cotto."

"Home." Vir shook his head. "You don't understand. I have no home. Centauri Prime will have no dealings with me, and Babylon 5... if I never see the place again..."

"Then it would be a waste of possibilities," Gwynn said.

"What sort of possibilities?"

"For starters," Finian said, "there is still work to do. You may feel you are no longer welcome on Centauri Prime, and you are likely right. However, you remain Ambassador to Babylon 5. They are not likely to replace you; they consider the position a waste, and so will not bother to fritter away manpower. And the ambassador of Babylon 5 can still get things done. You have contacts from the past ... and from the present, have you not?"

Vir thought about Rem Lanas, and about Renegar, both of whom had certainly gained a degree of respect for Vir as a result of this debacle. He had warned them of what was to come. They would remember that. They would know to attend to what he said. They would know to trust him, as much as anyone trusted anyone these days. And there had been other allies, free-minded and freethinking Centauri – many of them rather young – who had provided aid when Vir had sought to surreptitiously help the Narn during the war. Moments earlier, he had felt so alone, and yet he was starting to realize that such was not the case. It was just that he had tied so much of his belief in his power and influence to Londo. And when Londo had turned him away, why, that seemed to be that. But it wasn't necessarily the case, as long as Vir didn't allow it to be. Granted, his self-esteem and image among others in the Alliance had been dealt a vicious blow by his duplicitous lover, Mariel ... but she could be overcome, as well. Perhaps even used in a manner that would be to his advantage. There were indeed possibilities, if he was willing to see them.

"Yes," Vir said slowly, his mind racing. "Yes, I have ... contacts."

"We will be in touch, then."

Vir nodded, the words not fully registering at first. Then they did. He turned and said, "And when you're in touch, what will you..."

They were gone. Finian. Gwynn. The one called Galen. And the ship. The ship that had been his ride.

"What am I supposed to do? Walk back to Babylon 5?" Vir demanded. But there was no one there to reply. Then, physically and mentally, he shrugged. The bottom line was that techno-mages, even cloister techno-mages, still bothered the hell out of him. He would find other means of getting back to Babylon 5 ... and then, why, then the work would truly begin. The work that would lead him to... What? What would it lead him to? He had told Londo Mollari that he would remain his friend... even if he became his enemy. He had the disturbing feeling that his continued activities would lead him to that point sooner than he wanted, and he would find out whether the sentiment he had expressed was, in fact, true. And he had a further disturbing feeling that he wasn't going to like what he found.

* * *

EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) January 9, 2268.

I believe the expression my former friend, Mr.Garibaldy, once used was "It has been some kind of party." That, I can assure you, it very much has been.

The festivities have been progressing on a nonstop fashion. Naturally, I cannot participate in them. In fact, officially I must scorn and condemn them, and such public rejection has prompted some reactions of outright hostility from my beloved people. After all, they expect uniform support from their emperor. How dare I imply that their rejoicing over the misfortune of others might somehow be inappropriate, or in a bad taste or – dare I say it – shortsighted. People have very little patience with that which they do not wish to hear. That again, considering the number of individuals who endeavored to sway me from the course that brought me to this cursed throne, I am certainly the last person who has any right to make such observations, eh?

As of this writing, it has been one Earth week, or perhaps two, since the unleashing of the Drakh plague upon the hapless Earth. I am not certain precisely how long it has been, since I have spent much of the time in an alcoholic haze.

As always, this is partly motivated by the presence of my little friend and his intolerance for liquor. But it also represents my nominal participation in the fever of celebration that has gripped Centauri Prime and has plunged it into an orgy of rejoicing. Such actions are always risky, for they have an unfortunate habit of attracting the notice of Fate and her damnable sisters, Poetic Justice and Irony.

For years now, Centauri Prime has grown more and more isolationist. We have spun a cocoon around ourselves, posted large metaphorical signs that have instructed others to keep away from us. If the Interstellar Alliance has desired to have no congress with us, we have had equally as much antipathy for them.

As is always the case when a people draw inward, we have examined ourselves spiritually, as well as politically. We have sought answers, tried to determine just how and why such an unfortunate and vile fate as being bombed to the edge of oblivion had been visited upon us. There were some who said rather loudly, and quite frequently, that our willingness to consort with "lesser" races had brought the wrath of the Great Maker upon us. We had allowed ourselves to become weak, our purpose to become diluted. The fact that no one could quite agree on just what that purpose might be did not seem to deter the philosophy. The Alliance had assaulted us because it was the Great Makers will. What an odd combination of paranoia and spiritual resignation that was.

But there was another side to that reasoning. A side that said that, if we were willing to rededicate ourselves to the worship of the Great Maker, the rebuilding of Centauri Prime, and an understanding that the only friend of Centauri could be other Centauri, why ... then it was possible that the Great Maker might smile upon us once more. In doing so, he might very well lead us to renewed greatness. Most importantly, he would smite our enemies with his wrath and with his mighty hand it was partly to that end that.

Minister Durla installed his former teacher of religion, one Vallko by name, into the newly created position of minister of spirituality. It was a ludicrous concept for a post, I thought, and I was quite sure that there would be an outcry. I was correct. I am always correct. It is a curse I live under. Well ... one of many.

Unfortunately, the outcry was one of uniform approval, and many were certain that a new and definitively positive step had been taken toward improving the lot of the poor, beleaguered residents of Centauri Prime. Minister Durla was perfectly willing to support Vallko's tenure by making attendance at spiritual meetings mandatory for the citizenry. But it was not necessary. Vallko's services are invariably packed, the temples creaking at the doors, or at least I am told that it is so.

I have not attended any. Minister Durla scolds me for this. Let him. My response to him is that, if the Great Maker is everywhere, why is he any more at Minister Vallkos temple than in the throne room? Indeed, he has more reason to be in the throne room, for that is where the true power of Centauri Prime resides, and it is there that the Great Maker can and should have the most influence. It may be, however, that I say this with less forcefulness than I would like, probably because we both know it to be nonsense. The power lies elsewhere.

Durla, of course, thinks that it lies with him, and I'm certain he thinks I am foolish enough to believe that it resides in my hands. It is, in fact, Durla who is the fool, but I am disinclined to inform him of his ... misapprehension. Still, Durla does what Durla will. He never misses one of Vallko's services, of course. He likely reasons that it is wise to be seen there, and in that he is quite possibly correct. By being perceived as a regular constituent of Vallko's, he allies himself – by extension – with the Supreme Being. It is and one that I can appreciate since it was the sort of thing I would once have done. After all, it was hardly long ago that I endeavored to make it appear as it I was receiving a blessing from the techno-mages. I did so to boost myself up the ladder of power. It is difficult for me to believe that I now look back upon those occasions as times of innocence.

The news of the misfortune that befell Earth came during one of Vallko's spiritual gatherings. By all accounts, the place went mad with joy. It took long moments for Vallko to calm the assemblage, and his next words were extremely canny and well chosen. What he said was this:

"It is not fit, or meet, or responsible for Centauri to rejoice in the misfortunes of others. Throughout our history, we have dealt with other races with compassion, always with compassion. Granted, there have been races that did not see that compassion for what it was, and rebelled. The Narn, naturally, come to mind. In dealing with them, however – in dealing with any who operated in a manner contrary to the interests of the great Centauri Republic – we did exactly what we had to do. No more and no less.

"And we never, under any circumstances, took joy in the destruction of lives or the annihilation of others. Pride, yes, we took pride, and that is natural and to be expected, for the Great Maker wishes us to take pride in our accomplishments. When we perform an act of greatness, we are doing so in his name and are honoring him.

"But simply taking pleasure in the pain and suffering of others ... that, my good friends, is not appropriate. Instead ... we shall pray. And the prayer should continue for days, as many days as we of Centauri Prime wish to pursue it. For you see, when they assaulted us, the Alliance transgressed against the chosen people of the Great Maker. They angered the Great Maker. Now they have paid the price. We cannot and must not, of course, ask the Great Maker to relent in his anger against them, for who are we to question his will? He does what he must, as do we all. So instead, my good, dear friends ... we will pray that the Great Maker gives guidance to the poor souls of Earth. That he makes them, and their allies, realize the error of their ways. For if they do, then the Great Maker will spare them the suffering that they will otherwise have to endure. In fact, he will be happy to spare them, for ultimately the Great Maker is a being of kindness ... as are we, for were we not made in his image?

"Pray then, my friends. Pray in a loud and sustained manner. Raise your voices and make a joyful noise unto the Great Maker so that he will hear you and know that you are sincere."

It was brilliant, the way he handled it, truly. As repulsive as I find those who manipulate the words and spirit of the Great Maker for their own ends, I must admit that people like Vallko have a style and ingenuity that I can only envy. Centauri Prime wanted to rejoice over the misfortune of the Humans. But the Humans still have many friends and staunch allies, none of whom would take kindly to the good people of Centauri Prime throwing a very loud, very raucous, and very premature celebration over the demise of everyone who had the misfortune to be stuck on the planet Earth when the Drakh virus was unleashed. So instead Vallko found a way for the Centauri to vent their sentiments without bringing the ill feelings – and possibly the wrath – of other races down upon us. The celebration would commence at Vallkos direction, and it would be as boisterous as could be.