Out of the Darkness (31 page)

"No," she said forcefully. "No. This future can be changed only by surrendering to the Shadows, and that price is too high to pay."

The door opened. She knew that it was their time. She knew they were going to be brought to their execution.

"But we have a son ..." Sheridan said. There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

"Yes. David..."

"Out!" the guard barked. "Now!"

She held him close, and then they faced the light. They walked to the door and through it, out into the hallway. Sheridan held her close ...

... and staggered.

"John?" she said, and then more alarmed, "John!"

He collapsed, and at that moment, another guard – a more highly ranked one – strode down the hall and called out in annoyance, "New orders. The emperor said to wait an hour!"

"Why an hour?"

"Who knows?"

There was some muttering that Delenn couldn't quite make out, although the words "crazy old man" might have been bandied about. At that moment, though, she cared about nothing except her fallen husband. "Please... he needs help," she said.

"Why? You're both going to die soon anyway," one of the guards pointed out, but they helped Delenn and Sheridan back toward their cell.

At that moment, Sheridan suddenly roared, "No!" His eyes were wild; there was nothing but confusion in them. And for a moment she thought she actually saw some sort of glow around him. Instantly she realized what was happening; it was some sort of temporal backlash. The Sheridan of the past and the present were, in some way and on some level, colliding. They were struggling for possession of the one form.

And it was nearly tearing them apart.

Sheridan's knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor of the cell. Delenn instantly fell at his side, pulling him to her, but he had passed out. "John... it will be all right... I swear to you, it will," she whispered over and over again as the cell door slammed behind them, their destiny postponed a short time longer. And as she kept assuring him that all would be fine, she thought bleakly,
Who says Minbari never lie?

EXCERPTED FROM
THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.

Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date)
January 2, 2278 (final entry).

Note to historians: This is the one entry of the emperor's chronicles that is not strictly from his physical chronicles. It is a combination of written notes he was making at the time that he dictated his history of Babylon 5, and audio records that were made secretly, by the emperor himself, at the time. It is believed that, knowing his final hours were upon him, he was taking extensive pains to leave as thorough an accounting as possible. That would be in keeping with the character of Londo Mollari, who – as anecdotal evidence indicates – had dreamt of this moment for so large a portion of his adult life that he likely considered it the defining moment of his existence. We of the Centauri Historical Institute believe that what follows is an accurate depiction of the emperor's state of mind. It has been approved by Emperor Vir Cotto for inclusion into the historical records, and we wish to believe that Londo Mollari himself would likewise have endorsed it as accurate.

I looked at the lady Senna, and in a low voice, a voice that might once have been alluring when spoken by a young and handsome man, I said to her, "Dear lady... I would love to walk with you on a beach... somewhere. For just five minutes." I felt tears welling in my eyes, and I fought them back. It was the single greatest battle of my life. "How strange... to have come this far, and to want so little."

I turned away from her, for I did not know how much longer I could keep my eyes dry. A dear, sweet woman. Two lovely children. They could have been mine. They are the life I turned away – from the life of a different man... a lucky man.

"Children." My voice was low and hoarse. "Will you remember this story? Will you remember me?"

"All my life, Majesty," Luc said in wonderment.

I nodded. It would have to suffice. "Then go."

But Luc suddenly seemed less than willing to depart. "What happened to Sheridan and Delenn?" he asked. "What about the end of the story?"

"Sheridan," I said slowly, "became the president of a great alliance, Delenn ever at his side. And the story... is not over yet. The story is never over. Now go."

Senna took one child in each hand, and she started to head out of the room. Then the girl, Lyssa, stopped, and inquired, "Did they live happily ever after?"

"Lyssa!" Senna said in surprise.

"Did they live happily ever after?" she repeated more insistently.

"That... remains to be seen," I said after a moment.

And as Senna ushered them out... I remembered her. For a brief moment, I remembered who Senna was... and then it was gone.

As was she.

I used a spy device to watch Delenn and Sheridan in a tearful reunion down in their cell. Very moving.

Not everything was in place, though. Not everything was ready. Everything had to be done just right.

I picked up a bell I and rang it. Moments later, I said to the guard standing there in response to it, "I need another bottle. I will need several more bottles. Then wait one hour... and bring the prisoners here."

He nodded and left me alone... a state to which I have become accustomed. Sometimes I think I have been alone my entire life.

I had a bit of one bottle left, and I emptied the contents into a glass. I raised it and said, "To the future... my old friends." And I drained the contents.

I heard footsteps, and I recognized the stride. How could I not? After all these years, it was impossible for me not to. I looked up and there he was, holding several bottles on a tray. I waggled my fingers, and said, "Come here."

Vir approached me. He had obviously encountered the guard returning with the drinks and decided to bring them to me himself. Whether the guard had turned the drinks over willingly or not, I did not know... or particularly care at that moment.

There was so much to be said between us... but it was necessary to concentrate purely on matters of historical record. "You will drink with me, Vir?" I asked.

"No, if it's all the same to you," he said. I think of the old days, when his voice always seemed to have a slight tremor to it. No more. Now he speaks with confidence ... and just a hint of perpetual sadness.

"I have decided to work on a history, Vir. And I have decided that you will write it with me."

"I will?" He seemed most surprised. Of all the things he probably thought we would discuss, I doubt this was listed among them.

"Oh, yes. It will be quite comprehensive. Unfortunately, I do not think I will have overmuch time to complete it. I would like your help in achieving that. You were there for most of it. I think you are fit to do the job. If you wish, you may put your name first in the credits. For I strongly suspect, you see, that it will be published posthumously."

"I see," he said.

"I shall spend the next hour," I told him, as I proceeded to pour a drink, "giving you some details... some highlights... for I have been discussing it at length recently, and it is all fresh in my mind. You may record it however you wish. Expand upon it, put it into chronological order at your convenience. Then you will leave me, for I will meet with Sheridan and Delenn."

"Are you... are you..." He could not even frame the words. I shook my head.

"I... do not wish to discuss it, Vir, for reasons I cannot explain at the moment. For I am watched, you see, all the time... even here. So let us instead discuss matters of scholarship... and let the rest sort itself out.

"And Vir... you will let the people know. Let them know there was to be more than a world in flames. That there was supposed to be... should have been... greatness. With all the sacrifices, with all the people who have died, you would think we were entitled to that.

"You will carry on for me, Vir. It will be among the last orders I give. You will carry on and tell the story to others. It will be uplifting ... or a warning ... or simply a rather Byzantine adventure, depending upon how it's told and who is listening, I would imagine. And in this way, the story will never end. You will do this thing for me, Vir?"

With true tragedy in his voice, he replied, "Of course I will."

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you, my old friend." I patted him on the hand and leaned back, feeling the warmth of the liquor already beginning to fill me. I shall drink myself into oblivion... and shortly thereafter, my soul will follow.

Vir waited for me to speak. He had found a recording device, and held it in his hand. "Where... where do you wish to start?" he asked. Where to start? Where else, of course? In the beginning... I looked out upon the burning remains of Centauri Prime, steadied my hand so that I could permit the liquid to cascade down my throat...

... and I began to speak. "I was there, at the dawn of the Third Age of Mankind. It began in the Earth year 2257 with the founding of the last of the Babylon stations, located deep in neutral space. It was a port of call for refugees, smugglers, businessmen, diplomats, and travelers from a hundred worlds. It could be a dangerous place, but we accepted the risk because Babylon 5 was our last, best hope for peace... It became a dream given form... a dream of a galaxy without war, where species from different worlds could live side by side in mutual respect... a dream that was endangered as never before by the arrival of one man on a mission of destruction. Babylon 5 was the last of the Babylon stations. This is its story..."

I had such dreams. Such dreams...

C
HAPTER 24

His clothes were tattered... one eye was missing, replaced by a black cloth... and he had been beaten so thoroughly in recent days that almost every step was agony. And yet G'Kar carried himself so tall, so proudly, that one might have thought at first glance that the guards surrounding him were at his service, rather than acting as his captors.

But G'Kar was nothing short of astounded when the guards led him to the throne room ... then stopped at the door. Under normal circumstances they would be flanking him, front and back, to make sure there was no way that he could spring at the emperor in some improbable fit of fury. But this time, it was not the case.

They were allowing him to go in unescorted.

One of the guards saw the puzzled look in G'Kar's good eye. "Emperor's orders," he said, matter-of-factly.

G'Kar nodded and stepped through the door. He had no idea what to expect. For some reason he thought that perhaps there was going to be a firing squad on the other side. The shooters would yell, "Surprise!" and then open fire, and that would be that.

He was, however, quite wrong. Instead there was the throne room, utterly devoid of retainers, guards, and such... except for two people. One of them he had expected to see. The other he had not.

There was a small table set up, and seated at it were Londo Mollari and Vir Cotto. There were several empty bottles and glasses on it. It seemed a phenomenal amount of alcohol to have ingested, even by Londo's standards. There was still a partially filled bottle. There was also a bowl of fruit, half consumed. Londo had just finished saying something about Delenn, and suddenly he was seized with a racking cough. Vir, for his part, didn't even seem to notice. Instead, he looked up at G'Kar and nodded slightly in greeting.

G'Kar hadn't quite recognized Vir at first. He looked so much older and so careworn. G'Kar made the traditional Narn gesture of greeting.

"That," Londo said, coughing, "is what we need."

Vir looked at him in confusion. "What is, Londo?"

"A way of saying hello. The Narn, they have that business with fist and chest... the Minbari, with their fingers as triangles ... what do we do?" He waggled his fingers. Then he shook his head. "Pathetic. Truly. Perhaps we deserved our fate on that basis alone. Sit, G'Kar. Sit. Vir ... I need you to do two final things for me."

"Whatever you need, Londo." G'Kar saw such sadness in Vir, he could barely conceive what it must have been like for him.

"I want you to go to my private chambers. There is a hidden place, behind my writing desk. In the wall. Volumes are stored there. Chronicles of my life as emperor. I think you will find them ... illuminating. Combine them with what I have told you and..." He stopped and coughed for a full thirty seconds before he managed to pull himself together. His voice was hoarse and scratchy; he sounded as if he had been speaking for hours. Every word sounded as if it was taking effort. "... combine them ... and tell others of me. Because otherwise I will be forgotten ... and I do not think that I would like that."

"Because your heroic efforts deserve to be immortalized?" G'Kar could not resist asking.

But Londo looked up at him with a baleful stare that carried with it not a hint of irony. "No. Because stupidity as monumental as mine should be enshrined so that others may learn. Vir... the second thing..."

"Yes?"

"Once you have them... leave. Leave and do not look back. Do not return until it is safe ... if ever. And watch the shadows ... sometimes, when you're not watching... they move. I have struck a bargain of sorts to preserve your life. If I had not, you would have been dead moments after you set foot in my presence. But I do not expect that it will be honored beyond my death... which, I suspect, will come soon."

Vir nodded, and G'Kar wondered if he understood what Londo was talking about. Vir started to head out, and G'Kar wanted to say something, because he had the oddest feeling that he was never going to see Vir again. "Cotto," he called out.

Vir Cotto turned and waited politely for G'Kar to speak.

G'Kar gave it a moment's thought, and then said, "Never mind. It will come to me later."

Vir laughed softly at that.

And then he was gone.

It was just the two of them.

As Vir made his way hurriedly down the corridor toward Londo's private chambers, he ran into Senna coming in the opposite direction. They stopped, facing each other. For a moment, there seemed a gap between them that no amount of effort or emotion could possibly bridge.