Long Night Of Centauri Prime

  Chapter 7 "Vir! Viiu:ir!" Londo's greeting of him was big and boisterous and not at all what Vir had expected. Then again, there was a large party going on, and in that sort of environment Londo was most definitely in his element. It was all quite exciting for Vir. Certainly he had attended enough parties, particularly in Londo's presence. The Londo of old was something of a magnet for such festivities. Many were the revelries that he was able to recall on Babylon 5, although admittedly his memory of some of them was recalled through a bit of a haze. A pleasant haze, but a haze nonetheless. But this ... this was a party in the court! For all that Vir had been through-for all of the secret plots, and his own hideous involvement in such dire schemes as assassinations-he had never truly left behind the relatively innocent individual that he once had been. And that individual was the fool of the Cotto clan, the embarrassment, the one who was never going to amount to anything. When he had been shunted away to Babylon 5, to serve as aide to the equally despised Londo Mollari, it had simply been the latest insult in a life laden with insults. To be part of the court, to rub elbows with the movers and shakers of Centauri rank and society ... inwardly he still felt a sort of disbelief over how everything had turned out. This was not how it was supposed to go for Vir Cotto. He was 83 supposed to eke out an existence, and try not to get into anyone's way. That had been the entirety of his aspirations. So to be arriving in court, to be able to hold his head high ... he still felt as if he had to pinch himself to make certain that he wasn't dreaming it all. That was how he felt, even though he knew that the dream had its dark, nightmarish side. Yes, he knew that all too well. The grand reception hall was alive with activity. There was song and dance and merriment. A scantily clad dancing girl bumped up against Vir and smiled ... at him ... in a most sultry manner before pirouetting of thin veils trailing from her hands. Waiters bearing an assortment of gourmet tidbits converged on him from all sides, almost stumbling over one another to serve him. People were dressed in the most glorious finery, chatting and laughing and acting as if they had not a care in the world. "Vir!" Londo shouted once more and began to make his way through the crowd. When one is the emperor, such an action is far less taxing than it would be for others. The crowd magically melted before him to make way, closing itself behind him as he passed. It gave him the appearance of being a great ship moving through the ocean. The ship of state, Vir told himself. Londo was holding a drink. He passed one nobleman and, without hesitation, plucked the drink from the man's hand and bore it toward Vir. It took a moment for it to register on the nobleman, but when he realized who it was who had absconded with his drink, he simply gestured toward one of the wandering waiters and signaled that another would be required. "Vir! I must tell you a riddle!" Londo said as he thrust the glass into Vir's hand. Several things were tumbling about in Vir's head: to thank Londo for the drink; to tell him he didn't need it; to tell Londo that he, Londo, was looking quite well; to tell him that he was pleased that he had been invited to this get-together. All of this occurred to him, but was promptly washed away by the unexpected declaration. "A ... riddle?" "Yes! Yes, it is quite clever. Senna told it to me. Clever girl, our young lady." "Yes, you've told me about her. Tragic thing, the loss of her teach-" "Do you want to hear this riddle or not?" Londo demanded. "Oh ... absolutely, yes." Vir bobbed his head. Londo draped an arm around Vir's shoulders, bringing his face closer. The smell of alcohol was even more pungent than usual. "What is greater than the Great Maker more frightening than a Shadow ship ... the poor have it ... the rich need it ... and if you eat it, you die." Vir silently mouthed the elements of the riddle, then shook his head. "I give up." "You give up!" Londo sounded almost outraged. "You give up? That is your problem, Vir. That has always been your problem. You give up, far too quickly. You have to give things thought, Vir. Even if you do not succeed, you have to at least try! "All ... all right. Let me think. Greater than the Great Ma-" His thought process was promptly interrupted when a voice from at his elbow said, "Ambassador. What a pleasure it is to see you." Vir turned and saw Durla standing there. He had seen the man before in passing, but not since Durla had been promoted to the ministry. Durla had never really registered on Vir, back when he was captain of the guards. But now that he was seeing him, really seeing him for the first time, he sensed that this was a man to watch out for. "And 1, you, Minister," Vir replied easily. "How nice that you were able to get away from Babylon 5 to attend this little celebration. I'm sure you've been very busy there." Vir watched Londo's gaze flicker from Durla to Vir and back. He seemed curiously content to watch the two of them converse. It was as if Londo had something very specific he wanted to see accomplished, but Vir could not for the life of him imagine what that might be. The last thing that Vir was interested in doing was getting into some sort of verbal sparring match with with Durla just because it might suit Londo's purposes , whatever those might be. Nevertheless, there was something in Durla's tone and attitude that Vir couldn't help but consider off-putting. It wasn't in the words so much, but in the condescending voice attached to it. "Oh, yes ... yes, I've been very busy," Vir said. "I'm sure. Although," Durla continued, "the true future of the Centauri Republic would lay, I think, with what is developing on Centauri Prime, rather than on a hunk of metal light-years away. A place that is the base of operations for an Alliance that is dedicated to wiping the Centauri off the face of creation, eh?" "Minister," Vir said carefully, "with all respect, if the Interstellar Alliance were `dedicated' to it, I doubt we'd be all standing here right now, in an intact palace, enjoying this quite wonderful wine. Excuse me!" he called to a passing waiter, indicating with a gesture that he could use a refill. Vir normally wasn't a drinker, but in recent years he had driven his tolerance level up, just through practice. A lengthy association with Londo Mollari tended to do that. As the waiter scurried off to fulfill Vir's request, he added, "Keep in mind, Minister, that I'm posted on Babylon 5. I've known the president of the Alliance for a great many years. I wouldn't presume to comment on what I've heard goes on here, so you might want to consider carefully your own sentiments when speaking about the Alliance." "And what have you heard `goes on' here?" Durla asked with one eyebrow slightly raised in curiosity. Vir looked down and saw that the next drink was in his hand, as if it had materialized there by magic. He downed half of it in one gulp. He had a feeling that this evening, he was going to need it. "Oh, crazy rumors. People disappearing. Our more moderate politicians losing face, losing power ... losing lives. And all of them being replaced by associates of yours." "You overestimate me, Mr. Ambassador," Durla said, sounding quite sincerely modest. "Granted, I tend to recommend to the emperor people whom I know to be trustworthy. But since Internal Security is within my purview, naturally it would make sense to bring in those who I know will be loyal to the Republic." "Don't you mean, to you?" "I say what I mean, Ambassador," Durla replied, unperturbed . "In point of fact, it is the emperor who is the living incarnation of the spirit of the Centauri Republic. If I am to be concerned about loyalties to anyone in particular, it should be to him." "How very gracious of you, Minister," Londo finally spoke up. "These are, after all, dangerous times. It is difficult to know whom we can trust." "Absolutely true," Durla said. He clapped Vir on the shoulder . "I believe that I may have given you the wrong impression , Ambassador. May my tongue snap off if I say something that gives you a moment's concern." "Now that's something I'd pay to see," Vir said. Apparently missing the sarcasm, Durla continued, "Ultimately , we all want the same thing. A restoration of Centauri Republic to the arena of interstellar greatness we once enjoyed." "We do?" "Of course, Ambassador!" Durla said, as if he were stating a given. "At this point in time, to many, we are nothing but a joke. A beaten, fallen foe. Entire systems are allied against us and would keep us down. Once. . . once they quivered in fear at the very mention of our name. Now ... they quiver with laughter." "Terrible," intoned Londo, as if he'd had the conversation a thousand times before. Vir couldn't help but notice that Londo was putting away liquor at somewhere
around triple the rate that Vir was maintaining. Indeed, faster than anyone in the place, it seemed. "A terrible thing." "And even now, as we rebuild, as we break our backs to settle the `reparations' while we try to restore our own pride ... they watch over us. They treat us as we once treated the Narns. Now what would you call that?" "Poetic justice?" ventured Vir. As if Vir had not spoken-indeed, Durla probably hadn't even heard him-Durla answered his own question. "Insults! Insult piled upon insult! The potential for greatness still lives within Centauri Prime, still burns like a fever within the bodies of our people." "Aren't fevers generally considered a bad thing?" Vir asked. "You know ... sometimes you die from them. . ." "And sometimes they bring greater clarity of vision," said Durla. "I usually just get headaches." "We walked among the stars," Durla said forcefully. "When you have had the stars, how are you supposed to content yourself with the dirt beneath your feet? Do you know what I want for my people, Ambassador? Do you want to know the truth? I want my people to reclaim their rightful place in the galaxy. I want to see the Centauri stretch forth their hand again and command the stars. I want a rebirth of glory. I want us to be what we used to be. Does that seem too much to ask, Ambassador?" It was Londo who replied, swirling a drink around in his glass and staring down at it. "No," he said softly. "No ... it does not seem too much to ask at all." Durla was about to continue, but someone called his name from over on the other side of the room. Apparently some sort of friendly dispute was going on, and Durla was being asked to come and settle it. He bowed quickly and graciously to Vir and Londo, and headed off. Several more officials came toward Londo, clamoring for his attention, but Londo waved them away. Instead he placed a hand on the small of Vir's back and said, "Come, walk with me, Vir. Catch me up on all the latest developments." "Well, here's a late development: I do not like him, Londo. This Durla. Not one bit." Vir was speaking in a whisper, albeit an angry one. "Durla? What is wrong with Durla?" Londo sounded almost shocked. "Look, don't take this wrong, but ... in some ways, he reminds me of you. That is, the way you used to be." "He doesn't remind me of me at all." "Are you kidding? All those things he was saying about what he wants us to be? Doesn't that sound like something you might have said once?" "No. I never would have said any such thing." Vir rolled his eyes in annoyance as Londo guided him down one of the large corridors. "Where are we going?" he asked. "On a tour. Much work has been done on the palace since you were last here." He glanced at Vir. His vision appeared a bit bleary. "So let me understand this: you say that Durla reminds you of me, and on that basis you don't like him. I suppose I should be insulted, no?" "When I first met you, back then you ... well, you were somewhat intimidating, Londo. And you had these visions for what the Centauri should be. And you. . ." "Fulfilled them," Londo said softly. "Yes. And millions died because of it." "Such harsh words. Do you judge me, Vir? You dare judge the emperor?" There was challenge in the words, but in the tone there was only interest. "I know you, Londo. Sometimes I think I know you better than anyone alive ... or at least, anyone who's left alive. He shares your dream, Londo. And look what became of it. Look at all the death, destruction, and tragedy that arose from it." "The road to one's destiny is never a smooth one, Vir. There are always bumps along the way. . ." "Bumps! Londo, we slaughtered the Narns! We spread a reign of terror! And that sin came back to revisit us a hundredfold ! Those actions came solely because of the kind of thinking that Durla is standing there spouting! When are we going to learn, Londo? What's it going to take! The annihilation of every Centauri in the galaxy?" "Why are you asking me?" inquired Londo. "Do you know who you should ask? Rem Lanas." "I'm sorry ... what?" Vir felt as if the conversation had abruptly veered off at another angle completely. "Rein Lanas? Who is-" "He is on Babylon 5, as I recall. Has been for some time. Very wise individual. Do you know why you are here, Vir?" Vir was having trouble following the thread of whatever it was they were supposed to be talking about. "Well, I ... well, no, Londo, to be honest. I'm pleased that this party is being held, just because it's nice to see our people celebrating something-anything-even if it's just a group pat on the back to enjoy the reconstruction plans. But I'm not sure why you asked me specifically to come." "What are you insinuating, Vir?" "Insinuating? I . . ." He sighed. "Londo perhaps, well ... you may have had a little too much to drink. Because to be honest, you're not talking very sensibl-" "Could you possibly be implying," continued Londo, "that I couldn't speak to you via standard communications means if I desired to? That I'm worried about being unable to find a secure channel? That everything I say could be monitored by others? You're not saying that, are you, Vir?" Mr. Garibaldi had once used an expression that Vir had found most curious: he had spoken of "the dime dropping," as a means of indicating that someone had just realized something . It wasn't a term Vir completely understood, particuBabylon larly because he had no idea what a dime was, or where it might drop that would inspire in any way a moment of clarity. However, at that moment, as Vir listened-really listened- to what Londo was saying, he suddenly got a vague inkling as to what a dime dropping might mean to him personally. "No," Vir said very carefully. "I didn't intend to imply that at all." But he said it with such a careful tone of voice that he hoped to make it clear to Londo that he had grasped the subtext. The mists of emptiness that had clouded Londo's eyes up until that moment seemed to part, ever so briefly. He nodded wordlessly. Then he opened his mouth to speak once again ... ... and he staggered. "tondo?" Londo passed his face in front of his hands as if trying to brush away cobwebs, and when he lowered his hand there was an expression that seemed a combination of anger and resignation. "Building up your tolerance to alcohol, I see," he muttered. "Somewhat, yes," Vir said. "I wasn't talking to you." "But-" Londo suddenly switched his mood, sounding rather jovial again. "We have a superb gallery that is a tribute to previous emperors. We took existing statues and paintings, gathered them in one place-come, Vir! You should see it!" "Uhm ... all right. . ." Chatting with what seemed excessive cheer, Londo guided Vir to the end of the corridor, hung a sharp right, then a left, and led him into a very sizeable room. Just as Londo had boasted, the walls were lined with a most impressive array of paintings and sculptures, the latter ensconced on carefully crafted shelves inset into the walls. The first painting that naturally caught Vir's eye was Cartagia. Londo saw where Vir was looking, and echoed Vir's thoughts aloud: "Why is he here, eh?" Vir nodded. "He was insane, Londo. An ugly part of our history. He shouldn't be here with the others." "He has to be, Vir, because he is a part of history. If we do not recall that which we have done wrong, how can we be guided toward that which is right?" "Apparently not everyone can agree on what is right and wrong," Vir said ruefully, glancing over his shoulder as if worried that Durla was going to be standing right behind him. "You wouldn't be referring to Durla, would you? Calm yourself, Vir. His is not the only opinion out there." "One wouldn't know it to look at the people in that room. They-" "Vir ... it doesn't matter. Look at these paintings. Are they not lovely?" Vir was beginning to lose all patience with his emperor. "Yes, they're very lovely, but that's not the point----7' "Emperor Turhan . . ." Londo indicated one painting. "A great man." "A great man," sniffed Vir. "With his dying words, he urged us to attack the Nam. You should know, you were the one he whispered them ... to . . ." Vir's voice trailed off as he saw the expression on Londo's face. Once more, a dime dropped as he realized the awful secret Londo was hinting at ... that Turhan's last words were not words of war. "Londo. . ." "He died wanting peace with the Narn ... and said that we and Refa were damned. A wise man, that." He said it without any hint of anger. If anything, he sounded amused. But Vir was horrified. He took a step back, the blood draining from his face. "Londo ... Great Maker, Londo ... how could ... how could you-" Londo shrugged. "That's it? That's all the answer I get? A shrug? Londo, how ... how could you?" "I have heard that question a great many times in my life, Vir, and interestingly, the answer is always the same: Easily." Vir had absolutely no idea what to say. He had never before been rendered utterly speechless
by Londo. Londo, for his part, seemed utterly unperturbed by Vir's clear discomfiture. Instead he simply said, "We do what we must, Vir. We always do. All of us. Take Emperor Kran. Do you remember him, Vir? Do you recall what happened?" Vir's head was still spinning, as he tried to pull together all the fragments of what Londo had been saying. "Emperor Kran ... vaguely, yes. But that was before I was born, it-7, Londo had stopped in front of a bust of Kran. It was easily the smallest one in the room, as if its inclusion had almost been an afterthought. "Such a short-lived reign he had ... barely a footnote in our illustrious history. Ruler during a period of great transition. At the time, the Centauri houses were more fractured than ever before. The previo us emperor, Turis, had been quite weak-willed, and with his passing, all the houses had commenced fighting for power. It threatened to be a bloodbath. Poor Kran ... do you recall what happened to him?" "Yes, I think so. But-" "Sometimes it is possible to agree on what is right and wrong. And we would not want the wrong things to happen again. Not to anyone. Not to anyone, Vir. Do you hear me?" Londo's voice was rising with unexpected vehemence. "Do you hear me, Vir? Are you attending to the words coming out of my mouth?" "Yes, yes, of course." Vir felt more lost than ever. "Every word." "Good. I am glad we had this talk. It will be best for all of us. Come ... the party is progressing without us. We wouldn't want them to think that fun can be had without us in the room, eh? "Do you know what, Vir? And I want you to remember this: Everything around here, all that we have rebuilt, all the power at my command ... it makes me think of what I truly have. Not only that, but what we will all, within less than a week's time, all have." "And what would that be?" "Ah," grinned Londo. "That's all part of the great riddle of life, isn't it." And with that utterly cryptic remark, he headed out of the room, leaving a completely perplexed Vir behind, to scratch his head and wonder what in the world had just occurred there. When Vir entered his quarters for the evening, he was astounded to find the nubile dancing girl he'd been ogling earlier . She was wearing considerably less than she had been before. To be specific, she was clad in his bedsheet, which was wrapped around her on the bed. Vir stood there a moment , and then realized that since his mouth was moving, it would probably be at least good form to have syllables emerging in conjunction with the movement. "Uh ... uh ... uh ... hello.. ." "Hello," she purred. "I'm ... sorry to disturb you. I thought these were my assigned quarters. I'll just be out of your way. . ." Then Vir saw his suitcase over in the corner, and realized that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. So, apparently, was she. "Would you care to join me?" "Why? Are you coming apart?" Vir then forced laughter at his rather feeble attempt at humor. He saw no change in the small smile on the woman's face, and so he composed himself . "Uh ... look ... perhaps there's been some mistake. . ." "You are Vir Cotto?" She repositioned herself, sweeping the blanket around her. Vir suddenly felt rather sweaty. He also felt some stray movement in the area of his chest and willed himself to calm down. "Yes. But ... may I ask how ... that is to say. . ." "Minister Durla felt that he might have offended you ... and out of respect to your long history with the emperor, he asked me to make sure that there would be no hard feelings." At the mention of Durla's name, even the most preliminary stirrings of interest promptly evaporated. "Durla. I see. Well . . ." Vir cleared his throat forcibly. "Here's a thought. I'll turn around and avert my eyes, and you can go get dressed and tell him everything's fine, and I appreciate the thought. All right?" Disappointment flickered across her face. "Are you sure?" "Miss ... believe me when 1 tell you, decisions aren't always my strongest thing. I kind of go back and forth. But about this, yes, I'm absolutely sure." He turned his back to her and waited. He heard the rustling of the sheets as she slid out of bed, the whisper of cloth against her body as she dressed. Moments later her hand trailed across his back as she cooed, "Good night then, Ambassador." "Good night," Vir said in a strangled voice. He waited long moments after the door hissed closed before he dared to trust himself to turn around. Then he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was, indeed, gone. Durla. Durla had sent her. The very thought was horrifying . Furthermore, when he'd turned his back to her, he'd watched the shadow she cast quite carefully, to make sure she didn't come at him with a knife while his back was turned. That, rather than generosity, would be much more in character with Durla's way of doing things. "Now I remember why I don't spend a lot of time on Centauri Prime. I hate it here " He made sure his door was locked and changed quickly for bed. But sleep did not come. Instead he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about what Londo had said. It seemed so random, so confusing, as if Londo was unable to hold a coherent thought in his head. Who was Rem Lanas? And all that conversation about Emperor Kran? And ... That riddle. About what was greater than the Great Maker? What did that riddle have anything to do with anything? The truth was, it seemed completely unrelated to anything that had gone on. What was greater than the Great Maker? The rest of the riddle made no sense, couldn't progress any further, because the truth was that, quite simply, nothing was greater than the Great Maker. Oh, certainly it was impossible to understand why he had allowed the Republic to slip into such disarray, why he had stood silently by and allowed the bombings and ... Suddenly Vir sat up, his eyes wide, and he felt a momentary sense of glee, almost childlike in its exuberance. "Nothing," he said out loud. "The answer is nothing." It Nothing was more frightening than the Shadow ships ... to that, Vir would personally attest. The poor have nothing. The rich need nothing. And if you eat nothing ... then you die. A good riddle. A thought provoker. But then Vir thought of something else Londo had said. Something about. . . What had Londo's exact words been? "Everything around here, all that we have rebuilt, all the power at my command ... it makes me think of what I truly have. Not only that, but what we will all, within less than a week's time, all have." And he had referred to it as being part of the great riddle of life. Nothing. Londo was telling him that he felt he had nothing. As if he wanted to make sure Vir was aware that he was truly unhappy with his situation. But why? Why not just come out and say so? And why was he so unhappy anyway, if he was being given the opportunity to rebuild Centauri Prime in his own image. Where was the tragedy, the sadness in that? And ... they would all have nothing? Within a week's time? It made no sense. Or perhaps it did, and Vir was simply unwilling or unable to put it all together. The next morning he went straight to the throne room, but guards blocked the door. "I need to see the emperor," he said. The guards simply stared at him as if he hadn't spoken. "It's urgent." "I'm afraid that the emperor is seeing no one today." The voice came from behind. It was Durla, strolling calmly down the corridor and looking so at home that it seemed to Vir as if Durla thought he owned the place. "And why is that?" Durla shrugged. "I do not question my emperor's orders, Ambassador. I simply obey them. I would suggest that you do likewise." "How do I know that those are his orders?" Vir demanded. "How do I know he's even still alive?" Durla appeared startled at the very suggestion. "I am shocked that you would insinuate some sort of plot against the emperor, Ambassador. I assure you he's in his throne room. He simply desires seclusion." "Look," Vir said hotly. "Unless I-" The door to the throne room suddenly opened. Vir turned and peered through and, sure enough, there was Londo on his throne. He sat there, resolutely, staring straight ahead, not so much as an inch of his body twitching or giving any indication that he was alive. And then, ever so slightly, Londo turned his head and looked in Vir's direction. He nodded once as if to say, It's all right. Go. Then he went back to staring aware Vir was still in the doorway. Vir stepped back and the doors closed. He turned to Durla, who simply smiled and said, "Have a safe journey back to Babylon 5. Do visit us again ... very soon." And with that he headed off down the corridor. The sleeper approached wakefulness. One of the dark ones was nearing. He sensed its approach and prepared to come to full consciousness. He had remained hidden in the darkness, waiting for his chance, preparing for the opportunity to serve the dark ones. It was a confusing time for him. He felt as if his mind were s
plitting in two, and yet mergingfor thefirst time. As ifhe were about to encounter a long-lost twin from whom he had been separated moments after being spit from his mother's womb. He found himself staring at shadows for long periods of time. There was quite an abundance of them in Down Below. Each of them seemed to cloak its own mysterious secrets. Once, like most people, the sleeper had feared shadows. But now he found himself embracing them, feeling the coolness of them. Then the shadows began to call him ... one in particular. He felt himself drawn to it, to one particular corner. There was no one else around. Step by unsteady step he drew closer and closer to it, sensing that for the first time, his life was going to make some degree of sense. Indeed, of late he had been filled with a curious emptiness. He remembered his parents, his mother holding him close, his father schooling him in his first lessons. He remembered them ... but only as if from a distance, as if his mind embraced them, but they were absent from his heart. He remembered the first woman he had made love to, the press of her flesh against his, the warmth of her kiss. He remembered her... but he could not actually feel her. He knew that he had been intertwined with her, but could not feel the sensation of it. It was as if the entirety of his life had been some sort of video, observed but not actually experienced firsthand. He wondered if this was a commonplace feeling. If other people felt the same way about their memories. Meantime, deep within him, something not quite biological , not quite technical, stirred and moved in response to the summons from the shadowy area. He moved toward the corner, and there was something there ... something grey, with a hand out stretched, summoning him ... ... no ... not him ... it...