Out of the Darkness (28 page)

That was when a gigantic hologram appeared before them, much like the one of Londo some fifteen years earlier, and Durla far more recently. But this was someone whom Durla had not remotely expected. Whom no one had expected.

"Cotto," Durla snarled.

"My fellow Centauri," the gigantic image of Vir boomed throughout the world. "I am Vir Cotto. I am the leader of a resistance movement called the Legions of Fire. We have known for some time that it is not the leaders – specifically, the prime minister – of Centauri Prime who have been shaping your destinies. It is these beings ... the Drakh. Servants of the Shadows. Monstrous beings."

"This is broadcasting everywhere!" Durla practically howled at Kuto. "Shut it down! Find a way!"

"The people of Centauri Prime have been used. Duped. The Drakh played upon our nationalistic feelings in order to use you – to use us – as cat's-paws to strike against the Alliance. An Alliance that goes against everything they want to see happen in known space. They are a disease that has been slowly rotting us ... and we did not even know that we were sick. But now you know. It has not been Centauri Prime for Centauri. It has not been the clear vision of a people, or even of the 'visionary' prime minister. He has been duped. You have all been duped.

"And to all the member worlds of the Alliance, know that the aggression you have seen from Centauri Prime has been nothing but the cold, manipulating tactics of an evil race. We are as much victims as you. We are–"

At that moment, the image of Vir Cotto blinked out. And then something monstrous came through the sky, something black and frightening, and – in the heads of everyone below – there seemed to be something akin to a scream as it flashed past.

The ship drove straight toward the vast hole that had been created by the explosion. Then, from the vessel, a small army of Drakh descended, heading right for the now-exposed tunnels.

The Drakh poured into the catacombs, weapons at the ready. And when they arrived, they found no one there. At least, no one at the point of entry.

"Spread out!" the order came down, and the Drakh moved every which way through the catacombs, searching for Vir Cotto and the others, certain they were facing a small force of people who could quickly be obliterated.

They were wrong.

For suddenly, from every discernible direction, Centauri came charging forward. They were servants and soldiers attached to the Houses. They were scholars. They were poets. They were subversives, philosophers, writers. But under the direction, planning, and supervision of Vir Cotto, they were warriors all. Moreover, they were warriors who had thoroughly familiarized themselves with every twist and turn of the catacombs.

The split troops of the Drakh were cut off from one another. In what could only be considered the height of irony, they were lost in the dark.

And then there was much screaming. Amazingly, little of it involved Centauri voices.

C
HAPTER 21

Mariel watched in amazement from the balcony. She had heard the explosions, the same as everyone else. She gaped in astonishment, watched the Tower of Power disintegrate. She saw distant, non-Centauri bodies falling through the air in assorted bits and pieces. Something smacked against the wall just to her left. It was a single small piece of grey flesh. She stared at it in wonderment as it hung there.

And then she heard the voice – that magnificent voice, that powerful voice – and the image, like a vision from the Great Maker himself. Vir – her Vir – speaking to the people of Centauri Prime, telling them what was happening, stepping forward into the position of leadership that she had always known he rightly deserved.

Then she saw the dark ship descending, and terror descended upon her, as well. Instinctively she knew who and what they were, and what they intended for Vir. She saw them stream down into the blast point.

There was no way to help Vir. Nothing she could do.

Then she realized that there was. She ran quickly into her bedroom, closed the door behind her, dropped to her knees.

"Please, Great Maker," she whispered, "I will give anything, do anything, sacrifice anything, but please let Vir be all right. Save him. And save Londo. I tried to do him ill and, in so doing, upset Vir, and I repent of that. I repent of it all, please ..."

That, and similar sentiments were all she voiced for some minutes, until she heard shouting from the main room. First and foremost came Durla's voice, and then she heard others, as well. She heard the voices of Castig Lione, and Kuto, and there was Vallko, and Munphis, the minister of education. They were all talking at once, and it was difficult to make them out, until Durla shouted them down.

"This cannot be!" he bellowed. "It is a trick! A hideous trick!"

"You saw!" Lione shouted back. "We all saw! The Drakh. Great Maker, Durla, the Drakh!"

"You will address me as prime minister!"

"How can it be a trick?" It was Vallko, and he sounded like a broken man, someone whose faith had been shattered. "We saw... that ship, the Drakh, here in the heart of the city..."

"A trick, I tell you, put together by Cotto!"

"Prime Minister, it makes no sense!" That was Kuto speaking. "We saw them! We saw the Drakh attack! Drakh bodies falling from the Tower, Drakh warriors from the skies ... it's..."

"Face it, Prime Minister ... you've been used. We all have," Lione said.

Durla's voice was trembling with fury. "You will not stand there and tell me that my vision for Centauri Prime was something manufactured by an alien race!"

"Great Maker take your visions!" Lione snapped. "I'm telling you, we've been used!" There were mutters of agreement.

"I have trouble believing that you are my cabinet. My ministers, those I trusted." Durla's voice sounded like a mixture of disgust and sorrow. "That you would turn on me now, at our moment of greatest triumph..."

"Triumph! A war on the entire Alliance that was planned by a race who were servants of the Shadows!" That was the normally reticent Munphis speaking up. "Who knows what their long-term plans are! It could very well be that they're looking to us to smash the Alliance for them ... and they, in turn, will conquer us!"

"We are Centauri Prime! We will never be conquered again! And I will not allow the trickery of the 'Legions of Fire,' and Cotto, and these imaginary Drakh to dissuade me from my course! I have planned this for far too long, done too much, to let it end here and now!"

She heard footsteps then, quick movements. "Durla, what are you doing?" It was Vallko's voice. He sounded as if he was starting to come out of his shock.

"This is my backup transmitter. We had to shut down the world web to take Cotto's rants off-line, but this will still get me directly to the ships. The attack will go on as planned."

"You're insane! We can't! We have to wait, to get this sorted out–"

"That's what they want us to do, Lione! Wait! Because time is on the side of the Alliance! Cotto has convinced them, just as he has you, that we are the tools of a malevolent race! They will erect defenses against us! Be ready for us!" There was a tone of mounting desperation. "Besides, if the go-codes are not given within the next seventy-two hours, the fleet will stand down! They will think that something is wrong–"

"Something is wrong!" Vallko was getting more strident. "It may well be that nothing is what it has seemed! I have spent years, Durla, telling the people that the future of the Centauri people is in our own hands. We have seen evidence today that that may not be the case!"

"And how much of that did you know, eh?" Lione demanded. Their voices were moving around, making it clear that they were circling each other. "Why did you instruct that the upper floors of the Tower remain off limits? 'Reserved for future expansion.' You knew, didn't you. You knew that our symbol of destiny was... infested with those creatures!"

"I knew no such thing! It was part of my vision, I tell you–"

"A vision given you by the Drakh! Open your eyes and see the truth, Durla!" Lione shouted. "You've been used! Your power stems, not from any divine vision, but from notions planted in your skull by the Drakh! It's the only answer!"

And suddenly there was a deathly quiet. When Durla spoke again, it was with a soft and frightening conviction. "There is," he said, "another answer."

"Durla, put that down," Kuto said warningly, although Mariel had no idea what he was referring to.

"And that answer is that you're all in league with Cotto. I should have seen it earlier. All of you, trying to tear me down. Jealous of me. Planting those fake bodies, getting in league with those... 'Drakh'... to discredit me. Yes ... jealous of me. And traitors, all of you."

As one, the ministers shouted out, and then Mariel heard the blasts. She clapped her hands to her ears, crying out, as the death screams and the sounds of weapon fire filled the air. It seemed to go on forever, although, in truth, it lasted only a few seconds. And then there was silence once more.

Very tentatively, afraid of what she would see, Mariel opened the door.

Durla was standing there, and contrary to what she had expected, he looked exceedingly calm. His hand was at his side, holding a plasma charge blaster. The floor was light red, thick with blood, and the bodies of the ministers were strewn about. Several of them had their eyes open, and they all seemed quite surprised, yet for all their astonishment they were no less dead.

Slowly Durla turned and saw Mariel standing there. Without a word he raised his weapon and aimed it at her. "Do you," he said steadily, "stand against me, too?"

She shook her head.

He smiled. "That's good. That's very good, my love. I would have hated if you had." He looked around at the carnage with a sort of distant sadness. "I was afraid this would happen. That's why I sent the guards away. I had hoped it would turn out differently but... not everything can. They didn't understand. None of them did."

She saw the transmitting equipment nearby. She stepped delicately over the fallen body of Lione, and said softly, "I understand. I didn't used to but... now I do." She was within six feet of him ... five ... walking slowly, almost slinking...

"That's good. That's very good. Would you like to watch, Mariel?"

"Watch?" She froze at four feet.

"Watch me transmit the codes that will launch the attack."

"Of course, my love."

He turned back to the transmitter and began to manipulate the controls.

Three feet... two...

Suddenly he turned and aimed his weapon at her. "I don't believe you," he said, and fired.

At point-blank range, he should not have missed. But Mariel twisted out of the way, the bolt barely grazing her hip, and then she was upon him. She grabbed at the gun with both hands, shoving it away from her, trying to shake it out of his hands, as Durla struggled against her. He shoved her away, tried to aim quickly, but slipped on the blood. Mariel leaped desperately, landed full on top of him, momentarily knocking the wind out of him, and they rolled across the floor. The gun fired wide, ricocheting harmlessly off the wall.

Durla managed to get to his feet, and Mariel clung on, like a spider holding on to a wind-tossed web. They were away from the blood, moving toward the balcony, and Mariel had a better grip on his gun hand this time. But Durla grabbed her trailing length of hair, twisting it around his free hand. She let out a howl of pain but did not let go.

"Stupid cow!" he howled as they staggered about. "I remade the world for you!"

"But I won't let you end it for me!" she cried out.

Her strength, her resolve, momentarily lessened, and then she thought of every time he'd struck her, every time she'd submitted to his abuse, and a fire of fury boiled through her veins. Mariel pushed back, as hard as she could, one desperate shove.

Durla's back hit the balcony railing, and he overbalanced, flipping over. An eight-story drop yawned beneath him. He let out a shriek of alarm, his fingers still firmly entangled in her hair. He dropped the gun and clawed at the air, and then he tumbled over the edge of the balcony. And Mariel, entangled in his grasp like some sort of perverse lovers' embrace, went with him.

As she fell, she felt some small degree of pleasure that he was screaming and she was not.

Londo... Vir... look! I'm flying at last
was the final thought across her mind before the ground rushed up to meet them.

EXCERPTED FROM
THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.

Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date)
January 1,2278.

"Shiv'kala. Not dead, I see? Pity."

I have no idea what prompted me to sound quite as jovial as I did. It was probably the sight of the Tower of Power lying in ruin and rubble out in the town.

Shiv'kala, for his part, seemed positively disconcerted. How long I had waited to see him that way. He was covering it as best as he could, to preserve what he fancied as his dignity and mysterious reserve. But we had been "together" too long. I could tell that he was trying not to panic, and only barely succeeding.

He had appeared, as always, out of the shadows in my inner sanctum. I still did not know how he had gotten there and, frankly, had stopped caring. "No, Londo... still not dead," he whispered. "And not for want of trying by your... associates."

"Are you implying that I had something to do with this?" I demanded. "How would you suggest I did that? Your little friend watches me at all times. If I were helping to run an underground rebellion, I think you would have known."

He advanced on me, his red eyes burning into me. "You always keep certain thoughts buried just below the surface, Londo. The keeper senses it, even if he can do nothing about it. I suspect they may have to do with your 'associates'..."

"Again that word. I am emperor. I work with any number of people. I remind you that your precious Durla is as much my associate as Vir."

"Not anymore. Durla is dead."

That brought me up short. "Dead?" I whispered. "When?"