The Long Night of Centauri Prime (12 page)

"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–"

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 previous 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 I 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." If 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 splitting in two, and yet merging for the first time. As if he 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 outstretched, summoning him ... no ... not him ... it...

8

Zack Allan, the security head of Babylon 5, was staring at Vir, one brow arched, his piercing eyes filled with open curiosity.

"Rem Lanas? You want to find out about a Rem Lanas?"

Vir, sitting in Zack's office, kept his hands neatly folded in his lap. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Is he one of yours? I mean a Centauri?"

"That's right. Normally, we could find one of our own people, of course, but thanks to the bombings, our records are a mess. We think he's here, but we're not sure."

"Important in some way?"

Vir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Is there any reason you're asking me so many questions, Mr. Allan? Not that," he added quickly, "I mind answering them. I don't. I wouldn't mind answering your questions all day. I really didn't have anything else blocked out on my schedule. So if you want to keep–"

Zack put up a hand to still the torrent of words spilling from Vir.

"I just wanted to know," Zack said slowly, "if he presents any sort of a security risk and if I should be worried."

"A security risk! Oh ... oh, no. That's funny." Vir quickly laughed, a sort of high-pitched blurt. "That's really funny. A Centauri, presenting a security risk. No," he said, suddenly serious. "No, none of our people present any sort of a risk, security or otherwise. We, that is, I, wouldn't want anyone to think that the Centauri in any way are threatening. Because, you know, as soon as that happens come the ships, and the booming, and the shooting, and, well ... it's a mess. We don't want that. No one wants that. I know I don't, you don't..."

"Rem Lanas."

"I'm sure he doesn't, either."

"I mean," Zack said patiently, "who is he? Why do you need to find him?"

"Well..." Vir harrumphed to buy himself a few seconds, and then said, "Money."

"Money? What about it?"

"Rem Lanas has come into a sizeable amount of it. His inheritance, so his parents want to get in touch with him, let him know..."

"`Parents.' You just said his father was dead."

"Yes, that's ... right. That is, his adoptive parents. His father gave him up for adoption when he was quite young, and when his father was dying, he felt so guilty that he left everything to his son. It's a tragic story. Very unexpected death. His father was an opera singer, you see, and he was performing an outdoor concert, and his mouth was wide open as he was trying to jump an octave, and suddenly this low-flying bird–"

"Okay, okay, okay," said Zack quickly, clearly not wanting to hear the climax of the story. "Let me see if we've got any record of a Rem Lanas coming through here."

As Zack checked through the computers, Vir's mind was racing. Lying simply was not his strong suit. He felt tremendously uncomfortable and very exposed whenever he was trying to do it. One would have thought that, working with Londo for as long as he had, he would have acquired a knack for it. The one thing he had going for him was that he tended to babble to the point where people would accept whatever he was saying, just to shut him up. With one lie, he was ineffective. With an avalanche of lies, he could squeak by. The thing was, he wasn't sure who Rem Lanas was, or what significance he held. But out of nowhere, Londo had made mention of him.