The Long Night of Centauri Prime (9 page)

"Have you completely lost your senses?!" The emperor stood over her, body trembling with indignation and perhaps even a sense of personal humiliation. Cleaned up and wearing fresh clothing, Senna sat in a chair, hands folded, looking down. Nearby, Durla stood and observed the confrontation impassively. "You accuse my minister of murder, in front of a crowd of people!" continued Londo. "A tragic circumstance, transformed by you into a suspicion of my government! What were you thinking? Well? That was not a rhetorical question – what were you thinking?"

"I said what I was thinking," Senna said quietly. "I believe that's why you're chastising me, Majesty."

"Outrage! It was an outrage!" Annoyingly to Senna, it was Durla who spoke up in her defense . "I beg you, Majesty, do not be harsh with the girl. She was upset, obviously distraught. Considering the circumstances, I would say it was most understandable. She did not know the truth of the matter..."

"The truth of the matter?" She repeated the words with no inflection. "What are you talking about ... `the truth of the matter'?"

Durla sighed heavily, as if he were about to release a great burden.

"I would have given anything if you were not to find out this way, young la– Senna. Do you remember that box the rescue worker removed from the rubble? Well ... the evidence found therein was – shall we say – rather damning."

"What evidence. What sort of nonsense..."

"The truth is," and he addressed his comments to the both of them, "that it appears Telis Elaris was, in fact, a sympathizer with the Alliance."

"What? Are you sure?" asked Londo. "Have you any real proof?"

"Positive, Majesty. The box we found contained detailed logs, correspondence ... communications with several key member races of the Alliance who still feel that the assault on Centaurs Prime should continue. Races who will not be satisfied until every last one of us, no matter how young and pretty," he said pointedly to Senna, "is wiped from existence. Nothing less than wholesale genocide will suit them."

"This is utterly preposterous," Senna said. "Telis Elaris loved his fellow Centauri. It was only because he cared for them that he tried to expand their minds, to–"

"What he cared about, Senna, was undermining and undercutting the current regime. It wasn't entirely his fault," said Durla. "I believe he himself was being manipulated by the Alliance, who found in him a convenient patsy. Be that as it may, we have also uncovered the reason for the explosion: apparently Telis Elaris was experimenting with the construction of an incendiary device. His ultimate use for it, we do not know, although we can speculate based upon his communiques. We believe – although I emphasize, there is no proof – that he intended to assassinate you, Majesty. Blow up the palace."

"This is insane!" shouted Senna.

"Is it?" Durla asked, never coming close to losing his patience. "It was he who suggested you take your lessons out of doors, was it not? We believe he intended to detonate the bomb during one of your sessions, so that there would be no chance of you coming to harm. Apparently he felt quite affectionately toward you. In any event, while he was certainly of quite high quality as a thinker, he was a bit deficient in the category of terrorism. The device went off prematurely, and..." He shrugged.

Senna turned to Londo.

"Majesty, surely you can't believe this. You know Telis. You know the kind of man he is was. Do not let this this ..." she waggled a finger at Durla, "this person ... besmirch the good name of Telis Elaris. It's bad enough that he assassinated the man. Now will he be allowed to assassinate the man's character as well?"

"Senna ... you have become very dear to me," Londo said slowly, "but I warn you, do not overstep yourself, for it–"

"Overstep myself! Majesty, we stand in the presence of a murderer and liar! Murder and lying are not in the job description of the minister of Internal Security! Who has overstepped whose bounds?"

"We do not know that," Londo said, "and if there is proof–"

"Proof that he could easily have manufactured!"

"Interrupt me again at your own peril, Senna!"

Senna, who had risen from her chair when confronting Londo, took a step back as she realized that he meant it. She had never seen him as angry as he was at that very moment. With a distinct effort, Londo composed himself, then said tightly, "I will inspect the evidence myself. If the findings are as Minister Durla says, well ..." He paused, considering the matter a moment. "As a matter of internal security, I see no reason at this time to inform the populace that there may have been a traitor in their midst. Why stir matters up more than they are, or contribute more fuel to the fire of paranoia. They need peace of mind. If at the end of his life, Telis Elaris harbored traitorous alliances, that does not negate the good he accomplished through his teachings. We can always attribute the explosion to something routine – a furnace or some such. You can come up with something, I trust, Durla?"

"Yes, Majesty" Durla replied dutifully.

"Good."

"So it would seem," Durla commented to Senna, "that sometimes lying is part of my job description."

Senna said nothing. For some moments, in fact, no one said anything. Then Londo told her, "Since you are so concerned, Senna, about the public perception of a man who is already dead ... do you not think you owe Minister Durla an apology for your public assault on his character, particularly considering that he is still alive to hear whatever criticism may arise from your actions?"

"If you are indeed asking me, Majesty... no. No, I don't believe I owe him that at all." She looked at Londo with her chin slightly upthrust and as much moderate defiance as she dared display.

"Majesty," Durla said, coming to her rescue once more, "it is not necessary. Truly."

"Very well," Londo nodded. "Senna, you may go." She walked out of the room, and it was only when she was a safe distance that she allowed the tears to flow.

Durla handed the box of evidence to Londo and bowed.

"Return it whenever you are done, Majesty. I expect that you will find everything as I've said."

"Oh, I expect I will," Londo told him.

Durla turned to leave. He started toward the door, and then he heard quick footsteps behind him. Before he could turn, he suddenly felt one powerful hand on the back of his neck, and another grabbing him by the back of his coat. The slim minister was propelled forward and slammed face first against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and then Londo's mouth was right up against his ear, whispering to him in a sort of perversely intimate moment. "Understand, Durla if I learn that this evidence has indeed been falsified ... that you were responsible for the death of Elaris ... your head will wind up next to that of a fellow named Morden who was, I assure you, far better connected and far more dangerous than you. And I further assure you that I personally will attend to the task of decapitating you, with Senna there to catch your head and stick it on the pole with her own eager hands. Is that clear?"

"Majesty, I–"

"Is. That. Clear?"

"Yes, Majesty." He released Durla then. The minister did not turn around. Instead he straightened his coat, smoothed some ruffled strands of his hair, and walked out of the throne room.

The moment he was gone was when the pain hit Londo. White hot, stabbing, exploding through his brain and offering him no place to run. He staggered across the throne room, trying to locate the source, and then he realized. The keeper, the keeper on his shoulder was doing this. He tried to reach around, to rip the monstrosity off him once and for all, but all such efforts only increased the agony, and that was when he heard a voice in his head saying,
I would not do that if I were you.
He staggered to his throne, clutching the arms, gasping as the pain finally started to recede. But a sense of it still remained, like a great beast lurking in the high grass, ready to come at him once again if he so much as made the slightest wrong move. Even in his head, he recognized the voice of the Drakh Entire or at least the Drakh emissary who seemed to haunt the palace like an omnipresent specter of death.

"How ... how did–"

No questions. Sit. In the throne. Hands on the armrests.
Londo did as he was instructed. He had no choice – he realized that.
You abused Durla.
The voice sounded almost disappointed.
He is chosen by us. You are not to do such a thing ever again.

"Chosen by you. Then he has a keeper, too?" growled Londo, taking at least some measure of joy in picturing what it must have been for Durla to watch one of those abominations crawling across the floor at him. So he was disappointed to hear in reply,
No. He does not require one. He already believes – that the Republic has become vulnerable because of its decadence, that you have lost the fire of your early years. He believes in discipline, order, and total obedience. He does not need to know of our existence, does not require a keeper. His pure enthusiasm and rightness of spirit will make him far more effective than any keeper could.

"I'm so happy for you. Then may I ask why you need me?"

We don't.

Well ... there it was, wasn't it. The Drakh could be accused of many things, but prevarication was not one of them. Sounding almost regretful, the Drakh voice said to him:
We take no pleasure in this, Londo. No joy. The work you have done thus far for Centauri Prime is laudable. You have focused them, directed them, uplifted them, brought them far from their fallen state in just a few short months. Left to your own devices, you might indeed be a worthwhile emperor. But you are our device, not your own. You will attend to our wishes and remember that you can pretend to serve the people, but you truly serve us. To help you in remembering... you will sit silently in your throne now.

"But–" For just a moment, the pain welled up, like a threatening tidal wave.

"Silently". Then Londo sat perfectly upright, staring straight ahead, looking neither left nor right.
You will remain that way ... until we tell you otherwise. You will hear the noises, the conversations, the normal life of the palace outside ... but you will not participate. All audiences will be refused. You will be alone for hours ... or days ... however long we feel it necessary in order to make our point. You spoke of Centauri Prime being alone? You have no grasp of the concept. But you will. You will, for the greatest loneliness of all is to be alone among others. Do not move, Londo. Do not speak. Dwell on what you have done, and what will be required of you ... and what will happen to you if you do not live up to those requirements.

Then the voice in his head ceased but Londo wisely did not move. He continued to stare resolutely ahead, lest the voices and the pain return.

I am in hell,
thought Londo.

And a voice replied,
Yes. You are.

He tried not to think after that.

It was a brisk day, the wind whipping sharply over the hills. Senna went to their place and sat upon the grass. She stared off into the distance toward the ruined building, which was already in the process of being torn down, now part of the emperor's renovation program. Considering the speed and efficiency with which the workers had been moving, a new structure would probably replace it within a week. She had been checking through libraries, through data bases. The writings of Telis Elaris were quietly being removed, disappearing one by one. She lay back on the grass, looked up at the clouds. She tried to conjure up images ... and nothing suggested itself. They were just white collections of mist and vapors, and would soon go away, just as everything went away. Tears began to roll down her face, even though she made no noise. "Why?" she whispered. No answers came.

The sleeper began to stir. He did not fully realize what was happening, not on any conscious level. He simply developed the oddest feeling that everything around him was ... incidental. That it would soon cease to have any true relevance to his life. He went about his business, trying to ignore the faint buzzing that was becoming more pronounced in his head. When he could ignore it no longer, he went to the medical people, but their rather cursory examination found nothing. He didn't fault them, for it, not really. He was having trouble explaining to them just what it was that he was feeling, so how could they know what to look for? He didn't even understand it himself. So he pushed himself to go on with his life and not dwell on that which he did not understand. And when word trickled down that the president of the Interstellar Alliance was going to be doing a walk-through of Down Below... that he was, in fact, endeavoring to develop a program that would be of help to everyone there, why ... that all sounded fine. Excellent, in fact. Down Below could use all the help it could get. He did not realize yet that he would be assassinating President Sheridan. Assassination was the furthest thing from his mind. He was just a normal guy, trying to get on with his normal life. Thoughts of murder and mayhem were far, far away. He didn't understand that they were going to draw quite close.

6

Vir hadn't known what to expect when he arrived back on Centauri Prime. When he had departed, right after the inauguration, it had been under less-than-ideal circumstances. Cities had been reduced to smoldering ruins, and Londo had delivered a bizarre speech that sounded as if it was designed to fan the flames of hostility and rage against the Interstellar Alliance. What good could possibly come from getting the Centauri people even more worked up? Vir had wondered, mystified. They had to understand that it was a time of reconciliation. Of redemption. Yes ... that was what was required, Vir thought as the transport ship that carried him the final leg to his destination drew within reach of the Centauri Prime main spaceport.

Redemption. The Centauri had much for which they had to redeem themselves. The truth was that they had done great evil. They had attacked the Narns, they had provided aid to the most evil of evil races, the Shadows. As a race they had sinned mightily, and as a race they were being called upon to repent. Repenting for their sins, however, was not going to be easy if their ire was stirred and they were made to feel as if they – the poor, put-upon citizens of Centauri Prime – were the victims. Yes, there had been misunderstandings. Yes, there seemed to have been deliberate plots to vilify Centauri Prime in the eyes of other races. But wasn't the truth that they, the Centauri people, had left themselves open for precisely that sort of under-the-table assault?