Armies Of Light And Dark Read online

  EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) May 5, 2270. The idiots. The blind idiots. Did they truly think that they could continue along this path without someone noticing? Did they believe that Sheridan and his associates would continue to be blissfully unaware of what is happening here? I knew perfectly well that there were scans being done from orbit, every so often. We have had no privacy here on Centauri Prime. They watch over us as if we are children, making certain we do not scamper about in a woodpile with a lit flame. They worry that we will hurt ourselves ... hurt ourselves by developing weaponry or militarization that will be used against them, thereby forcing them to try and annihilate us. Apparently Durla and his brilliant associates had the beginnings of a war machine being created on the continent of Xonos, the former stronghold of the Xon-the other race on Centauri Prime, which we wiped out many years ago. There was machinery being created there, which Durla claimed was to be used for agriculture. Agriculture! As if Sheridan was going to believe that. And the next thing 1 knew, I was left attempting to smooth over the ruffled feathers of the Alliance, assuring them that no, no, we Centauri are a peaceful people who harbor no hostility toward anyone. Sheridan did not buy it for an Earth second, I'm sure. He said he wanted the Xonosian buildup dismantled. That there was concern the devices being developed there could be used for war. Durla is having fits. Vallko is getting the people stirred up and angry over this new Alliance oppression. Kuto is endeavoring to put a positive face on all of it, but is not coming close to succeeding- and I suspect that lack of success is by design. And today ... Today I almost killed Throk. He has shown increased designs upon Sienna, and although she has been polite and receptive-even teasingly flirtatious-she has tended to keep him at arm's length. I have noticed that for some months now, and if I had noticed it, then certainly Throk did as well. He was becoming increasingly frustrated that their relationship was going just so far, and no further. Last week, he approached me about arranging a marriage with her. When he walked into my throne room, I assumed that he was approaching me simply in his capacity as my aide. Imagine my surprise when he said, "Highness ... I wish to discuss the prospect of marriage." I stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then said, "Throk, I admit that I have gotten used to you as my valet, but I hardly see the need to formalize our association in that way." Ah, Throk. No sense of humor. "No, Highness. Between myself and your ward, Senna." Now I admit my inclination was to think of Senna as little more than a child, and about Throk the same way. I realized, though, upon his inquiry, that not only is she of marriageable age, but that Throk would very likely be only the first of many ... presuming that I did not agree to the match. Throk spoke very properly, very formally. "I desire to arrange a match with Sienna. I come from the respectable house of Milifa, my father is-" "I know who your house is, Throk," I said impatiently. "I know your lineage. You wish to be husband to Senna? You are aware of what that entails? You are prepared for the responsibility?" "Yes, Highness. I think she will make a superb first wife." "Indeed." Why did I not consider that a ringing endorsement? "And how does Senna feel about the concept?" He looked extremely puzzled. "Does that matter?" "Not always," I admitted. "But it does to me, in this case." 1 turned to one of the guards and requested that he bring Senna to me. Within minutes she entered , quite the grown woman. I felt bad for her; she had spent most of her time in recent months socializing with the Prime Candidates who were inhabiting virtually every corner of the palace these days. There were almost no women in the palace aside from serving women. I could have done better on her behalf, in finding her females to associate with. But I suppose it was a bit late to start worrying about such considerations. "Senna," I said, "Throk here has asked that I arrange a marriage." Her eyes sparking with slightly evil amusement, Senna said, "I hope you two will be very happy together, Highness." I turned to Throk and said, "She has learned her lessons well." Throk did not seem amused. Then again, he never did, so it wasn't as if that was anything new. "Senna," I said, feeling that dragging things out would not help matters. "Do you wish to marry Throk?" Her gaze flickered from him to me, and then, not unkindly but firmly nevertheless , she said, for Throk. But I do not wish to marry him, no. There is no insult intended. I do not wish to marry anyone." "Well, there it is then, Throk," I said, turning to him. He looked as if he had been utterly blindsided. "That ... is it? There is to be no discussion?" "She has said no. There does not seem to be a good deal of latitude in that decision. No is no, and I suspect-since it is Senna we are discussing here- that no amount of chat will convert no to yes. Senna, however, clearly hopes that you will be able to remain friends. l naturally hope that you will be willing to honor her request." "But a woman does not have a say in the matter!" Throk insisted, somewhat stridently. "Under many circumstances, yes," I agreed. "But these are not many circumstances . These are circumstances that I am controlling, and I will value Senna's wishes over yours. That is all." As it turned out, it was not all. Later that day, when I was passing Senna's room, I heard arguing. I recognized both raised voices; Senna and her frustrated suitor were obviously having a bit of a difference of opinion. My first inclination was to allow Senna to handle the matter. She was, after all, an independent young woman who knew her own mind and was more than capable of handling someone like Throk. But then there was the angry retort of skin striking skin. Sennat voice cried out, and I heard a body hit the floor. I stepped toward the door, but it did not open. Angrily, I turned to my guards and pointed mutely to the door. Without a moment's hesitation, they stepped forward and forced the door open. I strode in ahead of them, a breech of protocol but I doubt that they could have stopped me. Senna was on the floor, as I suspected she would be. Throk stood over her, his hands balled into fists, and he was shouting, "You have shamed mein front of the emperor! You have-" That was when he noticed me. Immediately he straightened up and started to say, "Highness, this is not what--" I did not feel like hearing his explanations, or even the sound of his voice. I did not care how much influence certain "others" had over Throk's service to me. With two quick steps, I was right in front of him It might not have been fair, but at that moment I saw all the frustration, all the arrogance, all the difficulties and scrabbling for power from all those around me, all personified and condensed into this one individual. I drew back a fist and swung. It was, I am pleased to say, an impressive blow, particularly considering how out-of-practice I was. Throk's head snapped around and he went down without a sound. It was, I confess, a bit disconcerting , that silence. He glowered up at me, and he did not even put his hand to his chin to rub the area where I had struck him. Apparently he did not want to give me the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. "1 believe," I said tersely, "that your time in my service is ended, Throk." "Minister Durla assigned me to= "Minister Durla works for me," I thundered. "I decide what will be! Not him! Not you! Me! Minister Durla will find something else to assign you to, and I can only suggest, for your continued health, that it be something that will not bring you into contact with Senna. Now get out of my sight!" He got to his feet, not slowly, but not with any overt hurry either. He looked at me for a time, and I notched up my glower. He looked down at that point, which I took some small measure of pride in noting. And then, without another word, he walked out. "Are you all right, young lady?" I asked. "I ... did not need to be rescued, Highness," she replied. "I could have handled him myself." Then she smiled ruefully and put a hand to the part of her face that was still flared red from the impact "But I appreciate not having had to." "Do not think upon it any longer. He is out of your life, for good. I shall see to that." Tomorrow I will be speaking with Lord Durla, making sure that Throk is given an assignment that will keep him far away from her. I hope she does not end up losing her association with the other Prime Candidates. I could wish for a better set of friends for her, but at least it's people roughly her own age with whom she's having social intercourse. There is something to be said for that. If only I could handle this business with the
Alliance as easily as I dispatched Throk. A quick punch to the face and that was all that was required. The realm of politics is, unfortunately, slightly more complicated. At least, I think it is Perhaps I should try punching Sheridan in the nose someday and see if anything positive comes from it.

  chapter 11 "Mr. Garibaldi will see you now." The secretary was so remarkably gorgeous that Lou Welch had a hard time removing his gaze from her. "Breathtaking," he muttered. "Pardon?" "Th is office," Lou said quickly, gesturing around them. "It's really impressive." He rose from his seat and continued, "Me and Michael, we go way back. God, his living quarters were smaller than this outer office. He's come a long way." "Yes. He has."The face remained lovely, but the smile was thinning in a slightly unattractive fashion. "And if you go on in, I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you just how far." "Hmm? Oh! Yes, right," Lou said, and he headed into the inner office. Garibaldi rose from behind his desk, hand extended, a broad smile on his face. Welch couldn't help but admire the trim shape Garibaldi had kept himself in. He'd been concerned that the years spent running the major conglomerate of Edgars/Garibaldi Enterprises might have softened Garibaldi up, but he knew at once that his concerns had been misplaced . Garibaldi looked as whipcord sharp as ever when he stepped forward, and said, "Lou! Lou, it's great to-" His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong," Lou said, puzzled. "You have hair," Garibaldi said. "Oh. That." Slightly self-conscious, but simultaneously preening, Welch ran his fingers through his thick shock of black hair. "I had a thing done." "A thing. Uh-huh," said Garibaldi. 183 "Kind of went in the opposite direction from you, huh, Chief? Put the `baldy' in Garibaldi, did ja?" "My secret weapon," Garibaldi deadpanned, in reference to his own hairless pate. "I bounce light off it into the eyes of my enemy, blinding them. Plus, if I'm marooned on a desert island, I can reflect the sun off it to summon passing airships. You get stuck on a desert island, Lou, all you get to do is pick sand mites out of your follicles. Sit down, sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Club soda or something?" "No, no, I'm fine, thanks," Welch said. Garibaldi walked back around his desk and dropped down into his seat. "So," he said, steepling his fingers, "why don't you tell me what you've been up to." "Well, now, Chief ... you're the one who tracked me down, invited me to come here to Mars for a chat," Welch said slowly. "Why don't you tell me what I've been up to?" "First off, you don't have to call me Chief," Garibaldi said. "We're not on B5 anymore. `Michael' will be fine. Even `Mike.' " "Okay, Chief." Garibaldi rolled his eyes, and then he refocused himself. "Okay," he said gamely. "Basically, you received a promotion to personal guard for President Clark ... but then you resigned from EarthForce back during the ... unpleasantness. Since then you've been serving as a private security consultant for a number of small firms. In addition, you've gotten yourself quite a reputation as a tracker. People call you `The Ghost.' You have a knack for not being seen when you don't want to." "I blend in well," said Welch. "It's the hair." "I'm sure it is," said Garibaldi. "You don't know it, but you've actually worked for Edgars/Garibaldi a couple of times. Some of our smaller holdings." "I didn't know that." "Actually, you probably did." "Well, yeah, I did," Welch admitted. He leaned forward, curious. "So what's up, Chief? You didn't bring me here just to catch up on what I've been doing." "Take a look at this," Garibaldi said. He cued up an image on the computer screen behind him, and some aerial views of what appeared to be a construction site of some sort appeared . "What do you see?" Welch frowned as he studied it. While he did so, Garibaldi 's intercom beeped at him. He tapped it, and said, "Yeah?" His secretary's crisp voice came over. "Your eleven o'clock appointment called. He's running a little late, but he'll be here as soon as he can. He apologizes profusely for any inconvenience." "Not a problem. Let my wife know that we'll probably have to push lunch back half an hour, will ya?" "Yes, Sir.,, "Your wife." Welch shook his head in wonderment. "Still hard to believe those words are coming off your mouth. Funny ... I thought for a while you had a thing for that Psi Corps woman. . . what was her name?" "Talia,"Garibaldi said, tonelessly. "Yeah. Do you ever hear from her? Whatever happened with her, anyway?" Garibaldi appeared to consider for a time before replying. "She had a change of mind. So . . ." and he gestured toward the images on the screen. Welch immediately knew that he had unwittingly stepped in some sort of delicate territory, and promptly decided that it wouldn't be a good idea to press the matter. Instead he said, "Well ... seems to be some sort of munitions factory. Where is it?" "Xonos. A sparsely populated continent on Centauri Prime. Shots were taken by an Alliance probe, about a week ago. Centauri claim that it's actually tools being developed for agriculture. Stuff to clear land." "You could clear land with it," Welch said slowly. "Of course, if anyone were living on the land, they'd be cleared, too." He drummed his fingers on the table. "What are you thinking, Lou?" Garibaldi asked. "I'm thinking that it looks like a munitions factory. That if they wanted it to look like a tool development site, they could have done so. I'm thinking that it looks exactly like what they want it to look like. Did they know that they're being watched?" "Oh, yeah "Okay. So I'm thinking decoy." Garibaldi nodded. "Exactly. They erect a site that our probes can't help but spot so that we can all argue about it, and distract us from what they're really up to." "And that would be. . ." "We don't know," admitted Garibaldi. "And that is what President Sheridan would like us to find out." "Us?" "He wants this small, Lou, at least for the time being. The Interstellar Alliance is busy haggling with Centauri Prime over this site. Let 'em. If this is all there is to it, then we don't have to get anyone worried. If, on the other hand, there's more to it, then the president wants to be the first to know about it and-with any luck-shut it down before things get out of hand." "Sounds to me like he's out to treat the Centauri with kid gloves. Any particular reason?" "I don't know that I'd characterize it as kid gloves. I know he'd like to avoid an all-out war. And I think, in a way-for old time's sake-he'd like to see Londo manage to turn things around for Centauri Prime." "You mean turn things around so that, instead of feeling beaten and suppressed, they feel ready to launch a war again?" "Not that much around," Garibaldi said. "At any rate, he wants to dispatch a team to Centauri Prime that would be equal parts diplomatic and equal parts-" "Snoops." "Exactly. What the president wants is a small group of people who know Londo from the old days, and hopefully can appeal to sentiment to make sure that this doesn't spiral out of hand. At the same time, he wants some folks who are cynical and suspicious enough to be able to take a hard look at things, find out what's going on, and do what needs to be done. He wants me in on it. And I'm figuring that having you to cover my back and check around wouldn't be a bad thing at all. So ... are you up for it, Ghost?" "The job pay or am I doing this out of the goodness of my heart?" "Goodness of your heart." "Then I'm in." Garibaldi laughed. "Lou, I was kidding. Of course the job pays. You're being hired." "Terrific. Then I'm even more in than I was before. Sounds exciting, Chief. The two of us against Centauri Prime. They don't stand a chance." "Well, now, I figured maybe we'd even the odds just a bit. It's going to be three of us." The intercom beeped at them again. "Your eleven o'clock is here, sir." "Should I wait outside?" asked Welch. "No, no, not at all. Actually, this is the third member of our little group. Send him in," he said to the intercom. "This third guy someone who'll fit in on Centauri Prime?" "Oh, yeah," said Garibaldi. "He'll blend perfectly. Hardly anyone'll even notice him. He can walk around on Centauri Prime and not get a second look. The door slid open, and Welch turned and rose from his seat. Then he blinked in surprise. The newcomer took several brisk steps, stopped, and then half bowed with his fists to his chest. "Greetings, Mr. Garibaldi. And Mr. Welch, is it not?" Welch was so surprised that he didn't even bother to hide his incredulity. He turned to Garibaldi, and said, "He's going to fit right in on Centauri Prime? Him?" "Trust me," said Citizen G'Kar of Nam, with an amused glimmer in one eye. "You won't even know I'm there."