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  EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI. Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) January 18, 2271. Durla told them all it was an isolated event. At least, that was what he said publicly. Privately he sang a very different tune, and promised a full investigation into the destruction of the Prime Candidates safe house, which had not proved to be so safe. Howling the most loudly was Milifa of the House Milita, the patriarch who had lost his son in a hideous explosion that people still speak of in hushed voices, even though it happened months ago. After all this time, Durta's investigation continued to turn up nothing concrete , only supposition. He told any and all who would listen to him that there was an underground movement brewing, a group of saboteurs who had been responsible for the killing of the handful of Prime Candidates, and who would undoubtedly make more strikes against us if given the opportunity. The problem is that relative peace causes complacency, and because there were no further assaults, Durla's theories soon lost credence. That has all changed, however. Today we received word that there were attacks on two of our colony worlds. And not just any attacks. The munitions plant-my pardon, the educational facility-on Morbis was blown sky high. The weapons development center- my pardon, the health facility-on Nefua is now a pile of rubble. Both blasts happened within a day or so of each other. It was a clear message to us that we are not simply dealing with happenstance or an isolated instance. This is nothing less than war ... a war being waged from within Durla, however, is managing to work the situation from both sides. He cannot seem to make up his mind. Sometimes he claims that the attacks are part of an internal underground of saboteurs and protestors. Other times he states that the Alliance is behind the attacks. Occasionally he blends the two, stating that there is indeed some sort of rebellious crew of saboteurs, who are being supported and funded by the Alliance. No one appears to notice the fluidity of Durla's sentiments. Either that, or no one wishes to point it out, for fear that Durla will not react well. It is hard to dispute Durla's success, however. Minister Vallko has been holding up Durla as an example of all that is well and good in Centauri society, and they have formed a formidable team. I worry for the direction that matters are presently taking. And here 1 sit, feeling increasingly frustrated and helpless ... but simultaneously feeling very much in control. With all that is going on, the presence of the emperor has almost gone unnoticed by those who are vying for power. They are making such noise in battling one another, that one cannot help but feel that they will end up drawing fire upon themselves. And when all that fire is burned away, then with any luck, I shall be the only one left. And would that not be the ironic, final laugh upon them all. The one bit of good news to come from all this is that Dunseny has returned to my employ. With the passing of Throk-and good riddance to him-1 was left without a valet. Apparently Durla had matters of greater importance to worry about than who should be at my side to help me on with my coat or whisper in my ear about matters that do not seem to have much in the way of great consequence for Centauri Prime. Truthfully, I do not know if I should be relieved or insulted. I have not seen Vir recently. I should send him a message to come to Centauri Prime so that we may chat once more. I certainly hope he is keeping himself out of trouble.

  Chapter 17 It had been ages since John Sheridan had set foot on Mars, and somehow he never tired of it. As he sat in the meeting room at Edgars/Garibaldi Enterprises, drumming his fingers absently on the table, it seemed to him that it almost didn't matter how many far-off worlds he had traversed. There was still something about the mystique of Mars. Perhaps it was all the old literature devoted to it, turning it into a mysterious place of strange canals, exotic multiarmed creatures, and a haven for invaders of all sorts who wanted nothing but to attack the hapless Earthlings and steal away with their women. "President Sheridan." A voice came over the large screen, set into the wall to his right. "There is an incoming message for you." "Put it on," he told the voice's invisible owner. Within moments the screen flickered to life, and there was Delenn, with David by her side. He was a remarkably handsome boy, David. A real head- turner, even at his relatively young age, if Sheridan did say so himself. Towheaded with a ready grin, and a snapping sense of intelligence and cold amusement in his eyes, both of which he got from his mother. Sheridan couldn't help but feel that David actually was more charming than his father and more intelligent than his mother. It made for a very formidable combination. David was also, however, old enough to feel chagrin at any sort of open display of affection. Delenn, who doted on him-too much, Sheridan thought privately-had an arm draped around him, which was causing him to squirm right 245 on-screen. He did not, however, voice protest. He knew better than that, particularly where his mother was concerned. "I just wanted to remind you," Delenn said, "that you promised you'd be home in time for David's moving-up ceremony in school." With a slightly plaintive voice, David said, "I already told her it doesn't matter, Father. She keeps insisting anyway." "You promised you would be there, and I simply want him to know that a promise from his father remains a promise." "Don't worry," laughed Sheridan. "I just have this final meeting on Mars, and then I'll be able to come home." "You're meeting with Michael, I take it?" "Yes. And. . ." His voice trailed off. Immediately Delenn was obviously on the alert. "And who?" she inquired. "Well ... it turns out that the new Centauri prime minister is in the area. When he learned that I was here, as well, he requested a get-together. I didn't see how I could refuse him." "A new prime minister?" She frowned. "I had not heard of this. When did the Centauri elect a new prime minister?" "Quite recently. His name is Durla." "Durla." She wrinkled her nose. "I know this one, John. I've read of him. Trusting any Centauri is problematic enough, but this one ... he is a dangerous one. He is Londo, without the conscience." "Considering I'm not sure just how much of a conscience Londo ever had, that's a rather frightening assessment," said Sheridan. David shifted uncomfortably on the screen. "Do you need me for this anymore, Mother?" "No, no. You can go. Tell your father you love him." For response, David rolled his eyes and then moved quickly off screen. Delenn reflexively took a step toward the screen, as if somehow she might be able to step through and be there with him. "Delenn," Sheridan said thoughtfully, "a real-time connection between Mars and Minbar is not an easy thing to put together. It's complicated and it's not cheap. Did you really do this just to remind me of his moving-up ceremony?" "It's silly," she said, but there was nothing in her demeanor that seemed to indicate that she truly thought it silly. "I have been having ... concerns lately, John. Strange dreams. . . unlike others that I have had. I am wondering ... whether someone is trying to tell me something." "What sort of dreams?" asked Sheridan. He wasn't about to dismiss the concerns out of hand, even though they sounded a bit odd. After all, the Minbari often had their sensibilities informed by everything from prophecy to souls, so he wasn't about to ignore anything. "I keep ... seeing Centauri. I see Londo. And ... an eye. . ." "An eye? What sort of eye?" "Watching me. Just an eye. Nothing more than that, and then the other night, I had a dream that it looked right through me, as if I wasn't there, and straight at David. I don't know what any of it means." "Neither do I, but I have to admit, you're making me nervous as hell," said Sheridan. "John ... come back as soon as you can. I know as president of the Alliance you have responsibilities, but. . ." "I will. As soon as I can, I promise. And Delenn. . ." "Yes?" "I'll keep my eye peeled." She sighed and made no effort to hide her annoyance with him. "Sometimes I don't even know why I bother," she said, and then the screen blinked out. He realized with some frustration that he had forgotten to tell her he loved her. He hoped that she wouldn't hold it against him. The problem was, now all he could picture was an eye staring at him. "Thanks a lot, Delenn," he muttered. Garibaldi was already in the conference room, chatting with Sheridan, when Prime Minister Durla arrived. Next to him walked a fairly stunning Centauri woman whom Sheridan recognized immediately. "Lady Mariel, isn't it?" asked Sheridan. "A former wife of Londo's, correct?" "Actually," said Durla, "the Lady Mariel is, in fact, my wife now. W
e married several weeks ago." "Congratulations!" "Thank you, Mr. President," Mariel said softly. She seemed far more reserved, far less flirtatious than the last time Sheridan had encountered her. He supposed that it was only reasonable for a newly married Centauri woman to be more restrained. Still, he couldn't help but feel that there was something more to it than that. Almost a distant melancholy, as if she had lost something, rather than gained a husband. "And of course, I remember Mr. Garibaldi," continued Durla. "He came to visit us the year before last, as I recall. Matters were in something of a disarray at the time, I regret to say. We are getting things more solidly in hand, however." Durla took a seat opposite Sheridan and Garibaldi. Sheridan saw that the Lady Mariel was standing, and gestured for her to take an open chair. But Mariel shook her head, gently but firmly. "I prefer to stand," she said. "All right," Sheridan said with a shrug, and turned his attention to Durla. "So ... Mr. Prime Minister ... how may I be of service?" Then he saw Durla place a small object upon the table. "May I ask what that is?" Sheridan inquired. But before Durla could respond, it was Garibaldi who answered . "It's a recording device," he said. "I was wondering if he was going to produce it or keep it hidden." "You knew I had it?" Durla asked, clearly surprised. "You don't walk into the headquarters of a former chief of security without a few scans being done on you, without your knowing," said Garibaldi, sounding remarkably blase. "Very good. Very, very good. As you can see, though, I intend to keep this meeting open and aboveboard. Do you mind if I record it, Mr. President?" "As long as security-related matters aren't being discussed, not at all," said Sheridan gamely. "Very well, then. In truth, Mr. President, I only have one question, and then I will take up no more of your time." "All right. What would that question be?" Durla leaned forward, and there was a hawklike expression on his face. "When will you be calling off the attacks on our colonies?" Sheridan blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry ... what? Attacks ? I'm a bit unclear as to what you're talking about. . ." "Are you." Durla, for his part, didn't seem remotely puzzled. "Then I will clarify for you. Agents of your Interstellar Alliance have been secretly attacking various Centauri outposts. You see that we are endeavoring to build ourselves up, to make ourselves great again . . ." "Now just hold on," snapped Sheridan, his temper flaring. Durla steamrolled right over him. ". . . that we are attempting to purse the glory and respect that is due the Centauri Republic . . . and you snipe at us, and you endeavor to tear us down. Six months ago, there were attacks on the worlds of Morbis and Nefua. Since then, there have been more, on other worlds. Either attacks or sabotage of existing works for the purpose of slowing them down or eliminating them altogether." "That is a complete fabrication." "And is it a fabrication to say that certain members of your Alliance will never rest until Centauri Prime is wiped from the annals of galactic history?" Durla's voice was rising, and Sheridan felt as if the man were making a speech right from the board room. "It most certainly is," Sheridan told him flatly. "Is it a further fabrication to say that your Alliance has been trying to undermine the security of Centauri Prime, infiltrate it with its own people or else try to obtain influence with certain Centauri who might be amenable to disposing of the current regime?" "This is ridiculous. Mr. Prime Minister, you requested this meeting and I agreed to it. I did not agree to having baseless accusations hurled at me." "And when we agreed to peace, Mr. President, we did not do so with the intent of signing away the Centauri soul. He rose abruptly from the table. "I suggest you keep that in mind in your future dealings with Centauri Prime ... lest we feel the need to deal with you in the future in a way that will make it clear just who, and what, the Centauri are." With that, he turned and headed for the door. Marie] said nothing, barely glanced in their direction, as she silently followed Durla out of the room. Garibaldi and Sheridan stared at each other for a moment, then Sheridan said, "You want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" "Notice he took the recorder," said Garibaldi, and sure enough, it was gone. "Yeah, I noticed. Are you thinking the same thing I'm thinking, Michael?" "Grandstanding." Sheridan nodded. "He's trying to make himself look good to the folks at home. So he records this meeting, tough-talks me, and then screens it for the Centauri so he can show them that the Alliance isn't going to have Centauri Prime to kick around anymore. Lots of huzzahs for him, boos and hisses for me..." "And another step for stoking the fire of war." Sheridan fixed a steady gaze on Garibaldi. "You really think that's what he's up to?" "Don't you?" "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Problem is, I can't do anything about it. . . thanks, in no small measure, to you." "To me?" Garibaldi said in obvious surprise, apparently thinking that Sheridan was kidding. Except that Sheridan was most definitely not kidding. "Look, Michael .. ." and he sat down next to Garibaldi, leaning on the table. "You asked me to keep quiet the things that Vir told you. I did. You said he begged for the chance to handle it internally." "And he's doing the yob," Garibaldi pointed out. "That whole thing Durla was complaining about, the bombings and such . . . that has to be Vir's people. It has to be. And if Durla came in here to bitch about it, you know it has to be because Vir is hurting him. If it were just momentary setbacks, Durla wouldn't waste his time, even if it meant getting brownie points with his people." "The problem with letting Vir attend to it, however, is that he has done a good job. Or at least apparently so." "What do you mean?" "I mean, Michael," said Sheridan, looking impatient, "months ago, years ago even, the Alliance governments were ready, willing, and able to do whatever was required to hold down Centauri Prime. But time has made them complacent. People have a short memory, Michael, even when war is involved . Try to tell them now that Centauri Prime might be on a road to buildup, and you're not going to get the Alliance off its collective ass to do anything about it. It's a time of peace, Michael, and people want to keep it that way. I can understand it. But it's damned frustrating. Because it means that I can't get anyone to do anything about it until Centauri Prime has engaged in a buildup so massive that it's literally going to be coming down people's throats. At that point, it may well be too late." "Perhaps you want to call a meeting . . ." Sheridan shook his head. "Why? I'll just learn from the Alliance members what I already know, and the Centauri can hold it up as another example of anti-Centauri warmongering . Won't that be fun." "So you're saying we do nothing. We just stand by and let it happen." "We watch," Sheridan said. "We wait. And we keep our fingers crossed." "Keeping our fingers crossed," Garibaldi said with unbridled sarcasm. "Is that a military strategy now?" "One that I'm learning to depend on more and more as time goes on," said Sheridan, holding up crossed fingers on both hands.