1-The Long Night of Centauri Prime Read online

  “Your job is not without risks, Minister Durla. Certainly you must have known that before assuming the position.”

  “All of life is risk, young lady Senna. ” He bowed and began to walk away.

  And then Senna-somewhat to her surprise-stopped him as she asked, “Minister have you noticed a reduction in the number of writers, artists … creative individuals … in residence on Centauri Prime?”

  “No more so than usual, young lady.”

  “Than usual?” She found the phrasing rather rather odd.

  “Why yes. Such types are notoriously undependable and prone to difficulties. They starve for their art and so are lost … or they require dangerous drugs or drink in order to achieve their `creative vision,’ and come to harm through improper dosage.

  “And then, of course, there are those of a radical bent. A thoroughly pugnacious and bellicose type, given to unfortunate accidents through altercations with others who possess opposing viewpoints. A rather sordid crowd, truly,” he sighed. “Oh, I suppose that handsome, loquacious types such as Elaris make them seem … romantic. But as a group, they are quite unstable. If you do research, I think you’ll find that many of them tend to come to rather bad ends. Let us hope that Elaris is not among those.”

  Something in his last statement chilled Senna slightly. “What do you mean by that, Minister?”

  “Why, nothing, young lady. Nothing at all. Enjoy your … outdoor chats.” He bowed and then went on down the hall.

  Senna considered his words-and then went straight to the room that was usually used for her assorted lessons. She went over the room as meticulously as she could, searching for some sign of a listening device, to see if her lessons and conversations were being monitored. But she found nothing. Finally , exhausted from looking, she flopped down in a chair and sat there, wondering what Telis would say when she told him of the exchange she had just had with Durla.

  - chapter 5 -

  She only caught the flash of light from the corner of her eye.

  It was several days later and Senna was seated upon the hillside, wondering when Telis Elaris would show up. She was becoming somewhat apprehensive, for Telis was never late. In fact, he was so punctual that it bordered on the annoying.

  She realized that they had never finished their “game” of seeing images in the clouds. Fortunately, this day was as nicely cloudy as the other had been, and so she let her mind wander as she gazed upon the billowing fluff high overhead.

  She decided that one of them had taken on the shape of a giant spider. And another, with the odd crest to it and the curious convergence of shapes, looked like the emperor’s face, only scowling. Scowling at the giant spider. She found that amusing for some reason.

  So absorbed was she in her game that she barely noticed the light flash coming from the direction of the city. However, notice it she did, and she sat up quickly. It was then that she heard the explosion that had accompanied the flash. She could tell from the sound of the explosion that something large had gone up, though, and naturally her first thought was that Centauri Prime was once again under attack by the Alliance.

  She scanned the heavens, preparing herself for some follow-up blast, but all remained silent. Then there was a second, even louder explosion, and by that point a column of thick black smoke had begun rising from the source.

  Now Senna was on her feet, shading her eyes with one hand as she tried to make out precisely where the explosion had come from. Her breath caught in her throat, and she staggered slightly. Even from where she was, she could make out that the explosion had originated in the building that housed the home and office of Telis Elaris.

  She didn’t even remember starting to run. She was halfway there, her legs moving like pistons, and it was only when she realized that she was cutting her feet to ribbons on assorted stones and such that she remembered she was still holding her shoes. She stopped for a few seconds, never taking her eyes off the column of smoke, almost stumbling but recovering quickly. Then she continued to run, her breath ragged in her chest, gasping for air but never slowing down.

  She came to an incline, tripped, fell, and tumbled heels over head the rest of the way. The incline butted up against the street and she slid down it in a most undignified fashion. However, so many people were running around, pointing and calling to each other, than no one took any notice of her. She scrambled to her feet and staggered toward the place where the explosion had occurred.

  There had been some residual fire, but fortunately most of it had been contained by the time she got there. The building was already something that had become all too common on Centauri Prime: a burned-out shell. The last of the smoke was wafting heavenward, and people were pointing and speculating in hushed tones.

  Rescue workers were emerging with several bodies of persons who were obviously beyond rescue. Senna scanned their remains desperately, hoping and praying that she would not see what she most feared would be there. Her hopes and prayers went unanswered, however-the third body brought out from the ruins was clearly the charred remains of Telis Elaris. Half his face was gone, but there was enough left to recognize him.

  She turned away, her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle both her urge to scream and her urge to vomit, all at the same time.

  Then she heard one of the rescuers say, “We found this, Minister.” She forced herself to look back, and there was Durla, taking what appeared to be some sort of heavy box from one of the rescue workers. It was scorched but otherwise undamaged and Durla bowed slightly upon receiving it.

  Something within Senna snapped.

  “Murderer! ” she howled, and she launched herself straight at Durla. Thanks to her dishevelled appearance, he clearly did not recognize her at first as she charged him, fists balled, her face a mask of pure rage. She got to within five feet of him, and then two guards were there, intercepting her and lifting her off her feet. She kicked furiously, arms outstretched, fingers clawing spasmodically, and she shouted, “You did this! You’re behind this! You murdering bastard!”

  It was then that Durla realized who it was shouting at him. “Young lady!” he said in obvious surprise.

  “Don’t call me that! Don’t you ever call me that! You did this! You killed him!”

  “Such ludicrous accusations. The girl is distraught. Take her back to the palace,” said Durla unflappably as he tucked the box firmly under one arm. “We shall sort this mess out later.”

  “You killed him because he was a free thinker! Because he challenged! Because he made other people think! You’ll pay for this, Durla! I’ll make you pay!”

  He shook his head sadly as Senna, still kicking and screaming, was carted away to the palace.

  “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.

  Silent . . . ly.

  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.