Peter David - Out of the Darkness

“The Houses remain the foundation of your power, Prime Minister. If that foundation crumbles…”

“Why should I care what is below me, when my destiny is that which is above me?”

Lione leaned on a chair without sitting, and shook his head. “Madness,” he muttered.

But Durla was studying him, like a small creature of prey sizing up something larger than he, trying to decide whether or not he could bring it down. “I have not forgotten your comment. Who is the power of Centauri Prime, as far as you are concerned?”

Lione regained his composure. “Why, you are, Prime Minister.”

“Now you are the one who is fencing. What did you mean?”

“You do not desire candor, Prime Minister.”

There was a deadly silence in the office for a moment. And then Durla said, “Lione… we go back quite a ways. Donot, however, assume that that lengthy relationship has weakened my resolve or ability to do what I feel needs to be done if I am being defied. Do not further assume that the fact that you head the Prime Candidates gives you a power base that is comparable with mine. If I were so inclined, I could order the military to annihilate every single one of them. The streets of Centauri Prime would flow with the blood of your precious Candidates, and parents might mourn, but otherwise life would go on.”

“You would never do such a thing,” Lione said.

Durla smiled thinly.

Suddenly the door opened and one of the most massive Centauri that Lione had ever seen walked in. He had to stop in the doorway for a moment, turning sideways slightly, in order to enter. Pure charismatic energy seemed to crackle around him. His neck was so thick that it seemed as if his head were jointed directly into the top of his torso. Furthermore, he had cut his teeth so that small fangs projected over his upper lip.

“Minister… you remember General Rhys. He’s been overseeing a number of our construction projects on assorted fringe worlds. He also did a superb job leading the recent strike forces on Mipas and other worlds. General, it is good to see you.”

General Rhys bowed deeply. But as he did so, he never took his eyes off Castig Lione.

“General,” Durla said quite conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “I’d like you to do me a service, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you wish, Prime Minister.”

“That sword hanging at your side… is it merely ceremonial?”

“Intended for ceremony, but it carries a killing edge, Prime Minister.”

“Good. Kindly draw it and decapitate Minister Lione if he does not answer to my satisfaction.”

Lione started to bark out a laugh, then the laughter choked off in his throat as smooth metal rasped against the scabbard, and he found the blade poised right against his throat. Rhys was holding it quite steady, not wavering in the slightest.

“You… you’re insane,” Lione whispered. Then he gasped as the blade edge pressed ever so slightly. That alone was enough to cause a trickle of blood to start running down. Asmall stain of pinkish red liquid… his blood… tinted his white collar.

“Look into my eyes, Lione,” said Durla. The degree of calm in his tone was absolutely frightening. Lione found himself unable to look anywhere else. “I will be able to tell if you are lying. I have become quite sensitive to attempts at duplicity. One does not reach my station in life without acquiring that ability. Lie, and I will know. Now tell me… who do you think is the true power of Centauri Prime?”

“You.”

“Ah ah ah,” Durla said scoldingly, and Rhys—without having to be told to do so—pushed the blade ever so slightly more against Lione’s throat. The minister gasped and sat bolt still, as even the slightest breath would cause the blade to drive into his throat on its own. “Did you think that I was joking? I am not. I do not joke. Ever. This is your last chance, Minister: Who is the true power of Centauri Prime?”

In truth, Durla was fully prepared for Lione to answer that it was the emperor. Durla was perfectly aware that there remained a handful of holdouts who believed that Londo Mollari still mattered in some way, shape, or form to the business of Centauri Prime. It was a quaint notion, of course. Truthfully, he would be surprised if it turned out that Lione was among those benighted few, but anything was possible.

What he was not expecting was the answer that Lione gave:

“The Lady Mariel.”

For just a moment Durla’s lips twisted in anger, and he was about to order General Rhys to dispatch Lione for good and all. If nothing else, it would prove to the other ministers that no one was immune to the ire and retribution of the prime minister.

But something in Lione’s look stopped him, and he realized with a sort of bleak horror that Lione absolutely believed it.

“Mariel? My wife?”

Lione let out a slow breath. Clearly he thought he was as good as dead. That being the case, there was no point in withholding exactly what he believed, what he thought. “We are not fools,” he told Durla with a nervous sneer. “Your obsession with her was known to all. Did you think that I was unable to tell? That none of us would figure it out? And then you wound up acquiring her in some pathetic game. What a startling coincidence.”

“It was no coincidence,” Durla replied hotly. “If you must know, Lione, the woman was attracted to me. Vir Cotto had no desire to try to hold on to her, since all she spoke of was me, and he was more than happy to see me secure her.”

“Oh, was he now. And how very convenient for him. The chances are that he played you for a fool.”

“Impossible. Cotto is nothing.”

“He was in a position to give you that for which you hungered. He must have been something”

“He is nothing, I tell you. The Lady Mariel wanted me…”

“Let us say that she did. The reason is obvious. She wanted to be able to manipulate you. She was a spy in my employ, Durla, or have you forgotten that? I know just how much information that woman was capable of acquiring. She likely learned of your fixation with her and decided to use it to her advantage. Women, after all, have no power in our government. What better way for a clever and ambitious woman like Mariel to gain influence than by sinking her claws into a man who would accede to her every whim.”

“Mine is the vision, Lione,” Durla stated flatly, his considerable aplomb beginning to erode. “Mine is the direction for Centauri Prime…”

“Right, right. Your dreams, from which you garner impressive scientific developments. How likely is that, Prime Minister? As opposed to the thought that they are being fed to you by your beloved wife, who in turn is acquiring them from contacts she has managed to cultivate. We all know you dote on her, fawn on her. She is your sense of self—worth, your inspiration, your image, all rolled into one. You are nothing without the Lady Mariel.”

“I had already achieved greatness before she ever became my wife,” Durla reminded him. He was barely managing to keep himself from leaping across the room, grabbing the sword, and dispatching Lione himself.

“You achieved it in the hopes of impressing her. Howpathetic a life is that?”

For a long moment, Durla said nothing. He fought mightily with himself not to betray a shred of the emotion roiling within him. Then, in a hoarse, choked voice, he said, “General Rhys…”

Lione braced himself for the killing stroke.

“Thank you for your assistance. Wait in the outer office please.”

If Rhys was at all disappointed that he was not going to have the opportunity to lop off Lione’s head and thereby provide some excitement to what was otherwise a fairly dull day, he did not show it. Instead he simply sheathed his sword, bowed slightly, and walked out.