Peter David - Out of the Darkness

Minister Lione sat there, clearly not quite knowing what had hit him. When Durla slowly came around to him, he automatically flinched as he saw a hand move toward him. But all Durla did was pat Lione on the shoulder, and say, “I appreciate your candor.” He touched the pale, reddish liquid on Lione’s throat. “You’ll probably want to have that looked at.” Then he walked out, leaving a dumbfounded Lione to wonder what had just transpired.

The Lady Mariel was most surprised to see her husband. He strode into their sumptuous quarters unannounced and unexpected. He had not been around much lately during the day; indeed, he had not been around that much at night, either. It was a situation that offered both pluses and minuses. Not having him around was, of course, rather nice, due to the fact that she did not love him. Oh, she feigned itmasterfully. Then again, it wasn’t hard to fake something when someone else desperately wanted to believe in it.

But if she wasn’t a party to his goings—on, it made it that much more difficult for her to get information for her beloved Vir.

Vir, who was back on Babylon 5 , putting the information she fed him to good use. She didn’t know for sure, but she would not have been surprised if her wonderful Vir was somehow involved with the rebels who were causing so much trouble for Durla and his plans. This, of course, was something she would never let on to Durla. First, it would mean betraying the incomparable Vir, and second, her own duplicity would become known. It would mean death. Her death would be unfortunate enough, but Vir’s death—that she simply could not risk. He was too glorious, too magnificent.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she felt that way about him.

Some part of her understood that she had not always embraced such depth of feeling for Vir. On some level, she knew the change had simply come over her, and she could not comprehend what had prompted it. Ultimately, though, it made no difference. Her Vir was her Vir, and that was all. However she came by her feelings, she knew they were honest and true, and every time she was with Durla, only her thoughts of Vir sustained her. At those times, things didn’t seem as bad as they were.

“My husband,” she said quickly. She had been carefully braiding the long lock of hair that was the fashion with her generation. She did not rise from the chair where she sat, in front of the makeup table. Instead she stayed where she was and watched herself in the mirror as shemeticulously continued creating the braid. “Would you forgive me if I did not get up?”

“I will try not to allow it to put a strain on our marriage,” he said, in an oddly stiff tone. “You look lovely today.”

“And you, strikingly handsome, milord husband,” she responded. She knew he liked it when she addressed him in the formal manner, and used it whenever she thought he might be in an expansive mood. It was usually enough to get him talking and spilling choice nuggets of information. “Towhat do I owe the honor of this appearance?”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, “Do you love Vir Cotto?”

She allowed the question to appear to catch her off guard. In truth, she had anticipated his asking that at some point. Indeed, the Lady Mariel made it a point to try to anticipate as much as possible, so that—should the eventuality transpire—she would be able to react with a carefully crafted reaction and response.

At least, that was the theory.

“Vir Cotto,” she said. “The ambassador? From Babylon 5 ?”

“Your previous lover,” Durla said. There was a slight edgy sharpness to his tone. “I’m sure you have some familiarity with him.”

“Yes, of course. But do I love him?” She knew full well that Durla fancied himself a true student of psychology. Often had he boasted to her of his ability to simply gaze into someone’s eyes and, by that method, determine the veracity of what they were about to say. So she had long known that the only way she could glide past a potentially awkward situation such as this would be to look him right in the eyes and lie with confidence.

The thing was, the best way to get through the lie was to use as much of the truth as possible. “To be perfectly candid, my love, Vir was simply a means to an end. I used him as a means of establishing diplomatic contacts in order to supply information to Minister Lione. Certainly you must have known that. You were aware that I was in Lione’s employ.”

“Yes. I was aware of that,” he replied slowly. She continued to braid her hair. “You have not directly answered the question, though.”

“I thought I had,” she said carelessly. Once more she met his gaze, and this time she said flatly and with no lack of conviction, “No. I do not love Vir Cotto. I love only you, my great visionary.”

It was the hardest thing she had ever said. Because the truth was that she did love Vir Cotto. The passing of years, the marriage to Durla… none of that had altered her thinking. Vir continued to be her sun, moon, and stars. She had agreed to the sham of Vir’s “losing” her to Durla, had pretended that she had always secretly harbored a fascination for the prime minister, all because Vir desired it. She wanted to help Vir, to serve him in any way she could.

She hadn’t lied about her original purpose for associating with Vir. Things, however, had changed. She had come to realize the full wonderfulness that was Vir Cotto. One treasured day, with a sudden burst of clarity, as if her previous life had been merely a dream, she abruptly had understood that Vir was the only man for her in all the universe.

She never doubted for a moment that, sooner or later, something would happen to Durla. Something nasty. Something final. Until that time, she would play the dutiful wife and think of Vir and provide him with whatever information she could garner. Because that was what Vir wanted.

Durla nodded and smiled at her affirmation of her love for him, as she had suspected he would. “You know of my dreams… my great visions,” he said.

“Of course I do. Everyone on Centauri Prime does.”

“Believe it or not, my love… in my dreams… it is you who comes to me.”

“Me?” She laughed. “I am most flattered.”

“As well you should be. It is not every woman who can serve as inspiration to the prime minister of Centauri Prime.” He was walking slowly around her, his hands draped behind his back. “However… there are some who mistake this ‘inspiration’ that you provide me.”

“Mistake? How?”

“They think that you control me. That I have some sort of…” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “…some sort of obsession that unmans me in your presence.”

“Ridiculous,” she said vehemently, even as she finished braiding her hair. “You are Durla, prime minister of Centauri Prime. You answer to no woman.”

“You know that. I know that. But they,” and he pointed in the nebulous direction of the all-present “they,” “they believe differently. And I fear that I must do something about it.”

“I will support whatever actions you decide to take, beloved.” She turned in her seat and smiled her most glowing smile.

He hit her so hard that he knocked her clear out of her chair.

Mariel fell back, striking her head on the floor. She lay there, stunned, feeling the blood welling up from between her teeth and trickling down from her nose. Her lower lip was already swelling, and her upper lip had gone numb.

She tried to stammer out something, anything, and then Durla hauled her to her feet. She tried to push him away but he was far too strong, and then he swung his hand around and struck her again. Her face reddened where he slapped her, and then he backhanded her and she went down again. Her lungs seized up with a coughing fit, and she spat out blood.