Peter David - Out of the Darkness

So even though the Drakh clearly had some sort of advanced mental abilities, they were hardly limitless. They were apparently able to broadcast into someone’s dream state, and were probably capable of receiving transmissions. But they were not readily capable of reading minds. Or, at the very least, they couldn’t read a mind that wasn’t cooperating.

Furthermore, Shiv’kala had waited quite a few years to come to Vir and start asking why his name had been bandied about. That indicated to Vir that their range might be limited, as well. Again, at the very least, it was limited where other species were concerned. Shiv’kala had had to wait until Vir was within reasonable proximity of the palace.

Why?

Because, as much as Vir’s stomach churned just contemplating the notion, the fact was that the royal palace of Centauri Prime had become little more than a Drakh stronghold, a cover for the Drakh power base. Although Vir had strong suspicions that their true center of power was somewhere else on Centauri Prime.

But he had no desire to let the Drakh know that he had discerned so much, so quickly. Beings of finite power they might be, but there was no underestimating the ability of the Drakh to destroy him at their slightest whim. The only reason they had not done so by this point, he decided, was that they did not perceive him as a direct threat. If they did decide he posed a threat, however, he didn’t stand a chance.

All of this went through his mind in less than a second, and by that point he was already back on the ground, “crumbling” at the mere sight of the formidable Drakh. He could tell from the Drakh’s expression that Shiv’kala was by turns taken aback, appalled, and amused at the sight of this great, groveling oaf.

The thing was, he had to give some sort of answer that would throw the Drakh off track. He couldn’t take the chance that Shiv’kala might figure out his connection to the underground. The only way to make sure of that was to present himself as a simple tool, a harmless foil who was about as capable of causing damage on his own as a wafting feather might be.

And the best thing of all was that he could tell reasonable amounts of the truth, which would be all the easier to sell to the Drakh. If there was one thing that Vir excelled at, it was sincerity. He wore sincerity as comfortably as other Centauri wore high hair.

“I… I was told to,” he stammered out.

“By whom?”

“By… by…” He licked his lips. “By a technomage.”

“Anhhh…” Obviously it hadn’t been the answer the Drakh was expecting, but neither did it seem to surprise him. “Atechno—mage. And where have you encountered a technomage?”

“Back on Babylon 5 . I first met them when I was serving Londo.” The words were tumbling over each other. It wasn’t really that long ago—a minor part of a lifetime, reallythat Vir Cotto had been a bumbling, tongue—twisted, and perpetually anxious young man. Vir remembered that Vir—thatwas almost nostalgically. At the time, life had seemed hideously complex.

He remembered quite clearly the man he had been, and had no trouble at all summoning the Vir from years gone by. He took that much younger Vir, slipped him on like a comfortable overcoat, and impersonated him with tremendous facility. “Londo, he… he wanted the technomages’ blessing and… and… and… and…”

Shiv’kala nodded, and moved his hand in a slight clockwise motion as if to indicate to Vir that he should get on with it.

“…and he sent me to them to tell them he wanted to suhsuh—see them!” Vir continued. “I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. No. No, it wasn’t. Because they came to me, and told me to walk into the palace and say your… that name. Why? Why would they do that? Please, tell me…” And he started to sob. It was amazing to him how easily the tears came. Then again, considering everything he had been through, all the horrors he had witnessed, perhaps the impressive thing was that he was ever able to prevent himself from crying.

He reasoned that the best thing to do was allow the Drakh, all unknowingly, to fill in the gaps himself. Shiv’kala, as it so happened, promptly did so. “We have our suspicions” was all the Drakh would offer, although he did add, “You would be wise, Vir Cotto, not to meddle further with magic workers. You are merely a game piece to such as they, to be discarded at will. Do you know us?” Vir shook his head fiercely. Shiv’kala glanced upward in the direction of the head. “Do you know him?” Vir looked back up, and he saw that the head of Rem Lanas was back in lieu of his own. As appalling a sight as Rem’s head had been up there, he had to admit that it was better than his.

“His… his name is Rem Lanas,” Vir managed to say, making the response seem far more of an effort than it was. “I… met him on Babylon 5 . We had drinks.”

“You have met a great many people on Babylon 5 , it seems.”

“I… I…” He tried to find something to say, and finally settled on, “I have a lot of free time on my hands.”

The Drakh either didn’t register the response, or didn’t care that it had been made. Vir couldn’t help but feel that Shiv’kala was assessing him right then and there, trying to determine whether Vir was indeed going to be a problem.

“You do know,” Shiv’kala said softly, “that this is all a dream. It is not happening.”

“I had been kind of hoping for that to be the case,” Vir told him.

“Be aware of one thing… we know of the predictions of the Lady Morella.”

This caused Vir to freeze where he stood. Even though he was dreaming, even though he felt no normal sensations, he was still certain he could sense his blood running cold. “Morella?”

“Londo mentioned ‘predictions’ once,” the Drakh said.” ‘Both of us, protected by visions, protected by prophecy,’ was what he said.”

Vir remembered the exchange all too well. It had been in the cell that Vir had occupied for the high crime of mentioning Shiv—‘kala’s name—at the urging of a technomage, that much at least had been the truth.

“I sought clarification from him as to what he meant. He was… less than forthcoming. At first. But we can be most persuasive. He told us of how the Lady Morella made predictions, stating that one of you would succeed the other to the throne of Centauri Prime. Since he is still with us… that leads us to believe that you will be the next ruler.”

“It’s just a prediction. It means nothing.”

“Perhaps. But be aware, Vir Cotto… should it come to pass…” And the Drakh’s mouth twisted into something approximating a smile, the single most horrific thing that Vir had seen in the entire encounter. “Should it come to pass… there is much that we can offer you.”

“I…” He gulped. “I appreciate the thought.”

“Our power is great. You can benefit by it… or be destroyed. The choice, for the moment, is yours. In the end, it may or may not remain so.”

And then he stepped back into the shadows, which seemed to reach out to claim him.

Vir stood there a moment, steadying the pounding of his hearts… and then he noticed that the shadows were continuing to stretch… toward him. Even though he knew it was a dream, even though he was certain he was not in any real danger… nevertheless, he did not like in the least what the shadows portended, and he was loath to let them touch him. He backed up, and he bumped up against the pole on which he had seen his own head. He looked up involuntarily and let out a yelp of alarm.

Senna’s head was there instead of his. It stared down at him, eyes glassy. And then the impact of Vir’s thumping against it caused her head to topple off. The head fell, spiraling, and tumbled into Vir’s arms even as he tried to do everything he could to avoid it.