Peter David - Out of the Darkness

And that was when the shot rang out.

I did not hear it at first, because the shouts of the crowd were so deafening. Instead what I felt, rather than saw, was a sharp sensation across my forehead. I put my hand up to it to see what it could be, and when my hand came away it was tinged pink with blood. Then there was a sound, that of a ricochet, or of so striking nearby, and then a second.

I’ve been shot, I thought, and for a moment I felt—not concern or fear—but instead an almost giddy sense of accomplishment. So long had I been haunted by the image of G’Kar with his hands at my throat, I was almost resigned to it. If I was to die at the hand of an unknown assassin, then I had managed to thwart destiny. It was cold comfort to be sure, but given the comfort I had received of late, “cold” was almost a warming trend.

Before I could think or feel anything else, I was being hauled backward by my personal guards. Durla was likewise being hurried away from the balcony, General Rhys himself ducking Durla’s head for him to make certain he was not hit. Below, the people were still cheering; they had notyet figured out what was happening.

“The emperor’s been shot!” one of the guards cried out.

And then Dunseny was standing directly in front of me. He was saying loudly and firmly, in that no—nonsense tone that only the very old can successfully carry off, “Step aside. Let me see him.” Amazingly, the guards halted in their ushering me away, and Dunseny inspected my forehead with clinical expertise. “He hasn’t been shot,” he announced sourly, and it was hard to tell whether his tone of voice; was from annoyance at those who had pronounced me injured, or because he was aggrieved to discover it wasn’t the case. He had a cloth out and was dabbing at the bleeding, which was already trickling off. “No burn marks,” he said expertly. “It’s a… A blast must have hit above or nearby him, chipped off a small piece of the building, and the flying debris cut across his head. See? It’s stopping already.”

“I am not surprised,” I growled. “Blood circulates up there for the brain, and I have not been making many demands upon it lately.” General Rhys was already barking orders both to my guards and to his own security people. Although his authority extended only to the latter, everyone was attending to every word he uttered. “Get down there! Find the shooter or shooters!

The emperor and the prime minister will stay here until the area is secured!”

“The crowd is huge, General, how will we—” one of his security staff began.

Rhys gave him a look that could have sliced him in half.

“Move!” he bellowed with such force that his voice alone almost knocked the man off his feet.

The next hour was very confused, with mixed and conflicting reports being fed to us every few minutes. Durla, the other ministers, and I returned to the room where the briefing had been held, and there was great speculation among all of them as to who or what was responsible for this atrocious assault upon my sacro—sanct person. The consensus seemed to be that the Alliance was behind it — Sheridan in particular. I did not believe it for a moment, and said so. “Sheridan may many things,” I told them flatly, “but an assassin is not one of them.” They accepted my opinion with polite attention, but I suspectedthat they believed they knew far better than I about such matters, Dunseny, meantime, expertly bandaged the wound on my head, although it was such a pathetic thing, really, that he needn’t have bothered. I can only assume that he founded that activity preferable to simply standing there and letting me bleed. General Rhys disappeared, presumably to oversee the searchand—destroy mission personally. When he returned, he did not simply enter the room. Instead he virtually exploded into it, pushing the sliding doors aside since, apparently, they did not move quickly enough to suit him. “We have him,” Rhys said without any preamble, and then added, “A more bizarre set of circumstances we have never seen.” He turned, and shouted,” Bring them in!”

When I saw who was being led into the room, I was stunned.

Brought in side by side were Yson of House Yson, and another individual. Yson, burly and taciturn as always, was glaring. But no one was noticing; it was the Yson beside him who garnered all the attention. “G’Kar?” I barely recognized my own voice. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “G’Kar?” I said again.

“The emperor remembers my name. I am flattered,” he said.

Kuto was immediately on his feet. “Immediately,” though, may be too generous a term. It took him long moments to thrust himself to standing as his bulk fought gravity and won, but just barely. “What a magnificent day!” Kuto called out, apparently creating the release for the press even as he spoke. “Yson, one of our own nobles, fought to stop a vicious, bloodthirsty Narn from shooting and killing our beloved emperor!”

“No.”

It was a young voice that had spoken, and then I saw that a number of the Prime Candidates had crowded in at the door. Clearly they had been in the midst of a struggle. Their hair was disheveled, and some of them had torn clothing. In the forefront was one I thought I recognized. But I could not remember his name if someone had put a gun to my head. I knew because, after all, someone practically had just done so, and his name still was not forthcoming.

“What do you mean, Caso?” asked Lione, graciously supplying the missing piece of information for me.

Caso pointed at Yson. “He was the one who was shooting. The Narn was trying to stop him.”

“What?” Durla sounded horrified. “A Narn saved our emperor? And… this Narn?” The notion that a Narn might have had a hand in preserving my life must have seemed for him to go against the natural order. Imagine, then, his even great astonishment when Yson himself spoke up.

“Not him,” Yson said with great annoyance. “I wasn’t shooting at the emperor. I was shooting at you, Durla.”

One of the guards stepped forward. He was carrying a phased plasma. “Yson used this, Highness,” he said, proffering it to me, as a hunter would a trophy.

“I… I don’t understand,” Durla said. To my delight, he was stammering. It was a joy seeing him coming so close to losing his composure completely. “Caso… you claim that you saw it all?”

“Not all, Prime Minister,” said Caso. For some reason, the others seemed tossing him unkind looks, but Caso did not let it perturb him. Or if it did f him, he did not let it show. “We were close enough to hear the first shot, despite tingling of the crowd around us. We fought our way through, and there discovered? Yson was struggling with his weapon, a red—haired Centauri in the proo trying to yank it from his hands.”

“A red—haired Centauri? But then how did the Narn—”

“He has a name, Durla,” I interjected, sounding far calmer than I actually was “Considering you apparently owe him your life, you could at least do him the courtesy of using it.”

Durla looked ready to argue the point, but apparently decided it was not worth it. “How did… Citizen G’Kar… become involved? And where did he come from?”

“He… was the Centauri. It was apparently a holographic disguise of some sort. Whatever device was generating it was broken during the struggle, disguise dissipated.” Durla’s eyes went wide. “A changeling net,” he whispered. “They are illegal!”

“Arrest me,” said G’Kar.

Slowly Durla rose from his seat. He was trembling with barely contained rage. Oh, I will do more than arrest you! I will have you executed for… for…”