Peter David - Out of the Darkness

“And you’re not worried about that anymore?”

“Why should I be?” Vir said reasonably. “They have David. I doubt Sheridan’s going to order a strike on a world when it would ensure the death of his son.”

“Pretty damned cold—blooded of you, Vir.”

“I’ve had to make some pretty cold—blooded choices in recent years, Mr. Garibaldi. You get used to it.” He sighed. “Perhaps I should have gone public sooner. By allowing them to dwell in the dark, I’ve let them fester and grow. But exposing them might well have meant the death of my people. With any luck, though, we’ll be able to have it both ways now. We’ve mustered enough resistance that the Drakh can be revealed for what they are will out it amounting to a death sentence for Centauri Prime.”

“You told me to trust you,” Garibaldi said, stabbing a finger at Vir. “You told me to let you handle things. To let the Centauri solve the problems of Centauri Prime. And I’ve been doing that. But it’s no longer just the Centauri’s problem. It’s John Sheridan’s problem, and Delenn’s.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Vir!”

“I said I’ll handle it,” Vir repeated firmly. “I’m heading to Centauri Prime right now. I’ve spent years—years of planning and preparing, of risking my neck and the necks of others—and it’s all coming to a head. The fact that David was taken is just further indication of that. The Drakh want vengeance… but more than that, they also want insurance. But all the insurance in the world isn’t going to help them against someone they don’t know < their enemy. Someone they think of as a patsy, a fool.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Now you ‘re the fool,” Vir said. He walked over to Garibaldi and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get David back for you, Michael. But we have to do it our way.”

“Who is we?”

“The Legions of Fire.”

Garibaldi looked at him oddly. “What?”

Vir smiled thinly. “I’ve found Earth history as interesting as Londo does. There are all sorts of end—ofthe—world scenarios, did you know that? And one of themfrom your Norse, I think it is—describes the world ending when a giant fire demon, Surtur, sweeps the world with his sword and cleanses it of all evil. That’s what the Legions of Fire are going to do, Michael. We’re going to sweep Centauri Prime clean of the blackness that’s been upon it for so long. We’re going to expose the Drakh presence to the rest of the galaxy. That way, we can point to those who are truly responsible for the fate of Centauri Prime. Prove that it’s the Drakh who should be blamed… and that this prolonged campaign of resentment and aggression has been aimed at the wrong people. That it should be stopped.”

“And you really call yourselves the Legions of Fire.”

“Do you have a better name? ” Vir asked, mildly annoyed. “We could call ourselves ‘Vir’s Victory Squad’ or ‘Cotto’s Cru—aders,’ but that might tip off who’s in charge.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Legions of Fire. Fine.” Garibaldi took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Vir… he’s my godson… and Sheridan and Delenn are my best friends in the galaxy…”

“And believe it or not, I’m your second best friend,” Vir said.

“I’ll get the job done, and David home safely. You have my word.”

“I didn’t used to think that meant a lot,” Garibaldi said, and then he shook Vir’s hand firmly. “But now I believe it does.”

By the time Garibaldi returned to Minbar, Sheridan and Delenn were gone.

Durla could not recall a time that he had wanted to cry tears of pure joy the way that he did at that moment. It was just as it had been in his dream. In fact, it was all he could do to make sure that he was not asleep. There were ships everywhere. Everywhere. The skies above the spaceport were filled with them. The ground was likewise thick with ships preparing to take off. They had come from all over, a few at a time, assembling on the only planet that seemed appropriate: the world designated K0643. The site of the failed excavation program had remained for him a stain on his otherwise perfect record. Now, however, he was prepared to erase that stain by using this backwater, nothing world as the jumping—off point for the greatest campaign in the history of the Centauri Republic. The spaceport itself was nothing particularly wonderful. The buildings had been thrown together in a purely makeshift fashion. The command center, the barracks, all of them, shoddy construction. But they were serviceable, and that was the only important thing. All of the perfection of construction, all of the craft and abilities of the hundreds of workers who had brought this moment to fruition… that was what mattered. General Rhys and all of his command staff were assembled, with last-minute checks being made, final preparations being completed. “The jumpgate has been fully tested and is online, General?” Durla asked. Rhys nodded. “Absolutely, Prime Minister.”

“No chance of sabotage?” he said darkly. “It will not go well for anyone, General, if anything should go wrong while ships are going through.”

“I tell you, sir, it is impossible,” Rhys stated flatly. “It cannot, will not happen.”

“Well, then,” and Durla nodded with approval. “That’s heartening to hear.” He looked around at the others, all waiting for his words. Surprisingly, he found himself thinking of his brother, the one whose death he had arranged out of a fit of jealousy. From time to time he had found himself wondering whether he had done the right thing. Now there was absolutely no question that he had. He had achieved the pinnacle of success, and if it was over his brother’s dead body, well… so much the better.

“We all understand, then,” Durla said. They all nodded. Naturally they did. And yet he couldn’t help but outline the intent of the fleet again, simply because he loved the sound of it: the words, the plan, his own voice. All of it. “We intend to launch a multistage assault on the Homeworlds of ninety percent of the Alliance governments. The ten percent we are sparing are small and relatively helpless… and besides, we’re going to need to get our new workers from somewhere, so we’d best leave a few worlds intact, correct?” He laughed at this, and the others quickly joined in. They know what’s good for them, he thought grimly, and continued, “If we strike hard enough, fast enough, we can immobilize them and pave the way for full-scale assaults on their holdings. This plan of attack will leave them powerless against further Centauri aggression.”

“Powerless,” one of the captains echoed. “I like the sound all that.” The others nodded in approval.

“We have,” he said proudly, “over three thousand vessels at our disposal. They represent the result of almost two decades of slave labor. Oh, the Alliance has had its suspicions, the rumors have floated about. But in the endan end which is coming quite soon—they were too lazy, and we, too clever.”

“The Alliance does have more ships at its disposal,” Rhys cautioned, clearly worried that his men might become overconfident. “The White Star fleet alone is a formidable one.”

“True,” Durla admitted, but then added, “however, we certainly have the single largest armada belonging to one government. We need not worry about intergovernmental disputes, or differences of opinion on the best way to attack. We will operate with one mind and one purpose, and in doing that… we cannot lose.”

“Coordination is indeed going to be the key,” General Rhys said. “Prime Minister, if I may…” Durla gestured for him to continue. “You all have been given predetermined points in hyperspace that will provide you access to each of your respective targets. Failsafe points, if you will. You will stay on point until everyone is in place. Then we will launch full, simultaneous strikes on all the targets at once. You will attack military sites, the capitals, and communication centers, cutting off all the Alliance worlds from one another, instilling fear, and dividing them in panic. Since the Centauri fleet outnumbers any other single fleet, we will be able to hit our enemies in waves, one after the other, before the Alliance can organize its scattered members into any kind of cohesive force.” He took a deep breath, and said, “On receiving the go-codes from the prime minister, you will launch your assaults.” There was a momentary confused look shared among the captains. One of them said, “Not from you, sir?”