Peter David - Out of the Darkness

“That’s good. That’s very good. Would you like to watch, Mariel?”

“Watch?” She froze at four feet.

“Watch me transmit the codes that will launch the attack.”

“Of course, my love.”

He turned back to the transmitter and began to manipulate the controls.

Three feet… two…

Suddenly he turned and aimed his weapon at her. “I don’t believe you,” he said, and fired.

At point—blank range, he should not have missed. But Mariel twisted out of the way, the bolt barely grazing her hip, and then she was upon him. She grabbed at the gun with both hands, shoving it away from her, trying to shake it out of his hands, as Durla struggled against her. He shoved her away, tried to aim quickly, but slipped on the blood. Mariel leaped desperately, landed full on top of him, momentarily knocking the wind out of him, and they rolled across the floor. The gun fired wide, ricocheting harmlessly off the wall.

Durla managed to get to his feet, and Mariel clung on, like a spider holding on to a wind—tossed web. They were away from the blood, moving toward the balcony, and Mariel had a better grip on his gun hand this time. But Durla grabbed her trailing length of hair, twisting it around his free hand. She let out a howl of pain but did not let go.

“Stupid cow!” he howled as they staggered about. “I remade the world for you!”

“But I won’t let you end it for me!” she cried out.

Her strength, her resolve, momentarily lessened, and then she thought of every time he’d struck her, every time she’d submitted to his abuse, and a fire of fury boiled through her veins. Mariel pushed back, as hard as she could, one desperate shove.

Durla’s back hit the balcony railing, and he overbalanced, flipping over. An eight—story drop yawned beneath him. He let out a shriek of alarm, his fingers still firmly entangled in her hair. He dropped the gun and clawed at the air, and then he tumbled over the edge of the balcony. And Mariel, entangled in his grasp like some sort of perverse lovers’ embrace, went with him.

As she fell, she felt some small degree of pleasure that he was screaming and she was not.

Londo… Vir… look! I’m flying at last was the final thought across her mind before the ground rushed up to meet them.

“Shiv’kala. Not dead, I see? Pity.”

I have no idea what prompted me to sound quite as jovial as I did. It was probably the sight of the Tower of Power lying in ruin and rubble out in the town.

Shiv’kala, for his part, seemed positively disconcerted. How long I had waited to see him that way. He was covering it as best as he could, to preserve what he fancied as his dignity and mysterious reserve. But we had been “together” too long. I could tell that he was trying not to panic, and only barely succeeding.

He had appeared, as always, out of the shadows in my inner sanctum. I still did not know how he had gotten there and, frankly, had stopped caring.” No, Londo… still not dead,” he whispered. “And not for want of trying by your… associates.”

“Are you implying that I had something to do with this?” I demanded. “How would you suggest I did that? Your little friend watches me at all times. If I were helping to run an underground rebellion, I think you would have known.”

He advanced on me, his red eyes burning into me. “You always keep certain thoughts buried just below the surface, Londo. The keeper senses it, even if he can do nothing about it. I suspect they may have to do with your ‘associates’…”

“Again that word. I am emperor. I work with any number of people. I remind you that your precious Durla is as much my associate as Vir.”

“Not anymore. Durla is dead.”

That brought me up short. “Dead?” I whispered. “When?”

“Moments ago. After he annihilated his ministry. He fell to his death off a balcony, locked in combat with his wife.”

I had been standing, but suddenly the strength went from me. I sagged into a chair and for just a moment I had a mental picture of Mariel when I first saw her. Young and beautiful, and even though it was an arranged marriage and I wanted to hate her out—of—hand, I was transfixed by her comeliness. I could not have known the future, of course. Could not have known what she would become… or what I would become. And now… now…

“Mariel,” I whispered.

“She stopped Durla before he could issue the gocodes to launch the strike against the Alliance,” Shiv’kala said, sounding rather bitter. “You must attend to it.”

It took me a moment to focus on what he was saying. “I must attend to… what?”

“You must order trie ships to launch against the Alliance worlds. The invasion can still go forward…”

“Are you mad? Yes, I think you must be. Shiv’kala… it is over.” I managed to stand, because for this I wanted to be on my feet. I wanted to be eye to eye with him, not backing down. “Your involvement with our affairs, your manipulation… it is all out in the open now. The people of Centauri Prime will never support—”

“They will support what you tell them to support, Londo. With Durla gone, with the ministry gone, it is you to whom the people will turn. Rudderless, they will be looking for a captain to take control of the ship of state. You are the emperor. You are still sealed in their minds as the one who freed them from Cartagia, the one who subjugated the Narn, at least for a time. The people will follow you. The ships will attend to you. Even though you do not know the specific passwords and codes, the military will still respect your authority. You can order them to move and they will obey…”

“And what of the revelation of the Drakh involvement?” I said bitterly. “How do I explain that, on a world of Centauri Prime for Centauri?”

“We were your secret allies.”

“You controlled us! Controlled me!”

“Lie, Mollari. It’s what you’re good at. Duplicity is the single most prevalent product that Centauri Prime exports. Say that you sought us out. Say that we offered our services. Say whatever you wish, but say something—”

“You want me to say something? Very well. I will say something,” and I advanced on him. “Leave my world. You have done enough damage.”

“Have we?” His eyes narrowed. “Have you forgotten the further damage we can do?”

It was at that point that my instincts as a card player kicked in. Because I knew precisely what he was referring to. I knew he was speaking of the bombs that he and his people had claimed to have planted throughout Centauri Prime. Bombs that they had been holding over my head to keep me in line all these years.

But I was certain at that point that Vir and his people had found them, defused them. He had been so thorough in so many other matters. Either that… or they had never existed in the first place. It was the latter that I was becoming more and more convinced of—for, as I said, my card—playing instincts told me Shiv’kala was bluffing.

“You must realize,” I said carefully, “that it is indeed over. That this cannot continue. You can flood me with pain until I cannot stand, you can isolate me so that I cannot speak. You can use me as your public face and puppet ruler, but really… what is to be accomplished by this? It will not even work on the surface, for if you subsume my mind, turn me into nothing more than a shell who is your mouth piece… the people will know.

“They know how I speak, how I carry myself. They will be alert to further Drakh manipulation. If I am not myself… either they will know, or at the very least they will be sufficiently suspicious that they will not heed me.