Peter David - Out of the Darkness

Vir Cotto turned and waited politely for G’Kar to speak.

G’Kar gave it a moment’s thought, and then said, “Never mind. It will come to me later.”

Vir laughed softly at that.

And then he was gone.

It was just the two of them.

As Vir made his way hurriedly down the corridor toward Londo’s private chambers, he ran into Senna coming in the opposite direction. They stopped, facing each other. For a moment, there seemed a gap between them that no amount of effort or emotion could possibly bridge.

And then, before either of them even realized it, they were in each other’s arms, and he kissed her hungrily. He held her tightly, as if she were a lifeline.

“Come with me,” he whispered. “At least for a little while. Until we know it’s safe.”

“I will…”

“The children… do you need to bring—”

Senna shook her head. “Luc and Lyssa’s parents picked them up a few minutes ago. They have a bunker they built some time ago that they’re taking the children to. They’ll be perfectly safe.”

“I have to make a quick stop at the emperor’s private study…”

Her face was a question mark. “Why?”

“I have to get his legacy,” he told her grimly.

Londo slowly leaned forward and clearly tried to focus on G’Kar. It seemed to the Narn that Londo was seeing less with two eyes than he, G’Kar, was seeing with one.

“Can you see it?” he whispered.

G’Kar made no effort to hide his confusion. “See what?”

“Ah. You have answered my question, thank you.”

“Have I?”

“Oh yesss,” Londo told him, slurring the words. “Because if you could see it, you would not have to ask what it is you are supposed to be seeing.”

“I see.”

“Sit, sit. You have become my regular dining companion, you know. I would not want to cheat you of a final meal.”

“A final meal?” G’Kar sat opposite him and picked up a piece of fruit. He took a bite of it, wondering if it was going to be poisoned. If it was, it certainly tasted sweet. The juice ran down his face, and he made a token effort to clean it off with his sleeve. “Are you planning to kill me, then?”

“I? I make no plans. They require too much… planning.” He took a deep swig of the contents of the bottle and, for some reason, glanced at his shoulder. “I have been giving matters… much thought. And I have decided… that all of this… was about me.”

“All of what?” G’Kar was genuinely curious.

“Everything. Babylon 5 … the Shadow War… the fate of Centauri Prime… all about me.”

“Very egocentric,” G’Kar observed.

“That does not make it wrong,” Londo pointed out. He seemed to be enjoying the effect that the alcohol was having on him. All his words were slurring, one into another, and it was with difficulty that G’Kar was able to understand what he was saying. “It was in her predictions, you know. The one about the man already dead… that was easy. That was Sheridan. She also told me that I had to save the eye that does not see. Until an hour ago, I thought that referred to you.”

G’Kar was completely lost, but he was not about to admit it. “But now you no longer think that.”

“No. I think I misheard her. I think she referred, not to the ‘eye’ as in orb, but rather ‘I’ as in ‘I, myself’. Because I had all the hints, all the warnings that I needed. It was all there, right in front of me. Morella tried to warn me… and the technomage… and Vir, Great Maker knows, over and over again… they all tried to make me see. But I did not. I did not see where my path was taking me. In order to avoid the fire that awaits me at the end of my journey, I must first save… myself.”

“It sounds like a bit of a tautology,” G’Kar pointed out. “To save yourself, you must save yourself? Not very useful advice.”

“It is useful if I put it to use… which is likely also a tautology, yes? But I am emperor, and so have that prerogative.” He drank deeply again. Then he leaned forward, and said conspiratorially, “So… do you see it yet?”

“I suppose I do not,” G’Kar admitted.

“Soon enough. Where was I?”

“Saving yourself.”

“Ah, yes! Thank you, my good friend, G’Kar.” He seemed to find that phrase rather amusing. “My good friend, G’Kar. Who would have thought such unlikely words would be paired, eh? Almost as unlikely as Emperor Mollari. No… not my good friend. My… greatest friend,” and he clapped G’Kar on the shoulder. “And my greatest fear.”

“I am flattered on both counts,” G’Kar said, “that you—”

“You should be able to see it now,” Londo suddenly said, sounding somewhat annoyed. “I don’t understand why… oh. Oh, of course. I am still wearing my mantle. Naturally… naturally, you do not see it, because I am covering it. Here… hold on.” He shrugged off his ceremonial cape. G’Kar leaned forward, confused. There seemed to be some kind of lump visible now, a tumor of some sort…

Then he gasped and tried to stand up so quickly that the chair he was sitting on tumbled back with a clatter. He almost stumbled, but righted himself at the last moment.

The creature situated on Londo’s shoulder literally reeked of evil and foulness. It apparently had an eye of some sort, but the eye was just in the process of closing. G’Kar could barely make out tendrils that were extended down into the emperor’s pure white clothes.

Londo was utterly unperturbed. “You see it, yes?”

G’Kar managed to nod, but just barely.

“Very stylish, eh? Soon everyone will be wanting one, I think.”

“What… is it?”

“My conscience,” Londo told him. His thick eyebrows knitted as he tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. “Ohhh… yes. Yes, I remember. All about me. That is what this has all been.”

“Londo…” A stunned G’Kar was pointing at the creature on Londo’s shoulder.

But Londo was paying it no mind at all. In his own mind, the conversation had moved on. “All of this… has been one great epic about the loss of a man’s soul… and its eventual recovery and redemption, but only at a terrible price. As an epic story, it has potential… do you think?”

G’Kar managed a nod.

“The thing is, G’Kar… that at this point, the Drakhbelieve it or not—need me. Even as some of their number depart this world, others desire to stay. They still see me as their instrument of revenge… their puppet, to be danced with for some time to come. Without me… they have nothing. And without Sheridan and Delenn… they do not even have revenge. They hate Sheridan and Delenn, you know. Because they told the Shadows to leave… and the Shadowsdid. In some ways, the Drakh are like…” He fished for a comparison and then smiled. “… they are like children. Children abandoned by their parents and taking out their anger on the world. I can almost find it within me not tohate them. Almost. But not quite.”

“You said… ‘without Sheridan and Delenn.’ Are you saying that you intend to let them go?”

Slowly Londo managed to nod, though not without effort. “That is my intent. It will be… somewhat involved. The Drakh do not want them to leave. The Drakh want them dead. And in recent days, it has become rather important for me to do things… other than the way the Drakh desire.”

Suddenly so much of everything that had happened became clear. How long had Londo not been responsible for his actions? How long had one of those creatures sat on his shoulder, watching him, manipulating his moves? All the way back to the beginning of the War? Had the creatures told him to bomb the Narn Homeworld? Betray G’Kar? Was Londo, after all this time, genuinely an innocent man?