In any event, I was packed off to Babylon 5, to serve as the aide to a lower—level politician named Londo Mollari. No one could possibly have known that the association would wind up leaving me in the highest position of power in all of Centauri Prime. Selfishly, I wish my family had survived the bombs to see it. Then again—and I know this will sound cold, but it’s also true—if my family had lived to see me attain this height, they would have been perfectly capable of planting their own bombs outside the palace, to blow the whole thing into orbit. Anything would have been preferable to allowing such a humiliating joke of a person as myself to assume power.
What can I say? That’s just the kind of loyalty I inspired in my family.
Following the escape from Centauri Prime, my arrival on Minbar was greeted with some suspicion by the local residents. I can’t entirely say I blame them. After all, the Centauri had been painted as mad—dog killers for so long, the Minbari probably couldn’t help but think that I had some sort of sinister motive planned. Sheridan and Delenn, who arrived at roughly the same time, however, intervened in this potentially sticky situation. They paved the way for my setting up a temporary “exile headquarters” on Minbar.
From that point on, the rest was simply a matter of organization. Word was sent out to the remaining heads of the Centauri Houses. Some came to Minbar curious, others came in anger, still others came seeking answers, while still others desired power. The point was… those who survived, came.
I managed to keep the debate under control. There was some initial resistance, but I was backed up by the technomages, the Alliance in the person of John Sheridan, and the awareness on the part of the House heads that the fleet was still floating around out there, looking for a target. If matters continued in a disorganized fashion for too long, someone in the military might have taken it into their head that Centauri Prime itself was ripe for military rule. Either that, or we might have had various leaders go rogue and decide to start attacking the Alliance on their own initiative. That, of course, would have been suicidal. What little of Centauri Prime was still standing wouldn’t have remained standing for long, once the Alliance started fighting back.
Thanks to the agreement that has come to be known as the Minbar Accord, the following was worked out:
The House heads have recognized my claim as emperor.
The military is being recalled to Centauri Prime, with new instructions and directions being given them. They will have the target they so desperately need to validate their fleet’s existence. That target is the Drakh. Many of the escape vessels were tracked and targeted. A number of Drakh were also captured and were… shall we say, forthcoming… about certain Drakh interests and strongholds. The Centauri fleet, in tandem with the resources of the Alliance, is going after the Drakh with a vengeance.
Sheridan has been good enough to put telepaths at the disposal of the Centauri and Alliance fleets. Telepaths capable of detecting both the Drakh and their keepers, should any more of those vile little creatures try to spread their influence.
What has been most impressive during all of this, I must admit, is Senna. As if she has been watching, waiting, and preparing for this her entire life, she has been dealing with the House heads, the remaining ministers… all of them. They are surprisingly—even to themselves, I think—comfortable discussing such things as military, financial, and governmental matters with her. It’s unusual, consideringthat women are held, if not in low esteem, at least in lessthan—impressive regard in our society. Perhaps it is because she has been around for so long that many of them know her and feel at ease.
Perhaps, as the daughter of Lord Refa, the ward of Londo Mollari, and the beloved—yes, I’m afraid it’s that evidentof the next emperor, they see her as a connection to the far and near past and to the future. It would be premature, maybe even absurd, to think that she could one day hold a position of authority in our government. Then again, this is a time of possibilities, and why shouldn’t something such as that be possible? Such things do not happen overnight.
Sheridan and Delerm have been remarkably supportive. At one point, Delenn looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Vir… you’re a living symbol of everything that is positive about Centauri culture.” Hard not to be flattered over something like that. Sheridan has likewise been forthcoming with his help, support, and insight. I very much doubt whether I could have held matters together in the initial stages if his presence had not sent a very distinct message.
Their son, David, on the other hand… well… that is another matter…
chapter 29
David pulled once more against the restraints, his face twisted in fury. For Delenn, watching from the edge of the room, it took every amount of strength and self—control she possessed not to let her grief be displayed. Those monsters might be watching her at this very moment, peering through the hideous eye that sat unblinkingly upon her son’s shoulder, at the base of his neck.
Nude from the waist up, David had absolutely no chance of tearing free of the straps that held him firmly to the chair. That did not, however, stop him from trying.
The keeper remained inscrutable, but it was his actions they were viewing. Delenn was quite sure of that.
A score of Minbari doctors and scientists had been throughthe medical facility, studying the situation from every possible angle. They were the best that the Minbari had to offer. Yet the man next to whom John Sheridan was now standing, the man who had just gotten done examining Davidhe was someone whose medical expertise Delenn trusted above all others, including that of her own kind.
“What do you think, Stephen?” Sheridan asked.
As dire as the situation was, Stephen Franklin would not be rushed. He put up a hand to quiet Sheridan as he finished studying readings he had taken.
Delenn looked at her son once more, her heart aching for her inability to help him. She knew that if anyone could, it would be Dr. Stephen Franklin. David, after all, was a unique hybrid: mostly human, but with a few Minbari traits. And he had a creature spawned from the black pit of Shadow and Drakh technology bonded to him.
Franklin’s knowledge covered all the bases. He had been an expert on Minbari physiology at a time when the Minbari were busy trying to exterminate Humans altogether. He had been squarely in the middle of the Shadow War, and his detailed research into Drakh capability during the time of the Great Plague gave him insight into the bioorganics that that insidious race was capable of.
“If anyone can help, he can.”
The hushed voice next to her, verbalizing the words in her head, startled her. She turned and let out an automatic sigh of relief when she saw Michael Garibaldi standing beside her. He had barely slept since David’s return. If he had not been consoling or giving moral support to Delenn and Sheridan, he had been by David’s side, trying to reach the boy, help him, as if he could get the teen to rid himself of the Drakh influence by willpower alone. He had been awake for so long that Sheridan had personally threatened to knock him cold just to make sure he got some sleep. Reluctantly, Garibaldi had gone off to bed, promising he’d sleep until he felt rested. That had been forty—seven minutes ago, yet she couldn’t find it in her to scold him.
“I know,” she said softly, patting him on the cheek. His three days’ growth of beard was scratchy.
Sheridan started to say “Well?” again, almost out of reflex, and then stopped himself with visible effort and waited.