The downside to that, of course, was that his friends had to suffer through the same purgatory he did, but at least the misery was spread around.
Marrago, on the other hand, seemed positively to revel in his new authority. He had been Lord-General of the armies long before Londo had risen to his exalted position, but now he had an Emperor who actually listened to him, which was a truly rare thing. Some people seemed to be of the opinion that the Emperor listened to him entirely too much. Then again, those people would much rather the Emperor listened to them instead, so their opinions didn't count for a great deal.
"I'm expecting an attack by the end of the month at the latest," he said, reporting his bleak news to the Emperor in one of their very private, late-night meetings. "The Narns seem to have pressed up their campaign after several recent unexplained and unaccountable delays. A new leadership is a strong possibility. Probably one that actually recognises the concerns of the military."
"What an unusual and fascinating concept," Londo drawled, but Marrago did not smile. He had suffered a great deal from the incompetence and mismanagement of the Court. "Can we withstand an assault on Centauri Prime?"
"I wish I knew," came the reply. "I've gathered every available ship here, and the defence grid is as ready as it will ever be. Apparently the Narns have taken substantial losses in their ground assaults on our colonies, especially at Gorash, but there has not been corresponding damage to their fleets. Ship-wise, they probably outnumber us. Whether that means they can win or not.... I'd say we can defend Centauri Prime adequately with the ships we have, but.... to be honest, Londo, I'd be much happier if I could be absolutely sure we'd win. As it is, I'm expecting a fairly bloody stand-off."
"Isn't that what happened in the last war?"
"Not quite. The last war ended in a stand-off out in mid-space. Preferable by far to it ending at our very doorstep."
"Hmm.... I wonder if we should speed things up with Mr. Morden. A Vorlon ship or two would make all the difference."
"Indeed it would.... if we could be sure we could trust them. Besides, Londo, just how much do we want to owe to this.... Morden?"
"A fine point.... but I would rather be alive and in considerable debt than dead."
"There is little risk of that. No, Centauri Prime will hold, and I think we will be able to drive the Narns away.... but as matters stand the losses on each side are likely to be horrendous. The Narns have by all accounts given considerable thought to the practicalities of a war of attrition, and they're willing to take great risks to win. In this situation in the last war, we'd be able to drive them off once they suffered minimal losses. Now.... we may well have to wipe them all out.
"It's going to be a mess, Londo, no doubt about it. A lot of good people are going to die."
"I know. But they will die for Centauri Prime, and Centauri Prime will not forget that. Not at all. How.... how is Carn?"
Marrago's face broke into a smile. "A fine soldier. By the time I'm ready to retire he'll make a perfect replacement."
"Ah.... I am so glad to hear that, although I doubt you will be retiring short of us putting you on the pyre, old friend."
"Well.... Carn is a little young. I'd be quite happy to tutor him for the next ten years or so."
"Is that all? Great Maker, I had placed a bet on your still serving well past ninety. Ah, if you retire at a pathetic seventy or so, I'll lose a lot of money."
The Lord-General laughed. "Ninety, eh? Who did you place this bet with? I think there's the possibility of some money to be made here."
"That is for me to know, and for you to find out. Besides, don't we pay you enough?"
"You don't pay me at all."
"Ah.... I think you need a talk with those cheats and swindlers at the Ministry of the Economy, then."
"No, Londo. On the whole, I think I'd rather face the Narns than that."
Londo broke out into laughter, as did Marrago. Laughter had been a rare sound in the Royal Court recently, and both of them had the very depressing feeling it would not be heard very often in the future.
All the better then, to enjoy it now. While they could.
"I hate this place."
The woman lounging on the bed said nothing in reply to her companion's complaint. He was standing at the window of their apartment, looking out across the streets below. She could imagine what he was seeing, but she did not want to look at it for herself.
"I hate this place. There are mundanes everywhere, running about living their petty, worthless little lives. Almost like ants. I wonder what it would be like to reach out and squash some of them."
"Don't," she warned, fanning at her face. It was hot here. Very hot. "We're meant to be undercover, remember."
"Yes, I suppose so." He paused, and she turned to look at him, surprised at the hesitation in his tirade against everything that was his surroundings. "There was someone there.... Almost one of us, but not quite. He looks a little.... familiar. Ah, he's gone."
"You shouldn't try to scan them," she muttered irritably, swinging her long legs down from the bed. "We don't know they're all mundanes and we don't want to give ourselves away. Our kind don't go into this area unless they've got something to hide."
"Hasn't everyone here got something to hide? I can see all their worthless little secrets...."
"Stop it! You're right. Everyone comes here to hide from something. That's why they call it the Pit after all. Things tend to.... disappear here. But there are secrets, and then there are secrets. Ours definitely fall into the latter category. Trust me, Al does not want this coming out."
"Hmm. I suppose you've got used to this by now, after all." Byron turned away from the window. He looked irritated, and not without reason. This was the first time he had been without his Psi Cop uniform in years. The two of them had had to leave all the regalia back at Sanctuary: gloves, badges, uniforms. Strictly speaking that was illegal, but then the rules governing the Corps had been very.... lax in recent years.
"Sort of," Talia admitted. "It's a little worrying just how easy it gets to adopt different names and faces.... almost as if my own just.... fades beneath them. It does get better though. I've been in worse places than this."
"Yes. I heard you spent several months on board that ship of theirs.... the Babylon. What was that like?"
"Strange," she replied thoughtfully. "The whole ship felt odd.... as if it didn't like me. It had alien technology built into it, but still.... I was never really comfortable there. And the Captain.... he was.... ah...." She fell silent for a moment.
"What's our plan of action then? Do we make for the IPX headquarters?"
"No," she tutted. "At least not yet. There's a reason I had us based here, and not just because we'll be hard to track. I've arranged a meeting with someone for tomorrow afternoon, in a less than reputable neighbourhood not far away. His name's Chase, and he used to be a quartermaster at the Government dome. He was transferred to IPX after he.... discovered a little more than he should have done about certain activities of his immediate superiors."
"Do you know what these activities are?" Byron asked, evidently curious.
"Naturally," she replied. "Donne uncovered a great deal for Al. Anyway.... Chase was...."
"And what was his superior up to?"
"Various things that can't be spoken of in the presence of a lady," she snapped tartly. "Let's just say there was a very good reason he and Donne would have got on so well. It doesn't matter now anyway. He's dead.
"Anyway, Chase was, in addition to his less pleasant activities, embezzling arms and so forth for sale on the black market. A couple of months ago he graduated to selling very confidential information, and IPX found out about it. They decided to go for a quicker option than trial, and hired assassins to take him out. He's been on the run for a while, and so naturally he ended up here. My preliminary survey tracked him down, and we're going to offer him a deal. He'll know something, or he'll know someone who knows something. Either way, it's a start."