That was inevitable, really. The Centauri were to all intents and purposes the losing party in this war, and such provisions were only to be expected.
There were no orders for payment of reparations by either side. Durano knew several bodies back home would insist on payment from the Narns, but he also knew that one was dead in the water from the start, so he had not pushed it.
The Alliance was to convene a full and exhaustive War Crimes Tribunal into the entire affair, investigating rumours of atrocities on both sides. The former Lord–General Marrago was at the top of the list in that area, but there were some Narns named as well. The whole passage was vague and unclear, and that summed up the reason Durano did not like this treaty, not at all.
Oh, the peace treaty was reasonable, quite fair in some respects. Had Durano negotiated the document from the very beginning, he would have been more than pleased with his efforts.
But then came the provisions for joining the United Alliance, and everything went wrong.
The Centauri Republic was to commit a set proportion of its military to work alongside the Alliance fleets, in whatever capacity they were necessary. Anyone in command of that fleet would be subject to the authority of the United Alliance Council and its General, John J. Sheridan, including the Lord–General himself. Indeed, based on the wording of the section, were Emperor Mollari to lead a ship to the Alliance in this way, he would be subject to the Council's authority.
The demands on the fleet were extortionate. Durano was not a military man, but he had worked out that those demands, coupled with the limitations on military capacity, would leave many key areas barely defensible. Even the homeworld would be defended at minimum capability.
He read on.
The Republic was to have a permanent Ambassador placed on Kazomi 7 at all times - that would be me, Durano thought grimly. This Ambassador would have the same rights and responsibilities as all other members of the Council, and his vote - or that of his assistant were he absent for any reason - would carry the same weight as any other Council member.
The Alliance would have free rein and free rights of transport across all worlds, stations and colonies of the Centauri Republic. All official Alliance parties would have freedom to travel anywhere in Centauri space. Alliance investigators would be dispatched to all Centauri worlds, to investigate the details of the Shadow involvement with the Centauri.
A permanent Alliance observer would be placed on Centauri Prime and other key locations. This observer would have access to all records, papers and private meetings, however confidential. He would report directly and solely to the Alliance Council, and would not be bound by any laws of the Republic, or any authority of any individual within the Republic, up to and including the Emperor himself.
There was more, detailing levies to be paid to the Alliance, obligations to send further military capabilities if formally requested and so forth, but most of it was irrelevant. The early passages alone were an effective acknowledgement of the slavery of every Centauri man, woman and child to the Alliance.
Durano sat back, unable to find any loopholes. Whoever had drafted the treaty, they had known what they were doing. He was not sure if the Narn membership treaty had similar provisions, having been unable to read it.
He had spoken to the Emperor about the effects this would have. Londo had looked at him with dark, haunted eyes.
"Durano.... we are a defeated race. We are doomed, all of us. Sign it.... or none of us will ever see the light again."
Durano looked up, casting his eyes around the room. The Council members were here. Almost all of them. Some of them believed the provisions were exactly what the Centauri deserved, others that they were too much. Some clearly thought they were not harsh enough.
But which was which, that was the question.
He remembered his earliest and most influential lessons.
Trust no one.
And, God is in the details.
He signed.
"I cannot help you further."
Vejar looked up at his guest, and sighed to himself. He had tried very hard to cultivate a mystique, an aura of strangeness. Here he was, alone in his darkened chamber where he cast powerful magics and sorceries and, so some probably believed, drank the blood of babies.
Unfortunately, that mystique was ruined when people kept coming in for a talk and cup of tea all the time.
Not that he objected to David Corwin's presence as such. Sooner or later the man was bound to work out just who had been responsible for aiding him during the battle with the Fist of Darkness. It spoke well that it was sooner rather than later. Vejar sensed Corwin could be a powerful ally.
But he could not help now.
"I have done all I can at this time. To act further would.... draw more attention to myself than I would like, than I can bear."
"You helped me before."
"I did, yes.... and I should not have done that."
"I need to free her. I can hear her all the time. She's trapped somewhere in the heart of my ship, in constant pain, in agony, losing her mind! You can help me free her."
"Maybe I can, maybe I cannot. We have heard whispers about the Vorlons' 'network' for some time, but its power is beyond our own. How can I say I will not kill this.... Carolyn in the process of trying to free her? How can I say this will not draw the Vorlons down upon my own head? I have no wish to die.... not yet."
"Then you're afraid."
"Of course I am. If you knew what I know, you would be afraid too."
"I see. I am going to free her. You know that."
"I know you will try. You will probably fail."
"Well, at least I will have done something!"
As Captain Corwin left, Vejar sighed again. He did not want to have to turn him away, but the time was not yet right. The war was not yet over. The Vorlons had not yet moved in force.
"You're afraid."
Vejar had power. He could cast sorceries that few could even understand. He could summon demons, hex computer systems. He could kill with a glance. He was probably the most powerful mortal being on Kazomi 7, and even the definition of mortal did not truly fit him.
But yes, he was afraid.
When he thought of the Vorlons, how could he not be?
"It is easy for you to talk, Galen," he said softly. "You don't have a Vorlon only a few hundred metres above your head."
No, but Vejar knew that that would not stop Galen even if he did.
True love is like any addictive drug, he had read once, in that it is boring and yet dangerous at the same time. John Sheridan had little doubt that his feelings for Delenn of Mir were true love, but while he had plenty of evidence to justify the dangerous part of it, at no time had their relationship ever been boring.
He did love her, he knew that. He knew also that he had become something very different while he had thought her dead. It was as if he was a poor sinner who had found there was a heaven after all, only to be thrown out of it after a few, glorious months.
And now he was doubting if he would ever see heaven again.
He could not look at Delenn now without thinking of their son, their son who had died before he had been given even a chance at life, their son who would be the only child either of them could have. A dark rage filled him, a determination to seek only revenge. But on whom? All the people to be revenged against were gone.
"John," Delenn said softly, and as always a tremble went through him when he heard his name spoken in her soft, beautifully accented voice. "We have to talk."