“A… little business is all. Nothing important.”
“Is it connected to Lady Morella’s murder? A horrible business that. I hear the murderer is in custody?”
“A… suspect is in custody, Lady. His guilt has not yet been determined.”
“Oh really? Well, we have ways of determining guilt, don’t we, my dear?” She smiled at her companion.
Londo had met Cartagia a few times. Nephew of the late Emperor Turhan, Cartagia was peripherally connected to the royal line, and therefore bore watching. He was not an impressive addition to it, it had to be said. Londo half wondered whether he was still drooling – a habit from his childhood.
“Absolutely,” Cartagia said. “We can rustle up a few of the palace torturers… sorry… pain technicians. Pain technicians? I mean what sort of a stupid name is that? Really! You wouldn’t have thought the name would matter, would you, but nooooo, they’re all organised, and insist they’re called pain technicians. I don’t know. Anyway, we can soon sort this out.”
“Torture would be… ill–advised at present, lord.”
“Are you denying me my fun, Mollari? That’s not very pleasant of you, is it?”
“Shut up, dear,” Elrisia said calmly. Londo had never seen a member of Centauri royalty sulk before. It was quite an entertaining experience.
“My congratulations on your recent engagement,” Londo said. “Where is our Emperor anyway?”
“Resting. He had quite an… energetic night. He will be up in time for his audience with the Centarum. There is the matter of choosing a replacement for poor Urza, for one thing.”
“Yes,” Londo said, trying not to grit his teeth together. ’Poor Urza’ had been a friend. A good friend, and if his death had been an accident, then Londo was a Jovian treeworm.
“The Emperor and I have felt that you are overburdened in your current duties, Londo,” Elrisia said. “You have performed such sterling work that it didn’t seem right burdening you with more responsibilities when you should be resting. You are not as young as you once were.”
“My… duties to my people keep me young, my lady. Who… who will you recommend to the Centarum?”
“Oh, Lord Jarno has done wonderful work lately. He deserves some recognition, don’t you think?”
“Of course, my lady. You are quite right.” Lord Jarno? The man was an idiot! Londo remembered a speech he had given to the Centarum once. Afterwards, everyone had unanimously voted that he be sterilised in the best interests of the species. Of course, he was married to Lady Jarno, which amounted to the same thing really.
Lord Jarno was also known to gamble a little. No, he was known to gamble a lot. So did Londo, of course, but at least he knew when to quit. Lord Jarno didn’t, and as a result owed quite a sum to, of all people, Lord Refa. Under Centauri law, Refa – or the holder of his estates, Lady Elrisia – would be perfectly entitled to seize Jarno’s holdings as part payment of the debt. That would make him easily malleable, no?
“A fine choice,” Londo agreed. He had his own suspicions about recent ’accidental’ deaths on Centauri Prime, and his own suspicions about who was behind them. He was also far too old to be dodging assassination attempts all the time.
“We’re very glad you approve, Londo. I am sorry, but I think it is time I went and woke the Emperor up. Good day, Londo.”
“My lady. Prince Cartagia.” They departed, and Londo was left to mutter angrily to himself. Women in politics! Bah! Next thing she would want to be Emperor!
He badly needed a rest. And a drink. And a game of cards. And…
Traffic in to Proxima 3 was very rare these days. The whole colony was under tight control. With the arrival of the Minbari anticipated at any moment, few wanted to go there anyway. Especially not the Narns.
The Kha’Ri had officially refused any help to Proxima – ostensibly for reasons to do with their current, and rather uneventful, war with the Centauri. In fact, the Kha’Ri recognised a losing cause when they saw one, and were more than capable of thinking up ways to destroy their own ships without throwing them in front of a very angry Minbari armada. And for those members of the Kha’Ri – such as Councillor Na’Toth – who were aware of certain… deeper matters at work, helping a colony they might well end up having to fight at a future date did not make a great deal of sense. Ha’Cormar’ah G’Kar’s opinions on the matter were not recorded, but Ta’Lon knew that G’Kar would help if he could.
Who he would help was anyone’s guess.
Ta’Lon would doubtless find it difficult to get into Proxima 3, especially as, if his estimates and information were correct, he would be arriving only a few hours before the Minbari. While the Resistance Government might be quite happy at the arrival of another ship, Ta’Lon would have little time to do what he needed to do.
He had been out of contact with most of G’Kar’s agents for some time. Epsilon 3 had been silent, the Centauri aide with access to the Grey Council provided what little he could, and the agents among the Non-Aligned Worlds knew little of importance outside their own little areas.
As such Ta’Lon knew nothing about recent events on Proxima. He did not know about Satai Delenn’s transformation and escape. He did not know of Captain Sheridan’s defection. He did not know just how deeply the Resistance Government had given itself over to the Darkness.
What he did know was that he had a duty to his friend, to pass on one last message to his beloved. Neroon had met a warrior’s end, a fitting death, and so Ta’Lon was left with his legacy.
And so he came to Proxima… a world of darkness and deep night.
Corwin was impressed by the Parmenion. As he and the Captain were shown around by Major Krantz, he took special notice of the ship’s unique features.
It was a heavy class destroyer ship, a similar type to the Babylon. The Babylon, however, had undergone so many upgrades, conversions and last minute botch-job repairs over the years that it was, quite literally, in a class of its own. The Parmenion was newer, cleaner, fitter and far readier.
“The crew have been trained and drilled extensively,” Krantz was saying. “They’re looking forward to meeting you. They’re the best Mr. Bester can find. Some of them are… soldiers of fortune of a sort…”
“You mean mercenaries,” Corwin provided darkly.
“They fight for us. They fight for Mr. Bester. What does it matter how much they’re being paid? Most of the crew is human, but there are a few aliens – Narns mainly. Some secret elements in the Narn military have been working quite closely with Mr. Bester. Some of the Kha’Ri are quite interested in his work here in Sanctuary and have been funding our activities.”
“How come Proxima’s never heard about any of this?” Corwin asked.
“They have. A little, anyway. Mr. Bester has lent them support from time to time. They just don’t know the specifics, that’s all. We’ll operate more in the open when the right time comes. A few members of the Non-Aligned Worlds know about us. We’ve been having a few skirmishes lately with a race called the Streibs. Not very nice people at all.
“You’ll have a chance to meet the bridge crew soon enough, but there’s someone special you ought to meet first.”
Krantz stopped at a door, and activated the bell. A few moments later it opened, and a very young woman stepped out. Corwin blinked and then looked at her. She was wearing typical Psi Corps clothing – dark and utilitarian, with black gloves and the Psi Corps insignia. She couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.
“Alisa Beldon,” she said, introducing herself. “Telepath rating P eight. So far. Primary telepath aboard the Parmenion.”
Corwin shook her hand and introduced himself. The Captain did likewise.
“I’m glad to have met you, Captain Sheridan,” she said. “I remember hearing the news about the Black Star. I was only seven at the time, but I remember the partying and…”