The Long Night of Centauri Prime (27 page)

Oh, Captain Lochley was there, and she was polite enough, but she tended to keep him at an emotional distance, as she apparently did with everyone. And Zack was there, but Vir always felt as if Zack was regarding him with suspicion, waiting for Vir to pull a weapon or something. That might have been Vir's imagination, but nevertheless, that was how he felt. As for the rest of the members of the Alliance, well ... they had very little patience for him indeed. It wasn't personal; they hated and feared all Centauri.

Somehow, that didn't make it any better. It was little wonder that Vir had stopped attending the gatherings altogether. This night, though ... this night was very, very different. This night, Mariel was there in full force.

When Vir went to pick her up, he was stunned to see how small her room was. It was barely large enough for someone to turn around in, and it certainly wasn't located in one of the more upscale sections ofthe station. Nevertheless, Mariel managed to look radiant. She was attired in a remarkably simple, unadorned dress, but its lack of decoration was part of its strength, for there was nothing to distract from her pure beauty. And beauty she possessed in abundance, for all that she seemed to devalue it.

When the door to her room opened, she was simply standing there, in the middle of the room as if she were on display, her hands folded daintily in front of her. Vir busily tried to remind his body that breathing was an autonomic reflex, and his lungs really shouldn't be forgetting how to expand and contract. His lungs didn't seem to be listening, and breath remained in short supply for some moments.

When he finally did start breathing regularly again, Mariel asked, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Do I ... please you, Vir? You would not be ashamed to be seen with me?"

Vir literally couldn't find words to reply. When he did speak, the result was an almost incoherent string of syllables, rather than useful phrases. Fortunately enough, the utterances managed to convey the fact that he was not the least bit ashamed.

She took a step closer to him and said softly, "I think ... when you first met me ... I was very likely a bit arrogant."

"No! No, not at all."

"If I was, you would certainly be too polite to say so. So in the event that I was ... I apologize to you now. I hope you will forgive me." She kissed him once more, and this time Vir's head fell off. At least, that was what it felt like. He stood there stupidly for a moment, then felt around for his head, reattached it to his shoulders, and somewhere during that activity, Mariel said, "Shall we go?" They went.

Vir couldn't believe the evening. It was like a dream ... except, of course, for the absence of women with suckers on their long fingers. For the entirety of the dream, Mariel was a delight. If the ambassadorial gathering was a vast ice field, as far as relations with the Centauri went, Mariel was a spring thaw, she was the warming sun, she was ...

"All that and a bag of chips," Zack Allan commented, and he nudged Vir in some sort of comradely fashion that caught Vir flatfooted.

"Excuse me?" Vir said.

"Your date," Zack said, pointing toward Mariel who was, at that moment, gaily capturing the interest of half a dozen ambassadors at once. There was a roar of laughter at some comment she made, and most of the ambassadors were smiling widely, except for one who was frowning furiously. But that wasn't of major concern, since that was how his race showed that they were happy. Fortunately the Divloda ambassador, who tended to display extreme pleasure by urinating uncontrollably, had not been able to make the gathering, to the dismay of no one at all. "She's all that and a bag of chips."

"Is that good?" asked Vir. "What do you think?" They watched Mariel working the room. The female ambassadors, Vir noted, regarded her with cool disdain bordering on outright distrust. But the male ambassadors from any race came flocking to her. Mariel was lucky that she didn't slip on the drool that was rapidly collecting on the floor. And Vir laughed. He had forgotten what the sound of his laughter was like.

"I think that's very good." Zack chucked him on the shoulder. "You lucky dog. Where did you find her, anyway?"

"She's Londo's ..." Vir caught himself. "... old ... friend."

"And now she's your new friend. Well, don't you let her get away, Vir."

"I'll certainly try not to."

Zack Allan wasn't alone in his comments. Other ambassadors, one by one and even in pairs came over to Vir during the evening, and asked him about Mariel. The problem was, Vir wasn't the world's greatest liar. He had little talent for it. As long as he had been working with Londo, that hadn't been a problem, for Londo had been more than capable of attending to that function. Now that he was on his own, however, Vir had no fallback. So this time, rather than rattling off a long, implausible story, he operated on the notion that less was more, and proceeded to be extremely vague. He met all inquiries with raised eyebrows, smiles, and occasional winks.

"Tell us truly, Vir," one ambassador said, "is she of the nobility?" Vir shrugged, looked mysterious, and rolled his eyes as if to indicate that a higher guess should be forthcoming.

"A duchess? A ... a princess?" Vir then gave a slow, lazy wink, and the ambassadors nudged one another and smiled knowingly, as if they had managed to wrangle some dark secret from Vir. Every so often, Mariel would return to Vir as if he were home base, taking him by the arm, drawing the conversations back over to him. It all began to make sense to Vir. People tended to judge one by the company one keeps. All these years, Vir had kept company with Londo Mollari, and that had worked against him terribly, in the long run. Londo was a man who held much darkness within him, and he cast a long shadow. Vir had been swallowed up in that shadow. The murkiness had clung to him long after Londo's departure. But that was now in the process of changing, as the light of Mariel broke up those shadows and left Vir standing in the light. By the wee hours, Vir felt as if he was flying.

It was at that point that Mariel came up to him once more, as she had several times before, and entwined her arm through his.

"Now is the time to leave," she said softly.

Vir had a drink in his hand, and several more working their way through his system.

"But the party's still going on!" he protested.

"Yes. And it is never good to be among the last to leave. By departing earlier, you see, it gives them time to speak of you with one another in glowing terms after you have gone."

"Ooooohhh," Vir said, not really understanding.

"Not only that, but it makes it seem as if you have things of greater importance to do. That also makes you desirable."

"Oh. That's clever. I like that. That's very clever. I only wish it were true."

And Mariel took his face in her hands and looked him squarely in the eyes, and there was great significance in her voice.

"It is true. You do have more important things to do."

Then Vir understood. He very quickly said his good-byes, and to his amazement, not only did the ambassadors seem regretful that they were leaving, but several of them made noises about wanting to see Vir again. They must get together, have lunch, have dinner, their aides would be in touch, have a good evening, have a wonderful evening, we must do this again soon. All the niceties, the traditional little pleasantries that were the standard coin of the realm of social interaction, but coin that had long been missing from Vir's personal treasury. When they left and stepped into the transport tube, Vir – still just the least bit uncertain – said softly to Mariel, "Should I ... escort you back to your room?"

She smiled at him with a smile that could melt steel.

"I'd rather you escorted me to yours."

Feeling more bold than he ever had in his entire life, Vir took her by the shoulders and kissed her. It was rather clumsy and he succeeded mainly in clonking his upper teeth against hers.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'm ... I'm ... suh ... sorry!" he stammered.

"It's all right," she assured him, and she returned the kiss with such expertise that Vir felt as if his entire body was aflame. When their lips parted, Vir whispered to her, "You are all that ... and a ... a ... a box of popcorn." She frowned. "Is that good?"

"I think that's very good," he said. And later that night, as their bodies intertwined, Vir whispered to her, "Don't leave..."

"If you want me to stay, I will," she told him.

"Yes ... yes, please stay."

And she did.

1
8.

The months passed quickly. Vir could not remember being happier. It wasn't as if Mariel was with him all the time; far from it. She came and went, heading off visiting friends or associates. But Babylon 5 apparently had become her home base, and every so often Vir would be delighted to learn that she was returning. During their time together, he was deliriously happy. And when they weren't together, Vir nevertheless still felt like a new man. He walked with more spring in his step, new confidence in his attitude. Not only that, but when others on Babylon 5 looked his way, he would greet them boldly or snap off a salute. He would walk right up to people, address them by name, ask them how they were doing. In short, he started behaving as if he had every right to be there. And others began responding to him differently, as well, treating him with the respect he should be due. When Mariel wasn't with him, they invariably asked how she was. When she was with him, they would look at Vir with open envy. He loved every moment of it. He finally felt as if he, Vir Cotto, was coming into his own – when his world came crashing down on him.

Mariel had just departed Babylon 5 again when Vir strode into his quarters – using that same snappy stride despite the fact that it was quite late. As he had in the past, he stood for a moment in the center of his quarters, already regretting her absence. She had a certain scent to her, a perfume that clung to her. He'd never asked her the name of the scent. It hadn't mattered. It was a beautiful scent. Everything about her was beautiful, wonderful ...

He picked up a picture of her that now permanently adorned his shelf, and smiled at it. The picture began to speak.

"Greetings, Chancellor. It continues to go well."

Vir let out a yelp and dropped the picture. It crashed to the floor, and he stared down at it in utter confusion. The photograph began moving, the equivalent of a video screen image. And with Mariel's voice it was saying,

"Tomorrow, as per your instruction, I'll be departing for the Nimue Homeworld. The undersecretary of Defense has offered me a standing invitation – he extended it last month during an early morning brunch, and I'm taking him up on it. I believe he will share with me some interesting insights into the Nimue Department of War." Then she paused, smiled, and nodded, as if listening to a conversation that Vir couldn't hear. "No, Chancellor, I doubt that he knows he's going to share them with me. But I can be ... persuasive ... as you well know."

Vir remembered the brunch. He had been there. And now that he thought about it, the Nimue undersecretary had been lavishing a great deal of attention upon Mariel. But he had thought nothing of that; so many people clearly found themselves drawn to her, yet at the end of the day, he was the one she went home with ... But ... what was of far greater consequence was that the picture was inexplicably still talking. How could that possibly be? It had to be some sort of trick. For Mariel hadn't gone to Nimue ... she had returned to Centauri Prime, to visit relatives. That's what she'd told him, that's what–

"No, Chancellor, I doubt Vir suspects. He remains a fool. A useful fool. He has, however, been an aid to the cause, albeit an unwitting one."

"Stop it!" Vir shouted at the picture, which gave no indication at all that it heard him. "Stop doing this! Stop it!" And suddenly, the picture did stop talking. The image of Mariel was restored to normal. Vir stared down at it, his chest heaving, and he didn't even realize at first how hard he was breathing.

"The truth hurts," a voice said. Vir whirled. Then he stared in amazement, before that amazement turned to anger.

"Of course. Kane. I should have known." The techno-mage initiate bowed slightly, as if he were on a stage. He kept his staff clenched tightly in his hand. He was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him.

"The very same," Kane acknowledged.

Vir hadn't seen him since the incident with Rem Lanas. In looking back upon it, Vir had almost felt as if the entire thing had been some sort of strange dream. Kane had appeared at a crucial moment in his life, only to slip away again, as if he had never been there. Though Vir had been certain that he would hear from the initiate soon thereafter, when he hadn't, he'd begun to wonder if he hadn't been suffering from some sort of delusion. The delusion was back now. This time, however, Vir didn't feel the slightest bit of intimidation. He pointed a trembling finger angrily at the fallen photo.

"That ... was a cruel joke to play. Why..."

"It was no joke, Vir," Kane replied. "It was an actual recording. We've been observing her ever since she set foot on the station. Once it was clear that she was going to remain here..."

"We?" demanded Vir. "There are more of you?"

"No," Kane said quickly, although he looked subtly chagrined . "I meant to say `I.'"

"I don't care what you meant to say!" Vir told him, abandoning any attempt to hide his anger. "Making up that thing about Mariel, changing her image to–"

"Vir, listen to me. I didn't make up anything. That really happened. Even an initiate has ways."

"Then have a way out!" He stepped toward Kane as if to grab him, but Kane extended his staff and shoved one end under Vir's chin.

"I wouldn't," Kane said dangerously, "if I were you." It brought Vir to a halt, and enabled his senses to come swimming back to him.

"I just want you out," Vir said stubbornly. "And I want you to stop making things up about Mariel. That trick you just did ... it's a trick. That's all."

"You do not understand," Kane told him, slowly lowering his staff. "The way of the techno-mage is the way of truth. All of our `magic' is based in, and adheres purely to, reality. We don't deviate from that path ... ever. For any of us to use our powers to misinform, that would be a violation of our most sacred beliefs."