Chapter 3

"WELL, at least that's over now.  We can begin preparing for the future."
      "I do not believe we have much of a future.  Not any more."
      "Oh, you do.  It just isn't the sort of future you might have imagined you were going to have."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The End.
      I have no face.
      Not any more.
      This morning I did.  This morning I had a face, I had a name, I had an identity.  Now I have none of these things.  I have a crown that gives me a headache, a throne that I do not like sitting in and an image in a mirror that I do not recognise as myself.  I do not have a name.  I have a title.
      It is Emperor.
      The room is quiet.  I am the only one here, alone.... alone with my throne, my crown, my robes.  Alone with the two bodies on the floor and the ghosts of my friends.
      There is a hole in the corner.  It is marked with shadows, a place where my friend used to stand, saying nothing that did not need to be said, merely watching.  He does not stand there any longer.  He is gone, and he will not be returning.
      Who am I?
      I am the Emperor.
      I am nobody.
      I am Emperor because a madman did not want to be, because he would rather die than take the crown and the throne for himself.  There was a time when I was determined to deny him his final laugh, to prove him wrong, to create a dynasty that would endure beyond myself, deep into the future.  I would not let him win.
      I was blind.  We were all blind, because he has won.  Not in the way he might have foreseen, but he has won all the same.  I will be the last Emperor of the Centauri Republic, and the people to come after will curse my name for my weakness and my failure.
      I have no name.  All who knew it are gone.
      I sit down on my uncomfortable throne and hear the angry words still hanging in the air.  I look at the body on the floor and remember that I used to have a name, even a face.
      Now I have nothing.
      Congratulations, Cartagia.  You were right.  All along, you were right.
      Who am I?
      No one.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The Beginning.
      The memory was still fresh.  The image of that.... nightmare passing across the sky, blotting out the light.  The echoes of its long scream still sounded in his mind.
      For one moment he almost forgot who was next to him.
      "Blessed G'Quan," the Narn pilot was whispering.  "You were right...."
      For that one moment their struggle had been forgotten.  Londo looked at his opponent again, seeing him with new eyes.  The Narn was shaking, trembling with a revelation long hidden.  He had seen religious fanatics in the streets of the capital, and the Narn had the same gleam in his eyes.
      A few moments ago they had been trying to kill each other.  Then they had heard that scream, and the thing had passed overhead.
      Londo was half-afraid it would return to destroy them.  Then he wondered if it could care.  What were they to creatures such as it?  Nothing more than insects, than microbes.  He knew somehow that it was immeasurably old, an ancient and terrible malevolence.  And he knew, he knew in the whispers and cries of the insane and in the dreams of dying men.... he knew that these creatures would come to his home.
      "Blessed G'Quan," the Narn said again.
      He lifted his head, and his red eyes looked directly into Londo's.  There was one brief moment of understanding.  "What is our struggle to such as they?" the Narn asked.  His words had a strange feel to them.  The Narn sighed.  "It was a quotation," he explained after a moment, "from one of our holiest books.  Our prophet urged us all to set aside our own wars and look to the greater enemy."
      He pointed up into the sky.  "That is the enemy he was speaking of."
      "Rubbish," Londo spat.  "You mean to tell me that you of all people recognise that.... thing?  When all the explorers and scientists and thinkers of our Republic have never so much as dreamed of the existence of something like that?"
      "I have seen them before.  Drawings from the ancient texts.  I never dreamed they were.... real.  Never.  They have returned, exactly as G'Quan foretold.  Do you even know what that means, Centauri?  It means that nothing matters any more.  Our war, our struggle.... are all irrelevant.  They will destroy everything.  I know.... and so do you."
      Londo trembled.  "You lie."
      "Do I?"
      "Pah!  I grow tired of this.  Kill me if you must, but do not insult my intelligence any longer."
      "Your words belie your fear.  Yes, I could kill you, but what would that achieve?  They will tear apart your world just as easily as mine.  How long, Centauri?  How long until they move in force?  How long have they even been awake?  Will they move for Centauri Prime tomorrow?  In a year, a century?  When?
      "They are here, and someone must do something.  And if not us, then who?"
      "Another quotation?"  The Narn nodded.  "What can we do?  What, against them?  Even if I believed you, do you seriously think we could hurt that?"
      "It has been done.  G'Quan drove them from our world once before, and he spoke of others, mortals like you and me, who fought them.  Fought them and won.  He called them.... Rangers.  It seems the Rangers are needed again."
      "And who will lead them?  You?"
      "Until another comes to do so, yes.... but that can wait.  For now, there is only one question that needs to be asked.  You have seen them.  You know what they are, and what they can do.  If we cannot live together, then we shall surely die apart.  Are you going to help me fight them, or will you stay here, and start at the shadows?"
      "Two of us is not exactly a large army."  Londo was shaking.
      "It will get bigger."
      "I must be crazy."
      "No," the Narn said softly.  "Seeing that has made us both sane.  It is the rest of the galaxy that is crazy."
      "Ah, to hell with it.  Yes.  I will join your army, Narn, such as it is."
      "As I said, it will get bigger.  And my name.... is G'Kar."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Other Beginnings, to More Recent Stories.
      It was the whole of the galaxy that was consumed with fire and darkness in the second half of the year the humans called 2261.  While Kazomi 7 faced threats from above and the Minbari people threats from within, the Centauri and the Narn faced threats from each other, from friends and allies.
      Where are they all, this spiralling circle of friends, lovers, acquaintances and enemies?  Where did they all begin, before Kazomi 7 so much as imagined the dark cloud that would consume it, before Sinoval made his final move towards his destiny, when Delenn was debating whether to remain on Proxima with the one she still loved, when Sonovar still dreamed futile dreams that he could win?
      Where are they all?
      On Proxima 3, all is quiet.  Well, perhaps quiet is a relative term, but the wars are over, General Ryan still lives, the world still abides under a new and difficult occupation, the network is humming in peaceful monotony.
      Mr. Morden is ready to leave at last.  Proxima can survive without him, and he has been away too long.  Matters on Centauri Prime are perilously close to explosion again.  He is needed there, and this time he will not be forced out, not by anyone.
      Lord-General Marrago returns home from a routine patrol of the front lines.  Expansion and liberation of former Centauri worlds now occupied by the Narns are little more than a pipe-dream at the moment.  Too many resources will be needed just to hold the territories they currently control.  The Alliance has not yet joined the side of the Narns, but it is inevitable.  Trade sanctions are hitting the homeworld hard, and Marrago knows there are no allies he can turn to.  Well.... there might be one, but the cost of that deal would be too much for him to pay.
      Carn Mollari remains behind at the line, waiting and watching, his mind troubled.  He listens to his Lord-General, he obeys him, and in the back of his mind he thinks about how both of them have changed.  The Lord-General is not the man he was, but then neither is Carn himself....
      On the other side of the line, Warleader Na'Tok waits patiently.  He has taken the seat of a great man, but it is a position he has earned through patience.  The Kha'Ri is torn between taking the war back to the enemy, or demanding Alliance assistance.  While they debate, Na'Tok is content to wait.  He will take boredom over death any day.
      Lyndisty wiles away the days in empty, frivolous pursuits.  She goes to balls, she dances with eligible suitors, she breaks several hearts.  She is the perfect daughter of a Centauri noble.  But in her mind's eye she rehearses fighting styles, weapon techniques, tactics and strategies.  For all that their tie is not one of blood, she is truly her father's daughter, even while she knows the need for secrecy.  As her father once said, a weapon hidden is worth three revealed.
      Minister Durano watches her, as he watches everyone.  He knows her secret.  He knows her father's secret.  Secrets are his food and drink (though not wine - he rarely drinks, and then only to maintain a semblance of normality).  And yet this one he has not used.  It is his own hidden weapon, and he ponders just how to employ it - for the good of the Republic, or for his own good?  A mere year ago there would have been no question, but now.... times are changing.  A dark ambition speaks to him, a seed that was always there, but never before realised.  He is not a tool of Shadow or Vorlon, but of his own mind, trained to near-perfection in the course of his duty.  He knows his mind, but not his future, and that troubles him.
      Lennier watches them all from his place in the shadows.  No one talks to him, no one even seems to acknowledge that he exists.  He is the Emperor's bodyguard, his confidant, his dark shadow.  Some tried originally to gain his support, only to learn that he has no interest in their games, in their mini-wars, or even in the greater one.  The only war he fights at present is the one for control of his soul, a war in which he continues to survive, but for which the cost is growing slowly, a day at a time.  Soon there will be nothing left to save.
      Lord Kiro has long since lost whatever soul he once possessed.  He sits in a darkened, abandoned room, lit only by flickering flames, and he looks at the artefact he has been given, the last remnant of an all-but-dead race.  He looks at the thing growing within it, and he feeds it with his blood.  Soon, he knows, it will awake, and he will ride it to his glory, and to the throne.
      Lady Mariel watches him, and trembles.  No longer is she beautiful.  No longer is she dressed in the finest of gowns.  No longer does she eat the richest of foods.  No longer is her mind the sharp blade beneath the soft cushion.  Her body is scarred and blackened, her clothes are but rags, her stomach is eating away at her vitals.  Her mind is filled with fear and a most unenlightened madness - and by thoughts of poison.
      Her sister-wife - not Daggair, whom she had murdered in the coldest blood, but Timov, now Lady Consort, Empress to some, although not to her face - dances with the nobles, her eyes always warily on her husband.  He pretends not to notice, and she pretends not to have noticed that he has noticed.  He would be surprised to learn of the things she has been doing behind his back, of the sacrifices and decisions she has made for the good of the Republic.  He would be surprised to learn how much she cares about the people, not just his people, but hers also.
      Or maybe not.  Emperor Mollari II understands and sees more than most give him credit for.  In some things, however, he is sadly blind.
      And on another world many light years away, his friend, his enemy, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, seeks answers, seeks peace, seeks understanding.  He has sought these things for as long as he can remember, but with each passing day they slip further and further beyond his grasp.
      That is how matters stand now, two proud races at war, the same war that has raged for three years.  There is a feeling in both camps that an end is near at hand, but what sort of end?  And will it be possible for that ending to prove that war would have been better?
      All things are possible.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

It was strange, thought Lyndisty of House Marrago, how swiftly she moved between forms, sometimes even with a speed that surprised herself, rarely she even surprised her father.
      She supposed that was a testament to the skill of his training.  She also supposed it was a good thing.  She could be almost anything she wanted: a happy, frivolous, giddy noblewoman, a true child of the Court, concerned only with balls and shopping and intrigue and the endless chatter of romance.
      But then, with a split second's motion, she could become cool and professional and dangerous.  She could analyse politics and tactics and history almost instantly.  To the few who even imagined her second persona, most notably of course her father, it was assumed that her public face was merely an act, an elaborate charade.
      They were wrong.  Even her father was wrong, although that was not a thought she cared to admit.  She was both people, both personalities, inhabiting the same body.  She did not know where one form began and another ended.  She did not even know which one was the true her.
      These feelings had been growing within her for a while, but her encounter with the outlaws some months ago had accelerated their growth.  Her petty, giddy 'Court' mind told her to ignore them.  These people were undesirables, they did not matter.  If they wanted to work, then surely they could find work.  How difficult could it be?  No, they were just lazy, turning to banditry no doubt because of their innate criminal tendencies.  Besides, they were only peasants.
      But then another part of her realised that was simply not true.  What they had said to her, the anger and the frustration in their voices....  She did not know.
      Still, she was trying to forget.  Sometimes knowledge and understanding were terrible burdens, and she tried to assuage them by burying herself in ignorance and idleness for a while.  Her father had come to Court for a meeting of the Emperor's Council, and he had promised to take her shopping afterwards.  There would be little to buy, of course.  This beastly war had cut off most of the trade routes, but there might still be some bargains.  She would need a new dress for the ball in a few weeks.
      Ignorance would be welcome, but she knew she would not be able to accept that.  She would ask her father what had happened in the meeting, and she would analyse what he told her.  He would probably want to take her to weapons training afterwards as well.
      She looked up uncomfortably, noticing that the guard was looking at her awkwardly.  She flashed him her most brainless smile and he looked away sharply.  She wondered if he had been admiring her.... or simply checking she was all right.  It was becoming harder to remain in one personality for long now.  Perhaps she had been doing something a proper lady was not meant to do, like sitting tensed, ready for an attack.
      She sighed in what she hoped was a suitably melodramatic fashion and turned away from the guard.  She was waiting in the reception room outside the Council Chamber, and there was nothing here.  She could have spent the few hours of the meeting with some young ladies of her own age, acquaintances with whom she had shared many pointless hours of idle gossip, but she could not face that now.  She was half-afraid she would let her mask slip.
      She started as a figure suddenly appeared in the corner, and instinctively slid her wrist dagger into her hand.  Then she blinked, and recognised him.
      "That will not be necessary," said the Minbari.
      He intrigued her, but he also scared her enormously.  The Emperor's Minbari companion - his exact status was largely unknown - had attracted a great deal of attention among the Court.  He rarely said anything, did anything or talked to anyone.  He merely waited and watched, dealing with the occasional potential assassin that was part and parcel of Court life with brutal efficiency.  Her friends had once persuaded her to ask her father about him, but all the Lord-General had said was his name, 'Lennier'.
      The shadows seemed to part around him as he stepped forward.  She flicked a quick glance at the guard, who was resolutely looking away.  Evidently Lennier troubled him as much as he did her.
      "I would have thought you would have been with the Council, good sir," she said hesitantly.  She had never been this close to him before.  She had never even heard him speak before.
      "I was," he said.  His voice was strange.  He was speaking Centauri flawlessly, but with a harsh accent, as though something grated in his throat.  Every so often there came an unusual pause in the middle of a word, and a visible wince.  "I left.  I have a message for you."
      "From my father?" she said.  She did not know who else would want to give her a message.  Perhaps the meeting was going on for longer than he had expected.
      "No.  There is.... something that speaks to me.  It tries to command me, but I do not let it.  Sometimes, though.... it says things that are useful.  It has a warning for you.  Someone is coming who will try to kill you."
      "What?" she said.  The word came out a little garbled - half an anguished 'What?  Who would want to kill me, you must have the wrong person' fluttering of eyelashes, and half a 'How are they going to do that?  Do you know when?  How did you know this?' clinical acceptance of the warning and a request for more information.
      "But why?" she settled on, after a pause.  "Why would anyone want to...?"
      "To get to your father.  To provoke him to make a mistake.  I have warned you, lady.  Take whatever precautions you think necessary, but do not tell anyone of this, especially not your father."
      "But why?  And what about...?"  She looked at the guard.  There was a flicker of a smile on Lennier's face.
      "He has not heard us.  He has not even seen me."  Then he turned, moved back to the corner, and all of a sudden was simply not there.
      Lyndisty trembled a little, and checked her weapons.  All of them.  The two daggers hidden up each sleeve, one in each slipper, a garroting wire fixed into an innocuous necklace and a poison capsule in a ring.  They were all there, most of them newly insisted upon by her father after the incident with the outlaws.
      She should be safe from most assailants, but somehow.... she did not feel comforted by that.  In fact, quite the reverse.
      Ten minutes later the meeting ended and her father came out, his face dark.  He still offered to take her shopping, but she found herself not in the mood, not at all.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Blood.... blood was life.  A circle.  Life began in blood, and ended in it.  Always it had been a symbol for change, for beginnings and endings....
      For power.
      Blood.... blood and fire.
      The shadows danced in the flickering light cast by the few flames that were burning.  A small fire at the moment, but one that would rise up again, greater and greater, rising to an inferno that would sweep the world, and then the Republic, and then the galaxy.
      Once that fire had raged almost unchecked.  Selini alone of the homeworld had escaped its power.  The Dark Masters had seeded tools on the homeworld, instruments that had caused madness, insanity, massacres.  They did this simply by showing the truth.  First they had overseen the deaths of all those who could see - the prophetesses, the Imperial Seers, the telepaths and oracles.  All fell, by one means or another.  Then the madness had begun.
      But it had ended. First a gradual ebb, a natural thing, then through the enforcement of the new law, the new order.  Finally the seeds had been destroyed.  The ancient enemies of the Dark Masters had sent an agent here, and he had seen that all the seeds were destroyed.
      Centauri Prime could not be re-seeded.  There was not enough time.  The Dark Masters needed a new place in which to hide, a place they could hope to use for their salvation when they lost their homeworld, as they now surely would.  But if they could not even salvage that, then Centauri Prime would have another purpose, a deeper and darker purpose.
      It would be a part of their legacy, a warning, a planet of ash and spent flames.
      Oh, yes.... and of blood.
      It dripped slowly on to the flower.  The thing within the flower stirred, its form raised to monstrous proportions through the dancing lights and shadows.  Each successive drop reflected its shape, clearer with each one, more precise, larger.
      Lord Kiro felt no pain, not now.  The blood he fed it was his and his alone.  Soon it would awake.
      And then the fires would begin anew.  This time, they would never be put out.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Morden looked up at the sky and found himself imagining a dark cloud falling over it.  Two clouds in fact, one rising from the ground, the result of a million fires, and the other coming from the heavens, dark ships screaming.
      Even without that particular image the sky was dark and grey.  He could still taste smoke in it.  It had been over a year since Londo had ascended to the throne and the fires had been put out, but a legacy remained.  No matter how faint, it was an unsettling thought.  He had less time than he had been expecting.
      One of theirs was here, a Shadow minion, a powerful one too.  It was sleeping still, but would be awake soon.  Morden knew what it was, and what it was capable of.  When it did awake.... the fires would start up again, the skies would become black, the ground would become a wasted desert, and the people mindless lunatics.
      And all that just to create a place of refuge.  The Shadows knew they were losing and they needed a place to hide, a place to seed with their legacy so that they might arise again.  Centauri Prime was perfect for them, or it would be.  Uninhabited planets would suffice, but an inhabited planet was so much better, so many people to harvest and.... adapt.
      A nasty thought.  A nasty image at that, but one he could prevent from becoming reality.  He could.... sense the Shadow's minion.  Its mind was sending out tendrils of thought and fear, tendrils he could perceive and track.  At this stage it was vulnerable, and could be killed easily.  Everything would be fine.
      But that was contrary to his orders.  His instructions were very clear, with no room for ambiguity.  The Centauri had been given more than one chance to redeem themselves, far too many chances in fact.  It was time for them to learn precisely the stakes they were playing for.  Centauri Prime would find salvation, or it would burn.  There would be no middle ground.
      Which was in some ways a pity.  Morden liked this planet, and even some of the people living on it.  If things went.... right, then he might well ask to be posted here permanently.
      There was a noise to his side and he turned, smiling.  There were some people here he liked, but few more than the man standing before him, the man to whom he owed so much.
      "Nice to see you," Morden said, still smiling.  "I trust everything's been arranged."
      "Oh, yes.... Londo, I mean.... the Emperor.... his Majesty will be in his private study for the rest of the day.  No one else is there, not even his bodyguard.  For some reason he's.... been sent away.  I don't really know why myself, but there it is.  The guards....  I could have them sent away too, or bring you in as a guest, perhaps...."
      "No, that's not necessary.  That would only reveal to the Emperor our.... relationship.  We don't need to do that before it's too late.  The guards.... won't see me."
      "You'll become invisible?"
      "No, they just won't notice me.  Their eyes will slide right off me.  It's a little trick I learned some time ago.  The trouble is it'll give me a splitting headache by tonight, but, well...."
      "Will you.... ah.... need arrangements for getting off the planet in a hurry?  Again?"
      Morden smiled.  Two frantic escapes from Centauri Prime in the last few years, and neither of them accomplished just through his own skill and brilliance.  "No, not this time.  This time I'm here until the end, for good or ill."
      "Oh, dear.  Are things really going to be that bad?"
      Morden looked at Minister Vir Cotto and sighed.  He believed.  He really believed.  If all men were such as he, Morden would have a very easy life.  "I hope not," he said.  "But you can never be too sure.
      "Now, I believe the Emperor is not expecting me...."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

G'Kar debated again his only options and found himself uncomfortable with just how few they were.  Time was growing short.  Very short.  Oh, there was peace at the moment, but the moment was all.  Soon things would erupt again, and this time.... this time....
      He supposed he could have done something about the situation by now, but there had always been something else.  Two-and-a-half years, it had been.  Two-and-a-half years since the second Narn / Centauri War had begun.
      And what had he been doing in that time?  He had abandoned political power for the burden of a greater destiny.  He had believed that as a preacher he could have greater influence than as a politician, bringing change from within, bringing the idea of change to his whole people rather than a tiny proportion.
      Maybe he had been right.... then.  But now.... now he was a politician, and he was starting to wonder if his original choice had been the correct one.  His people had taken his teachings on board, but they had perverted them, badly misinterpreting the message.  He had wanted to speak of understanding, of alliances between races and peoples, of all becoming one to fight against a mutual enemy.
      And now that message of understanding had been turned into a doctrine of conquest.  Oh, the Narns would still fight the Shadows, but they would lead the war.  First they would rule the galaxy, and then they would go on to the greater war.  Foolishness, and a dark and bitter destiny that would bring them.
      "Are you sure about this?" asked a soft voice from across the table.  That voice brought him no comfort.  It had been months since he had received word that Delenn was still alive, and a few weeks since she had returned to Kazomi 7 to take up again the burden of leadership, the duty of leading the Alliance she had helped create.
      Every moment of those few weeks had been spent planning, preparing, readying.  The commissioning of the shipyards at Krindar, constant liaisons with General Sheridan at Proxima, preparing for the induction of humanity in the Alliance, dealing with the Drazi growing more and more aggressive with every passing day, hunting down Shadow agents on the planet, trying to grasp some understanding of the Vorlons....
      And above all, working with the Kha'Ri for the next phase of their war with the Centauri.
      That was what burned G'Kar, that more than anything else.  The war had been quiet for months, a bloody stalemate.  The Kha'Ri now had evidence of a Centauri alliance with the Shadows, and had used that to force aid from the Alliance.  The races were too evenly matched - the assistance of the Shadows gave the Centauri a clear advantage, but with the Alliance, with the Dark Stars, the Narns would regain prominence and would be able to push their war back to Centauri Prime, and this time they would not be driven back.
      A jihad, a holy war, being fought in his name.
      "Yes," he told Delenn.  He was sure.  This had to be avoided.  The Shadows must be driven away, yes, must be destroyed, yes.... but at what cost?  This was only doing their task for them.  They only benefited from the Narns and the Centauri tearing each other apart.
      "I have waited too long," he said again.  "Afraid to confront my own errors.  But now there is no time for fear, and no more time to wait."  And there wasn't.  The final stage of the plan for the renewed invasion of Centauri space had been sent to the Alliance Council from the Kha'Ri, passed through Ambassador G'Kael and his assistant Na'Toth.  Both were loyal to G'Kar and had informed him early.  They had also promised to delay presenting the plans as long as they could.
      For long enough to enable him to do what he must.
      G'Kar had seen the plans.  Almost every ship the Narn people could spare, backed by a full squadron of Dark Stars and support from the Drazi and Brakiri.  Ambassador Lethke had protested against his involvement with this - like G'Kar, he knew Londo too well to believe most of the stories - but he had been overruled.  The Vorlon had overruled him.
      "The war will soon be over," G'Kar whispered.  Today, tomorrow, in a few months, it would soon be over.  "But what will the peace bring?"
      "It will bring what we make of it, surely," Delenn said.
      "So there will still be no rest."  G'Kar shook his head and rose from his chair.  "I have missed you, Delenn, those long months you were gone."  She had not explained what had happened to cause her to leave Kazomi 7 when she did, but there had been no need.  Sinoval had explained to him and Londo.  If Delenn did not give credence to his beliefs, then....
      No, that was an issue for the peace, not the war.
      And surely a peace bought with terror and lies was better than a war caused by anger and truth?
      He had believed that once.
      "I am glad you have returned to us, Delenn.  I wish we had more time together."
      "As do I, but we will see each other again, G'Kar."
      "Will we?  I wish I had your faith.  Sometimes I think.... a dark cloud is putting out the lights across the galaxy.  There are very few left shining now."
      "The war will soon be over."
      "That was not what I was referring to."  He shivered.
      He wished he could have had more time to talk, but as ever in his life, there was no time.  His shuttle was leaving soon.  He had a long journey to make.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"I doubt very much that I am welcome here, Majesty, or may I just use 'Londo'?  That does not matter.  I am here with a message and a warning.
      "Yes, I vanished last time.  Again.  You really do not want to know why, nor do you need to.  Suffice it to say I was fleeing from some enemies.
      "These are the facts, Majesty.  Someone in this Court is allied with the Shadows.  Personally, I do not believe it is you, but what I believe matters very little.  The Alliance is aware of this, and they are preparing a fleet, a massive hammer-blow to shatter and ruin what remains of your Republic.  That will of course be a mercy if the Shadows achieve their wish for this planet first.
      "The last time I was here I made you an offer.  I came to you in a spirit of co-operation, of equality, in spite of the numerous favours you owed us.  Or have you forgotten the help we offered you when you were just a wanderer?
      "This time I am making no offers, no bargains, no alliances.  I am here, and you know whom I represent.  Do as we demand or we will leave you to the Alliance and to the Enemy.  Give us the power to remove the Shadows from this world, and those who have invited them here.  Give us what we want, and all will be well.  Refuse....
      "Majesty, I like this world.  I really do not want to see it collapse into fire and shadow.  That does not mean I won't."
      Morden later realised he had never seen anyone so angry as Emperor Londo Mollari was at that precise moment.  Nor had he seen anyone so adept at hiding it.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lord-General Marrago knew many wise sayings, each one accumulated as part of the débris that encrusts a soldier's life.  One of them, the one he bore in mind now, was always to solve your problems one at a time.  He tried to remember that as he walked through the long corridors of the palace for a meeting with his Emperor.
      The Shadows.  The Enemy.  He still owed them a favour.  Just the one, but one was more than enough.  The payment of the first had nearly killed his daughter - what would the second cost him?  And with every day that passed the darkness over Centauri Prime grew.
      But without the Shadows, what hope was there?  The Narns would attack, backed up by the Alliance, and Centauri Prime would fall.  The Shadows might be able to stop that.  The Narns were a problem for today, the Shadows for tomorrow.
      But what sort of tomorrow?  What would he leave his daughter and her children yet to be?
      He was ushered into Londo's private audience chamber, a room he was growing depressingly familiar with.  Countless meetings over the last few months, each one aimed at preventing the inevitable firestorm, at preparing planetary defences, at seeking some peaceful solution, at anything and everything, with nothing the only result.
      To his surprise there was no one else waiting for him.  Just Londo.  Marrago's keen dark eyes picked out the shadowy form of Londo's strange Minbari companion, but that was it.  No Durano, no Cotto, no Lady Consort.
      Marrago's hearts began to quicken.  Had Londo found out?  No, surely not.  He had to remain ignorant.  The blame had to remain diverted from the throne itself.
      "Thank you for coming so quickly, old friend," Londo said, darkness in his tone.  In fact there was much that seemed dark about the Emperor today.
      "It is ever my duty to serve, Majesty," he replied.
      "You are the only one, Marrago.  The only one of all of them.  The only one I can trust, the only one I can allow to become involved in this, the only one I can permit to know what....  You remember Mr. Morden, Ambassador Morden, I suppose now?"
      "I remember him," Marrago said, with absolute tranquillity.  He did remember Morden.  He remembered being informed by his Shadow allies that Morden would have to be dealt with, and quickly.  He was an agent of the Vorlons, a powerful and dangerous man.  Marrago had arrested him, only for him to inexplicably escape and vanish soon afterwards.
      "He has returned.  No, do not ask how he got on to the planet, or even the capital.  I hold no fault anywhere for that.  He came to see me, in a private audience.  He stood before me, and he threatened me.  Me!  On my own throne, in my own Court!  He gave me two choices, in a way that was no choice at all.
      "I could let this world fall to the Shadows, or be torn apart by the Narns.  Or I could let him bring in his.... 'associates'.  I could let him bring inquisitors and inspectors and Vorlon monsters to come and plague my world.  As if I did not know what the Vorlons did to Delenn!  As if I would regard giving them this world as a boon, as a gracious offer!
      "We know what Cartagia said as he died.  We know the promise I made to Malachi.  Shall it be said that I lied in my last words to such an old friend?  No, I will give him the better world I promised, and that will not include giving it to the Vorlons."
      "What do you wish me to do, Londo?" Marrago asked simply.
      "Whatever is necessary.  I will keep the Centauri Republic whole and safe.  We will not bend the knee to Vorlon or Shadow, or to the Alliance either.  Do what is necessary to save us, friend.  Find the Shadow presence here and burn it out.  Let no Vorlon set one encounter-suited foot on this world.  Let...."
      He stopped, and both of them turned to the window.  There was a sound, a terrible cry of triumph and exultation and pain, the cry of a dark beast being born.
      Both ran to the window and looked outside.  Neither of them saw Lennier fall to the ground, clutching his head in agony.
      Both of them looked outside and saw a red cloud rise across the sky.  And at its centre was a dark mass, a hideous, revolting flying monstrosity that was ugly because it was so beautiful.
      It cried out again, and the red cloud expanded.  Where its shadow fell, there came madness and death.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Kiro watched his creation rise.  His son, almost.  In the womb he had fed it with blood and dreams and hatred, and now before his eyes it was born.
      The flower, now swollen and bloated, cracked, and the air around it was red.  He breathed it in, and felt a sickly-sweet taint fill his lungs.  Already scarred and weak from breathing smoke, he should have coughed and spluttered, but instead he was invigorated, filled with worship for his Dark Masters, filled with conviction and strength and power such as he had not felt since he was a young man, with the sure and certain knowledge he would become Emperor.
      He glanced across at Mariel, tearing his eyes away from the birth of his beautiful son.  She was terrified, her eyes wide, racking sobs crushing her frame.  He laughed.
      He looked around at the others, his followers, the mad, the dreamers, the lost, the damned.  All come here to serve the Shadow, to serve him, to place him on the Purple Throne and elevate him to Emperor.
      "Come," he said.  "Now.... now we are ready.  Now, our Masters will show us the way."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The birth of the last of the Byakheeshaggai did not go unnoticed by its Masters.  For months they had been sheltering a small portion of their fleet, enough for two purposes: shelter, protection and rebirth if possible, and revenge if that was not.
      The screams came to them across the fabric of hyperspace and they began to move, making for the distant world of Centauri Prime.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

A million eyes turned to look upwards at once.
      Lyndisty was alone in the palace gardens, torn between meditating, practising with her weapons and contemplating her new dress.  She heard the creature's cry and immediately began running for her father.
      Timov was looking at papers, records of trade agreements and meetings with merchants and officials.  A shiver passed through her at the sound.
      Minister Durano was likewise engaged in paperwork, occasionally sipping from the still glass of water on his desk.  As the glass trembled and cracked, silver droplets falling to the floor, he started and looked up, his fabled poise trembling for the first time he could remember.
      Vir Cotto shook at the sound, his eyes flickering around the dark room.  Beside him Mr. Morden smiled slightly, and made preparations to ride out the coming storm.
      Countless light years away Carn Mollari heard something, the faintest echo in the back of his mind.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

It lived.  Once more, once again, it lived, awoken from the womb of the stars, crafted as perfect and as powerful as its race had always been.
      But something was wrong.  Where were the Guardians, where the Protectors and the Towers of Judgment, from where it would launch its first flight?  This place felt wrong, the memories it had absorbed through the blood felt wrong.  It could feel the domination of its Dark Masters, but they were not here.  They were coming, but they were not here.  Where was this place it recognised only vaguely, glimpsed in half-shadows through the slow awakening of the soul?
      There were sentients here, beings who quailed and ran from its sight.  Its consciousness expanded slowly, absorbing their thoughts and memories.  It sent forth its eyes and ears with the crimson mists, and understanding dawned slowly.
      There was consciousness here, many minds, each with the residue of potential, a race that could see beyond the veils of time, that could glimpse the soul's shadow.
      With a thought to the Dark Masters, it continued extending its consciousness.  In their name and in their service it would call all the minds of these.... Sehn'tahr'rhee into one, bringing a communion and an epiphany, and creating a world fit for the Dark Masters to make their own.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo looked out at his capital, and saw a single mass of flame.  He could hear the cries of his people, but he remained here in his palace, powerless to act.
      And he saw the creature, vast against the sky, in the centre of the red mist that swamped all the heavens, that filled the horizon, that brought madness and chaos.
      It was happening again, all of it was happening again.  Little more than a year since the inexplicable madness had all but destroyed Centauri Prime, and now it had returned, but here the madness was far from inexplicable.  Here the cause was plain for all to see.
      "Damn you, Cartagia," he swore.  "I will not let you win.  I will not!"
      He heard a noise from behind him, and turned to see Marrago come into view.  There were two members of the Palace Guard with him.  "The palace is besieged," the Lord-General said simply.  "Some of the besiegers are our own guards, driven mad.  Most of the capital is burning."
      "Yes, I can see.  Has everyone gone mad?"  He laughed.  "Can we even know?  Are communications working?"
      "Mostly, as far as we can ascertain.  I've received some reports from the rest of the planet.  Remarin has been lost, so has everywhere covered by that mist.  There's anarchy everywhere."
      "But not here," Londo said.  "Not in this palace.  Around it, yes, but not in it.  Why am I not mad?  Why not you?"
      "A question for another day, Londo, when we have more time to think.  We cannot hold this for long.  There are places from which we can escape, go into hiding, wait for reinforcements...."
      "And then what?  No, old friend.  We cannot afford to lose the palace, not after everything we sacrificed to regain it.  I cannot rule my people as some.... some hidden Emperor.  No, we have to stay here.  Can we secure the palace?"
      "Truly, I do not think so.  But if you stay, then I am honour bound to try."
      Londo smiled mirthlessly.  "Has it all come to this?  Did any of our victories matter?  Was Cartagia right, damn him?  Was he right in his dark vision?  I saw it, Marrago.  I saw forces of darkness and light battling across the sky, searing our world with their war.  Is this it?"
      "No," said a new voice, one casual and yet knowledgeable.  Both Londo and Marrago turned, the Lord-General drawing his kutari in one smooth motion.  Londo did not see his friend's face change abruptly, from mute terror to righteous fury.
      Morden stepped out from the shadows in the corner of the room.  He brushed an imaginary piece of dirt from the sleeve of his immaculate suit, a futile display of fastidiousness, and smiled.  "This is not the vision you saw, Majesty.  This is merely the beginning of it.  After all, the forces of darkness and light are not here yet.  But they will be."
      "What do you mean?" Londo spat.  "More riddles?"
      "No, no more riddles.  The Enemy is beaten, Londo.  They know it, we know it, everyone knows it, and they're preparing.  They have two goals now, only two ambitions.  First, they want to salvage something from this war, to seed worlds to begin again in another thousand years.  And if they can't have that, then, well.... they want to make sure that no one forgets them this time.  They'll die, but they won't die easily, and they'll leave a million scorched worlds behind them.  This will be one of them."
      "What?  But why?  What have we....?"
      "You were one of the first, Londo.  You and G'Kar were the first to raise arms against them.  That merits some revenge, does it not?  Also, they were contacted, almost invited here.  A bargain for a bargain.  A simple question.  What do you want?  And the price of getting what you want is a simple favour, but it is never worth it.  Ever.  Is it, Lord-General?"
      Marrago said nothing.  He could not find the words.  Londo looked at him, and the dull light of understanding rose.  "You?" he whispered, unable to believe it.  Unable to comprehend it at all.  "No.  You lie, Morden.  You lie."
      "Do I?  Ask him."
      "Londo," Marrago said, his face gone ashen.  "Londo, I...."
      "But.... how could you...?"  He turned on Morden, an anger blazing within him such as he had never known.  "You know all this and you do nothing?  Help us, damn you!  You said it yourself, we were the first.  We were the first in this damned war, and is this the price we pay for it?  Help us!"
      "You know our price.  We have no interest in saving a Shadow-tainted world, only in destroying it."
      "But you'll die, too."
      "Will I?"  Morden smiled.  "Deliver to us all those who allied with the Shadow, agree to our terms, and we will bring a fleet here.  We will destroy the creature, help restore order, and lend our strength to reforging and consolidating the Centauri Republic.  We will even help you sort out some sort of amicable deal with the Narns.  You can't say fairer than that now, can you?"
      "Get out of here!" Londo roared.  "Get out of here!"
      "I am always open to reconsideration," Morden replied calmly.  He walked forward past Marrago's guards, and stopped as he reached the door, turning.  "By the way, I am to thank for protecting you from the madness.  A fairly straightforward psionic blocking device.  I made sure you were adequately protected last time, and now I'm doing the same.  You see, Londo?  We are helping you."
      And with that he was gone.
      The Emperor of the Centauri Republic looked at his Lord-General.  It was strange, but he had never seen Marrago look so old.  "Londo....  Majesty....  I...."
      "Not now," Londo said curtly.  "Save this palace.  Serve your Emperor."  He made each word sound like a barb, and Marrago winced with every one.
      "As my Emperor commands," he said stiffly, and then he left.
      Londo looked out once more across his capital, and dark thoughts moved through his mind.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Kiro moved through the corridors of the palace, exulting in every step.  He moved unopposed, there was no one to challenge him.  The few guards who stood in his path fell before the power of his glorious son, kneeling before him and begging him to be their Emperor.  Mariel was at his side.  She could not leave him now, she was bound to him utterly.  She would not be his Empress, no.  He knew in the darkness of his mind that another was destined for that.  But she would be important.  Very much so.  She was a living reminder that, where once he had been weak, a pawn, he could so easily be strong again.  He had suffered torture and agony at her hands, and that had opened his eyes to the darkness he now saw between the stars.
      Guards moved forward to oppose him.  He stretched out his hand and his eyes flashed crimson.  Within an instant, they knelt at his feet.  He moved past them, not seeing or caring.  His eyes focussed on one thing only.
      He walked slowly up the steps to the Purple Throne and sat down.
      I am Emperor!

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He moved with the force and determination of the prophet he was, bearing his message in front of him as a talisman.  Those he saw trembled before him.  None dared block him as he walked closer and closer towards the seat of power of his people, a place he had once trod, and now, through necessity of circumstance, would tread again.
      The guards stepped aside, bowing reverently.  He did not notice them.
      The familiar chamber opened up before him, and there was a hush as its inhabitants saw him enter.  Slowly, drawing out every moment, he walked towards the podium in the centre and looked up at the collected Circles all around him.
      Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar opened his mouth and began to address the Kha'Ri.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lord-General Marrago could feel his world collapsing around him, the final death of everything he had ever believed in or trusted.  Two things alone remained.  First, Lyndisty.  He had to see her safe.  He had to.  And second, he must die as a servant of the Republic.  He knew his duty.  He would die, and all his sins would be washed clean.  There was no other option now.
      Or so he thought until he returned to his quarters and found the Drakh waiting for him.
      "Peace," hissed the Drakh.  "A favour is owed.  One last favour, yes?"
      Marrago's kutari was already in his hand.  "You think I will give you anything after this?  That creature tearing up my world?  That is yours, isn't it?  And mine, too?"
      "Its delivery was the first payment, yes.  There is a second."
      "I will give you nothing."
      "We can call it off now.  It has done its task.  It can be taken elsewhere.  All can be well again.  Your world, your people, they can be strong again, strong and united.  All we need is your one favour."
      "What this time?  My right arm?"
      "Your daughter."  There was a moment's pause as the two words hung in the air.  "She will be Empress of the new Centauri Republic.  Through her will come the new Emperors, the leaders who will bring you back to glory.  Give her to us, and we will ensure your survival, your greater destiny."
      There was no thought, no moment of conception.  The kutari moved, Marrago moved.  The two were as one.  An instant later the Drakh was dead, collapsed on the floor.
      Dark clouds swept across Marrago's eyes, a terrible rage, a fire that would blaze within him.  It would burn itself out soon enough, but he had time.  He could do what was necessary.
      Find Lyndisty, and then die in his Emperor's service.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lyndisty ran, her skirts hitched up in a most undignified manner.  Her mother, could she but see this, would be having a heart attack.  Lyndisty did not care.
      She moved through the palace swiftly, preferring speed to stealth.  It did not seem to matter.  No one stopped her.  She saw fighting, she saw those she knew standing still as statues, she saw comatose bodies drooling, chewing on their lips, blood flowing down their chins.
      And still she ran.
      The throne room.  That would be a safe place.  That was where the Emperor would be, and he would know where her father was.  Then everything would be all right.
      She pushed her way through the doors and took a step inside, then she stopped.
      There was someone on the throne, but it was not the Emperor.
      Lord Kiro smiled.  "My Empress," he said, welcoming her.  "You have arrived at last."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The byakheeshaggai raised its head and looked up, trembling with anticipation.  In the skies, in the heavens, came its Dark Masters.  One by one they emerged above Centauri Prime, encircling the planet.  They would claim it for their own.  They would claim these people for their own.  Temples would be built in their Name, to their worship.
      The byakheeshaggai imagined the future and marvelled at it.  It howled, and the red cloud expanded.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He could hear it somewhere, just at the back of his mind, a million screams in one voice.  General Carn Mollari paced up and down the bridge of the Valerius impatiently, angrily.  Something was happening, but not here.  Not here, where he stood immobile, watching the equally immobile Narn ships.  A balance of terror.
      Something was happening.  He knew it.
      Hence it was no surprise when he received a communication from the homeworld, from no less than his uncle, Emperor Mollari II.
      "Carn," his uncle said.  "We don't have much time.  Get every ship you can find.  Bring them all here, to the homeworld.  The.... the Shadows are attacking."
      "What?  But why?  What can we do against the likes of them?"
      "Whatever must be done.  They want Centauri Prime.  They want it for their own, a place of refuge.  We must deny them that."
      "And the Narns?  Can we dare leave this frontier unguarded?"
      "We have no choice, Carn.  None at all.  Come here.  We must save the homeworld, that above all else.  And.... Carn.... I am proud of you.  Your father is proud of you."  Then the communication ended.
      Carn sat back, his mind racing, but above all he remembered one of the earliest lessons Lord-General Marrago had taught him.  A great leader can always take time to think.  Rushing headlong forward will only bring disaster.  Time for thought, even only a moment, will bring victory.
      He sat forward.  "Send a hail to the leader of the Narn fleet."  The order was questioned, but ultimately obeyed.  Soon enough the face of Warleader Na'Tok appeared on the holoscreen.  A much younger man than the recently retired Warleader G'Sten, Na'Tok was nonetheless tough in appearance, a hardened soldier and veteran.
      "I have no time for threats, General," he said, slowly and purposefully, "if that is what this is about."  He smiled.  "Or have you decided to surrender?"
      "Neither," Carn replied.  "What I am about to say may well have me tried for treason, but I don't care.  Centauri Prime is under attack by the Shadows.  I am going back to defend it.  The whole fleet is coming with me.  Maybe we can win, maybe we can't, but we at least have to try.
      "You can come with us if you like."
      There was a pause, and Na'Tok laughed.  "You expect me to believe that?"
      "Why not?  It was our two races who first joined forces against the Shadows.  My uncle and your prophet G'Kar.  I fought alongside Narn ships at the Battle of Proxima.  They gave their lives that we might all triumph.  I am tired of fighting this war, Na'Tok.  If you choose to take advantage of our departure then the Republic is dead and gone anyway.  So I give you this offer.  Help us.  Help us against the greater Enemy."
      "Everyone knows you are allied with the Shadows.  This is a deception."
      "Then don't believe me.  Do as you wish.  Obey your Kha'Ri.  Disobey them.  Whatever you wish.  But I am going home.  General Mollari out."
      He sat back and sighed.  Technically that was treason, but he had to try.  What use victory against the Narns if you lost to the Shadows?  Who was truly the greater enemy?
      He began to take the Centauri fleet home.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

She was perfect.  She was everything he could have imagined his Empress would be.  Her eyes were filled with flame, the warrior nature of her bearing contrasting with the fragile beauty of her features.  She would bear him strong sons and beautiful daughters and the line of House Kiro would sit on the Purple Throne in service to the Dark Masters for a thousand years to come.
      Yes, thought Lord Kiro, Lyndisty Marrago would be a fine Empress indeed.
      "Where is my father?" she demanded.  Even her voice was that of an Empress.  He had believed she was appropriate when she had brought him the seeds of his victory all these months ago, but now he was sure, convinced beyond all doubt.  "Where is Emperor Mollari?  It is treason for you to sit on the throne."
      "A treason according to the laws of mortals," Kiro said, admiring her spirit and fire.  "I sit here by the laws of Gods.  They have made me Emperor of this Republic, just as they will make you my Empress."
      She snorted, and turned away.  "I came to find our Emperor," she said calmly.  "Not a madman sitting in his place.  I will visit your grave."
      Kiro smiled wryly.  "Mariel," he said, and she looked up.  She would never be his Empress.  She never could be, and she had accepted that now.  She was his in every way that counted.  She had seen the glory of the Dark Masters, and of his son rising from the crimson womb.  She would help him mould Lyndisty into what was necessary.  After all, why else had he kept her around all this time?
      "Mariel.  Fetch her back.  My Empress will need to be taught so many things."
      Dutifully, Mariel moved to catch the departing Lyndisty.  As she placed a hand on Lyndisty's shoulder, the future Empress turned and delivered a powerful punch to Mariel's face, sending her sprawling.  Kiro smiled, feeling the power of the Dark Masters flow into Mariel as she rose to her feet.
      Slowly a red mist issued from Mariel's mouth, from her eyes and fingers.  Lyndisty's eyes widened, but only for an instant, as she moved forward and threw another punch into Mariel's face, and then another and another.  Finally Mariel slumped and fell.  She did not rise, and only her racking sobs testified that she was even alive.
      "Magnificent," Kiro said.  "Truly magnificent.  You are more than worthy to be my Empress."  He rose from the throne and began to walk towards her.  She took a step back and a knife was suddenly in her hand, twirling competently.  There was a glint of poison on its blade.
      "I am Lyndisty Marrago," she hissed.  "For generations my family has protected and guarded that throne.  If you believe I will be your puppet, then you are mistaken.  My father is the Lord-General, and he has trained me in every form of combat there is.  Take another step forward, and I will erase your treason myself."
      Kiro smiled, and his eyes flashed.  The power of the Dark Masters shone in his mind, and he could hear the byakheeshaggai scream its worship.  Lightning crackled all over his body, a crimson haze fell across his vision.  He looked at her and saw her soul, a melange of conflicting colours, of split personalities, of fiery red and tranquil white.  She was his, his to comprehend, to command, to serve.
      Trembling, she was actually resisting the song of the Dark Masters funnelled through his son.  He stepped forward and touched her face gently.  The knife fell from her fingers.  He bent forward and kissed her, powerfully but tenderly.  The first kiss of Emperor Kiro to his Empress.
      He stepped back.  "There," he said.  "Now do you doubt that you are mine, my one and true Empress?"
      She reached out to touch him, placing her hand on his shoulder.  She then pushed her fingertips down and paralysed his nerve clusters.  He screamed and fell back, sensation ebbing from his arm.  Her eyes flashed and she moved forward, another knife appearing from nowhere in her hand.
      "I am Lyndisty, daughter of House Marrago," she said again, power and contempt in every word.  Contempt.  For him!  "And I will never be yours."  The knife sliced through the sleeve of his tunic, and then through a button.  He stumbled back.  What was happening?  She would be his!  The Dark Masters promised it!  She would be his.
      "No," he whispered.  "No, this is...."
      There was a flash of light and Lyndisty fell twitching to the floor.  The guard lowered his weapon.  A swift glance told Kiro that the wound was not fatal, but he no longer cared.  The Dark Masters had promised him victory here.  She would be his.
      "They are here," he said, desperately seeking some understanding.  "They are here, so we must go to them.  We must reaffirm my loyalty.  Come, guards.  Come, Mariel."
      "No," Mariel said softly.
      He turned to her, doubting for one second that he had heard that word.  She was kneeling, blood splattering her face, new wounds over many, many old ones.  Cradled in her arms was Lyndisty's discarded dagger.
      "No," she said again.  "I am not yours any more."  The words came out in a choke.  She held up the blade.  "Poisoned," she whispered.  "I know all about poison.  This will not hurt, not at all.  I have had enough of being hurt."
      She drew the blade across her bare arm.
      Kiro screamed.  "Why?  Why have you abandoned me?  Masters, what have I done?"
      "Ah," said an unusual voice.  "I believe I can answer that."
      He turned to see someone standing in the doorway.  A human, dressed smartly.  He was smiling.
      Behind him, there hovered a ghost.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

In a pocket of hyperspace, the Vorlon ships waited.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Londo watched his world burn in silence.  He received reports in equal silence.  Totals of the dead, the dying, the cities in flames.  Sphodria was lost entirely, the victim of a repeat of the violence that had all but destroyed it last year.
      Even the palace was lost.  The throne room had been taken and there was bloody fighting in the gardens.  Some of the prisoners had either escaped or been released.  And here he was, guarded and secure.  He was safe, but no one else was.
      No, Timov was safe.  That was something at least.  However much she disliked being guarded, that was a necessity.  He could not abandon her as he had everyone else.
      He turned just in time to see Marrago enter.  There was a single moment when their eyes met, then Londo turned back to the sight of his burning city.
      "We've lost Selini," Marrago said simply.  "The Parliament building there has been burned down.  I don't think there were any survivors."
      Selini.  A place he had made his home for months, the place where he had plotted his counterattack.  The first place to recognise him on his road to the throne.
      "Leave," he said simply.  "Secure the palace.  Serve your Emperor."
      "Majesty, I.... I did what I thought was...."
      "Leave," he repeated.  "Secure the palace.  Serve your Emperor."
      "As your Majesty commands," Marrago said again, his voice trembling.
      Londo waited until he was sure his friend was gone and then pulled himself away from the window.  Looking into the shadows he sought Lennier, and was unpleasantly surprised to find he wasn't there.  He had become so used to the silent Minbari always being around, always being here.  Had he been driven insane, too?  Was he to be alone forever, until he died?
      He sighed, then called for a guard.  There was one last option, one last path for him to take.  It would take him years to put right what he would now do, maybe generations, but he would never stop working to rectify it.  But for now.... he had no choice.
      "Find Ambassador Morden," he said simply.  "Bring him alive and well to my side.  Let nothing stop you from this mission.  Nothing."
      "As you command, Majesty."
      And that was that.  All he had to do now.... was wait.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The pain had not stopped, but it had lessened.  Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo could move, albeit awkwardly, and he could ignore the blandishments of the creature that spoke to him.  For almost three years it had been speaking to him, and he had spent all that time trying to ignore it.  The technomages had taught him meditative techniques, rituals, a stabilising of mind and body and soul that went far beyond anything he had learned in the temples of his people.
      Up until now, it had helped.
      But now the voice in his mind was not just one, but many.  The Keeper spoke of the glory of the Dark Masters, and through its voice came that of the byakheeshaggai, last of its race, last of a once proud and ancient people of philosophers and theologians and artists.  The last of these once gentle people, which was tearing Centauri Prime apart.
      Lennier was not sure where he was going, only that he had to go somewhere, anywhere that was away from here.  He had to get away from Londo, for fear of losing control of himself, of becoming a threat to the only person he had been able to call a friend.
      His eyes opened, and he looked once more at the room in which he found himself.  He saw with a clarity greater than ever before, and for the first time in three years his Keeper fell silent.
      Ambassador Morden and Lord Kiro were staring at each other, unmoving.  The bodies of two women lay on the floor.  Behind Lord Kiro was the crackling madness that funnelled from the byakheeshaggai, and behind Ambassador Morden....
      .... was the spirit of a Vorlon.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"There was something I said when I began my crusade against the Enemy.  Something I said to the first person to ally himself to my cause.
      "'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'
      "I have said that over and over again, to everyone who will listen.  I have spoken it in the mountains and in the temples and in the Parliaments and in the town squares.  I have said that in this very building, and I will keep saying it until everyone in this galaxy has listened to me and has understood my words.
      "You all.... every one of you has heard those words, and you have all forgotten.  So I will say them again.
      "'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'
      "This war with the Centauri furthers nothing.  It spreads chaos and anarchy and death.  We should be fighting together, Narn and Centauri, against a common enemy, as we did once, in the beginning.  Instead we wage war against each other.  Instead we cause parents to grieve and children to be made orphans.  For long years of occupation we watched as that was done to us, and we swore 'never again'.  But now it is happening again, and this time it is not the Centauri who are to blame.  We are.
      "How often must I speak to you?  How many times must I say the words before you listen?
      "'If we cannot live together we shall surely die apart.'"
      G'Kar stopped and looked around the room, looked at the circles extending upwards in which sat the Narn Government, the people in whom the Narn people placed their trust and their hopes for the future.
      One of them rose and looked directly at G'Kar himself.  He did not shy away from the prophet's furious gaze.  "Your words are welcome here, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, as always, but they are ill-advised.  The Centauri are allied with the Enemy.  This we all know."
      "Then you know nothing, H'Klo.  Whatever alliance there is, exists not between the Centauri government and the Enemy.  Maybe there is such an alliance, but the Emperor is not involved.  The Shadows spread chaos.  They set allies to fight one another.  That is what they do, and that is what they are doing now!  We should be helping the Centauri fight the agents on their worlds, not wage war on all the innocent because of a few who are guilty."
      "They are Centauri," barked one voice, high in the circles.  "There are no innocents there."
      "And that is what they said to us!" G'Kar roared.  "Do none of you see?  We can wage a war against them from now until the time our grandchildren are mouldering bones in long-forgotten graves, and what will that have won us?  In a hundred years, a Centauri government will sit as we do now, and argue that there are no Narn innocents.  I suffered during the occupation, as did we all....
      "But the occupation is over!  And so will this war be over!
      "I was told once there are three ways to deal with an enemy.  Kill him, hate him, or make him your friend.  We cannot kill the Centauri, and an enemy you hate can never become your friend."
      "Your words are.... powerful, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar," H'Klo said again.  "But need we remind you that you have no official standing here?  You resigned your position in the Kha'Ri and turned down numerous offers to lead us.  You have an official position within the United Alliance, yes.... but not here.  Therefore your words are persuasive only, and you cannot set policy for the Kha'Ri."
      "I have no intention of setting policy," G'Kar snapped.  "You are right.  My words to you here cannot do that.
      "But my words to the Narn people can, and they will.  I will return to the temples, to the cities, to the streets, and I will speak until I am listened to, or until I collapse dead.  Once I was afraid of the power my words could have, the power to topple governments and change peoples.  I am still afraid, but I will not stop until we are turned from this path we are on.
      "Councillors, this war will end now, today.  If not at my urging, then at that of the people you rule.
      "The decision is yours."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The last hope of the Centauri Republic moved nearer and nearer to the homeworld.  Heedless of the Narn fleet left unguarded at his back, General Carn Mollari brought the Valerius and the Centauri fleet to Centauri Prime.  It was not far, the front line was much too close to the homeworld for comfort, but would be it just too far?
      What choice did they have?  To save the homeworld, or to avenge it?
      Jump gates opened above Centauri Prime and Carn led the fleet into the heavens above his homeworld.  A fleet of Shadow warships was there, waiting for him.
      Unhesitating, Carn gave the order to attack.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Ah, Lords of Light, what fools these mortals were.
      Morden took a step forward, and behind him the spirit of his Master flowed.  The power it radiated was enough to blind these insects, these beings who believed they understood the cosmos when they knew only a tiny corner of it.  Even after all he had seen and done, Morden knew he understood little.
      "They are here," Kiro whispered.  The would-be Emperor looked weak.  His clothes were in rags, his hair limp.  There were scratches and weeping wounds on his face and hands, some new, some old.  The only thing about him that marked him out was the fervour in his eyes, the crimson mist that seeped from his soul.  Beyond that, he might have been nothing more than a beggar or a vagabond.
      "They are here," he said over and over again, repeating it like a mantra.
      "Yes," Morden said softly, in flawless and unaccented High Tongue.  "Your Masters are here.  Go out and herald their coming.  Be witness to their return."
      Kiro's eyes flashed.  "You mock me.  You dare to mock me!  The Dark Masters will...."
      "They will do nothing," Morden said.  He could feel his Light Master observing him, shielding him from the power of the byakheeshaggai.  That was a taxing task, a draining one, but the Vorlons were more than powerful enough for what was necessary.  It was just a shame there was no node of the network on Centauri Prime.  Oh well, that would soon change.
      "You live on delusions," Morden said, his voice firm.  "You huddle to the Shadow believing it will soothe and succour when it drains the life from you.  It is not too late for you to seek forgiveness, but I am not the right person for that.  When an Inquisitor arrives, maybe, but for now...."  Morden smiled.  "For now, you will have to be content with seeing the truth."
      Kiro looked directly at him, and for just an instant Morden saw himself reflected in the madman's eyes.  Then the mirrors there became filled with light, a light so old and so powerful and so bright that all reflections, all insanity, all that was there.... was erased.
      Kiro fell back, resting against the throne.  He remained there for a few minutes and then looked around the room, his eyes those of a child who is seeing the world for the first time.  He looked at Mariel's dead body, at the woman he had thought would have been his Empress, at the shadows in an empty corner, at the throne he had recently sat on, and then at Morden and the angel behind him.
      Then, saying nothing, Kiro turned and limped away from the throne room.
      Morden turned to look at the two guards who had succumbed to Kiro's will, but they were motionless, drooling on the floor, their minds utterly broken at last by the same thing that had broken Kiro's - the sight of a Vorlon.
      A sound suddenly reached him, as if coming from a long way away.  He blinked, feeling the banalities of the real world returning to him, and looked down.  The woman there, Lyndisty Marrago, was moving, stirring slowly.
      Morden pursed his lips, knowing what must be done.  He had thought her taken by Kiro's power, but evidently that was not so.  It would have been easier for all had she not been able to resist.  Morden never liked getting blood on his suit.
      He knelt down at her side and picked up a knife.  It was sharp, clearly well-made, with a smear of poison on the blade.  Lyndisty coughed and looked up at him.  As he looked into her eyes he saw a resemblance to her father.  Oh, Morden knew that the Lord-General was not her biological father, but there was a resemblance there nonetheless, regardless of genetics.
      "I know you," she whispered.  "I am Lyndisty, of House Marrago.  My father once had you arrested for crimes against the Emperor."
      "Yes," Morden said.  "He did."  He waited until Lyndisty pulled herself up to a kneeling position, admiring her strength as she did so.  Then he plunged the knife into her chest.  He was fairly sure the blow was a killing one, but there was no room for mistakes.  So he stabbed her again, and again.  With the third blow he was sure it was enough and he stepped back, dropping the dagger.
      He smiled.  There was very little blood on his suit, and what there was could easily be explained away.
      He looked down at Lyndisty's body.  To think, if only her true father hadn't died as he had, she would probably still be alive.  It was as the Lords of Light said, as the Inquisitors taught.  The sins of the father are carried down to the child.
      Morden stepped back and looked at his eternal companion.  The Vorlon was pleased.  It also had to leave.
      "I know what to do," Morden whispered.  "I will not fail."
      There was no obvious reply to that, but he knew the Vorlon was satisfied.  He watched in near-ecstasy as the glowing angel of light rose up through the ceiling.  He had seen that sight countless times, and yet it always left him filled with awe.  What would the sight do to the Centauri, he wondered?
      But there was too much for him to do now to worry about his Light Master.  He made to leave the room and seek out the Emperor, only to stop and look back.  Something.... something seemed wrong, as if there was something hidden in the room.  He scanned everything he could see, and there was nothing untoward, but there was that nagging feeling....
      No.  If there was anything there his Light Master would have found it.  He was just paranoid.  Besides, he had a lot of work to do.
      Morden left, and did not see Lennier slide out of the shadows.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Why did he not see me?  I could feel it.
      Easy.  A little trick we taught you.  You just do not remember us teaching it to you.
      I'm not listening to you.  I can shut you out.  I can....
      No you can't, and this isn't your Keeper.  I'm someone else.  A friend.  I've been watching you very closely.  I didn't really want to have to act yet, but I couldn't risk the Vorlon finding you.  The Shadow Criers either.
      Who are you?
      I told you.  A friend.  I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember me, and it's doubtful we'll be meeting in the flesh any time soon.  I just thought you should know that I'm here.
      Who are you?
      A friend, as I said.  I already know your name, so it's only polite to provide you with mine.  I am called Galen.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Warleader Na'Tok had always believed he should make a decision and stick with it.  G'Sten had once told him that any leader who is talked out of a decision by his soldiers is not fit to lead.
      Still, he felt they at least deserved some explanation.
      "I will take full responsibility," he said.  "I will go before the Kha'Ri and admit what I do here.  None of you will be blamed, but I am the Warleader of this fleet, and until that position is taken from me, you will all obey my orders.
      "Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar said something once.  Something I did not understand at the time.  I am not sure I understand it now.
      "'There will come one moment in all our lives when all that is hangs in the balance, where one decision will shape not just our destiny, but the destinies of all those around us.  Be sure, when that times comes, the decision you make is for the right reasons.'
      "I am sure, and as I am Warleader, that means you are all sure also."
      And with that, there was no argument.  The Narn fleet set course for Centauri Prime.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"He is my friend, my oldest friend now.  So few of us left alive.  Urza, gone.  Malachi, gone.  And now.... Marrago.  Oh, what dreams we all had as young men.  We would topple the pillars of creation, walk like giants through the galaxy and leave nothing but wit and smiles and a reputation all men would envy.
      "And we were almost there.  Urza, Refa, Marrago and I.  Serving the Emperor, creating a better world, fighting for a noble aim.  Great Maker, how did we all fall so far and so fast?
      "I am the last.  A million failed promises litter my footsteps, and in my future there is nothing but sorrow.  What I am about to do now.... it will take generations to put right.
      "But what choice is there?"
      "There is always a choice, Londo."  The Emperor of the great and glorious Centauri Republic turned to see Morden standing at the door.  The guard he had sent to find him was nearby.  Morden looked very serious.  There were a few spots of blood on his suit.  It was remarkable the things one noticed in a crisis.  "Just be sure you make the right one."
      "From what perspective, hmm?  Oh, I know what choice I make now, Mr. Morden.  I will not let either of us be deluded that I do this gladly."
      "You do not have to.  You are an intelligent man, Londo.  You can see the way things are going.  There is only one real option here - many choices yes, but only one real path.  Such is ambition's debt.  You choose a path, follow it all your life, and then find yourself where you are now."
      "We do not have time for this.  Bring your Vorlon ships here.  Save this planet, and I will accede to whatever demands you make.  An embassy on this planet, you as my 'advisor', secret police scouring through my people.  Save Centauri Prime and I will agree to it all."
      "Details can be fixed later, but yes, an embassy will be necessary, as well as some sort of official appointment for myself.  We will also need free rein to track down all those involved in this bargain with the Shadows.  Naturally, the Lord-General will be placed under arrest."
      "The details can be finalised later," Londo said quickly.  "But in the name of the Maker, save my world!"
      Morden smiled, a slender smile of triumph.  "Already taken care of.  You see, I told you we knew which path you'd take.  Have a look outside, and see."
      Londo walked to the window.  He could see the Shadow's creature, the abomination, high in the sky, tendrils of crimson mist seeping from it.
      Then he saw a flash of light, and something rose through the fog, moving towards the abomination.
      "That, my dear Londo, is what a Vorlon looks like.  It is said that those tainted by the Shadows cannot see one in its natural form.  You can see it perfectly, can't you?"
      "I can," Londo said carefully.  "But I wish to all the Gods I could not."
      From the stuff of light, the Vorlon seraph formed a sword and swept towards the last of the byakheeshaggai.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Miraculously General Carn Mollari was still alive, although neither he nor any of his crew knew just how that could be possible.  The Shadow ships moved swiftly and fired with deadly precision and power.  They screamed in the dark between the stars.
      And yet the Centauri were holding their own, even beginning to fight back.  Carn had an inexplicable feeling that the Shadows just did not care any more.
      And then jump points opened, and Narn ships came into view.  Carn's hearts stopped in his chest, until he saw the Narns fire on the Shadows.
      And then the Vorlons swept through, and the battle was over.  Not one Shadow warship escaped.
      Not one even tried.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

For what he knew would be his last battle, the Lord-General of the great and glorious Centauri Republic employed all the precision, planning and discipline at his command.  That this was on a smaller scale did not matter.  That this was land instead of the more common space battles did not matter.  That this was his last battle did not matter either.
      The madmen had taken a fair proportion of the palace, including the throne room.  The Emperor's private chambers were secured, as were some of the outlying annexes.  It was from them that Marrago recruited such of his guards he knew to have sufficient will to remain sane, and then he began taking back the palace.
      It was a long and slow process, but slowly, room by room, wing by wing, it was being won.  There had been many victories.  Minister Durano had retained his sanity, but had been injured by one of the Shadow Criers.  For an instant Marrago had contemplated letting him die, but now there was little point, as his secret was out.  Durano had been taken to a hospital wing.
      He had also come across young Vir Cotto.  Unknown to almost everyone, Marrago had been watching him in hopes of his being a worthy husband for Lyndisty.  Cotto's bravery and quick thinking were proved when he managed to rescue a group of servants and courtiers and secure them in a hastily fortified guardroom.
      There were numerous other such events in one of the messiest fights Marrago had been in since chasing down groups of Narn terrorists as a young man.  If anyone knew the art of guerrilla warfare, it was the Narns.
      And then he came to the throne room.
      He had expected stiff opposition here.  It was after all the natural centre of the palace, and an obvious rallying point.  The leader of the Shadow Criers would inevitably want the throne.
      Instead there was no one there alive, and only two bodies on the floor.  One he thought he knew, but any recognition would have been of a lady before her face had been burned and mutilated, and her clothes reduced to rags.
      And then he looked at the second body.
      "Lyndisty!"
      There was nothing to say, nothing else for him to say.  He had seen countless dead bodies, and he knew how to tell a corpse from one merely injured.  She was dead.  The stab wounds could be nothing but fatal.  That did not stop him trying to seal her wounds, to breathe life back into her lungs, to start her hearts beating again.  When he finally realised there was nothing he could do, he knelt there, holding her in his arms, crying her name over and over again.
      And in the back of his mind, the coldly rational part that continued thinking and reasoning throughout any ordeal, he realised that now there was truly nothing for him to live for, but yet nothing able to kill him.
      The rational part of his mind realised that was the greatest tragedy of all.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Lord-General Marrago did not see the God fight the demon in the skies above the capital, but many others, including the Emperor, did.
      They saw the God raise a sword crafted of pure light.  They saw the demon cry out, calling hideous spider-ships from the heavens.  These flew screaming over the city, countless monsters from myth and legend.  The sun seemed so bright, and the Emperor had to shield his eyes as they passed overhead.
      They saw the God strike down the demon with a blow that tore it apart.  With a scream, the demon died and plummeted to the earth.  They saw the God raise his sword and summon a burst of light that shattered the red mist, and as the mist fell there came other Gods.  Ships also came from the heavens.  There were Centauri and Narns and others, ships larger and more powerful, that hunted down the demons and cast them to the earth.
      And there was one name on all lips.  The name of the Gods that had saved them.
      Vorlon.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

One of those who saw was Kiro, once Lord, almost Emperor, once a Shadow Crier, almost sane.
      He fled the palace.  He fled in any direction he could, weeping tears of blood.  He could see the ships of his Dark Masters, but he could not hear them.  He saw his magnificent son fall in battle, but he could no longer hear him either.  He saw the ships of his Masters die, one by one.
      And finally he did not care.  He watched the last ship avidly, even as the last fight was fought directly above him.  And when the spine of the Shadow ship was shot away and fell to the ground, he closed his eyes as its shadow engulfed him.
      His last thought was a prayer that in death he would at last find some answers.
      He did not.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

And thus it was over.  Thence came the end, or at least its beginning.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

It was strange, but for the Emperor of the Centauri Republic, Londo did not like the throne room.  Not at all.  It seemed every time he set foot in it, something bad happened.  When he entered the room and saw the two bodies, his oldest friend holding the body of his daughter, crying her name over and over, a part of him was not surprised.
      Marrago looked up as Londo entered, and in his eyes Londo saw not only the sheer grief, but the understanding.
      You know, he thought.  Oh, my friend, I wish there were another way.
      But he said nothing.  There was nothing to say.  Londo moved to the throne and sat down on it.  It had never been a comfortable chair, and it was even less so now.  He would have given anything to be somewhere else.  Anything at all.
      There was no need for reports.  They had won.  The Shadows had been destroyed, their creature killed.  The Shadow Criers had all been killed or returned to sanity.  In any event the Vorlons and their 'Inquisitors' would find any that remained.  The only reports coming in were death counts and property damage and economic losses, and all these could wait.
      They arrived one by one, slowly.  Durano was the first, despite carrying his arm in a sling.  He walked with his usual dignified bearing, but even his fabled composure nearly broke at the sight of Lyndisty's body.  Then there was Vir, numerous scratches and bruises on his face, but looking very inch a Minister.  Virini came later, looking truly terrified.  Carn was the last.  He had to come from the Valerius of course, and he entered with a Narn wearing the formal uniform of a Warleader.  That aroused some attention.  Morden of course had been there all along, and he smiled and nodded at the Narn's arrival.
      Two did not show up.  Timov and Lennier.  Londo knew Timov was still alive, which was enough.  Better by far for her not to be here.  Better by far for her to pretend he did not exist.  As for Lennier, it was also better for him not to be here.  In his case it would be better for him to be dead.
      The bodies remained on the floor.  Londo would not let the servants move them.  Let everyone see the cost of this.  All of them.
      He looked around at those present and drew a deep breath.  He did not know what to say.  No, he did know what to say.  Morden would not like it, not any of it, but he had some time.  Their deal had not been finalised yet, so he had some time.  He was still Emperor, for now at least.  There was time to prepare, time to send people away.
      "The homeworld is secure," he said, telling those gathered what they all already knew.  "The threat was defeated with aid of the Vorlons and their liaison, Ambassador Morden here.  The Vorlons have graciously offered us assistance in rebuilding, and for protection and so forth.  To that end Ambassador Morden will receive a permanent post here, with the same status as any other Ambassador.  A formal treaty will be worked out in due course.
      "We will also recommence proceedings for joining the United Alliance.  The war between ourselves and the Narn Régime can, I hope, be brought to a peaceful and amicable end.  Ambassador Morden assures us the Alliance will be happy to work as mediators in the peace treaty.
      "Of course we will need an embassy and diplomatic staff on Kazomi Seven.  Minister Durano, you are to be our Ambassador there.  Minister Cotto will serve as your second.  I have the utmost faith in both of you to represent our interests fully."
      Durano bowed formally, smiling, although it was clearly a false smile.  He was being moved away from the homeworld, from the Court, further from the centre of power and away from his preferred occupation.  None of that mattered.  If Durano stayed the Vorlons would have him killed in no time.  He would not be able to work with them, not without compromising his principles.  Also, he must have known of Marrago's deal with the Shadows.  Morden would punish him for that.  Durano was not a friend, but he was a loyal Centauri, and he deserved to be kept safe, to be able to serve the Republic.
      Then Londo looked at Marrago.  His friend.  One of his oldest friends.  A man who had lost his daughter.
      A man who would soon lose so much more.  Londo did not want to do this, but he had no other choice.  There was nothing else.
      "Marrago."  The Lord-General straightened, as if he knew what was coming.  "You have been accused of bargaining with alien races hostile to the Republic, and in doing so jeopardising our situation with our allies, especially the Vorlon Empire and the United Alliance.  You have been found guilty of all charges by your Emperor.
      "You are stripped of all your titles, all your estates and holdings and ranks."  Londo paused.  Don't hesitate now.  Continue.  See this through to the end.  "You are also exiled from Centauri space.  One space shuttle alone will be provided for you, in memory of your years of service to the Republic.  If, when night falls over this palace tomorrow, you are found in any world, station or holding of the Centauri Republic, you are to be killed on sight.
      "You may leave."
      Marrago's bearing was ramrod-straight.  There were unshed tears in his eyes, but he said his last words with dignity, the last thing he possessed that Londo had not taken from him.
      "As my Emperor commands."
      He turned and left.  The awed crowd stood aside for him.
      Londo could not bear to look, so he shifted his gaze to Morden.  He expected the 'Ambassador' to be angry about that, but if he was Morden did not show it.  This was the only way.  If Marrago stayed he would be interrogated, tortured and murdered.  At least now he was alive.  He could find something out there, something to do, someone else to serve as loyally and as well as he had served Londo.
      At least he was alive.
      "General Carn Mollari," Londo said, turning at last to his nephew.  "You are promoted to Lord-General, in recognition of your valour in defending the homeworld.  You have command over all the armies, navies, and warships of the Centauri Republic.  Your first mission is to go to Kazomi Seven and aid the Alliance in their war with the Shadows.  You are to offer the services of our fleet to the Alliance, although you will of course retain full control in matters relating to actual military deployment."
      "Funds for rebuilding will be provided from the central treasury, and of course the Vorlon High Command has graciously offered us assistance.  Minister Virini.  You have overall responsibility for supervising the reconstruction efforts, as well as providing for displaced persons and refugees.  You will have whatever resources are necessary for those purposes.
      "That is all.  You are all dismissed."
      Then they left, one by one, just as they had come.  Carn left talking with the Narn Warleader.  The Narn was probably offended that Londo had not spoken to him, but there had been nothing to say.  A formal meeting would have to be arranged later.  Durano left with Vir, both already making plans for the provision of staff for their embassy.  Virini wandered away, muttering to himself.  The guards resumed their normal positions.  Except for the bodies on the floor, everything was normal.
      Morden was, not surprisingly, the last to leave.
      "I am surprised you did not object," Londo said, wearily.  "You did not even say anything."
      Morden shrugged.  "You're the Emperor, after all.  Everything you did was within your power.  The treaty between us will be arranged soon.  I think we should pass it as swiftly as possible, don't you?  The sooner we sort it out, the sooner we can begin providing aid.  And protection, of course.  After all, someone is going to have to guard the homeworld with your fleet away.
      "And as for Marrago, well.... it's a big galaxy, but not that big.  We'll find him.  Eventually.
      "Well, at least that's all over now.  We can begin preparing for the future."
      Londo did not have the energy to laugh.  "I do not believe we have much of a future.  Not any more."
      "Oh, you do.  It just isn't the sort of future you might have imagined you were going to have."
      With that, Morden left.  Londo was alone.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Before the End.
      Alone.... but not for ever.
      Londo looked up and smiled wryly.  "I know you're there, my friend," he whispered.  "You can't hide from me."
      The shadows parted and Lennier stepped out.  Londo looked at him, and was relieved that he appeared unharmed.  "I do not think I have been a very good bodyguard for you," he said softly.  "A bodyguard would not have left you alone."
      "You have been a fine bodyguard, Lennier.  And a finer friend.  I do not know what I would have done without you."
      Lennier looked down.  He had always seemed to have the weight of several worlds on his shoulders, but now.... the burden seemed even heavier.
      "I must go."
      "I know.  I have sent away everyone who cared for me, Lennier.  I cannot keep you behind."
      "No, it is more than that.  I am.... Shadow-tainted.  They have given me one of their Keepers.  Soon the Vorlons will find out, and if I am still here, then...."
      "I know.  I have always known.  Just as I knew you would never be a threat to me or to this throne."  Londo sighed.  "There have been few who have served this Republic half so well as you have.  I just wish there was a better gift I could give you as you leave us."
      "You have given me all that is necessary.  I was proud to be your friend."
      Londo rose from his throne and took the few short, hesitant steps towards Lennier.  He reached out his hands and Lennier took them both, grasping his wrists.  For a moment they both stood there, and then Lennier pulled back.
      "I must go."  He made to leave.
      "I will undo this," Londo called back.  "I will drive the Vorlons and 'Ambassador' Morden from this world.  When I do.... you can come back.  I will take you to the red light district and get you drunk."
      Lennier smiled sweetly and sadly.  "That would be nice, but I do not think I will live to see it."
      "No, you will, my friend."
      Lennier smiled again, and then he was gone.
      Londo sat back on the throne.  Lennier was the last of them, the last of those who knew him as a man and not an Emperor.  They were all gone now.  So who was he?
      What was he?
      Alone.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

After the End.
      "No, not alone."
      Londo looked up, unsure of how much time had passed.  Long shadows covered the throne room.  Everything was dark.  The only patch of light in the whole room was where Lyndisty lay.
      "Somehow I knew you would be here, Londo.  You always were one for melodramatic gestures."
      He groaned softly as he saw the woman enter the room.  Her clothes were scorched and burned.  There was a soot mark on her cheek and numerous scratches on her face, but still Timov looked every inch the Empress she refused to allow herself to be.
      Timov stopped and looked down at the second body, the one covered with darkness.  She sighed.  "Ah, poor Mariel.  She never did have the sense to know when to come in out of the rain."
      "Timov, you should...."
      "Oh, I'm fully aware of what you think I should do, Londo.  I heard all about your little proclamations earlier.  Sending everyone away like that....  Maybe the others will buy into the Imperial edicts rot and all that, but I know you too well.  I've never obeyed a single order you gave me in all these years of marriage, and I won't be starting now.  You can't get rid of me, Londo."
      "You don't understand.  You'll be in danger."
      "Oh?  Then I suppose today was a simple walk in the park, was it?  I have always been in danger, Londo.  I was raised knowing that would be the case, and I've never shirked from it yet.  You cannot get rid of me."
      "But Timov...."
      "Stop it.  I'm not listening.  No.... you may be our Emperor, but you're also a man, and you can't begin the fight back if you drop dead from lack of sleep.  Things may look better in the morning.  Now come to bed, Londo dear."
      In spite of himself, Londo smiled.  "Yes, darling," he said, without a hint of sarcasm.
      No, maybe he was not all alone after all.

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