He made his way through the corridors and hallways of the ship, and everyone he met turned aside, shrinking away from his furious gaze. He could not explain the reason for his anger, but he did know it would have to be vented in some way. There was one thing he could use to divert it elsewhere. A symbol of his greatest triumph to date, and his greatest challenge to come.
He found himself at the door he wanted. At his orders four guards were posted there at all times, with another two at each end of the corridor. All were armed, and all were among his best warriors. Two of them were Tak'cha, and they attended to their duties with a diligence that not even the most loyal Minbari warrior could muster.
"How is he?" he asked.
"The same, lord," replied one of the guards. A Minbari warrior. Star Riders clan. A long heritage. A proud ancestry. A fine service record. A true warrior in every sense of the word.
"Open the door. I wish to see him."
"Your will, lord."
Sonovar drew in a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. The guards remained outside. They knew who was within, but not the circumstances of the prisoner's fate. They did not seek to question either. That was not their place.
He was there, seated in silent meditation. He looked up and then scowled, turning his gaze back to the floor. Sonovar was impressed. There was a one-way mirror. He could not be seen from within the room, and yet the prisoner had noticed his arrival anyway.
Yes, Sonovar thought as he looked at Kozorr. Yes. I chose right after all. He will be my greatest challenge…. and my greatest weapon.
* * *
It was a fine room. Luxurious, comfortable, warm. Tapestries from poor, dead Camulodo adorned the walls. Carpets woven on distant worlds were beneath his feet. Minbari pottery stared at him from every direction. There were the finest books ready for him to read; fiction, both romantic and epic, poetry, histories, and accounts of military campaigns. His food was prepared personally by the finest cooks remaining in the palace, and the brivare he drank was the most priceless of vintages available.
And yet, the former Lord-General Valo thought acidly, a golden cage is a cage nonetheless.
He knew what fate awaited him. He had known ever since he had been forced to surrender to that bastard Marrago. Death by execution. Execution in the manner of a commoner, as well. His head to be cut from his body and placed on a pike on Traitors' Row. The fate, not for a traitor to his Republic, but for one who had reached too far, and fallen just short.
He could, with a little more luck, have been sitting on the throne now, strengthening the Republic, beating back the Narns, claiming lost territories and pressing forward to the stars. Instead he was trapped in a gilded cell, waiting for death.
Such was the hand he had been dealt, but he had always believed that the Gods helped the strong, the brave, and the resourceful. He had tried, because it was more than anyone else would. He had shown the weaklings of the Court his strength and that…. and that was almost worth it all. Lead by example, and he would teach them by example even in his death.
The door opened, and Valo looked up from his seat. He had made an arrogant pledge to remain standing all the while he was here, but the injury in his side had plagued him too much for that, and he had been forced to sit. At least he sat on the floor, and not on the soft couch.
Two men stepped inside, both wearing the uniform of the Palace Guard. They made a formal salute and ushered in a new figure, one Valo recognised instantly. The guards left, and closed the door behind them. There was the sound of a bolt sliding shut.
"Marrago," he said. "I'm surprised. I thought you'd be wearing a new uniform, one tricked out with gold and jewels and all sorts of medals."
"I'm not a vain man, Valo," came the reply. "You know that. And I have not been promoted, merely returned to my former position. I am once again Lord-General of the Armies of the Centauri Republic. It is nice, is it not, to have an Emperor who appreciates the talents of those who serve him?"
"Mollari is a fool," Valo snapped back. "And you know it. He'll be dead before the century's out, and you'll all be dead with him."
"I doubt that very much. But in any case, Valo, you have no right to comment on the political actions of this new Government. I am here to attend to the matter of your death."
"Ah." He smiled. "I've been waiting for this. How is it to be, hmm? My head on a pike? A silken rope around my neck, perhaps? Or nothing so…. quick?"
"The manner of your death…. depends on you. Perhaps you can serve the Republic better through your death than you have done with your recent actions."
"I don't understand."
"There is a great deal of confusion about what has happened here these last few days. Very few people are able to state clearly and exactly who did what, and why. Those who could are either dead, like Prince Cartagia and First Minister Malachi, or loyal to Emperor Mollari. What happened…. is for us to decide."
"And what did happen?"
"The Court was attacked…. by the group of terrorists known as the Shadow Criers. They were funded by aliens…. possibly the Narns, or maybe not. That has not been decided yet. They managed somehow to influence certain leaders in the military, to make their attack easier. First Minister Malachi was grievously wounded in the attack, and succumbed to his injuries. Prince Cartagia bravely gave his life defending the First Minister. Emperor Mollari and myself managed to gather together the military, draw on our forces, and drive the Shadow Criers away.
"Naturally, the Emperor will want to hunt down and destroy these…. terrorists."
Valo laughed. "Have you become a courtier, Marrago? I always knew they could take dung and make it smell of perfume, but I never thought you'd sink so low."
"Oh…. most of it wasn't my idea, I'll admit. Still…. it is a sound plan. We need unity now, and revealing to the galaxy that our nobility has been busily killing one another…. would give away too much, and risk exposing our weakness."
"So…. where do I fit in?"
"As I said…. that depends on you. After this conversation is over, I will leave this room. I will return after your next meal, and when I do, I will find either…. a dead hero, who bravely and courageously fought the Shadow Criers, concealing the full extent of his wounds until it was too late, or…. a living traitor, who cowardly betrayed his Court to these evildoers and fought against his own Government.
"The choice is yours."
"And how is this…. how are you going to manage this?"
"Your next meal will be a very tasty recipe involving spoo in…. some form or another. I know next to nothing about cooking. What I do know is that the spoo will contain a considerable quantity of Paromide powder. Odourless, tasteless, colourless…."
"And one of our Republic's deadliest poisons," Valo finished. "So…. I am to be given an easy way out, am I?" He turned away, looking at the tapestry on the wall behind him. It depicted the fourth Emperor's glorious victory over the rebels at Immolan.
"If you choose to take it. You will also be given a full state funeral, your place in the Hall of Renown, and…. immunity for your commanders."
"And if I don't? What if I decide it might be more entertaining to…. shatter the scabbard on this little fiction of yours."
Marrago did not blink, did not hesitate, did not miss a beat. "Then you will die anyway. And so will your wife, and your daughter, and her son. How old is he now? No more than a year, is he? Your first grandson…. you must be very proud."
Valo spun around. "You bastard!"
Marrago did not stop. "All those men who elected to follow you will be stripped of their rank and tried as traitors to the Republic — and make no mistake, they will all be executed. Your entire House will be purged, and your name removed from history."
"You bastard!"
"We are creating a new Republic here, Valo. We are in…. dire straits. A certain harshness is necessary for the good of all, would you not say?"
Valo sank, falling back on to the couch. "I…. I want to be able to write a letter…. to my wife and my daughter."
"Of course. You have everything you need, and I will ensure it is delivered to them. I will…. have to read it first, of course."
"You will…. you will not let them know. They had nothing to do with this."
Marrago nodded. "You have my word, Valo," he said softly. "From one soldier to another."
"I…. I can believe you, Marrago. Once I have written these letters, I will take your damned poison, and if you or the Emperor break your word, then my ghost will haunt you for the rest of eternity."
"Everything I have told you today is true." Marrago bowed, and turned to the door. "Goodbye, Valo. May the Gods have mercy on you." He knocked at it, and the guards outside pushed it open.
"Marrago, wait!"
"Yes?" He did not turn around.
"Did Mollari come up with this whole little plan?"
"Yes…. yes…. he did."
Valo began to laugh. "Then the Republic might just survive after all. I underestimated him."
"We all did. Goodbye."
"Yes…." he looked at the closed door. "Goodbye."
* * *
What is he thinking? Just…. what is he thinking?
Ambassador David Sheridan could not tell, and that irritated him. He had always been able to read people as easily as a book. One of many skills acquired from long years as a diplomat. And yet here, on one of his most important tasks yet, so many of his skills were failing him.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, Ambassador," President Clark said sincerely. "I hope you'll be able to return to us soon."
"I shouldn't be gone for more than a few months at most, Mr. President," he said smoothly. "I am afraid I am needed at Z'ha'dum for consultation with our associates. I have been away from there for too long and they wish a status report and…. other matters. Important work, yes, but nothing dangerous, certainly."
Clark gave an odd little laugh. "No, of course not. We couldn't lose our Ambassador, could we?" He smiled, and chuckled to himself. "Still, I understand that you must do as your…. associates request. What if…. I need to get in touch with them urgently?"
"Oh, there is nothing to worry about there, Mr. President. Most of my aides will be remaining here, as will the Zener attached to our Sciences Divisions. They will all be able to get in touch with Z'ha'dum at a moment's notice should anything major require our attention." This was all information the President should have been given of course. Standard diplomatic protocol, but this was anything but standard, and Sheridan had begun withholding information from Clark the instant he discovered the man's Keeper was not working as it should.
"However, Mr. President, I must say that I do not expect anything major to happen soon. This will be a time for rebuilding and consolidating positions. Our agents do not expect any sort of major action by any of our main adversaries until the end of the year, at least."
"More than enough time for us to hunt down and finish off Sinoval, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh…. more than enough time, Mr. President, but I would be…. wary of antagonising him overtly. He can be a very dangerous opponent when cornered, as we have seen." And more to the point his associates wanted Primarch Sinoval very much alive. He was far more use to them alive and properly channelled than he could be dead.
