Out of the Darkness

chapter 16

“I’ll get the job done, and David home safely. You have my word.”

“I didn’t used to think that meant a lot,” Garibaldi said, and then he shook Vir’s hand firmly. “But now I believe it does.”

By the time Garibaldi returned to Minbar, Sheridan and Delenn were gone.

Durla could not recall a time that he had wanted to cry tears of pure joy the way that he did at that moment. It was just as it had been in his dream. In fact, it was all he could do to make sure that he was not asleep. There were ships everywhere. Everywhere. The skies above the spaceport were filled with them. The ground was likewise thick with ships preparing to take off. They had come from all over, a few at a time, assembling on the only planet that seemed appropriate: the world designated K0643. The site of the failed excavation program had remained for him a stain on his otherwise perfect record. Now, however, he was prepared to erase that stain by using this backwater, nothing world as the jumping—off point for the greatest campaign in the history of the Centauri Republic. The spaceport itself was nothing particularly wonderful. The buildings had been thrown together in a purely makeshift fashion. The command center, the barracks, all of them, shoddy construction. But they were serviceable, and that was the only important thing. All of the perfection of construction, all of the craft and abilities of the hundreds of workers who had brought this moment to fruition… that was what mattered. General Rhys and all of his command staff were assembled, with last-minute checks being made, final preparations being completed. “The jumpgate has been fully tested and is online, General?” Durla asked. Rhys nodded. “Absolutely, Prime Minister.”

“No chance of sabotage?” he said darkly. “It will not go well for anyone, General, if anything should go wrong while ships are going through.”

“I tell you, sir, it is impossible,” Rhys stated flatly. “It cannot, will not happen.”

“Well, then,” and Durla nodded with approval. “That’s heartening to hear.” He looked around at the others, all waiting for his words. Surprisingly, he found himself thinking of his brother, the one whose death he had arranged out of a fit of jealousy. From time to time he had found himself wondering whether he had done the right thing. Now there was absolutely no question that he had. He had achieved the pinnacle of success, and if it was over his brother’s dead body, well… so much the better.

“We all understand, then,” Durla said. They all nodded. Naturally they did. And yet he couldn’t help but outline the intent of the fleet again, simply because he loved the sound of it: the words, the plan, his own voice. All of it. “We intend to launch a multistage assault on the Homeworlds of ninety percent of the Alliance governments. The ten percent we are sparing are small and relatively helpless… and besides, we’re going to need to get our new workers from somewhere, so we’d best leave a few worlds intact, correct?” He laughed at this, and the others quickly joined in. They know what’s good for them, he thought grimly, and continued, “If we strike hard enough, fast enough, we can immobilize them and pave the way for full-scale assaults on their holdings. This plan of attack will leave them powerless against further Centauri aggression.”

“Powerless,” one of the captains echoed. “I like the sound all that.” The others nodded in approval.

“We have,” he said proudly, “over three thousand vessels at our disposal. They represent the result of almost two decades of slave labor. Oh, the Alliance has had its suspicions, the rumors have floated about. But in the endan end which is coming quite soon—they were too lazy, and we, too clever.”

“The Alliance does have more ships at its disposal,” Rhys cautioned, clearly worried that his men might become overconfident. “The White Star fleet alone is a formidable one.”

“True,” Durla admitted, but then added, “however, we certainly have the single largest armada belonging to one government. We need not worry about intergovernmental disputes, or differences of opinion on the best way to attack. We will operate with one mind and one purpose, and in doing that… we cannot lose.”

“Coordination is indeed going to be the key,” General Rhys said. “Prime Minister, if I may…” Durla gestured for him to continue. “You all have been given predetermined points in hyperspace that will provide you access to each of your respective targets. Failsafe points, if you will. You will stay on point until everyone is in place. Then we will launch full, simultaneous strikes on all the targets at once. You will attack military sites, the capitals, and communication centers, cutting off all the Alliance worlds from one another, instilling fear, and dividing them in panic. Since the Centauri fleet outnumbers any other single fleet, we will be able to hit our enemies in waves, one after the other, before the Alliance can organize its scattered members into any kind of cohesive force.” He took a deep breath, and said, “On receiving the go-codes from the prime minister, you will launch your assaults.” There was a momentary confused look shared among the captains. One of them said, “Not from you, sir?”

“Do you not trust my judgment, Captain?” Durla demanded suspiciously. “I did not say that at all, Prime Minister. It is just that, since this is a military operation…”

“And the military operation has been sabotaged repeatedly,” Durla pointed out. “With all respect to yourselves, and very much to General Rhys… the one person I know I can trust is me. It has been my vision, my drive that has brought us to this point, and my words will launch the attack. Is that understood? Do all of you understand that?” There was a chorus of “Yes, sir” from around the table. Durla nodded in approval. “Then, gentlemen… to work.” As one, they rose from the table, filing out of the room and stopping only to congratulate the prime minister on his momentous achievement. At the last, General Rhys hesitated. “Prime Minister…”

“It will be a masterpiece of coordination, General,” Durla told him. In his mind’s eye, he could already see it. “I am coordinating with Minister Vallko. He is going to be having one of his spiritual gatherings at the great temple. There, I will address the people, and speak to them of our capturing the glory that is Centauri Prime. We will stand on the brink of history… and then I will transmit the go-codes. And the rise from the great blackness will begin.”

General Rhys looked as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it. Instead he simply said, “It has been an honor to serve under you, Prime Minister.”

“Yes. It has, hasn’t it.”

He was right. It was just like in his dream, a dream made into reality.

Durla stood on a cliffside, and stretched out his arms as the ships roared to life and took off, one by one. And as each one swung by him, throbbing with power, they banked slightly in acknowledgment.

They bowed to him.

Just as everyone would. Sheridan and Delenn, who had by this point been informed of the whereabouts of their son, and were no doubt on their way to Centauri Prime. Once there, they would become public symbols of the humiliation that had been heaped upon the great Centauri Republic, and their fate would represent all the Alliance had to look forward to.

And Londo… well, Londo would probably decide that he had contributed all that he could to Centauri Prime. He would step aside willingly and name Durla as regent until such time that Londo’s passing would ensure Durla’s appointment as emperor. Then, of course, that time would come quite, quite soon.

The skies were so thick with ships that they blotted out the sun. It was as if night had fallen upon Durla. An endless night of glory, waiting to swallow him. And he fed himself to it willingly.