Minister Londo Mollari was not having a good day. His beloved wife Number One – Timov – was in an especially foul mood and trying her best to irritate everyone within several miles of her. Endeavouring to escape her caustic jibes and well-thrown jars, Londo had inadvertently stumbled across beloved wife Number Two – Daggair – who was clearly plotting something. He could practically see the little wheels turning in her head. Unable to cope with her obviously false smiles that still managed to hide whatever it was she was trying to hide, he had tried again to escape. He had heard that Daggair had been in meetings with that triple-damned harpy Lady Elrisia, and he shuddered to think what that was about. Great Maker, women shouldn’t get themselves involved in politics. It never did anyone any good. And beloved wife Number Three – Mariel – was in her bedchamber, thinking, which was always a cause for concern. Women weren’t put in this universe to think.

On top of that, First Minister Urza Jaddo was enclosed in private meetings with the Emperor – may the Great Maker enable everyone to remember his name. Turhan had been a great man, but his son was such a nonentity that few people even noticed him. Marrit was not actually that bad as Emperor, but when the best word you could give to the supreme ruler of the entire Centauri Republic was ‘competent’, then you were in trouble. Everyone remembered the great rulers, and everyone remembered the insane rulers, but no one ever cared about the competent ones.

Of course, with both the Prime Minister and the Emperor unavailable all day, Minister Mollari had become the subject for every groveller, parasite and hanger-on anywhere in the whole city, and that was quite a few people. After promising to speak to the Emperor on matters ranging from the taxes and import duties on spoo, to dissolving an unarranged marriage, to the Narn raiders attacking Centauri frontier worlds, to trying to force the Drazi traders who visited Centauri prime to speak in proper sentences for a change, Londo was quite ready to kill someone. Probably himself.

The day was nearly over, and his mood was growing worse. Bad as all these parasites were, they were infinitely preferable to his wives – one of whom he would have to return to that night. With a choice of getting brained by Timov, bathed by Daggair or burned by Mariel, suicide sounded a much more pleasurable option. After a while, he might even come to like it.

And then came one last visitor. He knew this one, although not in quite the same way as he knew the others. This was serious, and this was trouble.

“Mr. Cotto, is it not?” he said. “Yes, I remember you. So tell me, why did your lord and master send you all the way here from Minbar? Not just to swap the usual barrage of threats and insults, I believe?”

Vir was looking around slowly. This was a private audience chamber, and as such, empty except for the two guards standing looking bored by the door. “Uh–hum,” Vir said, making slight, almost imperceptible gestures with his fingers.

Londo noticed them and almost groaned aloud. And he had thought the day couldn’t possibly get any worse. “Get out of here!” he told the guards. “Go on! I am quite sure I can defend myself against any attacks. I was not called Paso Leati for nothing, you know. Besides, can you see this as an assassin? Pah!”

The guards looked at each other and shrugged. Then they left. Londo looked down at Vir, who still seemed preoccupied. “This room is not… um… bugged, is it? Or anything?”

“Of course not! This is an audience chamber. The only people who would bug a room like this would be the sort of people who would want to use it themselves. Besides, we check, in between each meeting. I take it that Lord Refa does not in fact know that you are here?”

“Not as such. Well, he knows I’m here of course, but not that I’m… well… here. Here as in speaking to you, of course, as opposed to here as in on Centauri Prime. If you get me.”

“I don’t,” Londo snapped. “Please get to the point. I have had a long and tiring day. What news from our dear conspirator and spider G’Kar?”

“The… um…” Vir was still looking around nervously. “You have heard of the attack on the human and Narn colony at Vega Seven?”

“Ah yes. There were quite a few members of the Centarum quite aggrieved that we did not do that ourselves. The Kha’Ri will of course not believe that we were not responsible?”

“I’m afraid not. It was the… ah… Enemy that G’Kar has been speaking about. The Minbari suspect this, but they are still a little disorganised following Branmer’s death. They haven’t got their own Rangers sorted out yet, leaving us to… ah… keep the torch burning so to speak. The Grey Council doesn’t even know about G’Kar’s little network of agents. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Vir! Of course they don’t. If they did, then so would Lord Refa, and if he knew that I was giving highly confidential Centarum information to a Narn of all people to help fight an Enemy I am not even sure I believe in, then I would be very nastily dead.”

“Ah, yes. Regarding Lord Refa. There may be some… unpleasantness on that account. As I’m sure you know, the Grey Council has been itching for another strike at the humans for quite some time now. Only political in-fighting has prevented them from doing this. The predominant religious caste Satai named Delenn has gone missing – either abducted or defected with Captain Sheridan. That gives the warrior caste dominance in the Grey Council, and likely over the Rangers, and… probably an invasion of Narn space to get at the humans.”

“Oh, Great Maker! Not another war! I am still recovering from the last one.”

“Exactly, and the… um… Kha’Ri are not going to sit idly by while the Minbari invade their space, and the Minbari would sort of… um… like our help. I was sent to discuss matters with the Emperor and the First Minister.”

“Why did Refa not come himself? No, don’t answer that. He knows that if he sets foot on Centauri Prime, he would have a life expectancy measured in minutes.”

“That would be a trifle optimistic for him, I think.”

“So, what does G’Kar want me to do about this?”

“First Minister Jaddo is not with us, I believe?”

“He rarely is. That was a joke, Vir.” Vir obediently laughed. “No, to the best of my knowledge you and I are the only Centauri in G’Kar’s little game.”

“Well, G’Kar would like you to convince the Emperor and First Minister Jaddo to ah… resist Minbari demands to go to war with the Narn. We cannot risk destabilising the whole area if the Enemy chooses to attack. There is little we can do about the Grey Council, and certainly not the humans, but if we refuse to lend our support to the Minbari, then they might reconsider.”

“Or they might attack us instead. Vir, my relationship with Lord Refa is not good, as everyone except my beloved wife Timov is aware. Not to mention that the greatest problem is that harpy Refa married! Lady Elrisia is winding her claws into our little Emperor.”

“But…”

“Vir, trust me! I will do what I can. Ah madness, why did I ever get involved with this?”

“Because you saw the big black ship just the same as G’Kar did, and he saved your life from it and…”

“Vir! It was a rhetorical question. Very well, get out of here. I will do what I can, and no more.”

“Yes, Minister.”

“Ah, Vir, wait a moment. What about this Sheridan? Is he likely to pose a problem to us at all?”

“Ah no. I think G’Kar has that matter covered.”

Like Minister Londo Mollari, Captain John Sheridan was not having a good day. Unlike Minister Mollari, he only had one wife to worry about, not three, and Anna – thank God – was not here, probably drunk in some dive on Proxima 3. He was not in the garish elegance of the Centauri Royal Court, but in the barren wilderness of the G’Khorazhar Mountains. He was not armed, and while the Narn called Ta’Lon had not specifically called him a prisoner, Sheridan was aware that any attempt to go anywhere else – say back to G’Khamazad to gut that lying bitch Na’Toth – would lead to severe pain.