Londo studied the human before him carefully. Morden – if that was his real name – looked… normal. A little too normal. Londo’s experience with humans had not been extensive, but he had spent some time in the last year sparring with the Resistance Government at Proxima 3 – setting up a peace accord that his dear friend Lord Refa had just blown completely out of the sky – and he had learned to read the species. Their politics were not as subtle or as sophisticated as the Centauri’s, but they still posed their own problems to one unaware of human customs.

Morden was simply dressed, all in black. His clothes were torn – the guard had mentioned something about his being roughed up a little – and he was marked with bruises and scratches. There was fatigue in his bearing, but he bore his injuries as if they were irrelevant. Just a minor annoyance.

“I… had a meeting,” he said, smiling slightly. It was a very personal smile, one that indicated that whatever he was smiling about had nothing whatsoever to do with anyone else.

“With whom exactly?”

“Oh, no one special. You know how it is, Minister.”

“Mr. Morden, what I do know is that you are in very serious trouble. You have been accused of murdering a lady of this court – our Emperor’s mother, no less. If you cannot be considerably more straightforward with me than you are now, I fear your remaining life will be uncomfortable, unpleasant and short.”

“Did you happen to hear of any evidence against me?”

Londo was tired. He had been tired for the best part of three or four years, ever since he had met G’Kar and been inducted into the little conspiracy the Narn was forming. It had been on G’Kar’s advice that he had directed foreign policy and the attempted peace accord with the humans. He had helped G’Kar and jeopardised his future and his career in doing so. He was also embroiled in a power struggle that looked set to explode into civil war at any moment. He was married to three of the most… annoying ladies millennia of Centauri breeding had managed to produce. And on top of that, he had been called for a meeting with Lady Morella, Emperor Turhan’s third wife, and prophetess, only to find that she had been murdered.

He was not having a good life.

“Mr. Morden! You are accused of murdering a Centauri lady, a prominent member of the Royal Court. You are an alien here. Evidence has got nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“And I am sure that will make a lot of difference to your corpse, Mr. Morden. Maybe you are guilty, and maybe you are not, but the point is that I cannot find out which one is true unless you deign to provide me with some answers. Why are you on Centauri Prime?”

“I’m a trader. I had some archaeological goods to sell.”

“And where did you sell them?”

“Oh. Here and there.”

“Mr. Morden! Do you comprehend the severity of your situation here?”

“My apologies, Minister.” Morden smiled again and bowed mockingly. “It won’t happen again. To answer your question, I sold a number of ancient Centauri artefacts to a Lady Drusella, and a handful more at a select auction.”

“Lady Drusella?” Londo knew of her. She was married to Lord Marrago, a high ranking military governor during the war with the Narn. He had ruled several colonies taken in the early stages of the last war. He had a daughter, did he not? Ah, what was her name? A pretty little thing, vacant and mindless? Read too much poetry?

“Bah!” he snapped. It had escaped him. He must be getting old. He was losing his memory. Lord Marrago had never shown much of an inclination for power games on Centauri Prime. He was always far more content ruling his captured colonies. Lady Drusella was not particularly important, either, but an appearance of unimportance was the perfect disguise… Had she arranged Lady Morella’s murder?

Or was Londo just becoming very paranoid?

“And where exactly did you uncover these artefacts? I doubt they came from Proxima Three.” The humans’ last colony was quite a way from Centauri space.

“No, actually. I’ve been… out of circulation there for a while. I’ve been doing some exploration out on the Rim.”

“Oh? Did you discover anything interesting? Apart from these artefacts?”

He hesitated, as if evaluating an answer. Then he smiled. “Yes.”

Londo groaned. “And why were you here in the Royal Palace last night?”

Why was he bothering? Why couldn’t he be in bed right now? Or better yet, in a gambling hall, with a pretty lady in one arm, and a pair of charmed dice in the other?

Why? Because he had fought hard for the good of his people, because he believed in the good old days of Centauri power, and he believed that they could come about again. Because he believed that his people deserved better, and more. Because he believed, full stop.

And because he was not going to let anyone return the Centauri to what they had been before the war – decadent, pitied, insular, shallow and pathetic. Neither Narn, nor human, nor Centauri, nor Minbari, nor Vorlon. No one.

“I had a meeting. With Lady Morella. She was… interested in the artefacts I was selling and she wanted to arrange for first refusal when I returned.”

“That is a lie, Mr. Morden. That last part certainly.”

“Ah,” he said. “Yes, you’re right.” He paused, and Londo could feel the human’s eyes concentrating on him. “Were you making a point?”

“Double bah! This is pathetic. I do not care whether you are guilty or innocent, Mr. Morden. I do not care if you are executed and your head stuck on a pike. I only care that, if you are innocent, the real murderer remains at large, and threatens what I have built here. That I will not let happen, Mr. Morden. I will give you a while to… consider your situation here. I will return later. For your sake, be a little more co-operative than you are at present.”

Londo banged on the door, and stormed away. He was developing a headache, uncomfortably like a hangover, except without all the fun that would precede it. He was tired, he was irritable and he wanted a drink.

He did not want a run-in with that multi-damned harridan Lady Elrisia and that drooling imbecile Cartagia. But still, what he wanted rarely mattered in the great scheme of things.

And Morden, what did he want? Perhaps if anyone had been able to listen in to him in his cell, they would have uncovered something interesting…

“So, now that I’m in this mess, did you have any plans for getting me out of it? Oh, thank you very much, but it’s easy enough for you to say that. I’m quite attached to my head, you know. I like it on my neck, and not on a Centauri pike.

“Ah. Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. You might just have a point.”

But as no one was listening, the one-sided conversation went unheeded. A pity, really.

“My commiserations on your recent loss, Captain. I know what it is like to lose someone you love. You have my sincere sympathy.”

Sheridan looked at Bester, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t tell if the Psi Cop was being serious or not. Either way, he wondered how Bester had heard about Anna’s death – or were Delenn’s telepathic safeguards not working?

“No,” Bester provided. “They are not, but do not worry. They weren’t last time either. Against another telepath, perhaps… but not me.” Sheridan started, and shot a glare at Garibaldi, who shrugged.

“There, Captain, now that both our secrets are laid bare, perhaps we can talk business. Oh, one more truth first of all. My visit to Proxima Three was not all I might have made it out to be. I had been hearing a great deal about humanity’s new allies, and I was… intrigued. I had also been hearing a great deal about you. My main intention in visiting Proxima was to scan you, and ascertain if what I had heard was correct.”

Sheridan didn’t like being made a fool of. “Who did you hear these things from?”