“I’ll find out what I can, but we don’t have time. The Minbari will be at Proxima in twelve hours. How long would it take the Parmenion and the Ozymandias to get there?”

“Eight hours or so. Perhaps. They’re quite a bit faster than my Black Omega Starfuries. I take it this means we are going to get involved?”

“I doubt we could keep Captain Sheridan out of it. And Satai Delenn may be our one chance of ending this without bloodshed.”

“If you think so. You certainly know the Minbari better than I do. So, do you want to tell Sheridan the truth? Or shall I?”

“No. He must make his own choice. For too long he has been misguided, directionless, uncertain. He has set aside his past, but now he must decide his future. He must decide where he will stand on his own.”

“And if he chooses wrongly?”

“Then we will remove him. I do not like to do this either, but there is a saying I learned recently. ‘Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved.’”

“‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’,” Bester countered. “‘Practicalities are more important than principles.’ You had better watch yourself. You’re starting to think just like me.”

“What was it you once told me? ‘Desperate times breed desperate people.’”

Bester smiled. “Absolutely correct.”

Hague reeled. A price? She had never mentioned a price before. What… price?

The Minbari are coming.

Timov hated intrigue. She despised politics. She loathed social climbing. And she found assassinations very impolite and annoying. All she wanted was a quiet life, where she could live in peace, bullying the servants and making her husband’s life hell. Was that so much to ask for?

Evidently, it was. Ever since she had realised that in order to keep up with Mariel and Daggair she would actually have to involve herself in whatever game they were playing, she had not had a moment’s peace. If it wasn’t one thing it was another, and most of the problems seemed centred around Lady Elrisia, of whom Londo spoke frequently and derisorily.

“There, there, Londo,” she had said, patting his forehead in a way that she knew was bound to drive him insane. “Everything will be all right soon, just you wait and see.”

“Where is Drigo?” Londo had spat. “I am not staying here one moment longer!”

“Oh, you should not exert yourself, Londo my love. Drigo will be back before long, and he told me to keep you from getting too stressed. If you’d prefer I could always ask Mariel or Daggair to come and keep an eye on you…”

“Timov! You are a witch! A harridan! A… a… Bah! We do not have the word to describe what you are.”

Timov smiled in memory of that conversation, but her smile faded as she thought of the circumstances behind it.

Another assassination attempt, one which had come very close to succeeding. Londo’s personal carriage had exploded on his journey from the capital to his estates. Fortunately Londo had sensed something strange and had managed to escape, but the explosion had resulted in him being quite badly burned. He had contacted his primary source of information – a weaselly, worthless sort of man named Drigo – who had managed to get him to a safe house to recuperate. Drigo was however also working for Timov, whom he called and alerted to the unfortunate events. Timov had made her way there quickly and had proceeded to annoy Londo almost to death while making discreet enquiries.

Saying that this was Elrisia’s work would be stating the obvious, but the fact that she was willing to go to such lengths indicated just how far her ambition had taken her. Timov had done some thinking about this, and she had devised a plan, which she had broached to a less than receptive Londo.

“What?” he had said. “Pretend to be dead! Never!”

“It will, I admit, cause a few problems. Namely your having to muster a little bit more energy to be truly accepted in the rôle.”

“Such subterfuge is beneath my dignity!”

“Londo! Shut up and think for a moment. Sooner or later one of these attempts is going to succeed. Someone wants you dead very badly. I can sympathise with them, of course, but I think it would be better if you stopped presenting yourself as such an open target to them.”

“Be careful, Timov,” he had warned. “I might start to think you care.”

“Don’t overestimate yourself, Londo. All I’m saying is that if you went out of the picture for a while, then the people who have been behind all this may make a mistake or two, and you will still be alive to capitalise on it.”

Londo had sat back, thinking. Timov groaned melodramatically. Londo seemed to be thinking far too much these days.

“I could head out to one of our outer colonies. Gorash, perhaps. Or maybe Frallus Twelve. Elrisia has fewer supporters there, and then there is…” He suddenly stopped and looked at Timov. “Something very strange is going on, Timov. You have had a good idea. Is there something in the water?”

“Somebody in this house has to think intelligently for a while, Londo. It might as well be me.”

“How will I be able to get off Centauri Prime?”

“I am sure Drigo will be able to attend to that, won’t you, Drigo?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Drigo had said. He certainly knew where his loyalties lay.

“Good. There you see, Londo. Problem solved.”

“If only.”

And the problem was pretty much solved. Londo had needed a few more days rest, and Timov had to spend some time back at the estates so as not to cause suspicion and to put on a false display of mourning. Mariel and Daggair put on false displays of mourning as well, but theirs would have been false in any event. There was quite a bit of mourning and ceremony in the city, and considerable regret that Londo’s body could not be found.

Timov took quite a bit of pleasure in relating to Londo the exact details of his funeral, something he later said no one should ever have to hear.

There was however, one other bit of news that she brought him that he was equally unhappy to hear.

“What do you mean he is gone?”

“I mean gone. As in – vanished, or not there any more. Are you sure that explosion did not damage your hearing, Londo?”

“It is a secure cell at the bottom of the Royal Palace! How can anyone just vanish from there?”

“Never having been there, I wouldn’t know, Londo. He is gone, however, and nobody knows how. Lady Elrisia was quite… vexed.”

Timov didn’t know why Londo was so interested in the whereabouts of this strange Mr. Morden, and she doubted that he did. Mysteries were very commonplace these days, but that did not make them any easier to deal with.

And then he was gone. A private shuttle to the city and a secretive boarding on to the Valerius, whose captain owed Londo a number of favours. The Valerius was heading out to the war zone, and he hoped to be dropped off at an insignificant place called Epsilon 3. Timov pretended not to know anything about a Great Machine or a Narn inhabiting it, and so she feigned ignorance.

She did remember their final parting however. An awkward silence, an almost tender exchange of barbs and a never actually spoken thank you. It had been quite emotional.

Timov shrugged and shook herself out of her reverie. In a minute she might actually start thinking she loved her husband. Hah!

Minbari…

Ta’Lon had never been to Proxima 3 before, despite his extensive travels in G’Kar’s service. G’Kar had uncovered the Shadow influence on the planet and he had decided not to interfere there for fear of revealing his existence to the Enemy. G’Kar still kept an eye on Captain Sheridan through his Great Machine, but all his agents had been ordered to stay away from Proxima.