Vir was unaccustomed to drinking alcohol to any great extent, preferring to keep a clear head, something of a necessity when acting as Ambassador Mollari’s assistant. But it seemed that would be changing shortly, so alcohol seemed if not a sensible choice, at least an appropriate one.

Londo would probably approve, having a very close personal relationship with all manner of alcoholic beverages himself. Somehow, that thought only served to force Vir even deeper into the pit of gloom that seemed intent on swallowing him whole. It was becoming difficult for Vir to remember why that should be a bad thing, he just vaguely understood that it was. Nevertheless, he took another sip of his drink. Drowning his sorrows, or something.

Why should he even feel sorrow? When he’d been sent to Babylon 5, the position of assistant to the Centauri Ambassador had been considered a joke! Nobody on the homeworld had wanted it. But then, nobody had much wanted Vir either, so that had made for a perfect match. And the job had hardly been glamorous even before Mister Morden had come along, and Londo had become caught up in plots to replace the Emperor with someone more easily manipulated, and wage war against the Narn Regime.

If Vir had any sense left, which was doubtful since his family never thought he had any to begin with, he’d be relieved the homeworld had decided to replace him with someone more suitable. But he wasn’t, because while he was here, aboard Babylon 5, there was still a chance he might persuade Londo to distance himself from Mister Morden. At the very least, he could perhaps…

Vir lost the thread of his thoughts somewhere in his drink, but it hardly mattered. He was being replaced, and he didn’t want to go.


The End