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actually lying flat on his head. This was simply an unacceptable situation, for the height of one's hair indicated the rank and status of a Centauri male-which Vir had the vague feeling that he was, although the way his head was swimming, he might even have been in error about that. He muttered a low curse as he pushed at the uncooperative shafts, poking and prodding them back to their customary altitude. Then he put an unsteady hand on his forehead and leaned forward, moaning softly.

He had woken up with a remarkable headache, hungover from the previous night when he had been entertaining several newly arrived diplomats who had come to Babylon 5 expecting to be "meeted and greeted" by the formidable Londo Mol-lari. Londo, however, was on Centauri Prime, endeavoring to help sort out the disarray which had threatened to grip the Centauri home world ever since the recent death of the Emperor....

Recent death.

Vir laughed to himself in a deeply embittered manner. Even in the privacy of his quarters, even to himself, he could not deal with the truth. Could not deal with the fact that he, and he alone, had actually killed the demented Emperor Cartagia. Granted it had been as much accident as intentional act, but still, it had been Vir's hand on the syringe holding the poison injection. Vir who had personally ended Cartagia's reign of terror. And Vir who carried the guilt, despite Londo's assurances that-had Cartagia lived-every man, woman, and child on Centauri Prime would have ended up smoldering cinders, as sacrifices to Carta-gia's growing insanity.

Even so, he drew only a little comfort from that. And it did nothing to make the haunted look in his eyes go away.

With that thought, Vir pulled down the lower lid of his right eye and stared more closely. Maybe
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