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The Chief's Tale Part 2

"What is this awful program?!  What happened to Three?  Where is Sheridan?!" Londo was yelling at the top of his lungs.  The suits just stood by in the corner, silent, watching.

"Londo, Sheridan has nothing to do with the programming on the Bab-Com units, you know that," I told him.

"Pah!  Earthers, no sense of taste. This is your idea of entertainment . . . this Seventh Heaven?"

"Londo . . ."

"It is so . . . boring!  It is like going to the royal palace after it has been redecorated and watching the paint dry!  There are so many other, more exciting things, that you could be doing, and a Centauri would be doing them!" Londo rambled on.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a suit reach inside his pinstriped jacket.  I tensed, fearing he was reaching for a weapon.  Our eyes met, and locked, for a moment . . . then he did it.  He got a pen and started writing something down on a thick pad of paper.  I relaxed and focused my attention back on the situation at hand.  Londo was still rambling on . . .

". . . And Kelly Kelly, it is not funny!  They call it 'the new family sit-com', and I know from Mr. Garibaldi that 'sit-com' means that it is supposed to be funny, but it isn't!  And what do they mean 'new'?  If there are other family sit-coms, why do we need a 'new' one? It is just like all the others, except that it isn't funny at all!"

Suddenly Londo doubled over in pain.  I quickly called Dr. Franklin to get a med-team to the casino, not knowing it was already too late.  Long, thin, things started falling out of Londo's jacket, six of them, and they looked like . . . oh my God!

"Alright, everybody just move out of the way," a voice called out from behind me.  Recognizing it as Dr. Franklin's voice, I quickly stepped aside to let him examine his patient.  Londo was just lying there on the floor, breathing heavily, and obviously in pain.  After a rapid examination of Londo, Dr. Franklin was looking pretty worried.  Then, one of Londo's fingers fell off.

"My God Stephen, what's happening to him?"

"I'm afraid it's Centauran Falisatitus Syndrome.  It's like leprosy, but it's spread sexually.  The patient slowly loses all limbs, starting with those infected first, then spreading to the rest of the body, until he dies.  There is no known cure at present."

I couldn't help but look at the six fallen appendages as he said this.  My God, I mean, Londo wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, but Centauran Falisatitus?  This was too much, even for Londo.

"What do you mean 'no known cure', Dr. Franklin?" Londo wheezed, pathetically from the floor.

"Just that Londo.  I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

Just then, Londo's eyes closed for the very last time.  It was a touching moment, and silence reigned in the normally cacaphonous casino.  Eyes were glazed with tears at the thought of . . . wait a minute . . . this is almost starting to sound like a very special episode of Babylon 5!  I whirled to find the suit with the pen.  It shouldn't be too hard to find that disgusting paisley tie with the blue pinstripe suit . . . men, no sense of decorum.  Our eyes made contact, then he clicked the pen, placed it back inside his pocket, and started to walk away . . . pad firmly in hand.  I walked over to where he was.  I wanted to see that pad.

"Excuse me, you, in the suit with that hurt lookin' tie, I'd like to have a word with you," I said to the suit.

"I'll have you know that this tie cost me more than you'll make in a year, doll."

That did it, expensive doesn't imply that it looks good, or goes with the jacket - and just precisely who is he callin' doll?  "I want to see that pad."

"No."

"Hand over the pad . . . now!"

At this point Dr. Franklin walks over to me and says, "What's going on over here?  A man just died a horribly painful death, and you want to know what that nice man in the suit is writing about?"

"Stephen, he was writing in that pad just as Londo suddenly became ill, and he called me doll!  He's a suit. I don't trust him."  With that I turned back to the suit, who had dissappeared just as Dr. Franklin 'conveniently happened' to disturb me.  Coincidence my ass!  Something just wasn't right here.

What was the suit writing on the pad?
Why is everybody dissappearing?
Who matched pinstripes with paisley?

In the next exciting installment!