"Get Delenn back," came the solemn reply.
"What? Are we just going to ask them to hand her back?"
"Something like that. Look.... David. I realise I haven't been in the driver's seat for a while, and I know you've got used to running the place while I've been.... ill. And I know that you've got too much experience to be running around as second. It doesn't matter anyway, once this is over and we get back to Kazomi Seven, you'll get your own ship to command. You've more than earned one."
"I.... thanks. Where would we get...? It doesn't matter, but...."
The Captain interrupted him. "But I need someone I can trust as my second here. This is.... important. I know it must look so selfish, threatening myself and my crew just to get my girlfriend back.... but I have to."
"I'm not criticising you. No one is. The Alliance needs Delenn. We all do."
The Captain smiled. "Yes.... we all do." He paused, then continued. "The thing is, I've got a plan. I can't explain it to anyone now. You just have to trust me. That's all I'm asking. If it goes right.... and I hope it does, we won't have to fight anyone. We'll just get Delenn back, and head to Kazomi Seven, and we'll get on with finishing the whole damned war.
"Are you with me?"
"You know I am."
The Captain visibly relaxed, nodding. "Good. Thank you, David. I'll need you.... I'll need you a great deal. Now, I'd better go off and talk to Ko'Dath. She and her Narn Bat Squad may need to be ready, just in case something does go wrong."
He left the room, and Lyta immediately followed him. Her movements were stiff and awkward, almost like a wooden puppet. Corwin looked at them both thoughtfully, then rose to his feet and followed them out.
He might not entirely know what was going on here, but he did know that the Captain was trusting him, and he was determined not to let him down.
It was dark, but then it had always been dark, and in all the many years since he had last been here, he knew that would not have changed.
Dexter Smith, former Captain of humanity's flagship and currently wanted for first degree murder (or if he wasn't yet, then he soon would be) crept into the dark tunnel, dropping down the foot or so to the floor. There had been security fencing around the building, but it had been full of holes. The authorities had obviously been relying on the 'Danger. Unstable Building. Do Not Enter.' sign to deter people coming here. Stupid, they might as well have put up a sign saying 'Fine Place For Kids to Come and Explore'.
He didn't know if the kids did come here these days. He and his brother had, frequently, and the place hadn't even been fenced off then. There had been all sorts of theories as to what this building had actually been before it had been turned into a fun place for kids to come and explore. A house that had once belonged to a serial killer. A place cursed by some alien race who had once lived here. A halfway house for the telepath underground railroad.
Smith had later found out that the building had just been a factory which had had to close down and which no one had wanted to buy. It was funny, but that had never been one of anyone's theories when they were children.
But whatever the building was now, or had been, it was also a perfect place to hide.
Here he could think, set up some plans, and find out if Trace was actually going to pressure Bo into calling this a full-fledged murder and not self-defence. He would soon find out either way.
He banged his head on the ceiling and swore to himself. Surely the place hadn't been this small last time?
He had gone straight from Bo's to his apartment, grabbing what spare clothes and loose change he could. There were still some areas of Sector 301 where it was advisable to deal with actual currency rather than a credit chip, and plenty of people only too willing to do so. He had also made sure to grab his private citizen's PPG. He had a feeling he might be needing it.
And if there was a warrant put out on him for first degree murder, what then? There were ways out of 301, he knew. Some of them might have changed now, but it was still possible he could find a way to 303, and then head up to Main Dome. He supposed he had some friends there somewhere, people from whom he could try to get help. Maybe he could even report Allan's corruption.
He chuckled dryly to himself. A wide range of airy-fairy solutions that would never get him anywhere. The powers that be in Main Dome preferred 301 this way. It was much easier to handle.
He suddenly stopped dead. Someone else was here. The basement level was dark, but there was just enough light from the cracks in the walls to make out shapes. He didn't want to waste the energy cells in his torch until he got to the sub-basement level.
He couldn't see anyone, and he couldn't hear anything, but he somehow knew that someone was here. Could it be a kid? It was possible they still came to places like this. Was it a school-day today? He then cursed that thought. As if it would matter whether it was a school-day or not. That had never stopped him.
"Who's there?" he asked softly. More than likely it was a kid, or some vagrant sleeping rough. "I'm not going to hurt you."
There was a brief surge of pain at the back of his skull, and he trembled slightly. A telepath. That ruled out most of the alternatives, and all of the nice ones.
He had a feeling he knew who this was.
Closing his eyes — more for the symbolic reassurance it gave him than anything else — he sought the void again. He had no idea what he was actually doing, it just came to him in certain situations. A residual legacy of his mother's telepathy perhaps, although she had never been very powerful.
There! He moved forward slowly. Something brushed past his arm, and he lunged out and grabbed at whoever it was. Something rolled beneath his feet and he fell, but he brought his companion down as well.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said again. "It's you, isn't it? Dammit, speak to me!"
There was a flash of light, and he looked up to see who was with him. She was holding a torch that illuminated both their faces. He looked into her eyes, and had the slight satisfaction of being right.
"So," said Talia Stoner, or Winters, or whatever name she was using. "What are you doing here?"
Emperor Londo Mollari stirred from his private vigil of contemplation only when told by one of the many people running around on this ship that they were about to come out of hyperspace. He supposed he should have gone to his personal quarters on the Barge to prepare his luggage and his aides, but he was quite happy standing here, looking at the formless, shifting nothing that was hyperspace.
So, back to Kazomi 7. He wondered just how changed the place was from the war-torn, broken ruin he had left. He wondered just how changed Delenn was.
"Almost there," he said, partly to himself, partly to Lennier. The Minbari did not reply. He had not really been expecting him to.
"Is G'Kar there already, I wonder?" The Narn had left Centauri Prime some days before Londo. He did not have the disadvantage of having to prepare all that packing and the ceremonial guard and all the other decorative bits that came with being Head of State.
On the other hand, he did have the disadvantage of having to sneak out.
"Not yet," said Lennier in his usual quiet tone. Londo had to strain to hear most of what he was saying. "He should be there by tomorrow, assuming there are no problems at Greater Krindar."
"How do you know that?" he asked, and then muttered angrily to himself. He would either not get an answer, or he would get a reply that was so vague it told him nothing. Greater Krindar.... He knew that name. Ah yes, a prominent supply station, fairly deep in non-aligned space, and on several important borders. Most of the trade to the Alliance was being filtered through there, he seemed to recall.