"In fact," he continued after a pause. "I know he isn't. I've seen him angry before, and this isn't it. He doesn't want to rampage through every Shadow ship between here and Delenn. If he did, he'd at least give us a briefing on tactics, have some sort of strategy prepared. As it is.... I don't know what he's going to do when he gets to Z'ha'dum, other than pray for a miracle. Let me tell you, I've seen enough miracles happen around him, but spending every engagement praying for one isn't exactly my idea of a stress-free lifestyle."
Lyta raised an eyebrow. "You want a stress-free lifestyle? You, whom I happen to know hasn't spent a night off this ship ever since Epsilon?"
"I've had nowhere to go to but here."
She sighed. "I don't know Captain Sheridan as well as you do, but he has been through a great deal. He was in a coma for a long time, and paralysed for months. Things like that.... change someone. And then with Delenn...." She closed her eyes. "I wish I could sense her."
"You think something's wrong as well."
She shook her head. "Nothing, just headaches, bad dreams. Delenn and I have.... well, I don't think there is a word for it. An empathic connection of some kind. I can usually.... sense what she's feeling, maybe even where she is. She can do the same for me. It hasn't always been fun, let me tell you. For someone so strait-laced and innocent, you wouldn't believe some of the dreams she's been...." Corwin looked at her, and Lyta coughed.
"Well," she continued, somewhat embarrassed. "I haven't been able to sense anything. It's as if our link was just.... cut off. I'm worried."
And that's not all, she thought, casting her mind to suspicions carried but not shared, to words she could not voice. To a meeting with Ulkesh. He had ordered her to come here. The last time she had come on a mission with Corwin, Ulkesh had been furious on her return. This time he had not refused her request to go. He had actually ordered her to go.
But she could not tell Corwin that. She just couldn't.
"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," she said lamely.
"I wish I could believe you."
Yes. So do I.
"You've come down in the world a bit, haven't you?" Talia said, sitting down.
"Look who's talking." Smith sat down opposite her. She had obviously been here for a few days. There was a makeshift sleeping area, and a small portable comm unit.
She shrugged. The shadows cast by the dim torchlight made her seem harsher than she actually was. "I've been in worse. I've been in better, too. But.... this is the sort of place my job takes me."
"Your job. Yes.... professional saboteur?"
"You know that's not fair," she snapped. "Certain.... very powerful people wanted the war with the Minbari.... delayed, if not stopped. I was placed on the Babylon to try to accomplish that. I wasn't going to hurt anyone."
"Oh. You had a conscience?"
"Not really. It just wasn't part of my job."
"So, what job brought you here?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Don't then." He sat back, and sighed. "You know you won't get out of Sector Three-o-one without my help, don't you?"
"There are ways."
"They obviously haven't worked, or you wouldn't still be here. I managed to overhear a warning announcement that you were wanted for.... what was it? Treason against the Government, I remember, and that you were armed and dangerous." He smiled. "That last is certainly the truth."
"Thanks," she replied dryly. "So what are you here for?"
"I got a little too close to someone who really doesn't like to be crossed. One of his men attacked me in a bar, we fought.... I ended up killing him."
"Ah.... That someone.... it wouldn't be a Mr. Trace, would it?"
"Now, I know you weren't reading my mind. I'd have felt it. Lucky guess?"
"More or less. I had a run-in with him as well. He's got my partner. He's.... involved with something very serious, very high-ranking."
"He's got high-ranking friends in Main Dome, I know that."
"I'd place a bet on IPX. We were investigating them when he jumped us."
"So what are IPX up to?"
She frowned. "I don't know exactly, but our people are involved."
"Our people?"
"Telepaths. You're one, too. Don't try to deny it."
"My mother was a telepath. I'm not. I can't read minds. I just.... get certain hunches from time to time. And I can tell when someone's trying to read my mind. A bit of other stuff. I'm no telepath."
"That's enough to make you one of us. We can help you."
"Yeah?" he snapped. "I saw how you tried to help my mother. I'll pass, thanks."
She shrugged. "Time was, you wouldn't have had an option. Oh well. Why are you here?"
"It's a good place to hide and lie low, until I figure whether Security really are going to be after me."
"Not what I meant, sorry. Why are you taking on Trace? I was sent here, and he's hurting people like us. I have to protect them. But why you? For that matter, why are you even in Sector Three-o-one? Was there nowhere else you could have gone?"
"No, there were plenty of places I could have gone after I left Earthforce. Job offers left, right and centre. I couldn't take them, though. I couldn't be their fabled hero. Because it was all a lie. I saw too much, did too much. I've been a soldier almost all my life, and.... it was the wrong choice, I think. I spent all the war trying to live up to another man, and I couldn't.
"So I came back here. It was my home once.... of a sort. Not much has changed, to be honest. But Trace is abusing these people here. Most of them don't have a choice about living here. No one cares. No one looks after them. Security's corrupt, Trace owns all the local politicians and councillors.
"Someone has to do something."
"A regular philanthropist."
"Not really. I've spent over a year and a half trying to save the world and protect the galaxy. I'm not the right person to do that. Ah, but here.... small victories are every bit as important as big ones. I might not be able to save Proxima, but perhaps I can save the Pit."
She leant forward, her eyes shining. "I've been toying with a couple of ideas recently," she said. "I could use some help, though."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Trace. I find out what he's up to with IPX. You find some way to expose the corruption and help the people here."
"So, you're willing to work with me, instead of beating me up?"
She shrugged. "One of the first lessons I learned from the Corps was knowing when to ask for help."
"Fine. I'll admit I could use some. So, what did you have in mind?"
She told him.
No matter how fast she ran, they seemed to be gaining on her.
Her breath was searing her throat, her lungs were burning, her legs weakening. Only sheer terror kept her going.
"You promised me I'd be safe," she gasped, hoarse. She looked up and saw him there. He had promised her, all those years ago.
"What do you want?" he had asked her. "To be safe," she had replied.
They were just behind her now. They had a syringe. She knew what was in it. It was the sleepers. They would inject her with it, and her soul would die and she would become nothing more than a zombie. She had seen it happen to her mother.
She tripped and fell. As she tried to scramble to her feet, she saw him standing there. "You promised I'd be safe!" she cried.
"We don't need to keep our promises to such as you," replied Ambassador David Sheridan. "You failed us. They can take you now." He turned and walked away.