The chief looked meaningfully at Talia. “Does that make sense to you?”
“I think chaos can be avoided,” she replied.
“It makes sense to me,” said Malten. “I want to see more.”
Garibaldi led them into a grungy corridor and sniffed the air. “If I’m not mistaken, down this way we have people sifting through garbage. I don’t know how they reroute it down here, but they do.”
Emily crinkled her nose. “P-people steal garbage?”
“Yes,” said Garibaldi with a reassuring smile. “But they don’t keep all of it, just the good stuff.”
“I think we can pass on that,” said Mr. Malten. “What’s down this corridor?”
“A shanty camp. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes,” answered Malten forcefully.
Talia hung back, but she couldn’t hang back too far as Garibaldi led them briskly through a scene of both despair and amazement. Aliens of every description—with jutting jaws, fins, segmented limbs, hairy pelts, or compound eyes—commingled with humans. Adults, children, old people, the dying—they all had a haunted look on their faces as they stared at the visitors. The shanties had been cobbled together from old crates, stolen panels, sheet metal, shelves, and whatever else might stand up.
“We give them fresh oxygen,” said Garibaldi. “That’s about all they get from us, although the Minbari run a soup kitchen. We can go there next.”
Talia couldn’t decide which was worse, the sense of despair or the smell of the place. To her surprise, the voices she heard in her head were not demanding, begging, or insistent. Some were resigned and helpless, others were angry at their plight and their well-dressed visitors, and a few were clearly insane. It was a mixture, like any bunch of people, and she knew that some of these unfortunates would scrape their way out of here. Others would sink even deeper until there wasn’t a trace of them left.
A thuglike woman stepped in front of Mr. Malten and glared at the telepath. “Hey, buddy, got some chewing gum?”
“No,” said Malten, taken aback.
She sneered, “You want to buy some?”
“Beat it, Martha,” growled Garibaldi. “You know that chewing gum is illegal on the station.”
He hurried his party along.
“Top quality!” the woman called after them. “Real sugar!”
“I doubt that,” said Talia.
Emily Crane shuffled along beside her, holding a handkerchief over her nose. “I’d like to leave now,” she sniffed.
“So would I,” agreed Talia. “We’re not going to let the attendees run loose down here, that’s for sure.
“All the more reason to see as much as we can,” said Malten. “One or two more stops, please.”
“It’s your play,” said Garibaldi. He halted in front of a long tunnel that was rather badly lit. “This way is a shortcut to that Minbari soup kitchen.”
Talia looked doubtfully at him. “A dark, deserted tunnel?”
“It’s not deserted,” said Garibaldi. “I see someone moving around down there. And I can’t help it if people keep stealing the light fixtures.”
Talia peered into the gloom. There did seem to be vague shapes moving through the passageway. She wished she hadn’t asked Garibaldi for this VIP tour, but now she had to trust his instincts.
“Come on,” said Malten, stepping into the entrance. “There are four of us, Mr. Garibaldi is armed, and we can always protect ourselves telepathically.”
“Only against humans,” Talia added.
The foursome started moving down the tunnel, and Garibaldi and Malten had to stoop where smaller ducts crossed overhead. The ducts were seeping a foul-smelling liquid, and Talia dashed under each one. She stumbled, and her hands brushed against the sticky walls. For once she was glad to be wearing gloves for a reason other than to avoid skin contact. When Talia found herself shoving Emily Crane in the back to hurry her along, she told herself to calm down. They were still on Babylon 5, her home base, just in an unfamiliar part of it.
However, Garibaldi’s talk about chaos had made her nervous. She didn’t like the idea of chaos, and she suspected Mr. Malten wouldn’t like it either, if he were actually confronted by it. This was precisely why the control offered by Psi Corps was so important. It could make order out of chaos. She hoped.
Talia noticed that the vague figures at the other end of the tunnel were not at the other end anymore. And they weren’t vague anymore. They were three large, hooded figures, and they were rapidly walking toward the party of genteel telepaths and one security officer. There would be a confrontation, Talia could feel it. For one thing, they barely had room to squeeze past each other in the confines of the tunnel.
She didn’t want to pry into their minds, but she had to know what the three strangers were thinking as they strode briskly toward them. She could see them clearly now, even in the dim light, and she tried to hear their voices.
Talia gasped. Their minds were cold and alien! They were not human!
“I know,” said Malten, hearing the alarm that was sounding in Talia’s head.
“Just pay them no mind,” Garibaldi suggested, although he didn’t sound like his usual, cocky self. Talia noticed that his hand was resting on his PPG weapon.
The security chief quickened his step to get out in front of the others. He waved jauntily as the first hooded figure drew abreast of him. “Top of the mornin’!” he called.
The alien never stopped moving as he slammed his shoulder into Garibaldi and crushed him into the bulkhead. A huge knife flashed under the dark robes, and Emily screamed.
The other hooded thugs rushed toward the telepaths, knives gleaming in their gloved hands!
Chapter 5
“Unhand him!” cried Malten. With a grunt, a hooded alien gave the telepath a right cross to the jaw, and Malten dropped to the grimy floor of the tunnel. Emily threw her body over him, screaming.
Talia did as she had been trained in self-defense classes, which was to attack the vulnerable spots, and she lashed out with a kick to the shin of the nearest attacker. She hit hard armor and nearly broke her toe.
But Garibaldi was fighting back. At least he had grabbed the knife-hand of his attacker and was holding him at bay. “Access tube!” he yelled. “About ten meters down! It’ll take you up!”
The thug pressed his knife to Garibaldi’s throat, but the chief shoved him back with a loud groan and staggered to his feet. The two of them traded blows, and Garibaldi caught one in the stomach. She saw him drop to his knees.
The telepath was still on her feet, so she was the first one to be moving toward the hatchway ten meters away. It was right where Garibaldi said it was, near the floor, and she grabbed the wheel and twisted. Maybe it was her adrenaline, but the hatch sprang open at her touch, and the crawl space beckoned.
“Come on!” she yelled.
The attackers were menacing Malten and Emily with their knives, but the telepaths managed to scramble to their feet and stagger down the corridor. Talia shoved them into the tube, and they scurried like groundhogs into the darkness. She took one glance back at Garibaldi.
A hooded alien had him by the throat and was shaking him like a dog shakes a toy. The other two advanced on him with their knives.
“I’ll handle them!” croaked Garibaldi. He was reaching for his PPG.
Talia shook her head and fled in desperation. The hatch clanged shut behind her, and one of the aliens rushed to bolt it behind the fleeing telepaths. The alien holding Garibaldi dropped him and roared a hearty female laugh. She pushed back her hood to reveal her spotted cranium, jutting jaw, and the thick ridge of muscles around her neck.
Na’Toth laughed. “These are the ones who have all of you shaking?”
Garibaldi stood up with a groan and rubbed his jaw. “Hey, Na’Toth, that’s not the way it was supposed to work! After you scared the hell out of us, Talia was supposed to rush to my arms, trembling, and I blast my way out of here. You weren’t supposed to beat the crap out of me!”
Na’Toth couldn’t stop laughing, and her two fellow Narns joined her in the merriment. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, trying to restrain herself. “You see, I take favors such as this very seriously. Excellent sport, Garibaldi, thank you for contacting me.”
“I do owe you one,” the chief admitted. He dabbed his sleeve at his bloody lip. “Do you think that will keep those jokers out of here?”
“Yes,” answered the Narn. “They have no stomach for stronger foes. Oh, Ambassador G’Kar and I will be attending the reception. Please inform the captain.”