“I will,” muttered Garibaldi. “Well, I’d better go after them and at least describe how I blasted my way out of here.”
“She is attractive,” Na’Toth conceded, with a hint of womanly envy.
“Oh, Talia?” Garibaldi shrugged. “She’s crazy about me.
“I can see that,” the Narn answered drolly.
Garibaldi rubbed his lower back. “I think I’ll avoid that rabbit hole and go back the way I came. Maybe I can catch another fight.”
“That was a good place to pass signals,” Na’Toth remarked. “I will see you in several hours.”
Garibaldi limped down the tunnel and waved. “Thanks.”
By the time the weary security chief reached the main corridor, stooping under the slimy ducts, he didn’t feel like going anywhere but to bed.
He tapped his link. “This is Garibaldi to all on-duty personnel. If anyone reports me as being missing or in trouble, please tell them I am out of trouble. I am still Down Below, but the situation is under control. Garibaldi over.”
The security chief was strolling back toward the makeshift fight arena, still probing his swollen lips, when a furtive figure bumped into him. The bump caught him in a tender rib, and he groaned and grabbed the little man.
“Ratso, what’s the matter with you?”
The grubby derelict glanced around and winced. “Let go of me, Chief! I’m in a hurry!”
Garibaldi tightened his grip on the man’s raggedy collar. “If you’re in a hurry, then somebody’s about to be ripped off or mugged. What’s the hurry, Ratso?”
The little man sulked. “I’m not gonna tell you.”
“Listen, buddy, don’t mess with me. I’m in a real lousy mood. Who’s in trouble?”
The little man whispered, “It’s me who’s in trouble. Deuce is back on the station.”
“Deuce?” muttered Garibaldi. That was not good, and the timing was even worse, with Psi Corps squirming all over the place. “Are you sure?”
“Does a packrat have puppies? Of course, I’m sure.”
“Why now?” asked Garibaldi. “Doesn’t he know we have a warrant out for him? Why would he risk it?”
Ratso winked, or maybe he twitched, it was hard to tell. “We’ve got ‘em all here, don’t we? Like, this is the center of the universe. If you were one of those crazy Martians …”
Garibaldi nearly lifted the man off his feet. “Deuce is helping the terrorists?”
“Sshhh, sshhh!” cautioned the derelict, pressing his fingers to his lips. “I’ve told you too much already. I gotta protect myself! Deuce might be settling some old debts while he’s here.”
“How did he get in? A forged identicard, what?”
But the raggedy man slipped out of his grasp and scurried down the corridor, tossing furtive glances over his shoulder.
Garibaldi scowled. With the attendees due to start arriving in only a few hours, the bulk of his staff were getting their last chunk of sleep before the crush. He had no idea who he could order down here to look for Deuce. Garibaldi would normally do a job like that himself, but he couldn’t even assign himself to it. Martian terrorists and the crime king of Down Below—that was a bad combo.
He tried to imagine why the terrorists would need Deuce. Deuce was an expert at smuggling stuff into the station and out again, often in a different form. His loansharking had won him an army of desperate couriers who would do almost anything for a meal and a few credits off their debt. Why did the terrorists want Deuce? What could Deuce get into the station that they couldn’t?
A bomb.
But not the kind of bomb that had wiped out earlier Babylon stations, thought the chief, not the big ka-boom that Ivanova joked about so fatalistically. Deuce wouldn’t want to blow up his playground and ruin everything. The terrorists would probably settle for some kind of bombing that would be more a symbol than an absolute disaster. But with four hundred psi freaks running around, it wouldn’t take much to turn the conference into an absolute disaster.
In fact, thought Garibaldi, if the terrorists had Deuce and his underground network, they wouldn’t even need to show up! They could press the button from afar, so to speak. Security would have to look at every single person on the station, not just telepaths and new arrivals, but even the everyday scum.
The security chief looked up from his thoughts and noticed several of the denizens of Down Below watching him. They turned away quickly when he saw them, but that didn’t make their scrutiny any less troubling. They knew. Like everyone else in the Alliance, this rowdy crowd of malcontents and misfits had no love lost for Psi Corps. Hell, for all he knew, some of them could be rogue telepaths hiding out down here. His current orders were to protect Psi Corps, and that pretty much pitted him against everyone else in the Universe.
Well, so much for the idea of getting any sleep tonight. The captain had been right about one thing—this was your basic nightmare.
“Come in,” said Captain Sheridan, wiping the crumbs off his lip with his linen napkin.
The door of his quarters opened, and a crumpled Garibaldi slouched inside. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Mr. Garibaldi. Breakfast?”
“No, thank you, sir. I don’t believe in eating breakfast unless I’ve actually slept.” He looked at the captain’s sumptuous tray. “Well, maybe a piece of toast.”
Sheridan stood and buttoned his jacket. “Feel free to finish it, Mr. Garibaldi. The melon is quite good. I had an urgent message from Ms. Winters last night, and she said that you were in some terrible danger Down Below. Yet when I checked, there was no report of an incident, just a cryptic note from you. I didn’t see any report in my download this morning either.”
Garibaldi chuckled. “Well, sir, when people ask for a guided tour, you want to liven it up for them. You know, like when you go on a Wild West stagecoach ride, and a couple of bandits rob the stagecoach.”
Sheridan frowned. “I didn’t know we offered that service, Mr. Garibaldi. Nor was I aware that you were the recreation director of this station. If you would like that job, perhaps it can be arranged.”
Garibaldi stuffed a strawberry into his mouth and considered the offer for a moment. “Don’t tempt me, sir.”
The captain shook his head. “I know this conference presents many problems for you, but we have to go by the regulations whenever possible. I’m pretty sure there’s a regulation against mugging visiting dignitaries.”
Garibaldi wiped his mouth on the captain’s napkin. “Captain, did you happen to see the download of the first issue of the conference newsletter?”
Sheridan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did.”
“That Emily Crane wrote a great editorial, didn’t she? In strong language, she warned her friends against going anywhere near Down Below or the Alien Sector. Said their telepathic abilities would be useless if they got into any trouble down there. It even scared me.”
“Granted,” said Sheridan, “your little stunt worked to our advantage, but no more of that. We’ll be under close scrutiny for the way we handle this, and I want it by the book. Is that understood?”
Garibaldi stood to attention. “Yes, sir, understood. I just wanted to show Psi Corps that there are parts of this station beyond their control. The fact is, we do have a major problem Down Below.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve seen a fellow named Deuce mentioned in a number of reports.”
“Yes, of course,” said Sheridan. “I’ve read the ombud’s list of charges against him. Murder, extortion, smuggling, endangering the station—a nasty character. And a fugitive.”
“And he’s back. That’s not what I’m worried about, because Deuce was bound to come back sometime to check his enterprises. But why now? Could it be because of this conference? Believe me, Deuce wouldn’t be against taking money from terrorists.”
Sheridan asked, “You’re sure he’s back?”
“I’ve got a passenger from a tramp freighter who just sort of disappeared after he came aboard yesterday.”
“Can’t we find him?” asked the captain.
“With what resources? I’ve got everyone on my staff committed to the conference. And Deuce is The Man down there. Even if we didn’t have this conference to worry about, we might not find him.” Garibaldi sighed and rubbed his eyes. “At this point, I don’t think I could find anything but a bed.”
The captain’s link sounded, and he lifted his hand. “This is Captain Sheridan.”
“Ivanova here,” came the familiar voice. “The Glenn is docking in bay six. The manifest says they have fifty-three Psi Corps members aboard, and Mr. Bester has requested that you greet them personally. He also wants Garibaldi to be present to answer questions about security.”