Then it was Lennier, underfoot as usual. The peaceful Minbari held up a wad of cash. “We came to an understanding,” he explained.
Ivanova walked somberly beside him, deep in thought. “Could you love a telepath?” she asked. “Could you really love one of them?”
“I love Psi Corps!” he replied, which seemed to be the right answer. Everybody smiled at him.
And the last being at the end of the line was Kosh, the Vorlon ambassador. The mountain of marble and fabric moved directly into his path and cut off his escape.
“Where have all the Martians gone?” asked the Vorlon in his strange combination of musical notes and synthesized voice. Kosh peered at Garibaldi with a tubelike telescope that issued from his stomach, and added, “Long time passing.”
“They are all gone!” cried Captain Sheridan, raising his glass. “Here is to Mr. Garibaldi and his remarkable solution to the problem of Psi Corps.”
Since everyone else stopped to look at him and lift their glasses, Garibaldi did likewise. Only he wasn’t holding a glass—he was holding a block of wires with globs of dirty plastique. The detonator ticked menacingly!
Garibaldi gasped and tried to throw the bomb away. As it left his hands, it turned into a seering blast of white light and a monstrous KA-BOOM!
The last thing Garibaldi saw was Bester howling with laughter—then he mercifully woke up, clutching his blanket in his sweaty hands. Garibaldi’s link was blaring, and his personal computer seemed to be shrieking at him, too.
“Okay, okay!” he growled. “I’m up.”
“Twenty-hundred hours,” said the computer.
He tapped his link, and the captain’s voice sounded, “Garibaldi, this is Sheridan. Everything is under control, but I just wanted to make sure you didn’t oversleep.”
“No danger of that,” croaked Garibaldi, smacking his lips to get the weird taste out of his mouth.
Sheridan answered, “Glad to hear it. I’m at Blue-16 now and it’s already filling up. We’ve had some would-be gatecrashers, but the only outsiders we’ve invited are the ambassadors and their aides. So access has been fairly easy to control.”
Garibaldi didn’t like hearing the captain sound so nervous, especially after the dream he had just had. “Fifteen minutes,” he promised. “Thank you for the rest, Captain, I’m a new man.”
“We could use some new men,” said Sheridan glumly. “Excuse me, Mr. Bester has arrived.”
Talia Winters took a drink of her Centauri wine and smiled at Ambassador Delenn. The Minbari female looked as small and fragile as a porcelain doll, but Talia knew there was a tough, hard-nosed politician under that demure exterior. A member of the Grey Council and an early backer of Babylon 5, Delenn understood the importance of the station as few others did.
“My aide and Mr. Barker seem to have hit it off,” remarked Delenn, looking with satisfaction at Lennier and a stout military man. They were leaning into each other, involved in an animated conversation that excluded all others.
“Well, they should,” remarked Talia, “they both hate your warrior castes.”
Delenn’s smile faded only a little as she looked up at the taller women. “You don’t seem yourself tonight, Ms. Winters. Is there something on your mind?”
Talia pushed back a strand of yellow hair, which perfectly accented her black evening dress. Her white, shoulders gleamed like a spotlight above the black dйcolletage.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m agonizing over a decision. In fact, it’s a whole bundle of decisions all wrapped up in one knot.”
Delenn cocked her head. “One should never make a decision hastily. Or alone. I am not much for mingling at parties, and I would be happy to give you my full attention.”
Talia swallowed. “All right, I’ve been offered a new assignment, probably on Earth, with a very big firm. They say they want me for my interspecies experience, but I got that experience working here. In other words, I’d like to take this opportunity, but I don’t want to leave B5. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense,” answered Delenn, taking a demure sip of her tea. “If this firm is who I think it is, there may be a solution. Why don’t you open up a branch office for them on B5? Then you can fall under their umbrella while staying with us.”
Talia chuckled, then grew somber. “I thought of that. Unfortunately, my physical presence is required for some aspects of this deal.”
Delenn smiled knowingly. “Ah, that is often the case. Although you are the one who has to make the decision, my opinion is that B5 will remain a most advantageous base for your career.”
Talia looked down at her drink. The greenish liquid seemed to mimic her murky thoughts, and she wanted to throw it out and get something clean.
But a thought touched her mind, a sweet one, and she looked up to see Arthur Malten, now dressed in a very conservative dark-blue suit. Even his eyes were smiling.
“You look lovely tonight, Talia,” he said. He turned to Delenn and bowed. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Ambassador Delenn?”
“You do,” she replied.
“Arthur Malten,” he announced. “Of the Mix. I have spoken to many of your colleagues.”
“Yes,” said Delenn, “and we must talk about the proposed branch office you wish to open on Minbar.” She smiled at Talia. “But not tonight.”
“Yes,” said Malten, grabbing Talia’s hands through her black velvet gloves. “I’m afraid I must take Ms. Winters away for a moment. Mr. Bester is here, and he’s in a very good mood, granting favors left and right.”
“Right this moment?” asked Talia hesitantly.
“No time like the present,” Malten replied. “At least that’s what I’ve always heard.”
“Haste makes waste,” countered Delenn. “Isn’t that also one of your proverbs?”
Malten glanced at the Minbari. “I’m very decisive,” he told the ambassador. “When I see what I want, I go after it. I’m patient, too, if need be.”
“An admirable trait,” said Delenn. “It is easy to be decisive, difficult to be patient.”
But Malten was already whisking Talia Winters away.
Chapter 8
Talia stiffened her back as she strolled across the Blue-16 cafe. Part of it was the touch of Arthur Malten’s bare hand on her wrist. Why wasn’t he wearing gloves? she wondered. Probably just another example of his well-known penchant for rebellious behavior.
She wanted to tell Arthur that she hadn’t made her decision yet—but then she was dazzled by the sights, sounds, and voices of a roomful of influential telepaths. Many of them turned to look at her and Malten, and the attention was alluring in its own right.
Did she really want to bury herself on a station full of alien life-forms and alien concerns? Or was this where she belonged—with her peers, in the midst of important decisions that affected the entire Earth Alliance? These were the people who made the Senate and Earthforce jump, the ones chosen by natural selection to lead.
She put on her most placid smile as Arthur steered her toward Mr. Bester. He was surrounded by his usual black-suited band of sycophants, with a handful of military and commercial telepaths in attendance as well.
When Bester saw Talia and Malten approach, he smiled expectantly, the scorpion waiting for the beetle to come closer.
“Good evening, Mr. Bester,” said Talia.
“Good evening, Ms. Winters, you look lovely.” He glanced with disinterest at her escort. “Hello, Malten.”
“Hello, Mr. Bester,” said the tall man. He gestured around at the gayly decorated cafe, jammed with people. “Don’t we owe Ms. Winters a debt of gratitude for pulling all of this together so quickly?”
“Yes, we do,” agreed Bester.
Talia shook her head politely. “Captain Sheridan, Mr. Garibaldi, and the entire staff of B5 are the ones who did it. I merely asked them.”
Bester smiled. “Don’t underestimate your powers of persuasion, Ms. Winters.” He glanced at Malten. “I’ve seen them at work.”
Malten bristled slightly but kept a polite smile on his face. “I think we all realize how valuable Ms. Winters is. Although Babylon 5 is an important post, it’s rather removed from the action. There are many of us who feel that Ms. Winters is being wasted here and could better serve Psi Corps in another capacity. Closer to Earth.”
Bester shrugged. “She would make a wonderful rogue-hunter, but with a P5 level, what can we do?” Several of the Psi Cops chuckled.