'Now,' she said, 'we find the evidence we need. I find out how he's involved with the telepaths and IPX, and you find solid evidence of criminal activities you can take to Main Dome to stop Trace oppressing the poor, innocent people of Sector Three-o-one.'
'Joke all you like,' he said bitterly, looking at the calendar, and twisting his head slightly to grasp the angle. 'These people need help just as much as anyone else. Hardly anyone lives here by choice. Do you think anyone can actually get into that position? I mean, without being a contortionist or whatever.'
'It's one of life's mysteries I'm perfectly happy to leave unanswered. Come on, we might not have much time.' She turned to the desk and began rummaging through the flimsies.
'I had a quick glance out front. There's a fair few celebrities out there. From what I know of him, Trace will be spending as much time with them as possible. Maybe getting in a picture or two thanks to the paparazzi.'
'Quite likely. Anyone from IPX out there?'
'The only person from IPX who could even remotely be called a celebrity is the CEO, Orin Zento, and I don't think this is his sort of thing. Even if it were, why advertise the relationship?'
'Good point. What about security guards? Off-duty ones, I mean.'
'Possible. I don't know too many. Just Allan, mainly. I didn't see him, which I guess is just as well.'
'I think I remember him. He might have been on the
'Hmm. I had.... some doubts about his ability to do his job.' He began flipping through the pages of the calendar. He gave a soft whistle at one picture.
'Any chance of you doing some work here?' Talia asked, acidly. He jumped away from the calendar as if electrocuted.
'Found anything?' he asked, turning.
'Possibly.' She was reading a piece of paper with a grim look on her face. 'Have a look at this.'
'It's a receipt,' he replied, taking it. 'Compass Deliveries. Never heard of them.'
'Nor me, but they've been doing a lot of work for Trace. Look where everything's been delivered to.'
'Sector one-one-one. Warehouse district.'
'The last-dated delivery is the day after Byron was taken. Here's another business document. From a cryogenics company. Mr. Trace has bought a great deal of freezer units and storage equipment. All human- sized.'
'What? You think your friend was put in cryogenic stasis?'
'Here. Before transportation.'
'Why do that? I mean, if he was only being sent to IPX Headquarters, that's.... a couple of hours at most. If the cryo was just for the journey, wouldn't it be easier just to fill him full of tranks, or those.... sleepers?'
'Maybe they're planning to send him quite a bit further than IPX Headquarters. And speaking of sleepers....' She pulled a box out of a drawer. 'This would be over two months worth of dosage for a P five rated telepath. There's another six boxes here.'
'Evidence, yes. But too many questions. What do IPX want with telepaths? I mean, they have a few medical research subsidiaries.... they took over SynTech and Edgars Industries, but....' He suddenly straightened, as did Talia. There was the sound of footsteps outside the door.
Talia ducked down behind the desk, while Smith darted to the corner. He was too slow, however. The door opened, revealing Mr. Trace and five other men behind him.
'Well,' he said, smiling. 'Gatecrashers. I'm sorry, sir, madam, but we operate under a very strict dress code here, and the management reserves the right to refuse admission to anyone at all. Especially people who come in through the back way and try to rummage through all my private documents.
'How's this meant to go again? You have the right to.... well, not a lawyer of any kind. And remaining silent's fine by me. Oh, here we are. You have the right to remain.... well, dead.'
Susan Ivanova could feel it.... the throbbing at the back of her mind. When she closed her eyes she could see again the Vorlon slowly opening his encounter suit.... and the brilliant, shining light that had burrowed deep into her soul.
Before it had died, the Vorlon had said something to her. She had not understood the significance of the message before, and she was not sure she did now. <Remember.>
She had been hearing his voice in her sleep for some months now, although she always forgot on awakening. A few days ago however that voice had faded completely, to be replaced by another one, a much older one, filled with sadness and age and a terrible, tragic wisdom.
'Come to me,' said this new voice. 'Bring them both to me.'
It was only now, with the light filling her mind again, with the whispers of Lyta and Marcus in her mind, that Susan Ivanova knew what she had to do.
'They will not find you,' said the ancient voice. 'They will be able to find the others. Be careful.'
She had known where to go. She also supposed she knew what to do. Could she do this? The last time she had seen Delenn.... well, the last time had been two and a half years in the past, but the last time Delenn had seen her.... had been just after the chrysalis. She had broken her free of it, trying to kill her.
She reached the door to Delenn's cell, and hesitated. There was someone else in there. She paused, thinking for one dreadful moment that Lyta had come here already, and was waiting to trap her. Then a moment of sanity reasserted itself. She would feel Lyta's thoughts if she were here. She was not. It was.... someone else. It was....
Of course. It was Neroon.
The door was unlocked, at least from this side. She pushed it open.
It was Neroon there. Susan had not had much to do with him recently. He had not come here until long after she had left for Proxima, and since her return.... she had been distracted. He was often away, performing similar duties to those he had for G'Kar and the Rangers. This was the longest he had been here for as long as she could remember.
Neroon was kneeling next to Delenn. They were very close, almost kissing. Delenn started as she heard Susan come in, jumping back. Neroon rose slowly to his feet, and fixed his dark gaze on her.
'We've got to get out of here,' Susan said quickly.
'Escape?' whispered Delenn. 'How?'
'There's.... someone here. A friend, I think. He can help us.'
'Who?'
Susan considered this question for a while. 'I don't know,' she admitted. 'It doesn't matter. He.... talks to me.... in my dreams. Oh, stop that! I'm not crazy. I've been crazy.... for a very, very long time. Probably ever since my mother died. But I'm not crazy now. I've never been more sane.'
Neroon slowly walked over to her and pulled the door shut. 'What are you talking about?' he said harshly. 'You swore to serve them, as I did.'
'Yeah? They promised I'd be safe, but they didn't do a very good job of it. I've lost two people who.... meant a great deal to me.... I've had my mind turned inside and out. I've been hopping back and forward through time like a.... a.... jack-in-the-box.... and they've done nothing to stop it. I think they betrayed me first.'
'I swore to follow them. I will not permit this.'
Delenn spoke his name softly, and Susan could see the spark of love in his eyes as she did so. She cursed them both. What gave them the right to be happy, when she was without Marcus, without Laurel, without.... everyone? Then she silently regretted the thought.
'Neroon....' Delenn said quietly. 'I know you are here because you believe in them, because you believe they are right. They are not. Whatever they claim, the Shadows exist only to kill, and to destroy, and to cause chaos. Maybe.... maybe the Vorlons are not the right path either, but they are better than this. Come to Kazomi Seven, let me show you what the Shadows have wrought. They do not believe in helping anyone.
'They believe only in death.'
'No! They.... they want us all to grow, to become stronger.... to evolve.'
'Neroon. You made me a promise once.... Do you remember it?'
He closed his eyes. 'Delenn.... please.... do not....'
'Do you remember it?' The words were striking at him now, for all the softness with which they were
