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yours. But I've had it with you. I agreed to finance your little revolution and you agreed to help me get Best. Now, let's see. Out of this deal you've gotten about ten million credits, three ships, and enough weapons to shoot every man, woman, and child in Calcutta with a different gun. Now let's count up the receipts on my side. You were going to remove Bester's little mindblock," he tapped his head. "Golly! It's still there! How do you like that? And Bester? He's still alive and free. To make things even happier, four days ago I get a call in the priority code we agreed on - no explanation, no note from you, just a 'come quick.' Well, lady, I came quick, way the hell out to this miserable ball of ice. My ship is put under guns, your little fashion thug stalls me, and then you show up and treat me like something you found on your shoe. Now - you tell me what's going on, or you can just screw this. All of it. Pay your own damn bills."

For an instant, Garibaldi thought he had pushed her too far, that he would see those eyes go all black and have his mind shredded like so much lettuce for a Cobb salad. But then her face softened, and a little of the old Lyta peeked through her hard mask - the quiet, compassionate, slightly naЇve woman he had first met on Babylon 5.

"I'm a little ... on edge," she said. "Psi Corps has been turning all of the screws, and Bester in particular seems to have gone completely around the bend. From what information we get, the rehabilitation camps have become killing fields. We've lost a lot of good people. My people, Michael," she closed her eyes, but when she opened them they were still Human. "You're right. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"Lyta - just tell me what this is all about. Pretty please."

She nodded. "Do you know where we
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