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are?"

"Is this a trick question, or one of Byron's deep philosophical ruminations on the nature of being? I got here, after all. Go to Jupiter, hang a left, first big sphere of cracked ice on the right."

"I apologized, Michael. Can't we just have a conversation?"

He bit back another sharp comment, then sighed. "We can try. Let's start again. We're in an extremely well hidden installation below the surface ice of Ganymede. Looks like there's been a fair amount of fighting going on, recently. I'm guessing this was some sort of hush-hush Psi Corps base you guys just dusted."

"Yes. This is the other ledger."

"Sorry?"

The very corners of her lips lifted up, the threat of a smile. "I thought you, of all people, would know what I was talking about. Back when people kept financial records on paper, dishonest businessmen kept two sets of books - one with the actual transactions -"

"And one prettied up to cover the dirty dealings. I get you now. So this place?"

"Among other things, it's an archive. The secret archive, the one only a few people even in Psi Corps know about."

"How did you find out about it?"

"I ran across one of those select people. I ... persuaded him to tell me."

That tickled Garibaldi's spine. He knew all too well what telepaths could do when they got inside your head. And Lyta was probably the most powerful telepath alive.

"Not to worry, Michael," Lyta said softly, understanding either his expression or registering his feelings. "After all, he was just another telepath. I suspect you wouldn't mind if we all wiped each other out."

"That's not fair. You know I don't feel what way." Garibaldi shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to have the civil conversation. You found something you think I ought to know about?"

"Yes. Through
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