you can count on."
Garibaldi sighed. "Great. And that's all you're going to say?"
"At this time, yes."
Garibaldi smoothed his palm along his bald pate. "Fine. Here are the terms, then. My ship, my expedition. You can go, you can bring some of your people, but the muscle is mine. Whatever you think is out there, you say I can't trust Bester with it. Maybe I can't trust you with it either. True?"
She didn't answer.
"See, I know the lengths you'd go to to beat the Psi Corps. I'm with you there. But there are people in your organization who would be just as happy to stick it to the rest of us as Bester."
"That's not true. We only want to be left alone, to have our own Homeworld."
"So you say, and I honestly think you, at least, are serious about that. But I've never met a telepath who didn't harbor some resentment - "
"How can you blame us? After 200 years of being used, oppressed, controlled and murdered?"
"Thanks for making my point," Garibaldi riposted. "My way or the highway, Lyta. It has to be this way."
She didn't hesitate long. Even if she wasn't scanning him, she certainly understood him well enough to know he wasn't bluffing.
"Okay," she said. "When can we get started?"
* * *
The PPG hummed merrily as it charged. So did Garibaldi - The Yellow Rose of Texas, slightly off-key. He pressed the contact and grinned savagely as the room flickered green. Still humming, he produced another holo of Bester, pinned it next to the blackened one on the blast shield, and stepped back.
"How long are you going to keep that up?" Lyta asked from the doorway.
"Just savoring one of life's little pleasures," Garibaldi said. "The ability to not only want to kill someone, but to actually be able to do it."
"I think I've created a monster.