was only a P5 when they modified me. Bester is a P12."
"And you think this planet is where they made the mould, so to speak? That the secret to enhancing teeps is there?"
"Someone thought so. Someone 70 years ago."
"I thought you said you were the first telepath to know the Vorlons created you."
"I thought so too. I was wrong."
The only response Garibaldi could think of was a long, low whistle.
* * *
"I know they must be out there," Garibaldi muttered. But for all of his staring, he saw nothing but a lot of little stars and one big one, the unnamed yellow-orange sphere that had greeted the Toreador and her crew when they dropped out of hyperspace. The Toreador was a refitted IPX ship, as red in tooth and claw as Garibaldi could make her. She couldn't duke it out with a White Star, or even an EA destroyer like the Agamemnon, but anything else had better watch out.
"Well, the planet's there," said Kirstin Firth, the freckled kid at navigation. "About 50 million klicks form our present position. Can't tell much about it from here."
"Shouldn't have come out so far away," Garibaldi complained.
Captain Dochale - a middle-aged man with striking Dravidian features and coloring and not a single gray hair - cleared his throat. "That was the way you wanted to do it, Mr. Garibaldi, remember?"
"I know. I didn't want to drop in to a warm reception. Now I'm worried they beat us to the punch."
"Maybe they didn't come at all," Dochale said. "After all, Psi Corps has plenty on its hands these days. Maybe too much for what could be a wild goose chase."
"No. Bester would never let this pass. They'd come as soon as they managed to get a ship fitted. The question is, given their current situation - how long did that take?" He rubbed his chin.