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it.

The station's five-mile length was shrouded in the shadow of the nearby planet. The lights lining the cylindrical structure seemed little more than pinpoints in the darkness.

He had visited Babylon 5 many times through the relay and probes the mages had left behind. Like a ghost, he had invaded the station's systems, had peered out from its security cameras. He would no longer be watching from that detached perspective.

The station's Command and Control sent him an approach vector, and with the clumsy controls he altered the ship's course, and passed down the dark cylinder to its end.

Now that he had finally reached the station, he felt hesitant to enter. He didn't belong here, at this source of light, where Sheridan and the only chance of fighting the Shadows survived. If he lost control here, he could destroy all hope.

Facing the end of the cylinder, he matched rotation with the station. Command and Control sent final clearance, and he directed his ship forward toward the Main Axis Port, the lights from within glowing like the grimacing mouth of a jack-o'-lantern.

The personnel in C&C did not know what they were admitting. He carried the contagion of chaos.

The ship passed through the Port's dark maw and into the huge lighted passage. Around him moved other ships, filled with other beings. Of all those here, he must kill only one. Whether he was successful or not, he dared stay no longer than a day. The dangers were too great.

He followed the docking procedures. The ship settled into its private bay, the doors above closing, and he shut down the engines, went to the side air lock. He had taken the identity of a self-employed trader. As he waited for the docking bay to pressurize, he straightened his jacket. He had no mirror; he dipped his finger
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