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to shove him away, to encase him in scouring fire. Frantic energy welled up in him, echoing his panic, urging him toward action.

He abandoned his current exercise and began a more difficult one, calculating square roots. He'd never been able to sustain one so demanding-keeping all the numbers in his mind, figuring the solutions to five decimal places. He held desperately to it.

1. 1.41421.

Finally Alwyn released him, and Alwyn's eyes were bright with tears. "It's so good to see you."

Galen nodded. 1.73205. 2. No more of the past must leak through. He must retain control. "Good to see you. Is there somewhere we could talk?"

"We have a suite of rooms." Alwyn hesitated, as if still absorbing the fact of Galen's presence. At last he seemed to come to himself. His smile widened, and he led the way out of the customs area. "I'd like to know where you're getting your fashion advice these days."


Alwyn released a hearty laugh and laid a hand across Galen's back.


A feverish chill circulated through him. As they passed down the corridors, his old sense of claustrophobia returned. He had exchanged one set of passageways for another. These were wider and more ornamented than those he'd left behind, but still nothing had changed. He could not escape the two things that kept him prisoner: himself and the tech.

* * *

Through the currents of time and place Kosh sensed it. He sensed very little now, beyond the thoughts and actions of Sheridan. He would feel his aide, when she came close, and occasionally a faint echo of his replacement, Ulkesh, which would prompt him to become still and silent. Ulkesh could not know of his presence. The one time Sheridan had met the new Vorlon ambassador, Kosh had prepared ahead of time, burying
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