if at the end of a long tunnel, saw John Sheridan coming toward him, the overhead lights shining off his sandy blond hair. John seemed to be part of some impossibly distant reality, a universe of light, while Galen lived swathed in darkness. John's head was bowed, his hand held slightly in front of him. It moved up and down, as if he was gesturing to himself. Galen studied this man on whom so much depended. As they passed, John spoke.
"Come to me." The voice was soft, a whispering exhalation, yet it echoed with strange, powerful resonances. Galen thought he recognized it.
He turned after John. "Did you say something?"
John stopped, looking surprised to find anyone else in the corridor. "What?"
"I'm sorry. I thought you said something."
John smiled. He had combed his hair and shaved since leaving the war room, yet still there was a weariness around his eyes. "Probably talking to myself. It's been known to happen. Especially these days." He extended his hand. "Captain John Sheridan, commander of Babylon 5." If he was put off at all by Galen's appearance, he didn't show it.
"Guy Phillips. I just arrived." Galen scanned John.
"Well I hope you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you." He found nothing unusual in his readings.
John nodded, continued down the hall. He was obviously preoccupied and exhausted, but he had a youthful energy and a strange, engaging quality, a mixture of confidence and compassion that Galen had not noticed through the probes. No wonder so many followed him.
But what had Galen heard? He knew the voice, from his many observations of Babylon 5. It was Kosh, the original Vorlon ambassador to the station, dead now four months. Yet how could it be?
When Kosh had been alive, he had touched John's mind at least once. Vorlons excelled at