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control, do what needed to be done and no more. He conjured a platform beneath himself, and with an equation of motion sent his prone body gliding silently through the narrow shaft. Ahead, weak patches of light filtered in through the vents, interspersing light with the darkness.

Londo certainly deserved death. Yet that had not been Galen's purpose in leaving the hiding place. Besides, Galen told himself, Londo was Morden's puppet. Morden used Londo's desires and ambitions to manipulate him. Just as Morden had used Circe's desires and ambitions to manipulate her. To drive her to murder.

Morden was Galen's purpose.

In the shadowy light of the shaft he saw a dark obstruction ahead, near the area of Morden's room. As he scanned into the infrared band, the object took on shape and substance, glowing a dull red with warmth. The thick, gleaming membrane blocked the way, attached at multiple points around its circumference to the shaft, like a spiderweb. Over its surface, areas of warmth and coolness shifted and flowed, arranging themselves into new patterns. When he'd studied his transceiver, he'd seen its golden skin pulse lighter and darker in a strikingly similar way.

Beneath the membrane's surface, threads of brilliant red glittered, interwoven and complex, transmitting electrical activity. Galen thought of the gelatinous black matter behind the wall of the white room where Elizar had trapped him. Anna had pulled away the wall panel and reached into that living machine, and it had extruded to envelop her, a blackness shot through with veins of silver. Through it, she had connected to the systems of the underground complex.

This was a much smaller, simpler example of Shadow tech. An alarm system. And perhaps more. A trap.

Even after studying Burell's research,
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