to the door. "You seem almost afraid of this techno-mage, Mr. Morden. I wonder if he might discover your role in the murder of his people, and search you out as well. If so"-he raised his empty glass-"I wish you the best of luck in staying alive. It's a long time until morning." He pushed the glass into Morden's hand, turned, and with a nervous glance down the corridor, left.
The door closed behind him. Galen pulled the gun out of his pocket, laid it on the platform within easy reach. Fed had said it was silent and powerful. Galen would not use the spell of destruction-not here. He had barely maintained control with Londo; with Morden, with all Morden had done, all he had provoked others to do- If the gun was insufficient to his task, then it would be insufficient.
Morden turned to his associates with a smile. "Galen has finally revealed himself. We need to let them know, get them here to set up a trap."
A faint chirping seemed to respond. The sounds came in short bursts, with a strange, distorted quality. Galen realized the Shadows were talking to each other.
If they were going to contact Elizar and Razeel, they would do it now. He focused on their static-filled shapes, visualized the one-term equation.
Words boiled up through him in a furious rush, whispers upon whispers upon whispers, effervescing through his blood, through legs and arms to chest and neck and brain and out, racing onward to their destinations. He searched rapidly through the different word strings, focusing on one after another, listening for the one message he must find.
-to Babylon 5 immediately. Your old associate, Galen, is here. You must capture him or kill him. That was it. He imagined himself grabbing on to the string. And then he was racing through blood and brain and skull,