John Sheridan? Do you know what has happened to him?"
"A good man. He is in my care. I have done what I can. He may live, or he may die. It is really up to him."
"I may be able to help," Galen said.
"You cannot help. You are near death yourself, though you do not realize it. That is why I have come. You must stop squandering your resources. This man"-he extended his hand toward Morden-"profits little from what you give him. Yet those resources could keep you alive. If you continue, you will both die."
"Can you help him?"
The alien looked reluctant. "I can assure he doesn't die. Whether he can be helped, that is his own decision."
"You will heal him?"
The alien's golden eyes gave him a long, penetrating look. "Yes. Leave him with me."
"Thank you," Galen said, but by the time he finished the words, the alien was gone, as was Morden. Galen found he was not in a tunnel at all, but in a small rock chamber, with a Shadow membrane covering an opening on one side. Through the membrane, he could see the blowing dust of the surface.
His Shadow skin would protect him from the atmosphere. He and the tech formed a platform, passed through the membrane and outside. After the confined spaces of the underground complex, the openness seemed incredibly vast. Above, the dust-filled sky was a mystery of swirling, curling currents. Ahead, through the shifting veils, a great, uneven plain spread. They had not noticed, before, how beautiful Z'ha'dum was.
From what he could see, the ground had collapsed in several craters from the destruction below. At least one of the fingers of stone had toppled. He was over a mile from where he had first entered the tunnels, at the opposite end of the landing field. A variety of ships stood near. Most were short-range shuttles.