knew perfectly well that Ivanova was never going to let that one get by, and he wasn't disappointed as a stunned Ivanova said in shock, "Before they get crazy? What do you call thisT
Trent glanced around the cargo bay in a most indifferent manner. She'd seen every manner of embarkation upon the launching of a project, and this lunacy was hardly atypical. As a matter of fact, if everything had been proceeding in a perfectly organized way, she'd likely have been concerned about it.
"Science," she said offhandedly.
Before Ivanova could reply, Trent's right-hand man-a roundish, balding, Asian man named Bill Morishi-stepped over to address her. "Doctor? Can you look at this?" and he gestured off to one side.
Without further hesitation, Trent moved off after him, giving absolutely no further thought to the needs or concerns of Ivanova, Franklin, or-in all likelihood-anyone else on Babylon 5. Nor had she particularly endeared herself to Ivanova, who nodded in Trent's direction as she said to Franklin, "Maybe just killing one would do it."
It made sense, of course. Cut off the head, the body withers. Trent was the queen-if something happened to her, then with any luck the others would simply fall over and lie on the floor, their little hands and feet in the air.
Franklin said, "In that case, I think I should be elsewhere."
She nodded to him in acknowledgment, but didn't even notice which way he was going because she was distracted by another very loud crash. It pulled her attention ... but only for a moment, as she caught herself and forced herself to look in a completely opposite direction. She didn't want to know what had happened.
"That's it. I'm going to get some sleep," she said to no one in particular.
Sheila Morris Rosen Blumberg O'Sullivan had