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But what she did indisputably remember was the job that she had to do. She remembered the danger. There was nothing else real to her, nothing else remotely relevant. The danger, her job, and that was it. The rest had fallen away into a haze of disinterest and irrelevancy.

The danger was known. The job was known. And the proper execution of the latter would dispense with the former.

Zack Allan could not remember a longer shift. It was as if the IPX people were everywhere, all of them needing a crash course in the regulations of, and safe negotiations through, the Byzantine station called Babylon 5. There'd been half a dozen incidents of petty crime, plus an assortment of accidents caused by rushing about. One fight involved a Drazi clonked in the head by a passing technician, who'd been in such a hurry that he hadn't even realized he'd struck anyone-although when the offended Drazi started trying to shove the techie's arm down his own throat, the techie had abruptly become aware of his indiscretion. Zack hoped that as the IPX people settled in, things would calm down to their normal state of insanity rather than the current accelerated lunacy.

He stepped up to the transport tube that would take him to his floor and, when the doors opened, he found Lyta Alexander standing there.

Immediately he flashed back to the old days with the Chief. He remembered that Garibaldi had spoken fondly of another telepath-Talia Winters-a woman who'd undergone a bizarre and unfortunate change in personality. Garibaldi had liked her, Zack could tell that. And Garibaldi had spoken with amusement about the fact that, whenever Talia had gotten onto a transport, it always seemed as if he, Garibaldi, was already on it, "waiting" for her. He'd allowed her to think it, even made amusing
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