to come on stronger than before.
The sight took Trent's breath away as she stared at the gleaming blackness of the artifact, now fully illuminated and ready to yield its secrets. "Perfect," said Trent, and she wasn't entirely able to keep the awe out of her voice.
Awe, however, caused her attention to waver, just enough that she missed an important detail. On one section of the artifact, some of the hieroglyphs were starting to glow. Had she managed to see that from her vantage point, her scientific excitement and very Human sense of wonder might well have been replaced by a sense of worry, perhaps even gnawing doubt.
And she would have been well-advised to acknowledge those feelings. For the light, in this case, was indeed beginning to unleash the truth...
The first to fall to the truth was a merchant.
His name was Rogers, a middle-aged black man who'd had a rather slow day. This was something of a disappointment to him, for Rogers was acutely aware of the vast influx of people coming to Babylon 5, and had anticipated a significant jump in the souvenir business. Unfortunately all these IPX people were like single-minded drones. They came in, they did then-work, they slept-it was theorized; no one had actually seen it happening-they ate like locusts, and they went back to work. Not a lot for vendors like Rogers to profit from.
It was past the time when he usually closed up his stand down in the Zocalo, but the day had been so utterly uneventful that he'd started dozing at his display.
Rogers generally had no problem sleeping. Closed his eyes and he was gone, that was ol' Rogers. And once he was out, it was damned near impossible to wake him...
It is there. . . .
He moved fitfully in his sleep...
The Maelstrom is there. Roiling, blue, red, and