of time. The White Stars-which he could now see were being pursued by several of the alien vessels-were moving in an evasive pattern that precluded his having any idea whatsoever which direction they were going to go. Even if the airpack could propel him quickly enough to do any good, he had no clue which way to send himself. Every muscle in his body tensed up as he froze in place.
The two fighters swooped past him, too fast and much too involved with their own survival to take any notice of him at all. Instants later the alien vessels flew past him, as well, spi-raling down-again relative-and away. Any of the ships would have been capable of killing him without even knowing they'd done it.
And Sheridan said out loud what he'd been thinking from the moment he'd set foot out of the station-
"I have got to be out of my mind...."
Dr. Stephen Franklin thought that he was going out of his mind.
Barely twenty-four hours earlier, the Zocalo had looked like ... well, like the Zocalo. Nothing extraordinary. The same place that Franklin had been going, day in and day out, for the last four years, each time his shift was over. A place where people went to meet, greet, and take it easy at the end of a long day.
The place he was in now was virtually unrecognizable as that place of relaxed partying. The Zocalo was, quite simply, a mess.
Zack had, in passing, mentioned to Franklin that Security's major job at the moment was running all over Babylon 5 putting out fires. But he had been speaking in a metaphorical sense. Here, though, the concern was genuine, as small fires raged throughout the Zocalo. The entire place had been completely trashed.
Franklin, for his part, didn't have the time to take in all of the damage or start compiling a detailed