her throat constricting.
He took a step toward her.
And then the door to his quarters hissed open.
Leo didn't hesitate. Even though he couldn't see who was entering, his fingers seized the point of the knife and, with a quick snap of his arm, he hurled it. Not so long ago, he couldn't have exhibited such expertise and aptitude in injuring others. But since he had embraced the One, had given himself over to the embrace, there were things he knew that he'd never known before. Things of such importance that he couldn't quite understand how he had survived not knowing them until now.
The knife hurtled through the air, spinning viciously like an angry buzz saw ... and struck its target.
* * *
Some time ago-an eternity, it seemed-Garibaldi had shown Sheridan an Earth vid from the Earth Film Preservation Society, an organization of which Garibaldi was a dedicated member, mostly because of their commitment to classic animation. In his capacity as a member, he wound up getting all manner of oddities for screening. One evening Sheridan had walked past Garibaldi's quarters and heard the security chief laughing like a madman. He'd called through the door, asking if Garibaldi was all right, and for a response Garibaldi had emerged from his quarters, grabbed Sheridan by the arm and said urgently, "You've got to see this!"
It was a vid of an ancient film entitled The Great Race. The sequence which had elicited such high hilarity from Garibaldi involved a massive fight in which hundreds, perhaps thousands, of pies were being hurled by assorted participants on either side of a fairly large room. The pies were slamming into everyone and everything, with incredibly messy results. Garibaldi had thought this to be a laugh riot, and Sheridan had been loath to comment that