“Yes, ma’am,” said Garibaldi pleasantly, “we’ve got to open up your briefcase and look inside.”

“I d-don’t know why you should,” muttered the short, dark-skinned woman. But she started to unlatch her case, anyway.

Garibaldi calmly took the case and set it on the table. As most of the contents were folders of transparencies, brochures, and business cards, he didn’t empty it onto one of the bins set aside for that purpose. But he did feel around on the bottom to come up with four smaller objects: her identicard, a creditchit, a dictaphone, and a data crystal.

He held the data crystal out. “What is this?”

The woman put her hands on her hips and gave him a quizzical stare. “Are you saying you don’t know what it is?”

“No,” said Garibaldi, dropping the crystal and the other objects back into the case. “Just wanted to make sure it was yours. Officer Baker will search your person.”

Huffily, the woman stomped on, and a female officer took charge of her.

Garibaldi sighed and looked up to find the cadaverous female Psi Cop.

“Uh, good morning,” he said warily. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”

She grinned evilly. “Yes. Trixie and I stayed up all night, talking about the good old days. I never laughed so hard in my life.” She winked at him. “We were experimenting a lot in those days.”

“I’ll bet,” admitted Garibaldi. He pointed to her bag. “Can you open it, please?”

“Gladly.” Without hesitation, the black-uniformed cop opened her handbag. “You are doing a fine job, Mr. Garibaldi. If anything happens, I know it won’t have been your fault.”

As he checked her bag, he whispered, “What do you think is going to happen?”

She held her regal chin up and sniffed. “It’s just something in their air, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s fresh paint,” said Garibaldi. “Thank you.”

“You will pat me down personally, won’t you?”

He winked at her. “Maybe the last day.”

With a deep-throated laugh, the woman moved on. Garibaldi went through the same routine with dozens of telepaths, all of whom offered various levels of resistance. However, many of them seemed to feign their anger; they secretly welcomed the overt demonstration of security, even if it did suggest that Psi Corps didn’t entirely trust its own members. 

Garibaldi was just getting into a good rhythm, working the attendees through the main entrance to Green-12. That’s when he looked up to see Mr. Bester.

The Psi Cop smiled and held up his hands. “No briefcase or bag.” He tapped his head. “I keep everything I need up here.”

“That’s convenient,” said Garibaldi. “I’m going to wave you through. No pat-down.”

“How disappointing,” said Bester, glancing at Officer Baker. “Is conference room number nine secured?”

“We’ve swept it twice,” answered the Security Chief. “The lock will only open for the attendees on my list.” He showed him a transparency of the invited guests for the ten o’clock budget meeting.

“Hmmm,” said Bester with interest. “Ms. Winters is coming, too. What a pleasant surprise.”

Garibaldi screwed his mouth shut and nodded. “I’ve got people piling up here, excuse me.”

“Go on, go on,” said Bester with a wave. He strolled through into the Green Sector, greeting people standing among the potted plants, refreshment tables, and beckoning doorways.

Garibaldi sighed and went back to the next glowering telepath. “Excuse me, sir, you’ll have to open up your briefcase.”

“By whose authority?” grumbled a black-suited Psi Cop.

The chief smiled. “Security Regulation 13, section 4, sub-paragraph B, Special Circumstance 2.”

Talia lifted her arms and let the pat-down conclude as quickly as possible. It was embarrassing. Was Garibaldi doing this just to prove he was in charge? Oh, well, she had too much else on her mind to worry about the games he might be playing. She had come down through a lift entrance from another Green deck, thinking that she might avoid a security check. Fat chance.

“Sorry, Ms. Winters,” said a young female security officer, handing her portfolio back. “Just following orders.”

She nodded and tried to smile. “How are the attendees taking it?”

“Okay, mostly.” The lift opened again, and the officer was distracted. “Excuse me, sir, I’ll have to look inside that.”

Talia shook her head and moved on. The overzealous searches were a statement, but maybe they were the right statement. Despite the success of the reception the night before, there was a pall hanging over the conference. Of course, that was due mostly to the bombing of the original site, which was symptomatic of the ongoing problems of Mars. Everybody was thinking about Mars, but nobody wanted to talk about it. Mr. Bester had called down early that morning to abruptly cancel two seminars on Mars.

Oh, well, there was still plenty going on. Too much, in fact. She checked her watch to make sure she wasn’t running late to what was shaping up to be her most important appointment of the conference.

“There you are,” said a warm voice, and Arthur Malten was upon her. He was dressed in a very conservative gray suit this morning. It was almost an Earthforce uniform, except for the fact that it only had one insignia, Psi Corps, the only one that mattered.

“Arthur,” she said noncommittally, barely brushing his outstretched hand with hers.

He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry we never got back together last night. You knew, I struck out with Bester.”

“That’s fine,” she said cheerfully. “There was nothing left to talk about. In fact, I’d rather not talk about it this morning.”

She started to move away from him, but Malten doggedly followed. “Now don’t be discouraged. That was just the opening salvo. I thought we could slip it past him, so to speak, but he understands your worth. He’ll want to take something out of my hide for hiring you, I can see that now. But there are other approaches. We’ll find the right one.”

Talia wondered if she should tell Arthur right this minute that she wasn’t interested in leaving B5. No, she decided, this wasn’t the time or place to muddy the waters. Concentrate on the job at hand, her inner voice told her.

Malten rubbed his hands together. “At any rate, now we know he’s interested in you and your career. This is something good to find out.” He quickly added, “For you.”

“Of course,” she agreed, thinking of her disturbing conversation with Bester last night. Right now, she just wanted to get this budget meeting finished, then move on to the more pleasant aspects of the conference.

“How should we proceed?” she asked.

“Don’t attack Bester or the Psi Cops directly,” answered Malten. “But it’s okay to rake the military over the coals. I believe in being positive, expressing all the good things we’re doing.

He guided her down the corridor, which was flowing in both directions with conference attendees trying to find the right room, or the right person, or the right intimate group. Garibaldi’s security people were on hand to provide directions and give everyone another dose of suspicious scrutiny. The ebb and flow calmed her nerves for a moment and made her realize that she, Bester, and Malten weren’t the only ones in this place. As much as they thought the universe revolved around them, it didn’t.

In three short days, Bester, Malten, and all these self-important people would be leaving. Back to their slimepits, as Garibaldi so succinctly put it. And she would be going back to her peaceful life as the resident telepath on B5, none the worse for wear. What was she so nervous about?

Emily Crane nearly bumped into her. “Oh, excuse me, the researcher said sheepishly.”

“Hi,” said Talia. She looked over her shoulder, but Malten had been waylaid by a band of commercial telepaths who were giving him last-second instructions.

“How’s it going this morning?” asked Talia.

Emily made a face and shrugged. “I’m afraid m-most of the panels and seminars will be free-for-all messes. But what can I do about it?”

“Exactly,” said the tall, blond telepath. “That’s going to be my attitude from now on. What can I do about it?”

“Oh,” said Emily, fishing in her briefcase, “here’s that d-data crystal. Nobody takes time to look at figures, but you can say we have them.”\”Thanks,” said Talia. She slipped the crystal into her slim portfolio and sighed. She had to tell somebody. “Emily, I don’t think I’ll be joining the Mix anytime in the near future.”

The small woman smiled. “Well, it’s not for everyone.”

“But,” said Talia, “I would like to talk to someone about opening a branch office someday. Here on B5.”

Emily fished in her briefcase for a program. “There’s a seminar on that very subject, t-tomorrow at noon. Terrible time, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be there,” Talia promised. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’ve been a help, too,” Emily assured her. “Mr. Malten would never ask this, but you might want to sit close to Mr. Bester.”

“I will,” said Talia. “Since I don’t feel comfortable with this material, I’ll be as distracting as possible.”

“Good-bye,” said Emily. She touched her watch. “I’ve got a d-demonstration to prepare.”

“See you later.”

The small woman scurried off down the hall and dashed around the corner. Everybody was in a hurry but Talia; she felt as if her feet were in molasses, and her head wasn’t much better. This decision not to press Bester, not to push for promotion, had made her calmer, but it had also left her feeling drained. The adrenaline and emotions that had pumped all day yesterday were gone, without much left to replace them. It was just as well she wasn’t doing any demonstrations, because she didn’t feel as if she would be able to do an accurate scan on a two-year-old.

Suddenly, Talia had a strange image of Ambassador Kosh in her head. It was a flashback to that silly scan of “Invisible Isabel” three days earlier. She could see the Vorlon’s mysterious bulk looming over her, the questioning tilt of his massive head-gear, his tubes and orifices probing the air.

The voice which was not there.

A little explosion went off in her head, and she staggered for a moment. She caught herself on the wall before falling down completely. Malten rushed over to catch her.

“Are you all right?” he asked with concern.

“Oh, sure,” she lied. “Just lost my balance. How much time do we have?”