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deep, distant, massive humming noise. He identified it at once as the sound of a fleet of spaceships, approaching, but still a long way away.
    Sheridan said, “I thought you said this world was dead.”
    “It is. The killers are coming back to check on their handiwork. We should go. They probably can’t pick up on my probe, but there’s no point in risking it.”
    He looked at Sheridan--an electrifying look. “ Remember what you have seen.”
    The humming sound increased and Sheridan looked toward the sky. He thought he saw something moving through the clouds--something dark and massive and made of strange angles--a huge spaceship of some kind...
    When he looked down again, Galen was gone.
    “There were some things I wanted to ask him,” Sheridan said ruefully.
    He looked at the spot where Galen had been. The ground was marked where he had been digging with his stick. It looked like letters. Sheridan walked around to where Galen had been squatting. He could read what Galen had scratched in the dirt. Words. Daltron 7 .
    The name of a planet, most likely. But Sheridan didn’t think he had ever heard of a world by that name.
    He looked up again as the humming sound increased. He had the impression that the massive spaceship was coming closer.
    He searched the sky, trying to make out its shape. And found he was looking at the pastel ceiling above his bunk bed aboard Excalibur .
    He sat up, startled. From the nearby window, he could see that Excalibur was slowly moving away from the spacedock. To one side he could see the space tugs that were towing the big ship out.
    “Guess they got it fixed,” Sheridan said aloud.
     
    He took the time now to shower and shave. Then he poured himself a coffee from a carafe and sat down to think things over.
    He knew that something amazing had happened to him, but he didn’t know what it was or what it meant. No doubt the meaning of what he had seen would be revealed to him in the fullness of time. His impatient spirit rebelled against that thought. He wanted the answers now, but there was no way he could get them. Although it didn’t suit his nature, he had to be patient.
    For a moment Sheridan considered the possibility that his blackouts might be the result of job pressure--the office of the presidency finally taking its toll. His position was demanding, and he took his duty very seriously. The lives of countless individuals required that he do so. It had been that way for five years.
    Years. How many of those did he have remaining? How many had he left behind, on Z’ha’dum? That was another source of pressure--the ticking of the clock. Twenty years and counting.
    This isn’t doing anyone any good, he mused. I know what I’ve seen, and ignoring it won’t get me anywhere. Best to get back to work. The full truth would reveal itself in due course.
    He went up to the bridge. Garibaldi was sitting in the captain’s chair. He got up when Sheridan came in. Drake was standing nearby. The man didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He was plucking nervously at a button on his uniform, quite unconscious of what he was doing.
    Drake said, “I had to call up those tugs at pretty short notice. We could really use a few more.”
    Garibaldi shrugged unsympathetically. “It ain’t pretty, but at least it’ll get us out to the firing range. You get to live another ten minutes, Drake.”
    Drake stared at Garibaldi’s face: blank, hostile, sardonic. How he hated the man! But there was nothing he could do about it yet. He forced his own face into a formal mask of acceptance. He was going to have to take this for a little longer.
    “Yes, sir,” Drake said in a formal tone. “Thank you, sir.”
     

Chapter 10
     
    Although she’d heard of this place even before she had arrived on Babylon 5, Dureena still found Down Below astonishing, a cacophony of chaos--especially after the clean, modernistic look of the customs area. Going through there had been like moving through a dream