Disclaimer: Babylon Five and all related characters are property of the Great Maker, J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Productions, and Warner Bros. Television.

EarthDome

Psi Corps

The Corps is Mother. The Corps is father. Alfred Bester recited the mantra again in his mind, as he took his time walking down the hallway, even though he was almost certain what this meeting was about. While he was deep in the thick of some of the worst of the Psi Corps, sometimes his own beloved organization scared the hell out of him. Ever since Sheridan's forces had discovered the true source of the Telepath "weapons" Bester had to confess that he wasn't sure what the Psi Corps was becoming. There were those in the Corps who didn't care about Sheridan's people or Earth in general and Bester knew he was expected to share this attitude, but secretly he didn't share it. Yes, he had his own plans for his telepaths but... he had despite himself come to respect Sheridan in his own way. Not that he would ever tell him that.

Did he feel remorse for what he had done to Garibaldi? Reprogramming him so that he would turn away from one of his closest friends in the universe? Hell, no. Garibaldi's betrayal hadn't helped him any directly, but Bester did enjoy getting the best of Sheridan's security chief after all, and orders were orders. It wasn't his fault. When the President calls, it's difficult to say no, especially under today's circumstances. One might find oneself up for treason, if one were to disobey direct orders from the Administration these days.

No, Bester didn't know what Earth was becoming, but nor did he particularly care. He would work with Sheridan against these Shadows of his, playing both sides against the middle, and he would be in a position to gain any information that might allow him to move those he knew were loyal to him – his Black Omega bloodhounds, for one, into position so that he could start his own little war. He nearly smiled at the thought – and then he thought of Carolyn.

Who was Carolyn? Carolyn was, in a few short words, the only living being Bester had ever felt real love for. The arranged marriage from the Psi Corps to his wife back on Mars was little more than tolerance of each other, and precious little of it at that. He had rarely seen his daughter since she was born and knew that she would be raised to become a Psi Cop. No, it was Carolyn who was the one light in the darkness of the world in which he was forced to exist. And she was safe, on Babylon Five under the protection of Sheridan and his people. Away from the insanity that was EarthDome these days. Away from Clark and his paranoia, his propaganda, his secrets. Bester knew that if Sheridan failed to move against Clark when he was done his little war with the Shadows, it would only be a matter of time before Clark turned the hysteria that was his anti-alien campaign now, onto telepaths and anyone else different.

He thought of Byron, and he sighed. What was it all for, he wondered, not for the first time. What was any of it for? Byron, his wayward protégé, was the one regret that he had about all of this. The loss of Byron hurt more than Bester liked to admit. Byron would have to be dealt with, but in time. There were other, more pressing problems, than just another blip. At the end of the day they were on the same side, and Bester knew that one day he would be able to explain this to Byron and the others who had followed him, make them understand. Bring them home.

And so Bester, his blocks firmly in place (since some of his thoughts could be considered treason) opened the door and walked into the meeting that he was expected to attend. Was it worth it at the end of the day? As Sheridan so gently put it, abso-fraggin'-lutely, dammit.

"Ah, Al, thank you for coming," David, his supervisor, pointed to the chair across from the desk and reached for the cup of coffee in front of him. While David often had trainees in his office for Bester to meet or other Psi Cops with whom he wanted to discuss whatever problem happened to be at hand, there were no such individuals today, which told Bester that something unexpected was up.

"We have a rogue problem. It's a special case, one I'd like you on in particular. One of our finest has, suddenly and abruptly, decided to stray from our fold. I think we can talk her down, bring her back to the family, with a minimum of bloodshed. She's been doing some fairly intense training lately and I think that might be partly responsible," David said with a pained look on his face.

"I'll take care of it," Bester said confidently. "Who is it?"

"Karen Langham. I'm sorry, Al." David said sadly.

"I don't believe it," Bester said, the fight suddenly going out of him. "Karen would never betray the Corps."

"I know, which is why I wanted you on this one, Al. She's loyal to you in particular and whatever is going on may be able to be explained. I hope I'm wrong, but the package we received in the mail tells me that she meant this as a personal message to us. Fingerprint and DNA checks confirmed that this is indeed from Karen, Al." He passed a package across the desk and Bester took it. Using his right hand and holding the package between his knees he removed the contents. A pair of black leather gloves, an unregistered PPG handgun and a Psi Corps badge were all that were inside. Bester shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it.

"You've tested for DNA, I gather," he said.

"Yes, and dusted her badge and gun for prints. Only Karen's are on the badge and the gun, and the envelope for that matter."

"I can't accept this. She wouldn't have betrayed us." the idea was foreign to him. She was his protege, after Byron had left them, he refused to believe that he would have been fooled a second time. "She must be in trouble. Where did the package originate?"

"Your favorite place in the universe," David said with a spark of slight amusement in his eyes despite the situation at hand, which made Bester close his eyes in anticipation of the rest of the answer. "Babylon Five."

Babylon Five

Customs

"You know, it's actually been a quiet day for a change," Michael Garibaldi remarked to his second, Zack Allen, as he sat on his butt on a railing and stuffed his hands into his pockets, glancing around in boredom at the few aliens and humans still milling about, mostly, now, those waiting for passengers aboard the transport from Earth that had just docked. "I would just love to be bored outta my skull for twenty-four hours. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Come on, Chief. Surely the Universe will give us one day, one day in five years, when absolutely nothing happens."

"Don't jinx it, Zack, those are famous last words around here."

"Come on, Chief, it's almost the end of the shift. What's going to happen in the next ten minutes? You think the Second Coming is going to come through the --" Zack broke off and blinked in surprise at the passenger, while not the Second Coming, equally as unwelcome depending on your point of view.

"I believe, Mr. Allen," Alfred Bester said, holding out his identicard with his good hand, "That the word you happen to be looking for is 'door.'"

"Swell," Garibaldi observed. "Told you. I'll go tell the Captain. Catch you later, Zack." Giving Bester a look he felt was well deserved Garibaldi headed for the turbolift. Famous last words. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut.