understand.
But now he was trapped.
Or was he? It still wasn’t too late to back out. He could get out of it. He hadn’t committed himself irrevocably, not yet. He was a prominent person; they couldn’t touch him if he changed his mind. They wouldn’t dare.
He heaved a long, shuddering sigh. He could end all this. With Cora at his side, anything was possible.
Chapter 7
A call from Delenn was such a pleasant thing to look forward to. Sheridan was surprised. They hadn’t planned to talk for another few days. Still, it was a welcome treat.
Sheridan strode down the corridor leading from the bridge to the interior parts of the ship. He was sure of his direction, but hadn’t counted on the size of the vessel. It took a lot longer to get from point to point on Excalibur than it did on a White Star. The walk was pleasant enough, down a wide corridor that seemed to dip slightly downward as he walked on it. The lighting was even, monotonous, hypnotic. He thought it might be a good idea to do something more dramatic with it. This evenly lit corridor, which gave the sensation that you were traveling into the depths of a dream, was almost hypnotic to the senses. Some sounds would also be good here. Help to wake people up!
Still, that was a minor point. So far, he approved of the ship’s layout. It showed good common sense. He had to congratulate Drake on that.
He found his way without difficulty to the conference room. It was large and pleasantly lit, with contrasting pastel wall colors and rug. It had the good smell of a new ship about it. Inside, there was a long light-colored table, with six chairs around it. Near the far wall was a small table with a pot of steaming coffee ready for him. Sheridan smiled. He was sure Garibaldi had thought of this detail.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, sipped it appreciatively for a moment, and went to the chair at the head of the table, next to a video monitor with its ready light blinking.
Sheridan spoke. “You have a message for me?”
The computer monitor’s voice replied, “Message received, President Sheridan. Ready to display.”
“Good, let’s see it,” Sheridan said, and he leaned forward toward the screen.
The monitor came to life in a series of vivid swirling colors. That was strange. Sheridan couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like it. Excalibur must be using new software, he thought. The swirling colors changed into interlocking shapes, turning, twirling, coalescing and separating again. No data was coming through, no printout, not even an explanatory voice-over. But Sheridan found that he wasn’t impatient. It was strangely soothing just sitting in front of this glowing screen, relaxed, watching the changing shapes and colors. Like watching a dream. Funny he should think of that...
He watched the display, and he felt slowed down and content. Tension that he hadn’t even been aware of seemed to be draining from his muscles. He sat there, perfectly relaxed, the cup of coffee cooling beside him, forgotten, and watched the swirling shapes.
Even when the display went off he was still perfectly at ease, and in no hurry to move.
Garibaldi was nervous and impatient. Ten minutes seemed long enough to him for the president to receive his message and get back to the bridge. He waited another five minutes. No message came from the conference room, even though it was connected to the bridge. Faint alarm bells went off in Garibaldi’s mind. He was sure nothing was wrong... but still...
He got up and hurried down the corridor to the conference room.
The door was closed. Protocol demanded that he wait until Sheridan summoned him. His own built-in sense of urgency disagreed. He pressed his ear against the door and tried to hear what was going on. He couldn’t make out a sound.
He straightened and began pacing, trying to decide what to do. He was not happy about this at all. He walked up and down outside the door, glancing frequently at his watch. He
But now he was trapped.
Or was he? It still wasn’t too late to back out. He could get out of it. He hadn’t committed himself irrevocably, not yet. He was a prominent person; they couldn’t touch him if he changed his mind. They wouldn’t dare.
He heaved a long, shuddering sigh. He could end all this. With Cora at his side, anything was possible.
Chapter 7
A call from Delenn was such a pleasant thing to look forward to. Sheridan was surprised. They hadn’t planned to talk for another few days. Still, it was a welcome treat.
Sheridan strode down the corridor leading from the bridge to the interior parts of the ship. He was sure of his direction, but hadn’t counted on the size of the vessel. It took a lot longer to get from point to point on Excalibur than it did on a White Star. The walk was pleasant enough, down a wide corridor that seemed to dip slightly downward as he walked on it. The lighting was even, monotonous, hypnotic. He thought it might be a good idea to do something more dramatic with it. This evenly lit corridor, which gave the sensation that you were traveling into the depths of a dream, was almost hypnotic to the senses. Some sounds would also be good here. Help to wake people up!
Still, that was a minor point. So far, he approved of the ship’s layout. It showed good common sense. He had to congratulate Drake on that.
He found his way without difficulty to the conference room. It was large and pleasantly lit, with contrasting pastel wall colors and rug. It had the good smell of a new ship about it. Inside, there was a long light-colored table, with six chairs around it. Near the far wall was a small table with a pot of steaming coffee ready for him. Sheridan smiled. He was sure Garibaldi had thought of this detail.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, sipped it appreciatively for a moment, and went to the chair at the head of the table, next to a video monitor with its ready light blinking.
Sheridan spoke. “You have a message for me?”
The computer monitor’s voice replied, “Message received, President Sheridan. Ready to display.”
“Good, let’s see it,” Sheridan said, and he leaned forward toward the screen.
The monitor came to life in a series of vivid swirling colors. That was strange. Sheridan couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like it. Excalibur must be using new software, he thought. The swirling colors changed into interlocking shapes, turning, twirling, coalescing and separating again. No data was coming through, no printout, not even an explanatory voice-over. But Sheridan found that he wasn’t impatient. It was strangely soothing just sitting in front of this glowing screen, relaxed, watching the changing shapes and colors. Like watching a dream. Funny he should think of that...
He watched the display, and he felt slowed down and content. Tension that he hadn’t even been aware of seemed to be draining from his muscles. He sat there, perfectly relaxed, the cup of coffee cooling beside him, forgotten, and watched the swirling shapes.
Even when the display went off he was still perfectly at ease, and in no hurry to move.
Garibaldi was nervous and impatient. Ten minutes seemed long enough to him for the president to receive his message and get back to the bridge. He waited another five minutes. No message came from the conference room, even though it was connected to the bridge. Faint alarm bells went off in Garibaldi’s mind. He was sure nothing was wrong... but still...
He got up and hurried down the corridor to the conference room.
The door was closed. Protocol demanded that he wait until Sheridan summoned him. His own built-in sense of urgency disagreed. He pressed his ear against the door and tried to hear what was going on. He couldn’t make out a sound.
He straightened and began pacing, trying to decide what to do. He was not happy about this at all. He walked up and down outside the door, glancing frequently at his watch. He
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