She gave him a brief nod. "Hello, Captain."

"Commander." He smiled boyishly. "How's traffic tonight?"

"Moderate. Departures are slightly behind schedule, but only one ship is complaining."

Sheridan frowned. "That would be Ambassador G'Kar, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she answered. "He's in his personal transport, and he seems to be in quite a hurry to get out of here."

Sheridan scratched his sandy-gray hair. "I just found out he was leaving. This is rather sudden, isn't it? G'Kar isn't noted for leaving like this, without any ceremony."

"No, sir, he isn't. He was recalled to Homeworld unexpectedly. None of us knows why."

The communications officer broke in. "Commander, the ambassador wants to know if he's been cleared for jump."

"Patch him in to me for a moment," said the captain.

At once, the Narn's spotted cranium and jutting jaw appeared on the monitor in front of Sheridan. He looked agitated. "What is the delay?" demanded the ambassador. "Oh, hello, Captain Sheridan. Is there some difficulty?"

"That was going to be my question," said the captain. "It's not like you to leave as suddenly as this, and I won­dered if there was a problem. Is there anything we can do to help?"

The Narn shook his head impatiently. "I left word that this is a personal matter, which I must handle by myself. I'll be checking in with Na'Toth, and you can consult her about my return. Am I cleared to leave?"

Sheridan hesitated. "Have a safe trip, Ambassador. You know, it's a long way for someone to be flying solo in a small craft."

G'Kar's eyes narrowed. "We all have responsibilities, and some of them we must face alone. Goodbye, Cap­tain."

"Goodbye," said Sheridan.

Ivanova felt an odd apprehension as she went through the pre-launch checklist. "Goodbye" was such a simple word; yet depending on how it was said, it could mean the cheerful parting of a few minutes or the anguished parting of forever. There was something ominous in the way G'Kar and Sheridan had exchanged those simple words. She glanced at Captain Sheridan, who was trying so hard to understand the alien ambassadors and, at the same time, keep his distance from them. Sheridan had yet to learn how futile it was to try to think like them, or how difficult it was to keep from being drawn into their intrigues.

She wanted to tell G'Kar good luck, but all she said was, "Narn transport, you are cleared for departure."

As the small cigar-shaped vessel disengaged from the dock and glided into the starscape, Captain Sheridan shook his head. "Was he in any kind of trouble with his government?"

"I don't know," Ivanova said with a shrug. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't know everything that goes on here."

"Thirty seconds until jump," said a tech.

Captain Sheridan was just turning to leave when it happened. The instruments tracking G'Kar's one-man ship shot off their scales.

"Reactor breach! Narn transport!" shouted a tech.

A colleague added, "Radiation increase of four hundred percent!"

Ivanova pounded her communications panel. "Narn transport, come in! G'Kar!"

The small ship continued to drift for a second until it exploded into a searing cloud of subatomic particles. The explosion blossomed outward through space, until it vanished like a rainbow chased by the sun. In less than two seconds, there was nothing left of G'Kar's personal transport but ever-expanding space dust.

"Oh, my God!" said a tech behind Ivanova.

Captain Sheridan leaned on a panel, gaping with amazement at the glimmering starscape, where there had been a ship a few seconds earlier. He swallowed hard and yelled, "Scramble a Starfury. And a rescue team!"

"Starfury One," said Ivanova, "scramble for recon­naissance—code ten—grid alpha 136. Also, search and rescue, go to grid alpha 136."

"There's nothing left of it," said one stunned tech. "There's not enough left to fill a thimble."

Nobody was going to rescind the order to send a Star-fury and a rescue team, but it certainly looked pointless. A few seconds later, a tech announced that the Starfury was away and circling the coordinates. The rescue team was getting suited up for a space-walk.

Captain Sheridan tapped his link and spoke into the back of his hand. "Sheridan to Garibaldi, come in."

"Yes, sir," said the security chief, sounding a little groggy, as if he'd been taking a nap.

"There's been a terrible accident." Sheridan glanced at Ivanova. "At least we think it's an accident."

"A plasma charge on the main reactor would do that," she said.

Sheridan heaved his shoulders. "Anyway, Chief, G'Kar is dead."

"What!" blurted Garibaldi. "How?"

"Meet me in C-and-C," grumbled Sheridan. "Out."

"Starfury One reporting." Everyone's attention turned to the sleek, quad-winged fighter on the overhead screen. A moment later, that image was replaced by a young man in a helmet. Warren Keffer's face was obscured by the reflections on his faceplate, but Ivanova could still see the worry under the plexiglass.

"Report," she said.

Keffer studied his instruments. "I'm picking up lots of trace elements, residual gases, and a pocket of radiation. I see exactly where the explosion took place, but if you're looking for survivors ... forget it. We'll be lucky to find any debris at all."

Ivanova nodded grimly, having expected the worst. She glanced at Captain Sheridan, and his usually un­ruffled face looked shocked and gaunt. That confirmed it.

G'Kar of the Third Circle, the Narn Regime's first Ambassador to Babylon 5, was dead.

Since G'Kar often worked in his quarters, Na'Toth used her access to go in and organize his transparencies, data crystals, and documents. G'Kar could be messy and disorganized when left to his own devices, and she was looking for commitments he hadn't told her about, perhaps even a clue as to why he had left so sud­denly.

Could he be in trouble with the council? G'Kar's allies in the Kha'Ri were supposed to keep him out of the poli­tical fray, to leave him free to do his job, but they were not always successful. G'Kar was outspoken, short-tempered and secretive—he could have enemies and battles she didn't even know about. Na'Toth sunk into the chair at his desk and saw half-a-dozen data crystals strewn across the desktop. She scooped them up and shoved them into a corner, still wondering about his mysterious departure, going alone and piloting himself.

The door chimed, and Na'Toth lifted her formidable jaw. Temporarily she was the sole representative of the Narn Regime on Babylon 5, and she had to conduct her­self in a certain manner. The visitor was probably a constituent having travel difficulties, or someone making a complaint about some incident of Narn brutality. She had a special data crystal with autoerase for those com­plaints.

"Enter!"

To her surprise, it wasn't a confused tourist but Captain John Sheridan, followed by Security Chief Garibaldi and Commander Ivanova. Na'Toth bristled in her chair, thinking that they were after information. But even if she knew anything, which she didn't, she wasn't about to discuss G'Kar's personal affairs with a bunch of Earthers.

"Can I help you?"

Captain Sheridan halted and straightened his shoulders. He looked back at his subordinates, but they both looked dazed and unable to offer him any help. Na'Toth turned slowly in her chair, realizing that they weren't after information—they had come to deliver it. "The ambassador..." Sheridan said hoarsely. "Ambassador G'Kar is dead. His ship exploded just before reaching the jump gate."

"What!" shouted Na'Toth, leaping to her feet. She brought her fist down on the desk with a thud, and the data crystals bounced out of the corner and rolled around.