by Peter David
Her mind knew, beyond all doubt, that yes, it was a nightmare. But her heart knew better. She heard a voice cry out "Help me! Somebody, help me!" and there was such terror in it that it didn't even fully register on her that it was, in fact, her own voice.
From all around her there were explosions, alarms screeching, the sounds of running feet and orders being barked. Over all of that, the last words of Dukhat could not be heard. He whispered to her and she tried to hear him. She drew close to him, put her ear to his lips, but all she managed to detect was a single, unsteady death rattle.
And she howled in a voice that she not only didn't recognize as her own, but this time didn't even seem vaguely Minbari. It was the cry of a lost soul.
* * *
Jankowski was not out to destroy the Minbari. He merely wanted to save his own neck. And the opportunity shortly presented itself as Chafm saw the electronic systems on his board suddenly snap to normal. He now had full access to the jump engines, and there could only be one reason for it. He shouted, "We hit the scanner array! We can jump now!"
"Then get us the hell out of here!" Jankowski ordered.
Seconds later a jump point opened, providing salvation there in the depths of space. The Earth fleet leapt into hyperspace and, seconds later, vanished.
Delenn clutched Dukhat's body to her, sobbing hysterically, and then Copelann, one of the Grey Councilors, stumbled toward her through the debris and confusion. He gasped upon seeing Dukhat lying in Delenn's arms. It took only the merest glance to confirm that Dukhat was already gone. Copelann was filled with rage, but he fought to steady himself and deliver the message as quickly as possible.
"Delenn, we need to strike back, but the Council is divided. Do we follow them back to their base and take revenge? Or wait and find out what happened? Yours is the deciding vote, Delenn."
His words registered deep in the roiling cauldron that had become her soul. To a degree, she blamed herself. She had researched the Humans, studied them. If she had been more thorough, somehow she might have anticipated this. She had underestimated them, dismissed them. She should have shouted a warning to fire upon them before they were given the opportunity to attack, for clearly such barbarians were not entitled to the courtesies accorded civilized races.
"He was the best of us," she said, her hand running along the unmoving brow of Dukhat. "They struck without provocation. There was no reason . . . animals . . . brutal, unthinking .. ."
The rage flooded through her, and her body uncoiled like a spring. Her fists balled, her arms stiff, she allowed the fury to take her as she snarled, "They deserve no mercy? Strike them down! Follow them back to their base and kill them! Destroy them! All of them! Do you understand me? No mercy! No mercy!"
Copelann ran off down the hallway, and suddenly Delenn was aware of other Minbari -Grey Council members, caste members, anyone and everyone within proximity-charging toward the fallen Dukhat. But none of them was carrying medical equipment, as if this were a last-ditch effort to try to save him. Instead they were carrying hand weapons of all sorts.
Delenn looked around in newborn confusion as they formed a wall around the fallen body of their leader. Directly in front of her was Morann, and next to him, Lenonn. What sort of danger could be so overwhelming that-?
And then it hit her. Then she realized.
She saw him approaching, a bizarre and terrifying individual.
A Soul Hunter.
The Minbari had formed a solid wall of bodies around Dukhat, and Delenn shoved her way up to the front line and linked her elbows with the others. They radiated defiance, and the Soul Hunter was momentarily taken aback. "You would not let me perform the function for which I have been prepared all my life? You are a most cruel people, you Minbari:'
"Get away from him," Delenn said tightly.
"You are making a terrible mistake," the Soul Hunter told them. "If the soul is not carefully preserved, it will be forever lost."
"If the soul is carefully preserved, it will be forever trapped and unable to move to its next incarnation," Delenn shot back. "You shall not have him."
"Consider carefully the gamble you are making with-"
"You shall not have him!"
Her response was so infuriated, so intense, that the Soul Hunter disappeared without raising any further issues.
~ chapter 7 ~
Oh, the champagne was flowing at Earthdome.
A gathering was being held in the main reception hall to celebrate the great victory which had been achieved by the Prometheus. I remember the room as clearly as if it were yesterday. There was General Lefcourt, moving from one dignitary to the next, nodding, smiling, accepting congratulations. Never far behind him was Captain Jankowski, likewise accepting all the praise that was being offered him.
Several times throughout the course of the evening, the visual log from the Prometheus was run on a large screen. Every moment, from the move out of hyperspace, to the first contact with the Minbari cruiser, to the open assault, hurried battle, and escape, was played out in loving detail. There was even applause as the weapons of Earthforce ripped into the cruisers, ships belonging to an unseen, unknown enemy who had been about to fire, without provocation, on the exploratory Earth vessels.
"Hell of a job, Captain," Hastur, the presidential aide, was telling him. He clapped Jankowski on the back and winked approvingly at Lefcourt. "Clearly, General, you picked the right man for the job. You're to be commended."
Jankowski spotted someone across the room, and turned to Lefcourt. "General, I see someone I should really say hello to." The general nodded, indicating that Jankowski was free to go, and quickly Jankowski crossed the room, zeroing in on his intended victim.
For standing off to one side, taking in the celebration but not truly seeming a part of it, were Captain Roger Stems and his second-in-command, John Sheridan. Stems was dark-skinned with hair graying at the temples, hardened eyes, and an air about him that indicated he did not suffer fools gladly. Stems was holding a drink. Sheridan's hand was empty. Stems and Sheridan noticed that Jankowski had zeroed in on them, but made no move as Jankowski -with his accustomed swagger-strode up to them.
"Well," he said confidently. "Well, well, Commander Sheridan. And what do you think now?"
Sheridan looked politely confused. "I beg your pardon, Captain Jankowski?"
"Could have been you out there, Commander." He gestured toward the monitor which was, at that moment, replaying the encounter. "Could have been you striking a blow for the safety of the Earth alliance."
"Could have been me on the ship that fired first," Sheridan said evenly.
"And you consider that a bad thing?" Jankowski looked astounded. "You know, Sheridan, word got back to me regarding your comments. It must be galling you to have been so completely wrong. You could have been part of the winning team, Sheridan. But perhaps it was lucky that you turned me down after all. I suspect that if it was up to you, the Prometheus would be scrap metal by now and the security of the Earth severely compromised."
"If it were up to me, you'd be court-martialed," Sheridan said, bristling, but Sterns put a cautioning hand against Sheridan's chest to calm him.
Jankowski looked at Sterns with a cold eye. "Keep your officers in check, Captain, if you would be so kind. I do not appreciate hearing such commentary delivered by an offtcet who is so jealous of the achievements of others that he has to try to denigrate a heroic event in order to quell his own envy."
"Rather taken with ourselves tonight, Mike," Sterns said coolly. "If you ask me, you look rather like a trapped deer in that playback. I'm somewhat surprised that you take pride in it."
"We attacked and demolished an enemy whom the Centauri claimed was vastly superior" was Jankowski's arch reply. "We brought back telemetry and information on the Minbari vessels, albeit-I admit-limited. And we let yet another race know that Humanity is not to be taken for granted."
"Oh, you've sent that message quite loudly, I assure you."
Jan
kowski looked surprised, for neither Sheridan nor Sterns had spoken. He turned and I emerged from the shadows of the nearby corner, a drink in my hand and a sense of doom in my heart.
"Ambassador," Jankowski said in a most condescending tone. "I'm surprised you would actually show up here."
"I live for surprises," I told him. "But may I ask why you are, in fact, surprised?"
"Because General Lefcourt told me that you advised against any encounter with the Minbari."
"I did, yes," I agreed.
"You said," and Jankowski was swaggering with confidence, "that even the Centauri at their height never went head-to-head with the Minbari."
"That is also correct"
"You said that we might -what was your phrasing? -wake up the dragon."
"Right a third time," I said with every appearance of extreme joviality. "And you have."
"You know what I think?" Jankowski said.
"I would be fairly ecstatic to know your opinion," I told him. Sheridan and Sterns were looking from Jankowski to me and back again, uncertain of why I had inserted myself into their conversation.
"I think that the Centauri are stinking, worthless cowards."
Lefcourt had drawn within range of the conversation, and there was now a distinct expression of alarm on his face. "Captain!" he said, catching Jankowski's attention. It was more than likely that Lefcourt shared his opinion, but he was far too politic-or simply in too good a mood-to say so.
And I laughed. I think my laughter made them nervous. "No, no ... it's quite all right," I said. "You're certainly entitled to think that. And now I will tell you what I think . . . no. Actually, I will tell you what I know."
"Please do." Jankowski gestured expansively.
"I come here," I said, "because I make it a point never to miss a send-off."
Jankowski looked to Lefcourt, who in turn looked at Sheridan and Sterns. Both shrugged, not pretending to understand. "Send-off-?" asked Lefcourt at length.
"Why yes. A send-off party for the Human race. You see . . . you are dead, and simply do not know it yet. All of you. Everyone in this room, more than likely. Everyone in your system, everyone on this planet. And you, my dear captain" -and I pointed at Jankowski -"will go from being the hero of the hour to the demon of the century. For you have, as you say, sown the wind, and the whirlwind you will reap will be as nothing that you've ever known."
"Ambassador, such gloom and doom," Lefcourt chided, trying to achieve some degree of joviality. "This is a party, after all."
And I raised my voice far more loudly than I had intended, so that it carried even over the noise of the other guests. It was the drink in me, I suppose, or maybe just the desire to let the arrogant fools know just what they had done to themselves. "This is not a party, this is a wake!" I roared.
Enough people heard my ire that conversation momentarily subsided. Then there were subdued conversations, confused whisperings, pointed fingers, and even more pointed glances. Jankowski and Lefcourt shook their heads and moved away from me. Sheridan studied me thoughtfully. "You really think the Minbari will strike back?"
"I know they will," I said.
"You have inside information?" Sterns asked.
"I have my contacts, but not in this instance. My usual contact has been incommunicado. Indeed, that alone is enough to alert me. If he's that busy, then he's busy as part of preparations for a counterattack. But since I am unable to give specifics as to what a Minbari strike might be, your superiors assume that I am simply refusing to admit what they desire to hear. You see, they think that the Minbari are afraid of Humans." And I proceeded to laugh again, for truly it was a rather amusing thought. "The Minbari . . . afraid of Humans!" I guffawed once more.
"Ambassador-" Sheridan began.
"Tell me, Commander... Captain ... do you have family? Loved ones? Yes, of course you do," I said as they nodded, uncomprehending. "Might I suggest that you spend some time with them. Take vacation time if you have any coming to you. Sick days as well. Trust me on this: Saving it for future use will prove to be an exercise in futility."
And before either Sheridan or Sterns could reply, we began to notice something. From the far ends of the great hall, assorted military aides were moving quickly through the crowd, whispering to officers in hurried conference. As that happened, in each instance, the officers blanched or gasped or in some way or other made clear that they were stunned by what they were hearing.
Jankowski was sipping a drink at the time and he actually choked on it, which made for a most impressive spew. Lefcourt likewise appeared shocked, and someone was approaching Captain Sterns when the news suddenly became common knowledge, courtesy of the large monitor which had been set up in the upper portion of the room.
The monitor was now carrying an Interstellar News Network broadcast, and there was an INN newscaster who looked as stunned as the various officers had been. She was saying, "And this footage, just broadcast to INN, has been confirmed as genuine. We repeat, it is genuine . . . and shocking."
The screen rippled for just a moment, and then we were seeing a broadcast of an Earth fleet located in the depths of space. The broadcast was transmitted from within one ship, and we were seeing what the ship itself was seeing on one of its screens: a cluster of Minbari cruisers, advancing quickly. Other Earth vessels were in evidence, and they were being cut to pieces. A hail of beams tore out of the cruisers, smashing through one Earth ship after another. Ships either erupted quickly in fireballs, or else blasted apart to leave bodies floating in the coldness of space . . . bodies which were promptly incinerated by additional bolts from the Minbari weapons.
We heard a frantic voice, presumably the voice of the captain whose ship was providing us the view of the ghastly tragedy. "This is the Euripides, we surrender," he begged -begged- them. "For the love of God, we surren-"
He did not manage to get out the rest of the sentence, for we saw a coruscating beam of energy angle toward our view, and then the Euripides was promptly blasted out of existence.
We returned to the shaken newscaster, who said, "We repeat: A war fleet believed to belong to the mysterious Minbari has struck at a core Earthforce base, destroying every single vehicle that-"
Then she stopped, clearly reacting to something offscreen. She mouthed a word ... the word "no" ... and then managed to say, "Ladies and gentlemen ... we have ... we are going live to Jericho Three ... a station, a colony with nine hundred residents. It is ... it is presently under attack by the Minbari. . . repeat, we go live ..."
"Live" may have been too generous a term. Jericho 3 was the base for the fleet Captain Jankowski had led into Minbari space.
Several Minbari cruisers were clustered around the colony, and they were ripping into it with the same ruthless efficiency that they had used upon the hapless Euripides. While two of the vessels were busy slicing through the colony's defenses as if they were not even there, a third targeted the reactor and blew the place to bits. At least those living there did not suffer for a particularly long time.
"A wake," I said once more, for emphasis, as the stunned assemblage watched the drama being played out before their eyes. And then I turned and walked out as the confused clamor began to grow behind me.
Over the next days and weeks, the video log of the Prometheus would be transformed from Jankowski's greatest moment to his greatest debacle. Those who had sung his praises would go back, review the material with a jaded eye, and find the captain's performance extremely wanting. His actions would be analyzed, second-guessed, reviewed and re-reviewed. A sequence of events that at one point had been viewed as a great military victory for Earth would come to be seen as the death knell of the Human race, sounded by a captain driven by ego and false pride. The name of Michael Jankowski would come to be synonymous with arrogance run amok.
Given time, they would crucify him.
* * *
The message went out to the Minbari, and was presented to the Grey Council. They were assembled there, in the blue
-gray light of their inner sanctum, as Delenn faced them and announced, "The Humans have offered us a sacrifice. They would send us the one directly responsible for the death of Dukhat... a man named Jankowski. He has been tried by the Humans in their military court, been stripped of rank and title. They offer this to us as a means of making amends."
"They are afraid," Morann replied, voice dripping with contempt. "They would shrink from the consequences of their actions. They are terrified of our power, of our might. They would toss one of their own to us in hopes of appeasing us, as if we were some sort of ancient gods to be bought off with a token."
"Perhaps they feel that we seek justice, and hope to provide it for us through the condemnation of the Human who slew Dukhat," Delenn said slowly.
"Justice?" Copelann drew back his hood and addressed the Council. "This isn't about justice. There is no reason to assume that this Earth captain is in any way unique or an aberration, and there is every reason to assume just the opposite! Furthermore, the Humans only offer us this accommodation because of fear. If we were a race weaker than they, or, for that matter, were they to encounter any new races who could not stand up to them, they would continue their barbaric ways unabated!" He slammed a fist into his palm. "Would you negotiate with a hive of stinging creatures if they offered to expel one of their company? No! You would burn the hive away, remove it as the danger that it is! And so must it be with Humanity!"
"Copelann is right!" Morann snarled. "We must stay our course! We must not turn away! In the name of Dukhat, we will ignore this latest plea from the Humans. Besides, it has gone beyond the mandates of the Grey Council. Our people thirst for revenge. They know the Humans for the murderous creatures that they are, and desire nothing more than their obliteration. Were we to turn away from the course we have set, it would tear our population apart."
