by Peter David
I wonder if the stars looked different to him this time. If he had any ... inkling of what was to happen.
His sister, Susan, came to believe that he did. For even as Ganya went in pursuit of the transport, Susan Ivanova was in the dorm room at university, sleeping, and her dreaming mind turned to Ganya. This was not unusual. Invariably, she imagined him in pitched battle, Starfuries exploding all around him, but Ganya safe and sound, protected by the earring, protected by her love for him, battling the Minbari and laughing at adversity.
But this time, in this dream, she felt no such things. Instead she simply felt. . . cold.
As for what Ganya felt, well, we have no true, subjective record. We do have logs of the conversations, the "chatter." We have the watch commander advising Ivanov, "She's got a big head start on you, Eagle Seven."
"Roger that," Ivanov said. "Hitting afterburners, maximum thrust."
An asteroid field, albeit it a not particularly hazardous one, lay in the transport's path. Or perhaps the transport was seeking shelter there, Ivanov reasoned. The engines roared around him as the Starfury pursued the vessel.
"She's accelerating," Ivanov informed the bridge of the Lexington as he prepared himself to avoid any collision. "Taking evasive action to stay with her."
On the bridge of the Lexington, Sterns instructed Sheridan, "Move us out slowly but keep up with them." With a small, lopsided grin, he added, "Maybe we've actually caught a break this time."
Sheridan hoped to his God that Sterns was right as he relayed the order to the rest of the fleet. The fleet, as one, moved to pursue the Starfury, which was, in turn, pursuing the Minbari transport.
Sterns was already one step ahead of the situation. He had no intention of destroying the Minbari transport if it could be at all avoided, and said as much to Sheridan. Sheridan looked a bit surprised as he said, "After all the ships of ours they've destroyed, you're not interested in returning the favor, sir?"
"We have to send a message, Commander," Sterns said reasonably. "We've shown the Minbari that we're capable of striking first. And we've shown them that we're capable of being destroyed. We've shown we can be merciless . . . there are rumors, I've heard, rumors of captured Minbari being tortured and killed. Now what we have to show them ... is that we can be compassionate. It is my intention to capture the transport, with all hands alive, if possible. With any luck, it leads to face-to-face discussions with the Minbari involving the return of prisoners. It's easy to destroy an enemy who has no face, no personality. To obliterate those you have demonized. If we can make the Minbari think of us as something other than simple targets ... we might be able to put an end to this madness."
"In your opinion," Sheridan noted with just a touch of irony. From what he had seen of the Minbari, he wasn't holding out much hope that any sort of olive branch extended to them would be greeted with anything other than pruning shears.
But Sterns merely tapped his armrest. "Granted, my opinion. But it's my chair. That means my opinion counts more than most."
Now it was Sheridan's turn to grin slightly, but then they heard the voice of Ganya Ivanov over the open channel. "Eagle Seven to Lexington, she's flamed out. Lying dead in space."
It appeared that Ganya was quite correct. The forward thrusters of the Minbari transport had fired once, as if the vessel were aware that it was being pursued, and then flamed out. The transport was tumbling end over end, out of control.
"Stand by, Eagle Seven, we're moving in," Sterns said. He turned to Sheridan. "Any further radio chatter?"
"Negative. She's running silent."
"Keep moving us in," Sterns said, with a trace of eagerness in his voice.
It was clear to Sheridan that Sterns's enthusiasm was growing. How much more merciful could one be than to spare a helpless foe? Indeed, how many helpless Earth ships had been wiped out by the Minbari when their pleas for mercy were ignored?
Nevertheless . ..
"Sir, I don't like it," Sheridan said, double-checking his readouts. "Just before the transport flamed out, it fired its forward thrusters, cutting acceleration down to almost nothing. If I were running from the enemy, engines failing, I'd try to keep my inertia going on the off chance I could get away instead of just lying there, waiting to be caught."
"Maybe he wants to be captured alive, rather than take his chances getting killed in that asteroid field."
Thinking out loud, Sheridan countered, "And maybe they want us at a precise, predetermined location." And then a terrible thought struck him. "Their jump engines are a lot more precise than ours, Captain. They can target an area of less than a hundred yards. If they jumped into the middle of us-"
Sterns's eyes went wide. "Holy . . ." he whispered. Snapping on the communications console, he barked, "This is fleet command, all ships, break off, I repeat, break-"
And suddenly the entire vessel lurched from an energy wave of tremendous proportions.
Dead center of the fleet, right in the middle, a jump point formed. The jump point itself released so much energy that it demolished two of the Earthforce destroyers immediately. Sheridan looked away as the vessels became nothing more than two massive fireballs, quickly snuffed out in the vacuum of space. A third destroyer was severely damaged by the impact, and then a massive Minbari war cruiser roared out of hyperspace, blasting away.
What emerged looked like a gigantic, ribbed whale with long, sweeping fins. This was, indeed, the war cruiser that had been rumored to exist. Its name was the Drala Fi, translated as the Black Star, and it was the pride of the Minbari fleet. The Minbari were quite certain that, against the Black Star, no vessel stood a chance. Based on the Black Star's record up to that time-and considering the immediate progress of the newly joined battle-there was no reason to think otherwise.
The initial fire struck the Lexington amidships, blasting out a chunk of the vessel, rocking it once more. Bulkheads caved inward, barely holding together. Launch bays one through eight erupted in flame as the Starfury fighters- prepped to fly into battle-never had a chance. The ships exploded, transforming the interior of the bays into an inferno, and it was all that the emergency crews could do to prevent the disaster from encompassing the whole of the cruiser.
Not that the rest of the Lexington was trouble-free. Systems went down all over, and mere seconds after the engagement had begun, the Lexington -the fleet leader -was hanging dead in space while other ships erupted in mushrooms of flame all around it.
It had all happened so quickly that it had barely had time to register on Ganya Ivanov. Part of him was still waiting for the rest of the Starfuries to come barreling out of the Lexington, to leap into pitched battle against the Minbari cruiser that had appeared from nowhere, dropped into their midst, and proceeded to tear the fleet to pieces. And just as his mind was beginning to accept the full horror of the situation, the engines on the Minbari transport flared to life. The decoy whipped around with speed that Ivanov would never have credited, and opened fire on the Starfury.
Many, many light-years away, Susan Ivanova awoke from her dream, sat upright drenched in sweat and screaming a single word. That word was "No!" and we can only assume that it was the final word uttered by her brother as his Starfury was blown to pieces by the Minbari transport.
Two of the Humans' remaining mobile destroyers tried to break and run, any stomach for combat having been completely lost. The Black Star's weaponry lashed out, cutting one of the destroyers to ribbons and zeroing in on the second. In the meantime the Lexington simply hung there, apparently-and effectively-helpless.
On the now darkened bridge, Sheridan coughed violently, trying to wipe his eyes clear and see through the smoke. Flickering consoles sent bizarre colors and shapes dancing across his face. His instinct was to try to get over to the captain, but if he unstrapped from his station, all he would wind up doing would be floating helpless in zero gravity. So he shouted into what was essentially blindness, "Primary systems hit! Weapons and jump engines are down! Only navigational thr
usters still functioning! Orders?" Nothing but silence, a silence as dead as space, came back to him. He called again, "Captain? Or-"
But he never got out the remainder of the word. For after a few moments, the smoke had cleared ever so slightly, and what he saw stunned him to the pit of his stomach.
A support beam had been ripped free from the ceiling over and had plowed through where Sterns had been sitting. And make no mistake, Sterns was still there . . . but only in spirit, not in body. In terms of body, there was not much of anything left. All Sheridan was able to make out was a trickle of blood flowing from beneath the fallen pylon, turning to red globules that began to float around the bridge. The falling debris had more or less obliterated the ship's captain.
John Sheridan finally had a command of his own. If he was looking for orders, he had to look nowhere but to himself. Unfortunately, all he could muster for the first few moments of his command was a shocked silence and a feeling of overwhelming helplessness.
He stopped thinking. Instead he began to proceed entirely on instinct. There were rules, procedures to handle virtually any situation, even one as calamitous as this. Sheridan ran through them in his mind.
A ship needs two things to win a battle: movement and weapons. One can be the most masterly tactician in the universe, but if one is stationary and has no offensive capability, one will not survive. It is that simple.
Movement. Weapons. Both of those requirements echoed in Sheridan's mind as he tapped his console and prayed that the communications links were still functioning... and that there was anyone still alive belowdecks to respond to him. "Bridge to engine room ... do we have power yet?"
"Negative, sir," came a voice from the engine room. Sheridan immediately knew it was not the voice of the engineer. If he remembered correctly, it was the voice of Second Assistant Engineer Staite. He didn't even want to think about what the current status of everyone above Staite might be.
Suddenly the bridge was rocked by a small asteroid. The Lexington at that point had no maneuverability at all with which to deal with the asteroids, and the current situation of helplessness was not conducive to prolonged life. "Engine room, if we're hit by many more of those asteroids, we'll breach the hull and we'll all die. Is anyone there unclear on that particular concept?"
"No, sir," Staite said.
'Then keep working." In the meantime, his thoughts were racing. If one can't move, find someone who can. "Communications," he said briskly.
"Online," came Heuser over the comm channel.
"Can you contact Earth, send a distress signal?"
"It's possible," Heuser said, not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the likelihood. "But sir, that Minbari cruiser only left because it figured we were dead. If we send out a distress signal, it'll come back and finish the job."
"And if we sit here and do nothing, we're just as dead"
"Roger that, sir," Heuser said with what sounded like a sigh.
Slowly Sheridan turned to face the soot-covered faces of the crew -no, his crew now. They looked battered. Defeated. Frightened.
And something within Sheridan refused to break, refused to give in. This was the single greatest test of his life, and his spirit seemed to rise above it. To have no doubt that somehow, somehow, they would triumph.
Any enemy can be defeated. Find the way. Find the way . . . now. Now, damn it, now.
He spoke before he had fully formed his plan . . . before he even really knew what he was going to say. "Firing control, do we have any tactical nukes left?"
The voice of Azizi in firing control came back almost immediately. "Yes, sir. Three two-megaton warheads, with proximity fuses."
"All right," Sheridan said. His impulse was to rush, but something made him speak slowly, calmly, as if time were entirely on their side. "All right. I'm authorizing use of the tactical nukes. Firing control, remove the warheads and get them down to . . ." He glanced at the consoles to see what was left. "Launch bay nine, ASAP. Communications, stand by to broadcast distress signal, but not until I give the order."
"Aye, sir."
He took a breath. Everything was in place, the plan that he had cobbled together ready to be initiated. He paused a moment, and then said to the bridge crew, "I would be less than honest if I said I was sure this was going to work. It might. And it might not. We might very well get blown up right alongside the enemy. But at least we'll have a fighting chance of taking them with us. Unless anyone has a better idea...?"
That last comment was said with a sense of hopefulness. But no response, no suggestion came. Instead there was an almost uniform shaking of heads.
"Nuts," Sheridan said, clearly disappointed. He sighed. "All right, then we'll stick with my plan." Sounding surprisingly jaunty, he added, "Hell, I didn't want to live forever anyway."
The next minutes were the most tense of Sheridan's life. Every passing second he expected the Minbari war cruiser to turn its attention back to the Lexington. But the Minbari did not seem to notice the EVA-suited figures who had dropped out of launch bay nine, proceeding to the nearby asteroids. Whether it was because the asteroids were interfering with the Minbari sensors, or whether the vast war cruiser was simply interested in pursuing those few members of the fleet who had any apparent fight left in them, it was impossible to know for sure. All Sheridan knew was that he felt as if he were chewing his fingernails down to nothing, figuratively speaking, feeling horribly exposed until he finally heard the EVA team leader make an announcement.
"Nukes in place. Heading back for the barn."
Sheridan could barely contain the relief in his voice as he said, "Roger that." This time when another asteroid struck the Lexington, he didn't curse it as he had the others. The asteroids, at least for the moment, were no longer the enemy. Instead they were the only ally that the beleaguered destroyer had. "All right, send the distress signal. Just hope we don't have to wait too long. I don't know how much more of this we can take."
There was a brief moment of silence, and then Lieutenant Heuser announced from his station, "Looks like you're going to get your wish. We've got an echo on approach vector. Might be them. Coming into range now."
The screen flickered, the transmission extremely unsteady and fitted with static. Nonetheless, Sheridan was able to make out the slow, ominous approach of the Minbari cruiser. The Black Star moved toward the Lexington with utter confidence. After all, an Earth ship at peak condition posed no threat to the Black Star. So what possible problem could so damaged a vessel as the Lexington give them?
Sheridan did not like the way the approach was going as he noticed the vulnerability of his ship. He tapped his comm channel and said, "Bridge to navigation. The enemy has a clear shot. Fire docking thrusters, get us behind one of those asteroids. Let 'em think we're trying to evade." As much to himself as to the nav station, he continued, "They want to finish the job, let them come to us. If we don't get them into the right position, we're dead."
The Lexington did as its new captain ordered, maneuvering with what little ability it had left and putting an asteroid between itself and the Black Star. Seeing it as the last, desperate act of a soon-to-be-dead Earth ship, the Black Star casually adjusted its source to angle around. Sheridan came to the realization that he wasn't breathing as his finger hovered above the firing button. "Here we go. A little closer..." he said softly, and took a brief moment to glance at the picture of Anna.
"Sir, she's locking on!"
Too soon, a voice screamed in Sheridan's head. "A little more," he said with growing urgency, as if ordering the Minbari vessel to stop targeting the Lexington.
"Confirmed weapons lock! Energy spike! She's ready to fire!"
He'd run out of time, and the Minbari cruiser was still not in perfect position, but he had no choice. "Now!" he shouted, and stabbed down on the control.
The nuke nearest the enemy detonated just as the Minbari cruiser was about to fire on them. It shredded a section of the Black Star, completely shocking those within who
had felt, until that moment, impervious to harm from the Humans. The Black Star quickly angled off, either to try to get a shot from a distance, or perhaps simply deciding that one more destroyer was not worth the risk.
"She's out of range of nuke two," Sheridan was informed. "Only one left."
But Sheridan was tracking the direction of the Minbari cruiser, saw where it was heading, and smiled grimly to himself. "That's all we need," he murmured as he saw the cruiser's position intersect perfectly with the third nuke's hidden position. "See you in hell."
He slammed down on the button.
The nuclear warhead is one of the Humans' more efficient weapons. They first tested it on themselves, obliterating several entire cities. The intervening centuries since the weapon's first use had not dimmed its effectiveness, as the Black Star proved when it blew apart. It was, from all accounts, a most impressive display and took-by the standards of such things-quite some time as one section after another after another of the ship erupted.
The shock waves smashed asteroids together, and the asteroids in turn pounded against the Lexington. This might have served to destroy the ship, but instead it provided the Lexington's salvation as the impact sent the vessel spiraling away from the progressive, explosive death of the Minbari cruiser.
When the Black Star's mighty engines went up, the annihilation of the vessel accelerated, and within a few minutes there was nothing left to mark that the Black Star had ever been there except for a few dying embers trailing off into the darkness.
It was the single greatest-actually, the only-victory that the Humans had had against the Minbari. And the Minbari, for their part, gave a name to Sheridan. A name they spoke privately in angry whispers and infuriated bellowing, as howls went out for blood in revenge for all those lost upon the former pride of the Minbari fleet.
And that name was . . . "Starkiller."
