by Peter David
Sheridan had not had a great deal of interaction with Narns in his career, but naturally he was able to recognize one on sight. This is what occurred when he strode into Lefcourt's office and a Narn who had been seated in a chair opposite Lefcourt's desk rose to greet him. "Commander Sheridan, this is G'Kar," Lefcourt informed him. "He's here on behalf of the Narn regime, which has agreed to sell us weapons to help equalize the battle."
"Commander," G'Kar said, bowing slightly, and Sheridan matched the gesture.
"He's here to make arrangements for a covert mission," Lefcourt continued. "A Narn cruiser will transport you to one of our abandoned listening posts in Sector 919 where, in theory, you will rendezvous with a representative of the Minbari."
Sheridan had not been entirely sure of what to expect of this mysterious mission, but that was most certainly not among his guesses. In point of fact, he could not quite believe what had been said, and his incredulous look wasn't lost on Lefcourt. You see, the "Starkiller" was just paranoid enough to wonder if this peace mission might have been put into motion in order to give up the destroyer of the Black Star, as a means of placating the infuriated Minbari. Still, he knew he had to put that thought out of his head.
As if reading his mind, Lefcourt amended, "Note that I said 'in theory.' We've heard that certain elements of their government want a meeting, to discuss finding a way out of this war that doesn't involve the annihilation of Earth."
"Most progressive of them," G'Kar commented. It seemed to Sheridan that G'Kar was none too thrilled about the proposition, and he realized that G'Kar was in no better a situation than his own. If a peace were made, then the Narns would lose out on a potentially large sale, to say nothing of having missed the opportunity to make it look as if the Centauri had been dealing weapons to an enemy of the Minbari. And not to mention the fact that he was putting his own neck on the line, for if this were, in fact, a trap, then the Minbari might very well be laying it for the Narn who arranged to sell the weapons.
If Sheridan had to guess, he would have said that, whatever arrangements G'Kar was making, he was likely going to keep himself as far in the background as possible and nowhere near the actual site of the meet.
"It could also be a trick," Lefcourt acknowledged. "We want you to make contact because you've shown you can handle yourself against them if things get hot. Your record on first-contact protocol is outstanding."
"And I'm expendable," Sheridan added ruefully.
Lefcourt opened his mouth a moment as if prepared to debate the notion, but then closed it again. He realized it was pointless to discuss that aspect because, in point of fact, Sheridan was right, and all the discussion in the galaxy wasn't going to change it. "Once we know it's safe and they're serious, we'll send in the negotiators."
"Anyone else on my team?" asked Sheridan.
"Just one."
He went to the door of his office and opened it. Security guards escorted in a somewhat irritated-looking young man who was introduced to Sheridan as Dr. Stephen Franklin. It was painfully obvious to Sheridan that neither Lefcourt nor Franklin seemed particularly enthused about seeing each other. "Dr. Franklin," Lefcourt said slowly, with what sounded like irony in his voice, "had a fair amount of physical contact with the Minbari before the war. He can verify that these individuals are who they say they are, and be on hand in case things go badly."
"You volunteered?" Sheridan asked, glancing at the security guards and knowing the answer to the question before he asked it.
"I didn't have that much of a choice," Franklin replied. "It's the only way they'll let me out of the stockade." He sighed and shook his head. "It's a long story."
They had a lengthy trip ahead of them, and Sheridan reasoned that-were Franklin interested in telling that stosy- there would be plenty of time to hear it. "What about a translator?" he asked.
"We've been told that your contact has studied your language," G'Kar interjected. "Just in case, I will go along, since I am fluent in Minbari and English."
So G'Kar was going to accompany them. This surprised Sheridan to no end. "It's going to be dangerous," Sheridan pointed out.
G'Kar shrugged. "Perhaps. But if all goes well, you will owe us a great debt. And debts can be very profitable."
"I don't have to tell you how important this mission is, Commander," Lefcourt said, making no attempt to keep the gravity from his voice. "We're still only a few months into the war. There are millions of lives at risk in the inner colonies, then here in the home system. This has to go well, John. There's no other choice."
"And if the only way out is for Earth to surrender?"
Lefcourt's back straightened as he said, "Officially, that's up to the negotiators. Those are my orders. Unofficially ..." He paused, and when he spoke next, it was without the usual air of bombast that accompanied his pronouncements. "We're losing this war, John. And if the only way the Human race can survive is to surrender . . . then we'll surrender."
It was a pronouncement that was staggering to Sheridan. Keep in mind that this was a Human who had just been feted with a hero's welcome after providing what was considered to be the great triumph of the war. To follow up such a victory with talk of surrender, well, it was very difficult for him.
But in his heart, he knew that Lefcourt was speaking truly. And he further knew that he was, at that particular point in time, quite possibly the last, best hope for peace.
* * *
I mentioned to you earlier one of G'Kar's eager lieutenants. I will now provide you his name, which was G'Mak. G'Mak was a crafty and quick-thinking individual, hovering just inside G'Kar's inner circle of confidants.
It was not long after the meeting between G'Kar and Sheridan that G'Mak returned to his quarters, his thoughts in a turmoil. G'Kar's plan to aid the Humans in a meeting with the Minbari left him with a throbbing feeling of dull anger. G'Mak played a pivotal role in arranging the acquisition of weapons and the clandestine payment for same. Everything had been in place, when G'Kar had abruptly informed G'Mak that the deal was on hold. That, indeed, matters seemed to be going in another direction. When G'Mak complained of the lost revenue, G'Kar spoke of debts to be called upon down the line.
G'Mak and G'Kar had always nicely complemented each other, for G'Kar always strove (with varying degrees of success) to plan for the grand scheme of things, while G'Mak concentrated instead on smaller matters. There were times when those different visions conflicted with each other, and now was definitely one of those times.
So frustrated was the normally alert G'Mak that he did not even realize he had someone waiting for him in his quarters, at least until I cleared my throat. Then he jumped, startled, and said, "Mollari! What. .. what are you-!"
"Relax," I said calmly, rising from my seat. "No one saw me come here."
"If they did , . ." He tried to find the words to describe what an awful eventuality that would be.
"No . . . one . . . did." Though supremely calm, I had an air of joviality ab out me, which very likely put him on his guard. That was most wise of him. "So, G'Mak, is there anything you wish to tell me about?"
His eyes narrowed as he said, "Not at the moment, Mollari, no. Matters are ... proceeding as we discussed."
"Is that a fact?"
He nodded.
"How very interesting," I commented. "You see, that is not what I hear. What I hear, through my own resources, is that there is a meeting planned between the Humans and the Narn. That the final arrangements are being made for an arms shipment. I would like to know the when and the where."
My resources, of course, were the words of Sonovar of the Minbari. Now word was filtering through the various castes of some sort of meeting with the Humans and the Narn, and there were even whispers that a Minbari was involved. Possibly a traitor to the Great Cause.
This was as close as the rumors could come to pinpoint Lenonn's involvement, for he had been very thorough in maintaining the cap of secrecy. That there was a peace initiative involved was unknown,
even to Sonovar . . . and even to me.
"Look, Mollari," G'Mak began to say.
But I waved off his words as if they were of only the mildest interest to me. "I know what you are going to say," I said, interrupting him. "It is one thing to provide me with information as to your government's activities, in hopes of building your own power base and an alliance with the Centauri. You are most wise, G'Mak. At the moment, Narn has its freedom. But the future may bring any number of possibilities, eh?"
Frankly, I had no real belief that G'Mak's concerns would ever amount to anything. Even at that time, the "great Centauri empire" was a joke, a... a shadow... of its former self. G'Mak's reasons for his actions seemed to me needlessly involved. But under circumstances like those, one learns not to question someone who is making himself useful.
"But it is quite another thing " I continued, "to provide me with information that may very well lead to the certain death of one of your own-what's his name again? G'Gar?"
"G'Kar," he corrected.
"Ah, yes," I said, nodding. I had never met G'Kar before. That delightful moment was to occur at a later time.
I took a step closer and said, "G'Mak, you owe him nothing. In matters such as these, it is survival of the fittest. G'Kar's masterminding a weapons sale to the Humans- a race that is surely doomed-and that can only bode ill for the Narn. You know this, for you know that I have informed the Minbari that the Centauri have nothing to do with the transaction. So G'Kar's little attempt at misdirection is doomed to failure, and only the Narn will be left to answer for the actions of a handful of individuals. And if you think the Minbari will be any more merciful to your people than they have been to the Humans, then you are sadly mistaken."
Slowly G'Mak nodded, clearly considering my words. But then he asked a question in such an idle, casual manner that I did not at all perceive the truth behind the words. "Tell me," he asked. "What if the Minbari were interested in a peace initiative?"
"What?" I said, making no attempt to hide my disbelief that the question could even be posed.
"What if it were not a weapons negotiation? If, instead, it were a peace negotiation-?"
I did not realize it at the time, you understand, but it was the single most important question that had ever been posed to me. And I, fool that I was, did not recognize it.
"A peace negotiation is an impossibility," I said flatly. "You do not speak directly to the Minbari, G'Mak. I do. I have my contacts, my sources, and believe me when I tell you, G'Mak, there is no mercy in them. No compassion. The Humans committed a dreadful transgression. I have not gone into detail with the Humans, describing their crimes to them, for I have no desire to let them know the depth of my connections with the Minbari. If I did, then for all I know, they would toss me into one of their delightful little holding cells until such time that I opt to tell them everything I know.
"I have no desire to spend any part of my life in such inhospitable surroundings if it can be at all avoided, and I assure you, G'Mak, avoid it I will. But I will tell you, my dear G'Mak, that my contacts have been very specific on this point. Peace is an impossibility. G'Kar is either being misled, in which case he is too stupid to be allowed to live. Or else he is lying to you, which means he does not trust you . . . which further means that he suspects you to be a traitor to him."
G'Mak looked rather shaken at this. I cannot say that I blame him. Narns are, by and large, a rather barbaric and savage race. One does not wish to have a Narn angry at one, if one can help it.
I know that I didn't.
For I shall tell you something that I have only told a handful of people: I had, by that time, had a dream. A premonition, if you will. I had dreamt that I was an old man, very old... much as I am now. And I was struggling with a Narn, who stared down at me with a single gleaming red eye and a snarl of pure animal fury upon his spotted face. He had his hands upon my throat and he . .. he . ..
Ah. I have upset you. Pardon. Please excuse an old man and his insensitivity. I have lived with this vision for so long that it no longer has any impact on me, and so I neglect the effect that it might have on others.
The dream does have a relation to the rest of the story, but I shall not discuss it now. Let us minimize it, move on so that we do not dwell upon it excessively, and so make matters overly morbid.
So...
G'Mak looked none too happy over the two possibilities that I had suggested to him. Pressing my advantage, I leaned forward and told him, "You will be doing yourself a favor, G'Mak. Indeed, you may well be doing the entire Narn homeworld a favor. You do not need either a liar or a fool in a position of power, and I regret to say that in G'Kar you apparently have both. It is tragic, but there it is. Now, you have the option of being a hero, G'Mak. Will you take that option? Will you be the hero that Narn needs and that I know you can be?"
Very, very slowly, G'Mak nodded again.
And he told me exactly what I wanted to know.
Understand, my friends, the concept of "orders." That is something you do not yet understand. You children, you think to go to bed early is an order. To clean up your room is an order. The hard orders . . . those are the ones you discover later. The order to leave your friends on the battlefield. The order to fire on the weak and the powerless. My orders . ..
I'm sorry. What? Did I . . . nod off in mid-sentence? My apologies. That has been happening more and more frequently of late. Sooner or later it will stop happening. Sooner rather than later, I think.
Yes, my orders were to prevent the Narns from using the war to establish closer ties to the Humans. In retrospect, these instructions were samples of the pure mindlessness inherent in the mandates handed me from above. The Humans were doomed to extinction in any event. What matter if the Narns had close ties or distant ties? Either way Earth was destined to be but a pile of ash. Let the Narns become friends with the Humans. In the long run, the only advantage such an alliance seemed capable of producing was that the gray-white remains of Humanity might make convenient fertilizer and actually encourage the growth of greenery upon the rather bleak Narn homeworld.
Look at me, my friends. I am old and fragile. Put aside my title for a moment, my symbols of office. I am just a man: no more, no less. Hearts pumping, albeit with some artificial aid. Flesh and blood. Given to as much mortal fallibility as anyone else. I can issue the pronouncements I wish, and people can and will obey them. But that doesn't necessarily make them, or me, right. I am simply in charge. And the greatest asset that someone in my position can have is someone at his right hand to tell him that he is wrong.
I have one such. Or at least... I had. But I have not seen him for some time.
My orders regarding the Narns and the Humans were wrong. But there was no one to let my superiors know that . . . including me, for my antipathy toward the Narns was second to none. Perhaps that antipathy colored my view of the Narn aid in the peace initiative. I rejected the notion that the Narn were involved in anything other than weapons trade because I was too accustomed to thinking of the Narn in a warlike manner.
What I did not know or understand is that G'Kar was a man of peace.
I would like to think that I could be forgiven this. You see, G'Kar did not know it at the time himself. He felt the need to rationalize his involvement by putting it in terms of potential long-term gain. The time that he spent on Babylon 5 became a great spiritual journey and awakening for him. I envy him that.
Damn him ... I envy him.
As I said, I would like to think that I could be forgiven this misunderstanding on my part. But that is wishful thinking. I cannot expect anyone to forgive me when I cannot forgive myself.
I did not know that it was to be an attempt to end the war. Didn't know because of the limits of my orders, the limits of my own worldview, and the limits that I had placed upon the Narns, which were a dark reflection of my own limitations.
And so I gave the order to intercept them. To stop their mission from succeeding. Great Maker forgive me ...
... for I doubt I will ever forgive myself.
~ chapter 13 ~
The world did not even have a real name.
It was that much of a backwater, out-of-the-way planet. The Minbari, the Centauri, the Humans, and the Narns all had mentions of the planet on their starcharts, but each called it something different, each employing only a designation to identify the planet's location in space. No one thought anything of it, which is what made it the ideal place for a quiet little meeting that no one was supposed to know about.
Someone had attempted to colonize it at some point. . . the Drazi, I believe. But a meteor strike had completely disrupted the world's ecosystem, turning it from a reasonably inhospitable world to a place that you would not send your most hated ex-wife to. And I would be familiar with this concept, having more than my share of hated ex-wives.
To this world came Sheridan, Franklin, and G'Kar.
Their destination was a small, stark bunker, one of the few remaining structures from the abortive Drazi colonization. Small whirlwinds kicked up the ground around them as they made their way to the structure. Sheridan squinted against the intensity of the wind and, one or two times, felt as if the gale was going to lift him up and carry him away. He placed his hand on his jacket and felt the slight crispness of a picture against his chest. It was the picture of Anna, which he now carried with him at all times. He drew comfort from it for no reason that he could readily discern.
They reached the bunker and Sheridan tried the door. He couldn't budge it. This was just wonderful; a peace initiative upon which the existence of an entire race would hinge, and they couldn't even get into the designated meeting place.
