0-In the Beginning

by Peter David

  G'Kar came up from behind, touched Sheridan on the shoulder, and gestured for him to step aside. Sheridan did so and G'Kar put his fairly impressive muscle into it, pulling with grim-faced, unyielding pressure. Slowly the long-unused door, held shut through a combination of rust and the steady gusting of the wind, opened outward. Sheridan and Franklin moved quickly through the doorway as G'Kar kept it open for them, and then he stepped through as well, allowing the wind to slam the door shut behind them.

  "Just a sec," Sheridan told them. "Let me find the power supply. Just hope the solar batteries are still working."

  He glanced around the nearly total darkness of the unpromising-looking bunker and, stepping over debris littering the floor, found a button on the wall. Couldn't be that easy, he thought, even as he pushed it. He had a flash of apprehension; with his luck, he'd just pushed an emergency self-destruct button that was going to obliterate the entire bunker and, very likely, the whole planet.

  Instead the lights around him flickered for a moment and then came on. A moment later there was the slow sound of a motor wheezing to life, and Sheridan sensed the rush of air as the air processors started up.

  Sheridan noticed that the outer door was starting to rock back and forth. Apparently the wind had shifted and the door, having been loosened by G'Kar, was now providing only limited protection from the elements outside. "Dr. Franklin, check the outer door. See if we can secure this place."

  Franklin nodded as G'Kar approached Sheridan. He had done much reading up on Sheridan, studied his career, and was most impressed with the resourcefulness that Sheridan had displayed in the battle against the Black Star. Much of the trip had passed in silence as Sheridan, lost in thought, had mentally prepared himself for the importance of what they were about to face. Now G'Kar said, "You know, Commander, if we are unable to resolve this war of yours, there is always a place for someone like you among our people. We could arrange a safe haven for you, a few others . .."

  Sheridan shook his head. "Thanks, but if my world goes, I'm going with it."

  On one level, G'Kar very likely admired the single-mindedness of this attitude. But the Narn could have used someone like Sheridan. He was adaptable and had a fine military mind. And the Narn were always looking ahead to military-oriented possibilities. But Sheridan seemed to have made up his mind, and G'Kar simply shrugged. "A waste of material. Most unfortunate."

  The door sprang open behind them, and G'Kar turned. Dr. Franklin was starkly silhouetted in the glare from outside. "Ah, good, Doctor, I was just telling your associate ..."

  And then he stopped, his voice catching slightly in his throat, for he came to the realization that Dr. Franklin's hands were raised.

  The reason for this was quite simple: Franklin was being herded by someone. It did not take a great deal of effort to determine just who that someone might be.

  A Minbari entered the room.

  Sheridan had seen the few existing photographs of the Minbari, had a basic knowledge of what they looked like. But that was very different from being face-to-face with one . . . particularly when that one had a gun leveled at them. And it was also different considering that there was something about this Minbari in particular.

  There was a small stunt that Sheridan's father had taught him many years ago, a means of making eye contact when one is in a situation where it is necessary to firmly establish strength of character and a handle on the proceedings. Rather than simply look straight into the eyes of the individual you are meeting, subtly focus the entirety of your gaze upon his right eye only. Usually the subject will not have the slightest idea that that is what you're doing. But- on a subconscious level-he will sense your vigor and vitality. Perhaps he will even be quicker to accede to whatever it is you have on your mind.

  Sheridan did so at that point. He focused the whole of his concentration upon the right eye of the Minbari.

  The Minbari returned his gaze levelly, impassively.

  And Sheridan felt completely disconcerted. For it brought to mind as well a very common Human saying: The eyes are the window to the soul. And Sheridan could not help but feel that he was encountering a very, very old soul indeed. He was not daunted, but he felt a sense of very quiet awe.

  The Minbari, for his part, seemed intrigued by whatever it was he saw in Sheridan's eyes. Perhaps the Minbari had the same saying. Very slowly he lowered his gun, and Sheridan let out a soft sigh . . . but not one, he hoped, that was audible to the Minbari.

  Seeing that the Humans and Narn were breathing without any artificial aid, the newcomer slowly removed his own breather.

  It was immediately clear to Sheridan, as soon as the Minbari spoke, that he was still struggling with English. Nonetheless, Sheridan was mightily impressed. It had been only a short while since the Minbari had first encountered Humans, and Sheridan was reasonably certain that it would take him a hell of a lot longer than that to become even remotely conversant in the Minbari tongue.

  "A . . . precaution only," the Minbari said, indicating his gun. He tapped his chest once and said, "Lenonn. You . . . Sheridan?"

  "Yes," Sheridan said, speaking slowly and distinctly. Things were at a delicate enough stage as it was. The last thing Sheridan, or the entire Human race, needed was for Sheridan to slur his words, have this Lenonn misunderstand and think he'd been insulted, and incinerate the bearers of peace where they stood. "I didn't know you'd been told who was coming."

  "We know more than you think," Lenonn replied. He seemed to be speaking with mounting confidence, as if his being able to comprehend what Sheridan said bolstered his faith in his ability to communicate. Then his face darkened. "And I know what you did to the . . ." He paused, unsure of the translation, and turned to G'Kar. "Drala Fi."

  "The Black Star," G'Kar said to Sheridan.

  "Sheridan ... the Starkiller, you are called."

  Sheridan stiffened, the tension in the room seeming to crackle. Granted, Lenonn had described the weapon as a "precaution only," but suddenly Sheridan began to wonder ... a precaution against what? Against the possibility that Sheridan might try to run because Lenonn was about to exact vengeance for the Minbari who had been blasted to free-floating nuclear-charged atoms? Sheridan abruptly sensed that he was already being presented with what could be a major sticking point, or turning point, in the negotiations. Should he apologize? Plead for mercy, for understanding? Should he say that he panicked, acted rashly? Perhaps even offer up his life in exchange for those he had taken?

  Perhaps that was what the Minbari were looking for: someone to sacrifice himself. Someone upon whom all the blame could be placed, whether warranted or not.

  There are some Earth cultures which have a person who is known as a "Sin-Eater." When a Human dies, fruits or foodstuffs representing the sins of the deceased are laid out about him. And the Sin-Eater, a societal pariah by definition, comes and consumes the food, taking the sins of the deceased to himself. That way the dearly departed is free to pass on to heaven or to the next life or wherever, untouched and unmarked by whatever wrongs he has committed in his life.

  Was that what the Minbari wanted, then? Someone to metaphorically devour the sins of all, and then offer himself up, so that humanity could be cleansed of wrongdoing and be allowed to live?

  Or perhaps they just wanted to see a human grovel, face-to-face. Perhaps the pleas of the thousands that the Minbari had slaughtered, their cries for mercy, were insufficient.

  Perhaps ...

  Perhaps. ..

  Perhaps . ..

  All of this went through Sheridan's mind in far less time than it takes me to tell you. To be specific, it was little more than an instant, and in that instant Sheridan determined that, if he was to die, he was going to remain true to himself through to the end.

  "We did exactly what they would have done to us," he shot back. "We just did it first."

  Franklin looked rather nervously at Sheridan, feeling that perhaps a more mollifying response might have been in order. And G'Kar simply
glanced at him as if to say, Bravely put. At least you'll die with your pride intact.

  With all of those dynamics going on, it was little wonder that Sheridan was surprised as Lenonn replied, "I know. It was necessary." Franklin visibly relaxed. Sheridan kept his breathing slow and steady, and G'Kar . . . well, G'Kar might have been carved from marble for all the expression he showed. He seemed emotionally separated from the moment, as if he could not care less how any of it played out, or even if his own life were forfeit as a result of his involvement with the Humans.

  "But I also know many . . . that many of my people," continued Lenonn grimly, "will not. . .forget." He paused, letting that sink in.

  Years later, in recounting the incident, Sheridan told me that he could almost relate to what Lenonn had said. The Humans apparently memorialized some of their greatest defeats in order to spur them on in battle. Remember the Alamo! would be the cry. Remember the Maine! Remember Pearl Harbor! Somewhere, Sheridan realized, Minbari were shouting, "Remember the Black Star!" as a means of inciting each other to battle and glory. And he, Sheridan, was responsible for that. He was no different from those who had destroyed the Alamo and the Maine -whatever those were -or Pearl Harbor ... whoever she was.

  After a brief time, Lenonn continued, "I speak to you ... for them. That we may find a way to . . . Lizenn?" he said softly to himself. G'Kar started to prompt him, but Lenonn quickly remembered the proper word. ". . . ah, to resolve this before more of your kind ... are killed. We . . ."

  There was a sharp electronic beep. The sound was so unexpected in the tense air that Sheridan jumped slightly. It was G'Kar's comm link, and he quickly toggled it. For the first time, Sheridan saw nervousness appear on G'Kar's face. The Narn vessel was under specific orders not to contact him unless it was an extreme emergency, and this was precisely the sort of situation that even the stoic G'Kar did not desire to see turn into an extreme emergency. "Yes?"

  "G'Kar!" came the alarmed voice of the ship's captain, N'Fal. "G'Kar! A ship is coming through the gate!"

  Franklin glanced at Lenonn, hoping for a particular answer that he had a sick feeling he wasn't going to receive. "Yours?" he asked.

  Sure enough, Lenonn didn't say what Franklin wanted to hear. Instead he shook his head and said, "No."

  "Do you have a reading on it?" G'Kar asked N'Fal.

  Credit Centauri vessels: We are most efficient when it comes to matters of destruction. The Centauri cruiser charged through the jump gate and leaped into normal space, firing as it went. The Narn cruiser never had a chance as our cruiser ripped into it, blasting the helpless vessel apart before the Narns had a chance to offer even the most token resistance. Even as G'Kar, in frustration, shouted into his communications device for a response from N'Fal, N'Fal himself was scattered to the solar winds, along with his ship and crew.

  "N'Fal! N'Fal, can you hear me?" G'Kar called.

  But while N'Fal was beyond hearing, the Centauri in the vessel above most certainly were not. They picked up G'Kar's desperate summons and, in a burst of interstellar brotherly harmony, tracked it back to its source. Then they let fly with their missiles.

  The missiles thudded to the planet's surface, one after another, rocking the ground beneath them and getting progressively nearer with terrifying speed. Sheridan knew that there was nowhere to run to, no shelter to be sought. The only thing that was going to save them was blind luck, and it was what Sheridan was going to have to depend on. "Hit the deck!" he shouted, and he turned to try to grab Lenonn and drag him down to something vaguely approximating safety.

  But the roof was falling in on them, literally, and far too quickly. Sheridan was only a few feet away from Lenonn, his hand outstretched. And he knew, beyond any question, that this was a turning point in the war, right then, tight there. Until moments before, the Minbari had been the implacable enemy. Yet at that instant, with potential doom thundering all around them, Sheridan had one thought and one thought only: He himself was expendable, but this Minbari they were facing, this Lenonn ... he was special. He was brave. He was clearly going against the desire and mind-set of his entire people by secretly pursuing a peace initiative, and if anything happened to him-anything- then the peace initiative was as good as dead.

  And so was the human race.

  Lenonn staggered, fell, and Sheridan lunged forward with the intention of throwing himself over Lenonn to try to protect him from the falling debris. For all he knew, it would do no good. He and the Minbari would be found together, an almost unrecognizable, pulped mixture of skin, bones, blood, and sinew. Nonetheless, he had to try.

  Unfortunately, he was not given the opportunity.

  A direct hit upon the bunker smashed in the ceiling, and a hail of debris drove a wedge between Sheridan and Lenonn. Sheridan felt cement collapse down upon him. Something snapped in his upper chest ... a rib, he suspected, perhaps two, and the pain drove him to the ground. Dirt and dust billowed up all around him. And still he stretched out a hand, his body and heart refusing to acknowledge what his mind already knew: that this was a most hopeless cause. Perhaps it was because Sheridan had been taught by his father, what seemed a lifetime ago, that the only causes worth fighting for were hopeless ones. And he had a feeling that there was no cause more hopeless than this one.

  He was right.

  The Centauri warship hesitated a moment, surveying the wreckage from on high. They verified for themselves that their assault had been well aimed, that the target was demolished. They could have gone down to inspect the job firsthand, but there seemed little point. The Narn ship was destroyed, the Narn and the human with whom he was transacting business were likely dead. Even if they lived, they had nowhere to go. There was no point in staying about. And so the Centauri cruiser jumped away into hyper-space, its job done.

  I had no idea then, as I've said, that there was a peace initiative being pursued. No idea that there were Humans and Minbari on the planet's surface, aided by the Narn who were far more noble at that moment than we could ever have hoped to be. No idea of the immense sin, the thousands more lives, that would be laid at our door ... at my door.

  Nothing breeds more rapidly than ignorance. For the Humans and Minbari likewise had no idea what had truly occurred. Each side assumed it was a renegade arm of its own government. But it was us. And it was my order that destroyed their last chance for peace.

  None of that was known to Sheridan. He was not even dwelling on who had been responsible for the attack. Caring about such a thing would have entailed a belief that he was going to survive beyond the moment. And at that point the only thing Sheridan was concerned about was continuing to breathe from one second to the next.

  He lost track of how much time passed. Perhaps the pain in his chest even caused him to black out slightly. And in that haze, that "between time" .. .

  He saw things.

  Things he did not quite understand. Darkness all around him, and something glowing ... something winged, ever so fleeting . . .

  And the glowing, winged form passed Anna, standing in a place that seemed to be nowhere and everywhere. As it passed, Anna was illuminated, and she was glowing and beautiful, and she was the light to Sheridan. He felt himself crawling toward her, not comprehending, but knowing he had to get to her for reasons he could not even begin to articulate.

  Then the glowing form passed away, and the last sight he had of Anna was darkness crossing over her face, enveloping her.

  And then, slowly, he began to recover his senses. He felt the awful weight and pressure of the rubble upon him, and gritted his teeth as he pushed it off himself. The dust had begun to clear and he was able to see Franklin, performing the same actions. Over in the far corner, G'Kar was likewise freeing himself, although Sheridan noted that it seemed to be with substantially less effort. And while Franklin and Sheridan groaned or moaned with the exertion, not a sound escaped G'Kar's lips. It was as if he was taking whatever pain he was in and using it to focus upon the job at hand.

  Then Sheri
dan saw Lenonn across the way . . .

  . . . and saw that he was not moving. His body lay broken, his eyes staring upward, fixed and glassy. He was still alive, but that did not appear to be a long-term state of being for him.

  Franklin, who had fared a bit better than Sheridan during the cave-in, had already made it over to the Minbari. He crouched over him, surveying the damage. He was too good a doctor to let the full measure of his awareness be reflected in his eyes, but he knew in a moment that the cause was hopeless. Sheridan hauled himself from the last of the debris that imprisoned him and stumbled to Franklin's side. "How is he?"

  The doctor looked over to Sheridan. "Not good," Franklin said. In point of fact he knew that was an understatement, but it is not considered good "bedside manner" to speak other than encouragement in the presence of a patient, particularly if you think that those moments are going to be the patient's last. It is far easier to meet one's maker if one doesn't know one has an appointment scheduled.

  "We need him alive," Sheridan said urgently.

  And then Lenonn spoke, which startled Franklin slightly since he thought that speech was, at that point, beyond the Minbari's capacity. "That . . . may not be . . . possible," Lenonn whispered. He looked at them with the eyes of one who knew he was dying. "I. . . am sorry. I have . . . made things worse."

  "Try not to talk, all right?" Franklin told him. He knew at that point that the only hope possible was that help would arrive in time to be of some use. And if Lenonn wasted what small strength he had remaining in self-recrimination, that would just increase the likelihood that the only thing waiting in the bunker when help arrived would be two banged-up Humans, one stoic Narn, and a Minbari corpse. If it should so happen that help arrived in the form of Minbari, well... that would certainly not be an array that would send the rescuers into paroxysms of joy.