0-In the Beginning

by Peter David

  With a roar of fury, Sonovar reached for Sheridan's neck, and there is every chance that he might have ripped the Human's head clear off his body. But that was the instant that Delenn suddenly said, "Stop!" The command in her voice was unmistakable, the reaction instantaneous. Sonovar froze in place as Delenn slowly approached with measured tread. She could not quite believe that she had heard the Human correctly; perhaps she had misunderstood him. He could not have been saying what she thought he'd said.

  Sheridan still did not see her face clearly . . . and would not for many years to come, although her voice would one day strike a familiar chord with him. Very slowly, not wanting to misspeak or use any words that could possibly muddle her meaning, Delenn said in the Human tongue, "What is in Dukhat's sacred place?"

  And Sheridan, who would eventually become rather fluent in Minbari, spoke his first two words in that alien tongue. "Isil-zha," he said, wondering if his last words were going to be, curiously, incomprehensible to him. "Isil-zha."

  Delenn stiffened, as if jolted with electricity. Slowly she surveyed the others to see their reactions. They merely stared at her blankly or in outright confusion. The message meant nothing to them, although it was certainly odd. Just as odd was her stunned reaction. The future. The Vorlons. The Vorlons are in Dukhat's sanctum. But only Lenonn and Delenn knew that. Why would he tell the Humans . . . unless it was a message to Delenn to trust them.

  Sheridan waited. Waited for what seemed an eternity. Wondering what the term meant to this gray-garbed Minbari on whose word everyone seemed to be waiting.

  She turned and said, "Let them go."

  Sonovar could not believe it, and Sheridan could tell from Sonovar's expression that something extraordinarily unexpected had just been said. For the first time, he felt just a twinge of hope. "Satai. . ." Sonovar began.

  "I said let them go!" Delenn said, her voice raised. "There has been enough death today."

  She saw no reason to stand around and tolerate the open-mouthed gaping of the other Minbari in the hallway. She walked away quickly. But something made her pause after only a few feet and glance behind her with curiosity. Although Sheridan could not see her clearly, she could nonetheless see him. It was her first sustained look at a Human.

  She was surprised to realize that, even with all the grime and dirt on him, even though he was injured and bleeding .. . he was not utterly displeasing to the eye. Then, as quickly as the thought had taken form, she shook it off, turned, and continued on her way.

  Franklin, meantime, leaned over toward Sheridan and said, "Isil-zha? What does that mean?"

  Sheridan shrugged, shaking his head, but G'Kar told them, "The future."

  In the meantime, Sonovar had been rapidly conferring with the others. They spoke in hushed whispers, so quickly that even G'Kar couldn't quite pick up what they were saying. Several of them seemed to be arguing over a particular course of action, but the others were speaking with equal force and invoking the word "Satai" a good deal. Clearly there was some discussion over the notion of disobeying the order that they had been given, and G'Kar wasn't entirely sure which way it was going to go.

  Finally Sonovar emerged from the group and approached them slowly. He pulled out a knife, and Sheridan was positive his heart stopped.

  Sonovar grabbed Sheridan, whirled him around . . . and cut the bonds that were holding his hands at the wrists. As he proceeded to sever Franklin's as well, Sheridan watched Delenn walk away. He couldn't help but feel that he had just been given the barest glimpse into some sort of dynamics of the Minbari. . . and he only wished he had a better understanding of the personalities involved so that he could fully comprehend it.

  A short time later, Sheridan, G'Kar, and Franklin were returned to the bunker. Sonovar brought them there personally, as if hoping that they would do something, make some provocative move, that would give him an excuse to kill them. Wisely, they said and did nothing. They barely even made eye contact. Once he had brought them back there, he simply stood there. It seemed as if he was just glaring at them, but there was more to it than that. He was trying to figure out just what it was about them that had prompted Satai Delenn to release them. He could not see anything special about them. In fact, they seemed rather pathetic.

  He turned away, and G'Kar said, "Are you going to alert the Humans or my people that we are here? That we are stranded?"

  Sonovar turned back and fixed him with a glare. "Do not press your good fortune," he warned. G'Kar nodded. The warning could not have been more plain. Sonovar walked out without another word, leaving the three of them alone on a world, surrounded by howling winds.

  It was some hours later that another Narn vessel, concerned over having lost touch with the ship transporting G'Kar, finally showed up. All during that time, the men said little or nothing to each other. They simply sat and contemplated their failure.

  Morann stormed into Delenn's quarters, shock etched on his face. "Is it true?" he demanded. "Did you actually let the humans go?"

  She nodded wordlessly.

  "You let them go?" It was as if the repetition of the deed could somehow diminish the pure horror of it.

  "Yes, Morann, I let them go," she said quite forcefully. "Were you in my position, you would have done the same. And I will tell you something further," she continued, taking a meaningful step toward him. "You will not only support me in this, but you will aid me in altering history. The Humans were never here."

  "What?" He tried to comprehend what she was saying. "What?"

  "That is correct. And not just you. You . . . and your warriors ... and anyone on this vessel who saw the Humans ... did not, in fact, see them."

  "You want me to lie? To have everyone lie? When it is contrary to everything we believe in as Minbari to do so?" He shook his head and, to her surprise, he looked saddened. "The strain of this war has unhinged you, Delenn. That is all there is to it."

  "I am far from unhinged, and you will listen to me carefully. We will do this thing-all of us-for the honor of Lenonn. In the name of his memory."

  "I do not understand."

  "Listen, then. Lenonn was as proud a Minbari as ever lived, correct?"

  "Yes," Morann agreed. Disputes they may have had, but never had he doubted Lenonn's pride or integrity.

  "He would have wanted to die well. Also correct? To have died as he had lived, proudly and bravely."

  "Yes, but I still don't under-"

  "In his last moments ... he spoke to the Humans. Spoke to them of Dukhat. He said to one of them that the future was in Dukhat's sacred place."

  "The future?" Morann shook his head in puzzlement. "The future? How was the future supposed to be in Dukhat's sacred place? Why was he even speaking to the Humans of Dukhat? Why was he giving them messages? It is as if... as if..."

  "It is as if, in his last moments, he lost control of himself," Delenn said. "Lost control of his faculties. Babbled incoherently, jumbled things together, spoke of matters that meant something only to him." She drew herself up. "Is that how we desire for Lenonn to be remembered at the end? Babbling to Humans and treating them as if they were somehow worthy of trust and intimate communication?"

  "I-"

  "Well? Is it?" she said again, even more forcefully.

  Slowly, Morann shook his head. "No," he said. "No, it is not. He deserved better than that. Much better."

  "He deserves to be remembered as the warrior he was, who cared about the future of our people. He believed that great danger hovered over us. He desired to be our protector. Let us leave him his dignity at his end."

  "So, what would you have us do, Delenn?" Morann said. "The Humans . .."

  And with as careful a deadpan as she could maintain, she asked, "What Humans?"

  He was silent for a long moment, and then intoned, "Indeed . .. what Humans?"

  She waited until he was gone, and then she quickly left her quarters. She looked neither left nor right, moving briskly, and yet she felt as if she could feel upon her the eyes
of everyone she passed. Moments later she arrived at the shrine that Lenonn had created to memorialize Dukhat, and entered it.

  She looked around the quarters, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. She saw shadows, large shapes over in the corner of the room. The Vorlons.

  "What do I do?" she demanded.

  No response.

  "I am ..." Her hands moved in vague patterns. "I am ... alone. Dukhat . . . gave me knowledge, Lenonn gave me determination. I am surrounded by my people, who wish nothing but to eliminate the Humans in their holy war. I am but one voice . . . one voice . . . they will not listen to me. Even with the help of Lenonn, it would have taken nothing short of a miracle.

  "Now Lenonn is gone, and his death has revitalized the hatred that we hold for the Humans. No one will ever trust them, no one will ... I need . . . help. I need guidance. If you were to show yourselves, if you were to stand by my side. .."

  Again there was no reply.

  Her fingers curling into fists, her body began trembling with barely repressed fury, and she told them, "Don't you understand? I don't know what to do now! It is ... it is like trying to stop the roll of waves by standing on the shore and swinging a sword at it! This war has gained greater and greater momentum, and I don't know how to stop it! If I reveal that I was in alliance with Lenonn, then I will lose all credibility within the Council. I am not dealing from strength! I have no strength and I need you to help me!"

  She waited. Waited, her eyes pleading for a response. None came.

  She moved toward the tall, dark form. "Say something to me! Any sort of answer! Anything! Do not just stand there, silent, knowing all, saying nothing! Do not-!"

  Her hands went right through where she thought the Vorlon had been standing. She stepped back, confused, and realized that he hadn't been there at all. That it had been a trick of light. She whirled, looking around desperately. "Where are you?"

  The shadows did not move, did not stir.

  The Vorlons had gone.

  Delenn sank to her knees and softly, ever so softly so that none would hear, she began to sob to herself.

  She was alone. All alone in the dark.

  Sheridan sat in the office of General Lefcourt. He had been cleaned up, but he still had a haggard expression on his face. Lefcourt looked no happier about the situation. "So you have no idea who attacked you," he said, ticking off each thing he said on his fingers. "You have no idea who this Minbari was, or the significance of what he said to you. And you have no idea why they spared you and Dr. Franklin."

  "No, sir." He sighed. "You're free, of course, to speak to Dr. Franklin about it..."

  "We already have," Lefcourt informed him. "He was of no more use on the matter than you, I'm afraid. Nor was G'Kar. As for the peace initiative . . ."

  "We have to pursue it," Sheridan said urgently. "Perhaps there .. ."

  But Lefcourt was shaking his head. "No. The Narn are no longer interested in cooperating. They've already lost a vessel over it, and they're not even sure why or to whom. Their suspicion-and I admit it makes sense-is that another arm of the Minbari government secretly decided to destroy the peace initiative."

  "I don't know that I agree, sir."

  "It's the Narn reading, and we concur."

  "But then why did they let us go?"

  Again Lefcourt shook his head. "We're not entirely certain. It could be that they did not wish to aggravate the Narn and find themselves fighting a two-front war."

  Sheridan looked doubtful. "Look, General, maybe if..."

  "No, Commander. I'm afraid we no longer have the choice. The Narn, as I've said, are out of the picture, and the Minbari seem no more inclined to talk with us directly than they were before. Which leaves us out of luck and-before too long-out of time."

  Never before in his life had Sheridan felt quite that helpless or frustrated. "But if we tell everyone . . . put out a broadcast that said we had an initial meeting with the Minbari... maybe we could ..."

  "Could what? Raise hopes needlessly? The mission ended in failure, Sheridan. I know that failure is not something that you cheerfully accept, but in this case you're simply going to have to deal with it. Nor will word of our meeting with the Minbari be considered anything other than strictly classified. We do not need the general populace mourning the loss of a peace that was never going to be. Instead they have to steel themselves and prepare to-"

  "Die?" Sheridan asked.

  "I was going to say, 'Fight,'" Lefcourt replied.

  And, very bleakly, Sheridan thought, Same difference.

  And so the first official meeting between Minbari and Humans, ever so quietly, evaporated as if it had never happened. Oh, there were rumors, reports that there had been some attempt at a rendezvous, of a Human/Minbari meeting. But it remained merely hearsay. No official confirmation was possible, which was what both sides decided they found preferable.

  Instead, as it turned out, a subsequent and rather portentous meeting became considered the "first encounter." I shall tell you of that later.

  For now, there was a . . . disturbing incident . . . that I shall share with you . . .

  I was walking down a corridor in Earthdome, mulling over the situation and trying to decide just how long it would be wise for me to stay on Earth. After all, the last place I desired to be when the Minbari arrived was upon the homeworld of a race that they had targeted for extermination.

  I entered my office and was surprised to see G'Mak, my Narn contact, seated there. He was staring at me levelly, his face unreadable. "G'Mak, " I said slowly. "Did we have an appointment? I do not recall. .."

  "It was for peace," he said.

  I did not understand what he was talking about at first. I shook my head in confusion. "Peace? What was . . . ? I don't..."

  "Peace was an impossibility, you said. Your contacts were very specific, you said." He spoke slowly, dangerously. "You said that, Mollari, and may the gods help me, I believed it." Slowly he was rising from his chair.

  Ever so gradually, I began to back up. I did not run, for I did not desire to appear frightened. With a forced casualness in my tone, I said, "Yes, I said that. And what gives you the impression that-"

  I noticed that his fingers were flexing. It did not appear, to me, to be a good sign. "G'Kar told me," he whispered harshly. "He told me there were Minbari there. They were waiting to speak of peace. Of peace, Mollari. But you put an end to that, didn't you."

  I tried to find words. My mouth opened and closed, however, and nothing emerged.

  "It was a Centauri ship that destroyed the Narn vessel, wasn't it? That opened fire on the planet below. The planet where I told you they were going to be."

  "It can't be." I shook my head as if such a motion could dispel the truth. "There ... is no hope of peace . . . my contacts . . ."

  "Damn your contacts," G'Mak said. "Damn me for listening to you. And damn you for living, Mollari. As a matter of fact, I think it preferable if you did not."

  He lunged for me but missed. I would like to tell you that I was so agile that I easily dodged him. In point of fact, I slipped, and he moved past me without actually coming into contact with me. I spun on my heel, tried to get to the door, and almost made it before he tackled me from behind. We fell through the open doorway into the corridor, G'Mak on top of me, pounding on the side of my head, howling Narn obscenities at me. "We're both going to hell, Mollari!" he howled. "The only difference is, you're going to get there before me! It's on our heads, Mollari, ours!"

  I had not fully assimilated the truth of what he was saying. Instead I was too busy fighting for my life. His hands were on my throat, and the only thing that prevented him from breaking my neck was the fact that I had my hands at his wrists, just barely managing to pull them clear. sBut it was only for a very brief time that I was going to be able to keep an infuriated Narn at bay.

  And then a gloved hand came down and grabbed G'Mak by the back of the neck. "What do you think you're doing?" a deep, outraged voice demanded.

&nb
sp; Just like that, G'Mak was lifted clear of me. I rolled over onto my back, my face no doubt looking badly injured already, and looked up to see the face of my unexpected savior.

  I felt my blood chill.

  Understand . . .

  ... many, many years ago, as I have told you-and I am loath to bring it up again, but I regret that it is necessary for you to comprehend-I dreamt of my death. In that dream there was a Narn whom I had never seen before. He had one eye. The other, presumably empty socket was covered by a patch. He possessed a snarl of fury, and his fingers were upon my throat, as were mine upon his, as if we hated each other more than anyone in the galaxy. With a hatred that could shatter planets, annihilate entire races.

  Upon looking up into the face of my unexpected savior, I felt a shock of recognition.

  It was he. He had two eyes, and there was no fury in them. Merely a cool, mocking look.

  My future executioner extended a hand to me, wordlessly, indicating that I should use it to help myself up. I gripped his hand firmly and pulled myself to standing.

  As if what I had to say didn't matter, he simply ignored me and turned instead to G'Mak. "What began this?" he demanded.

  "It is my business, G'Kar," G'Mak said.

  So this was G'Kar. The famous G'Kar, whom I knew through a variety of stories and incidents. G'Kar, the man whom I now believed was going to slay me at some far point in the future.

  "I am taking pains to make it my business, as well," G'Kar snapped. "You cannot simply go about assaulting members of other races, even Centauri. They take offense at that for some odd reason." His sarcasm was apparently lost on G'Mak, and I did everything I could to not react. I was too busy hiding my feeling of recognition. And it is entirely possible, I suppose, that he sensed it as well. Or at least sensed something, for he stared at me for a moment before turning back to G'Mak. "Don't hide the truth from me, G'Mak. What is this all about?"

  What was G'Mak supposed to say at that point? Should he admit his duplicity to G'Kar? To do so would be to take responsibility for leaking information to the despised Centauri. For the deaths of all those Narns aboard the transport. For the deaths of untold billions of Humans whose hopes for peace had been dashed. Could he admit to all that?