It was a deceptively simple question, and yet one that had not been immediately evident for so many years . . . years that had nearly driven her people apart before the simple truth, as presented to them by Valen, was made clear.
"That we are one people, one voice," she said.
As Dukhat continued, Delenn felt as if her soul were being lifted up, buoyantly, on great wings. She felt as if the stars themselves were calling to her, summoning her, beckoning the spirits of all her kin from the past and from all of her future-drawing upon everything she had been and would ever be, elevating her to this moment.
For a thousand years ago, you see, the Minbari were engaged in a great war against a great enemy. And a great man came to them. His name was Valen, and he was a Minbari who was born not of Minbari, or at least so it was said, armed with mighty weapons from another time. He marshaled the forces of the Minbari and their allies, helped them to drive back the darkness. But before he did so, he asked the Minbari three questions-unsurprising since, as I mentioned, the Minbari seem positively obsessed with the number three. And those three questions were the same ones now posed to Delenn by Dukhat:
"Will you follow me into fire?" asked Dukhat. "Will you follow me into darkness? Will you follow me into death?"
Such was the power and charisma of Valen that the answer given him, long ago, was that of unswerving affirmation. One would have to think that, in these more cynical times, there would have been a good deal more hesitation. Ask it of most Humans, I should think, and the questions would likely end up in committee, to be pondered by politicians and bureaucrats, the answers never to be forthcoming.
But the Grey Council, Valen, and Minbari pride stem from a different era. With excitement in her eyes, Delenn answered unhesitatingly, "I will."
"Then follow," Dukhat instructed her.
He raised the staff vertically, turned, and entered the chamber of the Grey Council. The rest of Delenn's . . . peers, for that was what they were now ... were waiting for her. Their hoods were drawn, but she felt as if she could sense Morann's gaze harshly upon her. She suspected that they were never going to get on particularly well, the two of them.
She refused to dwell on it. Refused to let it ruin such an important moment for her.
She stepped into the middle of the circle, the light shining down upon her. Slowly, an Acolyte approached her with the most sacred relic of Minbar: the triluminary. To you or me, it would appear to be little more than a glowing triangle, not much larger than your two palms put together. But to the Minbari, it was a direct connection to the time of Valen himself, a perfect link. Past, present, and future, the three sides of time, coming together in perfect symmetry.
Delenn raised her hand to the triluminary and to her surprise it glowed in response. Her voice sounded deep and husky to her, and very loud within her own head. "I am gray," she intoned. "I stand between the darkness and the light. Between the candle and the star."
The only thing in the room that glowed brighter than the triluminary was the smile on Dukhat's face. He could not have been more proud had Delenn been his daughter, as he watched her fulfill one part of her amazing destiny.
Unfortunately, at that moment, a more violent aspect of her destiny was bearing down upon her with frightening speed . . .
Chafin felt cold.
It wasn't from the atmosphere of the bridge; that was carefully maintained and was quite comfortable. No, it was the information that his scanner was delivering to him. Chafin had known going in that this was a potential first-contact scenario, and had further known that Jankowski was not necessarily the best man to have in such a situation. But he had told himself that he would be able to deal with it should the eventuality present itself.
What he had been unprepared for, he realized, was what he was feeling as he reverified what his scanners were telling him. There was a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't fear, for Chafin was no coward. No ... it was dread.
"Sir," Chafin said, his voice maintaining a professional, even keel, "we're picking up a silhouette at the edge of scanner range."
Jankowski frowned. "I thought this area was supposed to be well outside the Minbari transfer points."
"Aye, sir, it is," Chafin confirmed. "There's no reason they should be here."
"Unless," Jankowski said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, "they're looking for us."
Chafin definitely did not like the sound of Jankowski's tone. It carried a potentially dangerous combination of paranoia and eagerness. Chafin had no idea why the Minbari would possibly be looking for the Humans. It made absolutely no sense. There'd been no contact, no messages back and forth. No challenge, no gauntlet thrown down. This was, more than likely, merely coincidence. But if Jankowski already was seeing it as more than that, and the Minbari were not, then the possibilities for miscommunication-and perhaps even disaster-were abundant.
Exuding caution from every pore, Chafin suggested, "Should we jump back to hyperspace?" That would have been the wisest maneuver.
"Negative," Jankowski said immediately. "We just jumped in, and I don't want to put any more strain on the engines than we have to. Besides," and he shifted in his chair, "if it is them, I want to see if we can get a look at them."
Alarms were now screaming in Chafin's head. "Captain, our orders were to avoid a first-contact situation unless authorized to-"
"I know our orders, Commander," Jankowski said sharply. There was the sound of rebuke in his voice. Perhaps he thought Chafin was challenging his authority. As events would shortly prove, Commander Chafin was not challenging enough. "Now take us in at an oblique angle, and keep the scanners at maximum. If we do this right, they won't even know we're here."
The response was written all over Chafin's face. We're already doing it wrong. But he said nothing other than, "Aye, sir," and followed his captain's orders.
Within a few minutes, he nodded. "Scanners confirm target is unknown vessel. We read two primary vessels and several support ships."
"Let me see," Jankowski ordered.
Chafin punched up the schematic on a monitor, and a spiked, sketchy wire-frame image of the ships appeared on it. Even that flickered and jumped nervously. Jankowski looked none too pleased. "Is that all we've got so far? Just the silhouette?"
"Scanners are having a hard time locking on," Chafin replied. "They may be using some kind of stealth technology."
Jankowski stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Any hostile action yet?"
"Negative, sir," Chafin said, not entirely able to keep the relief out of his voice. "They may not have noticed us yet."
"Bring us in closer," Jankowski ordered. "I want as much information as we can get."
Chafin couldn't believe it. He turned in his chair, and his tone and demeanor hovered just shy of insubordination. "Sir, our orders-!"
But Jankowski didn't let Chafin get beyond those first three words. He was the sort of captain who was convinced that he knew all there was to know, and that suggestions from his officers were threats to hi > authority. A very sad state of mind, that. Only someone utterly lacking in confidence is so driven to try to prove that they possess it in abundance.
"Our orders are to get information on the Minbari. If we can come back with a profile of their warships, they'll be handing out medals by the bucket. We handled the Dilgar. We can handle a few stray ships. Now bring us closer."
Chafin couldn't believe it. Medals? The Dilgar? What in the name of God had possessed Jankowski? What the hell kind of priorities were these? One wrong move could launch an interstellar incident. Was Jankowski aware of that at all, or was he so obsessed with his own self-confidence and swagger that he simply didn't understand it?
For a moment, just one moment, Chafin considered disobeying the order, telling Jankowski flat out that he was acting precipitously and refusing to carry out what he was being told. But he knew exactly what would happen. Jankowski would simply relieve him of command, stick him in the brig, and replace him with the next man in li
ne.
No. No, if there were going to be any problems, then Chafin at least wanted to be there on the bridge and to have a fighting chance of retaining command of his own fate.
"Aye, sir," Chafin said.
In a corridor of the Minbari cruiser, Dukhat stopped a passing crew member. Delenn and the other members of the Grey Council were standing nearby as Dukhat said, "Ah, Enfili, tell the captain that we have concluded the ceremony and we can begin the final leg of our journey. Tell him to set course," and he paused, displaying the noted Dukhat flair for the dramatic, before he concluded, "for Z'ha'dum."
Delenn smiled inwardly as the Minbari crewman moved away. In some ways, Dukhat -who bore an awesome responsibility for the Minbari race upon his shoulders-had never really grown up. He displayed an almost childlike glee over the mere mention of their destination. Perhaps it was his ability to keep such close touch with that youthful enthusiasm that enabled him to handle his responsibilities so adroitly.
Then Delenn noticed that Morann was engaged in a whispered conversation with another Minbari crewman. She could instantly discern from his demeanor that they were discussing something of great concern. And Morann looked genuinely worried. Anything that could worry Morann was definitely alarming, for Morann's infernal self-confidence did not allow him to routinely display apprehension. A moment more, and then Morann walked back to the Grey Council, pausing just long enough to allow Dukhat to walk on ahead.
But the moment Dukhat was out of earshot, he wasted no time in saying, "The sensors have detected an echo that seems to be following our course. They may be alien ships on approach. I've told them to go to maximum power on the scanners so we can verify." He lowered his voice even more as he added, "No reason to concern Dukhat with it until we know more."
This brought concurring nods from the other members of the Council.
Poor fools.
If they only knew . . .
Chafin felt his heart begin to race as his readings gave him precisely the information that he was dreading. "Sir," he said, "alien ships are changing course, moving in our direction." A warning signal blinked at him. "Picking up scanners. Extremely powerful. . . I've never seen anything like them . . ." Then he swung about in his chair, and this lime there was no hint of challenge or defiance, but merely alarmed information being provided. "They've seen us!"
And Captain Jankowski, the medal seeker, Captain Jankowski, dreaded enemy of the Dilgar, suddenly felt the same chill that Chafin had experienced minutes earlier. The first stirrings that he might very well have thrust himself into something for which neither he, nor his crew, nor perhaps even the Human race, was prepared. "All right, get us out of here," Jankowski said quickly, making the first good decision of the past half hour. "Prepare to-"
Chafin was already ahead of him. He'd been prepared to fire up the jump engines and send the Prometheus hurtling back into hyperspace from the moment they'd first picked up the Minbari on their scanners. But he was thoroughly alarmed to discover that all of the comforting readings that moments before had assured him escape was available at the touch of a control had abruptly vanished. "Jump engines not responding," Chafin announced.
The only thing that kept Jankowski from leaping out of his chair in alarm was the strap. Had it not been there, the motion would have carried him halfway across the room and likely knocked him cold. Which, considering what was to happen next, could only have been an improvement. "What?!" he spat out.
Shaking his head in exasperation, Chafin was desperately trying to find a means of bypassing the problem and was having no luck at all. "Alien scanner arrays are interfering with the electrical systems. Tremendous EMP output. Trying to reroute . . ."
Jankowski thudded an angry fist on his armrest. "They drew us in deliberately," he barked in an accusatory voice. "Wanted to get us within range of their scanners so they could shut us down!"
There was something about the moment that seemed to call for Chafin hauling off and belting his superior officer, but that hardly seemed as if it would be especially productive. "Sir," he pointed out, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice, "you said you wanted to get as much information on the enemy ships as possible. What if they want to capture our ships for the exact same reason?"
Thoughts of medals flitted away. Jankowski -always most concerned about his image -was now contemplating what it would be like to go from hero to fool. To being responsible for the Minbari garnering all the information about Humans that they desired, while the Humans came away with nothing except humiliation. "Then we have to make sure that doesn't happen, Commander," he said flatly. "Go to red alert. Try to open up a channel. Tell them ... we mean them no harm."
He prayed that the Minbari could be reasoned with. That they would see the Humans posed no threat.
As it so happened, his prayer was answered. But in a perverse twist that would indicate that the Human God has a sick sense of humor, Jankowski was unaware that he'd been granted his request. Indeed, one can almost picture the Human God throwing up His hands and saying, "I tried! But they wouldn't even listen to me!"
Not surprising. No, not surprising at all.
Never had the Grey Council so quickly reassembled after having disbanded mere moments before. They were within the Council chamber, and the walls had transformed into screens with assorted images of the intruders portrayed upon them. They were on all the walls around them, and Delenn couldn't help but feel as if she were surrounded. Then Dukhat entered, moving quickly, his attention obviously being required. She was struck by the complete change in his demeanor. The playfulness, the amusement, was gone. Instead he was all business. "What is it?" he asked.
"We detected these alien ships approaching our space," Morann told him.
Dukhat frowned, staring at the vessels whose images adorned the upper reaches of the Council chamber. "I've never seen those markings before. Who are they?"
"I believe they are the Humans" Delenn theorized. "I have investigated them on my own."
The mere mention of the word seemed to galvanize Dukhat. Delenn was surprised. Though word of the elusive Humans had reached some in the Grey Council in the past, she had never mentioned her studies to Dukhat before, since she did not consider the subject to be of overwhelming importance. The Humans were merely one of any number of such races that Delenn had investigated, since her thirst for knowledge was virtually unquenchable and she found all manner of things to be of interest. So the startled reaction from Dukhat caught her off-guard, as Morann stepped in. "They have tried to contact us, but we do not understand their language. As is our custom, we are approaching with the gunports open."
Dukhat stiffened. "By whose order?"
Morann appeared surprised that Dukhat had any question in his voice. "Master, that is the tradition of the warrior caste, a gesture of respect and strength. They can see our weapons; they can see we approach them openhanded."
Dukhat started to reply, but he was never heard, as a sudden explosion rocked the Minbari cruiser. And just like that, with one shot... the Humans signed their death warrant.
The movement in the surface of the lead cruiser caught Chafin's attention immediately. Something began to protrude from the craft, leading Chafin to make a snap, and quite accurate, assessment. "Sir! Alien ships have opened gunports!"
Jankowski visibly paled. "Are they preparing to fire?"
Chafin shook his head in frustration. His readings were all over the place. It was like trying to pick out the words to a song while the broadcast was enveloped in static. He wanted to slam the console with his fists. "I don't know} 1 can't tell-!"
"Talk to me," Jankowski ordered with rising concern. "Is there a lock-on?"
"The scanner's too powerful! I couldn't tell even if they were . . ." And then he saw similar movement on the other vessels as well. "They've all opened gunports! Enemy presumed hostile! Weapons hot!"
He could have waited. Jankowski, in order to avoid starting a war, could have gambled with his ship, his life, and the lif
e of his crew. He could have waited until he was fired upon in order to make certain that the threat was genuine. That it wasn't a bluff, or saber rattling, or-indeed-what it truly was, namely a sign of respect.
But he did not. He would not take that risk. He placed his own survival above all the potential ramifications, and shouted, "Hell... all batteries, all forward guns ... fire at will! I repeat, fire at will!"
The Prometheus unleashed its firepower on the unprepared Minbari cruisers. Taking their cue from Jankowski, the other Earth destroyers ripped into the cruisers as well. Within the Minbari vessels, entire bulkheads were blown apart, girders ripped from their moorings and sent smashing down on the fleeing Minbari crewmen. Religious-caste members, untrained for war, prayed ... and died. Warrior-caste members, prepared for battle all their lives, fared little better. They had been caught completely unprepared, and the Earth destroyers pressed their advantage.
Credit the Minbari that they did their best to recover. Within moments of the unprovoked attack, steely blue-gray fighters swarmed from the nose of one of the cruisers, hurtling toward the Earth vessels like infuriated, tri-winged insects. Return fire pummeled one of the Earth destroyers, which had moved to intercept the i ttack as the Prometheus concentrated its fire on the lead Minbari cruiser.
Debris had fallen all around Delenn, and it was nothing short of miraculous that her skull was not caved in. She staggered to her feet in the corridor, looked around in confusion. And then, to her horror, she saw Dukhat, half buried in rubble that had plummeted from overhead.
There was no way that Delenn should have been able to haul Dukhat out of his entombment, but she did. Drawing strength from who-knows-where, she shoved aside girders and metal, dragged Dukhat out from under. She refused to even entertain the notion that he might be fatally injured. Her mind was still having trouble coping with the reality of the situation. It was all a dream, yes, that had to be it. A bad dream, a nightmare, one in which the most joyous and honored day of her life was to be forever joined with one of the greatest tragedies ever to be inflicted upon the Minbari.