Note: I had this chapter done a few months ago, but was being idiotic and I got busy with my Star Trek fan series.
Chapter 2: We'll Always Have New York
The sound of the cars as they passed around the tower could be heard, even from up here at the top. Hovercars had only just taken off, to pardon the pun, in sales, and most of the thirteen million New York citizens still drove the combustible engine automobiles. Global warming had passed to global freezing and then it had shifted to global stoning. They had gotten rid of the dependency of fossil fuels, switching instead to synthetic algae and other green products. But it still, no matter how energy efficient they made the vehicles, managed to eliminate the noise pollution.
He had always hated this apartment. But, as he looked out and took in the salty breeze from the ocean not ten blocks away, he couldn't help but admit that he was glad he had moved. A fighter jock didn't need to live out of his parents place.
The music player was playing his favorite audio book. Ernest Hemingway. He wasn't all that bad for a dead white guy.
The door closed behind him and he let out a long sigh. Catherine was gone. Perhaps for good this time. Catherine Sakai and he had never seemed to be able to work their relationship out. So off she went, the second time they had broken up.
He really never could understand why love was so difficult. If it was one of the natural emotions, why was it so brutal? He rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on. That would be an improvement.
He turned from the view and walked into the apartment, heading towards the medicine cabinet. He loved living on Earth, much more than Mars. He was Mars-born, but in many ways he more identified with Earth than the Red Planet. As he walked through, he noted how...empty it was. So many possessions were gone. Pictures, books, the odd statue. They were all gone. Catherine had really moved out, he guessed.
The door to the cabinet creaked as he opened it, viewing with distaste that all the medicines were gone. Catherine must have taken all the meds too. That somehow stank of a much lower blow.
"Me not being there will give her headache enough," he muttered to himself with grim satisfaction.
He had left last time. She had invited him to Hong Kong to meet her family. He had arrived, and she had gone into full wedding mode, trying to push him towards marrying her. He had escaped, leaving her standing at the airplane station.
This time, it was his fault that had led to her leaving. She had moved in, and within weeks he had begun exerting control over everything. Where she put the plates after meals. When they'd watch movies. How much food she could put in the fridge and cupboards. He had even woken her up whenever he felt they needed to get up.
Part of being a fighter pilot was knowing when and where to let space take control, when to loosen up on the throttles and when more control needed to be exerted. But he had failed to apply those methods of space combat to the domestic front.
He opened up the cupboard and grabbing a cup turned on the faucet. Filling up the cup until it was overflowing, he turned off the water and raised it to his lips. He barely took a sip before he grimaced at the taste. The one thing he didn't like about New York was the water treatment. It always made it taste chalky for roughly a week.
"Why are we here in Jeffrey Sinclair's place?" Sheridan asked, sitting in a chair in the medium sized living room. "When is this anyways?"
"This would be roughly three years before the Earth-Minbari War," Galen said, sitting in another seat, his arms laid to rest on either armrest.
"Again," Sheridan said, "What are we doing here?"
Galen turned an amused glance at the man. He seemed to be like a cat, playing with a ball of string and the string had no control or idea of what was happening. Galen didn't respond, allowing the silence to mount.
The communication panel on the wall began to beep and Jeffrey Sinclair turned towards it. He placed the cup on the counter with a soft thud and walked up to the channel pressing a button to activate the incoming message. An image came on, and an elderly looking General for Earth Force was sitting on the other side of the line. Sinclair gave him a smart and crisp salute.
"Lieutenant Sinclair," the General returned the salute, "How are you doing son?"
"Very well sir," he replied, his voice showing no hint to his inner disappointment. He had hoped inwardly that perhaps it was Catherine calling to ask for forgiveness. But why she wouldn't have come to the door would have been a curious detail to say the least.
"How would you like to go to Io?" the General asked. He was referring to one of the moons around Jupiter. It had only five years before been declared ready for colonists and it had reached recently twenty-five thousand people.
"Io, sir?" Sinclair asked, the confusion in his voice.
"We need someone to take over the post there," the General explained, "And quiet frankly, the only other officer that could have taken it declined it."
"Sir,may I inquire to whom it was that declined?" the young man asked. It was obvious that this wasn't a big assignment. Not even a good one. More of a backwater colony with delusions of grandeur.
"Commander John Sheridan declined because he didn't want to get tied down at a desk job," he said, "Look, I realized you are a space fighter. And a d-n good one too I hear. But this is a chance to stretch your wings. Give you real command experience."
"When would I take up command?" he asked.
"In one week," came the answer.
"I accept," Sinclair said, not needing to know anything more.
"What does this have to do with anything?" Sheridan asked, the surroundings around him going slightly quiet. "I didn't even meet Sinclair until the start of the Second Narn War. Besides an accident at the Academy."
"Not every decision in your life had negative consequences, Sheridan," Galen said.
Sheridan gave him a doubtful look. How could this have possible been a good decision? He remembered passing up Io. It had been one of the best career moves he had ever made. Io had been undesirable in all aspects.
"But you placed a man that you barely knew in the position he needed to be," the Technomage responded.
"How?" Sheridan held up his hands.
"Jeffrey Sinclair met his best friend while on Io, something he never would have been able to do had he not gone there," Galen explained, leaning forward in the chair, "You placed him in a spot where he'd be able to meet with the Vorlons and learn about who he was far in advance had he otherwise been. He is Valen and Valen is him. You set him on the path to become one of the greatest leaders history has ever known. All because you said 'no' once when you could have said 'yes'."
"I'm still not convinced," he muttered, "The occasional good choice does not change the outcome of all my bad decisions."
Galen shook his head. "No, it does not," he agreed, "But one cannot simply loose heart because they don't see the good. Blessings are not that hard to spot when you put effort into it."
"What blessings?" he snorted, "If I've had any blessing, it was to die early."
Galen grabbed his hand and the rom vanished and contorted as they moved out through space and time through the collective memories of an entire race.
