Chapter 4: The Line
"Are we on? This is... this is the President. I have just been informed that the midrange military bases at Beta Durani and Proxima 3 have fallen to the Minbari advance. We've lost contact with Io and must conclude that they too have fallen to an advance force. Our Military Intelligence believes that the Minbari intend to bypass Mars and hit Earth directly and the attack could come at any time. We have continued to broadcast our surrender and a plea for mercy and they have not responded. Therefore we can only conclude that we stand at the twilight of the human race. In order to buy time for our evacuation transports to leave Earth, we ask for the support of every ship capable of fighting to take part in a last defense of our home world. We will not lie to you, we do not believe that survival is a possibility. We believe that anyone who joins this battle will never come home. But for every ten minutes we can delay the militar advance, several hundred more civilians may have a chance to escape to neutral territory. Though Earth may fall, the human race must have a chance to continue elsewhere. No greater sacrifice has ever been asked of a people. But I ask you now to step forward one last time, one last battle to hold the line against the night. May God go with you all."
These words. The words drove them to the front line. These words brought nearly 20,000 soldiers on hundreds of ships. These were Earth's last defense against the Minbari. Thirty Hyperion-Class ships, seventy-three Nova-Class Heavy Cruisers. Dozens of personal ships that had any sort of weapon on them. Starfurys flew in formation as a screen out in front of the fleet. The last line against the night.
Captain Sheridan stood in awe and wonder. This reminder him of so many battles from military history. In many ways, this was like the Huns at the gates of Rome. The United States preparing to attack the Confederate capitol at Richmond. The Soviet Union preparing to strike at Berlin. Was this really to be the last great battle of survival for Earth? Was it really to end this way? In a blaze of glory? It was so incredible he could not believe it.
"Jump points activating near the Moon," the nav officer called out.
"It's a trap!" Commander Sinclair shouted from his Starfury. Hundreds, then thousands of ships had just dropped in out of hyperspace. The capitol ships were preceded by thousands of fighters. Even at a glance Sinclair knew they were outnumbered. They were going to die.
Chief-of-Staff Fontaine looked out from the bridge of the Earth Alliance flagship Zeus. While he didn't believe in gods or myths, he dearly hoped the luck of the Gods was with them. Because they were going to need it.
"All ships," Chief-of-Staff Leftcourt on board the Jupiter said calmly, although his heart had just plummeted to the floor, "Engage. Starfurys, take out as many enemy fighters as you can, then drop back to defend the capitol ships."
Delenn watched as the fighters from both sides engaged. Her heart felt sick as she watched the battle join. The Minbari fighters might have the power, but they were nowhere as manuverable as the enemy fighters. And she watched as by ones, then twos, then three fighters vanished on both sides in heavy dogfights.
The rest of the Grey Council watched in solemn agony. They had never wanted such violence, but it had to be done. It was the only way to purge the galaxy of the infestation of humans.
But, the anger that had frosted her soul had long since vanished. Replaced by unholy guilt. Guilt of her own part she played in the demise of this race. Proud but mild. Anguished but compassionate.
"So it begins," one of the Council muttered next to her.
Sinclair increased the speed to his fighter. His squadron had been shattered. One pilot had panicked and had tried to flee. It had been shot down before he had gotten one klick away. The Starfury screen had collapsed all around him, and he alone remained. Either direction he looked, all he could see was swarms of Minbari fighters plowing through the shattered remnants of his buddies. Sometimes, the Minbari weren't satisfied with the clean kill and so destroyed the floating rubble from the destroyed ships.
Ejected cockpits were shot down. He saw as he flew a helmet floating in space. His Starfury plowed through corpses and shattered fighters like so many pieces of rubble. Blood froze to the glass of his cockpit. He bowed his head and said a quick prayer.
"No no no!" he snarled, bringing his head up, rage filling him, "If I'm going down I'm taking the bastar-"
His words were lost as sparks leapt from his consol screen.
There was nothing left to it. He was going to die. He knew that. But, he wasn't going to die without taking as many of the Boneheads as he could. He aimed straight for a Minbari cruiser as it was coming past him. They fired a shot at him, and although being a near miss, it knocked all power out. And left him floating, slowly spinning in the vacuum of space. And he was helpless to stop the Minbari advance on his homeworld.
"Captain," the weapons officer shouted, "Enemy star fighter floating in space. Preparing to vaporize."
The Minbari Captain stood with his face pressed to his hands. There was no reason to wipe out all humanity. They did nothing to deserve this fate. Sure, they killed Dukhat, but he had travelled into their space with gunports open. What could they have expected?
"Does it pose any threat to us?" the Minbari captain asked, slowly raising his face from his hands.
"It's dead in space," the Minbari reported, glancing back at him, "But, wouldn't you like me to finish the job?"
"No," the Minbari captain shook his head, "There is enough bloodshed to worry about a single fighter, alone. Continue the assault on the Earth defenses, and may Valen forgive us."
The Minbari cruiser pushed through the debris of the Earth destroyer, and with the same precision of a knife cut through the ship behind it as it turned to fend off the attack of a different vessel. Less than twenty minutes had passed, and the line was collapsing. Several ships had already broken and fled, leaving their fellows and comrades exposed to the vicious assaults of the Minbari.
Great acts of valor and courage permeated up and down the Line. Three personal yachts, after running out of ammunition, had formed a human shield for another badly crippled dreadnought. A Nova Cruiser, despite being badly damaged, had turned it's flank to the enemy, shielding another cruiser as the crew abandoned ship.
Sheridan rocked in his chair as another cruiser exploded close to his own. The whole ship rocked violently. Sparks flew from the ceiling, like confetti at a party.
"That's going to need painted over," he darkly commented, and got the unexpected reason of getting weak chuckles from the bridge crew.
"How many transports have made it out of Earth?" he asked and his second replied, "An estimated thirty percent."
Not good. Even as he looked out the view screen, he realized he was not going to win this battle. Earth Force was over matched. Everywhere he looked, the Minbari had broken through, and were streaming towards Terra Firma. The broken pieces of ships floated like broken toys. Indeed, they were that. Toys that had broken under the foot of a tantruming child.
But, he was going to get everyone out that he could. The guns from the Lexington continued firing, and he could see a Minbari cruiser veer off to dodge a blast. He would have continued to track that ship, but so many ships were flying towards him. So many.
"Sir," the communications officer reported, "A message from General Fontaine."
"Patch it through," Sheridan said.
The viewport turned on, and General Fontaine was seen on his bridge. Smoke billowed throughout the command bridge. Wires hung from the ceiling, the end sparking. Glass was shattered all over the place. Fontaine was one of the few people still alive on the deck, a woman behind him trying to control things, although it appeared he had lost his hand. Screams from dying crewmembers rang out in the background, and Sheridan could see in the background an officer stabbed through the wall by falling debries, pinned to the wall, weakly trying to push the piece away from him.
"Sheridan," Fontaine said, "What's your status?"
"About thirty percent damage to all sectors," Sheridan reported.
"Can you make the jump to hyperspace?" Fontaine asked.
Sheridan raised an eyebrow, "Yeah. Why?"
"I need you to leave with the refugees," Fontaine said.
"I can't sir," he shook his head, "You need me to help fight the enemy. Keep the Minbari from destroying you."
"You are the only ship still able to do so," Fontaine explained, "And we will need at least one ship to help defend our remnant at Epsilon 3. You must leave. That is an order."
"But sir..."
"Captain Sheridan," Fontaine said, the screen becoming staticy, "I realize this is a hard thing to do. But you must survive. Understood?"
Sheridan bowed his head. This was indeed a hard thing he had to do. Leave the defense of home world? Let everyone he had known die? It was intolerable.
"John," Fontaine said quietly, "Do it. For me."
Sheridan steeled himself, looked up at his commanding officer, and nodded.
"Activate Jump engines," Sheridan said, and Fontaine gave him a weary smile.
"The Lexington has escaped," the officer reported, to which Fontaine let out a sigh of relief.
"Weapons down to thirty percent," she said, "Life support is failing."
"Direct us towards the nearest ship," Fontaine said, "Give me ramming speed."
"Yes sir," she replied, and with a jolt, the cruiser began to pick up speed. Fontaine watched as the Minbari cruiser they were aimed at began to turn aside, trying to escape the suicidal humans as they streamed towards it. Gunfire from the cruiser raked the side of the Minbari cruiser, but it absorbed most of the damage without much damage actually being done.
Fontaine watched it as it slowly grew to cover the entire screen. That cruiser was a beast, that was for sure.
"Pleasure serving with you Lutienant," he remarked, as he watched the two ships collide. The last thing he saw was the fireball rushing towards him.
Sinclair had been wrong. There was still fighters out and about. Two such fighter flew near the atmosphere of Earth, plugging a gap that had opened between the Corsica and Dorchester. One pilot was Ganya, unable to get back to the Lexington before it had jumped. He had heard the order to Sheridan, and when Sheridan had tried to apologize to him, Ganya had told him not to worry, that he would go down fighting.
Three Minbari fighters dived towards the Dorchester. Ganya directed himself towards them, his wingman taking point. A fourth fighter flew into the area, but the pilot took him out. The fighter spiraled past him and began to fall into Earth's gravity pull, burning up as it was sucked down to Earth. How odd it looked; like a falling star.
"Mother Russia," his wingman said, "They've got the blindside of the Dorchester. Cover me."
"Right with you Swamp Gator," he said into his comm, following him in.
Indeed, the cruiser was sideways, firing at three different targets, which were slamming into its side with fighter fire and near misses. But, he was worried more about the fighters in front. One by one they knocked those birds out of the sky. Together they shot down the last ship, which vanished in an explosion like a star gone nova.
"We did it!" the wingman said, "That'll teach them. Now we ca-"
His fighter exploded, from the side. Ganya turned to see a whole other squadron enemy fighters bearing down on his position. He gulped and turned his fighter towards them, already knowing he was doomed.
Two human warships remained. But they realized the futility of longer struggle, so broke off to escape. The Grey Council watched this, their hearts heavy. Even the warmonger among them was glad they didn't have to kill every human. At least not yet. Floating carnage blanketed the entire space around, behind, and in front of them.
"All cruisers," Collen, the default head of the Council spoke out, the words being carried to every ship in the fleet, "Let any cruiser and ship currently escaping to escape. There has been enough blood shed already and more will need to be spilt before we finish the humans homeworld."
Any ship that had been following those ships turned aside. Deleen was kneeling on the ground, horrified. The losses were so massive, the amount of destruction so unimaginable. What did they have to do this for? What point was there?
"Now what do we do?" Shannar asked.
"We bomb the planet from orbit," Shalak growled, "You wanted blood. Here we shall have it. No waves of soldiers to fight the Earthers ground forces. We will just obliterate the cities, one by one, until nothing can live on this blue and white ball anymore."
"Is that really necessary?" Delenn asked from her position, "Why not accept the surrender of the humans?"
"Are you changing your vote?" Shannar demanded, "It was you who demanded we show no mercy. It was you who swayed this council's decision in the matter."
"Give us a reason not to," Collen said, "And we will not. If you cannot, then please, don't bother us. It only makes this harder to do."
"I can't stand around and watch this," she said, standing up and nearly running from the room.
One council member made to go to her side, but Collen shook his head, "Let her be. We should all feel as guilty as she does. We are on the verge of eliminating an entire species over a misunderstanding."
They seemed like pillars of light from heaven as they came down. But, the people still trying to escape on the all too few shuttles knew only too well what it was. These were no hosts from heaven. No angelic prophecies being brought to pass. If Hell had a face, this was it's messenger of death.
They cried. They wept. They prayed. They collected their little ones in a final, desperate hug. They surged towards transports, stampeding them. In some instances, the shuttles took off, only half full. Sometimes, they were so swamped that they were forced to take off, people right behind the thrusters, vaporizing them in a flash of flame and dark matter as the matter was burned away. Many people died in those panicked few seconds of life remaining because of thier own terror. And the lights came. Buildings exploded. Fires erupted. Air raid sirens blared out. Ships trying to escape were shot down, exploding. Homes, monuments, public buildings, they all met the same fate. Explosions of fire and flames rolled out like mini atomic bombs.
Within three minutes, seventeen percent off all the population centers on Earth had been flattened. Of the three billion who had still not escaped, less than a third of them still remained. And still, they kept firing. And riding around these beams, came the masses of Minbari fighters, flying down towards the planet to finish off as many as possible. And Earth's very last defenses, it's ground-to-air batteries, opened fire in a last desperate effort to save the innocent.
Delenn had walked, her grief blinded her to where she was going. Her feet drew her on a journey of it's own designs. Where she went, she could not tell. She had collided into several people, not seeing them through the tears that blurred her vision. She did not know how long she had walked, but when she finally was able to get some control over herself, she was standing in a room.
Not just any room. But Dukhat's sanctuary. His room he had lived in during his stay in this life. She walked over to a couch, and sat on it with her fingers intertwined, clasped infront of her. She could barely think, barely feel. Her guilt at this holocaust was drowning her.
"Pebble, what have you done?" a voice asked.
She started, and glanced over. And saw first the hems of robes. She glanced up, and saw it was not a robe. It was an encounter suit. A Vorlon, orange and brown stood infront of her. In Valen's name, a Vorlon!
"I have sinned," she said quietly.
"Yes," the Vorlon said.
She looked at him, blinking back a new wave of tears. "Is there a way to atone? To stop the madness?"
"The Way is shown to those who are willing to follow," the Vorlon said.
Sinclair snapped awake, his head pounding like a Drazi brothel on Saturday night. A fighter had blazed past his ship so close that it had clipped his fighter and he had smacked his head against his helmet. Blood was smeared on the visor. He pulled the helmet off, and moving as he felt through water whipped away the blood.
"Computer," he said, as he put the helmet back on over his head, "How long was I unconscious?"
"30 minutes," the computer reported.
30 minutes. "Can we make it to the jump gate?" he asked.
"Insufficient power."
"Alright," he muttered, "Can we make it to an enemy cruiser and attack it?"
"Insufficient power to fire weapons."
"Divert as much power as possible to the engines," he ordered, "Put us on a collision course."
"Confirmed."
Delenn walked back out to the Council chamber, whose members continued to watch the continuing bombardment. She could see even from their high orbit shockwaves of explosions as the rippled through the planetary surface. She looked at each of the Council members in turn. Shock, disgust and self-hatred could be seen on all their faces. The guilt of all the dead would be on their heads. The innocent, the guilty, the infirmed, the elderly, none if any would escape the planetary bombardment alive. Blood of the innocent, upon their heads.
"Stop this," Delenn said, her voice carrying a great authority with it.
The Council turned to her. They raised stunned eyebrows towards her. The authority they had heard had been greater then had ever been spoken. Not even Dukhat had spoken with such authority.
"Why?" Collen asked after a second, "Why should we?"
"Are we so prideful and so removed from our consciences we are unable to be merciful?" she demanded, striding into the middle of the group, her hair flowing behind her, "Yes, there are humans still down there. But, will we have the death of an entire race on our hands?"
"Is there anything worth saving though?" Shalak asked, "Prove that to us."
Delenn turned around, looking at the destroyed fighters. She spotted a single Starfury, being driven at ramming speed towards their cruiser. She pointed to it.
"See him?" she demanded, "Bring him in and we shall see."