Re: Early (a fanfic by Phil...please read!)
Chapter 6
Hail-Mary
The young crew of The Drugann had seen more death in the past three hours than most retired generals. Bloodied and beaten, their original meager ranks had been cut in half. They silently stared at each other, some nervous, some terrified, all proud. Some of their uniforms were in tatters, others were splattered with crimson blood. But they waited. Gathered in the massive hanger, in the very belly of the prototype, they waited in Valen's name. In order, one by one, they fell into line. Surrounding them, some of the most advanced fighters in the galaxy. Many of the Rangers had flown only in sims. Some of the fighters lay strewn about on the ash-colored floor, many of the other fighters were visibly damaged. But the Rangers stood tall. They brushed off their brown vests, and clasped their hands behind their backs. They awaited greatness personified. They lived for the one, they died for the one.
As the large door to the great chamber opened slowly and timidly, Sinclair calmly entered, flanked by Trulann. The remaining Rangers bowed. Sinclair raised his hand in appreciation, but motioned for them to stop. He had something to say. Sinclair gently lifted the tarnished hood, revealing his gray hair, speckled with ash, and red, and his bloodied, yet unbowed face. With his compassionate gaze, he seemingly looked at each Ranger, separately, yet all at once. His stare gave them strength and confidence and the knowledge that their life stood for something greater--something that even the Entil'zha could not yet comprehend. Everything that had been said about Entil'zha they now knew was true. With one look, the young Rangers knew they stood in front of greatness. Sinclair stopped suddenly, and let his head fall. He rubbed his brow, and then began what he knew would be one of the last voices these young Rangers would even hear.
"Taralenn II has one chance here. Us. If all goes as plan, we'll be able to distract the Earth Force ship long enough for Trulann to send a signal down to the planet, telling them that their only hope failed in one catastrophic explosion. Hopefully, some will be able to get the hell out of there. Hopefully. I'm not going to lie here and say that thirty fighters are going to be able to bring that monster down--because they can't. We can't. But we can try to save as many innocent Minbari as we can, and even if only a thousand escape to safety, it'll be worth it. Trulann told me you all know how to pilot these things," Sinclair's hand swept around the chamber,"you're all probably better than I. Hell, I only had a few months training on Minbar, so I know you're better. But before we go, you need to realize that I'm not expecting any of to make it back--but I am expecting us to go down in one hell-of-a blaze of glory. In Valen's name." Sinclair's head bowed down as the other Rangers echoed his final words.
"In Valen's name," the Rangers responded quietly yet proudly. After a moment of silence, the Rangers looked up one more time to their mentor, and then turned and quickly hurried to their fighters.
Sinclair watched the young recruits slide, headfirst into their compact fighters. He then turned to Trulann, and softly rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Its been an honor, Trulann. Truly."
"It is strange Entil'zha. I no longer see you as a human. I see you as more than that...something greater."
"I don't know whether to take that insult or a complement Trulann, but I'll take it nonetheless." With that Sinclair smiled. Trulann had never once let him down, and there was no doubt in his mind that as long as he lived, he never would.
Trulann made a strange nod, almost as if he was holding something back and then turned around, and slowly walked away to find a fighter.
Sinclair found one of the only fighters still unoccupied in a littered corner, and cautiously slid in. He always had found Minbari fighters uncomfortable in the sims, but the real things were even more dreadful. Claustrophobic, dimly lit, and hard to control, the Minbari fighter was one piece of technology that Sinclair had always shied away from. He was beginning to wish he had taken Trulann's offer and stayed on the bridge.
One by one, the fighters shot from the mouth of the helpless Drugann, until they had all taken position in front of the motionless ship. The twenty-seven fighters took position, creating a vertical square of ships. Silently, they waited for orders; in front of them, the ice-blue planet of Tarelenn II, and somewhere, cloaked in the planets shadow the Earth Force monster lay in wait, repairing, preparing.
Chapter 6
Hail-Mary
The young crew of The Drugann had seen more death in the past three hours than most retired generals. Bloodied and beaten, their original meager ranks had been cut in half. They silently stared at each other, some nervous, some terrified, all proud. Some of their uniforms were in tatters, others were splattered with crimson blood. But they waited. Gathered in the massive hanger, in the very belly of the prototype, they waited in Valen's name. In order, one by one, they fell into line. Surrounding them, some of the most advanced fighters in the galaxy. Many of the Rangers had flown only in sims. Some of the fighters lay strewn about on the ash-colored floor, many of the other fighters were visibly damaged. But the Rangers stood tall. They brushed off their brown vests, and clasped their hands behind their backs. They awaited greatness personified. They lived for the one, they died for the one.
As the large door to the great chamber opened slowly and timidly, Sinclair calmly entered, flanked by Trulann. The remaining Rangers bowed. Sinclair raised his hand in appreciation, but motioned for them to stop. He had something to say. Sinclair gently lifted the tarnished hood, revealing his gray hair, speckled with ash, and red, and his bloodied, yet unbowed face. With his compassionate gaze, he seemingly looked at each Ranger, separately, yet all at once. His stare gave them strength and confidence and the knowledge that their life stood for something greater--something that even the Entil'zha could not yet comprehend. Everything that had been said about Entil'zha they now knew was true. With one look, the young Rangers knew they stood in front of greatness. Sinclair stopped suddenly, and let his head fall. He rubbed his brow, and then began what he knew would be one of the last voices these young Rangers would even hear.
"Taralenn II has one chance here. Us. If all goes as plan, we'll be able to distract the Earth Force ship long enough for Trulann to send a signal down to the planet, telling them that their only hope failed in one catastrophic explosion. Hopefully, some will be able to get the hell out of there. Hopefully. I'm not going to lie here and say that thirty fighters are going to be able to bring that monster down--because they can't. We can't. But we can try to save as many innocent Minbari as we can, and even if only a thousand escape to safety, it'll be worth it. Trulann told me you all know how to pilot these things," Sinclair's hand swept around the chamber,"you're all probably better than I. Hell, I only had a few months training on Minbar, so I know you're better. But before we go, you need to realize that I'm not expecting any of to make it back--but I am expecting us to go down in one hell-of-a blaze of glory. In Valen's name." Sinclair's head bowed down as the other Rangers echoed his final words.
"In Valen's name," the Rangers responded quietly yet proudly. After a moment of silence, the Rangers looked up one more time to their mentor, and then turned and quickly hurried to their fighters.
Sinclair watched the young recruits slide, headfirst into their compact fighters. He then turned to Trulann, and softly rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Its been an honor, Trulann. Truly."
"It is strange Entil'zha. I no longer see you as a human. I see you as more than that...something greater."
"I don't know whether to take that insult or a complement Trulann, but I'll take it nonetheless." With that Sinclair smiled. Trulann had never once let him down, and there was no doubt in his mind that as long as he lived, he never would.
Trulann made a strange nod, almost as if he was holding something back and then turned around, and slowly walked away to find a fighter.
Sinclair found one of the only fighters still unoccupied in a littered corner, and cautiously slid in. He always had found Minbari fighters uncomfortable in the sims, but the real things were even more dreadful. Claustrophobic, dimly lit, and hard to control, the Minbari fighter was one piece of technology that Sinclair had always shied away from. He was beginning to wish he had taken Trulann's offer and stayed on the bridge.
One by one, the fighters shot from the mouth of the helpless Drugann, until they had all taken position in front of the motionless ship. The twenty-seven fighters took position, creating a vertical square of ships. Silently, they waited for orders; in front of them, the ice-blue planet of Tarelenn II, and somewhere, cloaked in the planets shadow the Earth Force monster lay in wait, repairing, preparing.
