Chapter 1 - "The First Piece of Advice"

Well, I held out as long as I could.  When "Babylon 5" premiered, I immediately dismissed it, being a good Trekker, and proceeded to ignore it for four years.  Then I started seeing the promos on TNT, and hey-- I was looking for something to watch at 7 o'clock.  It took just a couple of episodes and it was all over.  Now I've got yet another place to play, and yet another story that may never be finished.  But who cares?

As far as this story goes, I've tried (and will try) to keep from stepping on whatever JMS decides to do with his creation.  No doubt there'll be plenty of things in this that will contradict things like the last episode, "Sleeping in the Light," the movie "Thirdspace," and the coming series "Crusade."  But, that's not for mere mortals like us to worry about while we can't do anything about it.  Set eighteen years or so after the end of the series, the main character is David Sheridan, and... well, just read on.

“The Babylon Project: Legacy” : "And So It Begins..."

Chapter 1 - "The First Piece of Advice"

by Eric R. Umali

“The time is 1130 hours,” announced the soft, even voice of the computer.  Groaning, the figure laying in bed shifted, then swung his legs to the deck.  He pushed himself off of the sharply angled bed and stood, wondering what he’d been thinking to volunteer for night duty.

“Lights,” he said softly, “50 percent.”  The lights slowly came up to a dim glow.

Shuffling to the modest dresser on the other side of the room, he began to lay out the brown and tan pieces of his uniform and dress.  First were the loose-fitting trousers and long-sleeved shirt with a cowl collar, and then the tunic belted over them.  He tucked the trousers into his short boots.

The second-to-last piece of the uniform was the long sleeveless “duster,” as he’d heard it called.  It fitted snugly over the young man’s shoulders, then draped past his knees.

Finally, he picked up the small, shining pin from the dresser’s top and looked over it closely.  The center was a blue-green ellipsoid jewel, known as “Isil’Zha,” in a golden setting.  The metal was shaped into a pair of figures, surrounding the jewel, and entwining at the center.  “Symbolizing the two halves of our souls joining as one,” he was told when he’d received it.

*Something familiar about _that_ idea,* he mused.

He raised the lights to full, then stood before the mirror, carefully placing the pin on the duster’s right side.  The young man stared at his reflection.

On first inspection, the features still held most of the exuberance and idealism of his scant seventeen years.  Looking deeper, though, his eyes told a story of struggle and hardship, and of great loss.  Most of those tiny lines and hollowness were placed there just two years before.

He looked at the chronograph.  It had taken him ten minutes to dress, but he still had just enough time to pass by the mess area and grab a cup of tea before reporting for bridge duty.  He turned again to the mirror, and roughly ran his fingers through the thick shock of dark brown hair, cut carefully around the bone crest that ran from one temple to the other.

Satisfied with the crude combing, Anla’shok trainee David John Sheridan left his quarters.

**********

Now he remembered why he’d taken the graveyard shift.

Walking through the corridors of White Star 104 at this time of night always calmed David down.

Everything was deathly quiet except for the low humming and buzzing of the ship’s systems.   Sometimes, early in the morning, David could swear he even felt the tug of the ship’s acceleration.

David stopped.  His temples began to throb, and a dull ache took up residence in the back of his skull.  Gently, he rubbed at his forehead and temples, and began to relax both mind and body.  Soon, the ache subsided, and David was on his way again.

He’d gotten only a few meters when the pain returned tenfold, a lancing pain that doubled him over.  David fell heavily to the hard metal deck, gasping for breath.

He fought the pain, trying to force it out, and was actually doing well, but there was something more to the attack than pain.  There was a sudden hollowness to his chest– a crippling feeling of loss swept through him, more intense than he’d ever known.

David had just enough time to register a few fleeting sensations: the soft padding of approaching footsteps, and the sensation of someone standing above him, haloed in bright, golden light, before a curtain was dropped over his vision.

**********

The sun was rising.  The muted golden light sparkled and shone off the beautiful, fragile-looking buildings of Tuzanor.  David stood, still in uniform, on a balcony, watching the sunrise.

David knew this balcony.  He’d stood on it thousands of times before.  It was the one at his family’s home in Tuzanor, on Minbar– the balcony and the view that his parents loved so much.

*Tuzanor?  What am I doing home?* he wondered.  “How did I get here?”

“You’re not here,” answered a gruff, but warm voice from behind him.

David spun.  “Dad?!”

John J. Sheridan, ex-EarthForce captain, ex-President of the Interstellar Alliance and current Entil’Zha of the Anla’shok, stood in the doorway, his arms open.  John’s wide, warm smile brightened the tough, lined face and the gray hair and beard.

David rushed forward and embraced his father.  “Dad, what’s going on, I–“  He stopped, and took a step back.  John Sheridan was wearing the striking black “rebel” uniform of his renegade Babylon 5 days– David recognized it from historical records, and had seen it in storage– instead of the Anla’shok uniform he wore as leader of the Rangers.

“Dad, what’s going on?  One minute, I’m on the White Star, and then I’m here.  What do you mean, I’m not here?”

John’s eyes passed over the tall, lean figure of his son.  “I haven’t got a lot of time to explain, son, and I’m sorry for that.”  His voice was softer than David knew it, and he seemed very tired.  John grasped his son’s arms.  “Do you know what day it is?”

David nodded.  “It’s the twenty-fifth of January, 2281.  For you, it’d be… Sunday.  But what–“  He stopped again.

The realization hit him harder than any blow in battle, any injury.  His father and mother told him that it would be twenty years, and it had crossed his mind as his eighteenth birthday approached, but he never really believed it.  He shook his head, trying to clear it.  His mouth moved, but no sound came.  Finally, he managed a few words.

“Oh, no… In Valen’s name, no.  Dad, it can’t be–“

“I’m afraid it is, David.  I did what I could to prepare you for this, but I never wanted you to burden yourself with it.”

“I want to say that things like this just don’t happen, but after what I’ve done and seen myself, I can’t.”  He looked at his father.  “So if I’m not here, where are you?  At home?”

“No, I’m not.  I’m– well, your mother will tell you.  It’s not that important.  What is important is that I’ve been given a little time to say goodbye.”

“Dad, no–“

“Let me do this, son.”  John took a deep breath.  “I wanted to tell you that there hasn’t been a moment since you were born that I wasn’t proud of you.  You’ve gotten all the best that your mother and I, and our two worlds, could give you.”  He laughed.  “Mostly from Delenn, I’m glad to say.”

“You’ve given me plenty, Dad.  You’ve taught me about courage and perseverance– about honor… about sacrifice.”

“When did I do all that?”

“Just by living, Dad.  I studied the histories.  Hell, Dad, I even lived some of it– everything that led up to Centauri Prime…”

“All right.”  John coughed several times, prompting David to support him.  John looked up into David’s eyes.  “There are so many things I want to tell you.”

“Well, you’ve got my undivided attention.”

John started for one of the benches, and David helped him sit.  The older man looked out at the rising sun.  “Do you remember that time when you were ten?  You came home with the biggest bump on your head–“

“I remember.  There was a bully at school, and I tried to keep him from taking a swing at one of my friends.  He called me a ‘half-breed,’ and I let him have it.”

“Do you remember what I told you when you got home?”

David nodded.  “It was the very first piece of advice you ever gave me.  You said, ‘never start a fight, but always finish it.’  Why?”

“That was the very first piece of advice my father gave me.  I’ve lived by those words my whole life.  I want you to do the same.”

“I promise, Dad.  I’ll try to be the man you want me to be, one you can be proud of.  The kind of man you’ve always been.”

“A father couldn’t ask for anything more,” said John.  “I love you, David.  I love you very much.”  The great man’s voice began to falter.  “Delenn has something for you when you get home.  I know you’ll keep making both of us very proud for a long, long time, and that one day, you’ll wear the Entil’Zha’s robe.  I can’t think of anyone who would wear it better.”

Father took son into his arms once more.  “I want you to know that I’ll always be with you and your mother.  Always.”

John stood.  “Goodbye, David.”

David sniffed, and wiped at the tears warming his cheeks.  “Goodbye, Dad.”

The vision faded, and David slipped into sleep again.

TO BE CONTINUED…