I've been digging through my documents folder (which, at 14 GB is not an easy task) and found the opening of a story my friends challenged me to. Did it, lost interest soon after writing the opening and a scene or two ... so did my friends and it's been lying buried on my hard-drive for some time.
It seems that my memory is faulty, though and the above idea I'd posted isn't the real thing. The actual opening is present here and follows a different pattern.
As a warning, it's a Star Wars crossover and, as is usual for me, starts at the ending rather than the beginning of it all. Similarly, it's more concerned with the exploration of the cultural and social architecture of the Galactic Republic to the detriment of everything except, perhaps, the plot.
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Pride was something Tayd Idarian could understand. After all, he was of the Core Worlds, a Coruscani and an officer of the Galactic Republic. Pride was something he understood very well, like most citizens of that Republic that had existed for a thousand generations.
He could understand the depths it could drive people to, the self-destructive, slippery slope that proud civilizations set themselves upon.
But still, he would never part with his pride for anything. As a native of a world that had united the galaxy. An officer of that power and a man of the Core Worlds from which galactic civilization emerged, pride was very much the core of his being.
So, he could understand the defiant stances of the Minbari representatives as they sought desperately to cling to what little pride they had left. Their proud Federation was gone, their fleet shattered, their homeworld reduced to rubble and their civilization had nearly been extinguished in the short and vicious war.
And Tayd pitied them. They couldn't even stand there and say: 'we fought well'. Because they didn't. The Republic fleets, Tayd's among them, crashed upon the Minbari Federation like a tide. Each Republic ship capable of outfighting a dozen Minbari warships and for each warship the Minbari fielded the Republic sent twenty.
They couldn't stand there and say: 'we met our fate calmly and with dignity' because, at the end, even the proud Minbari begged for mercy as the horrifying green lances of death began to rain upon their cities leaving ashes and dust in their wake.
All they could do is stand there, before the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, the President of the Earth Alliance and the representatives of every power in known space and bear their shame with what little dignity they had left.
Tayd did, indeed pity them and it only seemed to make the hate in the eyes of the Minbari representatives worse when they glanced at him. Tayd Bloodletter they called him, for his crimson uniform and crimson ships that looked as if they were covered with blood. Butcher of Minbar they named him, for his was the voice that ordered the start of the orbital bombardment of a beaten enemy.
Tayd accepted it simply. He was an officer, sworn to protect the Republic, the people and civilization. The Minbari were barbarians, willing to commit genocide over nothing at all. That was all there was to it. Admiral Tayd Idarian had fulfilled his orders to the letter, did his duty proudly and the lives of Minbari, some tiny, young, insignificant species didn't matter to him at all.
It was hard to comprehend anyway. The Earth Alliance ambassador, Victor Tenenbaum had once remarked that one of Earth's tyrants had said: 'a single death is a tragedy, a million: a statistic'. Tayd didn't care for the Minbari because they were just numbers to him and he didn't know whether to feel disgusted with himself or relieved that he couldn't comprehend the totality of his actions.
The cold, refined tones of the Supreme Chancellor attracted his attention. She was outlining the terms the Republic had set forth for the Minbari Federation. It was a mere formality, an act of magnanimity on the side of the Republic because they didn't need to notify the Minbari of the terms. Still, the Republic did so, politely, formally, parading the remnants of Minbari government before the representatives and exposing their defeat and shame for all to see.
Even the Supreme Chancellor was different, standing in the robes of her office. Voice like the eternal winter of Ziost and features cold and hard as if cast from durasteel. There was no trace of the animated, idealistic Zianna Dall in that speaker. There was only the Supreme Chancellor, the voice of a thousand generations of civilization and the speaker in the name of the Senate and the People of the Galactic Republic.
Arrogance and pride beyond what the Minbari could comprehend, but unlike that of the Minbari, earned and justified as none could stand against the might of the Republic. In twenty five thousand years many tried, none succeeded.
He caught her glancing in his direction, but Tayd didn't allow himself to respond, merely sending wordless encouragement with his eyes, a trick Coruscani high society had mastered a long time ago.
Tayd returned to watching the faces of the Minbari as the terms were outlined to them. Nothing less than the end of the Minbari Federation. They were defeated, even if their stances were as tall and proud as they had been when they entered the chamber.
He didn't feel guilt for his actions. Zianna did, but Tayd didn't.
All had gone according to plan, the war had kicked the Republic into action, started the inexorable shift that would end with the painful reforms that would allow the Galactic Republic to reverse the slow death that had been plaguing it since the Ruusan Reformation. The Earth Alliance had stepped forward and requested membership in the Republic and a new galaxy of opportunity had been opened.
And if a single, proud, arrogant species had to pay the price for the salvation of everything Tayd stood for, then he would gladly butcher every last Minbari with his own two hands. And the soldiers and officers of the Galactic Republic would be there, by his side the whole way.
For the pride of the Coruscani and the Core Worlds. For the honour of the Starfleet and the Army. For the legacy of a twenty five thousand years of unity and justice.
Tayd's crimes were great. Conspiring to drag the Republic into a war. Engineering said war's beginning. Bringing an entire species to the brink of extinction. Bombardment of civilian and defenceless targets. But, for the pride and the joy of seeing the Republic he loved survive, he would do it all over again without hesitation.
No, Tayd Idarian felt no guilt at all. For as long as the Bendu circle on the flags of the Galactic Republic flew high, Tayd wouldn't feel guilty in the slightest.