by Richard Ford
Vance was silent, not even nodding his acknowledgment of Merreck’s unspoken challenge. If this was what the Minbari wanted, then he would get it. He’d show this alien what EarthForce was made of.
‘One pair at a time will enter the combat area.’ Durhan gestured to the circular area at the front of the hall. The crash mats back at his EarthForce base seemed much softer. ‘I believe the Earth term is “freestyle combat”. Remember, this is simply to gauge your rudimentary skills at unarmed combat. I want no accidents. Now, who is first?’
Merreck stepped forward instantly. Vance, not wanting to look hesitant, stepped up beside him.
‘Good,’ said Durhan. ‘Step into the combat area.’ He led the two trainees into the marked circle. An intricate pattern that wound in and out of itself decorated the floor. ‘Remember,’ continued Durhan, ‘no grudges remain beyond the limits of the circle. Combat between Anla’shok is here and here alone.’
Vance stared back at Merreck, trying to match the Minbari’s intensity. It wasn’t easy. ‘Begin!’ snapped Durhan, stepping back and out of the circle.
Merreck was several feet away, so Vance didn’t think it necessary to raise his guard until he knew what attack the Minbari might make. He had little knowledge of Warrior Caste combat styles, and the Minbari had never been generous enough to share their combat knowledge with EarthForce. First-hand accounts from soldiers in the Minbari War identified the Warrior Caste as being fast, deadly and almost unnaturally strong.
For several seconds they faced each other down. Many of the trainees shuffled uncomfortably, but Durhan looked on, fascinated by the match.
Vance grew impatient. After all, how quick could the Minbari be? He decided a low attack would be best under the circumstances. A quick combination of kicks and punches should allow him to test Merreck’s defences. Before he could move six inches, Merreck covered the space between them. His right hand snaked forward, quicker than Vance could see it, let alone stop it. The jab to Vance’s solar plexus stopped him dead. A swinging, flat-palmed blow to his jaw forced him to one knee.
Vance’s training took over and allowed him to roll away. He dropped to his left shoulder, kicking out with his right foot. As he sprang to his feet, Merreck waited for him. The roll took less than a second, but the Minbari had anticipated the move and repositioned himself accordingly.
Vance lifted both arms, fists clenched, covering the sides of his head against any potential blows. He brought his right leg up as a guard against kicks. Two quick and painful jabs to the abdomen breached what Vance thought were his impenetrable defences. He lashed out blindly, but Merreck had moved behind him. Vance only realised it after he was struck in the back of the knee. He went down, trying to turn as he fell. At least if he could see where Merreck was, he might be able to put up a better defence. By the time he turned, Merreck was on him, one leg pinning his right arm. Vance tried to strike with his free hand but Merreck blocked him, grasping his wrist with impossible and certainly inhuman strength, forcing his one remaining free limb back behind his head. The Minbari leaned in close, his free hand raised, palm flat. He struck at Vance’s gut, but his blow stopped millimetres from the target. With a quick flick, he twisted his hand ninety degrees. Vance guessed he was signifying the twist of a knife.
‘No human has ever defeated a Minbari in hand-to-hand combat,’ spat Merreck, making no attempt to mask his disdain. Vance had never felt so helpless in his years since entering EarthForce. He was accustomed to being the victor.
‘Enough,’ shouted Durhan. At the order of the Anla’shok master, Merreck obediently released Vance, finding his feet in an instant. Vance slowly rose, flexing his leg as it began to ache from Merreck’s blow.
‘Next two,’ said Durhan, motioning towards another pair.
Vance limped back toward the crowd of trainees and found himself standing next to William, who wore a wide smile plastered across his face. ‘Well,’ he said, still beaming, ‘that wasn’t so bad, was it?’
Vance looked over at Merreck, who stared forward, impassively. Somehow, Vance knew his defeat in a sparring bout would not be enough to pacify the Minbari. Did all Warrior Caste hate humans this much? Or was this Merreck a special case?
The next--and thankfully final--class of the day was philosophy. Vance didn’t hear much of what was taught, failing to remember even the name of the philosophy tutor. He was too busy consoling himself at his defeat. It wasn’t the fact that he’d been beaten, as even Vance could not win every bout. But Merreck had beaten his defences so quickly, cutting off his every chance to even attempt a counterstrike.
Vance went over the bout in his head again and again, trying to think of what went wrong. Obviously his impatience was one major factor, but even so he hadn’t been able to implement his first sequence of attacks, nor mount any successful counters to Merreck’s attacks. Further evaluation would have to wait. Merreck would certainly not be satisfied with Vance’s humiliation, so there would be more opportunities to face off against the Minbari.
By the time he stopped dwelling on the combat, the philosophy session was well under way. Vance expected to see a list of great Minbari prophets and their teachings, but this class seemed to keep focusing on three simple tenets: delight, respect and compassion. After combat training, the last thing Vance expected was this. Would there be much room for compassion after learning to stalk in the shadows and kill without being seen? Were they supposed to delight in their victories? Respect he could understand, as he already had an uncompromising and painfully learned respect for Minbari martial prowess, but the place of the other tenets in the life of a Ranger seemed to be a mystery.
At the end of the session, Vance felt none the wiser. Never the most academically inclined recruit, he believed in working hard to gain knowledge as needed. Philosophy was a whole new experience for him, but he could see from the avid looks on the other trainees’ faces that this was their bread and butter.
When the tutor excused them from their lesson, several recruits looked ready to pass out. Before they reached their quarters, the biggest Minbari Vance had ever seen approached. He was obviously Anla’shok, and he did not bow or give any sign of greeting; he simply barred Vance’s way.
‘Initiate Vance,’ said the Ranger, his voice a deep rumble. ‘The Anla’shok Na wishes to speak with you.’ Just what he needed: beaten, confused and now about to be grilled by the top dog.
Jeff Sinclair’s office was bereft of any trinkets, memorabilia or anything that could be described as home comforts. He sat behind a simple desk in a bare room, poring over a number of files. Vance could see these contained background information on current and potential recruits.
‘Please, take a seat,’ said Sinclair, smiling warmly at Vance. From everything he had heard of the legend that was Commander Sinclair, Vance expected a much different man. ‘We never got to talk before your entry into the Anla’shok. Now that you’re here, I think this is as good a time as any for us to get acquainted.’
Vance sat down in the chair opposite Sinclair. ‘So, how have you found your first day? Was it what you expected?’ Sinclair asked, seeming genuinely interested.
There was silence, as Vance thought of the best answer. After some deliberation, he felt the truth would be the best policy in this strange and awkward situation. ‘I didn’t really have time to expect anything, sir. I was more or less press-ganged by my father into joining. As for my first day, it’s been an experience I think I’ll never forget.’
Sinclair gave a curious frown. Vance instantly regretted his rather ambiguous answer. ‘Well, I’m afraid the nature of your arrival is mostly my fault. I asked for a favour from your father, and your presence is the result. I know this will be hard for you, but you’ve got to believe me when I say this is probably the most important thing you’ll ever do, for Earth and for the galaxy itself
‘With all due respect, sir, I’ve already heard this from my father. If it’s so important that I do this, why does it feel like I’m not welcome
?’
‘Yes,’ said Sinclair, looking a little sheepish. Vance couldn’t imagine him adopting this demeanour very often. ‘The incident in the combat training hall. Certain Minbari aren’t receptive to human involvement in the Anla’shok, particularly Durhan. You may need to work very hard to convince him you are worthy to wear that uniform.’
‘I know. And if it’s any consolation, neither did I. Some things we simply have to do, no matter how unappreciated they make us feel.’ Sinclair stood and crossed his office to look out of the single stained glass window. The light that shone in bathed his face in a soft radiant glow, making him seem somewhat otherworldly.
‘You have the potential to be one of the best recruits we have. Your military training far outstrips the other trainees, even the other Minbari.’ Vance thought about Merreck for a moment, doubting Sinclair’s claim. ‘Even if they can best you in hand-to-hand,’ said Sinclair turning, as though reading Vance’s mind, ‘your skills are valuable, but they alone will not qualify you to be a Ranger. I hope before long you will develop the rest of the skills you’ll need to succeed.’
‘And what might they be?’ asked Vance, unsure of what Sinclair was getting at.
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He walked back to his seat. Again, a silence filled the room, this time somewhat uncomfortably, for Vance at least. ‘Is there anything you need while you’re here? I’ve been trying to address human dietary requirements, but the Minbari tend to be a little slow in acquiescing to any demands they don’t classify as crucial.’
‘No, sir. Although the sleeping arrangements are going to be a little tough to get used to.’
‘Now that I understand,’ said Sinclair. ‘Unfortunately all the trainees have to be treated the same in this regard. I have already broken Anla’shok tradition by having the audacity to be human. If I tried to cast aside any more of their customs, I’d have more trouble than I could handle.’
He laughed, and so did Vance, for the first time since he’d left EarthForce. In the cloistered confines of the Minbari building, it felt odd. Vance liked the sound and the feeling.
‘Is there anything else?’ asked Sinclair
‘No, sir. I think that covers it.’
‘Good. If there’s anything you need, you know where I am.’ Sinclair stood and offered his hand. Vance stood and shook it, feeling a little strange. He had just shaken hands with the legendary Commander Sinclair, on the Minbari homeworld, dressed in a Minbari uniform as a recruit for their elite forces.
It had been one hell of a day, and Vance could only imagine what the morning would bring.
The Mark of Darkness
By the next morning Vance had already adjusted to the shorter days on Minbar. A hundred different exercises on a hundred different planets with EarthForce made it easy for him to acclimatise. Most of the other human recruits weren’t finding it quite as easy. A Minbari day lasted only twenty hours and forty-seven minutes, which meant on average the Minbari needed only five hours of sleep to perform for the rest of the day. Most of the humans appeared to enjoy around eight hours on average--many of them exhibiting the profound desire to indulge in much more. Over the next few days, Vance predicted, five hours would be a luxury.
As the day before, morning found the robed figure slowly proceeding through their dorm, ringing his bell. Vance’s night on the forty-five-degree bed proved slightly more peaceful. He rose and, with his fellow trainees, gave praise to Valen in the usual way. This time, though, they did not proceed straight to breakfast. Instead, Turval waited for them in the hall of meditation.
Instinctively the Minbari recruits took positions in front of the senior Ranger, with the human recruits following suit. When all was silent, Turval gave a fatherly smile, surveying the initiates before him. ‘You have now experienced a small taste of the rigors and breadth of Anla’shok training. The Anla’shok Na deems this knowledge very important. You need to know what will be required of you in the coming weeks.’
Vance found the title “Anla’shok Na” strange when used to describe a man like Sinclair. Meeting the man had opened his eyes to how down-to-earth he was. Such an alien and reverential title didn’t seem to fit.
‘Now your training will truly begin,’ continued Turval. ‘You will be required to reflect, for a time, on the life you leave behind and the life you are about to begin. During this period, some of you may decide the Anla’shok is not part of your future. For those of you who choose that path, there is no shame. You can leave freely and find safe passage to anywhere you wish. Whether you go now or later during your training, however, we cannot allow you to leave with the knowledge you now have of the Anla’shok and our academy. If any of you leave, the memory of what you have experienced so far will be taken from your mind.’
A long pause followed. Nobody moved, as though all the initiates needed to prove their steadfast resolve. Turval’s pause seemed to go on and on. All Vance could think about was a memory wipe. The only mind wipes he knew were performed on criminals who suffered Death of Personality. He’d never heard of it being used so precisely and couldn’t imagine how the Minbari could erase a specific time period from someone’s head.
‘Good,’ said Turval, as though he expected some of the trainees to bow out then and there. ‘Your meditation will now begin.’
One by one, every recruit in the room adopted the meditative posture learned the day before. Vance found it easier to fall into a reflective state today. He let his mind calm itself, filling with well-being and positive energy. He would have never believed mediation could come this easily to him.
An hour passed, then two. None of the recruits had eaten, and stomachs began to rumble. They hadn’t exactly feasted the day before either. Although the Minbari gruel was undoubtedly nutritious, it did little to satisfy any kind of appetite. The hours crawled by, and the longer Vance adopted his position without food or water, the longer the day seemed to take.
By mid-afternoon, a robed figure--probably the Minbari who woke them in the morning--entered bearing a large crystal urn. One by one he approached each recruit, ladling a measure of water into their thirsty mouths. When Vance tasted his, he found the tepid water still managed to quench his raging thirst.
They meditated for four more hours by Vance’s reckoning. Various methods of keeping time without a watch had been part of his training in EarthForce and, even when meditating, he assumed he was pretty close with his calculations.
‘Enough,’ said Turval. An audible sigh of relief escaped from several recruits, all of them human. ‘Please return to your quarters,’ he said, motioning towards the door. The recruits filed out, some of them walking rather stiffly. Vance was one of them.
When they reached the dorm, the robed water bearer was there once more. He quietly padded out of the room after ensuring everyone received a sip. Vance lay down straight away, as did most of the Minbari. Once again he took the opportunity to rest, since future opportunities might be scarce. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would wash over him when he heard a voice in his ear.
‘Minbari mind wipe?’ He recognised William’s voice immediately. Despite his annoyance at being disturbed, he was relieved it wasn’t Merreck spouting his threats again.
‘What about it?’ said Vance, his eyes still closed.
‘Well, do you think it’ll be safe?’
‘Why, are you expecting to fail?’ asked Vance, opening one eye.
William tried to look casual, but failed miserably. ‘No, but... well, you never know.’
‘Don’t sweat it. You’ll do just fine.’
There was a pause as though William was considering his chances. ‘But what if….’ he began.
‘William! Get some rest.’
Vance closed his eyes. Before long the sound of shuffling feet diminished until everyone was on a slanting bed. Vance never imagined a day of meditation could be so tiring.
He woke to the sound of his stomach growling and the now-regular chiming of the robed Minbari’s instru
ment. Once again they bypassed the mess hall and headed straight for the meditation chamber. Turval waited placidly, and he told them to sit when they entered. Just as the day before, they were given no food and little water as they meditated. By the end of the session, most of the other human trainees looked ready to drop. Strangely the Minbari looked hardly affected, their stern, proud demeanours unruffled by the fasting and meditating.
That night as they returned to the dorm, nobody spoke. The short-sharp-shock element of their training actually pleased Vance, whose military training left him accustomed to such harsh tactics in dealing with new recruits. It would certainly show the non-military trainees what they were letting themselves in for. Maybe weed out the weak. Torturous conditions to test the mental resolve of recruits was something he could understand.
The rumbling in Vance’s stomach had subsided, leaving just a dull ache. Sometimes he hadn’t eaten for a week while out on manoeuvres, so the sensation wasn’t new, but that didn’t help. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew this training was far from complete.
Day three brought the same story: no breakfast and straight to the meditation chamber. Turval was there once more, and this time he didn’t need to beckon the trainees to their places.
This time, before they sat, one of the human recruits approached Turval. They spoke in hushed tones for several seconds and Turval nodded solemnly. Vance didn’t recognise the recruit--he hadn’t yet had a chance to speak with him--but he saw in the young man’s eyes that the fasting and meditation had gotten to him already. Turval motioned towards the exit, where an Anla’shok waited to lead the recruit away.
