by Richard Ford
In no time at all, Vance opened his eyes to see the huge silhouette of a Morshin carrier gliding into view. He couldn’t help but allow a smile of satisfaction to cross his face. His system panel suddenly flashed on, the dim red lights of the cockpit replaced by the usual rainbow of colours. When he checked the time gauge, he had been drifting for over four hours. Checking life support, Vance saw barely enough oxygen remained in the Nial’s systems to last until the Morshin picked him up.
As the firm grip of the Morshin’s tractor beam closed around the Nial, the pall of calmness Vance achieved through meditation slowly faded. Once again someone else controlled his destiny. Not until the Nial was safely within the Morshin’s hangar did he feel secure once more.
When he exited his fighter, Sech Mishal was there to greet him, one eyebrow raised and a cockeyed grin adorning his face. Vance could not believe how uncharacteristically wry he was for a Minbari. He nodded in greeting, but he could not muster any enthusiasm, despite the mirth on Mishal’s face. Vance had failed to gain the Mark of the Star, and that would be damaging to his cause. ‘Why so glum, Vance? You are a very... fortunate individual.’
‘That I can appreciate, Sech Mishal. But the malfunction on my ship means I’ve failed the mission. No matter how lucky I’m feeling, it doesn’t change the fact I was one drone short.’
‘Understood.’ The smile dropped away from Mishal’s face. ‘And just where do you think your failure lies?’ Vance frowned, trying his best to decipher yet another strange Minbari question. Was it the ship? Did he do something wrong? Was there any way he could have avoided failure? Thinking back to the events that led up to the Nial’s malfunction, Vance thought not.
‘I’m not sure there was anything I could have done in the circumstances,’ said Vance, trying his best not to sound defensive. ‘Maybe if I was a little more familiar with Minbari electronics I could have--’
‘Maybe, maybe, maybe. Why always look for what you should have done, when what you did was more than good enough.’
‘I understand what you mean, but surely I could have done more than just meditate in my cockpit until help arrived. If I had known more about the Nial’s guidance system, I could have brought some of the systems back online and completed the mission. Instead, I failed. There is no excuse for that.’
‘Your ignorance is good enough for me,’ said Mishal, the wry smile returning to his face. ‘And besides, who said you failed?’
The frown on Vance’s brow grew deeper still. He and Mishal regarded one another for a few seconds, Vance’s look of puzzlement contrasting with Mishal’s barely contained mirth. It suddenly began to dawn on Vance. ‘So you mean destroying the drones was not the point of the mission? Or the way to attain the Mark of the Star?’
‘More than anything, the Mark of the Star is a test of courage and patience, in much the same way as the Mark of Darkness. You have proven today that you have learned those lessons well. It is how a Ranger should always conduct himself. When all options are exhausted, and only then, you wait patiently for an opportunity. Then aid will come your way.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ Vance was becoming slightly annoyed with being duped for a second time.
‘Then there is nothing you can do. Panicking will not aid you. Succumbing to anger will not help an impossible situation. Do you disagree?’
Vance could barely keep his frustration at bay. He suddenly realised his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. ‘I don’t disagree,’ he said through a tight jaw. ‘But would my time not be better spent learning how to use my equipment,’ he gestured over one shoulder towards the Nial, which now sat in the corner of the hangar.
‘There is always time to learn how to utilise tools. The lessons of the heart and mind must be mastered first. Once these are second nature to you, the rest will come naturally.’ Vance knew the Minbari was making sense in his own way, but as a soldier accustomed to learning tactics rather than ethics, so many years spent learning how to train his body to act and react instinctively, these lessons of the “heart and mind” seemed an aggravating waste of time. He had to will himself to not engage Mishal in a little “philosophical debate”, EarthForce-style. Instead, he lowered his head and nodded. Comply for now, he thought, and accept the fact that he was progressing just as the Anla’shok wanted.
Without a word he walked past Mishal toward the main deck area. He could feel the Minbari’s gaze follow him as he moved. ‘There will come a time, James Vance.’ Vance stopped but didn’t turn. ‘There will come a time when these teachings will make sense. But until that day you would do well to trust us.’
Vance walked onto the main deck. The place seemed so alien, more like a well-lit greenhouse than a military vessel. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling he’d made a huge mistake by coming here. Then, as the Morshin carrier headed to Minbar, and as he saw how naturally the Minbari crew worked together in silent discipline, those feelings faded.
A buzz circulated through the Anla’shok academy when Vance returned. Many of the trainees passed the Mark of the Star, more than pleased with their efforts. Vance could feel the electric atmosphere as he entered the main meeting hall.
Williams was the first to greet Vance in his irrepressible manner. ‘Pure genius, don’t you think? Mind you, I’m glad the test wasn’t passed by hitting drones. I think I only got two before my ship malfunctioned.’
Vance smiled in reply. He was still trying to work out whether being duped was a good thing. ‘I’m not so sure. I’m getting a little sick of all these dubious tests of faith. And I’m getting tired of these Minbari tricks.’
Jerklenn, standing not three feet away, spun round. William didn’t see the look on her face, but Vance realised she had heard and was offended by the words. Silently she stormed away. Vance nodded at William, who was still struggling for an answer, and followed her from the meeting hall.
It didn’t take Vance long to catch up with her as she walked along, head bowed. ‘Jerklenn,’ he called. At first she didn’t stop, and Vance thought she might not have heard him. Then, slowly, she came to a halt and faced him. Vance easily read her expression. ‘What can I say?’ he said with a grin, trying his best to lighten her obviously dark mood. ‘I’m not used to the way your people handle things.’
‘If you are so hateful toward the Minbari, then why did you come here?’
‘I’m not hateful. You must be able to understand that we have a different way of doing things and expressing ourselves. It takes time for people from different cultures to find common ground.’ Vance was surprised at his own powers of diplomacy. ‘Once we get used to each other’s ways, then--’
No!’ Vance’s eyes widened at her harsh tone. ‘This is the Anla’shok way. Not the Minbari way. Not the Religious Caste way. It was always the Warrior Caste chosen to join the Anla’shok. Now they have changed that, and even I am beginning to question their wisdom.’
She stopped. Vance realised it was not just humans she was having difficulty with. Jerklenn was as much an outsider in this environment as he was. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You see, we have common ground already.’
At first she regarded him with suspicion, as if this might be another way to poke fun at her. When she realised his comment was sincere, she returned his smile. Vance held out his hand, hoping that Jerklenn would be a little more comfortable with the human gesture than when they first met. She grasped his hand firmly, a little too firmly for a woman, and shook. Before he could say another word, she glanced over his shoulder and her smile dropped. Vance turned, and there stood Merreck. He levelled a disapproving glance not at Vance, but at the small figure of Jerklenn.
This is going to end in another beating, Vance thought, as he turned and squared up to the powerful Minbari. Merreck ignored him and continued to stare at Jerklenn.
‘You need something?’ said Vance.
‘From you, nothing,’ Merreck said, without taking his eyes from Jerklenn. Before Vance could think of a retort, Merreck spun on his heels
and marched away.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Vance, turning. Jerklenn was nowhere in sight.
They had their evening meal, but Jerklenn never arrived. With the buzz of the day’s test, nobody but Vance seemed to miss her. As he finished his meal, Vance realised Merreck was absent too.
For a second Vance considered searching for them. He had visions in his head of Merreck tearing into Jerklenn, chastising her for daring to speak to a human. But before he could begin his search, he remembered his appointment with Durhan in the combat hall. He could not afford to miss this lesson. He only hoped his fears for Jerklenn were unfounded.
The training hall was wreathed in shadow. The only discernible features were the outline of the centre circle and the irrepressible figure of Durhan, waiting patiently for his student. Vance approached as silently as his training would allow him. Before he got within twenty feet, Durhan tilted his head in recognition. Before Vance could speak, Durhan’s denn’bok extended and the Minbari rushed toward him.
Vance was momentarily flustered as he tried to ascertain if Durhan was really closing for an attack, but the look on his face left little doubt. As Durhan closed the distance, Vance fumbled in his robes for his training pike. After a split second of panic, his denn’bok was out and extended, his body adopting the defensive stance Durhan had taught him the day before.
Just in time he parried his tutor’s blow. Its power rocked him backward, and Vance was hard pressed to retain his footing. He skipped back to avoid Durhan’s reach, but the denn’bok master was deceptively quick for his size. Two more blows rained down, and Vance struggled to match them.
Durhan suddenly stopped and gave a curt nod, his fighting pike collapsing into itself. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘You should be ready for combat at all times. A bit of a shaky start, but it will suffice. It would have been disappointing to send you to the healers so early in your instruction.’
Vance was unsure whether to accept Durhan’s calm. He kept his own weapon up and ready. ‘I thought we only fought in the fighting circle,’ he said warily.
‘That is for everyday tutelage. Our liaisons are in secret and with the express purpose of, I think the earth phrase is, “raising your game”. The normal rules do not apply. Besides, the tricks I need to teach you require that you step outside the bounds of normal training. Another human phrase, I believe, is “think outside the box”.’ Durhan smiled. ‘I am quite fond of that one.’
Seeing Durhan relax a little, Vance did likewise, allowing his guard to drop but still expecting Durhan to launch another attack. It did not come. ‘Now, your defence was competent but sloppy. Had I been a lesser opponent, your adequate use of the denn’bok would probably have kept you from harm. However, a stronger opponent could easily beat your guard.’
Within seconds, all thoughts of Merreck, Jerklenn and pointless Minbari tests were gone. Durhan’s practicality captivated Vance. As the lesson carried on, he became more and more obsessed with his weapon, and for the first time there seemed to be no surreptitious philosophy surrounding it. Simply warrior and weapon. The first thing about the Minbari that Vance felt he could truly comprehend.
The Mark of Fire
The recruits awoke the next morning to an environment fraught with tension. A tangible malaise hung about the complex, but none of the recruits could identify it. Vance was pleased to see Jerklenn was safe but didn’t feel comfortable enough to bring up the subject of her sudden exit when Merreck had interrupted their conversation the day before. Besides, Vance didn’t feel he should breach the general lull in the morning conversation at their table.
The oppressive mood, Vance soon realised, sprang from the solemn and serious attitudes of all the Minbari around them. Even their usual morning wake up call seemed particularly glum. How the silent, white-robed figure had managed to be more miserable than usual Vance could not tell, but somehow he infected the entire dormitory.
No breakfast conversation lightened the gloomy mood. Vance noticed one or two recruits at other tables attempting to exchange banter with their fellows, but the Worker Caste Minbari who served their meals quickly stared them down. Those tutors they passed in the corridors regarded their wards with looks of sad seriousness, which Vance likened to those given to the terminally ill or condemned.
By the time breakfast ended, Vance had reached his limit. Donning his thin training pants and vest, he headed off to the small gymnasium. This was all he could think of to try and cheer himself up. Even more importantly, the Minbari rarely used the gym. Apparently Sinclair had it installed just before the new recruits arrived, much to the chagrin of the other Anla’shok. With no sullen Minbari faces around, maybe a workout could lift the dour atmosphere.
Like many things Minbari, the gym was small but perfectly formed. Vance wasted no time: after a quick stretch, he started with some bench press. The weight was light; there weren’t enough plates in the gym to make the bar really heavy. Consequently his reps were slow and controlled, squeezing every ounce of effort out of his chest and arms.
Vance sat up after the first set, beginning to feel better. The general disquiet had not penetrated this little room until the door opened. Merreck stood there in his full robes. Vance’s stomach turned, though he was more annoyed than scared. The Minbari might be here looking for another fight, but Vance was more bothered that his workout was now ruined.
‘We are all summoned to the main hall,’ said Merreck without expression. After a curt bow he left. Vance felt cheated. Merreck had the audacity to stalk into the gym, intimidate him, and not even have the decency to provoke a fight. Jumping to his feet, Vance suddenly realised Merreck had actually done him a favour. Now at least he was no longer infected by depression; his anger had seen to that. Why had this sworn enemy done him this service?
Vance flung open the door and marched down the corridor. Merreck was not far ahead, and Vance gained on him quickly. He marched as close as he could, staring at the back of the Minbari’s head. Merreck did not turn or adjust his pace. This made Vance even angrier. Surely Merreck knew he was there, surely this must annoy him, having the human he hated most right at his back. The more Merreck ignored him, the more Vance’s ire grew. He began to think of Jerklenn. Of the look she had given Merreck when he appeared the day before. Was it fear? Deference? Either was bad enough. All she had done was shake Vance’s hand. Why should such a gesture shame her if done in front of Merreck? Were they betrothed? They were of different Castes. Vance wasn’t sure if inter-Caste marriages were allowed. Whatever the situation, it was not acceptable for Merreck to treat Jerklenn in such a way. Not by his standards. Human standards.
Vance was about to speak, about to challenge Merreck’s back, when the tall Minbari turned. Vance realised they’d arrived at the main hall. Merreck stopped to allow Vance to enter first. He bowed his head and held out an arm, beckoning Vance through. The gesture did not alleviate Vance’s mood. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Merreck was trying to wind him that bit tighter.
Once he entered the main hall, the suddenly solemn atmosphere eclipsed his temper. He realised that this was no time to vent his anger. He was the only person present not in his Ranger robes, adding to the dampening of his mood. Despite his unsuitable attire, nobody so much as glanced his way. The rest of the Ranger recruits, and most of their tutors and the fully qualified Anla’shok, were lined up in ranks, cross-legged on the floor before the statue of Valen. Sinclair stood in front of them, looking somewhat regal in his finery and casting his eye over the men and women before him.
Vance quickly joined one of the rows and sat cross-legged at the end. Merreck took position in front of him, purposely showing his back once more. A sudden pang of guilt overcame Vance as he considered some of his thoughts about Merreck might have been uncalled for. As he sat waiting for the rest of the trainees to file in, he noticed not everyone was here. Those recruits who had not received either of the first Marks were absent. It dawned on Vance that he and his fellows were about to
face yet another trial. In the silence of the main hall, Vance’s mind tried to fathom what the next pointless test could possibly be. Whatever it was, he planned to show courage and initiative, even if he knew it was an aimless exercise. And then if everything else failed, just meditate. This last thought brought a smile to his face as he imagined using the same strategy during EarthForce training. He would have been blasted into the middle of next month!
The last strays made their way into the hall, and Sinclair stood to attention. The hall, which had been in silence previously, attained a palpable hush, as though the walls of the building were leaning in, keen to hear the Anla’shok Na’s words. Sinclair seemed to regard every single recruit sitting before him. Compassion, dignity and pity seemed to play across his face all at once. ‘The Mark of Fire.’ Sinclair’s voice was soft yet commanding as it rang out, echoing up to the high ceiling. ‘It is your next test as Anla’shok trainees. It is the final Mark you can earn, and few ever achieve it. There is no disgrace in failing this test. You will not be cast out of the order for failure, but the honour that goes with succeeding will stay with you for the rest of your time as a Ranger.’ Here Sinclair paused, as if at a loss for what to say. He almost seemed angry. ‘Before you begin, there are two things you have to know. The first is that I am opposed to this test.’
There was a slight murmur around the main hall. If the Anla’shok Na was opposed to this test, then it must be serious indeed. Vance began to think that maybe real peril accompanied this one. This thought made him more eager to begin.
‘There are dangers involved in this test that I do not believe all of you are ready for. As such, any of you who do not want to take the Mark of Fire can skip it without fear of shame or reprisal.’ None of the recruits said a word. Vance was sure that even those who had come from civilian backgrounds, which was practically all of them, would not want to back out before knowing what the challenge was.
