by Richard Ford
Vance said nothing. It was no consolation at all. He had failed, and now Merreck had passed. Just one more thing for Merreck to lord over him. Never mind, he thought. This moment heralded a new beginning.
He struggled to a sitting position. William leant forward to grab Vance before he fell. ‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea that you get up just yet,’ he said.
‘Stop nagging. I’m fine.’ Vance got to his feet. After a shaky start, he managed to take a couple of steps. ‘I have to get fit anyway. I assume training will start again in earnest now.’
‘Apparently not,’ said William from beneath Vance’s arm. ‘The only work we have is learning the Anla’shok Creed. We have three days to contemplate and recuperate before we all have to recite it on the main landing platform, one at a time.’
And until then?’
‘Contemplation and recuperation.’
This brought another smile to Vance’s face. He looked down at William, who seemed to be struggling slightly under Vance’s weight. ‘Boy, are you guys in for a treat.’
Vance easily found the contraband needed for a decent party. In fact, the Minbari in Tuzanor seemed only too happy to arrange for booze and cigars. Vance could only wonder how, when they had struggled for decent human food, they now managed to get Johnny Walker and what seemed like genuine Havanas with no trouble at all. The answer probably came in the form of Sinclair. Even though Vance had tried to keep his dealings with the Minbari secret, Sinclair always seemed to pop up just at the wrong time. He would smile and nod, but nothing would ever be said.
Within twenty-four hours of him walking out of the infirmary, Vance arranged for a row of alcohol bottles, all the smokes he could get his hands on and even a beat-up comm link that he wired to speakers to play audio-crystals. The hangar he “requisitioned” was like a bomb shelter, but it was out of the way and best of all, it was vacant. Now all he had to do was spread the word.
He found his supplies so easily that he couldn’t help but think something treacherous was about to happen to him. Sinclair and his Anla’shok must have known he was planning a party, and they didn’t appear to care enough to stop him. Consequently, letting everyone know didn’t have to be such a clandestine endeavour. As long as they didn’t dangle it in their tutors’ faces, Vance reckoned they would be OK.
Of course, most of the human recruits turned up first and started partaking of the booze and cigars. Minbari initiates straggled in one by one and stuck to water. No matter how much Vance tried to persuade them, they would not touch the Johnny Walker.
Before long everyone relaxed. For most of the humans, they had been waiting for something like this since they arrived: a little music--no matter how low quality--and some booze in a relaxed atmosphere. As for the Minbari, they didn’t need a drink to loosen up. Within minutes of relaxing with a bunch of friendly faces, most of them seemed to fit right in--even smile. At one point Vance observed one of them dancing. For the first time since he arrived, Vance felt like he belonged with these people. He regarded them as his new comrades-in-arms, and as he looked across the crowded hangar, he saw Jerklenn smiling at him.
The side door to the hangar suddenly flew open. A collective intake of breath filled the room as a Minbari figure stepped through. When it was obvious the figure was not one of their tutors, or another member of the Anla’shok, the group relaxed somewhat. Vance remained tense as he watched Merreck survey the festivities taken place in the hangar.
The Minbari had taken a real beating, much worse than Vance, but the obvious pain could not obscure his proud bearing. Vance stood and walked toward him, fully intending to invite him in, but before he could speak Merreck turned and left. As quickly as he could manage, Vance followed. It didn’t take him long to catch the limping figure. ‘Merreck,’ he called, his voice echoing along the sparse corridor.
The Minbari stopped in his tracks, pausing for several long seconds before turning to face Vance. The look on his face wavered somewhere between disgust and hatred. ‘I gave you a chance,’ said Merreck. ‘I gave you a chance to show your true colours, and this is what you do. Encouraging my people to indulge in your human pleasures. The very things that make your race so weak! To think, I would have insulted my father and my uncle by befriending you. I should thank you for showing me the error of my ways.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Vance. ‘We don’t have to be enemies. We cannot be enemies.’
‘We are not enemies. Soon we will be Anla’shok. We will be brothers. But we will never be friends.’ With that Merreck limped away. Vance did not follow. He wouldn’t have known what to say even if he had.
Their three days of recuperation ended with a late-night gathering on the landing pad. The floodlights were switched off, and the light from Tuzanor’s spires cast an ethereal glow across the platform. The recruits lined up in three short ranks. One by one they stepped forward and faced the Anla’shok Na. To their credit, every one of them recited the Creed of the Anla’shok word for word. Vance felt no sting of nerves, no butterflies of apprehension. He felt only a sense of belonging. The words of the oath rolled off his tongue as though he had always known them, even if he didn’t yet understand their full meaning.
The last of them finally recited the Creed and walked back into line. Sinclair regarded each one in turn as he had done before the Mark of Fire, only this time he did not show concern or fear. His face was flushed with pride and, for the first time since Vance had first met him, Sinclair looked hopeful.
‘You are now acolytes of the Anla’shok, ready to be inducted into its mysteries. Much hard work lies ahead, but I am sure you can handle what is to come. You have proven you can get this far. Now you must prove that you are worthy to stand between the shadow and the light. Good luck to you all.’
As Sinclair left the landing pad, Vance looked across the row to either side. Flashes of pride appeared on some human faces, grim determination on others. Most of the Minbari wore contemplative expressions, as though drinking in the feeling so that they might reflect on it later. For himself, Vance hoped he would soon learn what was really being asked of him.
The next few weeks taught him more than his previous years of EarthForce training. Vance may not have improved as much as the other acolytes, but he put in no less effort.
Stealth seemed to be an Anla’shok watchword. Vance learned how to fly a fighter invisibly, land on a larger capital ship and run an audio tap into its systems. More important than the lessons, Vance’s fear of flying as a passenger dissipated too. He learned to relax when someone else was in control, or at least when an Anla’shok pilot was in control.
In addition, his own piloting skills improved tenfold. From his limited knowledge, he surmised he was as good as any Fleet cadet. Perhaps training in the fast, agile Minbari ships made him think his skills were greater than they actually were, but he now possessed a pilot’s eye for spotting danger.
Lessons in communication and intelligence began in earnest as well. At various points throughout training, spot tests were administered where an acolyte would be required to learn one of the hundreds of Ranger ciphers, then translate a message that would invariably be in a language unfamiliar to them. Using whatever resources available, the language would be translated, the message decoded and the reply sent in the shortest time possible using the relevant cipher. Although Vance showed an inherent talent in this area, and he had prior training in message ops at EarthForce, the sheer number of ciphers was staggering--and he was sure that the Anla’shok intended every acolyte to learn them all heart.
As part of the Code of Tuvor, Sech Kattak instructed the acolytes on ghosting. This technique--involving various disguise, camouflage and surveillance techniques--the Anla’shok perfected over a thousand years, but the concept of not being seen whilst being seen was totally new to Vance. He had gained proficiency in concealment at EarthForce, but blending into a crowd, especially when that crowd was solely composed of non-humans, challenged his skills. Eventually, Vanc
e found he could walk amongst the Minbari and appear as one of them from a distance, with the help of a hood and some slender wire.
The lessons that Vance enjoyed the most, however, and the ones he excelled at, were combat training. This did not solely involve the denn’bok. Vance mastered an array of weapons, from the faithful PPG to the Li’vath precision laser. Vance found himself unmatched at ranged combat and, much to his relief, even Merreck could not best him on the shooting range.
Tutors trained the acolytes in a number of hand-to-hand techniques, including traditional forms of wrestling and a number of non-human martial arts. The training in martial weapons, particularly the Ka’Toc and the ventar, fascinated Vance most of all. The Narn Ka’Toc was much like a katana, but heavier and more deadly. All the Anla’shok treated the weapon with respect and reverence, for any Narn who held one was not permitted to sheath it without first drawing blood. The ventar was a Minbari weapon, no longer in common use. The ancient sword was used in the first wars of the Minbari, when their clans would fight each other for dominance. Much like a broadsword from Earth, but more intricately carved and better balanced, the ventar seemed to know instinctively what the wielder wanted to do. Vance believed the sword fit his palm perfectly, and he felt strongly that if Durhan had been teaching him this weapon as opposed to the denn’bok, Merreck would have stood no chance.
Nevertheless, Vance continued his denn’bok training. In addition to the standard lessons, which Durhan taught during the day and gradually filled with more and more acolytes, Vance’s evening training continued. Vance truly blossomed here, soaking in everything Durhan taught him, learning every nuance and subtlety of the art. On rare occasions, Durhan even congratulated him on his progress. Each day and each lesson brought a new surprise.
Despite the rigours of physical training and Vance’s accomplishment in those areas, he put much effort and focus into his academic studies. Philosophy lessons turned to an examination of the meaning of the Creed, and Vance found himself suddenly paying much closer attention to Sech Fuhall’s lessons.
While on the surface it seemed a normal philosophy class, it also contained elements of history: both military and social. For the first time, Vance learned of the first Shadow War: how Valen had, with the help of Vorlon allies, turned the tide of the first Shadow invasion and pushed them back into the dark; how Valen subsequently disappeared; how the Anla’shok fell from grace after that; how the Anla’shok had opposed the war between the humans and Minbari; and how they even went so far as to sabotage Minbari ships so that human casualties could be kept to a minimum.
The most surprising lesson was how the Anla’shok discovered the Shadow’s re-emergence during the Battle of the Line. A hidden Anla’shok vessel spotted a cloaked Shadow vessel observing the battle. When it instantly disappeared into hyperspace, the Anla’shok’s suspicions were raised. The only race capable of such instantaneous hyperspace travel had not been seen for over a thousand years.
In the ten years since the Battle of the Line, Ranger agents travelled to the farthest corners of the galaxy, searching for whatever evidence they could, clues as to the whereabouts of a Shadow base, or any information about the Shadow’s plans and allies.
Vance listened with rising terror as he learned how far the conspiracy had spread and how little they actually knew of the Shadows’ intentions. A small clue here and a disappearance there were the only trails the Rangers had to follow. The collation of their evidence showed considerable Shadow activity but provided too little intelligence to plan any kind of counter assault. If the Anla’shok were not brought back to full strength soon, the Shadows would be able to attack with impunity. There would be no advance warning.
Now, more than ever, Vance realised the importance of his job here. He knew his father had been right--if he had explained all this to him initially, there would have been no question of him joining the Anla’shok. But he also understood his father’s secrecy. As the revelation of the Shadow threat brought cold sweat to his hands, Vance felt for the first time that he and his father now shared some kind of bond, although the two were hundreds of light years apart.
It finally happened. After weeks of trying to avoid it--or had he, had he simply been waiting for it?--Merreck stood opposite him in the fighting circle. He did not know if Durhan engineered this, whether he wanted them apart until Vance felt ready to take on the powerful Minbari or whether it was sheer luck. Regardless of Durhan’s role in the circumstances, the moment had arrived.
They didn’t have to say it. Both knew this would be a “no quarter” battle. Vance could see a smouldering hatred in Merreck’s eyes. Since the night of the party, Merreck always avoided Vance’s gaze. Any attempt at communication was met with a turned back or a blank, thousand-yard stare.
Now they were in the fighting circle once more for what Vance hoped would be a more even match. He and Durhan had trained religiously over the past weeks. During that time Vance felt he had attained a mastery over the denn’bok like no other weapon.
Merreck and Vance faced each other, pikes at the ready, with no pretence at ceremony. Durhan, knowing their rivalry, let this slide. A personal conflict needed to be settled here, and there would be no cry of “vakash’tuli”. Neither of these warriors would accept any defeat.
Vance chose not to give Merreck the pleasure of being the first to attack, as he knew enough now to put the arrogant Minbari on the back foot from the start. He stepped in, using the katrat’voras. Roughly translated it meant “leaping bird”, even though there was no actual leaping involved. The voras was a small predatory bird found only in the very north of Minbar. The move involved a combination of lateral strokes with optional breaks for parrying that had with them yet more options for counters. Vance tried for weeks to master it, but now he felt satisfied he could perform the manoeuvre successfully. Against anyone unfamiliar with it, the katrat’voras would be an opening move to end most combats.
Merreck parried every blow. At no point did he try a counter-stroke that might leave him open to Vance’s own counter. Merreck obviously knew the move intimately. The flurry of strikes, utilising both ends of the denn’bok, should have been devastating. The sheer strength of the blows should have put Merreck on the defensive, but he wasted no time counter-striking.
Keldranan. Vance recognised it from the first blow of the six-move combination. He gave silent thanks to Durhan for teaching it to him. The first strike, a powerful overhead chop, sailed straight at the opponent’s forehead. Vance parried the blow easily, moving his denn’bok vertically to fend off the sideways blows that would come in. There was the first. After the second, Merreck did not go straight into the third move. Instead, as their weapons clashed, he dragged his weapon downward and across Vance’s knuckles. Vance cried out and released his right hand’s hold on the denn’bok.
Merreck performed the rest of the combination, but now Vance was in no position to defend himself. He leapt over the next low blow and attempted to parry the last move with his arm, but it never came. Again, Merreck improvised his attack, hooking his foot around Vance’s leg. Already unbalanced, Merreck’s elbow strike into his sternum knocked Vance to the ground.
Normally this would signal the end of the combat, but intuition told Vance not to drop his guard. It was a wise decision. Merreck struck down at Vance’s prone form. Vance managed to grab his denn’bok with both hands once more and held up the shaft to parry. The sound of the ferricite weapons smashing into each other was deafening. Again, Merreck struck down, and Vance parried once more. He could feel his arms quiver. More blows like this would soon leave him completely unable to defend himself. Merreck stood over him so he could not roll away. A kick at Merreck’s groin would be risky for two reasons: one, the Minbari was probably expecting it; and two, he was tough. A groin strike would just serve to make him madder.
When the third blow rained down, Vance struck out with one end of his fighting pike, deflecting the blow away to the floor. A cracking sound echoed as Merreck�
�s denn’bok sent chips of cerracrete flying into the air. Vance lashed out with the end of his pike still in the air, catching Merreck across the jaw. The reprieve allowed him to bend his knees and use his denn’bok as a lever to roll backwards.
Merreck’s assault did not cease. Vance realised he had to try a little improvisation. Durhan had taught him well, but their limited training covered only the proper moves. Vance’s experience told him an infinite number of combinations could be performed freestyle, but he just didn’t know them yet. Vance was going to have to fight “EarthForce-style dirty” if this battle was going to have an outcome that didn’t involve another stay in the infirmary.
Before Merreck could strike, Vance leaned in, feinting the start of the mashuk’gari, a long and complicated move involving a kicking spin. Thankfully, Merreck leaned backwards, adopting the stance to carry out the appropriate parrying sequence. With one end of his denn’bok, Vance struck down, smashing one end into Merreck’s bare foot. The Minbari’s squeal was music to his ears.
Seizing the initiative, he moved in, feinting the start of the katrat’voras. Stumbling back, Merreck positioned his denn’bok laterally to parry. Vance moved in, sweeping his weapon behind him and landing a head butt right on the bridge of Merreck’s nose.
Both combatants reeled back. Vance miscalculated the solidity of Merreck’s head. Blood poured from one of Merreck’s nostrils, and Vance was satisfied to see anger flaring in his eyes. Hopefully his anger would lead to a mistake.
Merreck sprinted forward, and at the last second slid across the ground, attempting to hook his legs around Vance’s and flip him over. Vance leapt above him, quickly turning and sweeping low with his denn’bok. He missed, but forced Merreck into a rolling retreat. Seizing on Merreck’s vulnerability, Vance struck as his opponent turned. They brought their weapons up simultaneously and the denn’boks clashed. Vance knew that a standoff favoured the stronger Minbari.
