by Richard Ford
One by one the acolytes were led off into the darkness, but Vance felt no uneasiness. Long gone was his anxiety about the Minbari and their “tricks”. No longer did he mistrust them. He was almost Anla’shok, one of their elite, ready for whatever challenge they could pit against him.
Before long Vance’s turn came, and a black-robed figure suddenly stood before him. Silently, the figure raised an arm, beckoning Vance to walk forward into the darkness. Vance obeyed, fearlessly embracing the darkness. After only ten steps he was suddenly bathed in pale blue light. The surrounding blackness instantly switched to a huge field of stars enclosing him on every side. Then, one after the other, nine more blue lights each illuminated a single shrouded figure, until he was eventually surrounded.
‘Who wishes to speak the last words of youth?’ It was a woman’s voice, stern and clear.
‘James Vance,’ he replied.
And what are you, James Vance?’ This time the voice was male.
‘I am a Ranger,’ he said, without hesitation.
One of the figures strode forward, head hidden by a grey hood. In one hand the figure held a staff with an ornate head, and his other was clenched into a fist but held out, palm upward. ‘Are you the light that seeks out every place that the shadows might hide?’ asked the figure.
‘I am a Ranger,’ Vance replied.
‘Do you come to the place between the candle and the star?’
‘I am a Ranger.’ Vance realised he was saying the words without thinking, as though he had rehearsed this scene a hundred times, even though he hadn’t.
‘Will you remain forever true, forever Anla’shok?’ asked the figure.
‘I am a Ranger,’ replied Vance once more.
Slowly the figure dipped the staff and touched it to Vance’s forehead. He felt energy suddenly wash through him, like a cleansing of the soul. The figure raised his upturned fist and opened his hand. The Ranger’s pin, a stone set in gold and silver, sat there. Vance took it and bowed.
‘Welcome, Anla’shok,’ said the figure. ‘Stride forever among the stars.’ With that he walked back to his place, and the nine blue lights winked out as suddenly as they had illuminated. The field of stars disappeared from around Vance, and complete darkness enveloped him once more.
Again, Vance knew his next move instinctively and walked forward with confidence, despite the dark. Ahead was a tall figure he recognised. Turval’s face was stern, but his eyes still smiled in their usual fatherly way. ‘Congratulations, Anla’shok.’
‘Thank you, Sech Turval,’ replied Vance.
‘Unfortunately, you will not be joining the rest of you brothers and sisters for the celebration.’
‘Is there something wrong?’ Vance asked, sure it could be nothing he had done.
‘No, but we must return to Tuzanor immediately. You are about to begin your first mission.’
Torvag
Sinclair’s office was still sparse. The last time Vance had been there, three months before, the room had been bare, and it was little different now. Vance was ordered to sit. Durhan and Turval, as well as another Minbari Vance didn’t recognise, stood silently behind him. The stranger was obviously Anla’shok--his uniform gave that away--but this Minbari was like no other Vance had ever seen. Facially, he more resembled a Drazi than anything else. The front of his face was flat, as though he had been repeatedly beaten with an array of blunt objects. His skin was criss-crossed with scars, although one stood out more than the others, running from the right side of his mouth to his right ear. Vance was sure that, when fresh and laid open, the wound would have exposed the inside of his mouth.
‘This is Bakkatt,’ said Sinclair, ‘one of our most experienced Anla’shok.’ Vance bowed his head respectfully and was surprised when Bakkatt reciprocated. ‘He is to lead your mission. When the rest of your team arrive, I will give you further details.’
Vance sat in an uncomfortable silence for several seconds, before a stout knock at the door offered respite. Durhan opened it and allowed Jerklenn to enter. Vance’s spirits soared. He could hardly contain his delight. Not only did he consider Jerklenn a close friend, she was practically invincible with a denn’bok. He could think of no one else he would rather be in a tight spot with.
Jerklenn bowed to Durhan, Turval and Sinclair. She was introduced to Bakkatt and took the seat next to Vance. Within seconds there was another rap at the door. Vance realised the mission must be dangerous indeed to require four Anla’shok.
‘Merreck, this is Bakkatt,’ said Sinclair. Vance couldn’t bring himself to look around. He had the best and worst comrades he could have asked for on this mission. Hopefully, now that they were officially Anla’shok, the ill will would disappear.
Merreck took his seat in silence, acknowledging neither Vance nor Jerklenn. Sinclair regarded them all with his usual thoughtfulness. ‘You are all aware of what is coming. The Shadows are rising, and they have been for some time. As a consequence, we have been monitoring several governments and their representatives for any sign of Shadow influence. Bakkatt is in charge of several Rangers on surveillance throughout the Drazi Freehold.’ With that he nodded to the scar-faced Minbari, who stood and regarded the three fledgling Rangers.
Bakkatt’s voice rumbled deeply when he spoke. ‘For some time now we have been concerned about the Drazi. Their violent nature makes them susceptible to, and an obvious target for, Shadow manipulation. As a consequence, they have been closely monitored. Keldulan was ... is the Ranger posted on Zhabar, the Drazi homeworld. I was receiving weekly reports from him, but last week they suddenly stopped. A few reasons for this are possible: capture or death being the obvious two. We will travel to Zhabar and meet with Keldulan’s Drazi informant, then take our investigation from there. Any questions?’
Gruff and straight to the point, thought Vance. This wasn’t what he had come to expect of the Minbari, but he liked it nonetheless. When there were no questions, Bakkatt retook his seat.
‘I know the three of you are inexperienced,’ said Sinclair, ‘and this may seem like a dangerous mission for your first time, but I have every confidence you will do well. You are Anla’shok. Remember that.’ Although Sinclair looked at all three of them before he continued, Vance heard the subtext of the message loud and clear. ‘Take note of Bakkatt, as he is our most experienced brother. Consider him your teacher during this mission. Dismissed.’
With that they all stood. Bakkatt exited first, but before any of the others could leave, Sinclair motioned for them to stop. ‘I would like to speak with the three of you alone,’ he said, gesturing to Merreck, Vance and Jerklenn. Durhan and Turval bowed and left without a word. As the door closed, Sinclair regarded his new Anla’shok with a furrowed brow. ‘Now, I know there’s been plenty of talk of this “live for the One, die for the One” credo. Well, just this once, since this is your first mission, I want you all to forget about that. When you have a few missions under your belt, then valiant and heroic deaths are allowed. Until then, if you find yourselves in trouble, run like hell. Do I make myself clear?’
Vance and Jerklenn nodded their agreement. Merreck did not move an inch. Sinclair looked at him, his brow relaxing. Vance could tell that Sinclair wanted to persuade Merreck to heed his words, but there would have been little point. ‘Alright, you’ll leave straight away,’ he said. ‘Make sure I see you all again when this is over.’
The three of them left. No words were spoken between them as returned to the dorm. When they arrived, Bakkatt was waiting for them, Durhan by his side.
‘Leave your Ranger pins and uniforms,’ said Bakkatt. ‘We will be travelling to Zhabar in disguise.’
Vance could see the simple robes laid out on their bunks. Before they could change, Durhan stepped forward. ‘You have all excelled in the combat arena, one way or another.’ Vance amused himself with the thought that getting beaten to a pulp and protected by a female must have been the “other” way to excel in the combat arena. ‘There is one piece of equipment you wil
l all require.’ From within his robes, Durhan produced three denn’boks. He handed one to each of them, bowing as he did so. Vance held the small piece of metal in his hand, wondering how long it would be until he was required to use it on their mission.
The three of them silently changed into their plain robes and followed Bakkatt to the landing platform. A shabby-looking freighter waited for them, and they boarded, each silently contemplating their own thoughts and fates. Once in orbit, Bakkatt turned, his piercing blue eyes regarding them from within his ruined face. ‘Follow my lead at all times. Use your initiative when appropriate, but stay focused on the job at hand. We must first find out what has happened to Keldulan and then, if necessary, take action.’
They nodded their reply. Vance could feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, as they did before the start of any mission. This time, though, an inner calmness seemed to act as a net to catch those butterflies, relaxing him. Somehow he knew he would not fail. On EarthForce missions, that element of the unexpected, which made him apprehensive and tense, had always hounded him. Now, even though anything might happen when they landed, Vance was a thousand times surer of himself. He was on a mission for the Anla’shok. He would walk in the dark places. If death came, so be it. He would fight with the strength of the light.
They came out of hyperspace an hour from Zhabar. When they eventually reached their destination, Vance could see the planet--a massive landmass with little water or cloud cover. Most of it was desolate, sparsely dotted with huge cities that would be teeming with violent, bloodthirsty Drazi.
As they broke the planet’s atmosphere, the freighter shook erratically, as though the planet itself were in a hostile mood. Despite the uncomfortable landing, Vance was calm, no longer panicked by his lack of control over the situation.
Torvag City was the Zhabar s capital, but despite being the most densely populated city on the planet, its main spaceport was primitive at best. The Drazi seemed to care little for immigration or customs controls, but then again few could comfortably deal with the caustic nature of Zhabar s inhabitants.
As the four Anla’shok made their way through the port, they were greeted in a gruff manner: no warm welcomes, no offers of help and certainly nobody offering a sightseeing tour.
The situation did not improve as they navigated the city’s streets. Threatening looks assailed them from all sides. A palpable air of violence filled the narrow streets.
‘We should split up,’ said Bakkatt. ‘I am not due to meet with Keldulan’s contact until noon, and we do not need any trouble before then. Three Minbari and a human wandering the streets together will draw suspicion. Let’s meet at the market square fifteen minutes before noon, and then we can rendezvous with the contact together. Do not travel far from the square. If any of you find yourself in trouble, use your discretion. Remember, you are Anla’shok.’ The three nodded their agreement. ‘Entil’zha veni,’ pronounced Bakkatt with a bow, and he departed down one of the adjacent streets.
Without a word, the three of them split up, Vance taking a street to the north. He wound his way through the annoyingly narrow alleyways, remembering what he had learned about Torvag. The streets themselves were narrow, perhaps out of necessity to cut down on the number of deaths when the various factions carried out their regular running battles. Vance surmised that if the enraged Drazi could not reach each other en masse, casualties could be kept to a minimum. Not that it really helped alleviate the violence. The scope of the violence would simply be reduced to a smaller scale.
Despite the reason for their construction, Vance couldn’t help but be impressed by the architecture of Torvag. It did not compare to the dark majesty of Tuzanor, but it easily stood up to any ancient city of Earth.
He eventually came to a row of stalls set back from the main path. Vance could see they were attached to the front of a row of houses, the stallholders obviously working out of their dwellings. ‘Serius petoolo dakkad,’ spoke a growling voice in Vance’s ear. Stepping back, he saw a squat female Drazi holding toward him a bowl of some pungent-smelling meat, smiling all the while. Vance smiled back, shaking his head. It would be suicide to try any food offered by the Drazi, particularly in these back streets. He could only hope that he wouldn’t cause offence by refusing.
Hugging the shadows, Vance became as inconspicuous as possible. Even in the narrow streets of Torvag, he found that he could rely on his stealth abilities. A Drazi who approached him would move to one side, paying him no mind as though he was not significant enough to bother. For the next hour Vance wandered around, observing silently from the shadows. More than once he witnessed two or more Drazi begin arguments over nothing. Their harsh words turned to blows until one of them was incapable of standing or continuing to fight. At one point a Drazi was so badly beaten Vance feared him dead. However, as he watched from the shadows, the hulking, scaly creature shakily regained its feet and, after wiping the blood from its brow, continued on its way as though nothing had happened.
Checking the slender timepiece on his wrist, Vance saw it was almost time for him to meet the other Anla’shok. He moved toward the square and was struck by the sudden change in atmosphere. The bustling marketplace rang with the sounds of lively barter and trade. Little of the oppressive, violent atmosphere of the rest of the city seeped in here, and Vance even heard raucous laughter from other parts of the square.
Despite the change in atmosphere, Vance remained alert as he walked out into the open, his hood still concealing his face. As he made his way past an alleyway, he heard a sudden whisper. Looking up he saw Bakkatt, partially concealed in the shadows. ‘Over there,’ Bakkatt motioned to a small door with a wooden sign above it. ‘It’s a Drazi drinking den. We are to meet our contact in there. I will go first. Wait two minutes then follow me in.’
Vance let Bakkatt lead the way. To his right he could see Jerklenn and Merreck also hanging back, waiting to follow Bakkatt. After waiting two minutes as ordered, Vance entered the drinking den, bowing his head to avoid the low doorway. The stench of pungent Drazi ale assaulted his nostrils and almost choked him. A smoky haze from the weed of the den’s patrons choked the room. The strained violence of the city was replaced here with a strangely subdued atmosphere.
Bakkatt was already seated in one corner with a sleepy-looking Drazi. Vance walked over as Jerklenn and Merreck entered the drinking den behind him. The Drazi looked up and smiled as the trio approached, really little more than a leer, as though the Drazi was showing his disdain for social niceties. The Rangers sat in the spare seats at the table.
‘You have babysitters, Bakkatt? Or are you babysitting them?’ The Drazi laughed at his own joke. Bakkatt remained silent, locking the Drazi in a stony gaze. The smile soon slipped from the Drazi’s lips. ‘Straight on to business then, eh? Serious as always, Bakkatt. I’ve come to expect that. That’s why I like you Minbari. You always know what you’re going to get.’
‘Keldulan,’ said Bakkatt suddenly. ‘Tell me where he is, Rottik. Right now.’
The Drazi leaned back, as though hurt by Bakkatt’s commanding tone. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. But I think he was beginning to stick his nose into places it wasn’t wanted.’
‘Explain,’ ordered Bakkatt. It was obvious his patience was growing thin.
A smile spread across the Rottik’s face, and he reclined in his seat. ‘Keldulan was most generous with his rewards for the information I gave him. Are you so generous?’
Slowly, Bakkatt reached into his robe and withdrew his clenched fist. He held it out over the table. The Drazi eagerly opened his palm beneath Bakkatt’s fist. In a flash, Bakkatt grabbed the Rottik’s hand and twisted it almost all the way around. After giving a short, high-pitched squeal, Rottik managed to control the pain. To show weakness in a place so public would have hurt his reputation.
‘Alright, alright.’ The Drazi’s voice was dry and throaty. Vance made a mental note to ask Bakkatt to teach him the hold he was using. Bakkatt released the Drazi, who
quickly clenched his ill-treated hand. ‘No need to be so violent. I thought you Minbari were peace loving.’ Then, glancing at Vance, ‘Well, at least before the war. No offence.’
Vance did not answer, and Bakkatt leaned forward again impatiently. ‘He was investigating the Thath Vorak,’ said the Drazi quickly, not wanting to invoke Bakkatt’s wrath once more. ‘Or more specifically, a member of the Thath Vorak named Musan Volt. Apparently Musan Volt had been having the occasional “rendezvous” with someone that concerned Keldulan. He was on his way to spy on one of Volt’s meetings when he was, er, disappeared.’
Vance knew of the Thath Vorak, a group of Drazi, most of them venerable, who influenced, or more often meddled in, the political and military concerns of the Freehold. Much like the Freemasons of Earth, their numbers mostly comprised ex-military and businessmen of wealth.
‘Where can I find this Musan Volt?’ asked Bakkatt.
‘He resides in the Merchant’s Quarter,’ answered the Drazi, ‘and is not difficult to find. But be careful, as he is a powerful man, very influential. I’d hate to see you upset the wrong people and go missing like your friend.’
‘Let us worry about that. What kind of security can we expect?’
‘How would I know? I’m just a lowly--’
‘You’re telling me Keldulan didn’t have you reconnoitre Volt’s movements before he went to investigate him? I find that hard to believe. That makes me think you’re lying, which also makes me think you had something to do with his disappearance.’
As Bakkatt spoke, Vance saw Rottik becoming more and more agitated. At the academy, he had been taught how to spot liars and deceivers and, despite the lack of telltale signs allowed by Rottik’s Drazi features, he obviously had something to hide.
Rottik’s chair creaked backward. Before he could make a break for it, Merreck grabbed his arm. Vance stood as inconspicuously as he could and surveyed the rest of the drinking den. The patrons were too interested in becoming inebriated to care about someone being strong-armed in the corner.
