PART 2 - Jihad
by V. Wildeber, 6 February 1999

Training was going better than expected. Grudgingly, Alyt Neroon had to admit that Branmer had made a good decision in mixing the clans for their drills. It was just another one of the warrior caste traditions that had fallen to Branmer's axe. Soon after converting to warrior caste, Branmer had demanded the warcruisers be integrated instead of being manned by single clans, destroying a centuries-old tradition of pride and honor. Now, the Ingata was not purely StarRider; the WindSwords could no longer call the Trigati their own -- the warcruisers were all an amalgam of clans. The warriors now fought as a caste, not by clan.

Neroon could not fathom how this man held such power over the Shai Alyts, nor why they chose to obey him. Perhaps it was out of respect for his close friendship with the Chosen One, Dukhat. Whatever the reason, the warrior caste appeared to have acceded to Branmer's leadership.

A sudden movement at the far end of the practice hall caught Neroon's eye. He stifled a smile as he saw one of his sergeants crash into the padded wall. Across the mat from him, one of the new crewmen leaned on his fighting pike, the only man left in the circle. It was Seselj, Neroon noticed proudly. The young StarRider had come onboard Ingata burning with a passionate desire to avenge the death of the Chosen One. He was quickly distinguishing himself among his fellows as a natural leader and dauntless fighter.

Seselj and Durell were clan-brothers to Neroon, and as such had spent their growing years tagging along after Neroon until he left home for formal training with their clan. The StarRider been a surrogate older brother to the youngsters, teaching them the finer points of fighting with the pike and the knife, showing them the place high up on the top of the great temple where they could spit off the roof and horrify the religious caste acolytes, and, of course, boxing their headbones when they got too cocky. It seemed right for the three of them to be together again -- and it was only appropriate that young Seselj was conquering all comers. He had, after all, been trained by one of the best.

Durell came up, eyes gleaming conspiratorially, and said sotto voice, "There's almost no one else left for him to challenge but the officers." He looked up at Neroon in amusement. "Dare we?"

The Alyt considered for a moment, then shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to maintain a stern expression. "Later. I need them all to think we are invincible for a while, yet."

He surveyed the young warriors pitched in mock battles throughout the practice hall, and smiled ruefully. "I reviewed the results of the last gunnery exercise. I think we can safely say we've identified our new ground troops."

At that moment, a burly NightWalker in a challenge circle close to them let out a roar and heaved a small, dark figure bodily out of the ring. The hapless warrior skidded to a stop near Neroon and Durell, then rose unsteadily and started back toward the ring. Neroon reached out and snagged the youngster by the shoulder. He looked down into a slightly dazed expression and said firmly, "No. You sit over there for a while." The young warrior saluted groggily and obediently moved to the benches.

"That's the half-caste, then?" Neroon knew the answer before he asked the question. Durell nodded, his broad face pensive. "One of the additions to the manifest, re-directed to Ingata at the last minute."

Neroon sighed. He remembered the change. It had been directed by the Shai Alyt, for reasons he had kept to himself. The young FireWing was easily the smallest member of the crew, with a slight bone structure that left no doubt in anyone's mind of her religious caste heritage.

Size wasn't the most important thing about a warrior, though. Neroon glanced back at the small figure on the bench, then looked at the massive warrior who had triumphed over her in the ring. From the gunnery scores, the little half-caste was among the ones who would be separated out for higher level training. The hulk that was so efficiently emptying out his challenge ring was destined for the ground troops, along with a large percentage of his comrades -- the big, loyal, somewhat dull-witted troops who made up the backbone of the warrior caste.

Across the room, another cheer went up as Seselj ejected his last competitor from his ring. Seselj, too, was marked for higher-level training.

Behind them, the half-caste had recovered from her drubbing in the ring, and, anxious to get back into training, was beginning to fidget. Neroon strolled over to the bench. The young warrior stood quickly with a crisp salute. The Alyt regarded the youngster for a moment, then drew his denn'bok.

"You need to re-learn how to fight, Shukran."

Her eyes widened, surprised that he knew her name.

Neroon sized her up, deciding with resignation that she had probably reached her full height. "You lost because you were fighting to his strength. You must learn to fight to your opponent's weakness. Get inside his decision cycle, Shukran -- make him react to you."

Patiently, Neroon worked with the young FireWing, coaching her in a fighting style that would compensate for her size and shorter reach. "Come into close quarters with your opponent. Someone my size cannot use their full force at this angle."

Shukran nodded, then ducked nimbly under his pike and charged full into Neroon, who didn't budge. Laughing, he grabbed her in a bearhug and lifted her easily off the ground. "Perhaps we should refine your technique a bit. It wouldn't do for your opponent simply to crush your ribs."

After a while, she was actually beginning to elude him, ducking in under his guard, striking, and slipping away before he could touch her. She wasn't doing much damage yet, but at least was able to keep him slightly off-guard. It was an absolutely unorthodox fighting style -- and Neroon was enjoying himself immensely with it.

He stopped the lesson before she grew too tired. Leaning on his pike, he adjusted his chestpad slightly where it was pressing against a new bruise.

"Report to me for your next lesson tomorrow, Shukran. There is a lot of work ahead of us. You will not fight in the ring again until I clear you."

The young woman saluted, pivoted lightly, and trotted back to her section.

Durell ambled over from where he had been watching the lesson, a quizzical look on his face. "I checked the FireWing training records. Shukran scored well in denn'bok."

Neroon shook his head. "I do not know, Durell. Perhaps it is because she trained only with FireWings. I imagine she would have done quite well today had we kept the sections manned along clan lines."

The two men watched in amazement as a MoonShield pummeled one of their fellow Star Riders. "Now, that's a move I haven't seen before..." He broke off his words with a start, and glanced over to the dais, where Branmer was raptly watching the drills. Perhaps the Shai Alyt did know what he was doing by integrating the crews.

An undercurrent of excitement rippled through the Ingata. The warcruiser had picked up Earther vessels on the sensors. From the size, it appeared that they were scout ships. The mother ship would be somewhere in the area. This would be the new crewmen's first blooding, and the first time any of the Ingata would see the face of their enemy.

From the bridge, Branmer would oversee the battle. Durell, chafing at being left behind, manned the tactical operations station. To Durell's surprise, the Shai Alyt had selected the FireWing half-caste, Shukran, as primary gunner for the mission.

Alyt Neroon led the attack, his fighter wing a carefully chosen mix of experienced crewmen and new ones. The Minbari fighters slashed through the ranks of the clumsy Earther ships, dancing around their deadly blasts and returning fire with precise aim.

The Earther scouts had done their job, though, and had relayed the Minbari positions to their battle group. From out of the blackness of space they came, with a vanguard of fighters: a half-dozen alien destroyers and cruisers, awkward and asymmetrical, boiling through the jumpgate toward the tiny Minbari fighters. Neroon brought his pilots back into formation and launched straight into the Earther battle group.

Fireballs and debris filled the sky as the Earther fighter wing was cut to pieces by the Minbari pilots. In their wake came the Ingata, guns blazing. The Earther ships separated in an attempt to divert the Minbari warcruiser's fire. They didn't anticipate the awesome power of the Ingata's main guns, though. One by one the bulky grey ships crumbled, torn apart by the salvos of the warcruiser or picked apart by the fighters.

Deftly, Neroon guided his fighters back and forth across the battle zone, strafing the lumbering Earther vessels, skimming along their cluttered, pocked surfaces too close to be fired on, taking out antennae and weapons systems with tight, precise shot groups. In the melee, one of the Earther captains panicked, and broadsided a sister ship. The resulting explosion caused more damage to the Minbari fighters than any of the intentional strikes.

The last remaining enemy vessel turned and fled at top speed, obviously intending to open a jump gate. Its fragile little fighters swarmed behind it, gallantly attempting to hold off the Minbari should they attempt chase. It was a futile effort. Ingata held its fire until the jump gate was almost completely open, then, with one surgically precise shot, severed the Earthers' starboard quarter engines. The jump gate bloomed with flame as plasma poured from the crippled ship. Then, in one blinding instant, the Earther vessel and her fighters were gone.

The fighter wing made a slow loop back toward Ingata, scanning the jetsam and debris for signs of life. Neroon was proud of the way his pilots had handled themselves. Only one warrior was lost, a promising young WindSword who had been too close to the Earther ships' collision. Three other fighters were badly damaged, but could limp back in under their own power. The warriors of Ingata had met with and conquered the enemy with honor and valor, and were credits to their clans -- and to Minbar.

As the fighters circled in to dock, they were met by Shai Alyt Branmer himself. He stood in the baking heat of the bay, somehow looking taller than life, a proud, fierce smile lighting his craggy face.

Neroon saluted him deeply, fist against palm, and Branmer smiled and extended his right hand out to him affectionately in ritual blessing, placing his hand over the younger man's heart. Neroon hesitated a moment in surprise, then dropped his salute and covered the Shai Alyt's hand with his own, inclining his head slightly. He moved to stand beside Branmer as his pilots came forward. As the young warriors approached and saluted, Branmer called them each by name and lightly grasped their shoulders. They fairly beamed with pride at the honor, and Neroon could not help but grin at them.

Finally, Seselj stood before Branmer. He had stayed back a bit to assist one of the injured MoonShields. As the medics were struggling with the wounded, but stubborn pilot, Branmer glanced at Neroon. The Alyt's eyes were locked with Seselj's, silently communicating his pride. The young StarRider saluted, and Branmer couldn't help but notice the family resemblance. "Seselj of the StarRider clan, you have proven yourself well today. You bring honor to your clan-brothers, and to me."

Seselj gaped for a moment at the unexpected compliment, then recovered his composure enough to bow and exit smoothly. As the young warrior passed Neroon, the Alyt cuffed him fondly on the headbone. "Don't get cocky, Seselj!" Seselj turned and saluted Neroon, unable to hide his smile, then loped out of the bay.

That night, as Shai Alyt Branmer and his Alyt reviewed the vids from the tactical cameras, it dawned on Neroon that the Earthers were either incredibly poor shots or they couldn't lock on to the Minbari vessels. "This is a weakness mentioned by none of our intelligence reports, Shai Alyt."

Branmer turned to his aide with a snort. "Neroon, the Grey Council first received intelligence regarding the Earthers from the Centauri, almost a full cycle before the Earthers attacked. They decided not to pursue the issue, feeling that it was beneath their interests." His tone became acid. "And Dukhat died."

Neroon opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. Instead, he poured a fresh cup of tea and awkwardly pushed it across the table to his commander.

"Thank you, Neroon." Branmer's voice was quiet, and he suddenly looked very tired. He picked up the cup and stood to go to his room. Neroon bowed, and began collecting the battle reports.

"Neroon." The voice sounded oddly thin.

"Yes, Shai Alyt Branmer?" Neroon came to the door and saw Branmer standing by the porthole, staring intently out into the night. He felt a twinge of concern for his commander, and crossed over to him.

"Shai Alyt?"

Branmer reached out and gripped his aide's shoulder for a moment, then released and turned back to face the porthole. "I fear the best of us have already gone out to sea, Neroon. We are not the same people Valen knew."

In a strained voice, he continued. "Did you know he was my fain-brother, Neroon? He was my closest friend. We couldn't have been closer if we were born to the same family. Even after we had both grown up we stayed close. He performed my wedding..." He looked down into his cup and swirled the dregs into a delicate spiral design, then swallowed and looked back out the porthole, his face hardening a bit.

"And he performed their funeral service. My wife died giving birth -- and the healers could not save our child."

Neroon stiffened, struck by Branmer's pain. He stared out the porthole, unable to think of an appropriate response. Outside, in the blackness of space, the stars glittered, eternal guardians of the night.

"I have recommended to the Grey Council that we systematically destroy the Earthers from their periphery inward. We will drive in toward their homeworld, crushing their military capability as we go, and bypassing civilian targets and their communications technology."

Branmer paused, then inclined his head to one side and regarded Durell for a moment. The young officer was clearly struggling with the notion of bypassing any potential targets, especially such high-value targets as comms sites.

"Your thoughts, Durell?"

Durell started to glance at Neroon for confirmation, then thought better of it.

"Pardon, Shai Alyt, but if we leave their communications intact, their command and control cells will have full use of their reconnaissance assets. They will know our every move. And the civilian population centers will quickly become guerilla bases. Within a short time, we'll have a two-front war..." Durell's words faded off as he watched the corner of Alyt Neroon's mouth begin to twitch.

Branmer nodded sagely. "Your thoughts echo the concerns of many of our most experienced warriors, Durell, and show a solid understanding of conventional tactics." He cuffed him affectionately on the headbone and smiled. "But we cannot afford to be conventional this time!"

He looked over at Neroon, who seemed to be lost in thought. The Alyt's dark eyes had taken on an ominous glow, and his teeth were set in a cold, mirthless smile.

"Alyt Neroon?"

"Mora'Dum." Neroon spoke the word softly, as if to himself, then he turned to face his Shai Alyt, a newfound respect forming for this strange old man. "The Application of Terror. They cannot stop us; and their very reports will only serve to unnerve and terrify them. They will assist in their own destruction through their own fear."

He continued, his voice betraying an edge of excitement. "And starting our sweep out in the remote Earther colonies will allow our caste time to bring our new crews up to standard on our way in to meet the Earther main forces."

Neroon paused for a moment, realizing for the first time why Dukhat had treasured this man so. "It is an efficient and deceptively simple plan, Shai Alyt." Solemnly, he saluted Branmer.

To Neroon's surprise, Branmer saluted him back, vainly attempting to conceal a proud smile. "And you, young Alyt Neroon StarRider, caught on more rapidly than any of the Shai Alyts at the council... save perhaps Sineval."

Branmer's strategy was working. The Earthers were completely unprepared for such a blazing assault, and were crying out to other races for support against the Minbari. Wisely, the Centauri elected to remain outside of the conflict. The official position of the Narn Regime was also neutral; but there were several indications that Narn technology was beginning to appear in Earther hands.

But by now the crew of the Ingata had melded into a finely-tuned war machine.