Jihad
by V. Wildeber, 6 February 1999

Prequel to "Ingata."

Setting: 2245, after "In the Beginning," in the early part of the Minbari Holy War against the Earthers.

Legal Disclaimer: B5 characters, places, events, etc belong to jms, Warner Bros, and TNT.

Prologue

The attack had been unwarranted and cowardly. The unknown ships had, without warning or provocation, opened fire on the great cruiser carrying the Grey Council itself, and, in doing so, had killed the Chosen One, Dukhat. In righteous anger, the Minbari had declared Jihad -- a Holy War to eradicate from the galaxy the entire barbaric alien race of Earthers.

Enraged by the attack, the High Priest Branmer left the religious caste he was raised in by right of his mother, and swore to avenge the loss of his friend and fain-brother Dukhat. Branmer converted to the warrior caste, claiming his father's clan, and took command of the StarRider warcruiser Ingata.

Minbar spun into a frenetic cycle of activity in preparation for war. To bring the fleet up to full strength, the warrior caste, on Branmer's suggestion, had decided to split their crews, matching 1/2 experienced crew with 1/2 inexperienced, thus doubling their warcruiser capabilities in a short time. The learning curve would be steep -- but this was the kind of challenge a warrior lived for.

PART 1 - Jihad

They looked incredibly young. A few of them didn't even have their second growth ring filled in on their headbones. Nervously, with affected arrogance and a thin bravado, the young warriors milled around in the practice hall. Alyt Neroon watched in silence, unobtrusive and unobserved. He thought of the veteran crewmembers that had left the Ingata only hours before -- fully half of Ingata's crew complement, to include her Senior Bridge Officer -- and sighed. It was going to take a lot of work to prepare these young warriors for battle -- but they didn't have much time.

A broad-shouldered young officer in full armor barked out an order, and the mob fell into formation. Durell gave a hard look down the ranks which faced him, then, satisfied, he faced about. Alyt Neroon nodded approvingly, turned and disappeared through a side exit, making his way quickly down the corridor.

"Shai Alyt Branmer, the new crewmen are formed up."

Branmer didn't move for a moment, but remained staring raptly out the porthole. Impatiently, his aide stepped to his side. "Shai Alyt Branmer..." he began.

"Do you see that belt of stars, Neroon?" The older man indicated a broad swath of stars shimmering off to starboard.

Neroon obediently moved closer to the porthole and stared blankly at the starbelt. It truly frustrated him when the Shai Alyt did things like this. On occasion, the man was not practical, not efficient, and absolutely illogical. Neroon had a very short period of time in which to whip a bunch of inexperienced warriors into shape and successfully integrate them into the existing crew of the Ingata. He didn't have time for an astronomy lesson.

"Look closely, Neroon. At first glance, they are all identical, and blend in together. But if you look closely, you will see that each star burns with its own intensity and strength. Look long enough, and you may see some stars flicker out... or others flare." Branmer glanced at the younger man beside him, noting the telltale bulge in Neroon's square jaw. His aide was fuming, trying his hardest to understand his new commander's meaning, yet anxious to get on with the challenge at hand.

Suddenly, a streak of light crossed the sky. "A thrown star!," whispered Branmer, delight clear in his voice. Neroon looked over at the Shai Alyt in utter incomprehension.

Finally, Branmer turned and faced his aide with a nod, a slight smile crossing his face. Neroon was not adjusting easily to his new Shai Alyt.

Alyt Neroon saluted crisply, fist against palm, and turned to escort Branmer into the training hall, relieved to finally get his commander back on track.

The two warriors strode into the practice hall in grand fashion, preceded by standard bearers and followed by an honor guard. The effect seemed to magnify them, indelibly imprinting them onto the eyes of their soldiers as being somehow bigger than life. As Branmer addressed the troops, Neroon's eyes searched the formation, noting the ones whose attention strayed, sizing them all up. Astronomy lessons he could do without. But this -- this was tactile -- this he understood. He was known for having the best-trained crew in the StarRider clan, and this new crew would be no exception. It would be difficult, but, he always did enjoy a challenge. A grim smile crept across his arrogant features. And a challenge it would be.

After Branmer finished his speech, Durell turned the newcomers over to the sergeants to take care of their billeting and messing. The troops were marched out of the practice hall, passing directly in front of the Shai Alyt and his aide. Every set of eyes flicked up to meet the steady gazes of Branmer and Neroon. These new crewmembers might not know much, but in Valen's name, they now knew their chain of command!

As the last footsteps echoed down the corridor, Alyt Neroon dismissed the honor guard and standard bearers. Durell shifted his weight uncertainly, looking from Neroon to the door, unsure whether to stay or to go.

Neroon grinned and clapped the stocky young StarRider on the shoulder. "You stay, Durell. You're not yet used to being Senior Bridge Officer, are you?"

Durell shook his head and self-consciously hitched his belt. Although not much older than the group that had reported in today, he had proven himself a capable young warrior in his service on Ingata. Serious, determined, and fiercely loyal, Durell was a natural leader. In normal circumstances, he would have been groomed slowly and carefully to fully develop his potential -- but these circumstances were hardly normal. By default, he had become the third ranking officer onboard Ingata only this morning.

Neroon handed Durell a scroll tube. "Here are the training schedules and initial duty assignments, based on their clan training assessments."

The younger man saluted and turned to go, but Branmer stopped him with a slight movement of his hand. "Durell, I haven't had the chance to look at the billeting arrangements..." The Shai Alyt inclined his head slightly and began walking back toward his quarters, Neroon in step beside him. Just before they turned the corner, Branmer added, over his shoulder, "But I'm sure the clans have been mixed."

Durell's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked to Neroon for confirmation. The Alyt glared at him. Branmer stopped and turned back to wait for the young officer's response. Durell's eyes shot helplessly from Branmer to Neroon and back, then he drew himself up and saluted sharply. "Yes, Shai Alyt."

Branmer smiled and nodded, then continued back down the corridor. Neroon accompanied him partway to the Shai Alyt's quarters, then excused himself. As he expected, Durell was still in the hallway, staring at the training schedules with a confused look on his face.

Alyt Neroon descended upon him like a storm. Before Durell could react, the Alyt grabbed the young man by the collar and slammed him into the wall, lifting him bodily up off the deck in his rage.

"NEVER question the Shai Alyt again!," he roared, tightening his grip with every word. His voice dropped to a low growl, and his eyes burned venomously. "Never! Do you understand me?"

Durell mouthed the word "yes."

Neroon's voice dropped softer still, into an ominous whisper. "When he gives you an order, don't look to me. Understanding is not required -- only obedience."

Durell nodded, unable to speak. Abruptly, Neroon dropped him. The young officer fell back against the bulkhead and coughed convulsively, then recovered enough to stand at attention, eyes locked to the front.

Quietly, Neroon continued. "Shai Alyt Gorann is gone, Durell. We're doing things differently now." His words held a cold and bitter edge. "Change the billeting assignments. I will get you a new set of training schedules." Neroon took the scroll roughly from Durell. "Go."

Somewhat stiffly, the young warrior saluted and disappeared down the corridor. Neroon opened the document and scowled at it for a moment, then wadded it into a ball and arced it across the corridor into a reclamation port.

After the unprovoked attack by the Earthers on the Grey Council vessel, Shai Alyt Gorann of the Ingata had been selected as Satai, filling one of the circles left empty by the Earthers' unconscionable act. As expected, Gorann had taken his aide with him. Alyt Neroon, the second-in-command, had remained on Ingata.

Branmer had not, however, brought an aide with him aboard Ingata, but had chosen to use Alyt Neroon instead. It was rare, but not unheard of, to have an Alyt serve as aide. And, during the warrior caste's preparations to go to war with the Earthers, it made sense to double up the duty. Neroon was fairly optimistic that he could find a suitable replacement soon enough, so he could go back to doing what he did best -- running the daily operations of the warcruiser. Providing, of course that Branmer didn't refuse him out of pure peevishness...

Branmer was in meditation when Neroon got back to the Shai Alyt's quarters. They were his quarters, too, now that he had been drafted as aide. He shrugged out of his armor and cloak and hung them in the alcove that served as his room, still fuming about the training schedules and duty roster.

The candle cast strange, thin shadows around the room, emphasizing the crags and wrinkles of Branmer's face, giving him a ragged, aged look. The light flickered when Neroon walked past; but Branmer did not break concentration.

Stoically, Neroon began preparing dinner. He was not happy at all with this arrangement; but Branmer seemed to take a martyrish delight in watching his young aide struggle in the kitchen.

Neroon had been certain that this ancient tradition would be quick to go, once Branmer realized how hopeless he was in the area of food preparation. The new Shai Alyt had wreaked havoc with the Caste's traditions. He had even insisted upon assigning a half dozen religious caste and worker caste to each warcruiser. This would allow the entire population of Minbar to be represented and to serve in the Holy War, Branmer had said.

Although the Shai Alyts and their crews had objected at first, privately they rather liked the arrangement now. The religious caste crewmen served in the infirmary and took care of praying for all the rituals the warriors glossed over or neglected to do. The workers cooked, cleaned, and did maintenance. It was a brilliant flash of the obvious -- and it freed up the warriors to fight.

Neroon had assumed Branmer would see the logical continuation of this idea, and so had assigned a worker as the Shai Alyt's cook. Branmer had countermanded the assignment immediately. Instead, he tenaciously clung to the custom, older than Valen, which demanded a Shai Alyt's aide prepare, serve, and share his food -- an ancient tradition left over from a time, over a thousand years ago, when Minbari killed Minbari on a frighteningly regular basis.

Alyt Neroon glumly went about his task, reconciled to the fact that he was probably never going to eat well again.

After dinner, Branmer had chosen not to review the evening reports, but retired instead to his room to meditate in private. It was another one of his odd habits that constantly served to remind Neroon that his Shai Alyt was half-caste -- but it was rather convenient this evening, especially since Neroon had not yet had time to change anything.

Hours later, Neroon had revamped and posted the training schedules and duty roster to ensure the new warriors were not separated by clan. He had updated the log to reflect Branmer's new directives, and had conducted a walk-through of the entire cruiser to see if all were in readiness for the Shai Alyt in the morning. From the noises he had heard coming out of the junior crew billeting area, it appeared that the sergeants were not going to let him down.

He rubbed his eyes and drained his cup of tea, then went over to the couch and picked up Branmer's uniform, and inspected the polish one last time. Satisfied, he walked silently into the Shai Alyt's room to replace his boots and armor into their niches and to hang up his cloak.

Neroon stepped quietly over to the porthole. There, splayed out across the inky sky was Branmer's starbelt. He watched for a long time, but saw nothing different than he had in any other cluster of gasses and cosmic debris. He turned and looked for a moment at his sleeping commander, wondering why the man was so incomprehensible at times.

With one last glance out the porthole, Neroon silently left the room and returned to his alcove. According to the time, he would have about three hours of sleep before the shift change briefing.