PART 3 - Jihad
by V. Wildeber, 6 February 1999

"Shai Alyt Branmer -- you have a message coming in on a closed channel." The comms officer looked back at his commander expectantly. Branmer nodded and took the earpiece, his expression tightening into an impassive mask as he listened.

He gave a brief acknowledgment, then handed the earpiece back to the comms officer. "Take the bridge."

Branmer stood and strode toward the door, Alyt Neroon in step beside him. After they had gone a ways down the corridor, the Shai Alyt said, almost conversationally, "It seems that we and the Anathu are to begin boarding vessels and taking prisoners."

Startled, Neroon looked over at the older man. He started to say something, then abruptly closed his mouth.

Branmer laughed, a hollow sound deep in his throat. "Go ahead, Neroon. Ask your questions."

"Shai Alyt, this is a Holy War. We do not take prisoners in a Holy War -- we have no reason to bargain."

"Ah, but this is for scientific and xenobiological examination." Branmer spoke bitterly. "Certain of the scientists on Minbar have decided these Earthers are worthy of a closer look." He snorted contemptuously. "It is ironic, actually. Before he was murdered, Dukhat wished for us to know all we could about this new race..."

Neroon coughed, and Branmer broke out of his reverie. "Yes?"

"What are we to do with these prisoners once we get them?"

Finally smiling, Branmer reached out to the younger man and clapped him on the shoulder. "Always the practical one, Neroon! The worker caste is sending a vessel. We will transfer the prisoners immediately and be done with the mission. Don't worry -- we are to hold them on their own ship. None of them will come aboard Ingata."

Still, Neroon looked doubtful. "I suppose we should be honored to have been chosen for this... *historic*... mission," he commented drily.

Branmer laughed again, this time genuinely. "Actually, the Ingata and Anathu were chosen because we were the most convenient! The worker caste didn't want to send their ship out too far from their normal routes. Shai Alyt Shakiri feels as honored as do we."

The operation had gone as smoothly as could be expected, but there were still losses that the warriors found difficult to accept. Even after the Earther commander had reluctantly surrendered his ship, many of the crew refused to come forward peacefully, but hid themselves within the twisting passageways and fought on in savage desperation.

The boarding team suffered heavy casualties in their attempt to clear all levels of the Earther vessel. After a full day of skirmishing in the close confines of the destroyer, the warriors had secured all prisoners on the command level. Still, the few who had evaded capture managed to harass and endanger the boarding team. In anger, Branmer ordered all decks sealed off, then cut life support to all levels except the command level. The harassment stopped.

The worker caste prisoner transport vessel did not make its scheduled rendezvous. Impatiently, the warriors waited, and guarded their unwanted prize. Days passed, and the worker ship still did not arrive.

In the infirmary, the beds were filled with wounded warriors, silent in their agony. Alyt Neroon stood at the door, his nostrils rebelling at the cloying smell of death and the astringent medical odor that could not quite cover it.

Shai Alyt Branmer went from bed to bed, speaking to each of his crewmen, touching them, calling them by name, commending their bravery. He flowed smoothly among the wounded, bringing a calmness to the room. Even the medics, most of them religious caste, seemed to gain strength from his presence. He was at once a High Priest and Shai Alyt, serving yet leading.

On the bed closest to the door, a young NightWalker was watching Neroon. She was very young -- one of the group which had recently arrived. The pain in her eyes belied her stoic silence.

Neroon looked down and smiled awkwardly. He was not comfortable around those who were unwell. He placed his hand on her shoulder and patted it stiffly, surprised to see the young warrior's eyes light up.

"Davonn, you performed bravely today. Your team sergeant told me that, even when you were separated from the rest of your team, you held your position and did not let the Earthers pass." He stopped, unsure of how to continue. The young woman's leg had been badly burned by an Earther plasma weapon; and the surgeon was unsure it could be regenerated.

"Sleep now. You will need your strength." Neroon gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and was rewarded by a weak but appreciative smile. Slowly, Neroon began moving among the beds, from warrior to warrior with their silently pleading eyes.

Suddenly, the chime of a comms signal rang out. "Shai Alyt Branmer, there has been a problem with the prisoners on the Earther vessel. We are trying to get the details. They say Seselj needs help."

Branmer and Neroon locked eyes across the room. The Shai Alyt's voice rang out, "Have a boarding team standing by at the docking bay, awaiting Alyt Neroon." He turned to the surgeon. "Send a medic team with the Alyt -- at once."

En route to the alien ship, Neroon tried unsuccessfully to get a straight report on what had happened. He listened impatiently to the traffic between the comms officer and the ratello onboard the destroyer. The MoonShield was either clearly incompetent or he was being purposefully evasive.

The leader of the onboard team met Neroon in the hangar, a dazed look on his bruised face. A few members of his team stood nervously, casting their eyes about in every direction -- in every direction except their Alyt's. A medic was attending to one of them. From the looks of the team, they all needed medical attention.

Alyt Neroon quickly took in the situation in the hangar. With rapid stride he crossed the deck. Beckoning to the team leader, he took him aside and growled into his face, "What has happened? Where is Seselj?"

The WindSword swallowed, then said quietly, "We couldn't ..." He looked down, then took a deep breath, met Neroon's gaze again, and continued. "There were only two guards in there with him, and they could do nothing to stop it. The medics dragged them out and worked on them. One of them is still unconscious. The other is awake, but unable to walk."

Helplessly, he waved his arm in the direction of the rest of his team. "None of us were able to stop it."

Neroon pushed him out of the way and ran down the corridor, roaring for his team and his medics to follow him. They thundered down the hall to the dayroom where the prisoners were held. Guarding the door was a young StarRider who looked like he was about to be ill. The corridor reeked of blood and bile.

Someone was singing inside the dayroom -- a song of blood and honor, of battles fought and victories won. The eerie sound echoed down the corridor, and the guard looked sicker.

Neroon shouldered his way through, then froze just inside the doorway. The stench was terrible. The deck and bulkheads were slick with blood -- mute evidence of a great struggle. In the dim light, he could see the prisoners lined up in a neat formation, motionless. Before them stood the singer, swaying slowly to the rhythm as he gave his solo performance to the Earther captain.

"Seselj!"

The young warrior kept singing, as if oblivious.

Choking back the bile rising in his throat, Neroon walked cautiously toward the singer.

"Seselj! It is Neroon! You will stop now."

The young warrior turned to Neroon, his eyes feverish and wide. Dried blood crusted his handsome face and covered his uniform. His gloves seemed steeped in it. Mutely, he held up a fragment of greyish headbone, his hand shaking slightly. With a shock, Neroon recognized it as belonging to Tolkenn, who had fallen in an Earther crossfire, and whose terribly maimed body had been one of the last to be recovered.

Seselj pointed unsteadily to the Earther lying in a limp heap at his feet. "He wouldn't tell me who did this, Alyt Neroon." Slowly, he turned around and faced the formation, their mangled bodies precisely stacked in even piles. "None of them told. They just babbled and screamed out nonsense. They are barbarians, Neroon -- all of them." He laughed, a rough, croaking sound. "I asked them in Vik, in Adronato, even in Lennau -- and still they wouldn't tell me."

Slowly, Neroon came up beside Seselj and reached out his hand. "Give me your weapons, Seselj."

The young StarRider frowned at Neroon. "But we are at war, Alyt Neroon."

"No Seselj. It is over." Firmly, he grasped the younger man's glove and extracted the claw, slipping it into a pocket of his cloak. Seselj gaped at him, a look of confusion and betrayal clouding his features.

For a moment, reflected in those maddened eyes was the boy Neroon remembered. Keeping his hold on Seselj's hand, Neroon reached out again. "Give me your weapons."

The eyes changed, and the eyes of the one who had worshiped Neroon's every move darkened into insanity again. He shook his head and pulled his arm away, backing up, never taking his eyes off of Neroon. He began to keen again, clutching the shard of bonecrest and swaying.

At that, two of Neroon's boarding team came up on either side of Seselj and took his arms, pinning them to his sides. Seselj reacted with unexpected strength, throwing them off and turning on them, drawing his pike and striking with cold precision. One of the men howled and fell to the deck, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. The other charged again, just as Neroon struck out. Seselj took the blow to his head, but did not stop. The clan-brothers whirled on each other, fighting with the intensity of the mind-lost. The rest of the team backed away, unable to do anything but watch in horror.

Doggedly, Neroon battled his friend, trying to wear him down. Seselj was as a man possessed -- his strength did not diminish, and even direct hits did not seem to affect him. The madness had taken him completely, twisting his mind and his heart into a dark caricature of himself. Neroon called out to him, but Seselj couldn't hear him any more.

With a sharp upswing, Neroon ripped the denn'bok from the younger man's hands. He threw his own pike to the side and tackled Seselj, slamming him to the deck with a bone-crushing thud. The two men grappled on the blood-slickened surface, unable to get a solid grip. Finally, Neroon pinned Seselj, jamming his shoulder down hard into the other man's chest. He roared out for the medics, who dove on the young warrior.

Neroon leaned hard, his eyes locked onto Seselj's, watching the black light in his fevered eyes dull into a glazed-over dimness as the sedatives began to work. Slowly, he released his hold and stood, then bent to pick up his pike and left the room.

On the way back to Ingata, Alyt Neroon made a closed-channel call to the warcruiser. Moments later, the black night blossomed with flame as Ingata's main guns reduced the empty destroyer to dust.

The worker caste ship came the next day, bringing an odd report. It appeared that the Anathu had no prisoners to deliver, either. Apparently there had been some sort of tragic malfunction of the airlocks, and all prisoners had been lost. Shai Alyt Shakiri had no choice but to destroy the Earther vessel and continue on his original mission.

Shai Alyt Branmer stared balefully at the coarse, impassive face of the worker on the shimmering holoscreen. "Ingata has no Earther prisoners. I have a request that is rather difficult to make, however."