Ingata
by V. Wildeber, 18 November 1997

Setting: 2259, between 'Legacies' and 'All Alone in the Night'

Legal Disclaimer: B5 characters, places, events, and everything else remotely related to B5 belongs to jms, Warner Bros, and possibly TNT. I am only borrowing them. I'll put them back -- I promise.

Prologue

It was 2259, not quite one full year after the death of Branmer, former Shai Alyt of the Minbari warcruiser Ingata. The Ingata still sailed: silent, massive, and menacing in the night, but under a new Shai Alyt -- Neroon of the Star Riders clan.

Neroon had served as Branmer's aide for 15 years, until his mentor's unexpected death. Then, during the viewing processional due a warrior of his greatness, Branmer's body had been stolen and cremated by Satai Delenn, then scattered among the stars over Minbar. Satai Delenn had ordered Neroon to pretend that Branmer had ascended bodily into heaven. Everyone had believed the lie -- after a fashion.

As the new Shai Alyt of the Ingata, Neroon was entitled to an aide. It was expected that he would select one of the strapping young Star Riders who had distinguished themselves in battle, warriors cut from the same mold as Neroon himself.

He had broken with tradition in selecting Shukran. She was of the Fire Wings -- the warrior caste's most junior clan. Worse, she was half religious caste. She was downright diminutive in comparison to most warriors -- her slight build giving unfortunate but ample proof of her diluted bloodline. But no one could argue her skills as a gunner, pilot, fighter, and leader. The red piping on her epaulettes bore witness to her bravery in battle. She was a fine young officer -- but, as a half-caste, certainly not aide material. Perhaps, in the end, the fact that she was half-caste was the exact reason Neroon chose her. She reminded him of Branmer.

PART 1 - Ingata

"Warcruiser approaching. Open gunports," barked Alyt Durell, second-in command of the Ingata. The viewscreen rippled as the Terinni came into view, bristling with weaponry, a fierce mirror image of the Ingata. It was third shift, when all but a skeleton crew should be asleep. Durell turned to see Neroon standing behind him. From long experience, it didn't surprise him to see his commander appear on the bridge in the middle of the night. "Shai Alyt, we have been hailed by the Terinni. They intercepted a supply ship from Minbar and want to know if we need any resupply items."

Neroon tried not to smile, succeeding only in looking smug. The warrior caste did not condone piracy, nor did it practice it. However, it was not unheard of for warcruisers to divert supplies from worker supply ships, on occasion. They always paid full price for what they took, of course -- and it saved the warriors a tedious trip back to Minbar. As long as it was not done too regularly, the Grey Council turned a blind eye to the practice.

"Check with the quartermaster, Durell. I'm sure he has a list made up already."

"Shai Alyt, the commander of the Terinni wishes to speak with you. Shall I transfer the message to your quarters?" Durell already knew the answer. His question was merely a matter of protocol. Neroon nodded and walked briskly off the bridge, his aide at his side.

Silently, Shukran slipped into the Shai Alyt's room, placing his newly-shined boots and polished armor into their niches. She hung his cloak, freshly brushed, back on its hook, unfurling it so that it hung straight. Then, she stepped over to the porthole, staring out at the stars filling the blackness of space. If she stood at the proper angle, she could see the Terinni shining bluish-white against the darkness. It was warm and peaceful here, listening to the quiet breathing of her sleeping commander and staring out at the eternal night.

Neroon had not been quite asleep when she entered. Usually, he did not hear his aide as she went about her nightly rituals. She stayed up to prepare their uniforms after he went to bed; and she woke before he did, to receive the morning shift change briefing, prepare breakfast and ready the ship's reports for his perusal. And, at some point, she slept. Silent, unobtrusive, efficient, she made her work seem effortless. Neroon knew better, and appreciated her all the more for it.

He turned his head toward the porthole. Out of her armor and cloak, the slightness of Shukran's figure was emphasized by her soft black tunic and trousers. She stood silhouetted against the porthole, unaware that he was awake. Neroon swung his feet off the bed, noticing his aide's spine stiffen as she realized he was moving. She did not turn, though, as he padded softly to stand behind her, gazing out at the stars.

"I did not mean to waken you, Shai Alyt."

"You did not," he rumbled. "I couldn't sleep." He looked down at the young warrior's profile, reflected against the glass. "I used to love looking out this porthole, too. Branmer and I would have many discussions right here." He gave a quiet chuckle as he thought of some of those late-night talks with his mentor. "What are you thinking about?"

"I was just looking at the stars, and how they reflected off the flank of the Terinni. It looks like a picture I once saw of an earth creature -- an 'angel fish.'"

Neroon smiled, and intoned in mock arrogance, "Anyone else would be thinking of relative speeds or whether the Terinni's antenna array were angled properly." Shukran grinned back at him.

Neroon continued more quietly, "Branmer would have come up with a comment like your 'angel fish.' He used to show me pictures in the stars. Do you see that group over there?" He indicated with his finger. "Omicron 6.24. Can you see two Minbari fighting with pikes?"

Shukran nodded. "The one on the left is defending. My father called them the 'Den'sha-enn.'"

Neroon stepped closer to the porthole, leaning his left hand against the bulkhead and his right familiarly on Shukran's near shoulder. She looked up, pointing to a trail of glittering gasses and debris that arced across the sky. "A thrown star!"

Neroon shook his head. His aide took more joy in living than anyone else he knew -- now. "Branmer was forever amazed that I could fail to notice things that he saw so clearly." He affected an acid tone. "Do you suppose that only those with religious caste blood see like this?"

"No -- because you see it, too," she replied, matter-of-factly. "Good night, Shai Alyt Neroon. Sleep well."

"Good night, Shukran." Neroon extended his right hand out to her, the ritual blessing of a superior to a subordinate, laying his hand on her chest just below her throat. She covered his hand with her own and inclined her head slightly. Then she turned and slipped silently out of the room to her alcove.

Neroon turned back toward the porthole. He missed Branmer terribly. Branmer, the greatest war hero known to the Minbari, who had left the religious caste he was raised in and converted to the warrior caste of his father. Branmer, the towering giant who had led the Minbari to victory against the Earthers -- until the sudden, mysterious surrender at the Battle of the Line. Branmer, his former commander and best friend.

Neroon reached out his right hand toward the stars, touching the glass of the porthole with his fingertips. After a moment he brought his left hand up to his chest, and inclined his head slightly. Somewhere, in the place where no shadows fall, all old friends would be reunited. He turned and went back to bed. The Shai Alyt of the Terinni had brought the news he had been waiting for. He really should get some sleep, now.

The transfer of supplies from the Terinni to the Ingata was going routinely. No one was in any particular hurry, as the offloading allowed the two crews time to visit with each other and share news from home. Several of the officers from the other ship had challenged the officers of the Ingata to a contest, which had been immediately and vigorously accepted. Life on a warcruiser could be painfully tedious at times, without such breaks. The matches would begin once the supply transfer was complete.

Jitenn, a broad-shouldered and good-natured senior bridge officer, had volunteered to serve as the coordinator of the competition. Actually, he had sparred his way through six other warriors who wanted the honor. To the victor went the spoils. It had not gone unnoticed, when Jitenn spoke on-screen with the Terinni's contest representative, that both of them appeared to bear evidence of recent combat.

Neroon flipped through the status reports absently, then turned to his aide. "Some of your family are on that ship, aren't they?" Shukran nodded. "There's nothing going on at the moment -- why don't you go visit them?" She saluted, trying hard not to break into a grin, then pivoted lightly, and disappeared down the corridor. Neroon watched her go, an amused look playing about his features. She took such joy in life.

As he had expected, the day had been quite dull. The supplies would be coming onboard for several days, as the quartermaster took his time inventorying and storing the materials. Jitenn and the Terinni officer had drawn up an elaborate plan for the competition, with tiers of matches by duty position, by clan, and in free-for-all. The crews of both ships had been preparing for days for this event. It would be good for morale -- and of excellent training value, of course.

Neroon strode alone down the stark corridors to his quarters, wondering what he would fix for his supper. He was a rather good cook, from years of practice as Branmer's aide. Every now and then, he evicted Shukran from the kitchen and cooked one of Branmer's favorites, just for fun.

As he sat down to eat, the door chimed once, then opened. Shukran always sounded the door chime before she entered his quarters, even though she shared them with him. She came in, bearing a drab, spindly plant.

"What excellent timing -- you're just in time for dinner," intoned Neroon dryly. "How was your visit?"

"Good, thank you," she smiled. "I appreciate your letting me go see my clanbrothers. They send you their greetings." His aide bowed, set the plant down, and went back to her alcove to remove her cloak and armor. Neroon took the opportunity to examine the plant. He could not fathom its use.

Shukran returned, passing through the kitchen to serve herself a plate. Bless Neroon, he was a good cook. "It's a kailest"-- she answered his unasked question.

"What is it used for? Medicinal value? Food?" He turned over a dull, waxy leaf and looked under it, then poked at a bulge on the stem.

"No, Shai Alyt. It ... just blooms. This one should flower in a few days." Neroon stared blankly at the plant, then back up at Shukran. Sometimes his aide mystified him.

Finally, the transfer was complete. Everyone had taken advantage of the time to visit with the other crew -- and to make the all-important posturings and bets that accompanied a challenge.

"The Shai Alyt of the Terinni requests permission for his warriors to come aboard, Shai Alyt." Neroon nodded his assent, then rose from his seat, looking around the bridge at the mostly empty stations. Jitenn had managed to scale the crew down to almost nothing in his determination to involve everyone in the competition.

The Shai Alyt addressed the most senior of the lot, a serious young Night Walker on his first cruise. "Take the bridge. I will be in the practice hall." The warrior saluted deeply, eyes glowing with pride at the honor.

Neroon strode down the corridor, cloak billowing, Shukran, as always, silent at his side. He found himself entering the commons from a different side than usual, and shot an amused glance at his aide. He supposed that she had learned this trick from watching him do the same thing to Branmer -- bringing him to exactly the place he needed to be, without his realizing that he was being guided.

"All right, Shukran," Neroon drawled languidly. "What have you brought me here for?" She met his gaze and smiled, saying nothing, then turned to look toward the corner. There, under the porthole, was the plant she had brought back from the other ship. It had bloomed -- an almost translucent flower the size of a child's hand, in soft shades of pink deepening to a ruddy carnelian at the center.

He approached it, reaching out a finger to touch a delicate petal, stopping in surprise when he noticed the faint, sweet aroma. For a moment it reminded him of something... but the memory eluded him. "It is beautiful, Shukran."

"I wanted to make sure you saw it before it was gone."

"Gone?" He looked back down at the blossom, wondering how such an utterly drab plant could produce such a lovely flower.

"The blooms last only one day. It won't bloom again for half a year."

"You brought back a plant that has no practical value, and that blooms only two times a year?," he rumbled under his breath.

Shukran looked down toward her left foot, and Neroon knew that he had embarrassed her. After a moment, she raised her head and squared her shoulders. "Yes."

Neroon smiled dryly. "Then we shall enjoy it today and look forward to it a half year from now." He turned again to look at the flower.

Odd -- but it was beautiful. He had never stopped to appreciate things for their beauty until he became Branmer's aide. Branmer had had a way of noticing things of beauty, just as Shukran did. At first, Neroon had been frustrated by his mentor's appreciation of things impractical; but he had gradually come to a grudging admiration of art, of the way the light and refracted colors of the waterfalls played off the crystal towers of Yedor, and now of the transitory beauty of a single bloom set against the black backdrop of a porthole, empty save for the constant stars.

Suddenly, he thought how ridiculous this looked: two warrior Minbari en route to a challenge, stopping off to smell a flower. He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that rarely was heard since Branmer's death, and clapped Shukran on the shoulder. "It wouldn't do for the host to be late to a challenge. Come along." He took one more look back at the plant and shook his head, smiling, then headed out of the commons toward the practice hall, his aide in step at his side.

The competition had gone quite well. Both crews were evenly matched. Neither ship was wholly of one clan -- the Terinni was pretty evenly divided between Moon Shields and Fire Wings, while the Ingata was heavily weighted with Star Riders. Spreading the clans out among the warcruisers helped to keep clan rivalries down.

A contingent of Moon Shields from the Terinni had taken several rounds, and were threatening to best Neroon's Star Riders in the team match-up. Neroon was not particularly worried yet. Durell and Shukran had not yet fought. It was traditional to hold the most senior officers until the last.

The two final competitors from the Ingata stepped forward, to the roars of the crew. A most unlikely pair, Durell and Shukran stood side by side on the piste, Shukran's head barely reaching the second-in-command's shoulder. Both wore the blood-red piping of decorated combat veterans on their epaulettes and collars. That was as far alike as they got. Alyt Durell was sturdy and level-headed, built like a wall, dark eyes flaming in his broad face. Beside him, Shukran looked deceptively fragile. She grinned ferociously, anticipating combat.

Star Rider and Fire Wing saluted first Neroon, then the commander of the Terinni. In response, two massive Moon Shields, the second and aide of the Terinni, strode to the piste. They saluted both commanders, then faced their opponents, teeth bared in mock anger. The match began.

Exhausted, but victorious, Durell and Shukran leaned on their pikes and ignored the pain that throbbed through various parts of their bodies. They smiled through gritted teeth and saluted their opponents, who were trying equally valiantly to look unhurt. Perhaps it was a good thing that warcruisers met so infrequently.

The warriors of the Terinni straggled off toward their flyers, escorted by their hosts. Everyone walked slowly in an effort not to limp. All in all, it had been a glorious contest -- one which would be remembered for years. Neroon watched, a smug look on his face. He and the Shai Alyt of the Terinni had served together when they were young, and had a long history of such competitions.

The last few flyers hovered over the bay deck, awaiting clearance to depart. Unexpectedly, one flyer jerked forward out of turn. The Ingata controller yelled out a warning, and the errant pilot dropped one wing to avoid collision with the flyers around it. Too late, the other flyer pilots reacted, trying without success to perform evasion maneuvers in the cramped space of the bay. In sickening slow motion, fireballs shot through the bay, as fliers exploded in the confined area, ripping through the bay bulkhead into the heart of the warcruiser itself.

The blast deflectors had activated immediately, and gravity was interrupted for a few seconds in the practice hall. Neroon vaulted over a collapsed beam and pounded the intercom button on the wall. "Emergency in the bay! Get medics and engineers down here NOW!" Neither Durell nor Shukran were anywhere to be seen. The emergency lighting had kicked in, but so had the sprinklers, reducing visibility to almost nothing.

A muffled groan sounded near his feet; and Neroon knelt to see a young warrior trapped beneath a bulkhead plate. He wrenched the plating upward enough so he could reach under and pull his crewman free. Neroon supported the dazed Minbari for a moment, as together they looked around at the destruction; then they began systematically checking through the mess, searching for still, dark bodies.

Neroon picked his way though the wreckage, turning up each fallen warrior, comforting the injured with a quiet word, assisting the able in freeing those trapped beneath debris, trying to form in his head a complete picture of the damage. Steam from broken pipes mixed with the ash from smouldering panels and insulation, forming a sticky grey mist which clung to everything, giving already pale faces an eerie pallor. Out of the corner of his eye, Neroon saw a blur of motion, and turned. "Shai Alyt Neroon!" Suddenly, Shukran was in his arms.

Time seemed to stop. For that instant, the only thing that mattered in the whole world was that she was safe. Then, the instant was gone -- Shukran stiffened in his arms and gasped, tearing herself away and slamming down onto one knee before him, fist against palm, head bowed, mortified. "Pardon, Shai Alyt."

Neroon bent forward, lightly grasping her shoulders to assist her to rise. "You did not offend me." Still, she kept her head bowed, eyes fixed on a spot just in front of her left boot. He placed his fingers under her chin and gently lifted her face up to his, bringing her eyes up to meet his gaze. "You did not offend me," he repeated in a low voice. His hand slid up her jaw, cupping her cheek, as he continued to stare down into her eyes. Resisting a sudden, insane impulse to kiss her, he dropped his hand back to her shoulder and squeezed lightly, then released. "I am glad you are uninjured," he noted briskly, then turned back to the wreckage.

Shukran had regained most of her composure by this time, and began getting accountability of the survivors and ascertaining the degree of damage. Thankful that the immensity of the situation did not allow her to dwell on what had just happened, she simply disappeared back into the grey mist and kept working.

For two straight days and nights the crews of the Ingata and Terinni worked, clearing the wreckage, finding and tending to the wounded and dead, repairing the flyer bay, cross-assigning the uninjured to perform the duties of the fallen. Finally, things began to settle down a bit. The Terinni had left, gunports open in mourning for the lost of both ships.

Neroon had ordered Durell, with the usual third shift crew, to go eat, sleep, and get cleaned up -- and not to report back before 0300 hours. Durell had protested, and Neroon had ended up threatening to assign a security detail to him to keep him in his quarters. It hadn't come down to that, of course. Alyt Durell had stalked off the bridge and back to his quarters, reappearing with the third shift crew in tow at exactly 0300 hours, all looking much more refreshed and level headed.

Shukran finished the change of shift briefing and silently fell in beside the Shai Alyt as he returned to his quarters. It dawned on her that neither of them had eaten since the accident.

Dinner over, the table cleared, Shukran stood over the dirty dishes, thankful that Neroon had simple tastes and had been content with soup. She rested her head against the cabinet and sagged slightly, exhausted.

Neroon finished reading the day's reports and poured himself another cup of tea. It was odd that Shukran should be taking so long to do so few dishes. The Shai Alyt looked up from his tea and smiled. He came up behind her quietly and gently laid his hand on her epaulette. She didn't budge. Carefully, he slid his arm around her, rotating her around so her head rested on his shoulder, then picked her up and carried her over to her alcove. He stood for a moment in front of her bed, deliberating whether or not he would wake her by removing her armor and boots, and decided to let her sleep in both. Gingerly, he placed her on her bed and backed away. Asleep like this, she looked very vulnerable, with dark circles under her eyes, a smudge of soot across her cheekbone, and a purplish bruise beginning to show along the ridge of her headbone. "Sleep well, Shukran."

Back in the kitchen, Neroon finished up the dishes, remembering his years as aide to Branmer, and how much he had appreciated the fact that his mentor had simple tastes, and was often content with soup.

-- continued in Part Two --