Ranger Dawning Read online

  ‘Cheer up, my friend,’ chirped a voice from his right. Vance didn’t recognise the accent, but as he looked up the face seemed very familiar. ‘Anyone would think the Great Maker himself were hunting your soul.’

  A Centauri sporting a hooked nose and pronounced paunch regarded Vance with a stare both amused and concerned. He had never actually met a Centauri before, and Vance was stunned at the forceful personality of this one. He sat and watched the mane-haired alien, fearing some kind of telepathic con trick.

  ‘Surely it cannot be that bad,’ the Centauri continued. Although I see you have turned to drink, and so early in the day. What is your tipple?’ The Centauri leaned forward and, upon spying the Rubbles bottle in Vance’s grip, stuck out his tongue. ‘Ach, disgusting! It amazes me how you humans can stomach such a thing. Beer! Now tell me, have you ever tried Brevari?’ The Centauri said that final word like he was speaking the name of a favourite lover.

  Vance could only shake his head. The Centauri had caught him completely off guard. ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘the supply they have here is a little substandard but palatable nonetheless. Barkeep!’ The Centauri banged on the bar.

  Vance looked around, certain that by now a crowd would have gathered to see why the Centauri was making such a fuss. Strangely, the entire bar seemed completely apathetic, some even looking as though they were purposefully ignoring the Centauri. The bartender glanced over his shoulder, barely acknowledging his brash customer who was even now wagging his finger at a bottle on one of the shelves. The bartender nodded and placed the bottle in front of the Centauri.

  ‘Two glasses please. I am about to introduce my new friend to a fresh experience.’ The Centauri looked up suddenly. ‘My apologies, I have neglected to introduce myself. I am Londo Mollari, ambassador for the Centauri Republic.’ He held out his hand. Vance grasped it warily.

  ‘Vance. They just call me Vance.’

  Londo shook Vance’s hand vigorously then wasted no time pouring two generous draughts from the decanter-shaped bottle. ‘Please, please. Put down that gaudy looking bottle of beer. Trust me, when you have tried this, you will never look back.’ He handed one of the glasses to Vance. The liquid resembled brandy, but as Vance raised it to his lips he could smell a sweet, pungent aroma. Londo flicked back the glass, allowing the Brevari to slip down his throat. A smile crossed his face, and he slammed the glass down on the bar. Vance, thinking it the proper way, followed suit. He had tasted an array of alcoholic beverages in his time, but this was entirely different. As the liquid slipped down his throat, it burned with a strange cold sensation and seemed to cling to his insides. The aftertaste was slightly aniseedy.

  ‘Good, yes?’ shouted Londo, slapping Vance’s back and nodding so vigorously the enormous tuft of hair atop his head wagged like a happy dog’s tail. Vance was lost for words. ‘Excellent! Another! Then we will discuss why you have come to this hive of villainy in the, how do you humans say... “ass end of nowhere”.’

  Vance desperately wanted to answer, but the Brevari coated his larynx like a quick-setting adhesive. Londo filled both glasses once again and swigged his down immediately. Vance picked up his own glass and, with a half-hearted smile, drank deeply. Strangely, the second glass seemed to counteract some of the side effects of the first, and his throat cleared once again.

  Anyway,’ began the Ambassador, ‘I was in the Emperor’s Palace on Centauri Prime as a young man, when I saw one of the courtiers, a beautiful specimen, staring at me rather suggestively...’

  Vance glanced at his watch, noting through a Brevari-induced fog that it read 1857. He had no idea how much he had drunk, but the room slid around him in a manner that suggested it might have been a drop or three too much. Londo had regaled him with tales of the Centauri Empire for almost two-and-a-half hours. Vance wasn’t sure if he’d actually managed to speak a single word in that time, but he didn’t mind. The bombastic Centauri had certainly taken his mind off his concerns.

  ‘My apologies, Ambassador, but I must leave. I have a rather important dinner appointment.’ Londo stopped halfway through a rendition of a particularly bawdy Centauri drinking song. He smiled and clapped Vance on the shoulder. Vance realised the shoulder ached and wondered how many times this Centauri had struck him there. He imagined he was getting a taste of what Randell felt like after a sparring match.

  ‘Nice talking to you, my friend,’ Londo said.

  I bet it was, thought Vance as he stepped away from the bar. The room began to tilt slightly, and Vance steadied himself before continuing. He could only guess what the Colonel would say when he turned up in this state, but what the hell. A grown man could do whatever he wanted. A corporal in EarthForce, about to be promoted into the best covert operations unit in the galaxy, answered to no one. Nobody could intimidate him, not even his father.

  The journey to the Fresh Air Restaurant proved a wholly unpleasant experience. The Brevari left a sickly sensation in the pit of his stomach, and Vance now understood why Londo advised him to keep drinking the stuff. He couldn’t wait for the hangover. The shuttle stopped in Green Sector, and Vance stepped off. The Fresh Air Restaurant waited at the end of a trail of well-dressed couples and exotic-looking aliens. The restaurant itself rested next to the hydroponic area, and the resulting smell was the most refreshing Vance had experienced since boarding the station.

  Vance glanced down at his watch once more: 1907. The Colonel wouldn’t like that one bit; he hated tardiness. Taking a deep breath in the vain hope it would clear his head, Vance marched up to a man with greasy hair and an expensive-looking tuxedo. ‘Excuse me,’ said Vance, trying his best to sound sober. ‘I have an appointment to see Colonel Vance. We have a table booked for seven.’

  The man stared at Vance nonplussed. Vance raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you telling me for,’ said the man. ‘Who do you think I am, the maitre’d?’ With that the man walked past Vance and left the restaurant.

  The sudden ominous sound of someone clearing his throat made Vance turn slowly. The frowning face of his father glared at him from a table not ten feet away. Vance smiled and nodded. The Colonel continued to frown. ‘Are you going to sit,’ he asked, ‘or continue to harass the other customers?’

  Vance marched forward, trying his best to appear sober. So far it seemed to be working. He sat opposite his father and leaned on the table. ‘Elbows,’ said the Colonel. ‘You’re not in the mess hall now.’

  Childhood memories flooded back as Vance re-lived a thousand dinner table scoldings. As much as he tried to resist obeying his father, he sat up straight, almost to attention. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don’t mind.’ Vance remained silent, trying to look anywhere but directly at his father. The journey from the Zocalo had done some good in clearing his head a little. Being in the presence of the Colonel was sobering enough on its own.

  ‘Your promotion was well deserved, I hear. Congratulations. You must be proud of yourself

  ‘Did we really come hear to discuss my promotion, Colonel? Or is there something specific? I hardly believe you summoned me halfway across the galaxy so you could congratulate me in person.’

  The Colonel looked awkward, as though he were a schoolboy caught stealing. Vance had never seen his father look that way before. Something was definitely wrong. ‘You’re right. This was never intended as a social meeting. I have a very important request. Consider it... an assignment.’

  ‘I’m not under your command, Colonel. You hold ranking seniority, but I answer to my superiors on Earth, not to you.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that.’ The Colonel’s jaw was locked. Although Vance had him at an advantage, he felt no satisfaction. ‘The mission I need you to carry out is of the utmost importance. However, it will be outside the remit of EarthForce.’

  ‘Whatever it is, Colonel, I can’t. In addition to the fact that I don’t take my orders from you, I’m due to enlist in the Razvedchiks in two weeks. I can’t plan and execute a mission in that time.’
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  ‘I understand,’ said the Colonel. ‘That’s why I need you to turn down your promotion.’

  Vance felt like he’d been slapped in the face. This must be some kind of joke. He laughed, a forced chuckle accentuated by his light-headedness. When the Colonel’s face didn’t crack, Vance knew he was in trouble. ‘You can’t be serious. After everything I’ve been through to get this promotion. It’s all I’ve wanted for the past five years, and you want me to just turn it down?’ Vance’s voice rose to an embarrassing level. The Colonel looked fleetingly from side to side, fielding the awkward glances being fired in their direction.

  A waiter suddenly appeared at Vance’s shoulder bearing two plates. ‘Calamari marinara,’ he said, lovingly laying the plates in front of the two men. Vance didn’t have much of an opinion on fine dining, but seafood he hated. He didn’t complain, but neither did he eat. The Colonel didn’t pick up his starter fork either, and both men simply glared at each other for several seconds.

  ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless it was crucial to EarthForce. Even more than that, it’s crucial to the future of the entire galaxy.’ The Colonel whispered this, but every word was clear and precise.

  Vance shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. ‘Would mom think so?’ He spat the words with a venom that shocked even himself.

  The Colonel leaned back in his chair. ‘Do we need to bring this up every time--’

  ‘Every time what, Colonel? Every time we see each other? Which has been what, once in the past five years?’ Vance’s voice grew louder once more. ‘Do you remember that day? Mother’s funeral? You only missed her by a couple of days. She died thinking you’d been killed on one of your missions. It wasn’t bad enough that you disappeared through the whole of the Minbari War, but you had to volunteer afterward, taking on missions to God knows where.’

  ‘You applied to join the Razvedchiks yourself. Don’t you think they’ll send you on dangerous missions?’

  ‘I don’t have a family!’ Vance shouted. The restaurant went silent, all eyes turning their way. This time the Colonel didn’t look around apologetically. He and Vance stared at one another again. Vance heard footsteps behind him, probably the maitre’d or owner. The Colonel looked past him, at whoever was approaching. He didn’t say a word, nor did he have to; the look on his face could have dissuaded a charging bull. The footsteps stopped and then retreated in the opposite direction. Vance never took his eyes off his father.

  ‘Despite what you think of me, this mission is too important for you to turn down.’ The Colonel’s voice was quiet and controlled once more.

  ‘Because you’re young, you’re the best and not least of all, because you’re my son.’

  Vance almost reeled. Many years had passed since he’d heard his father utter that rare admittance.

  ‘I’m sorry, Colonel, but it’s out of the question. I intend to join up with the Razvedchiks, and nothing will stop me.’

  ‘Don’t you even want to hear the details? I guarantee you’ll be intrigued at the very least.’

  ‘Can’t hurt, I suppose,’ said Vance, picking up his fork and girding himself enough to pierce one of the undercooked squid carcasses on his oversized plate.

  ‘Good,’ said the Colonel. ‘Obviously everything I’m about to tell you is deemed confidential under the Earth-Force Military Secrets Act.’ He paused, waiting for Vance to acknowledge what he had just said. Vance nodded. ‘I was recently contacted by an old colleague of mine, Commander Jeffrey Sinclair. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him?’

  Vance swallowed a half-chewed piece of the rubbery invertebrate. ‘Pilot in the Minbari War. Highly decorated. Used to run this place until he took a position as Earth Ambassador to Minbar. We learned about him in Military History.’

  ‘Well, Sinclair and I were at the Academy together. We went our separate ways when he signed on as an Ensign in the EarthForce Fleet and I joined Ground Forces. We saw each other from time to time and kept in touch, but I hadn’t heard from him in years. Until two weeks ago. I received a communiqué from Minbar. To my surprise, Jeff asked for an urgent meeting. Naturally I agreed--Jeff’s an old war buddy, so I checked out his recent history to make sure nothing serious was going on.’ Vance resisted the temptation to smile at his father’s typical caution, strong enough to check up on an old friend he hadn’t seen for a while, just in case there was a chance of getting caught in a compromising position.

  ‘The Minbari seemed to trust Jeff, which is strange, because they don’t trust anyone, least of all humans.’ The Colonel wiped his mouth with his napkin and continued. ‘I went along, as I had some leave. So I met up with Jeff in the Minbari capital, Yedor. We talked about old times for a while, but I could tell there was something on his mind. Like he was making small talk but all the while trying to size me up. Then he asked if I wanted to see where he was staying. I agreed, thinking he maybe wanted to show me how well he was doing. So, we left and boarded a Minbari flyer. I didn’t think anything of it, since Yedor is a massive metropolitan centre, and flyers are common, but when I saw we were leaving the city, I started to get a little worried.’

  Vance could only imagine what his father’s version of ‘worried’ was. This was a man who had spent years keeping himself alive behind enemy lines, surviving inhospitable environments where any second some hostile could try to cut him limb from limb.

  ‘We flew to a different city about a thousand klicks away. I’d never seen anything like it, and when I asked Jeff, he told me it was called Tuzanor, the City of Sorrows. When we landed, we were met by what I suppose was an honour guard of elite Minbari warriors. To top it all off, it turned out Jeff was one of their leaders. Don’t ask me how or why, but suddenly Sinclair, one of the best pilots in the fleet that held the Line against the Minbari, had gone from ambassador to a leader of one of their military regiments.’

  The Colonel went silent at the sound of approaching feet. The waiter arrived with their main dishes, and the smell of fresh veal washed over them. Vance was almost blown away by the aroma. Certainly an improvement on squid. As the waiter glided away, the Colonel began once more.

  ‘They are known as the Anla’shok, or Rangers, if you want a literal English translation. Their order is thousands of years old, dating back to the days of Valen.’ Vance recognised the name of the ancient Minbari warrior who had supposedly turned the tide of a legendary Minbari conflict. ‘They exist solely to patrol the galaxy in secret, waiting for the return of an ancient evil.’ Vance frowned at the ridiculous turn this conversation was taking, made worse by the fact that his father was spewing this nonsense. ‘Jeff told me that this ancient evil was returning, and the Anla’shok were the only ones who could stop it.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Vance had heard enough. ‘You brought me all this way to tell me some hocus-pocus story an old war buddy of yours fed you? I think you were on Minbar a little too long. Are you sure it’s not something they put in the water, Colonel--’

  Vance was cut off by the Colonel’s fist slamming into the table. By this time the rest of the restaurant’s patrons had learned to mind their business.

  ‘Dammit boy, you listen to me.’ Vance had been spoken to harshly by his father for much of his childhood, but he had never seen him like this. ‘This is serious. I’ve been there and I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what they can do. Sinclair showed me evidence of what’s to come, and I’ll tell you James, it scared me.’ More than anything, that last statement grabbed Vance’s attention. His father had been on more covert missions than Vance could comprehend, faced death hundreds of times, and survived situations in which anyone else would have been killed. If something scared the Colonel, it must be worth fearing. ‘The Anla’shok have been preparing for a thousand years for a war that will soon begin. They need recruits, Minbari and human, if they have any chance of beating this enemy. Sinclair told me they need more men, capable warriors who can fight covertly, move without being seen and kill without being heard. They need more recruits, but Minb
ar simply does not have the warriors to spare. Sinclair approached me to find men from Earth to join their number, but they need to be men I know I can trust. Who better to send him than my own son.’

  ‘We don’t have a minute, James. Shadows are coming. I need to find recruits who can pass their training methods and prove their worth to the Anla’shok. I need you to become one of the first human Rangers!’

  The Flaming Crucible

  Had the Colonel completely lost his mind? Maybe the Minbari messed with his mind or tortured him in vengeance for his contribution to the war effort against them. Maybe this Sinclair had been indoctrinated into some Minbari sect and was now trying to turn his father too. Vance simply had no response to the Colonel’s outrageous request. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, with nothing to break the silence but the lilting hum of idle chatter drifting across the restaurant. Any minute, Vance expected the Colonel’s face to crack into a smile and admit he was joking. But the thought of his father joking was an even more ridiculous idea than the Minbari wanting him to join a secret sect of warriors to fight some ancient, mythical evil.

  ‘I know it’s difficult to believe, James, but this is real. Sinclair and the Anla’shok showed me their archives, what they are preparing for. They are desperate for fresh blood, and their only hope is to enlist humans and members of their Worker and Religious Castes. The Warrior Caste has mostly refused to allow any of its members to join the Rangers due to Sinclair’s appointment as their leader. It’s up to the human recruits to show the way. If they can pass the Anla’shok training, it will show they are worthy to join. I need the best, James. You’re the best.’