by Jim Laughter
The minister’s eyebrows furrowed. Rose smiled and clasped her hands together on the table in front of her.
“Do you remember you once advised a nervous teenage girl when she asked you how you know the direction of the Unseen One?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
“You said to go with the direction you feel led into even if it’s wrong, because he is big enough to dig you back out.”
“And I also said it is better to move in a wrong direction and be corrected than to not move at all out of fear,” the minister added, completing the story.
“So the service is the direction I feel led into.”
“In that case, Rose,” the minister said, reaching out and covering Rose’s hands where she had them clasped on the table, “go with the blessing of the Unseen One.”
And so she entered the service. Months later in the middle of the rigors of basic training, Rose began to have doubts. Everything seemed contrary. She was having difficulty with course material she felt she should have breezed through, especially with her background from the university. The physical training was exhausting to her, and after years of being able to get along with people, she was now constantly at odds with her fellow trainees. Not knowing what else to do she made an appointment to see a service chaplain.
“And how can I help you, Trainee Rose Sharon?” the Chaplain asked her, using the formal form of address required at that point in her training.
“I don’t know what to do,” Rose replied more informally. She realized her error and then restated it according to protocol. She then summed up the different problem areas she was experiencing.
The Chaplain pondered the moment. Finally, when Rose was close to jumping up and leaving, no matter the consequences, she spoke. “Have you considered that maybe the Unseen One already knows your difficulties and that this is part of His plan to refine you?”
With a start, Rose realized she had not. Her shock must have registered on her face.
“Consider the possibility that he has a place for you that will require and extraordinary degree of understanding,” the chaplain began. “The type of understanding that only comes from hard trials successfully mastered. Only a few dare hope of being so refined in the fires of adversity. What do you think now, Trainee?”
“That my current frustrations are a result of a lack of vision,” Rose said. “That in the course of daily pressures, I have lost sight of the larger picture. I must see things as the Unseen One sees them—from the outside looking in rather than my narrow point of view from the inside looking out.”
“You have spoken wisely, Trainee,” the Chaplain said. “What is your plan of action now?”
“To apply this new understanding.”
After that, the difficulties inherent in her training did not change so much as her attitude. Her drill instructors noted the change and so did her fellow trainees. It was after graduation that she spoke with the Chaplain again.
“Congratulations, Rose!” She could be informal now that Rose Sharon’s training regimen was complete.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You no longer have to observe training protocol,” the Chaplain admonished.
“I know that,” Rose said. “But I want to show my respect and my thanks for your help a while back.”
“You already knew the answer when you came,” the Chaplain said, smiling. “You will find it so throughout your work. Most people already know what they need to do. All a counselor does is help them bring it out where they can see it.”
“Yes, I see that now,” Rose agreed. “May I ask you a question?”
“I suspect this has something to do with your assignment posting.”
“Yes, it does,” Rose answered. “I decided to leave it wide open for any possible assignment where I am qualified.” The Chaplain was well aware of this. She had been part of the team evaluating the Trainees as they approached graduation.
“You’re wondering about being posted to one of the active battle fleets,” the Chaplain suggested.
“Not so much that,” Rose said, “but more along the lines of that refining process you mentioned to me months ago.”
“Don’t doubt yourself so much now. Go where He leads.”
So Rose Sharon, Trooper-Third, Lady of the Fleet, reported for duty with her new battle fleet. These were rough times because it was the early years of what the troopers referred to as the Onslaught. Red-tails were pressing the Axia continually in an attempt to wear the service down. Many a trooper, Rose included, doubted more than once that they would live to see another day. Many did not. But the rest carried on.
It was in the crucible of war that Rose found her niche. Her battle fleet was engaged in a running series of skirmishes with groups of Red-tail ships. One moment everything would be peaceful, the next moment, dozens of Red-tail ships would suddenly appear out of a transit tube and press the attack. Although the battle fleet was holding its own, the pressure was wearing everyone down. Bodies and minds were tired and nerves frayed. And in the midst of it all, Rose came to see herself and her crewmates in a different light.
Prior to this, she had been trained in the traditions of the service. Among the many virtues encouraged was duty. Most troopers felt a strong sense of duty and this would usually be enough to carry them for years. But when times were as trying as these, sometimes doing one’s duty was not enough. There was something more.
Rose discovered that what kept the troopers going in battle was more than duty. It was for lack of a better word, a calling. It was during these times of life and death when she really understood what it meant to “Keep the Faith”. What motivated the troopers to fight when nothing else sustained them was a deep-rooted belief in what they were doing; that it had purpose.
In that moment, Rose knew why she was here and what she must do. Only a soul tried in battle understands the hardships of another battle-weary soul. Only someone who has had to rely on that selfsame belief could understand the trials of combat. Sometimes that belief was battered and beaten down and it took someone who really understood the stress and pressures to help restore the battle veteran.
From that point of realization, things changed for Rose, first among her crewmates. She began to practice that reaching out, that touching of another soul her talents and training had prepared her for. Officers in authority over her noticed and soon she was detached from weapons duty to work solely with the support staff sustaining the combat troopers.
Rose flourished in her new duties. Many troopers were able to regain their bearings after time talking to her. She had that special touch that comes from joint hardships that enabled her to work with the battle-worn troopers, some of which she could help. These returned to their posts better able to face the enemy. Some she could not help. These were rotated out and sent back to be helped as they could. It frustrated the young Rose that often all she could do was what she called “First Aid for the Soul.” But in the heat of battle, it did make a difference.
After the Onslaught was past, Rose applied for reassignment. Support Services had been watching her ever since her talent had been reported. Her transfer was accepted and Rose found herself working with the more troubled troopers she had seen rotated out from the battle fleet. Here the work was long, frustrating, and often taxed her patience. But the rewards were also great. To see someone straighten themselves out and move on to a richer, fuller life was well worth it in her consideration.
But she found she did not just do counseling. Her experience in the battle fleet enabled Rose to have a rare empathy with the troopers. Rather than just give advice and counsel, she considered herself more of a guide through the dark and mysterious workings of the mind. Rose did not always understand how she connected with her fellow troopers but she recognized that it worked. She thanked the Unseen One that she was able to help as many as she did. She had risen through the ranks ahead of her peers and was recommended by her commanders to attend the Axia Officer Academy years ahea
d of her peers. Her new rank of Lieutenant glistened on her collar, but deep in her soul she remained the simple girl searching for her place in the universe.
And now here she was with yet another troubled soul. Working on an almost freelance basis within the Support Services allowed Rose to seek out the tough cases. The discernment she showed in helping these troopers became a matter of record.
Rose surmised that Leatha would need time and effort if anything were to be resolved. Obviously, the young captain carried a certain amount of mental baggage that Rose would have to help her face. Whatever was troubling Leatha was more than simple battle fatigue. Something was gnawing on her from the inside. Something in her past was begging to be freed. Leatha would have to be the one to open the door. Only then could she hear what her heart was trying to say. Rose could only be there to guide her in this work.
Rose looked across the room at Leatha. The young captain had not moved since her earlier outburst. This was not unexpected. Rose reviewed what she had gleaned from the young captain’s file.
Besides the usual listing of posts and positions, there had been many addendums added by different commanders, supervisors, and trainers. Leatha’s temperament was well suited for the captaincy of one of the FAR ships. Her reflexes were exceptional and she had a bent at tactical that was definitely a plus on a Fast Attack/Recon vessel. Rose had taken time to review the part of Leatha’s service record that dealt with the Red-tail attack where she had been wounded. That alone should explain the aggressiveness she had shown whenever encountering the enemy.
But Rose suspected that there was more. Deep within this young captain was something that overshadowed even her combat experience. Whatever it was, it had made a lasting impression on Leatha. There seemed to be an almost primordial loathing for the Red-tails within this young woman. Rose could sense it. But beyond that, she drew a blank.
Rose noted there had been very little information about Leatha’s early years in the file. No record of a family. She had come out of an orphanage for displaced children, and although no formal schooling was noted, she had handily passed all the equivalency tests. One brief note by an induction evaluator had noted that she seemed lean, hungry, and always a bit combative, not in a disruptive way but always watching her back, always looking for the unseen danger in every situation.
Rose pondered all this while she watched Leatha. The young captain was still slumped in her chair the way her last outburst had laid her. So many questions, Rose thought as her experienced eye caught almost imperceptible movements, betraying Leatha’s agitation. Who are you really? Where did you come from? What happened back then that even you do not want to know? Rose sighed and noticed Leatha squeeze her eyes shut. Here we go! The journey begins!
Leatha found herself of more than one mind. On one hand, she desperately wanted to keep her eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to avoid the images flooding her mind. On the other, a more reasonable hand, she knew keeping her eyes shut would not change what was happening.
I am going crazy. Another thought forced itself into her consciousness. No you are not! Finally, Leatha opened her eyes.
There across from her in the now darkened room was the familiar form of Rose Sharon. Even in the dim light Leatha thought she could read the older woman’s expression of sympathetic strength. As the internal turmoil raged within her, Leatha latched onto that strength like a drowning victim grasps a floating log in a flood.
Slowly, her thoughts began to sort themselves out. The emotional whirlwind that buffeted her soul ebbed. Bit by bit Leatha found connecting thoughts and began to make sense of what had been a blinding confusion. Taking courage, she closed her eyes again and tried to focus on the thoughts running through her mind at that moment.
Instantly, she was huddled behind a pile of brush, peering out across a scorched field at a large pile of alien wreckage. Leatha recognized the memory as being from her early teen years. She wasn’t exactly sure where she had seen it, but by the color of the sky, it wasn’t the home she had known as an innocent child.
Leatha resisted the temptation to draw back. Whether she was awake or dreaming didn’t matter right now. Something about what her mind was dredging up was important. Of that she felt confident. And if this is a memory, then I obviously survived it or I wouldn’t be here, so I am safe, she found herself thinking. Reinforced by her own logic, she let herself slide back into the flashing images in her mind.
Looking around the scraggy bush, the scared child took in all the details at a glance. The sky had an odd orange hue; the ground was harsh and rocky. The air smelled of burnt ozone. But more importantly, it didn’t smell of them!
She found herself glancing quickly from side to side, looking for something. Yes! There it is! The sensor thing up on that pole. Then another movement caught her eye. The young Leatha, the ragged Leatha grinned. She waited for her friends to move again. That was part of the plan. Distract the sensor while she did her work.
The blurry image in her mind began to sharpen and she could clearly see her younger self crouched low behind the outcropping of brush. Warily, she watched the sensor high on its pole. Time froze while she waited and tried not to breathe. Must not make noise, she thought. I never make noise! ragged Leatha remembered telling the adult who had instructed her. I am the fastest! I will get the part!
Adrenalin pumped through her thin body. Tensing for the dash, she waited for the sensor to begin tracking her friends. They were the decoy. Some of them may be caught or killed. It didn’t matter as long as she got the part. That alone was critical to her at that moment. She focused on it with an obsessive intensity. There! It’s starting to move!
The thin but quick girl dashed noiselessly across the burnt gravel surrounding the scrap pile. In the distance, she could hear her friends making noise and moving around. By constantly shifting their positions, they would keep the automated sensor trained on them while Leatha ran unobserved to the pile.
In seconds she was at the pile and hidden among the wreckage. She was in the right spot. Much effort had been expended to make sure where she would need to go in the pile to retrieve the critical part. Chances were few and they didn’t have time or people to waste in a fruitless effort. It was only a matter of time before they discovered what was going on. Then they would come to kill them all.
Ragged Leatha fumbled frantically among the scrap pile, searching for something that matched what she had been shown. An adult called it a modulator and showed the girl the remains of a burned out one. It had to be replaced or they could never go away from here. Finding it was all that mattered.
She carefully lifted damaged panels and scraps looking for the modulator. A recent escapee assured them he had seen one in the pile while part of a work detail cleaning up after a wreck. That was when the plan was made for Leatha to retrieve it. There it is! She grabbed it and stuffed it down her ragged shirt where it would be safe from falling out.
Glancing around, she spotted a few other interesting gadgets she couldn’t identify. Knowing they may be useful to the adults, the girl added them to her load and secured it all by knotting the worn fabric. It used to be pink, intruded the thought in her younger self. The girl savagely pushed the thought from her mind. She must now concentrate on her escape.
Looking out from her viewpoint in the wreckage, the ragged youth watched the sensor. It was still tracking her friends as they ran back and forth through the low scrub. Noting its line of vision, Leatha planned her escape route to avoid it spotting her.
A hot breeze suddenly sprang up and just as quickly died. Leatha took a tentative sniff of the air. She smelled lots of things - the burnt air, the scent of the scrub, the odd smells of the scrap pile, and even her own fear. Funny thing was she didn’t feel fear. Fear had to be ruthlessly thrust from one’s mind to survive here. Most important, however, was that she didn’t smell them.
Taking a final glance at the sensor, Leatha knew it was time. Like a shot, she was out of the pile and running low and si
lent toward the waiting scrub. Out of habit, she zigged and zagged at irregular intervals. Such habits had kept her alive so far, especially when they were after her. Someone had taught her that long ago but when she tried to remember who, all she could see was a blurry adult face looking at her.
An energy discharge just to her left burned a tree as she zagged right. Another discharge melted a metal container further away. She kept shifting her direction. Her nose told her what her senses had already discerned—they were after her! Doubling her effort, she dove head first into the scrub brush just as another energy discharge hit behind her, igniting the brush.
But she was safe! They never followed into the brush. They didn’t seem to think it was necessary. They ruled this place and no matter what the captives did, they could not escape. Some had gotten away from the compounds and were running free out in the scrub surrounding the installation, but they could never escape the planet. They would be caught eventually. In the meantime, they might breed and make more humans to be rounded up for harvest.
But the escapees had different plans than to be the quarry for their captors in this awful place. If they had any idea what was being planned by their fodder, they would have annihilated the human population when they had the chance. Having the superior position in the situation had blinded them to just how desperate and ingenious their former captives were.
The ragged girl continued her run through the scrub, still dodging this way and that. Then she spotted the hidden warren hole among the brush. With a forward roll, she dove in and slid down into the darkness. Welcoming hands reached out to slow and stop her at the bottom. The young, ragged Leatha couldn’t see them but she welcomed their touch.
I am safe! she thought as she stood up in the dim light and saw the dark forms around her. Then one of the adults squatted down in front of her and held out his scarred hands. Triumphantly, Leatha brought out her prizes, including the critical modulator. Even in the darkness she could see the smiles around her.
