by Evan Currie
Something in his expression must have brought the woman’s focus back, though, as her eyes stopped their flicking about to focus sharply on him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, expression now entirely intent on him in a way it hadn’t been just a moment earlier.
“Nothing,” Dalton said, a little more gruffly than he intended.
She seemed to lose focus again, then abruptly turned to look over at the Xeno for a moment.
“He’s not as calm as he looks,” she said, an amused tone in her voice.
“How…?”
Sorilla gestured vaguely. “Lucians have different body language than humans, Dalton. Kriss is tense, alert, but keeping any hints of it under control. Same as the others.”
Dalton looked at her sternly for a moment, but she just smiled brightly back at him until he shook his head. “The Church entrance is up ahead…”
They walked around to the front of the cathedral, and Sorilla was taken by the scene that felt like she’d walked through a time warp into something far before her time.
Churches on Earth were historical sites more and more, and the number that were still holding services seemed to drop every year. She’d never been one to spend time in one of them personally, but like most people serving, she had spent a fair amount of time with one chaplain or another over the years. She didn’t know whether God existed, but once in a while everyone needed to vent to someone who wasn’t going to be armed to the teeth and watching your back the next day.
It always felt a little strange kicking down a door with a buddy you’d just raged at the night before, no matter how often it happened.
There was a man in black greeting people at the door, and Sorilla couldn’t help but wince and extend a line of silent sympathy to him. Wearing black in the heat they were dealing with couldn’t be comfortable.
“Padre.” Dalton tipped his hat to the man.
“Ranger.” The padre smiled back, looking over the group, eyes widening just slightly as he spotted Kriss. “Who are your…friends?”
“From out of town,” Dalton said simply.
“Yes, I’d gathered that, at least in part.”
“The rest of us as well,” Sorilla smiled, extending a hand. “Padre.”
He took is carefully, shaking it firmly, but his eyes continued to graze over the group. “Where from out of town, if I might ask?”
“Southern States, originally,” she said. “Grew up in northern Mexico, though. Earth, of course.”
“Of course,” he replied quizzically, looking at Kriss again. “Have the Xenos claimed Earth as well?”
Sorilla shook her head. “One of them tried to take our colonies, but we managed to hold them back. Exchanged control of that colony a few times through the war, but it ended in the same hands it started in. We have a treaty with the Alliance at the moment. Neither of us are really in any position to take on the other…for now.”
“Fascinating,” the padre said. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Father Egrid.”
“Father.” Sorilla nodded. “Sorilla Aida, colonel out of SOLCOM. This is my second, Major Strickland. Corporals Farrel and Smith. The Lucian is Sentinel Kriss. He’s Alliance Special Operations.”
Father Egrid greeted each of them in turn, pausing briefly before doing the same to Kriss finally.
“Well,” he said, “a momentous occasion, then, visitors from the Father World. Welcome, all of you. Please come in and experience our church.”
Sorilla nodded her acceptance, the group stepping toward the door as she did. Dalton stepped in front of Kriss quickly, however.
“You’ll need to wait outside.”
“Nonsense! Shame on you, Ranger Dalton!” Father Egrid chastised him. “All are welcome in the house of the Lord.”
“But, Father!”
“No, the doors of this church will be barred to no man so long as I am in charge of them.”
“That is no man!” Dalton protested.
“It is not a problem, I can wait,” Kriss said stiffly.
“I will not have it,” Egrid said firmly. “The house of the Lord is for all those of his creation. Ranger, stand aside and let them man…erm…”
Sorilla stepped quietly to his side and whispered in the padre’s ear, causing him to smile.
“Let the Lucian pass,” he said.
“Of course, Padre,” Dalton said, hesitant, but finally stepping aside.
Sorilla quickly looked around. They’d gathered a crowd, and she couldn’t be happier, as she recorded images of every expression on every face. Most were more curious than anything, she noted, a few were standing taller and looking with admiration at the padre…and just about as many were clearly fuming, though keeping their tempers in check.
She had the images compressed and loaded for another pulse to the SOL.
Egrid led them inside, and Sorilla couldn’t quite mask the sharp breath she sucked in as she saw the interior for the first time.
The cathedral left her with an impression of being bigger on the inside than it could possibly have been from the outside, an impressive feat in itself considering how large it was on the outside. She had a flashback in that moment, the fighting inside the Ross’El portal ships causing her to stumble slightly.
“Are you alright?” Egrid asked, undisguised concern in his tone, his face, and his body language.
Sorilla found herself instantly liking the padre more and more. He had an honesty about him that she’d rarely encountered.
“Fine, Padre,” she said firmly, taking a moment. “Just flashed back to an uglier time.”
“The Church hold bad memories for you?”
“No, nothing like that,” Sorilla said. “I did a lot of fighting in the Ghoulies’ starships. They’re technically members of the Alliance, though only because the Alliance members don’t want them running around on their own. The church here made me think of that time for a moment.”
“My church reminded you of fighting in a Xeno starship?” Egrid seemed bemused by how that might be possible.
“Please, take it as a compliment,” Sorilla said firmly. “The Ghoulies are masters of space-time in ways no one else has ever approached. Your church reminded me of their ship because of how you made it seem larger on the inside than the outside… For them, however, it is no illusion.”
Her audience seemed shocked by that for a moment before Egrid broke the silence again.
“I would not have imagined such a thing was possible,” he said, frankly stunned.
Kriss grumbled, “The Ross’El are noted for doing many things thought impossible…things that any sane universe would see as impossible.”
Sorilla grimaced slightly, another set of memories flashing to her. “They’re as close to demons as I’ve ever met, Padre…though I think what makes it even worse is that I don’t believe they’re actually evil. Just so disconnected from the world as we understand it that they don’t see us as thinking beings. And because communication is all but impossible with them, no one can convince them otherwise.”
“You are kinder toward them than most Alliance members,” Kriss said, darkly amused by that.
“The Alliance suffered through a much nastier war with them than we did.” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not important. You have a magnificent cathedral here, Padre.”
Egrid looked at her evenly for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “I think it is anything but unimportant, but I thank you for the compliment on the premises.”
“I was telling Dalton earlier that it may be unmatched by any I’ve seen, save perhaps Vatican City, and I think that still holds, but the interior is more stunning than even that,” she said, examining the stained glass that filtered the external light into the massive space within.
“You’ve been to the Vatican?” Egrid asked, surprised. “Our histories seemed to imply that it would likely be overrun by nonbelievers by now.”
Sorilla laughed. “Still its own sovereign state, Padre. The power of the ch
urch isn’t what it once was, that’s true enough, but the core remains.”
“That is good to hear,” the padre said as they walked down the stone floor of the cathedral, toward a panoramic art display that swept from the floor to ceiling, encompassing everything in between.
Sorilla examined it silently, noting that it told the story of the colony as it left Earth and crossed the intervening space. She examined the images from Earth, unsurprised that they showed scenes of war and tragedy. The scenes of the crossing were filled with biblical references, and the world of Arkana was depicted interestingly as well.
She looked at the image of the world from orbit, noting that they’d shown it as barren except for one dot of green. That was not strictly true, not now anyway, but there was no doubt in her mind that the river delta she currently stood on was that point of green.
A new Eden then, Sorilla supposed.
“Beautiful,” she said aloud as she recorded the entire mural for later analysis with her implants.
“It is but our humble declaration of intent before the Lord God,” Egrid said, actually managing to sound humble as he did.
Sorilla smiled at him, admiring the honest and earnest belief the man held.
She’d met a lot of “men of God” over the years, some good…most mediocre…and a few as bad as any men she’d ever known. The good ones always left her in a state of awe like little else. There was something about a good man in the service of the Lord that brought out the best in ways that few other callings did.
“The Alliance willing,” Sorilla nodded to Kriss, “I would not be shocked if you saw pilgrims arrive in the future, just to see this place. You’ve done something I’ve not seen matched on any other world, Father. This is an accomplishment to be proud of.”
“Pride is a sin in the eyes of the Lord,” Egrid said softly, but he was smiling. “We did what we were called upon to do. No more and no less.”
There was nothing more to say, so she just bowed slightly as the group continued their tour of the cathedral. Sorilla paid closer attention to the people watching them, particularly their reactions to Kriss. The church was impressive, but the social data she was gathering was invaluable. Still, she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger for a moment on the carved swastikas set on either side of the cross for a moment, only just able to disguise her grimace as a smile that she knew must have looked pained.
They were exiting the church when Dalton received a call, the timing almost making Sorilla snort, as his radio had chirped almost the moment he’d stepped outside. He quietly separated himself from the group, speaking low enough that most people wouldn’t have a chance of hearing him.
He clearly wasn’t used to dealing with enhanced humans. The implants in every single SOLCOM operative were more than capable of isolating sounds—speech most certainly—and amplifying it.
Chapter 9
“Yes, what is it?” Dalton growled, knowing just who was calling and plenty unhappy with the man because of the mess he’d been put into the middle of.
“The Elder would like to meet your guests.”
“I don’t suppose you have a better plan than the last one?” he asked, sarcastic. “You know, the one that nearly got us all killed.”
“They were clearly not looking for trouble, Ranger. The threat of death on your part was low,” Grant assured him calmly. “Eri wishes to meet with them, now.”
“No clever plot this time, then?” Dalton demanded. “I just invite them?”
“That will be fine, yes.”
“Well thank the Lord for his smallest mercies,” Dalton snorted. “I’ll extend the invite. If they refuse, however, I’m not trying to force the issue.”
“They will not,” Grant said calmly. “They’re here to gather information. Refusing the invitation would go against their mission.”
“Information for what?” Dalton hissed, suddenly concerned.
“That isn’t any of your concern.”
“Like hells it isn’t!” he growled sharply. “I’m the lead Ranger here and—”
Grant cut him off. “A position that can easily be filled by someone else. Elder Eri will be at the Red Room.”
The signal went dead, leaving Dalton glaring at his radio, his knuckles tightening around the device until they were white from the pressure. He finally relaxed a bit and loosened his grip before slowly returning his radio to its pouch and turning back. He forced a smile he didn’t feel, approaching the group of off-worlders.
“I’ve been informed that one of the colony Elders would like to meet with you,” he told Sorilla directly.
She didn’t look surprised as she nodded slowly. “That would be fine. It would be rude to refuse, after all.”
“I suppose it would,” Dalton said, gesturing to his patrol vehicle. “I’ll run you over there, of course, and ensure you have transport back to your own vehicle. The Elder is waiting at the Red Room.”
*****
The Red Room was apparently something of a local centerpiece itself, Sorilla decided as she noted that the care taken with the finishing of the building that proudly proclaimed the name was very near, if not matching, the quality of the work done of the Cathedral of Arkana itself.
The building itself was imposing, less Gothic than the cathedral, more with a Roman quality to it. Like many other buildings of import she’d recorded, the heavy symbolism around it was thick with religious and political iconography.
Sorilla paused as they approached it, examining the statues on either side of the approach with care.
“The ship’s captain,” Dalton told her as she looked at one, a hint of real reverence she’d not even heard in the church as he gestured to another, “and the Founder himself.”
Sorilla had seen both men’s file photographs, and doubted that either of them had ever looked as good as they were portrayed in the local stone carving, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell the Ranger that.
On Earth, they were both considered monsters. Here, they’re almost Gods.
The universe had a strange sense of humor, she rather thought as she walked past the two statues and up the broad stairs, past roman pillars. Perspective is everything.
Big wooden doors opened as they approached, a man in a dark suit stepping out to greet them.
“Welcome to the Red Room.” He bowed his head, almost hiding a grimace as he took in the combat gear most of the men were wearing and failing completely as he looked over Sorilla herself. “Your host has set aside rooms for you to refresh yourselves. Suitable clothing will be provided.”
It’s going to be one of those days, Sorilla thought, much more successful at hiding her own grimace.
“Thank you.” She nodded curtly back, sweeping past him with a disregard she would normally not even consider, recognizing the shift in culture they were walking into.
She was more of a specialist in what many would consider the more backward cultures on Earth. Living in the field, eating what you killed…in many ways those were where she felt most at home. That didn’t mean she hadn’t studied others, however. Often one could be taken by surprise by how quickly one could go from a field camp to some hopped-up general’s ball where being polite to the wrong person was a sign of weakness.
All things considered, Sorilla had always preferred the field camps, but she knew her way around both.
*****
“So,” Eri said as he watched from the upper level, “these are the Earthers then.”
“Yes, sir,” Grant said simply. “Don’t be fooled by the woman’s appearance, sir. She is…formidable.”
“Indeed.” Eri nodded. He’d seen the video of the incident, and had been impressed. His family had been known to hire some of the best gunslingers on Arkana in their day, but he’d never seen speed like that.
He rather wished that they’d been able to get recordings of her in actual action, as he would like to know how her accuracy with her guns compared to those in his employ.
An idea, perhaps, he
supposed.
“She is rather…interesting,” he said finally, undecided whether he considered her attractive or not. “You’ve seen to providing them with appropriate clothing?”
“Of course.”
“The Xeno as well?” Eri said, lips curling slightly.
Grant hesitated, but nodded finally. “Yes, sir.”
“I know it’s distasteful, Grant, and I agree…however, needs must, always.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eri sighed, putting that aside for the moment. “Ensure that her clothing is of fitting quality. Send in a proper seamstress.”
Grant had expected that, knowing his employer’s preferences. “Already ordered.”
The Elder, a young man of thirty, smiled.
“You know me too well.”
*****
The interior of the Red Room showed where the building had gotten its name.
Thick red carpets and tapestries filled the hall; gold accents on most surfaces made the color pop against the slight reddish hue of the local stone and sand the place had been built with. Sorilla had been in more ostentatious locales in her day, but not many.
“This way, lady, gentlemen…sir,” the butler, she supposed he had to be, said, only slightly sneering at Kriss as he directed them.
Sorilla said nothing, merely followed along as they were led into an antechamber for a luxuriously appointed suite. Doors off to either side led to private rooms, and she could see, with a glance inside, that each had their own baths. It was a nice suite, there was no question.
“Madam will find what she requires in the room to the right. Sirs will find supplies in the left,” the butler said firmly, backing out the door and closing it behind him.
“Well, this is interesting,” Sorilla said with a crooked grin, glancing around as she spotted all the listening devices currently transmitting.
There were at least nine in the main room, and she assumed that video was covered as well. Well, it was hardly the first time she’d been the star of someone’s private videos.
“Corporals,” Strickland gestured to the pair, “check and clear the rooms.”
The two nodded and split up, not quite bringing their weapons up as they entered the rooms to either side.
