The Sword of Sophia

by John Bowers

  He got up wearily and padded naked into the bathroom, relieving his bladder. It was another hour until his alarm would go off, but tired as he was, he didn’t feel sleepy. He slipped into his pants and went into the sitting room, where he could look out across the city. Most of the tall buildings were dark except for their night lights; in the distance, through a hole in the clouds, he saw one of the moons in quarter phase. It was an artist’s dream, he thought, the colors from the moon radiating against the clouds that framed it.

  But he was in no mood to appreciate the beauty. Nine Confederate soldiers were dead. No civilians had been hurt, in spite of the story they had fed the public, but next time that might change. Whoever had set off those plasma weapons was a threat to soldier and civilian alike. The trouble was, he had no idea who the bastard was, and there had been no more attacks in the five days since.

  Maybe it was a one-time thing…

  …but he doubted it.

  He was about to light a cigarette when he sensed motion behind him. Tascha leaned over him, her long, straw-colored hair dangling over his shoulder and bare chest. She kissed him on the head and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You can’t sleep?” she murmured drowsily.

  He shook his head. “Too keyed up.”

  “You are thinking about the terrorist?”

  “Yeah. Among other things.”

  “You are still sad about Erika?”

  He took a deep breath, considered his answer, then nodded.

  “Yeah. That too.”

  “She is a foolish woman,” Tascha said. “She would be lucky to marry a man like you.”

  “She doesn’t see it that way. I think I’m the foolish one, for thinking that anything I have to offer can overcome what she’s been through.”

  “You really do love her?”

  “I really do.”

  “And you still love me?”

  “I’ve always loved you, Tascha. I always will.”

  Tascha stepped around the end of the couch and sat down beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

  “I think,” she said slowly, “that if you want to marry this woman, you will have to change some things.”

  “I know. She told me to lose the uniform.”

  “I think it would be more than that.”

  “Like what?”

  “She would not want a husband who owns a slave girl.”

  Brandon stared at her in surprise. In all his fretting over Erika’s rebuff he hadn’t once thought about Tascha. Erika would be totally opposed to slavery in any form, including Tascha—especially Tascha.

  “I would have to get rid of you?” he said, weighing the thought in his mind.

  “Are you willing to do that?” She lifted her face to look at him.

  He gazed into her crystal-blue eyes a moment, then shook his head slowly.

  “No,” he said. “We’ve been together too long. Where would you go? How would you survive?”

  Tascha smiled as tears formed in her eyes. She snuggled her lips against his neck.

  “Thank you, Brandon. I am terrified of losing you.”

  “You won’t lose me. You and I will always be together, no matter what.”

  * * *

  Erik kept his head down the next few days. The plasma attacks had stirred a hornet’s nest of Sirian military activity. As Karl had said, the military was much more visible now than it had been before, and everyone on the street was being thoroughly searched. Erik didn’t dare make a move until that activity died down.

  It was probably just as well; he only had three mines left, and he should use them to the best advantage. He would dearly love to take out a Confederate barracks somewhere, or some other equally crowded target, but he had to be careful. From what his parents said, Sophia worshippers were somehow clinging to this notion of a mystical Sword of Sophia as if it were the second birth of the goddess herself. He hadn’t anticipated that, but it made a sort of sense, he supposed. People felt oppressed by the occupation, and would cheer anything that offered them a ray of hope, no matter how slender.

  So it was important not to get caught.

  That necessity trumped everything else, at least for the time being. Smaller targets would do just fine. Kill one or two men, or even none at all, but make the Sirians sweat. Let them wonder when the next attack was coming, and where. The occupation troops had it pretty good in Reina—they could molest almost anyone they chose with no fear of retribution. Now, let them fear. If he accomplished nothing else, that alone would be worth the effort.

  After work he stopped in at the River Pub and shared a drink with Sallje. When she saw him enter, she smiled and worked herself loose from two Confederate infantrymen to go welcome him. She kissed him heatedly right in front of the whole place, which hadn’t filled up yet, and led him to a table. Erik ordered two beers, but before they arrived the two soldiers appeared at his table, looking irritated.

  “Hey, what the fuck, Sallje!” one of them said. “Yew was drinkin’ with us, now yew dump us for this guy?”

  Sallje smiled sweetly. “Sorry, fellows! My job is to keep all the customers happy.”

  “But he’s a goddamn Veggie!” the second soldier complained. “This is a soldier’s bar!”

  Erik looked up and challenged him with his eyes. “Fifth Royal Infantry, Vegan Guard.”

  The Sirian’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck yew!”

  “Knock it off!” Sallje said suddenly. “This is Erik. He’s a friend of Sergeant Kilburn. If you have any complaints, go see him!”

  They stared at her a moment, but she had said the magic words. They walked away grumbling. Sallje smiled at Erik.

  “Where’ve you been the last few days? I was starting to think something happened to you.”

  “The usual,” he said casually. “Busy.” He glanced around. The music hadn’t started yet, but more soldiers were coming in. “Are you the only girl on duty?”

  “Right now I am. Bridget will come on at ten. Four girls quit last week and Albert hasn’t been able to replace them yet.”

  “How come?”

  “They’re scared. People are saying this terrorist might decide to blow the place up. When he sets off a bomb, he doesn’t care who gets in the way.”

  The holonews had suggested, without really saying so, that civilians had been killed. Erik was certain that none had been, because he’d timed the attacks carefully, but if Vegans feared getting hurt, it might make his job easier—they would avoid potential targets, giving him a wider range of options.

  “What about you?” he said instead. “You aren’t afraid?”

  She made an ironic face. “I need the job. And the exemption. I’ll just have to risk it.”

  The beer came and he took a deep swallow. More soldiers came in and someone started the music. Suddenly it was too loud to think, let alone talk. Erik leaned into Sallje’s ear.

  “Are you working Friday night?”

  She nodded. “From five to midnight.”

  “Anybody else working?”

  “Just Bridget, but she won’t come on until eight.”

  “Just the two of you then.”

  She nodded, frowning. “Why? Are you planning on being here?”

  He took another swallow of beer, thinking quickly.

  “I know a girl who might be interested in the job,” he said. “I’ll bring her by Friday around six. I just want to make sure there will still be an opening.”

  “Oh, there will be. Friday night is perfect—she can start right away. Friday night is when things really heat up.”

  * * *

  Erika Sebring came out of the staff meeting with her cheeks on fire. Edgar Steinbach could be so goddess-scorn maddening! Every day there was something—every day she was tempted to grab his scrawny neck and throttle him. It was bad enough that he was too terrified of the SE to make a decision, but even if there had been no SE, he had no imagination. No common sense. No feeling for the holonews business.


  Clenching her fists to keep from screaming, she stalked past Viktor’s desk and sat down at her own, slamming down her data pad and closing her eyes for a moment. The message light was blinking on her desk comm and she punched the button, more for the distraction than to retrieve her message.

  “Miss Sebring, you have a visitor in the lobby; she’s been waiting for a half hour.”

  Erika’s blood pressure dropped dramatically as curiosity overcame her rage. A visitor? Who could it be? Surely not Brandon—he would insist on seeing her at once. Who else did she know who might come here?

  Or was it something else entirely? A confidential informant, perhaps? Someone with knowledge of the terrorist attacks?

  She was dreaming, and knew it, but the idea was intriguing. She quickly left her desk and headed for the lobby. The girl at the desk, whose name was Giselle, smiled at her.

  “Miss Sebring…your visitor.”

  The young woman waiting in a chair by the door was a total stranger. She stood up with a tentative smile and took a step forward.

  “Are you Erika Sebring?”

  It sounded like a dumb question…or maybe the girl never watched the news. She was a petite girl, young, not more than twenty-two, if that. Slender, almost willowy, but with a huge pair of breasts; long hair, blond and straight, and a rounded face. Her skin was white but her features suggested a mixture of races—high cheekbones, almond eyes, full, lush lips; a single lightning bolt was tattooed on her bare shoulder. She looked perfectly natural in her too-tight dress, not the least bit self-conscious. She was gorgeous.

  But she wasn’t Vegan. Even her accent was strange, neither Vegan nor Sirian. Something else entirely.

  “Yes,” Erika said. “Can I help you?”

  The young blonde smiled, a friendly sparkle in her blue eyes. “I think maybe I can help you,” she said. “Can we talk in private?”

  For some reason she didn’t understand, Erika’s heart began to race. She had no idea who this girl was, what she wanted, or if she might be dangerous. Yet she felt compelled to hear what she had to say.

  “Sure. Come on.”

  She led the visitor into a small conference room and closed the door.

  “Okay. What is it that you want?”

  The young blonde smiled again, her eyes roaming Erika’s face and body.

  “You are very beautiful,” she said.

  “I know that. I’m a Vegan. What is this about?”

  “Major Marlow wants to marry you. You are a fool if you turn him down.”

  Erika felt her face turn pale. Her heart thumped harder.

  “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

  Tascha smiled, the picture of innocence. Her teeth were white and even, obviously the result of expensive dentistry.

  “I am Tascha. I am—”

  “Brandon’s slave girl.” Erika’s skin tingled. “Goddess Sophia! Did he send you here to convince me?”

  “No, and please do not tell him I came to see you.” She placed a hand on Erika’s arm. “He would not be pleased.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “Because I love him very much, and I want him to be happy. He is very unhappy without you.”

  Erika stared at her as if she were crazy. On impulse, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Tascha sat facing her, elbows on her knees.

  “You say you love him?” Erika asked in wonder. “And yet you’re a slave?”

  “Yes. I have been with Brandon for about ten years. Before he found me I was living in a serf camp—do you know what that is?”

  “I have an idea. I spent some time on Sirius.”

  “Then you understand. My mother was a slave, my grandmother was a slave—all my ancestors were slaves since coming to Sirius, I don’t know how many generations…I grew up as a serf slave on a poor plantation. It was a very unhappy life, especially for me, because I was pretty. The owner treated all of us badly, but when I was old enough for him to notice, he was very cruel to me in particular. Then Brandon found me, and took me away from all that. He was very kind to me, and gave me a reason to enjoy life. How can I not love him for that?”

  “You’re a slave!”

  “You do not understand. There are many kinds of slaves—slaves who are treated badly, and slaves who are treated well. I am treated well. Brandon loves me. He makes me happy. I will do anything for him, and he will do anything for me.”

  “Then he doesn’t need a wife!” Erika told her bluntly.

  Tascha’s eyes filled with pain.

  “But he loves you! He will never be happy without you.”

  “He doesn’t need me—he has you.”

  “It is not the same. A wife is one thing, a slave is another thing. Do you see?”

  “No. I don’t see.” Erika stood, forcing an end to the meeting. “Look, I know you mean well, but this isn’t going to work.”

  Tascha also stood, two inches shorter than Erika, and gazed earnestly into her eyes.

  “You do love him, I think. Don’t you?”

  Erika started to shake her head, but had never been a very good liar. Finally she nodded.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”

  “Then what else is there? You love him. He loves you.”

  Erika sighed. “And if I married him, I suppose you would come along on the honeymoon?”

  Tascha almost giggled, but quickly suppressed it.

  “No,” she said, smiling slightly. “A wife has her place. I am a slave; I would not intrude on that.”

  Erika stared at her a moment, strangely touched by the girl’s innocence.

  “Are you really happy as a slave? I mean, wouldn’t you rather be free?”

  Tascha shook her head emphatically, her hair swinging to and fro.

  “Oh, no. I do not know any other life. The Marlow plantation is my home. I would not be happy anywhere else.”

  Erika’s eyes widened slightly. “What about the kittens? Don’t you have to share Brandon with them?”

  Tascha laughed and shook her head. “I am the first of the kittens. The others came after me. We are like sisters. But when Brandon came to Vega he brought me, not them.” She touched Erika’s arm again. “We all know that someday Brandon will marry. We understand it. We accept it. Each of us has her place, and if you marry Brandon, you will be first in his heart.”

  Erika closed her eyes, felt like moaning. This was all so fucking bizarre! How had she let her heart get away from her with a man like Brandon Marlow?

  “I have to get back to work, Tascha. Thank you for coming.”

  Tascha smiled happily, as if her mission had been accomplished.

  “You will think about the things I have said?”

  “Yes. I will think about them.”

  “And you will not tell Brandon I was here?”

  Erika frowned. “What will he do if he finds out? Will he beat you?”

  “No! Oh, no! He will just be very disappointed with me. That’s all.”

  Erika nodded. “Okay, I won’t tell him unless he asks. I won’t promise any more than that.”

  Tascha smiled again, leaned forward, and kissed Erika on the cheek.

  “You are a very special woman. You will make Brandon a good wife.” She beamed. “You’ll see.”

  Friday, 28 March 0200 (PCC) – Reina, Vega 3

  Erik walked into the River Pub a few minutes before six in the evening. The joint was jumping as off-duty soldiers drank and danced and sang bawdy songs. It was still early in the evening, and already the place was rowdy. In three or four hours it would be totally decadent.

  Sallje was the only female employee on the premises, but several soldiers had brought girls with them. Erik counted five or six, and more were sure to arrive. Vegan girls. Unlike Sallje, they weren’t here because they needed a job, or to get an exemption. They were here by choice, willing companions of enemy soldiers. He didn’t know their motives, but he doubted many of them were Sophia worshippers—no decent girl would walk into a flesh pit
like this with a Confederate soldier without a gun to her head. Erik had agonized over this for a couple of days, but he knew no other way to do it. Maybe it was necessary to sacrifice a few for the greater good…like in combat.

  But he felt queasy about it.

  The moment he arrived, he slipped into the men’s room to use the urinal. After checking that he was alone, he removed a plasma mine from his pocket and slipped it under the tile counter; he had applied adhesive to all the mines and it stuck easily to the bottom of the counter between the sinks. He washed his hands and went into the pub itself, spotted Sallje, and ordered drinks.

  “Where’s your friend?” Sallje asked, looking a little disappointed. “We could sure use her tonight.”

  “She’s running late. She should be here by seven.”

  Erik skirted the crowd and found a table. He sat drinking slowly and watching the soldiers while Sallje circulated among them; tonight was too busy for her to spend all her time with him.

  Which suited him just fine. It was a simple matter to attach a second mine to the bottom of his table. As big as the room was, one would be enough. When the plasma flashed inside this closed space, it would turn every living thing to ash in under a second. With the mine in place, he tried to relax and just drink his beer. The beer was easy, but his heart felt like a machinegun in his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply and concentrate on something else. Like tomorrow’s trip.

  Birgitt had called Erika Sebring and invited her to travel with them to Princess Carlena County. Erika had jumped at the chance, and insisted on bringing a camera man with her. They would depart tomorrow morning early, in two hovercars. The trip down would take most of the day; they would spend the night somewhere before returning to Reina on Sunday. Erik looked forward to the trip, if only for the change of scenery. And he wanted to see how that girl in the bunker was doing, the one who called herself Corporal. It had been nearly three months since he’d seen her—he hoped she was still safe.

  Erik waited until seven-thirty. Sallje had told him Bridget would come on shift at eight, and he wanted to be done before she arrived. He approached Sallje, who was carrying drinks, and pulled her aside.