Sisterhood of Suns: Daughters of Eve

by Martin Schiller

  “I am the forest,” she chanted quietly. “And the forest is me. I was born of it, and I am never away from it, no matter where I am, for I am the forest and the forest is me.” The Mantras, especially for someone like her, who was so far from home, always calmed and reassured her. They also ate up the time quite nicely.

  Her HUD interrupted, flashing a message. Operations was calling. Anticipating an assistance request from some raid Team, she answered it immediately. “Little Bird, go.”

  “Little Bird, you have a strike, coordinates and information being relayed to you now,” the operator said. The Valkyries AI immediately displayed the location. It was in the heart of one of the suburbs.

  It has to be air support for a raid, she thought.

  When she saw the target though, it confused her. It was a single ‘lectri speeding away from the location, and no team was pursuing it. The HUD dutifully informed her that it was to be a precision strike, and she frowned. Although the ordnance that her aerospace fighter carried was good, it wasn’t perfect. Anyone near the strike zone stood a fair-to-good chance of becoming casualties. She was also well aware of the Navy’s policy in the ETR to avoid civilian casualties wherever possible. The whole thing seemed to be a bit careless.

  “Little Bird, Ops,” she said, puzzled. “Can you confirm authorization for the strike?”

  “All details confirmed, authorization code Anna-Betsi-Xena-Carla,” Operations answered. This was the code used by the RSE, and it overrode anything else. “You are go for attack, weapons hot. Ordnance as specified.”

  “Acknowledged”, she replied, thinking a curse towards the lunatics in the RSE. The Loyalistas would have a field day with this, especially if any innocents got hurt.

  But orders were orders and Erin pitched her aerospace fighter hard over, and dove. “Beginning attack run.”

  Below her, and deep inside the COMINT center, Maya stole a glance at the city map. An icon, representing the air asset had appeared on it. A second later, a red circle surrounded the target, indicating that the fighter had a lock on it.

  Then the target disappeared from the map. On another screen, a live ‘vid showed a column of black smoke rising from a busy roadway.

  A Troop Leader came up to Sarah and saluted. “The aerospace strike was prosecuted as you ordered, ma’am.”

  Sarah watched the ‘vid for a moment more, and then turned away as if the woman, and the incident, simply didn’t exist any longer. The Troop Leader however, remained where she was.

  “Ma’am”, she said, “We also have two calls holding for you; from the Ambassador and the Vice Admiral.”

  Sarah regarded her again. “Tell them I’ll call them back.”

  The shess was already hitting the fan over the airstrike, Maya reflected. Not that any of it would spatter on Sarah. Things never worked out that perfectly.

  ***

  Reesy actually managed to remain anonymous for the remainder of the afternoon. By evening however, she had been identified. Sa’Tela interrupted Sarah with the news.

  “We have one of them!” the Kalian declared. “We know who she is.”

  “She?”

  “Her name is Reesy Hernan. The AI’s matched her image from the surveillance footage in the area. She was a resident of the School, and after she was relocated here, she served time in a woman’s prison for distributing Loyalista propaganda.”

  “Which explains how N’Kyla was identified,” Sarah observed. With the exception of Maya and a few others on her staff, N’Kyla had been the only one who had resembled the local genotypes closely enough not to require any cosmetics to ‘pass’. In street clothes, she would have been unremarkable. Except to someone who knew her.

  “I take it that we are in the process of apprehending this woman?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sa’Tela answered. “I sent a team out to get her. They should be there in the next few minutes.”

  ***

  A hand shook Reesy awake. It was her roommate, she realized, and when she opened her eyes, she saw another woman standing alongside her friend.

  “Get up”, the stranger ordered. “You’re leaving the capitol.” Reesy recognized her voice immediately. The last time that they had met, her visitor had worn a mask, and had given her the assignment to watch the Sisterhood base.

  “What’s going on?” Reesy asked.

  “It’s that officer you spotted,” the woman explained. “We took care of her. Now it’s all over the Republic. They’re looking for anyone that might be involved. We can’t risk you staying here.” She was already in the process of grabbing up Reesy’s meager possessions and stuffing them into a non-descript travel bag.

  Reesy felt a thrill of exultation pass through her as she rushed over to her dresser to help with the packing. They got her! she thought. And I helped! I GOT her!!

  As she grabbed up an armload of clothes, the woman held the bag open for her and let her dump them in. “We’ll be taking you to a safe house outside the capitol,” she said. “You’ll stay there until we can decide what to do with you.”

  Reesy didn’t argue, or ask for any clarifications. Instead, she took the bag from the woman’s hands and went into the common bathroom, clearing out the medicine cabinet with one swipe of her hand. Then she followed her outside to a ‘lectri.

  Barely five minutes after she had departed, the front door of her former apartment exploded. GSG-20’s, set to stun, flew in next. The intelligent munitions quickly located the residents, and detonated. Then Team 201 and their Specia allies, stormed in.

  It was all over in seconds. By the time Kaly had come down from her observation post, and joined them, everyone inside the residence had been trussed up and were lying on the floor. She didn’t have to refer to the image on her HUD to realize that their target wasn’t among them. None of the prisoners resembled Reesy Hernan, even slightly.

  “It looks like you got away, Kaly,” T’Jinna signed wryly.

  “That Kaly’s a tricky one, that’s for sure.” Cabo Vasquaaz added.

  The resemblance between Kaly and Reesy Hernan had been a running joke ever since the Op had first been assigned. If not for an accident of birth under different stars, she and Hernan could have been twins. They even braided their hair the same way.

  And naturally, none of Kaly’s team members, or the Specia soldiers, had been about to let such a stellar opportunity for teasing slip by.

  “Yah,” Kaly agreed good-naturedly. “Maybe you’ll get me next time.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Claire d’Layne Naval Base, Nuvo Bolivar, Magdala Provensa, Esteral Terrana Rapabla, 1048.10|02|02:08:61

  Kaly felt the sun on her skin. Not hot enough to burn, but just enough to revel in it in its warmth. In a playful counterpoint, a deliciously cool breeze blew in occasionally, bringing with it the clean scent of the ocean, as sweet as kisses. Overhead, the leaves of a tropical tree rustled with languid slowness, as if they too were under the spell of the suns magic.

  She didn’t want to leave her place on the sand, or the woman lying next to her. It was the perfect moment; the kind of contentment that could only exist in some heaven, far away from the pain and torment of the physical universe that she knew.

  Kaly looked up at her companion. She was greeted with a smile that was as beautiful as her surroundings, and she returned the love that she saw in the woman’s green eyes with a smile of her own.

  The woman leaned over and they kissed. It was a long delicious thing that elicited a sigh of pure happiness from Kaly when their lips finally parted.

  Then the woman rose, and offered her her hand. Kaly took it and they walked along the pure white sands together, saying nothing and letting the warm waves lap against their bare feet.

  After a time, the beautiful red head began to sing. Her melody had no words to it though. Rather, it was a collection of pure tones that made Kaly’s heart ache. Her song was just as perfect as the moment itself.

  “Is that for me?” she finally asked her.

&n
bsp; Her lovely partner shook her head. “No. It’s meant for someone else, Kaly. But it’s very important. You have to help the one who will sing it and also her friends.”

  Kaly started to ask her what she meant, but the dream began to fade, and then it was replaced by wakefulness. The beach and the mysterious woman were gone. Only the memory of the song remained.

  She opened her eyes with a wistful expression. It had been a beautiful vision, of a past that she should have had, and had never actually experienced, and all the more bittersweet for it. Reluctant to fully wake, she briefly considered returning to sleep, but then she made the mistake of accessing her psiever. It was 02.73, with barely nine metric minutes to go before her alarm was scheduled to go off. There was no point in even trying.

  Forcing herself to sit up, she reflected on her experience. She hadn’t had a vision of her fantasy lover in many weeks, or the beach that they always seemed to visit, and she wondered why it had suddenly revisited her.

  She finally decided that it had to be the product of all the stress that she’d been under. There was no other rational explanation. The song however, had been an entirely new feature, and it puzzled her. And for some reason that she couldn’t quite articulate, it also bothered her profoundly. Just as the phantom woman had indicated, she knew that it was important in some way, although exactly why was beyond her grasp. It just was.

  She nearly made an appointment to see a Psych doctor about it, and even went as far as accessing her Com--but hesitated. Back aboard the Athena, she’d discussed her dreams with Dr. bel Shaaron, and had always valued her wise council.

  This time though, the vision didn’t feel like it was intended to be shared with anyone else. Instead, it seemed as if it had been meant for her, and her alone, and that violating this confidence courted some terrible, and unknown consequence. It was a silly notion of course, but still so strong that she decided to ignore logic, and honor what her heart was telling her.

  She cut the connection, swung her feet over the edge of her rack, and stood, enduring the harsh reality of the cold metal floor on her bare feet. It was time to begin her day and put all of her dreams aside.

  Barely an hour later, she received another message. This time it wasn’t an imaginary vision from her subconscious. It was psivermail from Bel Anny, one of her fellow recruit-trainees back in Basic. Kaly hadn’t heard from her, or any of the other hatchies, since graduation day, and she read it straightaway.

  “Dear Kaly—,’

  “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m still at Rixa in Admin, and I even managed to get myself promoted a few times (heh heh…crazy huh?). I’m writing you because I wanted to apologize for not getting with you until now, and catching up.’

  “I also have some bad news to tell you. It’s about Enggredsdaater. Her unit was posted to Nuvo Bolivar right after the war, and she got wounded. They told me that it was from an improvised device of some kind. I hate to tell you this, but it took off both of her legs.’

  “The paints gave her new ones—good ones—good enough for her to still keep serving if she’d wanted to—but she never fully recovered. From what I heard, it was the stress from the injury and everything else that she’s been through. So, she mustered out, and went back home.’

  “If you get the chance, drop by and see her, okay? I’m worried about her and she could use a visit from an old friend like you. And hey—maybe come and see me too when you get the chance? I’ve missed you. ‘

  “All my love—and I’m sorry, Bel Anny.”

  Chest tight with suppressed pain, Kaly closed the message, and took a moment to collect herself. Of all the hatchies in Carli Company, Enggredsdaater had been the very last one that she would have ever expected to end up like this.

  Goddess, she thought, poor Berta.

  Jyon Vaargas National Spaceport, Nuvo Bolivar, Magdala Provensa, Esteral Terrana Rapabla, 1048.10|02|03:43:05

  After spending months on other projects, Celina had finally completed enough of them to pursue her real interest. This was her work on the Song of Humanity, which she still refused to nickname The Song. To her, that title would always be reserved for her original melody.

  She was still stinging from the disastrous visit by the Seevaans to her studio, and the State Department’s edict against the original composition, but she had complied with their prohibition, and created alternate themes. The new pieces weren’t anywhere near as good as The Song had been, but they were acceptable.

  And secretly, she still had a copy of the forbidden music. Just in case the State Department, or the Seevaans, ever recovered their sanity and reversed their incomprehensible decision.

  But even with all these changes and reversals, the realie that she was producing easily outshone all of her previous works, and she was eager to see it finished. Which was why she had decided to travel to the ETR.

  She intended to use images of life in the Republic to show her female audience just how far Womankind had advanced as a society, and to provide a glimpse of life as it had been before the MARS Plague, and the advent of Motherthought.

  The journey had also offered another plus. It was her chance to finally portray the Sisterhood’s peacekeeping forces at work, and give these noble women the recognition that they deserved.

  The trick, however, had been getting to the ETR. Despite the fact that the war between the Republic and the Sisterhood was well over, Nuvo Bolivar was difficult for civilians to travel to. The Sisterhood national spaceline, Intragalactic, didn’t have any passenger flights to Jyon Vaargas, and neither did any of the smaller domestic carriers. Only the foreign lines, Requiem Spaceways, run by the Xee, and Imperial Hriss, had offered anything, and neither had been what Celina would have considered ‘ideal’.

  A ticket on Requiem had been expensive to the point of usury, and also required a lengthy stopover in Ashkele before traveling on to the Republic’s capitol. Notwithstanding this, it had still been a far better choice than the Hriss alternative.

  Although much cheaper, the Hriss didn’t believe in luxury of any kind and their civilian vessels were essentially no different than their troop transports. Their food was just as unmentionable.

  So in the end, comfort had won over cost, and Celina had chosen Requiem.

  Her flight arrived at Jyon Vaargas Interworld Spaceport late in the afternoon, and when she disembarked, she was met by a representative from the Embassy. Although she had been forced to listen to pirated copies of her own music throughout the entire trip, Celina did her best to smile at the comerci-clad woman.

  “Jantildam, I am Jaana t’Saryanna, Assistant Secretary to the Ambassador,” the woman said, bowing deeply. “You cannot imagine how excited we are to have you visit us out here on the frontier. Our troops are ecstatic at the prospect of a concert, and the Ambassador is delighted at having the chance to meet you!”

  Part of the agreement that her agent had made with the State Department for being allowed to travel to the ETR, had been the promise to perform a free concert for the Naval and Marine forces stationed in the capitol. Not that Celina had any reservations; the women who defended her nation were worthy of the very best that she had to offer. Even so, it had been a long, and expensive trip, and she was hard put to lend any real warmth to her reply.

  “I’ve been looking forwards to entertaining them,” she said. “Of course, I’m also eager to gather some footage for my latest project. I do hope that your Embassy will be able to accommodate me while I’m here.”

  In fact, the State Department had already agreed to cater to her needs, but it never hurt to remind the people who were actually responsible for seeing things done, of their obligations, however politely.

  “Naturally,” T’Saryanna replied. “In anticipation of your arrival, we took the liberty of arranging your itinerary for you. We want to make certain that you can show the women back home everything that we are accomplishing here.’

  “Now, if you’ll fo
llow me, we’ll get you to your Hotel. It’s the Àuro Agwuila, the Golden Eagle. It’s not the Euxine Plaza, but it’s the best that these people have to offer, and I’m sure you’ll find it adequate, albeit a bit--um--rustic.” She gave Celina a shrug that wordlessly expressed the rest of what she had purposefully neglected to say; ‘--being the primitives that they are.’

  “I don’t mind rustic,” Celina said. “It often lends atmosphere to the creative process.” She hadn’t been in the ETR an hour, and she already found the woman’s patronizing attitude towards the natives both irritating and distasteful.

  She had seen all the newscasts, since the first contact, through the war, and into the present, and she had gradually become a part of a growing, but silent segment of her countrywomen that didn’t perceive the citizens of the ETR as inferiors. Although she strongly supported her nation’s peacekeeping efforts, she hadn’t let herself lose sight of the fact that the citizens of the Republic were still people. Even the males.

  She kept this to herself however, and let the woman lead her past Customs to their waiting ‘lectri. To get what she wanted, she couldn’t give offense. Finishing the Song of Humanity was too important.

  The drive to her hotel was the first indication that the ETR was not as ‘rustic’ as her guide claimed, nor as calm as the news media portrayed it. Her limousine had been sandwiched in between two plain ‘lectris containing more Embassy staff, and security women, and the caravan was being escorted by a pair of local police vehicles. All of this was normal enough; she was a famous performer and a heavy security presence was part of the price that she paid for her fame.