by Mark Wandrey
"What about the drone. Does it contain any more information on my father’s whereabouts?"
"We can't divulge that info at this point, I'm sorry."
"Okay, one more question?"
"Why not."
"Are there any repercussions with the Rasa for my encounter?"
Dram half grinned. "Spoken like a leader," the man to Dram's left said.
"There have been no official inquiries," Dram said. "You were very thorough. Burning the bodies was an excellent touch."
"I considered bringing them back."
"Why didn't you?"
"Well, I thought about the Tog..."
"Go ahead."
"They are a very honest species. I was afraid should they find out the details of the Rasa teams destruction...lets just say plausible deniability seemed the most prudent choice."
"The council agrees," another Chosen said.
Minu just bowed her head, she was thinking of what Cherise told her after they got back. "You make quick, decisive decisions that are more often than not dead on." Her idea to strip and burn the bodies had just come to her. She didn't think it over or read about the tactic in the manual.
Dram continued. "I think we're just about wrapped up here. Only a couple more issues."
"I'm ready."
"Okay, first off you're being assigned your own command."
"Five-stars are not eligible for command."
"That is true," the Chosen to Dram's left spoke for the first time. He removed something from his pocket and slid it across the polished table to where she could see. Minu caught to box and opened it. Inside were two sets of four gold stars, one for each sleeve.
"I'm honored," she said and replaced her five-star links with the new ones immediately. They waited patiently while they snapped in place, she put the old five-stars in the same box and slid it back. While she made sure the stars were in place and tried to get used to the square configuration she thought, wasn't this promotion premature? "What is my command to be?"
"We are assigning you to a science team." Minu looked at the last Chosen to speak, a man easily a match of Jovich's age with wild white hair and an uncalled for smile. Two silver stars of science gleamed on his sleeves.
"I've felt scout worked better for me."
"There are those that agree with you," the one who'd handed out the stars continued as he picked up the box she'd slid back and returned it to the same pocket, Minu was trying to place a name to him, "level four commands are hard to come by, and you've proven you can work with science types like Pipson."
"Considering the staff you will have, I think you'll appreciate this," the older Chosen said cryptically. Minu just nodded in ascending to their will.
Dram spoke again, "The last issue will be a little harder for you." He paused for a second before proceeding. "Jacob has been named First Among the Chosen by the Tog."
Minu sat just staring at him for a while before it all came home. "My father has been declared dead?" He nodded. "But I'd hoped the information I found would lead to his discovery."
"I'm afraid it has only helped to confirm his fate."
"Can his body be recovered?" No one answered her. "Damn it, that's my father!" she yelled.
"Control yourself, Chosen," the one who'd promoted her said soothingly. Alexander, Minu finally remembered. He was very fair skinned with hawk-like features that reminded her annoyingly of the Malovichs’, though his gray hair broke from the pattern. The two blue stars on his cuffs told that he was the ranking Chosen in training, just as the two black stars on Dram meant he was the ranking scout. She happened to glance at Dram's sleeves in that moment. There were two stars, now gold, same as Jacob used to wear. Promotions moved quickly when a Chosen died. Such was the way of small organizations.
"I'm sorry, sir, I was just upset."
"It is understandable," Dram said. "You have to realize it's been a year. The drone's data was many months old and your father has been gone a very long time. The Tog have never waited this long to promote a new First. Of course a First has never failed to return from a mission."
"As the Chosen grow in size there may come a day that the First Among the Chosen doesn't go on missions like that any more," Alexander said with a casual gesture. Dram gave Alexander a little sideways glance and Minu knew he didn't agree with that in the least. "The formal promotion ceremony is next Monday,” he continued, “services for your father are Tuesday in Tranquility, as is the tradition."
"I understand. Do I have permission to be excused from duty to attend the service?"
"Of course,” Dram said with a nod of his head. “You haven't been to one of these so you might not have known that all the Chosen who possibly can attend will be there."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're dismissed," Dram said. Minu rose and left without another word. Once she was gone the three men all heaved a sigh and looked at each other. Dram stood up to leave when Alexander spoke.
"I don't understand the promotion," he said slowly. Dram turned to face him.
"It wasn't our call to make."
"Is it my understanding this is not the first time the Tog interfered directly on her behalf?" Alexander asked.
"That is correct."
"A promotion at this point is highly questionable. Her marks in training were exceptional, perhaps the best I've ever seen, but still..."
"You've made your point already in council," Bjorn said, brushing a wisp of white hair from his eyes and carelessly fiddling with the two silver stars on his left sleeve.
"Everyone got a chance to speak," Dram agreed.
"The Tog refused to listen," Alexander said, his voice betraying the same sort of emotion Minu displayed moments before and which he'd found exception to. "How are we to train and maintain a core of experienced, motivated and select Chosen if they step in at every key moment to override our decisions?"
"We serve at their discretion," Dram reminded them. "You've all read about the early days, right after the Tog returned. When they were in charge directly they oversaw every decision, no matter how small."
"That was over a hundred years ago," Alexander pointed out, "yet they still treat us like children at a moment like this. And waiting more than a year to pick a new First? Outrageous. Chriso has been dead all this time, and we know it."
“That is not a concrete fact,” Bjorn said with a sigh
"Enough of one for the Tog," Dram said. “Look, Alexander, we know you and Jacob are not on Minu's side,” Alexander looked down and shrugged, “but she is obviously a darling of the Tog, and we have to follow their lead. Chriso was the fifth leader of the Chosen, and by all categories you can judge a First by, he was the best so far. After some of the close calls he's had over the years and miracles he's pulled off, you can understand why many found it hard to believe that he was really gone. Even the Tog. Maybe they see some of that in Minu and hope for a replay..."
"I just don't agree."
"It's not our place to agree," Dram said darkly, "it's our place to serve. Now, if we're all done squabbling like school children, we have a meeting with the newly appointed First."
“As you say,” Alexander nodded, “Second among the Chosen.”
Chapter 8
September 26th, 515 AE
Sports Complex, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
"Chriso Alma was the fifth man to be appointed First Among the Chosen, and in any way you can measure, he was the best so far." Jacob spoke at a podium set at one end of the main sports stadium of the Tranquility sports complex. On the field before him were arrayed nearly one thousand Chosen by rank and section, highest ranking up front, lowest in the back. The stands were crowded with as many people as it would hold, and like the Chosen, they were arrayed with the rich and powerful in front and less so to the rear. Diplomats, bureaucrats, soldiers, business leaders, athletes, and just plain lucky enough to be early in line all stood as he spoke. "First Among the Chosen Chriso Alma served for thirty nine years, four months, eleven da
ys to this day, which will go down as the last of his service. Twenty-seven of those years he was First, the longest to hold the position. I can only hope to do half as well as him."
Music swelled across the stadium. It was a version of the old America the Beautiful song from Earth, the unofficial anthem of the Chosen. Minu watched from the fourth rank back, three quarters of the way, along with the smallest section of Chosen. She'd been offered to sit on the stand next to the new First and instead elected to be with the other gold stared Command Chosen, four new golden stars on her collar.
The memorial went on for two more hours; one person after another who was important enough to warrant delivering a eulogy came forward to offer their take on her father’s career as First. The most interesting was the last. Even from almost a hundred meters away it was impossible not to recognize the bald head, slight limp, and broad shoulders of her father’s mentor and best friend, Jovich.
"A great many wonderful things have been said about the First Among the Chosen, Chriso Alma, here today. I can't add anything to that. I really never knew the First. I knew a young five-star named Chriso who got through the Trials by the skin of his teeth. A boy who was disappointed when he was assigned to command instead of the more exciting scouts. A boy who logged mission after mission into the frontier bringing back things that helped us begin to make progress toward repaying our debt to the Tog.
"It was just after he'd earned his third star that he lost almost his entire team on a mission deep in the frontier. They were ambushed by Mok-Tok and harassed for days before he brought the remnants of that team home. He came into my office and tried to quit. Well, more like he did quit. I took me all night, and my best bottle of mead to convince him of the errors of his ways. Ironically it was while trying to carry him back to his billet that a young lady named Sharon lent a hand. A civilian contractor working for the Chosen, she eventually became his wife.
"A few years later he lost a star down to two, and it became apparent to all that he'd loose one of them very quickly. The day I traded my one star for his two was the proudest in my life. Like most past Firsts, I've stayed around making myself useful, and occasionally a nuisance. I wore that little golden star for only eleven years, and it was the heaviest damned thing I've ever been forced to wear. All that many people see is the prestige, the respect, the power that a First wields. When you wear that golden star all you can see is the burden you must bear. As you can all see, I really never knew the First, but I knew the man that would become him. And knowing him enriched my life in ways I will never fully appreciate, because he is now gone."
Jovich slumped a little and made a huge effort to choke down the sob that came to his voice. “Chriso was the most unstoppable, dedicated, passionate leader the Chosen could ever ask for. And he was my friend.”
Jovich walked down from the stage and the memorial was over with. Minu watched the man loose himself in the crowd as it broke up and began to leave. She'd known Jovich all her life, in fact some of her earliest memories were of playing in his lap. He’d brought her a well worn tablet showing colorful designs she could manipulate with her chubby little fingers. All those years and experiences, and she'd never known he was once a First Among the Chosen. A secret he chose not to share with her, but why? He only wore three stars on his collar now. "I guess I always thought he'd just never had any ambition," she said quietly as the crowd milled toward the exits. "I guess I could ask myself why I never knew the names of all the previous Firsts." She knew why, of course. There was no storied monuments for them, just a single line on a granite wall along with all the others who’d served. You’d have to search the thousands of names to pick out those with only one star to even now who’d been First. Many would soon forget the name Chriso as Jacob took over the job.
Her friends found her near the stadium’s main exit, people mingling and chatting about the changes taking place in the Chosen. They all said what everyone expected to be said in those sorts of situations. How they were sorry for her loss, and asking if she needed anything. Of them all, only Pip was different.
"Don't give up hope," he said and looked her in the eye. His brown eyes held an intensity that momentarily set her back.
"Over a year, Pip," she said, "what do I have left?"
"Hope," he said again. "You ever wonder how a little wimp like me could make it through the Trials?"
"Determination," she said.
Pip shrugged. "Some, sure, it probably carried me through to the end. But it's not enough by itself. No, I've studied the Chosen in very minute detail, at least as much as a civilian can. I spoke to quite a few retired Chosen and I armed myself mentally to prepare for the Trials. In between I worked out and trained my body as much as I could. It turned out to be just enough."
Behind him Gregg looked at Aaron and mouthed silently, “He trained?” Aaron chuckled a little but Minu ignored them. She remembered him struggling with the physical parts of the trial and decided that made sense. How did it relate to his belief that Chriso Alma was still alive? She asked him.
"Because my studies told me a lot about your father. As the most recent First, he oversaw a lot of modernization on Bellatrix. Did you know that the first automated factory went on line during his tenure? Or the beginning of our switchover from domestic power to the Concordia grid? Modern computers in schools? Licensing of aerocars? Civilian contracts with Concordia species other than the Tog and Beazer? The list is nearly endless."
"I always knew dad was big into using Concordia technology."
"He was more than big into it; it was a drive of his, an obsession some would say. Most Chosen leaders push projects and try to help the common citizen, but he was driven."
"I appreciate the insight, but how does this matter about him surviving that last mission?"
"That expansion in our planetary technology was more than just driven by Chriso, it was also facilitated. We don't make a lot of money on this world. Oh sure, our economy is strong and there is no real poverty. Step off this planet and we're as poor as we can be. We don't make anything to speak of, so we can't make real Concordia money, credits. Chriso made all this happen by salvage, by his own hand. He found most of what we enjoy, or traded or sold what he found to buy what we needed."
"I thought what we found belonged to the Tog by right."
"Popular misconception," Pip said with a wink, "only what we find when sent out by them. Other than that, if it isn't nailed down, we can keep it. A client has to have a way to make a living. In the Concordia, it is actually encouraged. Makes the kids more independent, and sometimes they find something really good. From an early age in the Chosen he must have had an epiphany, because he spent most of his adult like scrounging around the galaxy and hauling back a fortune! Anyway, his mission logs are fascinating reading, even edited as they are for the general public. You have to possess more security clearance than I have to get the full details. And he didn’t let anything stop him, ever. I must have read a hundred accounts of him coming across alien species who wanted nothing more than to kill him, or worse." He didn't have to elaborate on worse. William was only a few days gone. "If you consider that he has disappeared without a trace? I don't believe it."
"Thanks Pip, I'll remember what you said. I just don't know if I can hold out hope forever."
"I understand." Pip turned to leave then stopped when he remembered something. "You recall at the mission end when you asked if anything like that ever happened before?" Minu didn't want to admit she remembered, but she nodded that she did. "Our people have been used as food twice before, this was the third time. The first time was back during the original Chosen group, a hundred years ago. The story is the aliens didn't know humans were sentient. The last was twenty seven years ago."
"Under Jovich," Minu said. A short distance away Jovich stood and spoke with the new First, Jacob. Jovich was speaking and seemed very animated about something. Whatever it was Jacob didn't like it because he was scowling and shaking his head. Dram and another two sta
r Chosen were standing nearby, just listening and observing.
"Friend of mine in science says that not everyone is thrilled with Jacob ascending to First." Minu looked at Pip who shrugged.
"I hate being so new no one will talk to you,” Minu grumbled discontentedly. “Or at least no one who knows what's going on.”
"That's the way it goes. You know I'm in your command, right?"
"I figured, but haven't seen the posting yet."
"They gave you an entire team."
"How many is that?"
"Including civilians, probably five or six."
"Is that unusual?"
"Very. From what I've seen science only has a handful of command staff. Usually a couple three stars running a project or two and a half dozen four stars as their assistants.
"Well, this is over with so I'm going to go get my stuff and see you in the science center." Pip nodded and headed for the exit with the rest of the crowd. Minu looked at the podium one last time before joining the throng. As she moved along with the thousands of Chosen she heard a chillingly familiar voice whisper in her ear.
"Hello, daughter of the dead First."
"Fuck off, Ivan," Minu said without looking.
"Careful, I might be First someday myself, and I wouldn't take your insubordination very well."
She rounded on him, her anger flooding up like an eruption of red hot lava. "Little chance of that happening, five-star." she snarled. Ivan opened his mouth to say something then unconsciously look at her sleeve where four gold stars now sat. Minu smiled as the veins stood out on his neck and his eyes got big.
"How dare they promote a woman over me?!" he growled.
"Insubordinate behavior? Not very becoming of a prospective commander. I'll have to report this. Oh, and I've also already gotten my first command too! Farewell, son of an idiot." Without another word she turned and walked off, leaving him spluttering wordlessly. At least one good thing happened that day. Behind her, departing Chosen moved around Ivan where he stood frozen in place, seething with impotent rage.
