by Mark Wandrey
"Fourth, and this is an add onto the first, the soldier branch needs their own facilities. These new bases, or forts if you will, should be established outside and around every operating portal on Bellatrix. That our portals are either sparsely defended, or not at all, represents a vital weakness in our defenses. In constructing defensive and training facilities around the portals we gain an ease of deployment should the soldiers be required off world. At least one deactivated portal should be brought on line, that portal to be the prime soldier’s base. I would suggest that be the old Peninsula Tribe Portal due to its remote location and proximity to available resources.”
The room remained in stunned silence for a long moment as Minu placed her tablet on the table and waited. Jacob forced a chuckle and finally spoke. "Well, you don't have much to add, do you?" No one else was laughing. Minu was watching the council carefully during her speech. She could see their responses to her recommendations ranging from surprise to shock, depending on the subject. Jacob was the only one to express a hostile reaction.
"One more thing?" He gave a 'sure why not?' gesture. "I request to be transferred to this new soldier branch as soon as it is operable."
"Well, as the First Among the Chosen, I guess I'll start by saying no."
"To what part?"
"All of it."
"Fine with me," Minu said and rose.
"You were not dismissed."
"I wasn't looking to be dismissed. If you are going to completely ignore me, then I am resigning my commission in the Chosen."
"What? Are you going to be childish now because your elders refuse your flights of fancy?"
"Flights of fancy? Creating five groups of partially trained combat troops and selling off our most valuable defensive tool is a flight of fancy. No, that's not right, it's fucking idiotic.”
“Now see here,” one of the council members barked.
“No, you see here. I am simply refusing to participate in the train wreck you're orchestrating.”
“This entire state of affairs is you’re doing, young lady!” It was Jacob again, his face stretched in anger. “It began with your overzealous meddling. Now you intend to run away and leave us to clean up your mess."
"Oh, sure, I bear some responsibility. I was young and naive when placed in command. I didn't ask for that command. I would have been thrilled with simply being a member of a scout team, instead I was forced to grow and adapt much faster than many. My decisions have been under intense scrutiny since the beginning, by both the council and our Concordia masters," she gestured at the Tog. "Repeatedly I've been found to be in the right and acted appropriately. I never said I would not assist the Chosen. I will be happy to continue on, but only as a civilian. I won't subject myself to your petty whims and vagaries if you will not take my guidance. I've spent an unbelievable amount of time on this issue. So contact me when you have decided what civilian function you wish me to fulfill." She turned and began to leave.
"Are you certain you are willing to leave the Chosen?" Dram asked. Minu was disappointed to hear how unconcerned his voice sounded.
She looked over her shoulder at the table full of wide eyes and said "Completely. If you are unwilling to even entertain reality, I am unwilling to feed your delusions." She continued out the door. No one stopped her. As the door closed behind her she heard the council begin to yell recriminations at each other. She didn't miss a step as the door slammed shut.
Down the hall she entered the main rotunda where civilian workers hammered and welded on the levels above to repair the damage from the Rasa assault. When she turned toward her billet she found Cherise, Gregg and Aaron were all sitting in the reception area. They jumped to their feet as she approached. "How’d it go?" they all asked, running over each other.
"Looks like I'm a civilian," she said, her voice surprisingly stress free. It was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. The fate of humanity was no longer her responsibility.
"They threw you out?" Gregg asked. Minu chuckled.
"No," Cherise said, studying Minu’s face and adding a regretful head shake, "she quit."
"Those idiots," Aaron growled, "I'm going to give them a piece of my mind."
"Don't bother," Minu said and headed toward her billet, "although if you did it would double their intelligence. everything will work itself out in the end."
"So what are you going to do now?" Cherise asked.
"I think I'm going to go to school full time," she said, "maybe get a job." Maybe have a life, she added to herself. Her friends stayed behind in the rotunda and watched her walk away. None of them knew what to say.
It wouldn't take long to pack. The tablet with the chip from her father sat on her desk. As soon as she saw it she felt guilty. “I'm hoping you can use these files and records to help the Chosen move away from being a group of professional scavengers and to become the soldiers we're destined to be.”
"Sorry dad," she told the computer. She picked up her overnight bag. It wouldn't be hard to add the few personal possessions that she owned to it. Before she could start packing a soft, almost tentative knock came at the door. "Don't bother trying to talk me out of it." The knock repeated again so she opened the door. "I'll give you credit for persis-" A Tog stared at her with huge unblinking almond shaped eyes. She dropped to her knees. "Concordia master, I apologize."
"There is no need, rise Chosen." She stood, her head a full half meter above her visitors. "Your decision to leave our service was hasty."
"I don't believe so, Concordia master. If the Chosen do not intend to follow my recommendations, then little can be done. I won't be a party to my own species suicide."
"We are in agreement ."
"What did you say?" The Tog, ever literal, repeated hser statement word for word. "You agree with my recommendations?"
"Completely."
"Well, what is to be done?"
"Everything will be done."
"All my recommendations are being implemented?"
"With one exception."
"And which one is that?"
"You will not be transferred to your new branch of soldier."
"I guess I can live with that. What do you want me to do for you, Concordia master?"
“We want you to lead.” Hse held out one hand with three serpentine fingers. Hse turned it over palm up and the fingers unfolded. There sat a cluster of three golden stars.
Epilogue
January 22nd, 519 AE
Fort Jovich, Peninsula Tribe Territory
The new fortress was already taking shape. Massive dualloy beams soared a hundred meters over Minu's head as she walked along the ceramic concrete floor. A dozen civilian contractors followed her, all demanding that she listen to their problems. A big rain drop splattered on her shoulder. She looked up at the angry clouds racing across the sky. It would be the third monsoon that week, and the rainy season was still a month away.
"Chosen, you have to give priority to the completion of the new ceramic cement curing facility or you will never complete your main structural supports in time," one man finally managed to get out over the loud protests of the others.
"But if my haulers cannot get priority the remainder of the dualloy braces will not be in place to erect the much vaunted supports."
"And without the third workers camp I am trying to finish, none of these tasks can be staffed."
Minu sighed; all three of them had good points. "Okay, I'll give you all ten minutes with my assistant, Cherise, to work out a compromise. I'm sure all your schedules can be accommodated."
"I don't see how!" one of them howled. "Ridiculous," another said. "The rainy season is about to begin!" the third cried.
She rounded on them, shorter than each by easily twenty centimeters. They stopped in their tracks and took a step back. She held up a warning finger when one tried to talk. "It’s simple, if this structure isn't weather tight before the first serious storms begin at the end of March, then this entire facility will be under water, o
r worse, filled with water. If that happens, and we have to begin again next spring, I promise you we will hire off world contractors who will get the job done, and on schedule."
They held a hurried conversation between them before one spoke for the group. "We will speak with your specialist and figure a way to make it work."
"I thought you'd say that," she said and continued on her way. Minu left the trio in one of the dozens of Concordia made portable office modules. They were smaller than the ones made on Bellatrix but they were completely water tight with self-contained atmospheres. It sometimes rained so heavily that air processors could get flooded on the locally made modules. Minu navigated a series of trenches that would someday hold power conduits, now two meter deep rivers crossed by wooden bridges, and finally reached the east wall of the fortress. This section was nearly complete and held her office. A second after she hit the door rain began to pour from the sky. She slammed the door, already drenched.
"Hey boss," Aaron said from a computer terminal. The command center was full of Chosen and civilians, everything from engineers to construction workers. Dozens of computers hummed and holotanks showed the fortress in its future completed form or various sections under construction. Fort Jovich would be the home of the soldier branch of the Chosen. Out in an already sealed sub-basement was the portal once belonging to the Peninsula Tribe. Those people had settled many kilometers away and still lived a simple agrarian lifestyle. The city of Gulf was their largest settlement, several hundred kilometers away. Convincing them to give the Chosen the portal and a few thousand surrounding acres was a simple matter of money. "You having fun dealing with the contractors?"
"Oh, yeah," Minu scoffed, "nothing but fun." She dropped into the chair behind her desk and sighed. She wiped water from her long red hair using a towel kept at hand for the typically terrible weather. Her duty segment should have ended hours ago. Of course that was two progress meetings ago. Her computer was lit up like a winters eve tree with messages varying from important to urgent. She saw one from Dram, her boss, and opened it right away. It was a status update on the upcoming Trials. They were about to begin the preliminary written testing process for both full Chosen, and soldiers. Total applicants were over twenty thousand for five thousand slots. As she'd suspected, there was a lot of interest in a purely military branch of the Chosen. Five rounds of Trials were already scheduled, each with five thousand applicants. She fully expected to graduate two thousand from each group, and with a thousand of those making it through training. Two years from now, with Fort Jovich in operation the Chosen would have five thousand fully trained soldiers at its disposal.
Another message verified progress with the new weapons factory in Tranquility. Her wonderful little computer manufacturing micro-factory was cranking out a hundred computers a month. The other parts were acquired quietly off world, or brought in by Chosen scout salvage operations. A thousand Shock Rifles were finished and she expected to arm all the new soldiers by the time they were trained.
Still another message from Ted and Bjorn showed progress on the personal shields. Ted said there was tantalizing data to indicate it was possible to mass manufacture individual shields. They would be a pale imitation of the ones she and her team used to such good affect against the Rasa vendetta, only able to take one direct hit from a beamcaster or a few dozen flechette rounds. But unlike the device they were based on there would be no catastrophic detonation from overload.
She was ready to fall over from fatigue when she saw one more message she'd been waiting for. Gregg was back from a junk pile with container after container full of supposedly useless little crab-bots. There was already a score of private companies falling all over themselves contending for the contracts to modify them. She had some plans to integrate the modified little beasts into their tactics that would greatly increase her combat team’s effectiveness. All in all, only three months after the vendetta, plans were well underway.
"I'm taking two days off," she announced. Several technicians tried to get her attention and Aaron intercepted them deftly.
"Let the boss get some down time," he told them. They dejectedly relented to his wishes and she gave Aaron a grateful smile.
“I'll be in touch via email in the morning. Call if it's a disaster.”
“Get some rest. Noting much is going to happen here for a few days while the storm burns itself out.”
Minu stumbled off down the hall. The vehicle bay below was only partly finished and still crowded with personal transports of all types. She climbed into her hot little red aerocar and made a vertical takeoff. The weather hammered at the car despite its powerful impellers. She gritted her teeth for a tense minute as technology battled nature. Eventually technology won and she leveled off at ten thousand meters, well above the storm, and set the auto pilot for her retreat.
As the car hummed above the storm she yawned and relaxed for the first time in days. She was doing what she'd imagined months ago during their desperate fight against the Rasa. The Chosen would have soldiers, and those soldiers would attend her War College. More would follow after that, all trained to fight the varied Concordia species on their own terms, and with human ingenuity. Without realizing what was happening, she drifted off to asleep.
She was woken up by the car two hours later, it was time to land on the island. The weather at the family cabin was also raining lightly. She landed easily on the concrete pad, grabbed the bag she'd put in the car for this occasion, and ran through the wet into the house. The new environmental system she'd installed last month sensed her landing and the cabin was already warm and cozy by the time she came through the door. As she stripped and climbed into the big fluffy bed a hundred things whirled through her mind. Pip was still on life support. His brain had healed itself, leaving the scaring and missing tissue. The doctors said he was sort of conscious, trapped inside and unable to communicate with the outside world. She wondered what kind of personal hell he suffered through. The Rasa were more valuable then she thought possible. Hundreds of them worked on Fort Jovich, even during the monsoons! Turned out they found the driving rain and horrible heat quite comfortable. They were still kept carefully away from civilians. That secret would remain, for now. Var'at would hold the rank of Colonel in the Soldier branch, below only Minu and Dram. The question of his giving orders to humans or being issued Shock Rifles was yet to be solved.
Minu lay back and sighed, the sheets cool against her flesh. And then there was Christian, still missing. He and his team were not yet declared lost in action. Hope was held out that they were laying low and avoiding trouble. She was too busy most days to think about him. It was only in bed when he came to mind, usually. Was that all he'd meant to her? She couldn't answer her own question. And of course her father. His endless files provided ideas and guidance. She hadn't told anyone, somehow that seemed dangerous, and she still held out hope he was out there somewhere in the galaxy, doing who knows what. And the clues in those files still remained hidden.
What about the Weavers? She hadn't meditated on a portal since the day of the vendetta. Minu told herself it was because she'd been too damn busy, the truth was she was too damn scared. The sapphire necklace she wore around her neck was now on an indestructible dualloy chain. It silently spoke of the truth that the Weavers were real. That voice in her mind that led her to the password was theirs. So many questions, so much to do. How will I ever find time? She tried to clear her mind and sleep. She'd have to worry about finding more time, when she had more time. For now, there was work to be done. Her sleep was remarkably peaceful for a mind so full of turmoil.
In the morning she made a breakfast from the well-stocked pantry and checked her email. Aaron was carefully screening what got through, of that there was little doubt. The weather in Peninsula was still stormy, so she would get her two days off. She did feel a little guilty though, but as the day went on and the skies cleared outside her guilt was replaced by some much needed relaxation.
Every time she came
to the little cabin she did some more work. Repair some time caused wear damage here, upgrade a system there. Over the intervening months the cabin was really beginning to come together.
That morning she decided to do some simple work in the bedroom. She’d brought in new area rugs for the room way back when she first started staying at the cabin. But when she’d lay the rugs down, she’d inadvertently damaged one of the old pieces of furniture. A gorgeous four drawer dresser supposedly made by her storied ancestor’s husband. Pig farmer and amateur carpenter. Tool kit in hand she examined the piece. Considering his tools and the fact that the local hardwoods were far from that hard, he’d done a fabulous job. At least as far as her amateur eye could tell.
During the carpet installation, she’d pulled too hard on the five hundred year old dresser and nearly pulled a leg off. She surmised a little wood glue and a screw or two should fix the problem. She set to work and a half hour later the job was finished. Only the bottom drawer wouldn’t close properly now. “Oh great,” she grumbled and tried repeatedly to ‘gently’ force the drawer closed. On the final attempt it gave off an ominous ‘CRACK’. “Now you’ve done it,” she continued her solitary monologue and pulled the drawer entirely out.
There was no obvious damage to the rail, and also no obvious sign of why it wouldn’t go in after her repair. She leaned over and carefully eyed the track cut in the wood, and then she spotted it. A paperclip jammed in the track. Using a pair of pliers she extracted the clip and was about the reinsert the drawer when she thought; and where did that clip come from in a clothes dresser?
The drawer had contained only her clothes, and not much at that. When she’d moved in there was almost nothing left from previous occupants. A few pairs of shorts, a couple musty towels, and a box holding some linens that might well have come from Earth. They were rank and she’d long since sealed them in bags and shipped them off to the Plateau Historical Society. Minu removed her clothes and examined the drawer in detail. Nothing unusual. She was about to put it back in its place when she got a thought and flipped it upside down. The bottom was loose.
