by Ian Miller
Then names were read out, and it seemed that the corresponding decorations would emerge from a drawer in the box before them. These were for acts of bravery during the battle, and were graduated according to importance, the more important ones coming later, and the degree of importance being recognized by the number of foot stamps. About mid-way through this, Vipsania's name was called in amongst a number of others, her drawer opened, and there was a medal in the shape of a cross. With the other, she pinned it on, stood to attention, and received the roar of five volleys of hob-nailed boots from forty thousand troops stamping on stone, while a light shone on her face.
The awards continued, each one seeming to be more important, until eventually the list was completed. At this point, Vipsania was feeling rather uncomfortable; she felt that she had done less than the other two, yet she alone had been recognized. Then the speaking system came to life again, and announced that a number of field promotions would now be announced. Again, they began to work their way up from the lowest, and, as the ranks became higher, the numbers became fewer. Then came a surprising announcement: although not strictly speaking a promotion because they started without a formal commission, both Lucilla and Vipsania had commanded ships for periods, and therefore were formally commissioned as squadron commanders. Their faces were lit up, their drawers opened and, as the stomping boots acknowledged them there were the shiny lapel badges. The promotions continued, but by now there were few in each rank, and soon these were completed.
There was a silence, then a podium at the northern end was lit up, and an Ulsian who seemed taller than most, and who was dressed in civilian attire, stepped forward and began speaking. "We have now formally completed awards made by the field commanders, and I congratulate all recipients. However, there are some awards only the Ulsian Government itself can make. Because of the relativistic effects, it is customary for the Ulsian Government to send representatives formally empowered to make these awards. It is my pleasure to announce our awards.
"There is a longstanding tradition in the Ulsian military," he continued, "of a very special award for a General who, amongst other things, successfully takes a planet by defeating an equivalent or superior force. General Slaben has achieved this by taking the Ligra 2 system, which was stationed by a superior force . . ." An account of the battle sequences was read out, starting with the landings. While this happened, General Slaben stepped forward, under full lighting, knelt, then two Ulsian soldiers stepped forward and proceeded to remove the symbols of rank from him. ". . . Accordingly," the voice continued, "you are hereby awarded the rank of Marshall of the Army, together with all the rights and honours that go with the title." The giant screen showed four symbols that, as Gaius remarked later, looked remarkably like green sheaves of wheat. These were taken, and pinned on the lapels and on the arms. When this was completed, the two Ulsian soldiers stepped back. "Arise, Field Marshall Slaben," came the announcement. There was complete silence for three minutes, during which time all soldiers held a salute. Then Slaben returned the saluted, there was wild stomping, and he returned to his position. When he formally took up his formal position, the stomping stopped, instantaneously.
"In fact," the voice continued, "a third planet was taken. This has given us a problem," he paused, then added with an Ulsian laugh, "for while there was a formally superior force present, it was completely inebriated!" Laughter spread throughout the troops. "Nevertheless," the Ulsian continued, "if that planet had not been taken at that time, give or take an hour or so, Ulse would have lost a great many more ships, because the ground defences on Ligra 3 would have been turned on our ships rather than theirs, and had that space battle been lost, the remaining enemy fleet would have controlled space and the enemy would never have surrendered. What the outcome would have been we cannot tell, but it would most certainly have been far bloodier than it was, and there was certainly no guarantee of success.
"We have searched and searched our history, and find there is an honour that covers this situation. It is the Order of Camran, one of the most honourable orders of our history, and carries with it a number of special privileges. Accordingly, our newly appointed Admiral Klendor is hereby made a Commander of this order." It was now the turn of Klendor to step forward, kneel, and in a simpler ceremony, a disc with a cold blue gemstone embedded in its centre was pinned to his uniform. When the soldiers stepped back, Klendor arose, and in turn was greeted with a two-minute silent salute, the wild cheering while he returned to his position, then the silence.
"There were," the voice continued, "two officers responsible for retaking Ligra 3." The light now highlighted Lucilla. "Accordingly, Squadron Commander Claudia Lucilla is hereby made a Commander of this order, and, as far as we can make out, is only the second non-Ulsian in the history of Ulse to receive this award. Please step forward." As Lucilla was to remark later, she felt quite embarrassed, however she followed the procedure, and, as she was also to remark later, felt quite light-headed and proud as she received the stomping, so much so that she temporarily forgot the anger she was beginning to feel at Gaius having been systematically overlooked.
"As most of you are aware," the speaker said, "the order of these awards, when non-Ulsians are involved, is that the non-Ulsians are the last to receive awards, so that they may have the benefit of having seen the ceremony. We have one final award, and there is no proper illustration for this. One Terran here fought under the rank of his own army, and we cannot remove that. Nevertheless, under that rank a superior enemy fleet was destroyed, an absolute prerequisite for the taking and holding of the Ligra system, and, as far as we are aware, giving Ulse its first major victory in this war. Accordingly, Claudius Scaevola, Legatus, you are hereby awarded the rank of Marshall of the Fleet, together with all the rights and honours that go with the title." Again, the giant screen showed four symbols, this time looking remarkably like black sheaves of wheat. The small box in front of Gaius somehow advanced forward, and Gaius followed it, and as the drawer opened, knelt. Two Ulsian soldiers appeared, and pinned these onto his lapels and arms. The soldiers then stepped back, and when Gaius heard the voice say, "Arise Gaius Claudius Scaevola, Marshall of the Fleet," he stood at attention, and stared across at the silent salutes. Meanwhile the box in front of him produced a screen, which prompted him. After the three minutes, it said, in Latin, 'Return Slowly'. He did, and when he finally felt he had drawn it out sufficiently, he swung around to face the troops, and the stomping stopped instantaneously.
"And now," the Ulsian said with a chuckle, "what you have all really wanted. As is traditional following such a victory, it is time to feast and drink. Do not forget your fallen comrades, but equally do not let their memory prevent you from enjoying your life, for they would not want that. You are all dismissed, and your only orders are to enjoy yourselves, and be coherent tomorrow."
There was a huge noise, and the three Terrans could do no more than hug each other. Eventually Gaius felt a tug on his sleeve, and he looked around to see the Ulsian soldiers who had been assisting them with the ceremony salute and say, "We have special food for you, sir, if you would all follow me."
Gaius turned towards the women, and said, "Let's go and eat."
The eating-place turned out to be quite an extended area, which, bearing in mind the huge numbers present, seemed excessive to Vipsania. The food, however, was good, and there was plenty of drink, including an effort by the Tin Man to reconstruct Gaius' Egyptian beer. Gaius took some meat and vegetables on a plate and was about to walk off when a soldier stopped him.
"With respect sir, where are you going?"
"I want to see some of my soldiers," Gaius replied simply. "I want to congratulate some of them, and . . ."
"Then, please, could you please stay here. It is an Ulsian custom that all those who fought under an honoured officer have the right to come and congratulate him. You, of course, can return the congratulations, and speak to whomever you like. This has the benefit that everyone who wants to see you know
s where you are, while if you wander off . . ."
"I take the point," Gaius smiled. And so, after they had eaten, they took their places along the zone allocated to them, and a stream of Ulsians came to them. The afternoon became evening, and it was very late when three very hoarse Terrans finally left the stadium.
* * *
"I am sorry you could not be present at the public victory celebrations," Slaben announced, when they were summoned to him the following day, "however I had strict orders on this matter from Ulse when I left."
"We understand," Gaius replied, perhaps a little stiffly.
Slaben smiled, as if acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation, then said to Gaius, "I confess that at the time I was rather nervous about your strategy."
"What you really mean," Gaius said with a laugh, "is that you wished you hadn't handed over control, and I completely understand that. Putting your planet's future in the hands of −"
"Don't say primitive!" Slaben said.
"Actually, I was going to say, anyone else," Gaius replied, not altogether truthfully. "That I understand completely. Mind you, the strategy was from my time."
"It was?"
"With obvious modifications, I refought the Battle of Cannae."
"A famous Roman victory?"
"No, it was one of Rome's worst days. Seventy thousand Romans died in a matter of two to three hours. Obviously, things are different now, but I thought that if I could deceive them into what was going on, that strategy led to a general flanking opportunity. It was the flanking that did the Roman force in, and I thought the same would apply here."
"It appears you thought correctly," Slaben nodded in approval. "I never said so before, but thank you."
"Thank you for believing in me," Gaius replied. "So what happens now?"
"You and Klendor, return to Ulse with the news," Slaben said.
"There must be easier ways to send news," Gaius frowned.
"But not as securely," Slaben said. "In any case, you must go back and get those things off your heads."
"That would be a good idea," Gaius nodded. "And you?"
"I have my current plans in this message sphere here," Slaben said. "Take it back to Ulse. However, I can summarize. I intend to repair our fleet, build more ships, train more troops, and go after this star system here. If we're successful, we'll work our way back out, star by star, until we have our territory back again."
"Then I suppose we wish you good luck," Gaius said.
"And goodbye," Slaben said. "As you are going back to Ulse, our time lines will almost certainly never cross again. I know you were disappointed not to join the parade, but I assure you it was important. Good luck to you in the future."
"And to you too," Gaius replied.
* * *
They departed three days later. Gaius' ship had been partly repaired, and structural integrity was assured for relativistic travel. The ship itself, however, would then be decommissioned. Shielding was destroyed, cloaking destroyed, life support was only partly functional, and weapons were now working at only forty per cent efficiency. Only the motors were undamaged, and it was easier to remove those and put them into a new ship than to repair the old ships.
There was a certain nervousness as they boarded their ships, but they had to believe the Ulsian engineers. So they had a joint meal with what was left of their dwindling supplies, rejoined their ships, took a last look at the Ligra system as they began accelerating, then retired to their bunks.
Chapter 35
"Welcome back to Ulse," the Tin Man said. He stood there, leaning against the doorpost. "Did you sleep well?"
"It just seems as if I went to sleep last night," Gaius said, "although I do feel a trifle hungry."
"We were so close to relativistic speed that little time has passed," the Tin Man said. "In effect, you have been asleep for a few days."
"And Ulse? How are they? How is the war going?"
"Better than they were a few days ago," the Tin Man said. "They detected our ships at long range, saw how few there were, saw the damage, and decided we must have lost disastrously. There was a huge hue and cry, with demands to know why just the humans had returned, and why the Ulsians were all killed."
"No welcoming party here either," Gaius nodded ruefully.
"Far from it. The correct information has been relayed forward. You should eat, refresh yourself, collect all your belongings and prepare to descend to the planet's surface."
"Collect my belongings?"
"You will never return to this ship again," the Tin Man said. "It is too seriously damaged to be worth full repair as a battleship, and even if it weren't, with your new rank, you will warrant a top class ship."
"This isn't?" Gaius asked.
"Certainly not in its current condition. When you boarded it was close to the best available," the Tin Man said, "but better designs have been made. Now, you must go. May your Gods go with you now and for the rest of your life."
Gaius stared at the Tin Man. "This almost sounds like you don't think you will see me again?" he frowned.
"No. I shall not. I do not have sufficient functionality, and that what I have is breaking down. I shall be scrapped."
"You must be repaired!" Gaius said. "You're almost like family, in a funny sort of way," he added.
"Kind of you to say so, but no. I shall be either scrapped or retained by the freighter. My memories relating to you will, however, be transferred to your new Companion. Whatever Timothy knew will be retained. So, fare well."
"Then I hope you're not scrapped," Gaius said. He felt strange, as he watched the Tin Man almost hobble away.
* * *
It was only when he was descending to the surface and could turn to take a last look at his ship that he suddenly realized how seriously damaged the ship was. He looked over at the others. Vipsania's ship, which had been withdrawn after the first battle because the damage made it non-battle-worthy was probably the one in best condition. Almost half the outer skin and some of the interior of Lucilla's ship had been vaporized. From a distance it looked not unlike a toy some giant rat had half devoured.
The spaceport was almost deserted when they landed. Klendor was there to meet them, and help them back to their apartment where, as expected, even though they did not believe it would be, it was identical to when they left it. Except, as Klendor pointed out, it was not even in the same city!
And there was no Tin Man at the door. Even Lucilla felt sorry for him when she was told of his impending fate.
The next twenty days were days that none of them enjoyed. They were taken to what was regarded as the leading research medical centre where, a droid explained to them in the usual impassive voice, they would get the head implants that had been designed for them.
"Hah! At last we can get these things off our heads!" Lucilla said.
"Oh yes," the droid said, with a total lack of emotion, "irrespective of what happens, you will have those removed."
"What do you mean, irrespective?" Lucilla frowned.
"You may not wish to go through with this," the droid explained. "Let me explain what is involved."
What followed was, as Vipsania noted later, as good a diatribe as any to dissuade them. The essence was simple. Ulsian science was as sure as it could be that the process they were going to provide would work, but on a new species they could never be absolutely sure. The usual procedure was to do the best possible, but retain the option of later optimizing everything by trial and error. Unfortunately, there was a distinct lack of subjects for trials. The process was quite irreversible, so if anyone wished to pull out, this was the time to say so. The process was also likely to be quite painful and distressing until the brain got used to the alternative sensations. It was not that the brain itself would feel problems, but until it adjusted, the brain would be sending the wrong messages through the body, which would lead to pain.
The Terrans stared at each other. Then, taking a quick breath, Lucilla volunteered to be first. A
s she stepped forward, she turned and looked at Gaius. "I want you to promise me something."
"What is it?" Gaius asked, although the serious tone of his voice suggested that he had an inkling of what was coming.
"I want you to promise," she said, "that if this goes all wrong and if I am incoherent, you will kill me."
"Kill you?" Vipsania gasped. "Isn't that . . ."
"Vipsania, whatever else I may be able to put up with," Lucilla said firmly, "I do not wish to remain as some sort of extremely sore vegetable for the rest of my life."
Gaius nodded. "I shall first make sure that any problem cannot be fixed," he said in a flat tone, "but if not, I promise I shall end your misery."
Lucilla lay on a table, her head firmly clamped through the head attachment, then she was put to sleep. When she awoke the following morning, she was back in a bed, with Gaius and Vipsania at her side. The head attachment had gone.
She smiled weakly, then screamed. Her back arched, she screamed again, then a droid injected her with something. Lucilla lapsed back to sleep.
"How is she?" Gaius asked apprehensively.
"According to our readings," the droid replied, "this has gone extremely well so far."
"It didn't look like it," Vipsania said doubtfully.
"Oh, all Ulsians go through much worse than that," the droid said. He paused, then added, "Of course Lucilla is not finished yet."
The next morning when she woke, she lay there, then slowly turned her head. "Hello!" she said, then grimaced in pain.
"Excellent!" the droid said, and sent her back to sleep.
Two days later, they watched as Lucilla was introduced to her Krezell wand. It was placed in her hand, and after a limited amount of twitching from Lucilla, it was taken away and Lucilla was allowed to rest. The droid announced that the connection had been a complete success.
After five days, Lucilla was able to sit up in bed, talk, and have only the odd flash of pain. She could walk, somewhat unsteadily, then she was given her first task. She was given an eight hundred-page book, and told she must memorize everything in it.
