The DI’s probably planned things this way, she thought, forcing herself to sit up. Put us in a nice dark, cool place and then chop us for drifting off. But she wasn’t about to get caught for something as stupid as that. A couple of the other recruits, including Enggredsdaater, already had been during a lecture earlier in the week, and they had paid for it by working double fire watches and doing duty in the commissary, scrubbing pans.
You’ll have to work a lot harder to catch me up like that, she thought fiercly.
At Sa’Tela’s order, everyone unwrapped their headsets, slipped them over their temples, and then waited for the feed to begin. Kaly knew that the Marine PTS used the same psionic system that realies did, but instead of allowing for passive observation, and a certain amount of intellectual distance, the PTS literally crammed information directly into the brain’s memory centers.
Kaly was fighting with herself again to stay awake, when the PTS feed began, jolting her to full consciousness. The lesson, on the field stripping and operation of the Mark 7 Blaster rifle, overpowered her tired brain and forced it to pay complete and total attention.
In seconds, her mind was force-fed every detail of the weapon down to its smallest component. By the end of half a metric minute, she knew all of the blaster’s specs, every emergency that had ever been encountered with it, every trouble-shooting procedure, and even how to drill with it on parade.
Abruptly, the feed stopped. Kaly’s head felt like a fried chikka egg that had been left out too long in the Hellan sun.
“All right, hatchies,” Sa’Tela said, “Get out of your chairs and come over to the table.”
Kaly took off her headset and stumbled up to the front of the room with the rest of the class, fighting off the fierce after-images that were left over from the feed. Once they were formed up, N’Vera pulled back the cover from the table, revealing brand new Mark 7 Blaster rifles.
“Each one of you will take a weapon,” Sa’Tela told them. “You will then field strip and reassemble it. Take up your weapon now, and begin disassembly.”
Kaly grabbed up one of the gleaming blasters and blinked stupidly, not quite sure how to begin. Then, in a flash of insight, she knew exactly what to do, and began to strip the weapon down. Her hands moved faster and faster as she worked, and with more and more assurance.
This is easy, she thought, amazed that anyone would ever be confounded by such a childishly simple task.
“Very well, Hatchies,” Sa’Tela said. “Now reassemble your weapon. You have ten seconds to complete this task. Go!”
Putting it together proved even more elementary than taking it apart. She had hers together in less than eight seconds, slapping an inert battery pack home with a satisfying click. She smiled in triumph and looked around to see if anyone else had managed to match her time.
Her grin disappeared when she saw that one recruit at the end of the table had not finished. It was Valeri bel Talla. She knew her a little better than the pair who had opted out. A native of a Fringe World like Persephone, Bel Talla had come up with her on the same shuttle, and they’d had a chance to talk briefly a couple of times.
Bel Talla was just standing there, looking down at the sprawl of parts before her with a look of complete confusion on her face. Tears streamed down from her eyes as she made a visible effort to comprehend what she was seeing, and Kaly’s heart went out to her. Sometimes the PTS feeds went like that, she recalled. A small percentage of minds either couldn’t handle the information, or simply rejected it.
The DI’s had also noticed the woman’s struggle, and they came over and tried to lead her away from the table.
“No!” she cried, “I can do this! I know I can. Stop! Please let me try! I just need a moment to remember!” There was a brief struggle before she finally surrendered and let them guide her out of the training room, the very picture of utter defeat.
Everyone knew that Bel Talla wouldn’t return. Her days as a recruit were over, and the platoon had lost its third member. Like the rest, Kaly wondered just how many more would opt out, or “fail to adapt” like Bel Talla had, before Basic finally ended.
“All right,” Sa’Tela said as she rejoined them. “All things considered, well done. The blaster rifle you are now holding is your personal weapon for the duration of Basic. Except for inspections, drills and range time, it will be stored in the platoon weapons locker. Anyone found in possession of a weapon at any other time will find themselves up on charges. Is everyone klaar?”
Kaly and her fellow recruits replied as one. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”
The Troop Leader held up a chit with a plastic neck-string attached to it. “You will be given a chit like this as a receipt when you store your weapon in the locker. If you need to requisition your weapon, you will be required to present your chit to your Platoon Armsmistress. Do not loose it! If you do, you will face punishment detail. Is everyone klaar?”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am!”
“Good. Your Armsmistress will be Platoon Leader bel Anny. She will be in charge of the locker along with Troop Leader n’Teri. Is everyone Klaar?”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am!”
“Good,” Sa’Tela replied. “You will now name your weapon and you will take care of it like a daughter. Damage it in any way, and you will wish you had never been born. That blaster is your life from here on out. Form up and stand to, and on my order, give me the name of your weapon!”
Everyone hustled over to the foot of the stage and stood at attention, weapons in the inspection position. As Sa’Tela walked down the line, questioning each trooper, Kaly desperately tried to come up with a fitting name for her blaster, but her imagination failed her. She was still struggling to compose something appropriate by the time the DI reached her.
“What is the name of your weapon, hatchie?” Sa’Tela asked.
Kaly had no choice but to blurt out the first thing that came into her overtired mind. It was the name of the first Navy ship that she had ever stepped aboard. “Ma’am, this recruit’s weapon is named Athena!” she hollered.
“Athena?” Sa’Tela replied. “That’s a pretty grand name for a blaster, hatchie. You’d better live up to that with some expert shooting, or I’ll make you change it.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am!”
Sa’Tela nodded in approval and moved on. After she had gotten names from everyone, she addressed the entire platoon. “Because I am so pleased with your progress today, you will have twelve minutes of free-time. Make good use of it.”
Everyone headed for the same place: their racks. Like the rest, Kaly had learned that twelve metric minutes was plenty of time to get some real sleep. She stowed her weapon in the locker, and after receiving her chit, made straightaway for her bunk. She was fast asleep before her head had even finished hitting the pillow.
Maristown, New Covenant, Bethlehem System, Telesalla Elant, United Sisterhood of Suns, 1043.01|17|05:50:59
500 light years away, Jon fa’Teela sat on a small wooden bench and watched the waves hitting the beach far below him. The neoman was in his Marine dress uniform, and his kit bag lay nearby. It was the final day of his leave after completing Advanced Infantry Training, and he wanted to savor as much of his motherworld as he could. He knew that it would be a long time before he might have the chance to return.
While the sunlight played over the waters, he took a deep breath of the sea air and tried to compose himself. Although he now wore the coveted Eye of the Goddess pin on his tunic, signifying his graduation from the brutal training course on Hella’s World, he knew that his greatest challenges still lay ahead.
The neoman closed his eyes and prayed for the tenth time that day. Jesu, watch over me as I go forth, he asked silently, guide me as I promote Thy faith and carry out Thy mission. Mother Mari, be with me through all my trials and turn the hearts of those that I might meet towards my favor.
He opened his eyes again. A Marionite Sister was standing nearby, looking for the entire world like an angel in her
white robes. It was Sister n’Avenal, his long time mentor and teacher.
“Jon?” she said, “the Marine Liaison Officer is here. She’s waiting for you up in the Abbesses’ office.”
Jon stood and gathered up his bag. “Thank you, Sister.”
He started to follow N’Avenal up the steep gravel path, but then he stopped. “Sister? May I make a confession?”
Sister n’Avenal turned to him and smiled. “Of course. What do you wish to confess, my son?”
“I have doubts about my fitness, Sister,” he admitted. “I’m not sure that I’m the right vessel for this task.” There, he thought, it was out in the open at last.
Sister n’Avenal clasped his hands and looked at him compassionately. “Jon, that alone is reason enough to send you forth. The Holy Mother Church would never have chosen anyone who did not possess the proper humility for such a great responsibility.”
“Yes, Sister,” Jon replied, “and I don’t question the Church’s wisdom, but I don’t know if I will have the strength to accomplish my work. I barely made it through Hella’s World, and I don’t know if I’ll be so lucky with my new unit.”
“Your burden is a terrible one indeed, Jon fa’Teela,” N’Avenal agreed, “but luck is not involved. As it tells us in the scriptures, ‘’It is the Creator’s Will that we shall save the unbelievers from their blindness with the light of Truth.’’
“It is also His Will that we shall help restore the order of things as He intended them; that men and women should share the stars together, and open the way for the Great Redeemer to return to us. I know that Jesu and Mari will surely watch over you, and that you will prevail for you are acting in His name. Draw strength from your Faith and go forth without any doubt in your heart.”
“I will, Sister,” Jon promised.
“Our prayers will be with you, Jon.” She reached into her robes and handed him a small book. It was a traveler’s copy of the Revelation of Mari, the holiest book of the Marionite faith, and he took it from her reverently.
“I carried this with me when I was a young missionary on Thermadon,” N’Avenal explained. “It gave me great comfort during times of trouble and I wanted you to have it.”
It was more than just a gift from a teacher to her student. The presentation of the book also formally symbolized the final step in becoming a missionary for the Church. The fact that she had honored him with her own copy only underscored the importance of what he was about to undertake, and made it even more sacred.
“Thank you, Sister. I will read it often,” he replied, stowing it carefully in his kit bag.
Sister n’Avenal smiled and then her expression became grave. “There’s more that I must tell you, Jon. A missionary’s life can be a hard and dangerous one. The Sisterhood barely tolerates the Church, and the time may come when you might need the aid of the Faithful who live in secret among the unbelievers. Should you ever have such a need, look for our signs. Where you see them, you will also find aid and comfort.”
Jon inclined his head in understanding. Just as their distant ancestors had in ancient Rome, the Faithful of the present identified each other through the use of covert symbols. The most common were the three sacred stars, representing the Father, His Son, Jesu, and the Holy Mother, Mari. It was something that every member of the Church who planned a journey away from the Marionite worlds learned, but he was grateful for the reminder, if only because it reassured him that he would not be completely alone in a hostile universe.
“There is something else, Jon,” she added. “Some of us have a special calling in this life, and the Creator chooses us from among His flock to do His Will.’
”I have known you for many years, and He has already selected you to be His missionary. But I also think that you may be called upon to serve Him in another way as well.’
“If it is His Will that this is to be, He will send you a message through the Faithful so that you will know when, and how, you are to act. Look to the Book of Sacred Numbers for its meaning, and then accept your lot with meekness and obedience.”
“I shall do whatever is asked of me, Sister,” Jon responded. He felt humbled that such a great trust was being placed in him, and also a little intimidated. Even so, he kept his composure, and met her gaze squarely.
“I have never doubted that you would, my son,” N’Avenal assured him. She made the sign of the cross over him, and then kissed his forehead. “Be blessed. May Jesu and Mari walk with you wherever your footsteps might take you.”
CHAPTER 8
USSNS Pallas Athena: In Space Dock, Rixa Naval Base, Rixa, Belletrix System, Pantari Elant, United Sisterhood of Suns, 1043.01|19|04:21:29
The Marine stationed at the docking tube glanced up at Jon, and then did a double take.
“Fa‘Teela, Jon 447689231, reporting for duty, ma’am,” he stated calmly.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No, ma’am,” Jon replied. He handed her the flimsy with his orders printed on it. The Private read them, and then re-read them, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“Just a moment,” she said. Then she spoke into her com. “Troop Leader, there’s a neoman down here at Bay 32. She, er, he, says he’s supposed to report for duty with Anna Company.” She looked back up at Jon. “Troop Leader Da’Saana is on her way. You… just…stay here.”
Jon nodded and set down his kit bag. A few Navy crewwomen passed by and a number of them stopped in their tracks and looked at him with open curiosity. Jon was used to this though, and returned their insolent stares with a polite smile. Wherever he went in the Sisterhood, women always stopped and gawked at him.
When Troop Leader Da’Saana arrived, she took one look at him, and then her face reddened as she scrutinized his orders. “What is this?! These orders say that this—this thing--is supposed to report for active duty with my unit? I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen! Come on, you, we’re going to go see the Officer of the Day right now!”
The Troop Leader turned and stomped back up the ramp, cursing loudly. Jon followed at a discrete distance.
The moment that they reached Colonel Lislsdaater’s office, Da’Saana demanded to speak with the officer in charge of the watch. She got her wish granted a second later when the Colonel herself came outside to see what all the commotion was about. She had returned early from her leave, and the short vacation had done nothing to improve her temper. Despite this however, she listened with apparent calm to the Troop Leader’s complaint.
“Colonel? Did you know about this? This is outrageous!” Da’Saana sputtered.
“Troop Leader, we will discuss this in my office,” Lislsdaater replied evenly. “Fa‘Teela? You come too. Let’s go.”
As soon as they were behind closed doors, Da’Saana exploded again. “Colonel, you can’t let them do this to my unit! I can’t have this creature with my girls! It’ll drive morale straight down the toilet!”
It was at that point that Lislsdaater abandoned her calm façade. “For one thing, Troop Leader,” she said, her voice rising, “they are not your girls. They are mine. For another, I knew all about this. I also know that these orders come directly from Rixa, and have been signed by the Commandant herself. Do you think it’s your place to question her orders, Troop Leader?”
“No, ma’am, but--”
“But nothing, Troop Leader!” Lislsdaater snapped. “You may not like these orders, but you will follow them. Is that completely clear, Troop Leader? Or do I need to explain things to you any further?”
Da’Saana snapped to attention. “Ma’am, no, ma’am!”
The Colonel walked around her desk and planted herself directly in front of Jon. “Now, Trooper fa’Teela, I understand that you neomen are homosexual. Is that correct?”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Jon replied. He was also at attention by this point and made certain to keep his eyes straight ahead.
“And why may I ask is that, Fa‘Teela?”
“Ma’am, although my faith celebrates
Our Savior’s first birth through Mother Mari, and awaits the day of His return, we also believe in being good citizens and obeying the conventions of society by maintaining the separation of the sexes.”
“So, you’re all just a bunch of decent, law-abiding people are you?” the Colonel sneered. “That’s good, for your sake.”
She paused, letting her words hang in the air. Then she continued. “Since the Corps has decided to make our outfit the showcase for this sick little social experiment, there are a few things I want to make perfectly clear to you.’
“Number one. For the record, I do not approve of your presence in the Corps, or your posting here. Nor do I appreciate the havoc that it will undoubtedly cause among my troops, and I will be watching you very closely. If you make enough mistakes then I will have the distinct pleasure of transferring you to the most miserable hole I can find for you.’
“Number Two. You will at all times comport yourself in a professional manner. You will be every centimeter of the perfect Marine. Your kind has a long, sad record of emotional instability and violence, and I will not tolerate any incidents of any kind while you are with us. Give me cause, and I will happily send you to the brig in irons.’
“Number Three. Even though you say that you have no interest in women, your kind’s history is another matter. You will keep your relations with your fellow troopers above board at all times. If I have any indication that there has been any form of perversion caused by you, or participated in by you, I will see you and whoever you coupled with, brought up on charges, and I can guarantee a guilty verdict. Are we completely clear on all this?”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Jon replied.
“Very well. Make sure I do not see you in this office again for any reason. Troop Leader, get this trooper down to Five-Bar and get him a rack. Make sure that it is cordoned off from the other troopers, and make sure that she – he – has some separate facility that he can use for his bodily functions.”
Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena Page 27
