Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena

by Martin Schiller

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Da’Saana escorted Jon in stony silence down to Five-Bar. Despite the confusion his presence caused there, no one dared say anything to the Troop Leader when she relayed the Colonel’s commands. He was shown to a rack in the back of the furthest pod and a grey plastic tarp was hastily taped up in front of it, effectively isolating it from the other sleeping areas.

  Arranging for his bathroom was another matter all together. The Marines used communal facilities that could not be partitioned as easily. In the end, Da’Saana had to go begging to the Navy Liaison Officer. A bathroom, two decks up that was not in general use by the crew, was finally designated for his use.

  Then Da’Saana handed him a small Marine-grey data terminal. “It’s a pathminder,” she explained. “While you are on board, we will be sending you on work details. You will use this to get around the ship. The instructions are on the face. Do you think you can handle them, or are they too complicated?”

  Jon looked at the small device and read the first few instructions. “No, ma’am, I think I can get this to work.”

  “We’ll see,” Da’Saana said doubtfully. “Frankly, I’m surprised you can even read. Lunch is 05:00 hours in the mess. Be there or go hungry.” With that, she was gone, casting evil glances at several troopers who had gathered to watch their conversation. Wisely, the women quickly found other things to occupy their attention.

  Jon ignored their whispers, and went to his cubicle, drawing the privacy curtain closed and laying on the bed to study the pathminder more closely. The screen offered him three choices; General Ship’s Information, Navigation, and Emergency Procedures.

  From his experiences on Hella’s World, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before Da’Saana would be grilling him on every piece of information, so he decided to get to work right away. After setting an alarm with his psiever, he tapped the tiny elzlate pad. A schematic of the ship appeared in mid-air and a voice began to speak.

  “Welcome aboard the United Sisterhood of Suns Naval Ship, Pallas Athena,” it said,“registration number SBC 1323. Named for the ancient Greek goddess Pallas Athena, guardian of ancient Athens, the Athena is 325 standard years old. She is one of the first of the Isis-Class warships, built to repulse the Hriss invasion fleets of the Second Widow’s War and lay siege to enemy planets. Her official insignia is an owl, face affronte on field sable.’

  “Construction first began on the Athena at the Cingulum X Naval Yards in 717.15 and took five years to complete at a cost of 58,393,478,672 credits. The first antimatter reactor core was installed on 723.15 and criticality was achieved on 725.18. The fourth reactor achieved criticality on 726.30 and was operated at full power on 727.20.’

  “Official commissioning ceremonies were held on 729.47, when command was given over to the Athena’s first Commander, Hila n’Tanya. After Commander n’Tanya died in 773.07, her personality was translated into the Athena’s main computer, according to the terms of her will.’

  “She continued to serve until 973.39 when her personality matrix became unstable. At that time, temporary occupancy was granted to the personality of Admiral Juli sa' Chani, who served until the computers present personality matrix, Commander Dana bel Hanna, the third commander of the Athena, could be translated in 1023.22. Commander bel Hanna continues to act as the guiding intelligence for the ships computer systems as of this date.’

  “The Athena measures 1000 meters, or one Standard kilometer. At her widest, she is 333.33 meters and 200 meters tall at her highest point. She has one resident fighter wing, the Nighthunters and also hosts one Marine detachment, the 115th Combined Combat Regiment, Hekate’s Hounds, who act as a combat force for any planet-side actions.”

  Jon’s psiever interrupted at this point, reminding him that it was now 04:94:93 hours. He had only a short time to get to the mess hall and eat lunch. After the day he’d had so far, the last thing he wanted was to go hungry. He quickly punched up the navigation function and selected the mess hall set aside for the Marines.

  A bright red ball materialized. “Please follow the red ball to your destination,” the pathminder advised. “At normal walking speed you should reach it from your present location in two-point-nine standard minutes, including lift time.”

  ***

  The mess hall was filled with Marines waiting in line for lunch, but when Jon stepped into the chow line, they backed away and let him walk it by himself. While he selected his meal, he did his best to ignore all the eyes that were on him, and the whispered comments that followed, but it was impossible to filter everything out.

  “Goddess,” he heard one trooper say, “Is that the neoman? Look at the size of that ugly brute! He looks like some kind of animal.”

  “Close enough,” another sneered. “I think it’s damned insulting that the Corps would allow something like that to wear our uniform.”

  “It’s not their choice,” a third woman piped in, “it’s those fekking politicians caving into the Marionites.”

  “Yeah, those filth,” the first agreed.

  Jon moved himself out of earshot and finished with his selections. When he reached the end of the line, he looked for a place to sit down.

  Only a few of the tables in the hall had extra seats, but as he approached each one, he was rewarded with sullen looks from their occupants, and trays were quickly shoved into any open space, denying him a place. Rather than challenge anyone, he moved on, finally locating an empty table at the very back of the hall.

  It was then that he realized that he had been so distracted by the hostile reception that he had forgotten to get himself any utensils to eat with. A caddy stood in a corner nearby and he got up to get himself a knife and spork.

  But when he came back to his table, his tray had been turned over and his meal was lying in a puddle on the floor. A few Marines watched him with casual hostility, and one or two even laughed as he picked it up and went back to the chow line to get himself another lunch.

  ***

  At reveille, Jon was given orders to report to MedBay. Troop Leader Da’Saana’s mood had not improved in the intervening hours. “The ship’s Doctor wants to take a look at you, Fa‘Teela,” she frowned. “She probably can’t believe that we have such a freak on board and wants to see for herself. Use your pathminder, and don’t let me find out you wasted any time getting there, Klaar?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jon consulted the pathminder and determined that the MedBay was two decks up from him and towards the bow. When the red ball appeared in his vision, he followed it. As always, crewwomen stopped what they were doing and stared at him, but he kept moving.

  As he reached the lift and stepped into it, a pair of techs looked at him in surprise and made no secret of edging away to the other side of the car. Jon smiled pleasantly, and ignored them as they whispered to each other. To everyone’s collective relief, his stop came up, and he got out without a backwards glance.

  The nurse at the MedBay receiving desk was a little more professional, and if she had any reservations about his presence, the young officer didn’t display it outwardly. “Fa‘Teela? Dr. elle’Kaari is waiting for you in exam room 5. There’s a pair of nighteyes, in the box by the door. You’ll want to use them.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jon replied, suddenly realizing that his doctor would be a Nyxian.

  Nyx was one of the most famous BioWorlds. Due to an excess of solar radiation, the majority of its native life had evolved to live a purely nocturnal existence. In the absence of sunlight, Nyxian fauna tracked their quarry, or avoided becoming prey themselves, by sensing energy fields with the same sensitivity that Gaian sharks had once been able to smell droplets of blood in kilometers of ocean. Its flora had also specialized, using scent, bioplasmic fields and phosphorescence to either attract pollinators, or deter predation.

  The first human settlers to encounter this unique ecosystem had followed the doctrine of biosyncronism to the letter, genet
ically engineering their offspring to emulate local conditions. They had also taken the step of copying the physical traits of some of the more compatible life forms, and integrating them into the physical design of their progeny.

  The end result was a race that was able to see the body’s physical energy, and by extension, accurately diagnose illnesses and injuries. This remarkable trait led to the planet producing some of the finest doctors in the Sisterhood, and the eventual establishment of one of its premier medical universities, the University of Nyx at Nocturne.

  There was a price for such adaptation however. This was a form of extreme albinism, and Nyxians were forced to wear special protective clothing, collectively known of as the Qada, whenever they ventured forth in normal light. Like most of the animals native to their world, direct exposure to full spectrum light caused severe, and even fatal cellular damage for a Nyxian woman caught in the open without her Qada.

  Instead of considering this to be a handicap, the women of the Night World embraced their genetic heritage, and their unique culture. They referred to themselves as the Moonborn, and wore their black Qadas with pride. And everywhere they went, these full-body garments symbolized the role that many of them played as master healers and guardians of health. They were a welcome sight to most women, and the color black itself, stood universally for help, health and well-being.

  The only exception was on the Marionite worlds. Historically, the early New Catholic Church of the Revelation of Mari had not welcomed the Nyxians any more than they had the other bioworld human-variants. To the first Marionite elders, their very existence had been anathema, and their special abilities tantamount to witchcraft.

  The passage of centuries had eventually led to a relaxation of this extreme view, and its official repudiation by the Church, but there were still many of the Faithful who were not comfortable with the Moonborn, or their medicine. On Faith, Hope, and New Covenant, medical care was provided to the population the “old fashioned way”, and this, along with the negative view that the Sisterhood itself had towards the Marionites, ensured that few Nyxian physicians ever graced these star systems with their talents.

  Jon did not have the luxury of being uncomfortable, however. Orders were orders, and the Corps didn’t factor in his personal feelings when it came to issuing them. Nor did it care about any religious basis they might have had. In fact, the Corps didn’t officially recognize his religion at all. He was to report to the ship’s doctor and submit to her care, irrespective of her race or culture.

  With this in mind, Jon put on the nighteyes and went through the door into a small antechamber. A holosign immediately materialized at eye-level urging him to close the door behind him, and warning that the inner door would not unlock until he had complied with these instructions. The neoman obeyed, and when the inner door opened, he was glad for the nighteyes. The room beyond was completely dark, and without them he would have never even found the exam table.

  The doctor entered a moment later. “Trooper fa’Teela? I’m Dr. Saara elle’Kaari, Senior Ships Medical Officer.”

  Jon had expected to see her dressed in her Qada, but Elle’Kaari only wore plain black scrubs instead. He had never seen a Nyxian without their Qada, even in a holo, and her physical appearance startled him. The woman’s skin was pure white like her hair, which she had bound up into a simple bun. And her irises were the palest shade of blue that was possible, coming just short of being completely colorless.

  Elle’Kaari fully understood the effect that she had had on him. “I’m sorry if how I look alarms you,” she apologized. “Sometimes I catch my patients by surprise the first time they visit me. It’s just that I prefer to work without my Qada, hence the need for a darkened room. I guess that’s the price I have to pay for being a little different.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jon agreed. Being different gave them something in common, he realized. “I’m afraid I must confess that I really haven’t had much experience with the women from your world.”

  “Nor I with neomen,” Elle’Kaari replied. “In fact, I had heard that there still weren’t any Moonborn serving on the Marionite worlds, but I didn’t quite believe it. Is this true?”

  Jon nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Who provides your medical care if we don’t?”

  “The Sisters have their own physicians, ma’am,” he answered. “None of them are Nyxian.”

  Elle’Kaari shook her head in astonishment. “So it’s all scanners and imagers then?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Amazing,” she said, shaking her head. “And please, just call me ‘Doctor.’ I’m much better at that than being a ‘ma’am’. May I call you Jon?”

  “Why, yes. Please.”

  “I take it that although you didn’t have Nyxian doctors on your motherworld, you are familiar with how we work, aren’t you? You should have been exposed to some of our medical techniques in Basic.”

  “Yes, Doctor, somewhat,” he answered. “There was a Nyxian physician on Hella’s World, but she was only there to supervise my physicals. All of the care I received was from her assistants, and I really didn’t deal with her directly.”

  Elle’Kaari frowned. “I’m afraid that the medicine in Basic is something of an assembly line out of necessity. Here on the Athena though, with a resident crew, it’s a little bit more in depth and personal.’

  “Jon, I’ll get straight to the point. The reason I asked you to come here today isn’t for a routine physical. I have your chart, and when I read it, I saw that you were up to date before your transfer.’

  “What I really wanted, was the chance to study you. As you know, we don’t have any other neomen aboard, and there aren’t that many in the Star Service for that matter. Your physiology is unique, and if you’ll let me study it, it could provide some valuable information. That’s not an order, by the way, just a request.”

  Jon was surprised by this, and pleased. By the insignia on her breast pocket, he knew that Elle’Kaari was a Captain, and could have simply commanded his obedience. But she hadn’t. She had actually asked him, one person to another, for a favor. There was really no question in his mind what his response had to be.

  “Certainly,” he said. “I’d be more than happy to help you, Doctor.”

  Elle’Kaari beamed. “Thank you, Jon! I was hoping that you’d want to work with me. Can we get started right away? Or is there something else that you need to take care of today?”

  Jon shook his head. Other than pure shess work, courtesy of Troop Leader Da’Saana, there wasn’t. “Nothing that I know of, Doctor.”

  “Wonderful! Then let’s get started,” she said. “Please, let me see your inocular. I know that you had all your shots when you reported aboard, but I am still required to double-check. Then we can take a look at more interesting things.”

  Over the next hour, she subjected him to every conceivable medical test. Although some parts of it were embarrassingly intimate, she kept the mood light by describing Nyx to him.

  Eventually, the conversation came around to the subject that had been in the back of his mind the entire time; Nyxian medical techniques. Although Jon considered himself a member of the modern Church, and didn’t view the Nyxians as infernal beings in league with the Adversary, he had felt a little uneasy. But so far the exam had been very much like the ones he had been subjected to on New Covenant, and in Basic, and he hadn’t encountered anything even remotely mystical.

  “One beneficial side effect to our adaptation is an extremely heightened perception of the bioplasmic and bioelectrical energies in living beings,” Elle’Kaari informed him. “This sensitivity allows us to see the state of our patient’s internal structures.”

  Put in this matter of fact way, Elle’Kaari didn’t make Nyxian medicine seem any more outré than what psi’s were capable of and Jon found himself relaxing a little more.

  “You mean that you can see my life energy and make your diagnosis completely from that?”

  “No, n
ot completely,” she replied. “But the ability to see that energy helps when it is used in conjunction with more conventional testing procedures like the ones we’ve been using.” She adjusted a small instrument and held it to his arm.

  “For example, I can tell just from your bioplasmic field that you broke your left leg many years ago. The physical wound has healed, but your body has never forgotten the injury, and I can see the old break. It is 10 centimeters superior to the distal end of your tibial bone on the anterior side. A scan of the area would only serve to confirm this in greater detail, but I know it’s there.”

  Jon was stunned by her accuracy. The break had occurred when he was only twelve in a stupid hover-sled accident. He’d never even mentioned it during his induction physical.

  “What else can you see?” he asked.

  “That for all intents and purposes, you’re as healthy as an narwog. In fact, I haven’t seen someone as fit as you in a long time. Your diet back on New Covenant must have been exceptional. Please turn to your left and cough, would you?”

  Jon did so, and then it was her turn to be the listener. “Now, enough of Nyx,” Elle’Kaari said. “Can you tell me a little about your world, Jon? I’ve heard so much, and none of it that I can really trust. I’d love to hear it straight from the source--if you’d be willing.”

  “I-I’m not quite sure where to start,” Jon stammered.

  “Start with your faith,” she suggested. “What do you believe?” This was just the right question, and before he knew it, Jon had expounded most of the major points of his religion to her. Instead of being repulsed by his belief in a male God, Dr. elle’Kaari was genuinely interested in such a novel concept.

  He went on to tell her all about the Sisters that had raised him, and about their holy mission to bring men back into the world to make way for the Redeemer. He even shared his own personal quest to prove the worth of neomen in the military.