Glory Boy

by Rick Partlow

  Alexander Chen was even taller than his son, nearly two meters, with jet black hair worn long, a soft, rounded face and gentle eyes; his wife Alandra was a petit woman with fiery red hair that didn't seem to fit her Asian features. I didn't think it was artificially colored: she wasn't the flashy type, preferring plain clothes and a simple life quite like that espoused by the Church. I knew people on Earth sometimes tinkered with the genes of their unborn children and I wondered if her parents had foisted the hair color on her as some sort of fashion statement. Earth people did strange things sometimes.

  Jason had one arm around his mom's shoulders, his other hand filled with a small suitcase. His only other luggage that I could see was a backpack he was wearing. It wasn't much to take when you didn't know if you were ever coming back.

  The brisk wind blew strands of black hair over his face, but I could tell he'd been crying.

  "Hey," I said quietly, stepping up to them.

  "Hello, Caleb," Mrs. Chen said, trying to smile through her obvious emotional distress. Her husband echoed the greeting, even more subdued, speaking so softly I could hardly hear him.

  "Glad you made it," Jason said with a nod, wiping his eyes on his shoulder before he let go of his mother and offered me a hand.

  I took it, then blushed a little when he pulled me into a hug. My family was never much for hugs, except for Mom, but I patted him on the back dutifully before he let go.

  "I can't believe it's happening this fast!" I said, shaking my head. "I thought you'd have more warning."

  "The ships come when the ships come," he reasoned, shrugging. "This is my only chance this month, and if I wait for the next scheduled stop, I'll have to sit around Inferno for weeks waiting for the next training class to start."

  "That would be so bad?" His mother asked, tugging at his arm.

  "You'll try to keep in touch, right?" I asked him. "Let me know how things are going?"

  "I can send messages through my parents," he said. "Which reminds me, this came for you today." Jason pulled out his 'link and handed it to me.

  I felt a moment's confusion as I looked at the screen until I realized the only message it could be. It was from the Commonwealth Service Academy, and they'd sent it to his parents' address because I didn't have a connection to the Instell ComSat. My hand trembled as I tried to punch in my security code to unlock the message.

  The type was tiny on the screen, but to me it seemed as if it were twenty meters tall.

  Caleb Mitchell, Commonwealth ID #14789495939209, you have earned acceptance into the Commonwealth Service Academy at Colorado Springs, Rocky Mountain District, North America, Class #2690878, beginning September 6, 2253. You will be provided transportation from the Harristown spaceport to the Commonwealth-chartered cargo vessel Rebecca leaving from the port at exactly 2100 hours local time on August 1, 2253. If you do not arrive at McAuliffe station when the Rebecca docks with her on or before August 15, 2253, it will be assumed that you have declined admission into the Academy and you will not be considered again.

  "Holy shit," I murmured, then looked apologetically at Jason's parents. They seemed not to have notice, or maybe they were just being polite. "I got in."

  "I told you that you would," Jason reminded me. He took the 'link back, read the display briefly, and tapped a control. I heard the tone on my own device that told me he'd transferred the message into it; he hadn't been able to do it until I unlocked the encryption. "You're supposed to leave on next month's ship. What are you gonna' do?"

  "I don't know," I said, waving it off. "I'll worry about that later."

  There was a hum somewhere above us, gradually growing louder, and I turned to see the hopper coming in over the trees. The ducted-fan helicopter looked like a patchwork quilt where bits of it had been repaired and replaced over the decades, but it still chugged along twice a day. As it descended, it kicked up a cloud of dust and debris and we all had to shield our eyes from it.

  "No!" Jason's loud insistence was audible over the beat of the blades and the hum of the motors. I glanced out at him from under my bladed hand and saw a fierce glare on his face. "If I leave here and you haven't committed to go," he enunciated, "I know you; you'll let your dad and your brother get in your head and you won't do it. I want a decision before I get on that hopper!"

  "I can't just make a decision right here and now!" I yelled back, blinking at a bit of grass that tried to get into my eye. "I don't know!"

  "Then say no," he insisted. "Don't do it...but don't do it because you don't want to do it, not because you think your dad would disapprove! Make up your own mind, Cal. If you love this place so much, you need to decide if it's worth fighting for."

  I hesitated, my head swimming, and he looked back at the old hopper as it settled down on its landing gear, dust billowing out from beneath it as the blades spun down. The canopy popped open and I saw Cathy Glennon lounging in the pilot's seat, chewing on a piece of straw, her ratty coveralls looking even more greasy than usual.

  "You it, son?" she asked Jason, looking around. "Or are all of y'all coming?"

  "Just me," he told her, walking over and tossing his bags in the back, behind the passengers' seats. "Give me a minute, okay?"

  "I'll give you five, kid," she told him, grinning lopsidedly. "Then I'm taking off. Got a hot date."

  Jason said his final goodbyes to his parents and I turned away politely and tried not to listen. And I thought about what he'd said. Could I make a decision now? Or would I just tell him what he wanted to hear? No, I couldn't do that. Jason was too good a friend; he deserved better than that.

  I should have been thinking about this the last two weeks, but there'd just been so much work to do... And honestly, I'd been trying not to remember I'd actually applied. It had been nuts; it still was nuts. I'd be throwing away everything I believed in.

  No, I corrected myself, I'd be throwing away everything my father believed in.

  What did I believe in? That was the question I should have been asking, and not just the last two weeks. We were Friends: we didn't believe in war. The Book of Life was clear about it, according to my dad and the other Church Elders. Thou shalt not kill. Of course, the Book of Life also said "A time to kill and a time to heal. A time of war and a time of peace." "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." But also "vengeance is mine, I shall repay, sayeth the Lord." How the hell did you resolve all those together in a way that made any sense?

  "Cal," Jason interrupted my reverie with a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see him swiping hair and maybe some tears out of his eyes, standing there by the hopper with an air of finality to everything. Shit, I hated this. "I have to go."

  "Me too," I told him, realizing the decision even as I said the words. "I'm going to the Academy, Jase."

  A broad smile erased the glum expression from his face for a moment. "You're doing the right thing, Cal."

  "Maybe I'll see you out there, somewhere," I said, grasping his hand tightly. I felt a lump in my throat, feeling like I wasn't just saying goodbye to Jase; I was saying goodbye to everything I'd ever known.

  "Good luck," he said, letting go of my hand and climbing into the hopper behind the pilot.

  "Go with God, Jase," I told him.

  He grinned at the thought, and then the canopy closed and the fans spun up, and in less than a minute, he and the hopper were gone from sight. I stared for a moment into the purple sky where they'd been before I felt Mrs. Chen's hand on my shoulder.

  "He'll be okay, Caleb," she assured me...or maybe herself.

  "So will you, son," Jason's father said, smiling warmly. "I always wanted to tell you: thank you for being Jason's friend when he needed it. It wasn't easy on him coming here."

  I let out a long, hissing breath, the lump still there. "Nothing is ever going to be the same as it was, Mr. Chen," I said to him.

  "No, it won't," he agreed. "You understand that now, when others don't. But they'll all understand it in time."

  Alandra Chen's comment was
so soft I almost missed it. "Maybe when it's too late."

  Chapter Five

  Dad didn't look up when I entered the house, just kept reading from the Book of Life as everyone else listened intently. I paused by the front door to pull off my boots and Mom glanced over to me, smiling slightly, her long, brown hair intricately arranged under her scarf, her blue eyes shining even in the dim light of the Light of Peace burning on the altar. Abigail knelt next to her on the padded bench, taller than Mom now at only fifteen, and close enough in looks to be her sister instead of her oldest daughter. Leah looked more like dad, but at seven, still small enough for that to be cute instead of intimidating.

  The men in the family were on the other side of the altar, with Isaac at one end and Pete on the other and a gaping hole on the bench where I should have been. Isaac glared me into my spot and I knelt carefully between them, bringing my hands together and looking up to where Dad was still reading.

  "Then Jesus said to him," Dad read from Matthew, “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword."

  Oh, great. Dad was being topical. Usually, that meant he would make vague, scriptural references to whatever peccadillo one of the Church Elders had gotten themselves into, but this time he was branching out, probably as a point to me.

  "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God," he went on. "Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.'" He looked up from the pages of the physical book, the only physical copy we had of any book. I don't think I'd ever seen another physical copy of any book, actually.

  "These passages," he went on, eyes fixing on mine, "deal with how our Lord wants us to handle conflicts. He does not want us, as His people, to take vengeance into our own hands, but to allow Him, in His mercy and wisdom, to handle such matters."

  "Amen," Isaac intoned, and I had to fight to keep from rolling my eyes.

  "I know you may feel alarmed or frightened by what is happening among the reaches of the colonies of the unbelievers, but the Bible states, 'And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.' This tells us that we need not worry about the wars of men, but the judgment of God. God will protect us from all harm as long as we follow His ways."

  "What's a war, Daddy?" Leah asked, too young to know, or care about the etiquette of the family altar. Mom gave her a fond hug.

  "Well, Peanut," Dad explained, smiling at her indulgently, "war is when two different groups want the same thing, but instead of talking about how to work it out, they fight each other instead."

  "Like when Pete and I want the same toy?" She asked, her expression lighting up as she thought she understood. I had to smile, despite everything. She was a little angel.

  "It's bigger than that honey," Mom said to her. "If it's just two people, it's an argument or a fight. But when it's two different planets full of people fighting each other, it's a war."

  Leah's eyes narrowed and her forehead scrunched up considering that idea.

  "Dad," Pete asked, emboldened by his little sister's questions, "what if the Tahni did come here? Are we not supposed to fight them?"

  Pete was a rough and tumble kid, and I knew he'd had dust-ups with other local boys, so I was sure he had every ten-year old's innate righteous indignation at letting an injury go unavenged.

  Dad seemed a bit uncomfortable with the question, perhaps because of the violation of the tradition of the Family Altar ceremony; questions were supposed to wait until the scripture reading was over. But he soldiered on, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "I don't think there's much chance they'll come here, Peter," he said finally. "But if they do, then our duty as followers of the Lord and as Friends is to find a way to deal with them peacefully. We are not to offer any man violence for violence."

  "They're not men though, are they?" Pete wondered. "Is it the same when it's not humans?"

  "They're sentient beings, son," Dad told him. "That means they think, and reason and have feelings. We aren't God, and we can't take his power of life and death in our own hands."

  My jaws hurt from clenching them, but I made myself stay silent. I guess I wasn't very good at keeping my feelings off my face though.

  "You don't agree, Caleb?" Dad asked me. Well, it was more of a statement, but it was formed like a question and I couldn't help but answer honestly.

  "I know you're right, that this is what the Friends believe, sir," I said carefully. "But I've read the Book of Life a lot and there are other parts that look to me like they say something different."

  "You mean in the Old Testament," he assumed, "when the Israelites fought for their land with the tribes in Canaan. But God told them to go to war, and led them Himself. Things changed when Jesus came into our reality and gave us a new message..."

  "Yes, sir," I interrupted quickly, not wanting to get sidetracked, "I understand that. But there's something in the New Testament I don't understand then. Romans says..." I hesitated, standing and motioning to the Book of Life. Dad handed it to me and I leafed through it till I reached the passage. The flickering light of the candle made it harder to read, but once I saw the first few words, I remembered it.

  I quoted it to him, "Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore, whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer."

  I looked up and handed the book back to him and I could see the thoughtful frown under his beard. "It looks to me," I continued, "like it's telling us that the government has the authority to do things like declare war, and that we should be good citizens when it comes to following the laws and requirements of our government."

  He started to form an answer, but I kept on. "Also, in Luke, some soldiers come to John the Baptist and ask him how to show their repentance. He tells them to be content with their wages and not extort money, but he doesn't say anything about leaving the army, or not fighting." I shrugged. "I know what our Church says, but to me it seems like we're being told not to kill people or take vengeance as private individuals. It seems like it's saying that the government has the right to punish evil, and that we need to do our part to help when it does."

  I stopped, blowing out a breath. I'd done it now. I felt a hollow in the pit of my stomach, but Dad didn't seem to be angry. Instead, he seemed to be deliberating behind his eyes how to best answer the question. Unfortunately, Isaac beat him to it, with his usual lack of consideration.

  "You're twisting the Book," he accused me, impatience and annoyance in his voice, "because you want to justify your unbeliever friend joining the military."

  I glared into his horse-face and pretentious handlebar mustache and felt like putting my fist into it. "I don't need to justify anything!" I snapped. "Jason isn't bound by our beliefs and he makes his own decisions. Leave him out of this if you know what's good for you."

  Isaac jumped to his feet, hands balling into fists, his face only a few centimeters from mine. "If you think you're man enough to make me, little brother, you're welcome to try."

  "You two stop it!" Mom shouted, coming to her feet and stepping between us.

  "This is not how we act at the Altar," Dad said severely, face shadowed with the Lig
ht of Peace behind him. "I'm ashamed of you two."

  "I apologize, sir," Isaac said, looking away from me, bowing his head to Dad.

  "Sorry I got angry," I ground out, not meaning it for one moment.

  "All right," Dad said, as if nothing had happened. "Now, Caleb," he turned back to me, "your questions are legitimate, but the Church has chosen how to interpret those passages, and our house follows the teachings of the Church. We've chosen to do this because of the devastation that war has left behind it."

  He stepped closer to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "My father was old enough to remember the war between the Chinese and the Russians that devastated half the Earth. People thought it was the end of everything, that man had finally managed to destroy himself. We were only saved by divine providence, by the discovery of the map to the wormhole jumpgates. It gave us resources and room, and it gave the Church this paradise where we could live separate from the sort of people who started the war. It gave us a home far away from the first war with the Tahni, and it will protect us now because the Lord provided it for us so that we could more perfectly follow His word.

  "You have to have faith, son."

  "Yes, sir," I said without conviction, looking down. I wanted to argue more, but I couldn't think straight, and I had a sense that it wouldn't do any good. He wasn't interested in debate; this was something he believed and he expected me to believe it too, like it was genetic.

  But I didn't believe it. Not anymore.

  ***

  I felt the rough surface of the buildfoam grind into my back through the fabric of my shirt as Rachel pushed me against it, arms around my neck, our lips locked together. I'd come to her house after everyone else went to bed, the first time I'd been able to get away for the last two weeks. I was too keyed up to sleep anyway, and she'd been very happy to see me.