"Yes. But we are going to do it anyway. Hopefully with the proper training."
"Is that what you wanted to ask me?"
"Yes. How should we proceed?"
"You could get the proper training by joining the ConFree Legion. But then you have to do what the Legion tells you to do, not what you want to do. You don't get to choose your assignments. And even if you get your training some other way, the Brights are wiping out pirates and slavers so fast they may become extinct by the time your training is over."
"I very much doubt that. We're going to do this. With or without training. We will have our revenge. Even if it kills us. They've killed us already, you see. So we don't care."
"I will help you, Annie. I don't know how yet, but I will help you and your sisters."
"We thank you, sir. You don't know how much this means to us."
"Actually, I do."
Δ
Bees was strolling through a cool mist, her mind wandering. She had left Doggie and Blackie surrounded by human girls and angels who were delighted with Blackie. It was bright – a sparkling phosphorescent dew, swirling gently around her. Above, a glowing sheet of white clouds. She was in a soft clinging dark uniform – on her left chest the Bright White Hand and the Delta Research seal were both emblazoned. Yes, that's me, she thought. They both give me life.
A figure appeared out of the mist. It was a Bright, in full armor, radiating light like a star. He had a Battlestorm lightning rod slung over his shoulder, and the White Hand on his armor. His helmet was clipped to his waist. He was young but old. He had silver hair and silver eyes. He appeared very serious. Bees stopped before him. Oh my God! This is my vision, Bees thought.
What do you seek? the Bright thought.
I seek the truth, Bees responded.
So do we all, the Bright responded. And what will you do with the truth, should you find it?
I will use it to help my people.
Or to help yourself?
No. I am nothing. I am an instrument. I seek the truth. I seek God.
Do not seek God. If you are worthy, God will seek you.
Bees was paralyzed with emotion. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. The Bright approached her. He cupped her head with his hands, without touching her. A peaceful, warm wave swept through her mind and body. Peace and love, she thought.
You are a knight, the Bright thought.
I am just a soldier, Bees thought. Not a knight.
You are a knight. I see it. You are a warrior. Knights make themselves. Then they are recognized by God. You are a knight, in God's army. No one can stand before you. You shall lead your people to victory, over Satan. Kneel before God!
Bees fell to her knees before the Bright. His battle rifle transformed itself into a long, glittering silver sword. He touched her with the blade – tapping her on the right shoulder, left shoulder, head.
Be thou a knight, the Bright telepathed, in the name of God, of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. You cry. Tears of joy, for God. Arise, Sir Knight. You have been chosen by God. Your war name is Black Angel. Go forth and defend the faith and protect the innocent and fight the evil.
He slowly faded away, into the mist, as Bees watched in stunned fascination. A second Bright approached her. This was a female, surely an angel, long lovely golden hair, golden eyes, pale alabaster skin, clad in a white robe. She reached out her hands to Bees, cupping her head without touching it. Again, Bees felt a warm wave, the love rushing through her body, through her soul.
You are a healer, the angel thought.
I am a medic. I heal the wounded.
Take my hands, the angel thought, holding out her hands. Bees grasped them. It was like an electric shock, coursing, pulsing through her body.
"Oh!" Bees cried out.
Peace, peace, the angel thought. Now you are a healer. She leaned in and kissed Bees gently, right on the lips. Thanks be to God, the angel thought. And she too faded away.
Bees continued walking slowly into the mist. Then the mist lifted, and it was night. She looked up and the sky was completely clear, millions of stars blazing brightly. What a stunning sight. The Milky Way – her own glorious galaxy. Swirling in frozen splendor, so magnificent she just stood there staring at the cosmos. This is the face of God, she thought. She tried to spot some familiar constellations, but could not. Not a one. Bees knew the stars. We must be very far away in spacetime, she thought. Look at that. How sublimely lovely. A warm thrill ran over her flesh.
PART IV
SAINTS AND SOLDIERS
Chapter 11
Dispatches to Deadman
"So you can do it?" the Prof asked Bird. I was with them, listening to the Prof at work. We were in the snack bar of the Vampire, on the long star run home.
"Sure. Easy," Bird replied. "We import calansi from Stormhaven, and export dox to them. Initially it's pure trade – dox for calansi. Later we can get a bit more imaginative, once it becomes clear what else we need, what else they need, and what's the best way to pay for it."
"I have full authority to do whatever cements a ConFree-Bright alliance," Prof said, "so this is the first step. And nobody is going to question it. And, as our cover company, Matheson Engineering is the logical party to do this. Later on we'll have to deal with the question of profits generated from official business, but for now we won't."
"Certainly. We'll purchase the dox from any source we want, and set up a trading company to handle the imports of calansi. And do distribution, advertising and, eventually, production, once we learn how to reproduce it chemically or grow our own."
"And for all that, you'll need help. People to run the company and so forth."
"Not really. But if you want us to hire some new people, we can certainly do that."
"The business will earn you good money, right?"
"Eventually. If ConFree is paying for the transport to Stormhaven, that will help out a great deal."
"And, eventually, you can use that money to pay for new staff."
"Sure."
"Like the Sisters. As many as you can keep busy."
"Sure."
"I'd like them to get a good percentage of sales."
"We can work it out."
"But I want them busy. Working. Not just sitting back while the money rolls in."
"We can keep them busy. We can keep them motivated."
"The plan is to keep them so busy they eventually forget their suicidal anti-slavery crusade. I've got more ideas for them. But this will be the beginning."
"You're a good man, Prof. A good man."
"I just try to do the right thing. That's all."
Δ
Calling White Knights. This is the Confederation of Free Worlds, calling the White Knights. Ice was on the DX neural comset, in the commo center of the CS Vampire. All four of us prophets were there, huddled around the table, and the Prof was standing. There was no need for earsets on this unit. Just speak into the unit, and telepath, and hope somebody answers. We were in stardrive but it was a Q-link unit and it worked everywhere.
Confederation, this is White Knights. We receive your transmission clearly.
White Knights, that is wonderful! This is Ice, may I connect with Martial Breakblade?
Stand by, Ice. We were all grinning. Contact! All right! Breakblade had told us establishing a ConFree Embassy on Stormhaven was impractical, at least at present. But he had said he had decided he was authorized to establish a liaison office on Quaba, while seeking official permission from his government for a later full-fledged diplomatic relationship with ConFree. We were pleased to hear it.
Confederation, this is Breakblade. Greetings.
Greetings, Breakblade, This is Ice. The Learned One greets you in friendship and thanks you for your hospitality to us and to the girls. And the girls, too, express their thanks for your friendship and hospitality.
Our thanks for those sentiments. The communication unit appears to be working well.
Yes. Th
e Learned One asks when we may expect your initial embassy staff to arrive in Quaba.
Liaison office – not embassy. Otherwise I get in trouble.
Of course, sorry. Liaison office.
It will be soon. I will notify you in advance. Once we arrive there, our staff will need your assistance in communicating with the locals. And in setting up our emb…uh, liaison office.
We will assist you. And we will teach you our vocal language.
Good. How is the Learned One doing in his progression to thinking being status?
He is only beginning. Once we arrive home we will intensify his training.
Δ
"Rags, Snax, Cats, please be seated," Prof said. They joined Doggie and me at the table with Prof. We were again in the Vampire's snack bar. Raggedy Ann's warname had somehow morphed into Rags, her blonde confederate had been dubbed Snax because she was seldom seen without nibbling on some kind of snack to sustain her, and the Assidic honey was Cats because she had a thing about cats, and images of cats decorated her bureau.
"Thank you, Professor. Oh! Dox! I love it!" They popped open their cups. We kept them well supplied with dox. We had left most of it on Stormhaven to motivate the Brights but still had enough for the voyage home.
"So," Prof said. "The business proposal interests you? Dox for calansi – and the Sisters will be handling the business, under guidance from Matheson Engineering."
"It sounds just wonderful," Rags declared.
"Of course, everyone who wants to can go home. But those who want to continue in the Sisters will either stay in Quaba or return there after seeing their families."
"You are so kind."
"I'm worried about you young ladies. I want you to have something to live for besides avenging yourselves upon your enemies."
"And what about that part? You promised you could help us with training."
"And I keep my promises. But before we even begin that process I wish to assure you are all contributing to society, earning decent incomes and doing meaningful work. There will be other work opportunities available on Quaba for the Sisters. The Brights will be opening up a liaison office in Quaba City fairly soon. I don't know yet how many of them there will be, but I have been assured that they will all be required to learn our language, Inter. As you know, they don't speak because they no longer find it necessary. But to function on Quaba they will need to speak. So we need teachers to teach them. There's no physical reason they cannot learn to speak. I know you all love the Brights, and you are all certainly qualified to teach grade-school Inter to the Brights. In that capacity you will be working directly for me – under contract to Delta Research. So, talk to the girls and get me a list of everyone who may be interested, please."
Snax pulled a lollipop out of her mouth abruptly. "This is just wonderful, Professor," she said. "We are very grateful and it sounds like great fun. But when does our military training begin?"
The Prof smiled. "I knew you would ask that, and that's why I asked Doggie to attend our meeting." Doggie smiled at the girls. It was kind of a scary smile. "In my opinion, Doggie is the best drill instructor in the Legion. He trained us all. And we are all first-class killers. Doggie is going to be instructing you all, once we decide the time is right. It may not be for awhile, but he'll be waiting for you when that time comes. You won't even have to join the Legion. This will be private instruction, and you will pay for it with funds you earn from your employment." The girls were looking Doggie over carefully.
"What will you teach us?" Cat asked.
"Everything," Doggie said, with his best gravelly voice. "And when I get through with you, you'll look back on it as a near-death experience. But by then you will be the baddest band of bitches in the galaxy. And you will be fully qualified to take pirates and slavers head-on and kill them all."
Δ
"Flash crash. Now!" The announcement came over the base speaker system as well as the tacnet. We charged over to the Prof's office, adrenalin churning. What could it be? We had only just arrived back home on Quaba and had barely had time to say hello to wives and husbands. We were showing all the girls to their temporary quarters, and now this. WTH, over.
Nan the Man was standing beside the Prof with a little datacard. He waved it at the nearest wall screen and the screen filled up with light. By that time it looked like all of Delta was there. On screen, a scruffy male Earther in a dirty sweater was looking into the camera.
"Greetings, citizens. This is your official news agency, Truth and Light, broadcasting live from Aztlan City, New Aztlan. As promised we now go to the Rainbow House in District Montezuma, New Aztlan. The President of New Aztlan has an urgent order for all citizens." The screen flickered and switched to a view of an unshaven young Earther with long, dirty hair, clad in a worn green field coat.
"Greetings, fellow citizens," the President began. "As you know our people's revolution is under attack by enemies both external and internal. In recent months our external enemies have been attacking both the dinosaur UMC and Revolutionary Aztlan on Terra. You have seen the results of the diabolical and merciless attacks on our citizens by the alien horde from Bright Haven." The screen switched to a montage of bloody massacre scenes, showing the grisly results of the Bright attacks on the slavers. Then the view switched back to the President.
"These attacks are unspeakable in their ferocity and unbelievable in their malevolence. Innocent men, women, transies, and children are all massacred in cold blood. The dinosaur UMC appears to be terrified by these events and is doing its best to ignore them. Meantime, the traitors in our midst are taking advantage of these tragic events by redoubling their counter-revolutionary efforts to overthrow the people's will and government. We continue to urge all good citizens to report to the government any anti-government statements or activity.
"Citizens, we stand boldly in your defense. These attacks cannot be allowed to continue without a firm response. Therefore, as authorized by our People's Emergency Committee, I hereby declare, per Executive Decree Number 1477, that a state of war shall hereinafter exist between the Revolutionary Government of New Aztlan, New Terra, and the alien horde from Bright Haven. We decree that the entire resources of New Terra shall be dedicated to the national goal of victory over the alien horde and that the national war effort shall continue until that goal has been achieved.
"Citizens! We call on all patriotic New Aztlan citizens to join in our war effort. Our People's Militia is open to all. Please do your public duty, report all traitors, and volunteer for service in the militia to repel these bloodthirsty alien barbarians from our sacred vac."
Nan killed the broadcast and stood there glumly. "This is exactly what I was afraid of," he said. "They have no intention of going to war with the Brights, of course, but they are using this opportunity to rally support from the public by declaring war against a scary alien enemy and cementing a totalitarian grip on the people. Things were getting so bad economically that they were about to be overthrown by their own PJ gangs, but the declaration of war will give them a few more years of power, and possibly a lifetime dictatorship. The trouble is, we have no idea how the Brights will react to this. Maybe they won't even care, or maybe they will become enraged. Who knows?"
"Any news on the invasion?"
"It’s impossible to tell how this will affect the UMC's plans to invade and secure Terra. If it was up to me, I'd do it right away. But it's not up to me."
Δ
It was wonderful to be back in Quaba, back in Delta Research, back with Honeyhair, my obsession. My heart sped up whenever I saw her. We merged, heart against heart, and lost ourselves in burning love. She cried for joy. I tried to resist that, but it was hard. I knew God had laid his hands on me, and her. I had never been religious before, but Bees was teaching me, slowly and patiently, one soul-searing incident at a time. Somebody was sure as hell watching over me. God, Deadman, the Brights, I didn't know who or what. But I had certainly been transformed. I guess we all were – all of Squad De
lta.
We had no time for relaxing. We were very busy with all those girls, all those shattered souls. There was plenty to do before sending them back to their families. We had to ID them thoroughly, give them in-depth physical and mental exams at Quaba General Hospital, debrief them in detail on their experiences as sex slaves, and extract and organize all actionable information. They knew a lot. Plenty of slavers were going to die, sooner or later, based on that information. We weren't taking notes for the record. We were making lists of people we were going to kill.
Honeyhair and Blondie were put in charge of the girls. They had plenty of medical and psychiatric help, but they were in charge. Their mission was to make the girls happy until it was time to ship them out. They did a terrific job of that.
Most of the girls wanted to make initial contact with their families – usually it was Mom and Dad and brothers and sisters. The best way to do that was often through the ConFree Embassy on the world in question. We'd set up a visual Q-link to the Embassy and they'd call the family in, saying only that it was about their missing daughter. Once the family was there, in the Embassy, properly ID'd, the girl would appear on-screen.
I watched the first of those Q-link reunions, and I swear I had to leave the room. It was so powerful it was hardly bearable.
That's what the Legion does. We bring people back from the dead. Talk about meaningful employment. Honeyhair and Blondie felt their entire existence was validated through that work.
Δ
Bird and Mary were married 385/5/10 in Delta Research's rec park one fine evening. The park was blazing with pink lights and set up for a big marriage feast to follow the ceremony.
The Prof was the best man, Ice and Bees were the maids of honor, and Mary was stunning in Ice's beautiful snow princess wedding dress. Somebody told Ice and Bees they couldn't be maids of honor because they were already married so the correct term was matrons of honor. Ice said anybody who called her a matron was going to get punched in the nose, so it was concluded they would be maids of honor despite their marital status.
Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Page 23
