by Mark Wandrey
Pip finally gained control of himself and dropped onto a fallen column, his rifle lying forgotten at his feet. Cherise looked at Minu. Even in the dwindling light, the dark-skinned, Desert Tribe girl looked ashen as she crossed to the cook’s grisly worksite. Minu joined her, as did the others, one at a time, until they all stood next to a bloody blanket covering something. No one wanted to move the blanket, so Minu used the tip of her knife to pull it back. A second later, she moved it back over William’s staring eyes.
“I never thought…” Pip started, then couldn’t finish.
“They were eating him,” Cherise said, “like he wasn’t a person.” She looked at her friends, then turned to the side and violently heaved. Very little came up, since, unlike the Rasa, they’d eaten little food over the last couple of days.
“To them, we’re animals,” Minu said, emotionally spent. She picked up the blade used to butcher her fellow human being. Even though the Rasa weren’t the Tog, how could they be so callous? The T’Chillen had done some horrible things to humans when they’ve gotten their tentacled hands on them, but this? “Pip, has this happened before?”
“Huh?”
“Have there been other incidents where alien species in the Concordia preyed on humans or other species?” Pip looked confused, unable to take his eyes from the bloody blanket. Minu stepped over and slapped him across the face hard enough to make him gasp. “We’re Chosen, damn it, pull yourself together!”
“Sorry,” he said, stepping back and raising a hand to his burning cheek.
“Well?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but I’ll find out.”
“Good enough. All right, sweep the camp; take everything, especially any detection equipment or computers. Strip their bodies and collect their gear, then pile them here and burn them.”
“What about him?” Chester looked at the bloody blanket covering William’s remains.
She pulled a poncho from her backpack and tossed it to him. “He goes back with us. We don’t leave people behind.”
* * *
Alarms greeted Minu and her team as they stepped through the portal back on Bellatrix. Maybe arriving late or carrying a bloody poncho holding the substantially reduced remains of a dead Chosen caused them. Whatever the reason, two dozen heavily-armed Chosen appeared like magic through doors around the portal courtyard. Minu hadn’t even known those doors existed.
The Chosen verified that the new arrivals were human and stood down as a medical team arrived. Michael was in charge. He took Minu aside and questioned her quietly. The other Chosen reverently loaded William’s remains onto a gurney and took them away. She followed Michael to her debriefing. Five days would pass before she saw daylight again.
Dram quickly arrived to lead the debriefing. Other Chosen leaders, and eventually Jacob, joined him. Well into the debriefing, Jovich showed up. His familiar, strong presence helped her finish the grisly account as strongly as she’d begun it.
Back in her billet, she read the report compiled from hours of interviews with her and her surviving team members. The report included data gathered by Chosen technicians who reviewed their recorders and studied the confiscated Rasa gear. The report summed up her performance in two lines.
“Chosen Commander Minu Alma, five-star, having found herself in a completely unexpected and hostile situation on the neutral frontier world of GBX49881, handled herself with all the professionalism and calm decorum expected of a Chosen. It is thus deemed that her use of deadly force against the Rasa, considering the extremely unusual and provocative nature of the encounter, was completely justifiable, proper, and in keeping with the traditions of the Chosen, in accord with the established Rules of Engagement.”
The report sterilized the details of the mission and struck Minu as flippant. It included terms like “liquidation of alien scouts,” “cross species, sentient cannibalism,” and “inordinately high cost of the cache retrieval.” She set aside the report and stared out the small window. The weather in Steven’s Pass contrasted starkly with that on GBX49881. A thick layer of snow lay on the ground, and heavy clouds obscured the sun. The daytime temperature reached no more than ten degrees Celsius, and often plummeted to ten below in the evenings. All in all, it was a typical fall in the Cascade Mountains. The effect a single week on another world had had on her amazed her, and she wondered what the teams that went away for a year experienced. What about the ones stationed permanently off-world?
“I’ve never really known anyone who died, except my mom,” Minu said, looking at Cherise lying on her bunk, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, I didn’t know that boy in the Trials…”
“And you didn’t kill him,” Cherise answered. Minu nodded her head. “Besides, he was a waste of skin. I would have killed him and Ivan both, given half a chance.” Minu remained silent. “You need to get past that and what just happened.”
“Two people are dead because of me.”
“No, two people are dead in spite of you.” Cherise stared at her. “Minu, you’re a natural leader. You make quick decisions that are typically dead on, and you don’t let the consequences bother you until later. Like now. People follow you because they want to, not because they have to. I saw that in you more than a year ago. I told myself if I wanted to make Chosen, you’d take me there and beyond.” Minu snorted. “You didn’t bring that fight to us during the Trials, but you did what needed to be done. It’s not your fault William got himself captured and killed. It happened because he was insubordinate and a general pain in the ass. You responded in the only sensible way, and the leadership report agrees.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. Everyone agrees with you; I’m a great commander who did everything right.”
“So what’s your problem?”
“People are dead, and I was in charge. There’s no getting away from that.” Minu looked at the floor and ground her teeth.
“I’m sure your father came to the same realization years ago,” Minu jerked her head up and locked eyes with her friend, “about the time Chosen under his command started dying.”
Later, there was a much less formal assemblage. Dram and two members of the Chosen council reviewed the after-action report with her, making sure it was accurate. It was mostly a formality, which was why Minu couldn’t understand it taking place in a meeting room rather than Dram’s office. Dram did most of the talking; the others just listened and made notes.
During a lull in the questioning, she decided to jump in. “May I ask a question?”
“Certainly,” Dram replied.
“Has the cache I retrieved been evaluated?”
“Actually, yes. We’re a little mystified by the contents. The analysis continues.”
“What about the drone? Does it contain any info on my father’s whereabouts?”
“We can’t divulge that information at this point. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. One more question?”
“Why not?”
“Are there any repercussions from my encounter with the Rasa?”
Dram half grinned. “Spoken like a leader,” the man to Dram’s left said.
“There have been no official inquiries,” Dram said. “You were very thorough. Burning the bodies was an excellent touch.”
“I considered bringing them back.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I thought about the Tog…”
“Go ahead.”
“They’re a very honest species. I was afraid they’d discover the details of the Rasa team’s destruction…let’s just say plausible deniability seemed the most prudent choice.”
“The Council agrees,” another Chosen said.
Minu bowed her head, thinking about what Cherise had told her after they got back. “You make quick decisions that are typically dead on, and you don’t let the consequences bother you until later.” The idea to strip and burn the bodies had just come to her. She didn’t think it over or read about it in the manual.
Dram conti
nued. “I think we’re just about ready to wrap up. Only a couple more issues.”
“I’m ready.”
“First, you’re being assigned your own command.”
“Five-stars aren’t eligible for command.”
“That’s true,” the Chosen to Dram’s left said. He removed a box from his pocket and slid it across the polished table to Minu. She caught the box and opened it. Inside were two sets of four gold stars, one for each sleeve.
“I’m honored,” she said and immediately replaced her five-star links with the new ones. They waited patiently while she snapped them in place. She put the old five-stars in the same box and slid it back. As she made sure the stars were secure and admired the square configuration, she wondered if her promotion wasn’t premature. “What’s my command to be?”
“We are assigning you to a science team.” Minu looked at the last Chosen to speak, a man of Jovich’s age with wild, white hair and a wide smile. Two silver science stars gleamed on his sleeves.
“I’d have thought a scout team would be better for me.”
“There are those who agree with you,” the Chosen who’d handed her the stars responded. Minu tried to recall his name. “Level four commands are hard to come by, and you’ve proven you can work with science types, like Pipson.”
“Considering the staff you’ll have, I think you’ll appreciate this assignment,” the older Chosen said cryptically. Minu nodded in acquiescence.
Dram spoke again, “The last issue will be a little harder on you.” He paused for a second before proceeding. “The Tog have named Jacob First Among the Chosen.”
Minu stared at him for a while before the news hit home. “My father’s been declared dead?” He nodded. “But I’d hoped the information I found would lead to his discovery.”
“I’m afraid it only helped confirm his fate.”
“Can his body be recovered?” No one answered her. “Damn it, he’s my father!” she yelled.
“Control yourself, Chosen,” the one who’d promoted her soothed. His name was Alexander, Minu finally remembered. He was very fair-skinned, with hawk-like features that reminded her of Ivan Malovich. She knew the two blue stars on his cuffs meant he was the ranking trainer, just as she knew the two black stars on Dram’s cuffs meant he was the ranking scout. She glanced at Dram’s sleeves. He still wore two stars, but they were now gold. Promotions occurred quickly when a Chosen died. Such was the way of small organizations.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m upset.”
“It’s understandable,” Dram said. “The drone’s data was many months old, and your father has been gone more than a year. The Tog have never waited this long to promote a new First. Of course, a First has never failed to return from a mission before.”
“As the number of Chosen grow, there may come a day when the First Among the Chosen doesn’t go on missions like that,” Alexander said. Dram glanced sideways at Alexander, and Minu could see he disagreed. “The formal promotion ceremony is next Monday,” he continued. “Services for your father are Tuesday, in Tranquility, as is the tradition.”
“I understand. May I be excused from duty to attend the service?”
“Of course,” Dram said, nodding. “You haven’t been to a service before, so you might not know that all Chosen who can possibly attend will be there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re dismissed,” Dram said. Minu rose and left without another word. Once she was gone, the three men heaved sighs of relief and looked at each other. Dram stood up to leave, but Alexander spoke.
“I don’t understand the promotion,” he said slowly. Dram turned to face him.
“It wasn’t our call to make.”
“It’s my understanding this is not the first time the Tog have interfered directly on her behalf.” Alexander said.
“That’s correct.”
“A promotion at this point is highly questionable. Her marks in training were exceptional, perhaps the best I’ve ever seen, but still…”
“You already made your point in Council,” Bjorn said, brushing a wisp of white hair from his eyes and carelessly fiddling with the two silver stars on his left sleeve.
“Everyone had a chance to speak,” Dram agreed.
“The Tog refused to listen,” Alexander said, his voice tinged with the same frustration Minu had displayed moments earlier, which he’d taken exception to. “How are we to train and maintain a core of experienced, motivated, select Chosen, if the Tog step in at every key moment and override our decisions?”
“We serve at their discretion,” Dram reminded them. “You’ve all read about the early days, right after the Tog returned. When they were directly in charge, they oversaw every decision, no matter how small.”
“That was over a hundred years ago,” Alexander pointed out, “yet they still treat us like children. And waiting more than a year to pick a new First? Outrageous. Chriso has been dead all this time, and we know it.”
“That is not a concrete fact,” Bjorn said with a sigh.
“Enough of one for the Tog,” Dram said. “Alexander, we know you and Jacob are not on Minu’s side,” Alexander looked down and shrugged, “but she’s obviously a darling of the Tog, and we have to follow their lead. Chriso was the fifth leader of the Chosen, and considering all of our leadership criteria, he was the best so far. After some of the close calls he had, and the miracles he pulled off, it’s not hard to understand why many find it hard to accept that he’s really gone. Even the Tog. Maybe they see some of him in Minu and hope for a replay…”
“I don’t agree.”
“It’s not our place to agree or disagree,” Dram said darkly; “it’s our place to serve. Now, if we’re done squabbling like school children, we have a meeting with the newly-appointed First.”
“As you say,” Alexander nodded, “Second Among the Chosen.”
* * * * *
Chapter 8
September 26th, 515 AE
Sports Complex, Tranquility, Plateau Tribe
“Chriso Alma was the fifth man appointed First Among the Chosen, and by all measures, he was the best.” Jacob spoke from a podium set at one end of the main stadium in the Tranquility Sports Complex. On the field before him were nearly a thousand Chosen, seated by rank and section, highest ranking in front, lowest in the back. Diplomats, bureaucrats, soldiers, business leaders, athletes, and those lucky enough to be at the front of the line crowded the stands and stood as he spoke. “First Among the Chosen Chriso Alma served for thirty-nine years, four months, and eleven days. Today is his last recorded day of service. Twenty-seven of those years he was First. He held that position longer than any other. I can only hope to do half so well.”
Music swelled across the stadium. It was a version of “America the Beautiful” from Earth, the unofficial anthem of the Chosen. Minu, seated with her rank and section, watched from three quarters of the way back. They’d offered her a seat on the stand next to the new First, but she’d elected to sit with the other gold-starred Command Chosen.
The memorial lasted for more than two hours, as dignitary after dignitary came forward to eulogize her father and offer their take on his career as First. The most interesting was the last. Even from nearly a hundred meters away, Minu had no difficulty recognizing the bald head, slight limp, and broad shoulders of her father’s mentor and best friend, Jovich.
“A great many wonderful things have been said about the First Among the Chosen, Chriso Alma, today. I can’t add anything. I never really knew the First. I knew a young five-star named Chriso, who got through the Trials by the skin of his teeth. A boy who was disappointed when he was assigned to command instead of the more exciting scouts. A boy who logged mission after mission into the frontier, bringing back things that helped us progress toward repaying our debt to the Tog.
“Just after he earned his third star, he lost most of his team on a mission deep in the frontier. After his team was ambushed by the Mok-Tok and harassed for days, he was ab
le to bring the remnants of it home. He came into my office and tried to quit. Actually, he did quit. It took me all night, and my best bottle of mead, to convince him not to. Ironically, as I was trying to carry him back to his billet that night, a young lady named Sharon offered to lend a hand. She was a civilian contractor working for the Chosen, and she eventually became his wife.
“A few years later, he exchanged his three stars for two, and it became apparent to all that he’d soon exchange those for one. The day I traded my one star for his two was the proudest in my life. Like most past Firsts, I stayed around, making myself useful, and occasionally a nuisance. I only wore that little golden star for eleven years, and it was the heaviest damned thing I’ve ever had to wear. Most people only see the prestige, the respect, and the power a First wields. But when you wear that golden star, all you can see is the burden you must bear. As I said, I never really knew the First, but I did know the man who would become him. Knowing him enriched my life in ways I will never fully appreciate, because he is now gone.”
Jovich slumped a little and, with a huge effort, choked down the sob in his voice. “Chriso was the most unstoppable, dedicated, passionate leader the Chosen could have asked for. And he was my friend.”
Jovich left the stage, and the memorial was over. Minu watched the man lose himself in the crowd as it broke up. She’d known Jovich all her life; some of her earliest memories were of playing in his lap. He’d brought her a well-worn tablet with colorful designs she could manipulate with her chubby little fingers. All those years and experiences, and she’d never known he’d once been First Among the Chosen. It was a secret he’d chosen not to share with her. He only wore three stars on his collar now. “I guess I always thought he never had any ambition,” she said quietly, as the crowd milled toward the exits. “I guess I should ask myself why I don’t know the names of all the previous Firsts.” She knew why. There were no storied monuments dedicated to them, just single lines on a granite wall listing all those who’d served. You’d have to search through thousands of names and pick out those with only one star to identify who’d been First. Many would soon forget the name Chriso as Jacob took over.
