Sisterhood of Suns: Daughters of Eve

by Martin Schiller

  What was not normal, and what caught her attention, was the traffic around them, or rather, the lack of it. Invariably, there were always groups of admirers and on-lookers to greet her along the way to her destination, no matter how secret her visit was supposed to be. Somehow, word always got out that she was coming and her fans were always there to greet her.

  Here, however, the street was largely empty. Only a few ‘lectris passed them, and the sidewalks were devoid of pedestrians. She found the stillness eerie, and disturbing.

  Shortly after this, the caravan slowed, and abruptly changed course, leaving the broad boulevard for a side street. They were deviating from their route for some reason, Celina realized.

  Looking out her window for the cause, she saw a policeman waving them on. Behind him, she spotted a pair of hovertanks, and several more military hovertrucks parked across the boulevard, blocking traffic. Beyond this, was a large group of Sisterhood Marines accompanied by what she assumed were local military personnel.

  They were guarding a group of civilians. The prisoners were on their knees with their hands atop their heads, facing the wall of a sizable building. A slogan had been painted on the wall itself, and two soldiers were hastily covering it over with large plastic tarps. She was still able to read it though.

  The message had been painted in letters large enough to see from the street, and in Standard. It proclaimed, “Death to the Sisterhood Invaders!”

  Before she could make any sense of this, the limo turned away and the scene was hidden by the buildings around them.

  “What was that back there?” she asked the Embassy woman. “Why were those people under arrest? And what was that slogan they painted on the wall?”

  “Just some local criminals,” T’Saryanna answered nonchalantly. “Since the war, there’s been a sharp rise in crime in the capitol. I’m sure you’ve heard about that. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Celina nodded, pretending to accept this blatant lie, and considered what she had just witnessed.

  Invaders? she wondered. Us? We’ve been helping these people. We freed them from a corrupt government! We saved them from the goddess-damned Hriss! Why would they want to kill us? It made no sense whatsoever.

  Unless, she thought, something else is going on here. Something bad.

  Their arrival at the Àuro Agwuila temporarily forced this dark line of thought to the back of her mind. The hotel was located in the fashionable downtown area, and not far from the Embassy itself. The Manager greeted her personally at the front entrance, and she was quickly ensconced in their best suite on the top floor.

  It took her a few minutes to accept the idea that the lights didn’t operate by psiever and that the bathroom fixtures used knobs and levers to coax anything out of them, but otherwise, the accommodations were quite serviceable. Even comfortable.

  Although the concert at Claire d’Layne wasn’t scheduled for another Standard week, Celina still wanted to inspect the venue and get in some rehearsal time beforehand. Given the lateness of her arrival, and the need to coordinate with the bases’ Activity Officers, T’Saryanna agreed to come back for her in the morning. This left Celina with the unexpected luxury of having some free time for herself.

  She took full advantage of it, and as soon as the staffer had departed, she and Clio got to work editing her Sisterhood realie footage. She soon became so engrossed in this that she forgot to order her dinner from room service---until her virtual partner took the initiative and requested it for her. Protests notwithstanding, Clio also made certain that they didn’t resume their work until Celina had properly fed herself. She was even persuaded to go to bed at a half-way reasonable hour, and the next morning, awoke fresh and ready to face the day.

  With T’Saryanna acting as her guide, she was driven out to the Sisterhood base in the Embassy hoverlimo. Once again, the ‘limo was bracketed by security vehicles that escorted her through largely empty streets. The trip itself took only a few minutes, and when they arrived at the front gate, Celina’s breath caught in her throat.

  She had seen military installations before, having performed for the troops on numerous occasions, but Claire d’Layne was unquestionably one of the largest she had ever visited. Its security measures were also far more stringent than she was used to. Despite the Embassy escort, she was still required to personally present her biochip for identity verification, and she couldn’t help but notice that none of the soldiers on guard seemed the slightest bit star struck by her presence. They were a steely-eyed bunch, and they regarded her, and everyone in her limousine, with obvious suspicion. Even the vehicle itself was thoroughly scanned by a securitybot before it was allowed to roll one centimeter beyond the massive vehicle barriers. Just the same, she put all of this behind her as they were admitted, and concentrated on the job ahead of her.

  “How is our guest list looking?” she asked. To demonstrate their solidarity with the government’s effort to create a sense of unity with the people of the ETR, her agent had taken the step of inviting several of the more famous local performers to take part in the show.

  “I’m sorry,” T’Saryanna replied regretfully. “Most of them couldn’t be included. A few had other engagements, and some didn’t pass our security screening. I hope you can work around this.”

  The amended list appeared in the limo’s cabin and Celina frowned as she read it over. Almost every local artist had been deleted. Absent the pitiful handful that remained, it was going to be a solo performance.

  “I suppose I’ll have to,” Celina said unhappily. Right away, she began to change the order of the program in her mind. With the addition of a few extra pieces, the show could still come off well, she decided. She sent a message to Clio to make the appropriate alterations.

  “Good,” T’Saryanna said. “I was afraid that there might be a problem with this. There’s also one other thing that you need to know.”

  “And that is?”

  “An officer from the local RSE detachment has asked to meet with you,” T’Saryanna informed her. “It’s a simple interview. Nothing to worry about. They do it for anyone who arrives here from the Sisterhood. Sort of a Customs thing.”

  Celina’s brows knitted in irritation. “Fine. Just as long as she doesn’t take up too much of my time. We have a lot to get in place thanks to the changes on that list.”

  The Embassy staffer waved her concern away. “Don’t worry yourself on that score, jantildam. Lieutenant sa’Tela assured me that she will only need a few minutes of your time. It’s just a formality.”

  “Fine,” Celina agreed. “Can she meet me in my dressing room? I’m going to be very busy, and she’ll need to speak with me on the move.”

  “Certainly,” T’Saryanna returned. “I know Lieutenant sa’Tela personally. She’s a very reasonable woman. She’ll certainly understand.”

  ***

  Celina’s dressing room had been created for her in a small office formerly occupied by one of the base’s senior officers, and the Marine Engineers, with the help of the Public Relations detachment, had made certain to have a proper makeup table ready and waiting. In addition, all of her costumes had been brought there, along with the assorted odds and ends that she had come to rely on.

  There were also flowers everywhere. They were local blooms, but no less beautiful for that, and reading the cards, Celina saw that most of them had come from units stationed in or around the base itself.

  “Best wishes from your fans in the 101st Armor Battalion 2nd Company, 3rd Squad,” one read. Another wished her “Good luck for the show. 87th Combat Engineers, ‘Die Spitting Kaatzen’” She had even received one from the bases’ commanding officer.

  Bending over, she inhaled the sweet scent of a nearby bouquet and then settled into her chair to set up her makeup table the way she liked it. Partway through this task, she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” she said. When she looked up, she saw a woman in a black uniform. The minute she realized who
it was, she also decided that she didn’t care for her at all. It wasn’t her somber attire, or anything outward about her appearance—in fact Kalians were an ethnic group that she liked, and admired greatly. It was something else, something indefinable that put her instantly on her guard.

  “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” Sa’Tela began. “I know that you have a great deal to do before your concert, and I appreciate the opportunity to speak with you.”

  “What is this about?” Celina asked pointedly. She wasn’t used to being questioned by the police. She wasn’t a criminal and she didn’t see why this meeting was even taking place.

  Sa’Tela smiled, as if she had heard her thoughts, and offered an explanation for her presence. “I realize that this must seem a bit much to you, but because we are in the process of pacifying the local crime problem, my office is required to interview every new civilian arrival. Unfortunately, there are some women who come to the ETR to take advantage of the situation. You can blame the glass problem they have here for that.”

  Celina’s mouth dropped in surprise and indignation. Did this woman actually think she had come here to deal drugs? She very nearly ordered her out, but then reminded herself that she was in Nuvo Bolivar as a guest of the government. The Tuluraa Daal Foundation for the Arts would not look kindly on her if she refused to cooperate with a Sisterhood official.

  Again, Sa’Tela smiled. “Naturally, I know that you are not involved in anything as sorted as that, and I don’t want to waste your valuable time. So, I’ll get straight to the point. Since arriving, have you met with anyone other than the Embassy staff, or officials from Claire d’Layne? I’m sorry, but we have to know who you interact with; some of the people here might want to exploit you for their own purposes, and not all of them are friendly.”

  “I’ve met with a lot of people,” Celina said defensively. “I don’t know everyone’s name.”

  “Of course not,” Sa’Tela agreed. “I knew that the question was unreasonable when I was told to ask it. It would be impossible to remember every stagehand or maid, and I deeply apologize.”

  “Thank you,” Celina replied. She relaxed a bit.

  “But tell me,” Sa’Tela inquired, “out of everyone, has anyone, in any position, approached you about anything that seemed—how do I put this--irregular--in nature?”

  “Irregular?”

  “Yes. Anything that seemed suspicious. I realize that you have been quite busy since your arrival, but—“

  “No,” Celina responded curtly. “No one. It’s been nothing but business.”

  “Good,” Sa’Tela said. “That’s it then. Please contact us, or the Embassy, if anyone approaches you with something that seems out of the ordinary. Until we settle things down here, we all have to remain vigilant. I’m sure that you understand.”

  “Of course,” Celina answered. She didn’t rise, but stayed in her chair, and watched the RSE woman leave.

  What in all space is going on here? she wondered. The graffiti she had seen coming in from the spaceport resurfaced in her mind. It didn’t jibe with Sa’Tela’s tale of ‘local criminals’ one nanobit.

  But it also wasn’t any of her business, she reminded herself, and the Lieutenant had a job to do, however unlikable she seemed. She promptly dismissed her misgivings and returned her attention to her dressing table and its contents. There was a show to prepare for and she didn’t need anything getting in the way of that. Not even politics.

  Aljofar District, Nuvo Bolivar, Magdala Provensa, Esteral Terrana Rapabla, 1048.10|03|03:75:05

  The raid on the toy factory managed to accomplish several important things. The first was that it facilitated the arrest of the factory’s owner when the captured data proved his links to the Loyalistas. It also provided enough evidence for the ETR’s military to look more closely at the commanding officer of the local Magdala Provensa Garda Nacia Armería, and his subordinates.

  Eventually, this led to their courts martial and increased security measures at all of the ETR’s armories. One of these was the adoption of the redundancy that the Sisterhood used. Another was stricter standards for inventory control and auditing procedures.

  Exactly as Kaly had surmised however, none of this stopped the violence, or managed to disarm the rebels. While the RSE continued to develop new leads, Kaly and her team were sent out into the field again. Team 440 had returned to the Sisterhood and left them with their Specia counterparts. They were going on what would be their first solo mission.

  The assignment was to accompany a detachment of Republican troops and Sisterhood Marines going out on a ‘hearts and minds’ mission. Their objective was not only to provide additional security for the operation, but gather any intel they could, and if possible, cultivate new informants in one of Nuvo Bolivar’s poorer suburbs. Although the Aljofar was known to be a hotbed of Loyalista sympathizers, the district also included residents who hadn’t chosen a faction, or were willing to play both sides of the conflict if they thought there was something in it for them.

  The combined force left Claire d’ Layne late in the morning in two military ‘lectri trucks, and a heavily armed hovertruck. They reached their Op zone without encountering any more resistance than some sullen looks, and a few shouted insults.

  After that, it became a matter of standing by and keeping their eyes open while the ‘Pubbies’ handed out candy to the children, and ear-buds tuned to government supported radio stations to the adults.

  Kaly found herself warming to the children, who swarmed eagerly around the soldiers. She even gave out a little candy of her own.

  She didn’t lower her defenses though. Although the Loyalistas had never attacked when children were around, and knew that the Sisterhood Troopers would never knowingly harm them either, there was always the slim chance that something terrible could still occur.

  Team 440 had also taught them something else about gatherings like this. They attracted more than just children or curious neighbors; whenever possible, the Loyalistas liked to send spies in with the crowds to gather information on the activities of their opposition. Kaly had her eye on several suspicious men, and a woman, who had arrived with the children.

  Keeping 440’s instruction in mind, she used her psiever to capture their images. Later, when they returned to base, these would be downloaded, analyzed and cataloged. On more than one occasion, this practice had led to the arrest of Loyalista insurgents when they had been matched with individuals at the scene of terrorist attacks. It was not an opportunity to be ignored.

  By noon, the detachment had managed to cover the majority of the mission area, and had given away the bulk of their gifts. The heat had also risen, driving most of the people back into their homes. Realizing that they had done all they could, the Republican commander finally called a halt to the operation.

  Team 440 had often stressed that this was the most dangerous part of a mission of this kind, and this concern were justified only five minutes later. They had re-boarded their vehicles and were heading out towards Tomas Aligaar boulevard, a major traffic artery, when the middle ‘lectri took some small arms fire from a group of apartments off to their left.

  The moment that the chatter went out on their Com, Kaly shoved Tatiana through a port in the side of her vehicle and searched for the shooter. She found him right away, crouched inside a second story room, and realized that he was one of the impassioned amateurs that made up a large segment of the Loyalista forces. The man was so inexperienced that he hadn’t even known enough to seat himself back in the shadows. So she shot him.

  More gunfire came at them from another location on the right, and the Republican Commander made the correct decision. Instead of having the detachment dismount and engage in a costly house-to-house firefight, he ordered them to withdraw. Kaly worried that he would follow this up with a request for immediate air support—and he was well within his rights to do so—but he didn’t, and the lives of dozens of innocents living all around the shooters were spared
in the process. Instead, the convoy sped away and got itself clear.

  The worst was still to come though; three blocks on, and at a point where the street narrowed, an adolescent boy ran out into the street carrying something in each hand. He threw one of these objects at the lead vehicle and Kaly involuntarily cringed, certain that it was some form of grenade. At almost the exact same time that it bounced off the armored hull, one of the Sisterhood troopers reacted, cutting him down with her Mark-7.

  It was something that she might have done herself, out of pure reflex, and she immediately felt horror, both for the boy and for the trooper. The ‘grenades’ had been nothing more than a pair of rocks, and the burst from the energy weapon had blown a fist-sized cavity straight through the boy’s chest.

  Realizing what she had just done, the trooper tried to jump out of her vehicle to help her victim. While her sisters restrained her, a woman burst out of a nearby home and ran to the body, wailing in despair. In a few seconds, a crowd of unarmed neighbors materialized, and they glared up at the soldiers with pure, undiluted hatred.

  Kaly had to look away.

  What are we even doing here? she wondered. A few pieces of candy and some cheap radios didn’t stack up against something like this. It ashamed and sickened her.

  ***

  Kaly didn’t want to go to the concert. The trooper who had shot the boy was being medicated by the Psych doctors, and word had already gotten around that she would be shipping back to the Sisterhood as soon as possible, and mustering out. The tragedy had left Kaly enshrouded in gloom, and only the good natured, but vigorous insistence of Margasdaater and Vasquaaz managed to rouse her from her bunk.

  Thanks to them, she finally rallied herself, dressed in her class ‘C’ fatigues, and went with them to the amphitheater.

  Although the technical part of Celina’s show wasn’t what it might have been back in the Sisterhood, her raw talent as a singer did the trick. Kaly soon forgot her grim frame of mind and was swept along by the performance.