She thought for a moment. Images of horses and guidon flags, tanks and personnel carriers filled her head. “Captain. And I want the cavalry.”
He laughed. “I’ll make sure that you are considered for it, but I believe that you’ll be accepted. Especially in light of recent events.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“The Greys attacked along the Outer Rim yesterday. Our forces are marshaling for operations, and your life is about to get interesting. Still want this?”
Mairin had expected the outbreak of war to have more of an effect on her, instead of instant acceptance and commitment. She nodded. “Yes, sir. When do we leave?”
He looked down at her bag and smiled. “If you’re ready, we can depart right now. The Forrestal is in orbit and preparing to debark for Earth. The Yorktown headed toward the Rim a few hours ago. With a fold generator, we’ll have a five-week journey.”
Mairin replied. “What will I do for five weeks?”
“Sleep, mainly. The first portion of your training is a more in-depth imprint and basic training. Some weapons familiarization and how to conduct planning for operations. All standard stuff, really. You’ll wake up and proceed directly to field training.” Munsen laughed. “The best drill sergeants we have are all virtual now. The best way to ensure the training is perfect.”
“We can leave whenever you want, sir.”
“No goodbyes?”
Mairin laughed. “Not here.”
Munsen nodded. “There’s one last thing we have to do. One of the things a commissioned officer holds most dear is their commission. It is a direct appointment from the Executive branch of government. The commission is for life. The oath you are about to take is similar to that, but only extends to your performance and training as a cadet. As a commissioned officer, you will be able to do this as well, commission cadets and eventually officers into the TDF. Are you ready?”
Mairin stood up straight, her imprint putting her at the position of attention. “Yes, sir.”
“Then raise your right hand, and repeat after me.” Mirroring each other in the dawning sunlight, they recited the oath of office tweaked only slightly from the original oath sworn by the officers of the Continental Army of the United States nearly five hundred years before. Munsen dropped his hand at the end, “Congratulations.”
What in the hell have I just done? Mairin tried to smile. “I’m not quite sure what to think. This has happened so quickly.”
“I think you will do well based on what I’ve seen.”
“You’ve been watching me before the whole imprint thing as well?” Mairin shook her head. “I should have known that, sir.”
And if you’ve been watching me, that means I’m more than an experiment, too. Whatever that means.
Munsen laughed, “The new part of you does know about it, and would have suspected it, and is not surprised, you mean.”
“Maybe so, sir.” Mairin chuckled. She looked around the quiet quadrangle and into the yellow sun of Eden. I’m never coming back here. And I’m okay with that.
But I have much to learn. Including just who in the hell you were, Grandpa.
She gazed into the warm morning sunlight. In for a penny, in for a pound, she told herself. Don’t look back, no matter what. And she didn’t, not even after the Forrestal pushed gently out of orbit and began to spool up its fold engine.
* * * * *
Two
“It’s been three weeks, Thom. You have an explanation for this, I presume?” On the small video screen, the Chairman reclined her chair and reached for a pack of tobacco free cigarettes without meeting Munsen’s eyes. He knew she’d be furious, but her breach of etiquette surprised him. Scientists, no matter their stature, didn’t talk to Coalition commanders in that tone.
“I fail to see where you need an explanation, Madame Chairman.”
She looked over the flickering end of her cigarette and narrowed her eyes. “Colonel, let me be perfectly clear with you. Imprinting, while technically a military procedure, falls under this directorate as my personal responsibility to the Coalition. While I report to you by the letter of the law, the care of the patients is my sole responsibility, and not yours. Are we clear?”
Munsen nodded, but said nothing as they locked eyes for a good ten seconds.
She cleared her throat. “Now. Why are you going to leave her at Libretto and not bring her to Earth, as required by regulation, for indoctrination and training under close supervision? And why did you commission her as a captain?”
“Her imprint took faster than any previous and the depth of the connection seemed worthy of self-development.”
“She should have come to Earth for that diagnosis. She could’ve gone walkabout here and been constantly monitored. Her imprint is one of the best we’ve ever seen take, but leaving her in Styrahi space, unmonitored and unaccounted for is a security risk! You’ve jeopardized this program!”
Munsen frowned. “How have I done that, Madame Chairwoman? The Styrahi worked with us to develop the encephalographic hologram readers and integrate DNA to the actual brain scan. They gave us the technology to connect the two; how can this officer’s imprint be a goddamn security risk? They helped make her!”
“Have you read the full file of her imprint? Her ancestor?”
Munsen nodded. “Nothing there that’s a security risk, either. Good soldier, a little concern with his failed marriage, but he progressed normally through the officer ranks until his death in combat. Decorated for bravery, again nothing that causes any type of concern for security, unless you aren’t telling me something.”
“The biggest concern I have is far beyond this imprint business. You’re taking an untested, barely trained officer into combat. In a division of a type that hasn’t been fielded in over a hundred years, I might add.” She smoked for a moment. “You’re convinced that she’s the right person for this operation?”
Munsen folded his hands. “From all of the imprints I’ve seen, hers has the requisite knowledge.”
The chairwoman shook her head. “If this imprint continues to integrate, it could become the most complete imprint ever done. That is a security risk because it would be a perfect integration of memories, instincts, and training from generation to generation.”
“And the Greys most likely do not have the need for such technology,” Munsen continued. “The Styrahi use imprinting frequently, and are not concerned with perfection in the passing of information. The Vemeh already work from a hive-mind. I do not get why you are protecting this woman.”
The chairwoman sighed, “Look, Colonel. We both understand that holding your cards to your vest is often the best course of action. That’s what I’m trying to do in this case.”
Munsen felt his collar tighten. Politicians. “That system worked a few hundred years ago. This world evolved beyond those petty concerns, Madame Chairman. The simple fact we now maintain classified information again could inflame the individual nations within the Terran Coalition. Wave the planetary security flag all you want, but hiding information from the Coalition will come back against our efforts. The Vemeh, Styrahi, and Tueg all demand transparency in our military matters.”
“I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but this program remains classified. I intend to protect our assets as much as possible in this conflict and beyond. The Council mandates this.”
The Terran Council. God save me. Munsen laughed. “These people were imprinted to fight this conflict, not revive a hundred-year-old dogmatic political process. They are going to war and most likely they will die protecting an Earth that many of them will never lay eyes on again. Those imprints believed in their nations and would fight to defend them. But those governments are gone. Attempting to bring them back will devolve this civilization. It was bad enough when their imprints lived and died.”
“This isn’t about America, Colonel.”
Bullshit. “Then why worry about this particular imprint so much? She’s going to a combat force and will
have a low life expectancy. Why worry about her in particular?”
The chairman smoked for a moment and met Munsen’s eyes slowly. “If her imprint characteristics can be duplicated and refined with other imprints and DNA matches, our efforts to create and deploy an effective combat force multiply by orders of magnitude. If we do that, we push the Greys out of this side of the known galaxy. That gives us the freedom to get our people out of this system.”
Munsen grunted. “There’s no reason to think that they’re coming here.”
The chairman nodded. “But we cannot be sure. This program is an effort, whether we like it or not, to continue the human species. We may have our faults and foibles, Colonel, but it’s our job to ensure there’s a human race to succeed us. Mairin Shields and the other two hundred imprints out there are a critical need. They understand what it means to fight. Look around, Colonel. A vast majority of our citizens have no concept of war. No concept of compromised security. No fear that their lives will continue. Having that fear drove us, Colonel.”
“I don’t think our imprinted soldiers have those fears,” Munsen replied. “On the contrary, I think their success hinges on the peace and coexistence of this world.” He stood slowly and straightened his uniform tunic. “Yes, we have fear, Madame Chairman, and it will drive us. But imagine what we could do if we all decided our existence as a species would be a hell of a lot easier if we gave up all of our baggage. This world is the way it is because we screwed it up the first time, and our imprints understand that and will fight not to bring back anything at all, but to keep us from screwing it all up again.” He snapped off the video and shook his head. Politicians never change.
He moved out of the room and felt a smile on his face. Too bad the nationalist bullshit is rearing up again, he thought. Still, the fact that the governments of Earth were completely aboard the program was promising. Maybe now humanity would get off its collective ass and get out of the solar system once and for all.
* * * * *
Three
The dreams started like movies and holo programs projected on a dark wall. Mairin was the only person in the theater when the movie played, and she was the star.
Late summer in the mountains of Tennessee, the sun was setting, and the air felt crisp with the coming night. Cicadas screeched, and the smell of honeysuckle surrounded the small knoll that appeared to host more weekend parties than cadet field training exercises. Everyone seemed happy, flushed, after the six-mile march into the mountains. The instructors gave them room to breathe for a change, and voices became excited and animated. Laughter rang out. They were halfway through a short field training exercise, and everyone was excited. Three more days, Mairin thought. Three more days and that shower will feel like heaven.
She’d learned how to shoot a pulse rifle well enough to qualify as an expert marksman. She’d found her way through the wilderness using only a map and compass, and they’d learned the basics of moving tactically as infantry. Everyone has to start somewhere, she thought with a grin. Might as well start with the infantry.
They’d walked in, humped they called it. Or was it rucking? Something like that. Ruck for rucksack, but it’s a backpack? She’d blinked the questions away and simply started walking. They weren’t allowed any music, so she’d hummed a song and stepped to the beat to keep up the pace with the others. After the first mile, some of her counterparts lagged behind the group. At the end of the second mile, five or six of the cadets were walking well in front of the rest. Mairin walked proudly with them. No one was leaving her behind.
The last mile was steep and winding. Her legs burned form the exertion, but she kept her pace. The instructors stopped them on the top of a knoll with the top cleared away from the activities of intoxicated locals. The cadets were to make camp in two-man teams underneath ancient canvas tents. Not exactly tactical, but a place where they could begin the next phase of their training.
“Listen up, people. Gather ‘round.”
Mairin finished pushing the last tent stake into the soft black soil, grabbed her rifle, and walked to the center of the patrol base. It wasn’t meant to be a tactical base, not with the tents erected and a small fire pit being tended by one of the sergeants. A real patrol base meant hand-dug firing positions, no fires, and little comfort. Soon, they’d be thrust into that environment. For most of them, it would be the first time. Mairin wandered into the knot of cadets and stood near the middle of the horseshoe forming around Captain McDaniel. She looked around at their faces, her twenty-nine fellow cadets, sensing them. Most of them were too scared of Staff Sergeant Snyder and Captain McDaniel to notice Mairin.
McDaniel scowled at them. On his camouflaged uniform he wore the Ranger tab, jumpmaster wings, and air assault wings. No combat patch, and no combat infantry badge, Mairin noticed for the first time. He made no excuse for hating cadets, and now it was obvious why. He feared the war had moved on without him.
McDaniel growled, “I’m only going to say this once. This training rifle uses blank ammunition. Same kind of thing the army trained with for years. This, as you can see, is a beer can. It’s going to show you the effect of blank ammunition if you fail to use the blank firing adapter on this weapon.” McDaniel held up a red metal square that slipped over the muzzle and screwed in place. “The sole purpose of this piece of equipment is to maintain gas pressure in the barrel so that the bolt will recoil off the buffer spring and chamber the next round. Without it, this rifle is nearly as dangerous as when its fully locked and loaded with live rounds.”
Mairin watched McDaniel unscrew the blank firing adapter and put the muzzle of the rifle into the can, hold it erect and pull the trigger. A third of the platoon recoiled at the sound of the blast. The can erupted in a burst of flame a few inches in diameter. Mairin merely blinked as the can flew across the perimeter like a rocket engine trailing shreds of aluminum on its path.
“All of you make sure, right now, that your blank firing adapter is in place. We will not have any injuries on this field training exercise, am I clear?” McDaniel watched them closely. “Sundown is in thirty minutes; we’ll be sending out the first patrol in forty-five minutes. Squad leaders, I’ll brief you here in ten minutes. Get your gear stowed, grab some chow, and be ready for operations. Move out.”
The group dispersed and Mairin fell into step with her tentmate, Cox, who smiled in his aw-shucks grin and drawled, “Nothing like a little drama, huh?”
Mairin shrugged, “More power than I thought a blank would have.” Sometimes it was just easier to go with the crowd.
Cox grinned. “You ain’t never been hunting, Shields. I can tell that.”
Mairin smiled. “You got me there.”
“You okay?” Cox looked at her as they put their sleeping gear into the tent and left their load bearing vests and magazine belts outside to carry on patrol.
“Yeah, sorry.” She smiled and pulled out her issued ration for the night. Chicken a la king. Gross. Cox had spaghetti. “Wanna trade?”
Cox grinned. “Sure.”
Mairin switched meals with him and thought, no imprint on you either. You’d know that spaghetti is to be coveted. Or maybe you’re just being nice to the new cadet. She scratched her ear, a bad habit from her days wearing eyeglasses, and dug into the ration. “You’re going infantry, right?”
“Yeah. Hear you want to be a tanker.” Cox shoveled food into his mouth.
Mairin shook her head. “No, cavalry. There’s a difference.”
“Spare me,” Cox said. “This army ain’t about horses and guidons and that nonsense. Better think of something different.”
They finished eating in near silence, watching the rest of the platoon doing the same thing from their tent positions. The designated squad leaders were in the middle of the perimeter getting an operations order from Captain McDaniel. Mairin covered a smile developing with a spoonful of food. I’m a goddamn cadet all over again.
Word came down that her squad would man the perimeter when the fir
st patrols went out. Captain McDaniel personally briefed them before leaving with the first patrol of the night. “All right, when we’re ready to return to the patrol base, we’re going to approach. Most likely we’ll sound like a herd of elephants tromping around. When you hear that, whoever is in the position closest to where we are approaching from will challenge us. Either the patrol or the patrol base uses the challenge and password to establish identity quickly. In a combat situation, failure to answer the challenge correctly results in bullets flying. In this particular case, the patrol will challenge you. We will sound off with the word ‘pink.’ You will reply with ‘stockings.’ Do I make myself clear?”
Mairin settled into her position with Cox and looked out across the rapidly darkening mountain valley. In the distance, Cherokee Mountain held the last tendrils of light on its peak for a long moment before finally succumbing to the spread of night. Mairin looked at it for a long moment. There was something about it. Something familiar. Something familial. The warm air began to turn slightly cool as they lay in the fighting position. Mairin rested her chin on one palm and waited.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Cox chided her.
Mairin nodded and concentrated on watching the woods and underbrush to her front. They lay there quietly until the sun fully set. The sky was clear and moonless. The darkness total. Mairin felt her eyes dragged skyward, wondering where Eden was in that black field of diamonds. Where were her parents in that big black void? From here, what was once the center of humanity, the war seemed so far away. It would return most likely, and the Earth might be scorched again beyond recognition. Mairin sniffed the wind, catching a fresh breeze of honeysuckle and a rush of memory so vivid it took her breath away.
Plunging her hands into the green vines, pulling the white and yellow blossoms out in fistfuls, smelling the honey, tasting the bitter flowers, wiping pollen and sap on her shirt. Dirty little fingers from playing in the fields near the house. They’d been throwing rotten tomatoes at each other, all the neighborhood boys. They sprayed each other with water to get rid of the evidence. Then a drink of cold, rubbery tasting water from the hose.
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