“I do,” Sharala replied.
Ophida reached for the first ring and handed it to her. “Please place your ring upon her finger as a sign of your promise.”
Sharala slid the ring onto her partner’s finger and Ophida looked at the other woman.
“And is it your wish, Karol,” she asked, “to be paired with this woman? To be her partner in all things, both good and ill? To have her for all time as your mate?”
“I do,” Karol replied.
“Please place your ring upon her finger as a sign of your promise.” As Karol placed her ring on Sharala’s finger, someone in the audience stifled a sob of happiness and Lilith felt a knot starting to grow in her own throat.
“Then in the name of the Lady, and by the powers granted to me by the Great Temple of Selene, the Office of the Chaplain General of the United Sisterhood of Suns Naval Forces, and in the eyes of all here assembled, I declare that you are wedded to one another from this day forwards. Daughters, remove your veils so that you might gaze upon one another as pairmates.”
As the two women raised each other’s veils, and gazed at one another, the wedding guests stood and applauded the new couple.
Katrinn reached out and squeezed Lilith’s arm. “Oh, isn’t this just wonderful?” she asked. Her eyes were bright with tears and Lilith nodded in silent agreement.
It was wonderful, she thought, watching as the newly married women shared a glass of wine from a special silver cup. Karol was a tall blond who reminded her strongly of Ingrit, and an image came to her, of herself, standing up at the altar in Sharala’s place, and looking into her lover’s eyes as they faced a new life together.
Could that ever be? she wondered. Would a time ever arise in her life when she would give up her career as an officer to join with Ingrit as her wife?
Up to that point she’d never really considered any other life for herself. But as she watched the happy couple, the sweetness of their shared moment tugged on her heartstrings.
Perhaps, she thought. Not today or tomorrow, but someday.
USSMC Training Facility, 75th Training Battalion, Hella’s World, Hecate System, Artemi Elant, United Sisterhood of Suns, 1043.02|17|03:36:63
Kaly ran at the wall and jumped. She was just able to get her fingers over the top lip before she lost her grip and slipped off.
Sa’Tela was standing on the sidelines, watching her lack of progress with obvious disapproval. “Get back to the jump-off site and try it again, N’Deena!”
Kaly swore under her breath and tried a second time to mount the wooden barrier, but she was unable to master it.
“All right, N’Deena,” Sa’Tela hollered. “You’re holding up the line. Go around the fekking wall!!”
Humiliated, Kaly ran around to the next obstacle, a maze of low wires that she was forced to crawl under on her belly. This at least was something that she was good at. Most of the other girls were larger than her, and she was able to get through this part of the course without getting hung up.
Troop Leader n’Teri, who was waiting for her on the other side, didn’t shower her with praises, however. The DI gave her a shove and yelled at her to move on to the next phase.
This was a length of rope suspended over a deep, dry pit. The objective was simple enough: to swing across the expanse on the rope and reach the other side. When Kaly reached the station, she stopped to catch the rope before attempting to swing over. This cost her the energy that she needed to complete the trip and she came up just short of the opposite side. Remembering her experiences as a child on a swing, she pushed straight out against the bank with her feet and sent herself backwards, creating enough momentum for another try. It did the trick. She was able to crest the lip of the pit, and she let go, landing on the opposite side at last.
Troop Leader N’Vera was anything but congratulatory. “What the fek was that supposed to be, N’Deena? Do you think you’ll have that kind of time in real combat? Run back and do that maneuver again in one swing!”
Kaly obeyed, but this time, she came up short, and was left hanging in the air above the pit.
“Drop the fek off, N’Deena!” N’Vera howled, “and go back and do it over!”
Kaly tried to cross several more times after this, but with an equal lack of success. Finally N’Vera had had enough of her and waved her on to the next station.
A rope bridge, with two lines attatched to it that served as primitive hand rails, awaited her. It was suspended over a pool of muddy water.
As the recruit in front of her negotiated the bridge, it swayed wildly. Halfway across, the hatchie lost her footing and fell into the evil looking pool. Watching her, Kaly’s guts churned at the prospect of trying to cross over it herself. N’Vera didn’t give her any options though; the DI was right behind her, screaming at her to move along.
With no other choice, Kaly stepped out onto the rope and grabbed hold of the hand lines, feeling like a tightrope walker from some old realie. It took her a few steps before she got the knack of walking with one foot in front of the other, and even then, her progress was slow. Reaching the middle of the span, she saw a place where the rope had been worn smooth by the feet of countless hatchies and she stepped over it carefully, and reached the other side.
Even so, N’Vera was not pleased. “You were too slow N’Deena!” she shouted. “Just for that, I want you to turn around and go back and this time you’d better get across faster!”
Kaly obeyed and started across the bridge. When she reached the center again, she attempted to step over the smooth spot on the rope, but this time she misplaced her foot and slipped.
For an instant, she hung there, grasping the hand lines and trying desperately to get back up on the footrope. It was hopeless though, and finally, she surrendered to the inevitable and let herself drop into the water. She surfaced a moment later, covered with mud and filth.
N’Vera was livid. “N’Deena, you fekking screw-up! I told you to go across, not to go swimming! Get to the end of the line and go across that bridge again, and keep going until I tell you to stop!”
By the end of the day, she had made dozens of crossings, falling into the water a third of the time. At last, cold and wet, she was hustled back to the barracks double-quick by N’Vera and her mood was dark by the time they arrived.
“There’s a trick to making it through the obstacle course, you know,” Bel Anny said as Kaly dejectedly changed out of her sodden clothing.
“Oh?” Kaly asked doubtfully.
“Yep,” Bel Anny replied. “It’s all in your momentum. You have to come at the wall at a run and then jump up just before you hit it. If you slow down, or stop, you’ll never make it over the top.’
“The same goes with the rope. If you take it running, you’ll have plenty of energy to make it over the first time. As for the bridge—well, all I can say is to watch your feet, but I guess you know that by now.”
Kaly sighed raggedly. “Jana, I’m not sure I can get through this course.”
“That’s half the reason you fail,” Bel Anny suggested. “You have to believe that you can succeed, and then you will. Give it a try.”
***
Kaly faced her opponent with grim determination. The wooden wall stood there, a huge and implacable barrier, seemingly defying her to conquer it. She was on her free time, and she’d come to the confidence course with her fellow recruits to get in some practice before the next official training session.
“I’m going to master you,” she vowed, visualizing herself topping the wall just like Bel Anny had instructed. Taking a deep breath, she started off, running at it for all she was worth. When she came to within a stride, she pushed off and leapt upwards. To her amazement, her fingers touched the top, and she hauled herself over with all the strength that her arms had to give.
“Yes!” N’Gari cried as she watched her from the sidelines.
“That’s it, Kaly!” Bel Anny yelled, raising a triumphant fist in the air.
Kaly dropped to the
ground, and grinned. Then she trotted back to the starting line for another try, pleased and just a little amazed at her success.
Her next session on the confidence course proved to be an entirely different experience. She powered over the wall with ease and swung across the rope like a super-heroine. Even Troop Leader n’Vera had to give her a grudging nod of approval as she completed the course.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d make it, N’Deena,” N’Vera said. This was as close to a compliment as N’Vera was capable of, and Kaly was glad to hear it, knowing how hard it had been for the DI to admit it.
Another round of self-defense training took up the rest of the morning, centering on basic throws. The platoon managed to collect a fair assortment of bruises from the practice, including Kaly.
Despite this, she was in high spirits as she filed into the PTS auditorium for their afternoon class, and her elation was shared by many of her classmates. Their collective mood was about to change radically, however.
“For today’s class we have a guest speaker,” Sa’Tela announced. Kaly half-expected that their guest was going to be another Hriss, or something equally distasteful.
It wasn’t.
An officer, about the Troop Leader’s age, came into the PTS room, dressed in a class “A” Marine uniform that was covered in medals. One of them was the Supreme Circle’s Medal of Honor, the highest decoration awarded for bravery and service to the Sisterhood.
Kaly realized that this was no average Marine.
The woman walked up to the small stage with a pronounced limp and there was a drawn, haunted expression on her face that bothered Kaly on a visceral level.
She looks like a ghost, the girl thought. It turned out that she wasn’t far from the truth.
“I have the honor of introducing Major Rana n’Hila,” Sa’Tela said, “Currently assigned to the 501st Intelligence Battalion. Major, perhaps you would like to tell everyone the topic of today’s lesson?”
The Major nodded and took her place behind the podium. She looked at the recruits for some time, with a gaze that seemed to see past them, to something distant and unknown that only she could perceive. Finally, she spoke. “The subject for today’s class is becoming a prisoner of war.”
She let her words hang in the air for a long moment before continuing. “You may already know from your PTS feeds, that the Code of Military Justice specifies that all women who are taken as prisoners of war are only expected to furnish their name, rank and service number, and that treaties agreed to through the agency of the Galactic Collective, stipulate that all prisoners are to be treated according to strict humanitarian guidelines. Can anyone tell me what some of those guidelines are?”
Bel Anny stood up and answered for the platoon. “Ma’am, some of those guidelines would be that prisoners are not to be subjected to torture and that they must have adequate food, water and shelter, ma’am.”
“Yes, they do say that don’t they?” the Major replied, smiling as if she had just been told a bad joke. “One would therefore expect that becoming a prisoner wouldn’t be that bad, wouldn’t they?” No one tried to contradict her.
“They would be incorrect,” the Major continued. “Even though the Sisterhood’s Armed Forces subscribes to the humane treatment of its prisoners, and even though the member races of the Galactic Collective say that they do so as well, the truth is quite different.’
“I am currently assigned to an Intel Unit. However, I wasn’t always part of the 501st. My original assignment was with a Mobile Infantry Company, stationed aboard the USSNS Gloriana.”
She paused to see if anyone in the room understood what this implied before pressing on. “My Company saw action in the Battle for Adralaun in the War of the Prophet, and my sisters and I had the misfortune of being captured by the Hriss. We expected that, like ourselves, they would abide by a similar code of prisoner treatment. We were dead wrong.”
Kaly was just beginning to understand the point of the lecture. Without realizing it, she gripped the arms of her seat tightly, knowing instinctively what the Major would tell them next, and dreading to hear it.
“You see, ladies,” the officer said, her voice oddly flat and emotionless, “The Hriss have no concept of ‘humane’ treatment. Their language has no words for ‘mercy’ or ‘compassion.’ And they view anyone who is taken prisoner as a lesser being, worthy only of contempt.”
“Those of us who were not killed outright were taken off-planet to a special facility where they studied us. Being an entirely patriarchal society, the Hriss are fascinated by a race of females that can fight, and they were determined to learn what our weaknesses were.”
“The women that survived their initial capture were subjected to horrible experiments and tortures of every kind, without any regard for the conventions of war, or decency.”
“I am one of the three members of the two hundred women in my Company to survive that experience. I was lucky enough to be rescued by a Marine Special Forces team when they raided the installation.’
“However, it still took many years of rehabilitation, both mental and physical, before I was ready for active service again, or to be able to speak about what I had experienced. I could stand here and tell you what happened to me and to my fellow prisoners, but words are not always enough to get the point across. Let me show you some images of what I experienced instead.”
A series of holograms appeared in the air. From the data tags, Kaly could tell that they were shots taken from the helmet-cams of the Marines who had attacked the facility.
The place was dark, and the images were grainy, which proved to be a blessing. What Kaly did manage to see brought back memories of her own experiences in the Gathering Square on the night of the raid on Persephone.
In one shot, a room was shown strewn with body parts and corpses, left to lie there on the floor like discarded scraps of meat from a predator’s meal. Others showed women attached to strange devices in various stages of death, and yet another depicted a primitive operating room of sorts, with dissected bodies sprawled on the tables. From the restraints on the wrists and legs, it was all too obvious that the dissections had been performed while the victims had still been alive.
While the holo-show progressed, several of the recruits became ill and fled the room. Kaly was not one of them though. She remained, frozen in her seat, and unable to look away. Lena, who was in tears, tried to grab onto her for comfort, but Kaly barely noticed her, caught up in an inner maelstrom of fascination, horror, and anger.
Finally, mercifully, the images ceased.
“Where the Hriss are concerned,” the Major said, “there are no rules of war. The lesson for today is simple; do not allow yourself to be taken alive. Resist with everything you have in you, or suffer the same fate that my sisters and I did. Thank you for your attention.”
She regarded them with a strange smile, and hobbled off the stage.
The recruits marched out of the auditorium in silence. To the last, they were deeply shaken. There was very little conversation as they went about the daily chores of cleaning their barracks and inspecting their weapons, and Kaly immersed herself in field stripping her Mark 7, trying to ignore the profound depression that sat atop her like a living being.
She suddenly felt old, and she realized that up to that day, a part of her had still been a little girl filled with hopeful illusions. That she had been holding onto the belief that what had happened on Persephone had only been an aberration, a freak event. That the galaxy wasn’t the awful, savage place that the Major had described.
She knew better now, and her existence seemed all the more dark and forbidding for it. Perhaps this was an integral part of growing up, she reflected, the point where childish hopes were set aside and the savagery of life was acknowledged at last.
The notion of someday going out and facing that in battle and possibly even experiencing the horrors that she’d seen during the lecture, filled her with dread, but also with resolution.
> Her path was decided. She was going to be one of the few who would stand up to such monstrosities. She would be a part of the “thin grey line” that N’Teri had described to them so often, and she would save others from the atrocities that the universe was capable of inflicting.
Filled with a renewed sense of purpose and strength, she started to reassemble Athena, and Lena came over and sat down on the cot next to her. For a long time, the girl said nothing to her, but then, in a quiet voice, too low for the others to hear, her battle sister spoke at last.
“Kaly,” she said. “I want you to promise me, if it ever comes down to it—” But she couldn’t finish what she had started to say. She didn’t need to.
Kaly carefully put down the cleaning rag that she’d been polishing her blaster with and gently caressed Lena’s cheek. “It won’t,” she vowed. “I won’t let it.”
USSNS Pallas Athena, In Space-Dock, Rixa Naval Base, Rixa, Belletrix System, Pantari Elant, United Sisterhood of Suns, 1043.02|18|06:32:92
With only two days left before their scheduled departure for Sagana, Lilith was working in her office reviewing the mission folio when the Com sounded.
“Commander?” It was Marga bel Lyra, her Chief Engineer. To make room for all of the special equipment the Marine Engineer detachment needed to bring with them, Bel Lyra had been overseeing modifications to deck 12.
“Yes, Marga?”
“We just finished removing bulkhead 1250A.”
“Did your crews trip over any more ghosts?” Lilith asked with a dry smirk.
“Not…exactly,” Bel Lyra responded hesitantly.
“Marga? Don’t tell me that you believe in such nonsense?” Lilith was shocked. Bel Lyra was one of the most pragmatic women she had ever known. Her universe consisted of the hard reality of engine systems, duct controls and the laws of applied physics. Not the occult.
“Well, no, ma’am, I don’t. Not usually. But in this case...” Bel Lyra replied, “Well, I can just say that I’ve been down on 12 with the crews, and I’ve seen what they’ve been reporting. I’ve also heard the knocking sounds, and now…this.”
Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena Page 41