Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena

by Martin Schiller

  Lilith suddenly found herself wondering if Bel Lyra hadn’t been working too many hours. Maybe a shore leave is in order, she thought, upcoming patrol or no.

  “Now this, what?” she asked her.

  “Well, perhaps you’d better just come down and see, ma’am. Make up your own mind,” Bel Lyra suggested. “I’ve already called Reverend n'Marsi.”

  “Fine,” Lilith agreed. “I’m on my way.”

  On deck 12, she found most of the expansion crew and a group of Marine engineers huddled around the end of an auxiliary passageway, talking to each other in low, fearful voices. Ophida n' Marsi was also there, along with the Chief Engineer.

  “Blessings of the Lady, Commander,” Ophida said. “It seems that some of what the crew has been reporting has some merit after all.”

  “How so?” Lilith inquired. Now she was wondering if N’ Marsi needed shore leave as well.

  “Perhaps we should just show her,” Bel Lyra proposed.

  “Yes,” Ophida agreed. “Commander?”

  The priestess walked down the corridor, beckoning for Lilith and Bel Lyra to follow. They worked their way past stacks of new wall sections and pipes, and stepped over temporary hose lines until they reached the section where the bulkhead had been removed. There, the work had revealed a hollow cavity that had existed between it and the next bulkhead.

  Inside, Lilith saw what she thought were old clothes, but as Bel Lyra illuminated the area with a hand light, she realized what had really been concealed there, and gasped.

  The body inside the moldering spacesuit had long since mummified and partially collapsed in on itself, but it was clearly human. The suit was old-fashioned, but still easily recognizable as a construction-worker’s spacesuit with a heavier than usual helmet and armored plates suited for hard work in a vacuum.

  “That suit’s at least 300 years standard,” Bel Lyra stated. “From the insignia, I’d say that she was one of the original builders of the Athena.”

  Lilith was incredulous. “But how..?”

  “Back then, we were in a big hurry to get a navy built,” Bel Lyra said. “There was a lot of high-speed automation; robots did a lot of the plate-laying. I figure that whoever she was, she got sealed in by a ‘bot and died in there. The plating in this area is so heavy that her distress signal probably didn’t get out, if she was even conscious at the time. It’s happened before with big ships, even before space travel existed.”

  “May the All Merciful Lady grant her peace after all these long years,” Ophida interjected, making the Lady’s sign over the corpse. Bel Lyra and Lilith solemnly copied her.

  “Perhaps this is a positive thing,” the priestess ventured, “A sign of good luck for the ship. Putting her to rest now, before shipping out, may herald a more fortunate outcome for our mission.”

  “Perhaps,” Lilith replied, carefully masking her skepticism. Even though it was obvious that the entire affair had been nothing more than a series of odd coincidences which could be explained rationally, the crew would still need some closure. That was what really mattered. Ship morale couldn’t be allowed to flag.

  Presently, the Medstaff arrived, and removed the body. After a brief autopsy in the MedBay, the High Priestess performed a formal funeral ceremony and the corpse of the hapless construction worker was sent into space with full military honors.

  After that, there were no more reports of ghosts on deck 12.

  ***

  The body on deck 12 wasn’t the only surprise waiting for the Athena, or her Commander. The next came the following day.

  Like any starship dedicated to keeping the peace, the Athena used an automated system for loading the tons of ordinance required to supply its weapons batteries. In the Athena’s case, this consisted of a massive array of conveyor belts that fed bomb clusters and rockets up from Ord Stores into the waiting guns and launching tubes. For the most part, the system worked quickly and efficiently, but on occasion, things did go wrong, and then workers like Jon were required to lend their flesh and blood assistance.

  The neoman was in charge of a cluster of space-to-space anti-ship missiles that needed to be switched out with another set that didn’t match the battery that they were intended to feed. The pod, consisting of twenty missiles, was securely held by his lifter’s grasping arms, and according to the HUD display on the driver’s compartment, he was right on target. When the laser guides told him that he was in line, he edged forwards until the sensors agreed that the pod had made contact with the cradle, and then he released his load.

  As soon as the on-board computer verified that the load was secure, and that it matched with the requisition orders for the slot, Jon backed his vehicle out and headed back to the main stores area for another consignment. On his way through the inner blast doors that protected the rest of Ordinance Stores from the conveyor system, he passed a group of women from Engineering moving in the opposite direction.

  Part of the system had been shut down, and they were fixing one of the belts that had been suffering from malfunctions. It was an important repair, given the vital nature of the belt’s job, but it hadn’t mandated shutting down the entire delivery system.

  Jon waved at the crew, but just as he had expected, they didn’t return his greeting. The neoman sighed in resignation and drove on.

  He was in the process of picking up a crate of rail-gun ammunition when he overheard that the repair crew had arrived at their destination in row 130 and was starting their work on the conveyor belt. It shouldn’t have concerned him, but something about the transmission made his hair stand on end. It was a premonition of disaster.

  Something terrible was about to happen, he realized. Suddenly, he was at war with himself, just as Jesu had struggled when Shaitan had tempted him. His talent was never incorrect about such things. Someone was about to be killed. He was certain of it, and he started to turn the ‘lifter around when he stopped.

  Don’t be a fool, he told himself. If you go back there before the accident, they will know about your talent and then all will be lost.

  But the feeling of immanent disaster was simply too much for him to bear. He could almost feel the agonizing pain that was about to visit itself upon the crewwomen, and he could not resist the call of his vision. Even though they were unbelievers, they were still human and he knew that he could never live with himself if he didn’t at least try to intervene.

  A Marine would do that, he reasoned. A Believer would do that too and the Revalation stated it plainly; ‘Show ye charity and aid to all those in distress. Know that to aid them is a holy thing, and to stay thy hand when one could have acted is a sin.’ There was really no choice.

  Jon hit the brakes and turned the vehicle around. Immediately, a psiever message flashed in his vision. It was from his supervisor: “Fa’Teela!” it read, “Turn around now and stow that ord-load!”

  Heedless of the prohibition against using it, Jon keyed his voice com. “The belt!” he started to say, seeing it in his mind, “Get the crew out now! Hurry! The brace is about to--”

  But he was already too late. There was a cry of alarm over the general Com and then an agonized scream. Jon gunned the engine of his lifter and raced back to the conveyor belts. The lifter’s plastic and rubber tires squealed and smoked as he hurtled down towards row 130.

  He had no trouble finding it; a frantic Engineer came running out, waving her arms at him. Jon pulled up and jumped out of the cab.

  Up the row, he saw the metal conveyor belt. The techs had been working on its internal wheels and their guide tracks, and had used a special metal brace to hold back the belt’s sections and create a workspace inside of it.

  The brace had failed and it had come back down the track with the full weight of the belt behind it. One woman was pinned at the waist, and as he came nearer, he saw another woman, lying inside, neatly decapitated.

  “We need help!” Jon yelled into his com-mike. “I have one deceased and one in critical condition!”

  “Wha
t happened?” someone, probably an Officer, demanded.

  The one woman who had not been injured spoke up. “The brace--it--it collapsed. We were running a diagnostic when it came back down. Oh, Goddess, I can’t believe it--” the rest of what she had been trying to say was cut off as she collapsed to her knees and sobbed.

  Jon ignored her. It was the crewmember pinned in by the brace that commanded his full attention instead. She was about his age, he realized, and with her dark hair and eyes, she could have been his sister. Her skin was chalk-white and her lips were turning blue as she gazed back up at him with eyes that were bright with shock.

  “My legs,” she said quietly.

  They weren’t attached to her anymore, he realized in horror. The brace had cut her in half at the waist and he knew that the only thing keeping her alive at the moment was the pressure of the metal against her abdomen. But shock was quickly reversing any benefit that this might have lent.

  “C-cold,” the woman rasped through dry lips. “S--so cold.”

  Jon took off his light duty jacket and placed it over her. In a more profound sense than at any other time in his life, he felt completely helpless, knowing that there was nothing else he could do for her. Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out and gently stroked her sweat-streaked forehead, silently reciting a prayer for her.

  “Myra!” the woman behind him urged, “the medics are coming. Hold on a little longer. Please, goddess, hold on. They’ll save you!”

  But Myra knew better and so did Jon. He looked down into her eyes and saw that death was staring back out at him.

  “I tried,” he said, his voice choking. “I’m sorry, so very sorry.”

  “I know,” Myra replied, smiling back at him like one of the angels at Jesu’s side. “T-thank you.”

  Then she slipped away.

  ***

  Dr. elle’Kaari showed Jon out of her Office with a ‘script for some anti-depressants and then went over to her desk. Open case file, she thought. Fa‘Teela, Jon.

  Jon’s classified file came up and she considered her words carefully. When she felt ready, she spoke.

  “According to the report I received from the Ordnancemistress, the subject had a premonition of the events that transpired there. In the statement given by the Ord Stores officer, the subject not only named the specifics of the event, but also responded to the location of the accident without any external direction. He knew where it was, and what had happened.’

  “This event supports the data that we already have concerning his talents and should be added to the index of his precognitive ability set. If Fa‘Teela is an average sample as we suspect, then it must be concluded that neomen score highly in this particular area, which would agree with his other psi test results.’

  “Also, due to the overt nature of the event, it is unavoidable that this matter must be discussed with the Commander of this vessel, and we should anticipate an inquiry by the Navy. It is also highly probable that he will come under scrutiny by naval psi’s as part of their investigation.’

  “My recommendation is that any psionic mental manipulation of him by our operatives should be delayed until we are certain that they will not be detected. Please furnish instructions regarding the parameters of any discussion with non-Agency personnel.”

  She saved her entry, and then sent a copy of it for immediate review by Ophida.

  ***

  Lilith replayed the log of the accident in Ordnance Stores and then addressed her officers.

  “So,” she said, taking a long speculative pull off her czigavar, “It would seem that ‘our’ neoman reacted to the emergency in Ord Stores in a very surprising manner. His response was apparently the result of a precognitive insight, if the record is accurate.”

  “It was nothing but wild chance,” Col. Lislsdaater said dismissively. “In my book it was also blatant insubordination. He disobeyed a direct order to continue with his duties, and I think that this rises to a level that needs to be addressed.”

  “The ships psi’s might argue with you about it being mere luck, Colonel,” Lilith countered, “and from the log, I would have to agree with them.’

  “I’m not sure what the Admiralty will think of all this, but I’d venture a guess from what Dr. elle’Kaari has told me, that his premonition was either a one-time event as she believes it was, or that it might actually represent latent talents that he has concealed from us for some reason; most likely in order not to stand out.”

  “Commander, talents or not, he should be brought up on charges, pure and simple,” Col. Lislsdaater insisted. “He could have endangered his fellow Marines with that mad dash through Ord Stores, and added himself to the casualties.”

  Lilith shook her head. “No. Not only would that be a disastrous blow to the public relations effort surrounding him, but I do not personally agree.”

  “Commander, with all due respect,” the Colonel said rising, “the neoman is my Marine and this is a Marine matter.”

  “True,” Lilith replied with a calm smile. “But as part of the Marine detachment assigned to this ship, he is also part of my crew and the Navy has a vested interest in the honest outcome of its experiment with him. If he fails, it has to be something that is clearly and unquestionably a failure. If it came to it, the public at large might view this event as an act of heroism on his part, not disobedience. Do you want that on your record?”

  “No, ma’am,” Lislsdaater agreed, reseating herself.

  “Now,” Lilith said, extinguishing her czigavar, “I think that the specific issue of his talents should be kept quiet. I’d also like Dr. elle'Kaari to study him further and determine if they exist to any meaningful degree. In addition, I’d like to see Fa‘Teela taken out of Ord Stores and included in any special details that might fit his actual MOS. Be inventive.”

  “You want him transferred out of Ord Stores?” the Colonel asked. As competent an officer as she was, Lilith sometimes thought that she could be especially dense when it came to subtleties.

  “Yes, Colonel, if you would,” she replied. “If he fails, then it should be in a decisive and dramatic manner. If not, then he will have the chance to distinguish himself and bring credit to the armed services. Either outcome would be satisfactory as far as I am concerned. As for his talents, I’ll leave it to the Navy to decide what to do with him. That’s a matter well outside of my purview. Dismissed.”

  ***

  The funeral for the two engineers was held that evening in the Ships Temple, with Ophida and her assistants presiding.

  One of the deceased had been an Amerite, a worshiper of the ancient sun goddess, Ameratsu, and everyone who had attended the funeral honored her memory by dressing themselves in white, the traditional death color. The other woman had been a Selenite, like Lilith, and out of respect for her beliefs, the woman’s mate and close friends had added black sashes to signify their mourning.

  The tiny group sat together at the front of the room, comforting one another as the High Priestess intoned the funeral rite over the two bodies, which were in the center of the Temple, in closed coffins.

  Lilith followed along with everyone, reading from the script for the service, rising, sitting and singing as it directed. Grief, it seemed was universal, no matter the framework in which it was experienced, she thought, seeking out the neoman in the assembly.

  Jon fa’Teela had very nearly missed the service; his Troop Leader had assigned him to work a double shift that day, clearly intending to prevent him from attending. Only the express wishes of one of the widows, and Lilith’s personal intervention, had overridden this.

  The neoman was seated at the back of the Temple by himself, and Lilith watched him carefully for his reactions to the service. She was by no means the only one in the room observing him with a critical eye as the rite went on.

  From what she saw, the Marionite seemed just as moved as everyone else. Lilith caught him a few times, superstitiously crossing himself at key points in the proceedings, but
he made a show of participating in the rite and demonstrated proper respect for the deceased, and their beliefs, where it was expected.

  Perhaps he isn’t as uncivilized as Col. Lislsdaater makes him out to be, she reflected. His attempt to rescue the engineers had been at a level equal to what any woman in his position would have done. That in and of itself, tended to belie the common notion that all males were selfish and insensitive. At the very least, it would make for an interesting discussion with Mearinn d’Rann and Dana bel Hanna, Lilith decided.

  By this point, the service had reached the point where the congregation was expected to bid the deceased farewell and to show their respects to their survivors. Lilith got up with Katrinn and filed up with her to the mate of the Selenite engineer. Now, it was her turn to perform a ritual, and one that was just as somber as the funeral rite. She drew in a deep breath before she took a Sisterhood flag from her second. It had been folded up into the traditional presentation triangle.

  “On behalf of the Star Service and the entire crew of this ship,” she said, offering the flag out to the tearful woman, “please accept this humble symbol of our respect. We cannot ever replace what you have lost, but the Sisterhood is grateful for your mate’s service, and for the sacrifice that she made in the line of duty.”

  She saluted her. The woman clutched the flag to her breast and managed a strangled acknowledgement before she burst into another round of tears. Lilith stepped back and moved respectfully away.

  When Jon’s turn came, he whispered something to the grief stricken woman and took her hands in his for a moment. The widow listened, and then reached up and touched his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I know you did everything for her that you could.”

  A tear coursed down Fa’Teela’s features as he gave her his own salute. Even Troop Leader da’Saana, who was behind him in line, was forced to nod in grudging approval at the exchange.