by Edward Lee
A terrorist attack on the Data Regiment, and an explosion in the Property Station.
It just seemed odd.
Though Matthew did have a recourse. He fingered the silver cross about his neck, knowing what was secreted beneath its shining finish. During the second California Campaign, Matthew had commanded an extraction platoon with orders to capture a team of Mt. Sutro Front hackers being harbored in the Exclusion Zone of Old San Francisco. The raid had failed on one hand (Matthew and his platoon had wound up killing all of the front members), but one positive result was their discovery of a box of algorithmic biochips. Matthew had been promoted for the find: the chips were programmed to override all Christian Federate decryption modules, a formidable technological weapon. There’d been six of the chips all told.
Matthew had turned in five.
It was a security crime that could imprison Matthew for life. But he’d kept the chip just the same, a safeguard so to speak.
With that chip, he could probably find out what was really going on.
If this is wrong, then I must face God’s wrath, he realized. But…if it’s right—
Two tiny indentations were located at the butt of the cross. Matthew crimped them with his fingernails, began to slide the hidden chip out, but before he could extract it even an eighth of an inch—
“What in God’s name—”
From behind, a puncture-proof effluxion sack was whipped over his head, its draw cord yanked closed. Suddenly Major-Rector Matthew couldn’t see and couldn’t breathe.
But he could still hear.
“Under heaven lay umbra,” came a dark voice.
Matthew scrabbled backward in his grav chair, arms flailing. His face beat like a frantic heart from the stricture around his neck. He blindly reached aside for the security alarm but—
CLACK!
He flopped to the floor, convulsing.
A de-jam gun had been pressed to his temple and fired. The tool’s 1000-foot-pound bolt instantly cracked Matthew’s skull, penetrating inches into the brain. Then—
SNAP!
The bolt retracted.
The puncture-proof sack began to quickly fill with blood. Matthew died, heels thudding the floor. He never even had time to ask God to forgive him for his sins.
The only living mouth in the cove spake: “Hail, Kilukrus.”
— | — | —
PART THREE
“The children of the kingdom shall
be cast out into outer darkness.”
—Matthew 8:12
— | — | —
(I)
“Calm down! Jeez!” came a woman’s voice.
Sharon quickly covered her breasts and pubis with her un-donned uniform. She was totally shocked to find herself facing a tall, shapely girl with long carbon-black hair.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my dom?”
The girl produced a transfer card. “I’m your new dom-mate,” she said. “You heard about the dichloroaniline leak in accessmain six, didn’t you?”
The cover story, Sharon reminded herself. What really happened was classified, to prevent a panic. “Of course. My dom-mate, Kim, was killed.”
“I was domming with some data tech named Leslie, a real snoot if you ask me.”
Sharon’s heart sunk another notch. “It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead.”
“Hey, they’re in heaven now but we’re stuck on this tub.” The woman tossed her duffel on the stripped bunk. A robust body was clear beneath the rarely-seen white service fatigues.
“The hair, the white fatigues,” Sharon said. “You’re a civilian.”
“Yeah but I’m grade-5 so don’t get any ideas about bossing me around. What are you?”
“Grade-6.”
“Shit. So much for that. My name’s Brigid, by the way.”
“Sharon,” Sharon said. “I like Brigid. Is it for Saint Brigid of Northumbria?”
“Yeah. Got murdered by Satanists during a pilgrimage to Rome. Hell of a person to be named after.” Brigid eyed the holoscreen, raised a brow. “Where’d you get the cyberfile? I thought they were illegal in the Army.”
“It’s not mine,” Sharon snapped. “It was my dom-mate’s, and, no, I wasn’t rooting through her privacy files, I just wanted to—”
“Relax, I’m not going to rat you out.” She watched a few moments more of the pornography. “Wow. She’s pretty over-the-top. Let’s watch the whole thing.”
Sharon switched off the screen. “No thanks. It’s disgusting.”
“Looked pretty hot to me.” Brigid peeked into the lav. “Oh, great, another vapor shower. Don’t they have any water showers on this ship?”
“Of course not,” Sharon rebelled. “It’s an inordinate expense. The vapor shower works just fine.”
“Yeah, and if you stay in it too long, you’ll lose your top layer of skin.” She walked around the dom, as if scrutinizing it. “God, no wonder I feel like I weigh a thousand pounds in here. Look how high you’ve got the grav turned up.”
“I like it high,” Sharon said. “It keeps me toned.” Brigid didn’t even ask; she turned the grav knob down. “There. That’s better.”
What a fuss-budget, Sharon thought.
Now the woman’s breasts seemed even larger, buoyant orbs under the white jumpsuit. She smiled. “See. You don’t look so flat now, right?”
“Thanks a lot,” Sharon muttered, but a quick look down beneath the wrap of her uniform confirmed the comment. Her breasts did look fuller. She sat down and crossed her legs, uncomfortable at being seen naked by someone else. “Lower grav is bad for your bones,” she pointed out.
“That’s bullshit,” Brigid said.
“Do you have to use language like that?”
“Jeez, don’t be so uptight. We’re both in this together, you know.” Now Brigid’s eyes went from scrutinizing the room to scrutinizing Sharon’s haphazardly covered body. “How’d you make Spec 6 so young? What are you, seventeen?”
“I’m twenty,” Sharon tersely corrected. “I’m a navprocessor and redundancy systems technician. I finished number one in my class.”
“Cool. Where’d you go?”
“Seaton Tech.”
“God, no wonder you were watching that cyberfile.”
“I wasn’t watch—”
“I’ve heard about that place. All girl from start to finish, right? Epiphanite nuns and all that?”
“Yes,” Sharon said.
“I went to Meade Cathedral. It was an all-girl class, but most of the instructors were men. Most of them were real old, though. Not a hard dick in the whole facility.”
Sharon frowned at the rough language. It wasn’t as bad as Tom’s, though it somehow seemed worse from a woman’s lips. But she had heard of Meade Cathedral; it was a psy-ops training compound for the Christian Security Agency. “So, what’s a civilian from CSA doing on this ship?”
“Breaking me in, I suppose,” Brigid said, testing the bunk mattress. “Probably just for familiarization training. They want all the RV’s to know what it’s like on exploratory missions.”
“RV’s?” Sharon asked.
“Yeah,” Brigid said. She lounged back in the bunk, let her feet float in the lowered gravity. “I’m a remote-viewer.”
««—»»
Sharon was fascinated at once. A remote-viewer. Psychics who could supposedly project their visual and aural senses great distances beyond their physical bodies. Like the telethesists and paramentals. She tried to act nonchalant as she redressed.
“So, you’ve…seen things?”
“Oh, sure. I can’t tell you what, of course, but I can tell you that it works. We’re screened from birth—it’s all natural. Not like the telethesists.”
“I heard that the Federate Intel terminated the telethesy programs.”
“Yeah, a lot of them simply couldn’t survive the implants and surgical procedures, and a lot of the ones that did either went nuts or died later from micro-hemorrhaging.”
Sharon remembered seeing some cyberfiles of a telethesy platoon. Large nodes protruded from the sides of their heads to accommodate the extra brain growth. It was hideous…but captivating.
“I knew a couple. They could actually channel themselves hundreds of thousands of miles, but a lot of times they’d forget what they saw, just from the sheer experience. Believe me, I’d rather be a remote-viewer any day. I don’t want some Defense Corp butcher cutting into my brain.” She rubbed her eyes as if fatigued. “They want us for industrial spying and stuff like that. The Japanese Space Agency’s all over the solar system now, probably breaking all kinds of free-trade agreements. It’s a living but if you want to know the truth, it’s pretty dull.”
Sharon couldn’t conceive how such a specialty could be dull. “My job’s dull. Yours must be thrilling.”
Brigid grinned at the remark. “Only when I abuse it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say there’s a lot more hanky-panky on this ship than you’d think.”
“You mean…you watch people…”
Brigid nodded. “And, you know, when a girl gets lonely, there’s some great scenery in the men’s shower quads.”
Sharon cringed to know more, but it seemed sinfully voyeuristic.
“The rest of it’s a pain in the ass,” Brigid went on. “All that sensory-dep and theta-wave meditation. And the attrition rate’s over ninety percent. Not many of us ever make it to permanent duty.”
“You must feel very privileged.”
Brigid shrugged. “The pay’s all right, and I get a lot of time off.”
“Are you married?”
“Not allowed to be. It comes with the contract. Single for life.”
This acknowledgment seemed sad to Sharon. Brigid had obviously chosen duty over wedlock, committing herself to a life of solitude for God’s work. An honorable sacrifice.
Brigid leaned up. “God, and there’s another thing I hate about these damn Army flights.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m starving.”
“Well then,” Sharon beamed. Even this soon, she knew she liked Brigid. She hoped they would be friends. “Let’s go to the chow hall and get some appetite suppressants!”
««—»»
SUSTAINETH ME WITH RAISINS, O LORD.
REFRESH ME WITH APPLES!
EAT YOUR BREAD WITH ENJOYMENT,
AND DRINK YOUR WINE WITH A MERRY HEART!
GOD, LORD OF HOSTS, WE THANK THEE FOR THIS BOUNTY!
Brigid was shaking her head. “I guess the Morale Department forgot to change the sign when they switched the ship to non-solids. Raisins and apples, my ass.” She held her cup under the electrolyte tap, waiting for it to fill with the crystal-green liquid. “And this Tinkerbell pee sure ain’t wine.”
Sharon, despite the rough language, enjoyed Brigid’s spirited vigor. “It’s a wonderful nutritional technology. All the calories we need in one glass.”
Brigid frowned down. “It looks like fairy urine, and tastes like it too.” She moved on in the line. “Oh, terrific. Now the main course.” A slot on a narrow machine ejected a small synthpaper cup full of pills. “Ah, my favorite. Veal Oscar with Tasmanian crab, artichoke hearts in truffle oil, and, oh, this little red one must be the garlic potato soufflé.”
Sharon gave a light laugh. “I don’t mind the non-solids, and I’m glad they changed to it for all sub-light missions.”
“Why?”
“It’s more efficient, saves money, lowers the Defense Corp budget.” Sharon followed the tall sable-haired woman to a table. “Our tiny sacrifice is good for the Federate.”
“You’re kidding me, right? You’d rather pop these ridiculous pills than bite into a chili dog with the works because it’s more efficient?”
“Why, of course. No fecal waste to out-process.”
Brigid grimaced. “Oh, that’s a delightful thought.”
Sharon didn’t get the objection. “And consider how much a real galley costs the Federate. All that food, all that storage space, equipment and food-service personnel. It’s just a minor inconvenience for the good of God’s work.”
“Sharon, we bust our asses for God, especially on these explo missions. We breathe recharged air, travel at unnatural speeds, risk our lives every living minute in these tubs—all for God. With all that, do you really think God would mind if we got to eat fried chicken once in a while?”
“Well, I guess not. But the way I look at it, the real food is something to look forward to when we get back to the moon.” She picked a red pill out of her cup, swallowed it with her green drink. “And the appetite suppressants work just fine for me.”
“Whatever turns you on, Sharon.”
Most of the rest of the pills were gengineered vitamins and immune stimulants. Sharon was about to swallow another pill when she noticed Brigid plucking out the long yellow one. She slipped it in her pocket.
“Why did you do that?”
“Are you serious? I don’t want that Big Brother crap in my bloodstream.”
Sharon didn’t know what she was talking about. “It’s good for you. It’s an anti-oxidant.”
Brigid sighed. “Wow, you really are naive, aren’t you? It’s not an anti-oxidant, Sharon. Everybody knows that.”
Sharon plucked out her own yellow pill, reading the tiny print on it. “See, it says right on the side: ‘D-L-alpha tocopheryl and selenium selinite.’ They’re compounds that block lipid degeneration in your cell walls and—”
“Keep your voice down!” Brigid whispered. “And give me that!” She snapped the yellow capsule from Sharon’s fingers and slipped it in her pocket. “You keep taking that crap, you’ll be a little girl all your life.”
The comment hurt her. Her eyes turned down. “I’m not a ‘little girl.’”
“So, stop acting like one. Don’t you know what that is? It’s an oxytocin blocker.”
“A what?”
Brigid whispered lower. “It kills your sex drive. It blocks all reactive sexual responses.”
“I-I don’t believe it,” Sharon said with not much conviction. She’d been taking that pill three times a day since her deplant and ligation at puberty.
“Well, believe it, honey. You young kids barge out of tech school all high and mighty and God fearing, thinking you know everything. I was the same way. But I also learned to trust my elders. People who’ve been in the grind longer know more. So, do yourself a favor and do what I say.”
“What are you, my big sister?”
“I might as well be, ’cos you need one. I hate to think of what kind of brainwashing procedures they pulled on you at Seaton.”
“They didn’t brainwash us,” Sharon insisted. “They simply taught us scripture between training blocks.”
“Yeah? And I’ll bet they gave you a little cup of orange juice before each scripture session, right?”
Sharon paused. “Well, yes. It was just a refreshment.”
“It was sodium athynol, you dumbass. The Army started using it in all of its youth academies back in ’184. It’s a hypnotic drug, puts you in a wake-trance and makes you susceptible to hypnotic suggestions. It’s behavior-modification, Sharon. Teaches you to be repulsed by sex. God created sex, Sharon. He made it pleasurable for a reason. But you’re letting a crypto-fascist government burn out your natural desires.”
All at once, Sharon felt neck deep in questions and rebuttals. “Even if what you say is true, it’s for my own good. Sexual congress out of wedlock is a sin.”
Brigid stifled a laugh. “Sexual congress—my God. You’ve got all the Christian Fed buzzwords beat into your head. Listen, what it all boils down to is this: if you want to stay a virgin till you get married, that’s fine, that’s great. But it’s only a Godly endeavor if you do so by your own free will. Not sub-hypnotic chemical therapy. Not mind control. That’s not the free will that God gave you. It’s medical tyranny. That’s the sin.”
Sharon’s quandary didn’t ab
ate. She felt inclined to argue but she couldn’t shake the impression that Brigid was telling the truth. “Well…aren’t you a virgin?”
Brigid snorted, not quite stifling the laugh this time. “Sharon, my hymen bit the dust back when I was fifteen, and it wasn’t from falling off a horse.”
“Well, you went to Federate school just like me. Didn’t they brainwash you, too?”
“Not allowed in Civilian Branch. That’s why I feel sorry for all you Army girls. What we had instead were CMS’s—Christian Motivational Sessions. They’d sit us all around in a big circle, show us pictures of all the sexual diseases from the old days, and yammer about how sex was a sin. I spent those sessions thinking about being in orgies.”
“Brigid!”
“Oh, and it was a hoot once I graduated to Meade Cathedral. It was an old complex, used to be a military base before Federate Intel took it over. They had water showers there, not these vapor things.” Brigid interrupted herself to chuckle. “Here’s how stupid those old sticks in the mud were. To induce us not to touch ourselves, whenever we’d go to shower block, we’d have to wash the girl next to us! Isn’t that hilarious?”
Sharon’s brow creased. “I—I don’t get it?”
Brigid leaned closer. “You know. They thought it would keep us from learning how to masturbate. So instead of masturbating ourselves, we’d masturbate the girl next to us!”
Sharon’s face remained blank. “What’s masturbate mean?”
Brigid put her face in her hands. “Jesus. Never mind.”
The conversation confused Sharon. But just as she wished for a diversion, she noticed Tom coming off the sustenance line. She waved him over. “Hi, Tom.”
“Specialist,” he greeted and sat down. He pointed to his sleeve. “Check out my new E-2 stripes. Cool, huh?”
“Yes,” Sharon said. “Now you’re only four grades in rank below me.”