frigate, Calysta. We’d brought some big stuff too. Opposite the cluster of mantis vessels—across the black expanse of space—was a squadron of Earth dreadnoughts unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Not that size and armament would do a lick of good if those new ships couldn’t break through the mantis shields, as Adanaho had suggested. Hopefully we wouldn’t have to find out, though I still wasn’t sure anything I did or said could make a difference otherwise.
I looked over to Captain Adanaho, who had followed me to the observation deck.
“Fifteen minutes,” she said.
“That means the general wants us there in five,” I said.
She smirked at me.
“Always arrive ten minutes before you’ve been told,” I said with a slight smile, “and then it’s hurry-up-and-wait.”
“The years on Purgatory haven’t completely dulled your memory,” she said. “Though it’s obvious you’re not happy about your current position.”
I looked down at my uniform.
“No, ma’am, not really. I was nineteen when I signed up. The Fleet tried to take Purgatory a couple of years later, and then I spent the rest of my time either as a prisoner, or trying to follow through on a promise I made to my old boss before he died.”
“It must have been an important promise,” she said.
“I thought so,” I said.
“But didn’t you consider that promise fulfilled, once the armistice was reached?”
“Not really, because by then the Professor and his school kids were showing up all the time. Plus, I had more human customers coming in the door than I’d ever had before. People seemed to think the chapel was special. Significant. It grew to be a landmark in the valley. Somebody had to stick around and sweep up. And it’s not like I had anything more important to do. Maybe if the Fleet had returned right away, I’d have jumped at a chance to go home. But when a couple of years went by and it was obvious that Fleet wasn’t coming back to Purgatory any time soon, I decided to make my plans for the chapel into long-term plans.”
“And yet our research shows that you don’t hold services there,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Like I said, I’m not a chaplain. I’m just the assistant. This little silver bar you guys put on my collar, it doesn’t make me a chaplain either.”
“Would you like to be?”
I thought about it, still looking outside into deep space. Something I had not seen in many years.
“No,” I said, slipping my hands into my pants pockets. Like having facial hair, hands in pockets was also against regulation. But screw it, certain rules are made to be broken.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I’m not a preacher,” I admitted. “I’m also not a theologian.”
“So why even become an assistant? Of all the jobs in the Fleet available to you?”
“Seemed like the best fit,” I said. “I’m not a tactical guy, and I’m not that great with equipment either. But people? I like people. When hostilities with the mantes broke out, some of my friends signed up immediately. I kind of went along for the ride. It was a chance to go to space. What kid doesn’t dream about that? But I didn’t want to kill stuff nor fix stuff nor do a lot of the other work on the list the recruiter showed me.”
She shook her head.
“And yet you were the one who managed to use the single piece of leverage we needed to stop the mantes.”
“Yeah,” I said, “dumb luck, that.”
She checked her watch.
“Well, it’s time to see if you can’t scare up a little more, Padre.”
We walked from the porthole to the nearest lift car, went down three decks, and wound our way to the frigate’s largish main conference room. Marines in freshly pressed uniforms guarded the hatches, with rifles at port arms. There were some mantis guards as well, their lower thoraxes submerged into the biomechanical “saddles” of their hovering, saucer-shaped discs.
Every mantis I’d ever seen was technically a cyborg. Their
I looked over to Captain Adanaho, who had followed me to the observation deck.
“Fifteen minutes,” she said.
“That means the general wants us there in five,” I said.
She smirked at me.
“Always arrive ten minutes before you’ve been told,” I said with a slight smile, “and then it’s hurry-up-and-wait.”
“The years on Purgatory haven’t completely dulled your memory,” she said. “Though it’s obvious you’re not happy about your current position.”
I looked down at my uniform.
“No, ma’am, not really. I was nineteen when I signed up. The Fleet tried to take Purgatory a couple of years later, and then I spent the rest of my time either as a prisoner, or trying to follow through on a promise I made to my old boss before he died.”
“It must have been an important promise,” she said.
“I thought so,” I said.
“But didn’t you consider that promise fulfilled, once the armistice was reached?”
“Not really, because by then the Professor and his school kids were showing up all the time. Plus, I had more human customers coming in the door than I’d ever had before. People seemed to think the chapel was special. Significant. It grew to be a landmark in the valley. Somebody had to stick around and sweep up. And it’s not like I had anything more important to do. Maybe if the Fleet had returned right away, I’d have jumped at a chance to go home. But when a couple of years went by and it was obvious that Fleet wasn’t coming back to Purgatory any time soon, I decided to make my plans for the chapel into long-term plans.”
“And yet our research shows that you don’t hold services there,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Like I said, I’m not a chaplain. I’m just the assistant. This little silver bar you guys put on my collar, it doesn’t make me a chaplain either.”
“Would you like to be?”
I thought about it, still looking outside into deep space. Something I had not seen in many years.
“No,” I said, slipping my hands into my pants pockets. Like having facial hair, hands in pockets was also against regulation. But screw it, certain rules are made to be broken.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I’m not a preacher,” I admitted. “I’m also not a theologian.”
“So why even become an assistant? Of all the jobs in the Fleet available to you?”
“Seemed like the best fit,” I said. “I’m not a tactical guy, and I’m not that great with equipment either. But people? I like people. When hostilities with the mantes broke out, some of my friends signed up immediately. I kind of went along for the ride. It was a chance to go to space. What kid doesn’t dream about that? But I didn’t want to kill stuff nor fix stuff nor do a lot of the other work on the list the recruiter showed me.”
She shook her head.
“And yet you were the one who managed to use the single piece of leverage we needed to stop the mantes.”
“Yeah,” I said, “dumb luck, that.”
She checked her watch.
“Well, it’s time to see if you can’t scare up a little more, Padre.”
We walked from the porthole to the nearest lift car, went down three decks, and wound our way to the frigate’s largish main conference room. Marines in freshly pressed uniforms guarded the hatches, with rifles at port arms. There were some mantis guards as well, their lower thoraxes submerged into the biomechanical “saddles” of their hovering, saucer-shaped discs.
Every mantis I’d ever seen was technically a cyborg. Their
Similar Books
