Chapter Eleven: Rough Stones — Part 4

The Commissions cheered and left. The Honor Combatants stood, still at attention, wondering why they had been singled out.

Enforcer Alpha smiled at their discipline. “Relax troops, training’s over and you’re on leave. I think you all know that we have three years to get one hundred thousand troops up and ready for battle. If I had the raw materials, I’d freeze the lot of the cadets as they came of age, and thaw them out for training, then drop them back in the ice chest again. It would save food and resources. But instead, we have mouths to feed, and cryochambers to produce. Since all of you have the honor of being the best, you get the best for your troops. The lists you’ll be getting are different than the lists just handed out to the others.

“The best troops, in this case, will be in for the hardest, most desperate aspect of the upcoming mission. You will be leading those troops, as will I. Should we come up against an organized opposition, our units will face the greatest risk of casualties and loss. Because we’ll be leading the toughest front liners against the most hostile and dangerous of targets, we get perks that the others do not. In exchange for our greater likelihood of dying, we get a little pampering in the meantime. This temple can hold a thousand troops easy, and your troops are going to be trained within the temple walls. Not in the tents, not with the grunts and support troops.

“It will give you seven the chance to work together, to tear your troops down and build them up with each other as a support system. Also, unless somebody in those tents down there really shines, you can expect the six new First Classers to rise up through your ranks. You’re all free to spend your two days anywhere you choose, but I’d like you all to get acquainted with the temple and its facilities. This temple and its resources are yet another benefit of graduating as Honor Cadets, and of being chosen for the hardest, deadliest mission any troop attacking another planet can be expected to accomplish. Anybody here have a guess of what that mission is?”

Combatant Dovo answered. “Preemptive Ground Area Security.”

Charles nodded. “Yes, we will be in charge of securing the grounds for the ships, and of getting the one hundred thousand troops conscious and mobile for the assault. We will have to hold that ground even though our enemy will be attacking us the second they know of our presence. While your eighty some odd fellows will have to sleep either in mass quarters or with their own recruits, you seven intelligent, disciplined individuals will have your own quarters to return to during your sleep sessions. These are your identification cards. Each of your rooms is identical, so there’s no need to switch around. But if you should want another room, please let Satrap Johnson know. You’ll find your rooms on the west wing. Inspections will be performed a variable number of times weekly, always at random. You are all dismissed.”

The six other recruits left quickly, and Seva realized she was the only one still standing in the garden. She stood there a moment longer, wondering if she had suffered a seizure or something. She had not noticed her other recruits wandering off, any more than she had really been hearing the Enforcer’s words. She took her identification card and placed her thumb on the black square. An audible beep signaled that it had personalized itself to her, and would not allow entry of anybody but the Enforcer or the Satrap into her quarters without her permission. She decided to check out her room, which proved far grander than she expected. She walked along polished amber-marble hallways to a smaller, gray stone side entry. Beyond the door, a small room with a closet, a privy, and a modest, functional bed greeted her. The ensemble was more than Seva had ever imagined being able to call her own. She set her gear on the unmade bed, and assessed the room. Stepping in front of the closet, she put her possessions away. After making her bed, she stripped out of her single-piece uniform and sat down on the edge of it, enjoying for the first time a sense of ownership. The blanket was cotton, and the mattress firm, without springs, but the linens, towels, blanket, even the pillow had her name and number stamped onto them. She could call them, for the duration of her service to the Cynosure, hers. Servants, she would learn later, would bring her fresh blankets, sheets, and pillows daily, and replace her uniforms within an hour of her dropping them in the laundry hatch. In time she would wonder why she never met these servants, and in time again, she would forget about them entirely.

Seva looked around the room, her eyes taking in every detail around her. A computer terminal hung from the left wall, suspended at about chest height. Though it had access only to those programs necessary to her work, it was also stamped with her name and number. Her bed served double function as a chair, as there were no chairs at all in the room, and she could pull the entire computer over the edge of the bed so she could work while seated, and monitor her troops while away. A small refrigerator sat in the corner, holding about two weeks worth of food packets. She would be able to choose solitude or eating in the cafeteria with everybody else. Such simple pleasures made her smile to herself. A knock at her door brought Seva back to her senses. Seva realized that she hadn’t closed her door. She looked up, surprised to see Enforcer Alpha staring back at her.

“Do you like your quarters?” Enforcer Alpha’s voice was warm and resonant; it reverberated through Seva’s room.