Heavens of Glory

Chapter XI

It took nearly eight hours of constant ground-shaking and fear before the klaxons finally shut off. Orion had set up a game of poker with a couple of the other students a few hours into the lockdown. When the painfully loud blare suddenly dropped away, replaced by a deafening science, Orion dropped his hand on the floor. He looked over at Seedo, who in turn was already watching him.
          “I guess it’s over.” Seedo nodded his consent.
         Together they unlocked the heavy door and shoved it open. Outside the corridor was slowly opening, revealing the dozens of rooms filled with puzzled and frightened students. Down the hallway to the North the ceiling had caved in, blocking almost half the rooms from view and leaving their fates unknown.
         Orion looked back in his own room. “It’s safe. Let’s head up to the surface.” He and Seedo led the sad procession of students up the stairway to where the classrooms of the Academy lay.
         Or at least, where they had laid. The top of the spiral stairway was blocked by a massive sheet of steel. With the help of a few other upper-classmen, the sheet was moved aside and Orion stepped blinking into the sunlight. All around him stood the crumbled remains of burnt structures. The Academy had been raised to the ground.
         Orion helped Seedo out of the whole in the rubble and walked a little distance over the crumbling soot. Around him, a few other pieces of rubble were being lifted and shoved aside where the other underground hallways came up to the surface. Already there was a large crowd gathering near one end of the scene, where the mess hall had once been.
         About half of the teachers had survived the bombing. They were gathering the students to them, consoling those who were breaking down, instructing those who were aimless, and doing their best to maintain order amidst the chaotic ruin.
         Orion and Seedo searched through the crowd for as many of their friends as they could find. Maria showed up not far from where they had originally surfaced, and they found Scarth and Rilic not long afterwards. The five of them huddled together in their own private section of the wreckage, waiting…

         The dress uniforms of the Warleaders are famous for the profuse decorations which cover every square inch of material, and the clothes which Tash now donned were no exception; splendid before an assemblage of nearly five thousand Alliance citizens and soldiers, medals and ribbons of every color on the spectrum gleamed in the eyes of the gathered. The only three eyes not focused on these decorations closed for a second, then opened once again, gazing around at the massive room. The scyther Amora, with one dead eye, had been trained extensively for her new position by Tash, who, like all the Warleaders before him, had received the secrets of the raj from his predecessor. Now he had taught everything to this battle-hardened scyther so that everything could in turn be taught to the new raj. The newly-appointed raj-sen, the teacher of the raj, waited respectfully behind Tash as the great Warleader began speaking.
          “You all know why you have been called here. You are all well aware that many of you are to become a new breed of soldiers: the raj. And you each believe that you will be accepted, for in the past you have proven to be the best.
          “Be disappointed. It is likely that there is someone far better than you sitting in this room. It is likely that you will not make the cut, whether because you cannot survive the training or because you did not survive well enough.
          “Everything that follows from here, for the next six months, is pure training, and pure hell. You may think that you already know how to fight, but we will teach you to dodge bullets, to penetrate force-fields, and to kill thousands of Union soldiers within mere minutes. You will become brutal and ruthless. You will become both loathed and celebrated. And when you are finished with this training, perhaps you will become worthy of the title ‘raj.’”
         Tash paused for a split second. “And now, your training begins.” He motioned for the raj-sen Amora to step forward. Amora removed the sheet covering on the table which stood at the front of the room. On it lay a glimmering assortment of items, only a few of which were easily identifiable. The raj-sen picked them up one by one as she spoke.
          “As a raj-wreth, this will be your arsenal. We shall start with the defensive. This device shall be your power source. It has a 100 kilowatt output, variable, weighs eight pounds, and attaches to your belt. This is your personal radar screen- two pounds. Your personal visibility cloak- three pounds. This is your deployable armor- twenty-two pounds. It collapses to fit on your chest, and is capable of taking a direct hit from a S-Class missile with minimal damage.”
         Amora went on to describe the offensive weapons of the raj, moving to another part of the table: two high energy lasers; two .22 rabid-fire pistols; a high-energy pulse rifle; a short range demi-laser; a five kilojoule nova device; Ten EMP grenades; fifteen 10-kilojoule impact grenades; ten timed shrapnel grenades; and one neural suppressor.
         Amora finally arrived at the end of the table, where a large weapon lay. She picked the device up, locking it around her arm. “And you have this- the L-535 multipurpose offensive weapon, nicknamed the Zargot. This was developed specially for the raj, and I assure you that you will grow to love it. It can fire fifteen different types of ammo, from pullets to pulse shots, has a detachable extendable mace-blade, two built-in serrated blades, and two built-in ‘stickers.’” She pushed a button on the side and two millimeter-thick tubes, each sharpened to an invisible point at their end, shot out from the front.
         Putting down the Zargot, Amora continued. “These are but a small portion of the items that you will have at your disposal during combat. You will learn how to use and exploit each of them over the course of the following months.
          “Now, let’s proceed to the parade ground to begin your training.”
         Amora followed Tash as he led the five-thousand raj-elmeth, the raj-in-training, out into the open air. Above her, the light blue skies stood completely empty. No ship except for those already landed at the training facility could be found for over a light-year around.
         Tash smiled as he led the column, raising his human eyebrows in pleasure. At long last the final phase of the war had begun. Soon the Alliance would be all but invincible, and the Union would fall like tukers in a demi-laser.
         At last the end was near.
         Tash turned to leave as Amora sounded a sharp note, the equivalent of a whistle. He heard her shout something to the raj-elmeth, and they all began marching around the parade ground. As Tash went inside the facility, Amora sounded the note again, stopping the march, and yelling something into their ranks.

*           *          *

         The ‘school’ to which Orion and his companions had been sold more closely resembled an etiquette school than anything else. The headmaster, a Denesec who called himself Tri’nc’ngtingar (Orion simply referred to him as Tringar) had met Shpil, who turned out to be his son, upon his return from the city along with the three space-siders.
          “Shpil, who are these strangers?” the aging Denesec had asked as soon as the three newcomers were in sight.
          “They are new teachers for you school.”
         The Denesec waved an arm in response. “Very well. I shall see you at the evening drinking, then.” Shpil turned away and walked off down a hall lined with doors, each with a different marking on their face. Orion stood hesitantly by the older Denesec, then followed after Shpil, with Seedo and Eguria close behind. Shpil halted his slow gait near the end of the hallway, where there were four unmarked brown doors. He motioned to three of them. “These will be your rooms. They are just standard housings for now, but you may add to them as you see fit. I shall see you tomorrow, when your first lecture to the school will be held.” The Denesec walked back down the corridor. Orion examined the surface of the nearest door for a second.
          “Where’s the door knob?”
         Seedo and Eguria were also apparently having the same difficulty, until Eguria, reaching out to run her hand over the smooth surface, fell through.
         A second later, Eguria walked back out through the door, turning to examine it as she did. “They’re holographic!” She waved an arm through the door way. “Clever, too. From inside, you can see the door from pretty much anywhere within the room. A simple wave would serve as a door bell ringing.” She walked back into the room. Seedo and Orion looked at each other for a second, then followed her into the same one.
         Inside was a fairly large space with no other furnishings than a pile of green leaves in the middle of the floor. Orion couldn’t decide whether it was a bed, or food. Maybe both. Large windows surrounded the room on all four sides, a fact which was puzzling until it became apparent that they, too, were holograms.
          Seedo, however, was still concentrating on the door.
          “Remarkable, a pre-spaceflight species with holographic technology this advanced. Quite amazing. And unusual.” He reached his hand into the door in order to feel the holographic emitters. A small section of the door disappeared from around his hand as he covered one up. He smiled. “Nice.”
         Acting on a random thought, Seedo walked over to the pile of leaves and took one. He bent it into a circle, then stuck it in the door. The air within the bent leaf became empty. Orion, watching this, got the idea that Seedo could keep on doing that sort of thing for a while.
          “If you’re done playing, Seedo….”
         Seedo looked up from the door. “What? Oh, yes, of course.” He threw the leaf back onto the stack.
         Eguria, who had been looking through the fake window, turned around. “Well, not really all that much we can do, I guess, except to get some sleep. We’ll see what’s in store for us tomorrow when tomorrow comes.” Orion shrugged, nodded, and left the room, crossing the hallway to enter his own quarters.

         Halfway through the night, long after the windows had turned completely black, Orion awoke with a desperate need to relieve himself. He stood up, ready to go searching for a toilet, when a thought struck him- they probably wouldn’t even have a toilet, from the looks of them. Even if they had something that was its equivalent, it probably wouldn’t be very suitable for a human anyway. Orion could think of only one thing to do, so he looked for the main doors to the building.
         After a good quarter hour of searching, he finally found his way outside. Now desperate to answer nature’s call, he stepped up to bush. Unfortunately, as he did so, the bush stepped away from him.
         Orion took a step back, stunned. Shaking off the stupefaction, he turned around to finish what he had come out to do, not sure if the bush could actually see him. After all, Spar had said that there were no actual plants on this world- only photosynthesizing and non-photosynthesizing animals. He laughed- who would ever have worried about being spied upon by a bush?

*           *          *

         Tournia sighed remorsefully as she left her battlecruiser escort behind. Two weeks on the Phonician capital of Thir, researching half the books in the Imperial library, had given her absolutely nothing. True, she had learned much about many things during her stay on Thir, but could find nothing she didn’t already know about getting to the Andromeda. Everything that she had turned up told her that she either needed a few hundred million credits or about six months to make the normal journey through delta-space, the first of which she had no hope of attaining, and the second she doubted Orion could afford.
         As a result, when one of the librarians had asked her how long she was planning on staying, Tournia simply stood up and left. Her abducted Federation craft had been taken good care of, and had even been refueled; the Phoenicians were just a little anxious to see her leave their territory.
         Now she was back in Alliance space, having just crossed the well-patrolled border, and was trying to think of any way to get out of the inevitable trouble she would be in as a result of her actions. The best she could come up with was to avoid returning to Toan as long as possible.
         So she went to Orion’s home on Frist. She had been there only three times before, and wasn’t very sure what she would do once she got there. Her job and career were as good as over, so she wouldn’t have many ways to make good use of her time. Maybe she would help the androids in the fields. Orion had always said that there was something about manual labor which modern machines couldn’t replicate. Maybe she could make the house seem a little more lively.
         Two days after leaving Phoenician space, Tournia arrived at Frist. She had encountered no other ships on the journey, which wasn’t rare in Alliance space- the government had never bothered to build up a very large Star Patrol fleet. Frist itself was still a small planet, not yet given citizen status, so she could cruise down through the atmosphere without anyone trying to stop her. At the planet’s one spaceport, she sold the craft for some gold and silver coins, keeping all transactions physical and untraceable rather than tapping into her bank account, which the Alliance had probably emptied anyway. She then bought a small skimmer- it was the best one that was available, but still wasn’t much compared to the one she had flown on Toan- as well as some of the groceries that she would need for the next couple of weeks.
          “So, hedin anywhere special, hun?” asked the lady from whom Tournia was buying a flat of beans. It would take awhile for Tournia to adjust to the entirely non-robotic way of life on this planet.
          “Ah, no, not really,” she replied as she handed over a couple of coins. “Just visiting my boyfriend’s house out near Russel.”
          “Roossil? No kidd’n? Wow, tha’s mos’ half-way cross the planet. Hope ye got a quick way fer gettin’ there.”
         Tournia hefted the flat of beans, somewhat heavier than it should be in the noticeably larger gravity of Frist, off the counter and onto the cart, which carried all the rest of her stuff.
          “I have a skimmer prepared on the other side of the market.”
          “Ah, in tha’ case. The journey in’t too bad. Half-day, mebe.” The lady looked thoughtful for a moment. “Good squash country there.”
          “Yup, that’s what we grow.” Tournia moved off to the cart. Life was certainly different on these backwater planets from amidst the constant hustle of Toan- all the other shoppers were so carefree and seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. It was kind of a nice relief, actually, to be among such a friendly people.
          “Well, g’day to ye, hun,” the lady waved as she left.
          “And to you.” Tournia wove her way through the crowded market place back to the parking lot, which was mostly filled by ancient-looking ground vehicles. She slowly loaded all of her food into the skimmer, taking her time and enjoying the hot sun. Once everything was in, she took off and flew over the hot semi-desert towards the far side of the world.
         The brown dirt streaked to a blur two feet below Tournia as she set the skimmer on autopilot, hoping the machine was sophisticated enough to avoid any obstacles, most notably the mountains which were rapidly approaching. The skimmer lifted upwards and flew over the mountain range, emerging half an hour later over the planet’s only large body of water, the Frist Ocean. The brown blur turned to a blue streak as the Ocean expanded to fill the horizons, with only a hint of the brown shore to the North and West.
         Eight hours after leaving the spaceport, the computer gave a tentative beep, waking up from a fitful sleep. She switched the controls to manual and began slowing down. The yellow-green blue slowly resolved itself into dry farmland, with pipes of water connecting the fields and farmhouses. A massive tank surrounded by a small clutter of buildings marked the enclosed lake that served the small town of Russel.
         Tournia turned the skimmer to the south, where she could see the squash fields of Orion’s estate. The expansive house, gigantic compared to their flat on Toan, appeared a brilliant white against the ripening vegetation. She slowed the speeder even more as the house drew near, and eventually came to a hover above the pavement growing out form the house’s front. She landed and powered down.
         After all her luggage and food had been unloaded onto the ground, Orion’s fiancée walked up and opened the door- nothing was ever locked here. The inside of the house was spotless, as it should be, for no one had been in it for months. The pleasantly furnished entrance greeted Tournia’s eyes, inviting her in. Her previous visits to the house, although short and sparse, had left Tournia well-acquainted with the layout. She propped open the door with a rock, delighting in the simplicity of the act, and began ferrying the food into the kitchen, loading the items into the Preservator as she did. Once she had done that, she also brought in the other items, mainly clothes that she had bought at the market- light things, designed for the hot climate of Frist. That done, Tournia headed back down the stairs into the well-lit kitchen. She sat down at the white-painted steel table, in a ray of sunlight streaking in from a window looking out to the garden, and activated the small computer built into the metal. A small screen popped up, initially displaying the farm’s inventory.
         Tournia began typing on the keyboard and the inventory list disappeared, replaced by an image of the town covered with a few paragraphs of text. The Russel newspaper focused mostly on small-scale local events, and Tournia found herself simply skipping past most of the articles. The bottom of the page finally appeared on the screen, at which point Tournia left the newspaper site and powered off the computer.
         Tournia looked around the kitchen slowly. “Well, I’m here. Now what?”
         For the next two days, Tournia lounged around the house, finding various odd tasks to do. Eventually, however, she grew bored with this, and decided to head into town. Having donned one of the outfits she had bought at the starport two days earlier, Tournia set off down the three-grasec road into town on foot.
         The walk was a leisurely one, past rows of squash, emlion, tuker, and dozens of other grains and vegetables. Tournia took her time, resting occasionally in the heavy gravity and enjoying the scenery. The distant town didn’t seem to be getting any closer, but Tournia didn’t bother rushing. If night fell before she headed back, at least the return journey would be cooler.
         As it turned out, however, she arrived in town well before midday. It was obvious the locals could tell her for an off-worlder; her staggering, unaccustomed gate and central-sectors accent gave her away instantly. Nonetheless, they all greeted her cordially as she passed. Tournia made her way into the center of town: a small, well vegetated square surrounded by fragrant trees. The massive enclosed lake loomed behind her as she walked past the various shops which lined the square, gazing into the windows of each.
         Russel was fairly typical of most of Frist’s rural towns. It had started as little more than a crossroad where four farmers had each built their houses. It had gradually grown since then to its present size of a few thousand tenants, with a couple hundred nearby farmers coming by to sell their harvests. The walled-in lake provided nourishment not only to this town, but to most of the farmers who came by and their fields. The town council had apportioned a fair amount of this water to taking care of the plants within the town itself, providing shade and a pleasant respite for passersby.
         Tournia stepped into a bookshop, marveling at the rows upon rows of the antiquated items. Orion had always insisted that books were a waste of space and paper, and, preferring the basic logger, had never bothered to compile a physical library. Now as Tournia browsed through the store, pulling down the occasional tomb and flipping through it, she felt a growing fondness for these paperbound stories. She pulled down one final novel and began reading it. It was a newly-published work, with a fancy cover that drew the eye with its fantastically moving images. She closed the book and carried it over to the counter, offering it to the salesman as she pulled the last of the coins out of her pocket.
          “That’ll be fifteen, hun. Need anything else?”
          “No thanks.” She handed over the money.
          “So, you a big fan of Haitsin?”
          “Ah, no, not really. This ... actually… is the first book I’ve ever held.”
          “Ah, one of those people.” The clerk smiled as he waited for the computer to finalize the transaction. “Well, you made a good choice. Would you like a receipt?”
          “No thanks,” Tournia said, but then realized it would probably be a good idea to keep a record of her transactions until Orion… her thoughts faltered. “Actually, sure. I’ll take one.”
          “Alright, here you go.” He smiled again. “Enjoy.”
         Tournia’s eyes briefly jumped to the wall behind the clerk’s head as she took the offered slip of paper. An idea flickered into her mind. “Can you tell me where the school is?”
          “Yeah- head down this street here.” The salesman motioned wildly with his hand. “Take your third left an’ it’ll be ‘bout three blocks further.”
          “Okay, thanks.” Tournia took the book and headed out. She turned and waved as the door closed behind her, smiling at the prospect which now awaited her- she was going to be a teacher.
         She looked down at her newly-bought book as she walked. The cover had gone temporarily stationary, and the image which had initially caught her eye peered out. An Anaximander class ship, the same as Orion’s, zoomed across the top of the cover; below it, a Bonscout captain stood looking out at the stars.