Auxiliary's Revenge

Chapter 2 – Ceremonies-2

“What about the Mentarchy, sir? Any change there?”

“The Mentarch still rules its worlds with an iron fist. Our intelligence sources have reported some strange things, though. Some Reliants are getting a little... restless, I suppose you could say. Nervous, erratic, whatever. We're not sure if it's their own emotions showing through or if it's the Mentarch's emotions. Either way, it's an interesting development. We're keeping an eye on it and watching for any opportunities.”

Jerry wondered if the Mentarch's behavior was related to his encounter with it in the Temple of Kota. If he had indeed scared it, as he thought he had, then maybe it was having a nervous breakdown or something. His thoughts went back to the Paragon he had killed in the forest on Sherin Ch'taia and the reactions to the man's death from his Swayed Reliants. Some of those Reliants had fought back. Some had killed themselves. And some simply went catatonic. There was no way to predict how any single Reliant would react to suddenly having full control of his own mind. The only certainty was in the madness of the crowd. If/when the Mentarch finally broke, it would be a mania for the ages.

“Unfortunately,” Gardener said, “no matter how skittish individual Reliants get, the Mentarchy's fleets are still an enormous danger. Several of them have converged at the planet Baseband, and we think more are on their way. We think it's going to end up being a massive super-fleet that the Mentarch will send out against a single target. They hit Lightbridge once but turned back, so RI is thinking they'll try again with overwhelming strength. When we're not arguing with the Lightbridgers about Turtle Williams, we're discussing the repairs at Skybridge 2 and other preparations for this hypothesized second attack. We all agree that the situation looks grim. If this massive consolidated fleet does in fact hit there, then Lightbridge will probably fall. But until we have solid intelligence, we won't know where those ships are going or when, so for the time being, we wait.”

Jerry didn't like that at all. He'd already fought in the Battle of Skybridge 2. He'd lost men. He'd watched Lieutenant Allen Slate die right in front of him. He didn't want to go back and fight a second time for space already won with blood.

“I do have some good news,” Gardener said. “After considering your report from the Sherin Ch'taia campaign, and given our need for experienced officers, we've decided to give Lon Mason a battlefield promotion. He's a lieutenant now. We've given him command of a reorganized 42nd B Snake Platoon.”

“That's great, sir,” Jerry said. “He'll do well.”

There was a knock at the door.

Calael tensed.

Jerry noticed. It was a slight change, almost imperceptible, but he noticed. Calael's hearing was very sensitive, almost supernaturally so, and Jerry figured he could probably identify people coming down the hall by the particulars of their footfalls. That was why he hadn't flinched when Gardener arrived—he recognized the sound of the general's approach. Whoever had knocked this time must have sounded unfamiliar. And if that person looked like a threat, he had no doubt Calael would spring from his chair and murder him before anyone could blink. No one ever believed the wild stories of the Harowaith assassin-monks... until they encountered a Harowaith in person. Then the stories became all too real.

One of the Riflemen opened the door. A pair of men entered carrying instrument cases.

Calael's body language relaxed.

Jerry grinned. “Hey, look who's here!”

“Hey, Jerry,” said Bill Finch, the guitarist from Jerry's band. He set his guitar case down on the carpet and offered Jerry his hand. “Looks like you lost a tooth since we saw you last.”

Jerry shook his hand. “Yeah. Took a solid punch to the face on Sherin Ch'taia.”

“Ouch.”

“You can say that again. They tell me I'll get some kind of dental implant when the war's over.”

“Well, that's good, at least. We've been trying to visit you, but they wouldn't let us in until now. Ealdorman Brewer promised we could come up for a visit, though, as soon as the docs cleared it, and they just did.”

“That was awfully thoughtful of the Ealdorman. It sure is good to see you fellows. How's it going, Clay?”

“It's going.” Clay Ackerman, the fiddler, patted his rotund belly. “Been trying to keep in shape. Circular's a shape, right?”

Jerry laughed.

“We thought we'd play a song or two, if that's all right,” Bill said, looking questioningly at Kajora.

“I think that would be nice,” Kajora said. “But Jerry can't play along until he's back home. It might prove too taxing.” She turned to Jerry. “I don't want you singing, either.”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “I'm not made of porcelain, you know. I could play a gig tonight if I had to. You're such a wet blanket sometimes.”

“Doctor's orders. Don't worry. I'll approve you for activity soon. Just not today.”

“Fine.”

“Then let's get started,” Bill said, opening his guitar case.

Clay brought out his fiddle, and then both men launched into Homestead Blues.

Jerry didn't sing, but he sang along in his mind, grinning from ear to ear. It had been so long since he'd played with his band that he hadn't realized how much he had missed them. For the first time since leaving for the Skytower mission, he felt like he was truly back home.

Calael watched the performance with an expression of puzzled amusement.

Kajora stared intently at Clay's bow, almost mesmerized by the speed and skill with which the big man sawed the strings. She had told Jerry on Sherin Ch'taia that she had become a fan of the band after watching old videos, and her wider-than-usual eyes seemed to confirm it. Her heel stomped the carpet like a metronome, making the medical stand shake slightly.

General Gardener folded his arms across his chest and kept an impassive face, but he couldn't keep his head from bobbing along with the beat.

The Riflemen at the door smiled unashamedly, and at least one of the men knew the words, because he mouthed them silently along with the singing.

The song wrapped up, and Clay finished it with a flourish.

Kajora clapped and grinned.

“Very good,” Gardener said gruffly.

“As soon as this war's over,” Bill said, “we can get back to our usual gig routine.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jerry said. “I'm so sick of war. I'm sick of the nightmares. I don't dream about Blackshoals anymore, but I still dream. It's usually about the Nightfire now. And I don't understand that at all. All I know is that I'm ready for it to all be over. I want my peace and quiet back.”

There was another knock on the door. One of the Riflemen opened it.

An old Reliant woman entered. She was long-haired, setting her apart at a glance from the Reliants of the Mentarchy, and she wore an Agrarian dress.

“Miss Carpenter,” Jerry said, blinking with surprise. “I wouldn't have expected you to show up here. It's good to see you, though.”

“Hello, Jerry. Ealdorman Brewer invited me here to check up on you. He's such a nice man. I'm glad we have someone like him to represent Homestead in the Commonwealth. I've seen Ealdormen come and go, and we've had a lot of worse men in the office in the past, believe me.” She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to give him a hug. “I'm so glad to see you alive and back home. I was afraid you were going to die on that awful Felid planet.”

Calael c****d an eyebrow. “'Awful Felid planet'? Tread carefully, Reliant. That's close to blasphemy. Sherin Ch'taia is sacred.”

“I'm sure she didn't mean any offense,” Jerry said, hoping Miss Carpenter would confirm.

Miss Carpenter gave Jerry a smile and then turned to look at Calael. “You must be that Calael Avisherin person everyone can't stop talking about.”

“I am,” Calael said.

“Then you and I need to have a talk, young man. I hear you Harowaith are believers in the Breeder, but you've got it all wrong. The Breeder didn't intend for anyone to be an assassin.”

Calael's pupils narrowed to slits.

Jerry's mouth went dry, and there was a sudden tension in the room. He really didn't want to see his landlady get killed.

She strode over to Calael, knelt on the floor next to his chair, and patted his arm. “You poor thing. You've only been taught one viewpoint your whole life. I can show you another side of the Breeder, a side that's not about killing. His will is about love and order and other good and noble things.”

Calael appeared to be caught off guard. He looked more wary now than aggressive, and his eyes shifted from her face to her hand on his arm and back. “I'm not sure I—”

“You're capable of love. I know that for a fact. Jerry's told me a little about you. You were in love with that woman—what was her name? Sheera?”

“Shishira,” Calael said in a low voice.

“That's right. Shishira. You must have been so devastated when she was killed. I'll bet you never even talked to anyone about it, did you? See, that's where I can help. I'm an easy person to talk to. And I think Shishira would want you to talk about her, too, so you could work through the grief. Actually, there are people at church who would make even better listeners. Do they have churches on your home world?”

“Homestead is my home now,” Calael said, “but I—”

“You should visit my church,” Miss Carpenter said, “and take in a few sermons. Maybe talk to the preacher. It'll help you get over your pain. Also, I think you'll come to realize the error of your sinful ways.”

“Sinful ways,” Calael deadpanned. The look in his eyes was a little more wild now, and his gaze bounced between Miss Carpenter and Jerry.

Jerry shrugged. Matters of religious doctrine were not his specialty.

“Killing people all the time isn't the Breeder's will,” Miss Carpenter went on. “You'll see. And after church, I'll cook you a nice meal. Perhaps some good old-fashioned chicken and dumplings. We'll eat and discuss religious things. And other things, too. We'll talk about anything you want. Do you like chicken and dumplings?”

“I don't think—”

“I've got all sorts of literature, too. You'll want to read it, I'm sure. You seem like a reader. I can show you where to get started. We'll have little tests along the way, too. It'll be fun.” She reached up and patted his cheek. He flinched, almost leaping out of his chair, but she didn't seem to notice. “I don't think you're half as bad as they say. In fact, I think you're a good man at heart. You just need direction. I never had any children of my own, you know, so I always enjoy doing things for the young people. It's so easy for them to drift into bad habits. They need their elders to show them the way. You could definitely use a little enlightenment. I think I'll make you my own personal project.”

“Uh...” Calael blinked, his mouth hanging open.

Jerry bit his lip to keep from laughing. The man was actually at a loss for words. Calael had experienced all sorts of wonders and terrors from one side of the galaxy to the other, but he'd never faced anything like Ann Carpenter of Stonefell County, the Reliant who was more Agrarian than most Agrarians.

“The Breeder loves you, Calael,” Miss Carpenter said with a kind smile, “just as much as he loves anyone else. You just have to be open to that love.”

“Breeder's will be done,” Calael said weakly. It was a non-committal thing to say, but it seemed to deflate him. It sounded like a surrender.

Jerry couldn't keep it in anymore, and he clapped a hand to his mouth and laughed. The notorious Gray Death had finally met his match.

There was yet another knock on the door. One of the Riflemen opened it, and both of them immediately came to attention.

General Gardener's posture stiffened, and he saluted.

Philip Brewer, Ealdorman of Homestead, entered the room with a small entourage of people in his wake. He was a short, stocky man with a weak chin, the sort who ordinarily wouldn't warrant a second glance. He carried himself with confidence, though, a sort of calm assertiveness, and he had earned a reputation as an effective, admired leader and a shrewd politician.

Jerry saluted.

“At ease, everyone,” Brewer said. He approached the bed and offered Jerry his hand. “Mr. Harper.”

“Hello, sir,” Jerry said, shaking his hand.

“You're comfortable, I hope? The servants are taking good care of you?”

“The best care, sir. You have a magnificent home. I can't thank you enough for your hospitality.”

“It was my pleasure. I don't get out to the old home place much anymore. Not since being elected Ealdorman. My duties, you know. But hosting you here gives me an excuse to visit.” He chuckled. “And I'm always sure to sample the family label while I'm here. Once Auxiliary-Captain Kajora clears you for alcohol, we'll go down to the brewery and have a few beers together. In return, you can entertain me with some war stories. How does that sound?”