A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 17

"Did you kill them?" Nate said, slightly horrified.

"No," Lunar laughed loud, like the thought was funny. "I would not kill my battle-sisters." She paused. "Although we do prefer training with real weapons and accidents happen."

"It's beautiful." Nate offered.

She played with her skirt's hem. "Yes, although in truth, it has become an object of shame. This skirt is worn until we won our first great battle. Not a friendly duel but a true battle, one with rivers of blood and incalculable death." Her eyes shined over. "Our battle-leader gifts our new skirt upon survival, upon victory. See these white lines?"

Nate very carefully looked directly at her skirt.

"These lines are white to signify that I haven't seen blood shed, haven't shed it. My next skirt," She breathed out hard. "That will be inlaid with glorious red."

"You haven't won a great battle already?" Nate asked. She looked like a great warrior, even though she was clearly young.

She let her hair fall across her face, but Nate caught her burning cheeks.

"Now you've done it." Lita muttered from her bed.

"I...I have disgraced my people." Lunar admitted.

Silence. Nate tried to break it. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Lunar stared at him with baleful eyes. "It is the greatest shame of my life and I cannot rest until I have given penance."

"Right, I didn't—"

"Our two rules of life are bel-lata and sel-sapen. Bel-lata is the lust and love and honor of battle. Sel-sapen is the understanding that our feelings are best discarded in the pursuit of bel-lata and pursuing glory of our people. Great athletes of war are created in the union of the two greatest warriors, great warriors understand the hierarchy of leadership, of obedience, of belonging to a greater union. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Nate said again, ignoring Lita's snort.

"Romance, rage, friendship, affection," Lunar ticked things off her fingers. "All these things get in the way of a battle unit. They make you hesitate, make you disobey orders, make you look for others in the heat of battle when you should be focused on the enemy. Countless examples — we are taught this and we obey."

"But you didn't."

Lunar bowed her head. "My battle leader. I fell for him. He told me I could be something...more. He thought we could be more than warriors."

"Well, that sounds reason—"

"He was the greatest of fools!" Lunar snapped. "Mediators battle with every muscle, every organ! He led me along a stray path when I trusted him with my training!"

Nate looked at her with wide eyes.

She swept a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing wet eyes. "I thought I loved him. I was a child, a girl trying to understand what it took to become a vasaya, a warrior woman. I was a great fool too."

"What happened?" Nate leaned forward.

"I turned him into our Inquisitors. He had betrayed our ways. They sent him away into the galaxy, an outcast forever."

"And you too? An outcast?"

She shook her head. "They showed me mercy for my honesty. They sent me here to find penance, to better understand our quest for battle."

"Fuck," Nate muttered. "Poor guy." That was a doomed love — puppy love in a fucked up society.

Lunar clenched her fist, squeezing her skirt in her hand. "He should not have abandoned our ways. It is akin to fleeing ones allies in battle. Shameful." Nate stopped himself from smiling — despite her words, there was a softness to her voice.

She must have seen something on his face, for she scowled. "I am stronger than that. This...battle unit accepted the plea from my people, promised that I would find true knowledge of battle, would get the chance to honor myself against the insect warriors. I shall be victorious and return to my people as a great warrior, a vasaya."

She stared at him, eyes hard, challenging him to disagree. He just smiled. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

She grunted, smoothing down her skirt. "Despite your abysmal showing today, I understand that you have won many a mighty battle. This is to be expected, because of your age."

Lita snorted.

Nate scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why does everyone keep saying I'm old?"

"Is it true?"

"I have won my fair share, I guess." He remembered the kids he'd failed to save more than the bugs he'd killed, but there'd been a lot of bugs. And a lot of kids. Letters written to grieving parents. Door-knocks. Holo-calls. Mothers and fathers. Sobbing, angry, silent, screaming — he'd seen them all.

She lit up. "Tell me your tenets of battle, I beg you." She was beautiful always, but in her passion...

Nate swallowed. "My...?"

"Your pillars, your tactics, tips, the foundations you fight on." She explained impatiently.

"Oh," thought Nate. And thought some more. What did he tell his boys?

"Don't hesitate." He started. That was the main one. "Go into the day knowing you are going to kill, quick and hard and strong."

"Mmm." She made a noise like she'd bitten into her favorite dessert.

"Don't take pleasure in the kill, but you can take pleasure in the...well, the decisiveness. It sounds stupid but it helps me if I think of myself as a decision-maker, not a killer. Like, I'm going to wrap-around, I'm going to punch through the flank, I'm going to rescue my center column, I'm going to achieve the main objective. That's me making decisions — whatever is in the way. Just an obstacle? I guess that's Fed boot camp trying to make hard killers from young boys, but it stuck with me."

"Yes, yes." She nodded, her cheeks shading pink.

"And never battle back to front," He nodded to himself. That's what he told his company, his boys. "Not unless you have superior numbers. No matter how good your kill team is, how big you are, a boulder that only rolls forward still gets stuck."

"Of course." She clapped her hands like a happy child. "What else?"

"Well," He'd done a lot of training on the years. Faces who listened, those who didn't. The ones that lived had taken into account his most important lesson. "I have a stupid saying that my boys used to laugh at me. They'd do impressions of me saying it. But I didn't mind, because it meant they remembered it."

"Tell me."

Nate shook his head, shook away the memories. "Cover is your mother."

She grinned. "What does that mean?"

"Well, when you first get out, you look for her. She shelters you. Treat her well and she'll last you forever. Don't leave her unless you're sure you can make it on your own. Go back to her regularly. And when you're in trouble, really, really in trouble, just dive for her embrace."

"I like that. Cover is your mother." She echoed.

Nate nodded to himself, picking up steam. "Cover is the most important thing in battle. It can be made, moved, rolled, blown apart."

"Tell me more." Lunar ordered, sliding her legs under herself.

"Count the bugs killed and the lives saved and try..." Nate swallowed. "Try not to linger on the ones that didn't make it. The boys that...yeah. The bullets you miss. No point thinking about it." He smiled sardonically. "No point crying over spilt milk, as they say."

Lunar nodded sagely. "Wise advice. Milk comes from a woman's breast so is always at hand."

"Right, yeah." Nate's brows furrowed. Lita's metal bed squeaked as she shook from laughter.

The Mediator gazed at him, seeing him with new eyes. "I sense the great thrum of your battle heart, Nathan Clancy. I look forward to seeing it in action. I shall leave you to rest and hope you dream of righteous bloodshed."

"Uh, yes, you too. Thanks, Lunar."

Nate kicked back on his bed as she left, closing his eyes to shut out the light. Isabelle dutifully reduced his hearing intake to drown out the chatter in the dorm as Graziano and Hakeem argued about something.

He did his best to ignore the slight throb of his cock in his pants.

Whatever was happening to him, it was getting worse. Constant erections. The slightest bit of flesh driving him mad. Dreams of debauchery and conquered submissive women.

What could it be?

The thought came unbidden, as much as he tried to hide it away from his mind-mate.

It had all started with Isabelle.

*That's not fair, I've never—*

*I know. I know. I wouldn't be alive without you.* He thought honestly. *But it doesn't change the fact that it started with you.*

He could almost feel her bristle.

*I've had sex before without them turning into my dream girls. Trust me, women didn't have any difficulty leaving me.*

In his mind, she crossed her arms. Jeans and a hoodie — he really was in dangerous territory.

Nate tried again. *In our first...encounter, you said that even then, my...production was extreme. You said that connected could have awoken something in me. Do you still not remember anything about your past?*

*I remember flashes of feelings. I remember being wiped. I remember being put into the gem. But nothing else.*

He sighed.

*But I am also sure that I am not...a harmful AI, Nate. I have thoughts and feelings and I want to protect you and I...yeah. I feel good with you and Ana and...*

*I get it. I'm just...*

*Scared?*

And wasn't that the truth of it? He was flying by the seat of his pants, aimless, lost. Reckless.

*It's okay, Nate. We're here for you. Ana will be back before you know it.*

He readjusted his pants. Ana would make everything better. His beautiful Lunari. He hoped she was faring better than him.

***

Jarek smashed his fist down, his desk splintering, a piece of wooden pulp dropping to the floor.

"Incompetent fool. Try harder." He swiped away the holo-call and took deep, steady breaths. The anger wouldn't help him. It wasn't even a setback — just some idle revenge against the human who'd sought to remove him from the Judge programme.

That had been a blow. The freedom and the power to act as he willed had made life a lot easier. But both freedom and power could be attained in all sorts of ways.

The news of his banishment had travelled fast, even though it hadn't been made public. The Judges didn't want news about a betrayal, so they'd be sending a hit team after him, no doubt. And the blasted Bugs, useless in all ways, weren't responding.

If only they'd taken the Princess in the first place, this all could have been avoided.

But the plan continued.

His ship jostled a little as it was caught by the metal tentacles of a ship-docker.

"ID 43952, ship-class Showmaker, confirm travel reason." The staticky voice sounded over the ship's intercom.

Jarek threw back his legs, hands behind his head. "Oh, just transporting some fine food for the Federation Jubilee. You'll note the Merchant medallion on my ship-scan, no?"

"I didn't see—" The intercom cut off suddenly and Jarek almost laughed. Whispers. "It's gold, you idiot, it's gold!"

The intercom sparked up again. "So sorry, sir, we do apologize for the security. We'll get you moving right away."

"Quite alright." Jarek waved it away, even though he couldn't be seen. "Is all this new, then?"

"Yes, sir. Security for the Jubilee."

"Expecting trouble?"

"No, sir. Just in case."

"I'm glad to hear my delicacies will be well protected."

"Thank you, sir. Security clamps removed now, sir. We hope you have a smooth flight."

Jarek didn't bother replying, engaging the auto-pilot absently as the ship console flashed with an incoming call. For a moment, his stomach clenched — was it the Bugs?

Then, the Lunari noble's face. Elathariel. This time, smiling.

"Jarek!" The Lunari cheered.

"Elathariel." He said simply. "You have news?"

"Just a quick call. I'm landing on Mal Fortoros. The Princess has returned, just as I said she would. I've already asked the Queen for a meeting."

"Then we must hope that your charms are not lost," Jarek smiled thinly.

"Not to worry," Elathariel threw his head back and with it, his long blond hair. "I've brought her gifts, jewellery, perfumes, dresses. The Princess will bow and bend and break."

"I shall leave it to you then."

"Any news from our...friends?" The Lunari smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, Jarek noted.

"The plan moves ahead, a ship in still seas." Jarek toasted.

"Nautical metaphors." Elathariel rolled his eyes. "Rather dated, don't you think?"

"You've never boated?"

"Quite the opposite. My people immerse themselves in water — we swim and dive and bathe and frolic." He pursed his lips. "Personally, I've always preferred the stars to the seas."

"To exploring the stars?" He held up his glass.

Elathariel snorted. "You needn't pretend to be a shining beacon to me, Jarek."

Jarek felt his ears grow hot. Perhaps the loss of his Judge status had clouded his judgment a little. "You're right, of course." He cleared his throat. "To conquering the stars."

They toasted.