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Christopher
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She ran a finger over his name on the screen and whispered, "Don't wait. I'm
not worth it."
Chapter 12
Vega Sector, Day-Douglas Border
CS Olympus
Enroute to Aloysius System, Robert s Quadrant
2654.088
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2200 Hours Confederation Standard Time
After they had set down on theOlympus 's flight deck, Blair and Paladin had
remained in their seats while the supercruiser made another jump. During that
moment, Blair had once more experienced the indistinct figure that rose from
the darkness, calling his name in a feminine voice, stroking his cheek, and
reaching for him. However, the image had seemed brighter, the voice clearer as
though with each contact he drew closer to the person.
With the jump completed,DeckBossTowers had given them permission to egress.
When they had popped the hatch, they had been met by a pair of heavily-armed
Pilgrim Marines. The Marines' dress had immediately struck Blair as odd: long,
white robes tied at the waist by olive drab sashes and covered by breastplates
of armor and conventional ammo belts. Combat boots had been replaced by
loose-fitting sandals. Confederation Marines typically wore standard issue
C-524 space armor, single piece units donned via an opening on the left side.
Equipped with C-532 life support systems, the suits afforded them the ability
to operate in a multitude of environments and struck a familiar image with all
military personnel. These Pilgrim Marines looked like a pair of monks wielding
C-47 ballistic assault rifles instead of the holy books of Ivar Chu. Despite
their dress, they did brandish the same badass attitudes as non-Pilgrim
Marines, and that characteristic even Ivar Chu McDaniel could not educate or
"enlighten" away.
Hands raised, he and Paladin had shifted down the loading ramp and into
supercruiser's aft flight deck, once a meager housing for twenty or thirty
fighters and bombers, now a spectacle of recently added runways, aprons, and
berths that extended nearly two hundred meters longer than the Tiger Claw's .
Rapiers and Broadswords stood in rows that stretched so far into the distance
that Blair had blinked to make sure he had not witnessed an illusion. Still,
the rows were spread wide apart, and there probably weren't more than sixty or
seventy fighters. Even as Paladin continued to scrutinize their enemy's strike
potential, Blair had taken note of the dozens of techs who also wore robes and
sandals similar to the Marines, though their jobs were identified by different
colored sashes rather than by the color-specific coveralls worn by Confed
personnel.
"What's with the costumes?" Blair had asked Paladin. "Looks like a martial
arts academy in here."
"Pilgrims are all about tradition, and this one was obviously adopted from
other cultures and religions. The robes are ceremonial reminders of oneness,
of purity, of simplicity, and they're made of ko'a'ka . Produces a calming
effect similar to tobacco."
"They don't look calm. Just ridiculous."
That remark had caused one of the Marines to jam his muzzle between Blair's
shoulders. Wincing from the pain, Blair had wisely decided to remain silent
for the rest of the trip to the brig. Along the way, they had been met by the
scowls and cutting remarks of dozens of robed crew members, and though Blair
shared their ancestry, he felt alienated by these people; however, they
couldn't know his mother had been a Pilgrim.
The group had finally reached the brig, a narrow, utilitarian chamber with
six cells on each side of the passage. There, Blair and Paladin had sat for
hours, highly entertained by the dura-steel walls and the buzz of sparse
lighting. Blair's only visit to a cap ship brig had been during the standard
walking tour. Naval brigs hadn't changed much over the centuries. You had your
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walls, your bars, your sweet-smelling sink and toilet. You wouldn't find
sophisticated energy barriers or hyperlined plumbing in Confederation brigs, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]