BACK   

= FAR WARS =

a novel in the Empire of Time series

by John Argo

Chapter 2: Tulearth

6.

It is the historical privilege of Tellerine's 569th Civil Defense Squadron to lead these rituals, in remembrance of the twelve saints whose names are engraved on the memorial, along with the names of 10,000 martyrs. The marchers forming up far below are all women, wearing distinctive gray-and-maroon battle fatigues. With shouted commands, their line surges forward. They have a unique marching style for this one special event. Three hundred form a wide crescent across the avenue by linking their arms over their neighbors' shoulders for the heroes' walk. This will take them along the sacred way, across the glassy ground that was once the Bay of Lue, toward a towering obelisk. The scarred face of the valley says it all. It was not long ago a fiery battlefield on which a former popess and her generals died. The former ocean bay now reveals a mottled glass surface that is solid and inset with white impactor splashes. On the obelisk, which rises into blood-red, plasma-yellow sunset clouds, are inscribed the names of ten thousand martyrs, among them our twelve saints.

The specially chosen 300 inheritors of the 569th CDS battle unit form a tightly linked line across the avenue. They push their shoulders eagerly forward while holding each other. They thrust their chins forward, as if seeking a fight, while they pull each other forward and support each other. They march slowly and gracefully in unity, with high-kicking steps. Each has a lamplight embedded in the point of each boot-toe. In unison, 300 lights slowly rise while another 300 lights fall, and they do this in perfect cadence to show the strength of the one out of many. The distance from Holy Mother's throne to the obelisk is a ceremonial mile of 3000 such steps.

Accompanying the march is a slow, solemn rendition of a primordial song of Old Earth, Telgrafin Tellerine, played with mournful dignity by the massed bands and pipe corps of all Tellerine and Corduwaine military units. These bands stand in cloud-like arrays across the dusky lake bed, with their helmets gleaming in the evening sun, and their cloaks rippling in a gentle breeze. They leave clear a straight path (the Sacra Via) between throne and obelisk, after kneeling before the Holy Mother for Her blessing. The popess, in all her majesty, looks distant and tiny in her golden vestments and peaked crown; she watches with intent stillness while holding twin ivory scepters crossed over her heart.

The known galaxy is filled with our kind, though the Swarm and the Inversion have tried to kill us off. We will never go away. Our song will never end. That is the meaning of the solemn march of the young cadets holding each other by the shoulders in solidarity. They slowly high-step across the lake bed with rising and falling stars before their toes to guide them. Above all, the military priestesses and sacred agents do not fear death in the great Nostra Causa. Holy Mother has traveled here to bless these sacred rites. We will never forget. That is our promise to Her, and to the ten thousand names on the obelisk. Numquam Hac—Never Again Like This—reads the legend on the Bay of Lue in the Sea of Blue.

This night, more than ever, tears stream down my eyes—and my wife's—as we think of those who are gone so that we may live, and we think of who the woman is on the throne behind us, the new servant of the servants of the divine, sister of all humankind.

TOP

Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.