Open Arms, page 13
part #7 of On Silver Wings Series
Her audience seemed shocked by that for a moment before Egrid broke the silence again.
"I would not have imagined such a thing was possible," he said, frankly stunned.
Kriss grumbled, "The Ross'El are noted for doing many things thought impossible...things that any sane universe would see as impossible."
Sorilla grimaced slightly, another set of memories flashing to her. "They're as close to demons as I've ever met, Padre...though I think what makes it even worse is that I don't believe they're actually evil. Just so disconnected from the world as we understand it that they don't see us as thinking beings. And because communication is all but impossible with them, no one can convince them otherwise."
"You are kinder toward them than most Alliance members," Kriss said, darkly amused by that.
"The Alliance suffered through a much nastier war with them than we did." She sighed, shaking her head. "It's not important. You have a magnificent cathedral here, Padre."
Egrid looked at her evenly for a moment before reluctantly nodding. "I think it is anything but unimportant, but I thank you for the compliment on the premises."
"I was telling Dalton earlier that it may be unmatched by any I've seen, save perhaps Vatican City, and I think that still holds, but the interior is more stunning than even that," she said, examining the stained glass that filtered the external light into the massive space within.
"You've been to the Vatican?" Egrid asked, surprised. "Our histories seemed to imply that it would likely be overrun by nonbelievers by now."
Sorilla laughed. "Still its own sovereign state, Padre. The power of the church isn't what it once was, that's true enough, but the core remains."
"That is good to hear," the padre said as they walked down the stone floor of the cathedral, toward a panoramic art display that swept from the floor to ceiling, encompassing everything in between.
Sorilla examined it silently, noting that it told the story of the colony as it left Earth and crossed the intervening space. She examined the images from Earth, unsurprised that they showed scenes of war and tragedy. The scenes of the crossing were filled with biblical references, and the world of Arkana was depicted interestingly as well.
She looked at the image of the world from orbit, noting that they'd shown it as barren except for one dot of green. That was not strictly true, not now anyway, but there was no doubt in her mind that the river delta she currently stood on was that point of green.
A new Eden then, Sorilla supposed.
"Beautiful," she said aloud as she recorded the entire mural for later analysis with her implants.
"It is but our humble declaration of intent before the Lord God," Egrid said, actually managing to sound humble as he did.
Sorilla smiled at him, admiring the honest and earnest belief the man held.
She'd met a lot of "men of God" over the years, some good...most mediocre...and a few as bad as any men she'd ever known. The good ones always left her in a state of awe like little else. There was something about a good man in the service of the Lord that brought out the best in ways that few other callings did.
"The Alliance willing," Sorilla nodded to Kriss, "I would not be shocked if you saw pilgrims arrive in the future, just to see this place. You've done something I've not seen matched on any other world, Father. This is an accomplishment to be proud of."
"Pride is a sin in the eyes of the Lord," Egrid said softly, but he was smiling. "We did what we were called upon to do. No more and no less."
There was nothing more to say, so she just bowed slightly as the group continued their tour of the cathedral. Sorilla paid closer attention to the people watching them, particularly their reactions to Kriss. The church was impressive, but the social data she was gathering was invaluable. Still, she couldn't help but let her gaze linger for a moment on the carved swastikas set on either side of the cross for a moment, only just able to disguise her grimace as a smile that she knew must have looked pained.
They were exiting the church when Dalton received a call, the timing almost making Sorilla snort, as his radio had chirped almost the moment he'd stepped outside. He quietly separated himself from the group, speaking low enough that most people wouldn't have a chance of hearing him.
He clearly wasn't used to dealing with enhanced humans. The implants in every single SOLCOM operative were more than capable of isolating sounds--speech most certainly--and amplifying it.
Chapter 9
"Yes, what is it?" Dalton growled, knowing just who was calling and plenty unhappy with the man because of the mess he'd been put into the middle of.
"The Elder would like to meet your guests."
"I don't suppose you have a better plan than the last one?" he asked, sarcastic. "You know, the one that nearly got us all killed."
"They were clearly not looking for trouble, Ranger. The threat of death on your part was low," Grant assured him calmly. "Eri wishes to meet with them, now."
"No clever plot this time, then?" Dalton demanded. "I just invite them?"
"That will be fine, yes."
"Well thank the Lord for his smallest mercies," Dalton snorted. "I'll extend the invite. If they refuse, however, I'm not trying to force the issue."
"They will not," Grant said calmly. "They're here to gather information. Refusing the invitation would go against their mission."
"Information for what?" Dalton hissed, suddenly concerned.
"That isn't any of your concern."
"Like hells it isn't!" he growled sharply. "I'm the lead Ranger here and--"
Grant cut him off. "A position that can easily be filled by someone else. Elder Eri will be at the Red Room."
The signal went dead, leaving Dalton glaring at his radio, his knuckles tightening around the device until they were white from the pressure. He finally relaxed a bit and loosened his grip before slowly returning his radio to its pouch and turning back. He forced a smile he didn't feel, approaching the group of off-worlders.
"I've been informed that one of the colony Elders would like to meet with you," he told Sorilla directly.
She didn't look surprised as she nodded slowly. "That would be fine. It would be rude to refuse, after all."
"I suppose it would," Dalton said, gesturing to his patrol vehicle. "I'll run you over there, of course, and ensure you have transport back to your own vehicle. The Elder is waiting at the Red Room."
*****
The Red Room was apparently something of a local centerpiece itself, Sorilla decided as she noted that the care taken with the finishing of the building that proudly proclaimed the name was very near, if not matching, the quality of the work done of the Cathedral of Arkana itself.
The building itself was imposing, less Gothic than the cathedral, more with a Roman quality to it. Like many other buildings of import she'd recorded, the heavy symbolism around it was thick with religious and political iconography.
Sorilla paused as they approached it, examining the statues on either side of the approach with care.
"The ship's captain," Dalton told her as she looked at one, a hint of real reverence she'd not even heard in the church as he gestured to another, "and the Founder himself."
Sorilla had seen both men's file photographs, and doubted that either of them had ever looked as good as they were portrayed in the local stone carving, but she certainly wasn't going to tell the Ranger that.
On Earth, they were both considered monsters. Here, they're almost Gods.
The universe had a strange sense of humor, she rather thought as she walked past the two statues and up the broad stairs, past roman pillars. Perspective is everything.
Big wooden doors opened as they approached, a man in a dark suit stepping out to greet them.
"Welcome to the Red Room." He bowed his head, almost hiding a grimace as he took in the combat gear most of the men were wearing and failing completely as he looked over Sorilla herself. "Your host has set aside rooms for you to refresh yourselves. Suitable clothing will be provided."
It's going to be one of those days, Sorilla thought, much more successful at hiding her own grimace.
"Thank you." She nodded curtly back, sweeping past him with a disregard she would normally not even consider, recognizing the shift in culture they were walking into.
She was more of a specialist in what many would consider the more backward cultures on Earth. Living in the field, eating what you killed...in many ways those were where she felt most at home. That didn't mean she hadn't studied others, however. Often one could be taken by surprise by how quickly one could go from a field camp to some hopped-up general's ball where being polite to the wrong person was a sign of weakness.
All things considered, Sorilla had always preferred the field camps, but she knew her way around both.
*****
"So," Eri said as he watched from the upper level, "these are the Earthers then."
"Yes, sir," Grant said simply. "Don't be fooled by the woman's appearance, sir. She is...formidable."
"Indeed." Eri nodded. He'd seen the video of the incident, and had been impressed. His family had been known to hire some of the best gunslingers on Arkana in their day, but he'd never seen speed like that.
He rather wished that they'd been able to get recordings of her in actual action, as he would like to know how her accuracy with her guns compared to those in his employ.
An idea, perhaps, he supposed.
"She is rather...interesting," he said finally, undecided whether he considered her attractive or not. "You've seen to providing them with appropriate clothing?"
"Of course."
"The Xeno as well?" Eri said, lips curling slightly.
Grant hesitated, but nodded finally. "Yes, sir."
"I know it's distasteful, Grant, and I agree...however, needs must, always."
"Yes, sir."
Eri sighed, putting that aside for the moment. "Ensure that her clothing is of fitting quality. Send in a proper seamstress."
Grant had expected that, knowing his employer's preferences. "Already ordered."
The Elder, a young man of thirty, smiled.
"You know me too well."
*****
The interior of the Red Room showed where the building had gotten its name.
Thick red carpets and tapestries filled the hall; gold accents on most surfaces made the color pop against the slight reddish hue of the local stone and sand the place had been built with. Sorilla had been in more ostentatious locales in her day, but not many.
"This way, lady, gentlemen...sir," the butler, she supposed he had to be, said, only slightly sneering at Kriss as he directed them.
Sorilla said nothing, merely followed along as they were led into an antechamber for a luxuriously appointed suite. Doors off to either side led to private rooms, and she could see, with a glance inside, that each had their own baths. It was a nice suite, there was no question.
"Madam will find what she requires in the room to the right. Sirs will find supplies in the left," the butler said firmly, backing out the door and closing it behind him.
"Well, this is interesting," Sorilla said with a crooked grin, glancing around as she spotted all the listening devices currently transmitting.
There were at least nine in the main room, and she assumed that video was covered as well. Well, it was hardly the first time she'd been the star of someone's private videos.
"Corporals," Strickland gestured to the pair, "check and clear the rooms."
The two nodded and split up, not quite bringing their weapons up as they entered the rooms to either side.
"It seems like a formal affair, ma'am," Strickland said. "Not quite what we were expecting."
"Not surprising," she said. "They'll want to put us off balance."
Not to mention get us out of our armor, she subvocalized and pulsed to him.
"It is good tactics." He nodded before subvocalizing his next words and pulsing them back. Do you think they know the armor is powered?
Sorilla shrugged. "We've been here before."
Unlikely, however, we'll leave the grunts in the rooms to guard it, she returned via the pulse com. Be sure to secure yours to biometrics.
"Right," Strickland responded to both statements in one.
"Clear on this side, sirs, ma'am," Nicky said from the left room.
"Same here," Corporal Hardy said from the right.
"Okay, good. The major and Sentinel Kriss will be with me," Sorilla said. "You will stay with the gear. No one touches our kit, clear?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Sorilla sighed. She didn't like dropping the armor in what amounted to possible enemy territory, but if that was what the mission called for...so be it.
A knock on the door almost made her start, and she half turned. "What is it?"
The door opened and a slim, redheaded woman stepped in, bowing her head.
"I've been sent to help you dress, ma'am."
Of course her instinct was to tell the woman that she hardly needed help dressing, but Sorilla stomped down on that firmly. She nodded instead and gestured into the room. "Thank you. I'll be with you shortly."
The redhead quickly entered, giving Kriss in particular a wide berth as she darted for the room on the right.
"Here's hoping that doesn't mean they have some insane ball gown I need help to get into waiting for me," Sorilla scowled, much to the amusement of her men and the slight confusion from Kriss. She looked around at them. "Well? Get to it then."
They split up, Strickland and Kriss to the left while she went right. The others took positions, guarding each door in turn. Neither side let the door close as they started getting ready.
*****
Strickland was mildly impressed, but unsurprised by the suits waiting for Kriss and himself. They were of classic-cut--men's fashion rarely changed, in his experience--and these would have fit in reasonably well in most upper society affairs on Earth. That wasn't what impressed him, however.
What impressed him was that the suit prepared for Kriss was reasonably fitted.
"They either work very quickly, or they've entertained Lucians before," he said, examining the cut of the clothing.
"They have not, to my knowledge," Kriss said, "and I would know."
"Impressive, then... They must have been planning it," Strickland said. "But it's still a neat feat."
His own suit was rather obviously cut a little large. They'd not compensated enough for the armor, though they had clearly tried.
Well, he'd worn worse.
Strickland killed the magnetic seals on his armor.
*****
Sorilla swept the room, and the young redhead, carefully. It was clean, aside from the monitoring devices, of course. She didn't even get a hint of the accelerant on the redhead, which, if she was right about that hyperspectral spike, meant that the girl was unarmed.
No gun at least. Still a rather large list of other items she could be carrying.
No venom or toxin spikes either, aside from the ever-present, low hydrogen-cyanide spike that seemed inherent in the world now that she knew to look for it.
The red dress on the bed caused her to raise her eyebrow, however.
"I'm pretty certain you don't have my size right," Sorilla said, mildly amused. She might have been insulted by the clearly oversized dress, but she understood where they'd screwed up.
Guessing dress sizes was tricky at the best of times; doing it through powered armor was basically impossible. She shucked the poncho she'd been wearing over her armor, tossing the garb to the floor as she killed the magnetic seals on her armor.
"I think I'll need a belt," Sorilla laughed.
"I'll make alterations as needed, ma'am," the redhead said quietly. "Do not worry about that."
Sorilla cast a skeptical eye in her direction, but figured one way or another she'd deal with it. She reached up and pulled the chest piece away from her body, a sucking sound filling the room as the oxygenated gel that connected the suit's multiple internal sensors to her body tried to keep from giving up its grip on her flesh.
The redhead's eyes widened as she saw Sorilla's naked chest within the armor, darting to the open door wildly. She started moving, but Sorilla reached out and caught her.
"The door stays open."
"But...but, ma'am..." The redhead looked panicked.
Sorilla shook her head. "It stays open. Look, what's your name?"
"I...I..." she stammered. "Rebecca, ma'am."
"Hello, Rebecca, I'm Sorilla," Sorilla introduced herself. "I know this is strange for your culture, but I'm a soldier. There's very little about my body I'm worried about hiding, otherwise I'd have killed the spying devices your boss put in here."
Rebecca's eyes widened even farther, something Sorilla was honestly shocked at, and she looked slowly around. "Spying...?"
"Full video and audio," Sorilla nodded. "So trust me, I'm not worried about my own men catching a glimpse. So just relax and breathe slowly."
The girl looked like she wanted to hyperventilate, but finally just nodded and seemed to calm down. Sorilla took that as a good sign and finished shucking herself out of the armor, feeling a lot like peeling skin off, and then walked naked into the bathroom while leaving a trail of blue oxygenated gel in her wake as the armor stood there on its own, open and dripping on the carpet.
The shower felt decent. She kept the water cool as she rinsed the gel off, then washed the sweat out of her hair. Rebecca was waiting for her when she stepped out, a towel in hand and the dress hanging on the door.
"Thank you." Sorilla accepted the towel and started to dry herself off.
Rebecca grabbed another towel and moved up behind her, forcing Sorilla to step down hard on the instinct to grab the girl and clear enough room between them to reach her weapons and bring them into play. Instead she let the girl wrap the towel around her head and start vigorously drying her hair.
"Rebecca," she tried, "I can dry myself."
"It's my job, ma'am."
Sorilla sighed, but that was enough to stop her from complaining any further. She wouldn't get in the way of a professional doing their job; that just wasn't acceptable behavior unless it was on mission.
