Mike Sutton's Blog: For prose apply within. - Posts Tagged "future"
Pamplet
Are you looking for the safest and most effective way to enclose and protect your city in our modern era? Laugh at those wild fluctuations of weather that come with each turning season. Set aside your snow plows and laugh whenever a tornado touches down in your vicinity!
The Human Habitat Dome is available now!
For Residents of a Human Habitat Dome the interior climate is completely under your control. Winter Parkas will be a thing of the past as your inhabitants stroll around in balmy 26C year round! They will be protected from all outside forces.
Our Human Habitat Domes are engineered in three circumferences. 5 kilometers. 10 Kilometers. And 20 Kilometers.* To provide a maximum amount of living space for your citizens' needs! We provide two basic configurations of the HHD, Open Space and Pre-Leveled#. As well as packages that can mix and match the two. Whatever you can dream up, our engineers can match. GAURNTEED!
The standard Foundation is a ring of steel reinforced concrete that reaches up to 50 meters in width and height. Bunkers, tunnels and guard posts can be cast into the Foundation Ring to meet your defensive requirements. The HHD can be outfitted to perform as a fortress or a prison depending on your NEEDS.
A team of our finest engineers can be surveying your town today!
Now for some of the standard features of the HHD:
The outer hull of the HHD is composed of a high-tech ceramic composite that is resistant to nearly everything that Mother Nature might have up her sleeve, up to light meteorite impacts. We've even tested it against some of the most modern tools in humanity's arsenal.
The frame has been manufactured to withstand Hurricanes up to Class 6, and Earthquakes as powerful as 9.7 on the Richter Scale.
We know how to keep your inhabitants safe. And they will appreciate that in the future!
The hull plates of each HHD is also covered in a thin film of our 3281 IR Absorbent Micro-plastic Coating. Each 5 square meter panel of the dome will produce 1 megawatt of electricity per year, rain or shine! Enough to provide for the power needs of many tens of thousands of residents. And if you envision your power needs to be more intense, we can also fit the HHD with a wind farm of powerful wind turbines mounted at every outer joint!
We can even contract out for Civilian Standard Fusion power stations^.
Contact us now and your citizens could be enjoying the HHD experience before the decade is out!
*Measured at the base.
#Prices subject to change. See diagrams below.
^Upon Federal approval.
The Human Habitat Dome is available now!
For Residents of a Human Habitat Dome the interior climate is completely under your control. Winter Parkas will be a thing of the past as your inhabitants stroll around in balmy 26C year round! They will be protected from all outside forces.
Our Human Habitat Domes are engineered in three circumferences. 5 kilometers. 10 Kilometers. And 20 Kilometers.* To provide a maximum amount of living space for your citizens' needs! We provide two basic configurations of the HHD, Open Space and Pre-Leveled#. As well as packages that can mix and match the two. Whatever you can dream up, our engineers can match. GAURNTEED!
The standard Foundation is a ring of steel reinforced concrete that reaches up to 50 meters in width and height. Bunkers, tunnels and guard posts can be cast into the Foundation Ring to meet your defensive requirements. The HHD can be outfitted to perform as a fortress or a prison depending on your NEEDS.
A team of our finest engineers can be surveying your town today!
Now for some of the standard features of the HHD:
The outer hull of the HHD is composed of a high-tech ceramic composite that is resistant to nearly everything that Mother Nature might have up her sleeve, up to light meteorite impacts. We've even tested it against some of the most modern tools in humanity's arsenal.
The frame has been manufactured to withstand Hurricanes up to Class 6, and Earthquakes as powerful as 9.7 on the Richter Scale.
We know how to keep your inhabitants safe. And they will appreciate that in the future!
The hull plates of each HHD is also covered in a thin film of our 3281 IR Absorbent Micro-plastic Coating. Each 5 square meter panel of the dome will produce 1 megawatt of electricity per year, rain or shine! Enough to provide for the power needs of many tens of thousands of residents. And if you envision your power needs to be more intense, we can also fit the HHD with a wind farm of powerful wind turbines mounted at every outer joint!
We can even contract out for Civilian Standard Fusion power stations^.
Contact us now and your citizens could be enjoying the HHD experience before the decade is out!
*Measured at the base.
#Prices subject to change. See diagrams below.
^Upon Federal approval.
Sunday Breakfast
“Day and time!” Angela declared as she kicked off the covers. She was already regretting the previous evening.
“Sunday. 8:40 AM.” Angela sat up and got out of bed. She made her way through the clutter and pulled aside the blackout curtain that covered her tiny window. The warm, diffused glow of full day was upon the city as the skyscape warmed up. She could already see the clouds collecting on the horizon as the light began to dim.
Right on time.
In twenty minutes the downpour would begin. Right now she needed to break her fast with some protein and carbs. Angela's stomach growled to urge her on in making her decision. Her cupboards were empty as usual.
Angela jumped into the shower and sluiced herself off and made herself more presentable to the outside world. By 8:50 AM and she was on the street and walking briskly towards her favorite slop shack just off of SSW and Ring Seven. Level Sixteen, Unit B Prime. One level up from her own apartment and only a kilometer off.
Minutes ticked by and the sky grew darker and swirled overhead. It was how Angela imagined a storm at the far distant sea to look. How the stories had described them. Angela checked her time piece. Angela stepped inside and walked over to the counter. The cook nodded to her. She nodded back and held up her hand. She'd have her usual.
There was a new reader on the Network. She was prettier than the last, her voice more pleasing. She was relating a story about a team of Soldiers who had valiantly sussed out a nest of outcast vermin in a basement in the third ring. The outcasts were to be humanely relocated and introduced into various wholesome vocations across the city's several farm complexes, where they would be a boon.
The outcasts' handlers were to be recycled once they were judged to be guilty.
The clock turned over to 9 AM and the gates opened.
She watched the cleansing as she waited for her meal. A river of water was pouring off of the walkway. In moments the streets below would be a raging torrent half a meter deep. The water would scour away any filth that had accumulated in the last week. The cook set a bowl down in front of her with a final nod. Angela picked up her spoon and saluted before tucking in.
Breakfast Mixture Four. The specialty of the house, and the one thing that kept Angela coming back to the little corner shop. It filled her nutritional needs perfectly, providing the sensation of satiation as well as an abundance of energy. Didn't taste too bad either.
She was about a quarter the way through the bowl when the television flickered and went black. And instant later it lit back up and a nose appeared. The camera panned out, revealing a face and then a figure robed in red silk robes. Pontiff was on for his weekly meeting. The lights went out as the patrons and staff stood up and turned towards the nearest screen.
Angela stood up with alacrity, rising before nearly the rest of the room and nearly knocking over the seat of her stool. She locked her eyes on the screen and smiled broadly. But not too broadly.
“My children.” The Supreme Vicar said, holding out his arms for an embrace. All around her, people returned the gesture. Angela was among the first to rise. It was part of the ritual. Pontiff continued. “How I love you all, and as your beloved and humble leader I wish on every one of your heads happiness and the eternal smile of our Heavenly Father. May he always look on us with Grace and divine Favor!” Amen, the flock responded in near unison, bowing to their leader. “Please stand and we shall begin.”
He spoke on the Prophet's Parable of the Empty Vessel. A favorite subject of the Pontiff lately.
“And the Prophet climbed upon the stone and faced his cohorts. And loudly he spoke, instructing them as the crowds began to gather! A wise man had seven pots in his kitchen which were full of pure nutritious oil. And seven pots in his kitchen that were full of tainted, rancid filth. Seeing this, he commanded his servant to carry forth the unclean pots and pile them in the midden heap away from the house! But the servant was greedy, and instead he took the tainted pots to the market and sold them, casting them out into the world to wreck havoc on the unwary. When the Wise man discovered the betrayal of his despicable servant and declared his life forfeit for all time for his crimes against his master and his fell men.”
Pontiff took a deep breath as he chanted the last words of the parable. He stared into the camera for a moment, his eyes boring into the minds and souls of the viewers on the far end. Burning away their will with the intensity of his gaze. “We should always follow the laws of our society, as they are wise and well thought out and meant to protect us from the harrows of the chaotic world outside out fine barrier. Remember, that only those who were full of the Prophet's teachings were to be accepted into the flock and be allowed to live amongst us. Anything else is to invite disaster.”
They took a break to sing the hymn Abide With Us. There were some mellifluous voices in the cafe. Angela spoke along to keep her lips moving, barely above a whisper. She knew the words as well as any, but her vocal talents did not live up to her name.
Finally Pontiff began his closing remarks.
“Remember the teachings of our esteemed Prophet. If they are not saved by my grace, then they are nothing in the eyes of the Lord, and should be nothing in your eyes either. Though our bodies shall be returned to whence they came, our immortal souls will join Him in paradise. I expect to see you all at Service, with your tithes in hand, when your schedule permits.” He bowed his head slightly and the screen went black. The cafe bowed back and stopped for a moment of silent prayer.
Somewhere during the Service, the rain had stopped.
Angela tasted her first spoonful of the gruel. The unexpected extra It was cold. It tasted good. The mixture satisfied her hunger. Angela waved her right hand over the scanner and paid for her meal , plus a small gratuity. She stepped into the growing foot traffic, intent to take a walk for her morning exercise.
“Someone stop him! He destroyed my image of the Pontiff!” A woman screamed from somewhere up ahead on the path. The crowd was parting like a river around a boulder. Someone was pushing through, and they were moving fast. The progress halted and the boulder fell into place as the opening grew larger. The runner had been caught. Angela was almost close enough to see the commotion, and she could hear yelling. She watched the ruckus out of the corner of her eye as she passed. The Mercenary was careful to appear focused on where she was putting her feet as she followed the flow of traffic.
The man was screaming as he fought to free himself from the strong grasp of the Rangers. The soldiers were silent as they worked, a marked contrast from their quarry. “Pontiff's a tyrant! A tyrant! We will not bow to such a power mad monster! Fight against him! Do not listen to his lies! They have corrupted the words of the Prophet to feed their own profit!” A powerfully built man held the Heretic by the arms while another took a handful of hair and pulled his head back. The man screamed and then began his chant again, until the officer finally managed to slip the gag into his mouth.
The man thrashed and fought as he was dragged away. Traffic opened up around him. Eyes staring forward as the people enjoyed their Sunday recreation.
Angela kept walking until she reached the relative safety of her apartment.
“Sunday. 8:40 AM.” Angela sat up and got out of bed. She made her way through the clutter and pulled aside the blackout curtain that covered her tiny window. The warm, diffused glow of full day was upon the city as the skyscape warmed up. She could already see the clouds collecting on the horizon as the light began to dim.
Right on time.
In twenty minutes the downpour would begin. Right now she needed to break her fast with some protein and carbs. Angela's stomach growled to urge her on in making her decision. Her cupboards were empty as usual.
Angela jumped into the shower and sluiced herself off and made herself more presentable to the outside world. By 8:50 AM and she was on the street and walking briskly towards her favorite slop shack just off of SSW and Ring Seven. Level Sixteen, Unit B Prime. One level up from her own apartment and only a kilometer off.
Minutes ticked by and the sky grew darker and swirled overhead. It was how Angela imagined a storm at the far distant sea to look. How the stories had described them. Angela checked her time piece. Angela stepped inside and walked over to the counter. The cook nodded to her. She nodded back and held up her hand. She'd have her usual.
There was a new reader on the Network. She was prettier than the last, her voice more pleasing. She was relating a story about a team of Soldiers who had valiantly sussed out a nest of outcast vermin in a basement in the third ring. The outcasts were to be humanely relocated and introduced into various wholesome vocations across the city's several farm complexes, where they would be a boon.
The outcasts' handlers were to be recycled once they were judged to be guilty.
The clock turned over to 9 AM and the gates opened.
She watched the cleansing as she waited for her meal. A river of water was pouring off of the walkway. In moments the streets below would be a raging torrent half a meter deep. The water would scour away any filth that had accumulated in the last week. The cook set a bowl down in front of her with a final nod. Angela picked up her spoon and saluted before tucking in.
Breakfast Mixture Four. The specialty of the house, and the one thing that kept Angela coming back to the little corner shop. It filled her nutritional needs perfectly, providing the sensation of satiation as well as an abundance of energy. Didn't taste too bad either.
She was about a quarter the way through the bowl when the television flickered and went black. And instant later it lit back up and a nose appeared. The camera panned out, revealing a face and then a figure robed in red silk robes. Pontiff was on for his weekly meeting. The lights went out as the patrons and staff stood up and turned towards the nearest screen.
Angela stood up with alacrity, rising before nearly the rest of the room and nearly knocking over the seat of her stool. She locked her eyes on the screen and smiled broadly. But not too broadly.
“My children.” The Supreme Vicar said, holding out his arms for an embrace. All around her, people returned the gesture. Angela was among the first to rise. It was part of the ritual. Pontiff continued. “How I love you all, and as your beloved and humble leader I wish on every one of your heads happiness and the eternal smile of our Heavenly Father. May he always look on us with Grace and divine Favor!” Amen, the flock responded in near unison, bowing to their leader. “Please stand and we shall begin.”
He spoke on the Prophet's Parable of the Empty Vessel. A favorite subject of the Pontiff lately.
“And the Prophet climbed upon the stone and faced his cohorts. And loudly he spoke, instructing them as the crowds began to gather! A wise man had seven pots in his kitchen which were full of pure nutritious oil. And seven pots in his kitchen that were full of tainted, rancid filth. Seeing this, he commanded his servant to carry forth the unclean pots and pile them in the midden heap away from the house! But the servant was greedy, and instead he took the tainted pots to the market and sold them, casting them out into the world to wreck havoc on the unwary. When the Wise man discovered the betrayal of his despicable servant and declared his life forfeit for all time for his crimes against his master and his fell men.”
Pontiff took a deep breath as he chanted the last words of the parable. He stared into the camera for a moment, his eyes boring into the minds and souls of the viewers on the far end. Burning away their will with the intensity of his gaze. “We should always follow the laws of our society, as they are wise and well thought out and meant to protect us from the harrows of the chaotic world outside out fine barrier. Remember, that only those who were full of the Prophet's teachings were to be accepted into the flock and be allowed to live amongst us. Anything else is to invite disaster.”
They took a break to sing the hymn Abide With Us. There were some mellifluous voices in the cafe. Angela spoke along to keep her lips moving, barely above a whisper. She knew the words as well as any, but her vocal talents did not live up to her name.
Finally Pontiff began his closing remarks.
“Remember the teachings of our esteemed Prophet. If they are not saved by my grace, then they are nothing in the eyes of the Lord, and should be nothing in your eyes either. Though our bodies shall be returned to whence they came, our immortal souls will join Him in paradise. I expect to see you all at Service, with your tithes in hand, when your schedule permits.” He bowed his head slightly and the screen went black. The cafe bowed back and stopped for a moment of silent prayer.
Somewhere during the Service, the rain had stopped.
Angela tasted her first spoonful of the gruel. The unexpected extra It was cold. It tasted good. The mixture satisfied her hunger. Angela waved her right hand over the scanner and paid for her meal , plus a small gratuity. She stepped into the growing foot traffic, intent to take a walk for her morning exercise.
“Someone stop him! He destroyed my image of the Pontiff!” A woman screamed from somewhere up ahead on the path. The crowd was parting like a river around a boulder. Someone was pushing through, and they were moving fast. The progress halted and the boulder fell into place as the opening grew larger. The runner had been caught. Angela was almost close enough to see the commotion, and she could hear yelling. She watched the ruckus out of the corner of her eye as she passed. The Mercenary was careful to appear focused on where she was putting her feet as she followed the flow of traffic.
The man was screaming as he fought to free himself from the strong grasp of the Rangers. The soldiers were silent as they worked, a marked contrast from their quarry. “Pontiff's a tyrant! A tyrant! We will not bow to such a power mad monster! Fight against him! Do not listen to his lies! They have corrupted the words of the Prophet to feed their own profit!” A powerfully built man held the Heretic by the arms while another took a handful of hair and pulled his head back. The man screamed and then began his chant again, until the officer finally managed to slip the gag into his mouth.
The man thrashed and fought as he was dragged away. Traffic opened up around him. Eyes staring forward as the people enjoyed their Sunday recreation.
Angela kept walking until she reached the relative safety of her apartment.
Buggery and the Lash
Alister stood at attention along with the rest of his company. First Sergeant Reynolds was walking back and forth like a caged wolf. Before the three ranks of evenly spaced soldiers. He was in full dress and regalia – very official for the parade grounds. Alister and his cohorts exchanged wondrous glances when they had first taken notice some two hours before when they were first ordered out onto the parade grounds.
Sergeant Reynolds was looking especially surly, and he had only grown more so since he had begun his pacing. The soldiers could sense that something big was about to happen. Alister stole a glance at the Captain and the rest of the officers. They were all standing at attention and allowing First Sergeant Reynolds to do the heavy work. A matter of discipline. It must be. But for what? What infraction would call for the full company to fall out on the parade grounds, for the First Sergeant and the Officers to dress in their finest uniforms?
What would drive Reynolds to cut a trench into the artificial grass with the multiple passes of his feet.
Finally he stopped and faced the company with a grim countenance. “Corporal Punishment! Front and Center!” Alister sighed as an ox of a man took a step forward out of the line of soldiers and jogged over to where the sergeant stood. He had been tagged with the byname Corporal Punishment, he had been born Benjamin Harrison Stone. The Soldier was a the progeny of a proud family.
Stone stood at full attention and saluted the sergeant. The Sergeant glared into Stone's chest. Reynolds wasn't a short man. Part of the Stone's fame was purely physical. Tall and broad shouldered with handsome faces, blonde hair and blue eyes. They were Poster Fodder and beloved by the masses on the other side of the Wall.
Stone new this and took advantage wherever he could.
“Well Private,” Sergeant Reynolds began, “You have failed to control your base urges and have Crossed Over and Taken a girl. Not only that, you have gotten the victim with child. You have committed a crime against the Church, the Rangers and this Company. You have shamed your fellow soldiers by disregarding Seventeen Dash A of the Rules and Codes of Conduct of the Rangers.”
The man-child giggled from nervous relief.
“Do you think that this affair is humorous Private? You are about to take the full brunt of the Law of Heaven.” The Sergeant stated in a strained whisper that carried across the parade grounds. His face had hardened and all of the heat had drained from it. Alister guessed that his eyes were burning with rage behind his mirrored sunglasses.
Stone ignored the warning glare and began to slouch as if the worst were behind him. Clearly he didn't know his regulations or his law. He was a strange boy from a strange family. His father had been one of the most highly decorated officers in the Rangers. A man who was toted to be the Hero of his generation. He had forged some powerful connections over the three decades that he actively served. As a Hero with powerful friends, he had been given a certain amount of leeway in his life.
His son hadn't earned the privilege. His father had been soft on the boy. A pity. He was a decent soldier.
“What do you think Sargeageddon?” The man standing to Alister's immediate right asked. “Twenty lashes? And then the rest of his life as KP?”
Alister spoke without moving his lips. “I don't think that he'll escape so easy as that.” The soldier gasped.
“Harsh, don't you think?”
“I think they're going to charge him with rape.”
“Rape?” Gonzales asked in a harsh whisper. “You were there! That girl nearly ripped his clothes off him. Girls are always after Stone. The man is too pretty!”
“Those of us who were in attendance might even get a few stripes ourselves.”
“Oh hell. Are you serious?”
“Miscegenation is forbidden Corporal. She was Laborer and he's Soldier. The only way it could have been worse is if the girl had been a Seer. He should have tried to gain the attentions of one of the Coteries.” Stone's mother had been a Seer, but since Stone had followed his father's path, he was officially a Soldier.
“Coteries? Who ever sees one of them out here? Even when we're allowed inside, face time is precious.”
“That's not the point. He broke one of the founding laws.”
“Yeah, but usually they just destroy the offspring of mixed unions don't they? And then flog the parents too. But just a light punishment.”
“I don't know.” A pair of burly MPs sandwiched Stone and then skinned him, leaving him hanging in the nude before shackling him, stuffing a gag in his mouth and finally leading the dumbfounded private away.
There was a lesson here, and the officers made sure that their grunts didn't miss a beat.
The Captain took the Sergeant's place and addressed the company. “Punishment will commence in one hour's time before all ranks of the West Gate Garrison. You will wear your Greens with all commemorations and decorations present. You will be spotless. You have forty-five minutes to prepare. Dismissed.” Alister and his platoon separated from the company and humped it quick down into the tunnels that ran underneath the base of the Shell where their barracks were nested. Where the Rangers were housed.
“Well,” Gonzales started, “That is exactly why I only fool around with Derelict girls when we're off duty.”
“You have some dangerous friends Corporal. They might knife you in your sleep. It's happened before. Derelicts and Soldiers don't mesh well. In the end you might be ordered to sweep your bunk buddies up. Would you be able to handle that?” It was a twitchy question, and Alister felt that he knew the answer already. No matter, Gonzales changed directions again and wandered down a familiar path.
“Do you ever wish that you had been born in one of the other Orders? I mean, besides the Derelicts, but they don't really count as a Order. I do. Or hell, why did I have to be so exceedingly good at soldiering and violence as a sprout, and get myself sorted into the Rangers? What would it be like just to have been ordained into internal security? At least then, I would be able to spend some face time with the Coteries. Like those fellows over in the Special Squad? They have those sharp uniforms.” Gonzales studied his calloused hands. “I think that I could put my hands to much better use as a mechanic than a rifleman. I always wanted to know how machines worked.”
“You have your M-7.” Alister responded by rote. He rarely listened to the bulk of Gonzales' ramblings. “You must know that inside and out by now. And the Enforcer. And of course the SM-4. All the improvements that you made to the squad's equipment have been adopted by the entire company. Corporal, you clearly have talent in the area and might be a greater asset to the entire Brigade as an Armorer. If you want, we can talk to the Captain about getting you into the Armory division.”
“I was hoping for something else Sergeant.”
“You want to be a machinist and this may be your only way to achieve that dream Corporal. The Rangers get to keep you without rocking the boat and making the Council nervous. Everyone wins. At least, nobody loses.”
Gonzales sighed. “Yeah, I guess. What about my fireteam?”
“We'd find someone from the company to fill in.”
“Not Jenkins! Sorry, my fault. Didn't mean to insult you. Just not Jenkins.”
“Were it up to the Sergeants, Jenkins would spend the rest of his service mopping the floors of the head. But Generals don't always listen to Sergeants.
“Sergeant. Sergeant. Sergeant. Yeah, that's a funny word. Sergeant.” Gonzales was babbling as he furiously polished the bottom button on his tunic. “How do I look? Did I get everything?” He asked as he stood up to reveal his full splendor. The uniform was slightly tight, several months of relative inactivity had packed a couple extra kilo's of fat onto his frame.
“Acceptable Corporal. Now kindly go and check your squad. We have five minutes before we're due to review. You are responsible for four men. And they seem to be distracted.”
Across the barracks some of the men were yelling back and forth. “No way!”
“Totally true!”
“No it isn't. Not a chance!”
“Will happen!”
“War Hero Stone won't let his son die!”
“The Prophet's Balls he won't!”
Corporal Gonzales called them up short before the argument came to a head. “What is going on here?”
“Simmons thinks that the Council will force General Stone to execute his own son. I think Simmons is mad.” More yelling and Alister lost the thread. Nerves were high, they had all liked Younger Stone. He was arrogant and at times obnoxious, but he strove to live up to his father's legacy. All without being foolhardy and reckless.
He was a fine soldier.
The Sergeant didn't say anything, but Simmons was right. According to the regs, seeing Hero Stone executing his offspring wasn't a possibility, it was probable. Only his status before the people of Indy kept him from being punished too. Alister held that tidbit to himself. Life was hard in the Rangers, and sometimes it was almost as hard as life outside the dome.
Alister's squad formed up and joined Second Platoon. Second Platoon took it's own place in the Company. The Company joined their Battalion in the procession around the parade grounds. The Regimental Orchestra was present, instruments in hand. There was no music, aside from the rhythmic stampede of 2600 pairs of boots. The music would come later.
The West Gate Garrison was formed into a semi-circle around the parade grounds. A scaffold had been erected in two levels, on top was the majority of the officer's corps centered on the Chaplin Commander. The officers wore their grimmest expressions.
With a nod from the Chaplin Commander, Colonel Ford stepped forward and away from the rest.
The Colonel waved his hand and the band began to play with energy and enthusiasm. First the Ranger's March, then the Song of the Prophet and finally the Hymn to Mother Indy. Festive and lively songs that got the blood pumping. The music stopped suddenly, like a rug being pulled out from underneath the listeners. Alister's ears started ringing form the sudden silence.
“Bring out the prisoner!” The Colonel ordered. Stone was pried out from whatever little hole the guards had stuffed him into. He was completely nude and soaking wet. His eyes had been Opened. The halter had been strapped to his head. The prisoner stumbled as the MPs paraded him before the formations. The MPs dragged him onwards and up to his place to the scaffolding.
The Colonel stepped back and was replaced by the Chaplin Commander. Stone was forced down onto his knees. One of his guards took hold of the metal halter and yanked it, forcing the prisoner to stare up at his persecutor as final judgment was handed down.
“Private Stone. You have flaunted the Prophet's Seventeenth Doctrine and willfully broken Her Covenant with her Children! In doing so you have Violated an innocent in the most savage and Ungodly manner. These crimes, having been perpetuated underneath our very noses has Shamed the Rangers to their very bones.”
Private Stone, true to his family legacy, held his silence as the blows began to rain down like stones of ice from the sky. The shriek of the leather Cat against his bare flesh gave way to a wet slap as his skin was torn away.
Eventually the unfortunate soldier known as Corporal Punishment broke down and began to cry. “Please! End it!” He begged with a shattered sob. “Please.” His voice tapered off and then was broken by sobs. That call was the most mournful and aching sound that Alister had ever heard and it cut him to the core. The Chaplain Commanded took a step back and nodded to one of the officers. A hole formed around General Stone. He didn't seem to notice. All of his attention was focused on his son.
General stone was given a knife with a long, curved blade and then pushed towards the shuddering and weeping remains of his child. He walked with a slight limp, his back was straight to the point of rigidity. He looked neither left or right as he gripped the handle of the knife.
“General, do your duty to the Prophet and Her People.” The Chaplain Commander said. The father leaned over his son and then in one swift and merciful stroke, drew the blade across his throat, nearly severing his head.
“Very good General! You remembered your duty to God and the State.” Finally, the Chaplain Commander turned to the Rangers as they stood at attention. “For the rest of you, you are not innocent in this. You are all guilty in this man's crimes. From here on, all Rangers will be restricted to base when not on duty. By order of the Council. You will now return to your regularly scheduled training and duties. If you have loved ones, I suggest that you write to them tonight before mail call. It may be the last chance you get. Mark my words Soldiers and remember them as if they came from Her lips. Your own punishment will begin soon, and you will cleanse away the worst of your sins with blood.”
Sergeant Reynolds was looking especially surly, and he had only grown more so since he had begun his pacing. The soldiers could sense that something big was about to happen. Alister stole a glance at the Captain and the rest of the officers. They were all standing at attention and allowing First Sergeant Reynolds to do the heavy work. A matter of discipline. It must be. But for what? What infraction would call for the full company to fall out on the parade grounds, for the First Sergeant and the Officers to dress in their finest uniforms?
What would drive Reynolds to cut a trench into the artificial grass with the multiple passes of his feet.
Finally he stopped and faced the company with a grim countenance. “Corporal Punishment! Front and Center!” Alister sighed as an ox of a man took a step forward out of the line of soldiers and jogged over to where the sergeant stood. He had been tagged with the byname Corporal Punishment, he had been born Benjamin Harrison Stone. The Soldier was a the progeny of a proud family.
Stone stood at full attention and saluted the sergeant. The Sergeant glared into Stone's chest. Reynolds wasn't a short man. Part of the Stone's fame was purely physical. Tall and broad shouldered with handsome faces, blonde hair and blue eyes. They were Poster Fodder and beloved by the masses on the other side of the Wall.
Stone new this and took advantage wherever he could.
“Well Private,” Sergeant Reynolds began, “You have failed to control your base urges and have Crossed Over and Taken a girl. Not only that, you have gotten the victim with child. You have committed a crime against the Church, the Rangers and this Company. You have shamed your fellow soldiers by disregarding Seventeen Dash A of the Rules and Codes of Conduct of the Rangers.”
The man-child giggled from nervous relief.
“Do you think that this affair is humorous Private? You are about to take the full brunt of the Law of Heaven.” The Sergeant stated in a strained whisper that carried across the parade grounds. His face had hardened and all of the heat had drained from it. Alister guessed that his eyes were burning with rage behind his mirrored sunglasses.
Stone ignored the warning glare and began to slouch as if the worst were behind him. Clearly he didn't know his regulations or his law. He was a strange boy from a strange family. His father had been one of the most highly decorated officers in the Rangers. A man who was toted to be the Hero of his generation. He had forged some powerful connections over the three decades that he actively served. As a Hero with powerful friends, he had been given a certain amount of leeway in his life.
His son hadn't earned the privilege. His father had been soft on the boy. A pity. He was a decent soldier.
“What do you think Sargeageddon?” The man standing to Alister's immediate right asked. “Twenty lashes? And then the rest of his life as KP?”
Alister spoke without moving his lips. “I don't think that he'll escape so easy as that.” The soldier gasped.
“Harsh, don't you think?”
“I think they're going to charge him with rape.”
“Rape?” Gonzales asked in a harsh whisper. “You were there! That girl nearly ripped his clothes off him. Girls are always after Stone. The man is too pretty!”
“Those of us who were in attendance might even get a few stripes ourselves.”
“Oh hell. Are you serious?”
“Miscegenation is forbidden Corporal. She was Laborer and he's Soldier. The only way it could have been worse is if the girl had been a Seer. He should have tried to gain the attentions of one of the Coteries.” Stone's mother had been a Seer, but since Stone had followed his father's path, he was officially a Soldier.
“Coteries? Who ever sees one of them out here? Even when we're allowed inside, face time is precious.”
“That's not the point. He broke one of the founding laws.”
“Yeah, but usually they just destroy the offspring of mixed unions don't they? And then flog the parents too. But just a light punishment.”
“I don't know.” A pair of burly MPs sandwiched Stone and then skinned him, leaving him hanging in the nude before shackling him, stuffing a gag in his mouth and finally leading the dumbfounded private away.
There was a lesson here, and the officers made sure that their grunts didn't miss a beat.
The Captain took the Sergeant's place and addressed the company. “Punishment will commence in one hour's time before all ranks of the West Gate Garrison. You will wear your Greens with all commemorations and decorations present. You will be spotless. You have forty-five minutes to prepare. Dismissed.” Alister and his platoon separated from the company and humped it quick down into the tunnels that ran underneath the base of the Shell where their barracks were nested. Where the Rangers were housed.
“Well,” Gonzales started, “That is exactly why I only fool around with Derelict girls when we're off duty.”
“You have some dangerous friends Corporal. They might knife you in your sleep. It's happened before. Derelicts and Soldiers don't mesh well. In the end you might be ordered to sweep your bunk buddies up. Would you be able to handle that?” It was a twitchy question, and Alister felt that he knew the answer already. No matter, Gonzales changed directions again and wandered down a familiar path.
“Do you ever wish that you had been born in one of the other Orders? I mean, besides the Derelicts, but they don't really count as a Order. I do. Or hell, why did I have to be so exceedingly good at soldiering and violence as a sprout, and get myself sorted into the Rangers? What would it be like just to have been ordained into internal security? At least then, I would be able to spend some face time with the Coteries. Like those fellows over in the Special Squad? They have those sharp uniforms.” Gonzales studied his calloused hands. “I think that I could put my hands to much better use as a mechanic than a rifleman. I always wanted to know how machines worked.”
“You have your M-7.” Alister responded by rote. He rarely listened to the bulk of Gonzales' ramblings. “You must know that inside and out by now. And the Enforcer. And of course the SM-4. All the improvements that you made to the squad's equipment have been adopted by the entire company. Corporal, you clearly have talent in the area and might be a greater asset to the entire Brigade as an Armorer. If you want, we can talk to the Captain about getting you into the Armory division.”
“I was hoping for something else Sergeant.”
“You want to be a machinist and this may be your only way to achieve that dream Corporal. The Rangers get to keep you without rocking the boat and making the Council nervous. Everyone wins. At least, nobody loses.”
Gonzales sighed. “Yeah, I guess. What about my fireteam?”
“We'd find someone from the company to fill in.”
“Not Jenkins! Sorry, my fault. Didn't mean to insult you. Just not Jenkins.”
“Were it up to the Sergeants, Jenkins would spend the rest of his service mopping the floors of the head. But Generals don't always listen to Sergeants.
“Sergeant. Sergeant. Sergeant. Yeah, that's a funny word. Sergeant.” Gonzales was babbling as he furiously polished the bottom button on his tunic. “How do I look? Did I get everything?” He asked as he stood up to reveal his full splendor. The uniform was slightly tight, several months of relative inactivity had packed a couple extra kilo's of fat onto his frame.
“Acceptable Corporal. Now kindly go and check your squad. We have five minutes before we're due to review. You are responsible for four men. And they seem to be distracted.”
Across the barracks some of the men were yelling back and forth. “No way!”
“Totally true!”
“No it isn't. Not a chance!”
“Will happen!”
“War Hero Stone won't let his son die!”
“The Prophet's Balls he won't!”
Corporal Gonzales called them up short before the argument came to a head. “What is going on here?”
“Simmons thinks that the Council will force General Stone to execute his own son. I think Simmons is mad.” More yelling and Alister lost the thread. Nerves were high, they had all liked Younger Stone. He was arrogant and at times obnoxious, but he strove to live up to his father's legacy. All without being foolhardy and reckless.
He was a fine soldier.
The Sergeant didn't say anything, but Simmons was right. According to the regs, seeing Hero Stone executing his offspring wasn't a possibility, it was probable. Only his status before the people of Indy kept him from being punished too. Alister held that tidbit to himself. Life was hard in the Rangers, and sometimes it was almost as hard as life outside the dome.
Alister's squad formed up and joined Second Platoon. Second Platoon took it's own place in the Company. The Company joined their Battalion in the procession around the parade grounds. The Regimental Orchestra was present, instruments in hand. There was no music, aside from the rhythmic stampede of 2600 pairs of boots. The music would come later.
The West Gate Garrison was formed into a semi-circle around the parade grounds. A scaffold had been erected in two levels, on top was the majority of the officer's corps centered on the Chaplin Commander. The officers wore their grimmest expressions.
With a nod from the Chaplin Commander, Colonel Ford stepped forward and away from the rest.
The Colonel waved his hand and the band began to play with energy and enthusiasm. First the Ranger's March, then the Song of the Prophet and finally the Hymn to Mother Indy. Festive and lively songs that got the blood pumping. The music stopped suddenly, like a rug being pulled out from underneath the listeners. Alister's ears started ringing form the sudden silence.
“Bring out the prisoner!” The Colonel ordered. Stone was pried out from whatever little hole the guards had stuffed him into. He was completely nude and soaking wet. His eyes had been Opened. The halter had been strapped to his head. The prisoner stumbled as the MPs paraded him before the formations. The MPs dragged him onwards and up to his place to the scaffolding.
The Colonel stepped back and was replaced by the Chaplin Commander. Stone was forced down onto his knees. One of his guards took hold of the metal halter and yanked it, forcing the prisoner to stare up at his persecutor as final judgment was handed down.
“Private Stone. You have flaunted the Prophet's Seventeenth Doctrine and willfully broken Her Covenant with her Children! In doing so you have Violated an innocent in the most savage and Ungodly manner. These crimes, having been perpetuated underneath our very noses has Shamed the Rangers to their very bones.”
Private Stone, true to his family legacy, held his silence as the blows began to rain down like stones of ice from the sky. The shriek of the leather Cat against his bare flesh gave way to a wet slap as his skin was torn away.
Eventually the unfortunate soldier known as Corporal Punishment broke down and began to cry. “Please! End it!” He begged with a shattered sob. “Please.” His voice tapered off and then was broken by sobs. That call was the most mournful and aching sound that Alister had ever heard and it cut him to the core. The Chaplain Commanded took a step back and nodded to one of the officers. A hole formed around General Stone. He didn't seem to notice. All of his attention was focused on his son.
General stone was given a knife with a long, curved blade and then pushed towards the shuddering and weeping remains of his child. He walked with a slight limp, his back was straight to the point of rigidity. He looked neither left or right as he gripped the handle of the knife.
“General, do your duty to the Prophet and Her People.” The Chaplain Commander said. The father leaned over his son and then in one swift and merciful stroke, drew the blade across his throat, nearly severing his head.
“Very good General! You remembered your duty to God and the State.” Finally, the Chaplain Commander turned to the Rangers as they stood at attention. “For the rest of you, you are not innocent in this. You are all guilty in this man's crimes. From here on, all Rangers will be restricted to base when not on duty. By order of the Council. You will now return to your regularly scheduled training and duties. If you have loved ones, I suggest that you write to them tonight before mail call. It may be the last chance you get. Mark my words Soldiers and remember them as if they came from Her lips. Your own punishment will begin soon, and you will cleanse away the worst of your sins with blood.”
For prose apply within.
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