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.”