Purgatory's Shore (Artillerymen # 1)

by Taylor Anderson

“On the other hand,” he continued more bleakly, “as I told the men when we got here, I wouldn’t be surprised if Periz and the other alcaldes eventually resort to conscription. That’s ‘involuntary servitude’ of a sort itself, but if the Doms are as bad as they say—and I’ve no reason to doubt it—I don’t even disapprove. Better that than what will happen to their families if the enemy wins. And even in the army, conscripts are still free men, fighting for freedom. I . . .” He hesitated, looking at Barca, who was now watching him with a strange expression. “I just wanted to say, to speak to you before I talk to the colonel . . . I’ll insist you have the same right as anyone to be a free man in this army, to choose whether to stay in his service or transfer to a combat unit of any branch.” He glanced at the dark-skinned Ocelomeh healer and tilted his head to the side with a slight smile. “If our time here has taught our people nothing else, they seem to have begun to grasp that white men—or black—are now a distinct minority, and skin color”—he thought of Varaa and actually chuckled—“or appearance in general, is no basis to judge the quality of an individual.” Lewis snorted. “Background either, since even some of our most . . . belligerently insular troops originally from England and Ireland have lately been heard to use the words ‘we’ and ‘us’ collectively. My point is, between that and your fighting reputation, you’d be welcome in any branch you chose.”