Illoia slid out of the box and grabbed the sidearm that was laying directly in front of her and blazed away at the three aliens that had appeared around the front corner of the box. Or, rather, she held her sidearm in their direction while depressing the firing stud, and let the gun aim and fire itself while she leapt up, and started a wild dance to avoid the beams from the aliens weapons. When they got close she leapt off to one side, putting the alien on the side nearest her in the way of the other two alien’s beams, and watching with satisfaction one of this rear limbs crisp off before they could get themselves sorted out.
“Well, you killed one and wounded the other two,” Tom said, when Illoia stood up and her own crisped body rearranged itself. “That’s not bad for a close in three against one.”
“I suppose you could do better?”
“Well, yes, but that isn’t really the issue. I am pleased with how much you have improved since that first day when you dropped the gun and screamed.”
Illoia laughed, both at the thought of her first performance and at her husband’s social cluelessness. And her own ability, after all these months on board together, to finally understand how what would have seemed an insult, and a poorly delivered one, she now understood as just his blunt statement of fact. He would have done better, no doubt. He had been training and in combat for years, and had a male’s physique. She doubted he ever tried anything as ‘easy’ as this particular sim.
As she pulled on her outersuit, and the door to the sim room opened, a trio of rankers, eyes staring at her husband’s black uniform and sparkling gold flashes, hurried in and began removing their outer suits, she reflected on the other part of his comment, on how she had gained not only in skill in using firearms, but in overall physical fitness.
Then that thought was overwhelmed with a brief sense of shame that she was still able to sim. She had quietly visited a midwife on board who had assured her that, as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong with her, that Illoia should be able to get pregnant. And she had even examined Tom’s own medical records, once Illoia had given her article II release as wife, and said that he, too, should be fully fertile. The midwife had talked about stress and the like, but she still somehow felt ashamed that, in spite of all of her husband’s efforts, she wasn’t increasing.
“… as soon as you can,” she heard her husband say and had to confess,
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I would like you to move all of ours into the same dorm,” he repeated. “This will allow them to begin bonding together. I realize that that will cause a slight difficulty, once we get to our assignment, since these troops will have a bit of… I’m not sure of the proper word… but between them and the troops that are already there, the thirty that we will be adding.”
“I have the authority to do that?”
“Yes. I have cleared it with the captain.”
Hurrying back to their room, Illoia began searching her comp. She had learned that her husband would tell her what screen to use, or the like, but she had quickly gotten annoyed at having to ask, the incompetence that that showed. And it didn’t take her long to find the ‘housing assignment’ section of the on board net, and to find out that, indeed, she did have certain privileges.
She started to make the changes but, then, realized that she was going to be disrupting several dozen people’s lives. Sighing, she got up and, glancing again at her comp, went off to the dorm concerned.
“Ma’am?” the Mid Ranker asked, coming up to her, as she stood in the middle of the dorm, looking around, trying to decide how to make this announcement. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I suppose you can. You see, my husband has asked me to do some shifting around of people, from dorm to dorm.”
“Yes?”
“Well, I thought I should, tell someone.”
“Their comps will do that, Ma’am.”
“Yes, but I thought… in person…”
The Middy grinned. “Spoken like a true govenor’s daughter. And not a bad idea either, if not something most military types would think of. Ok, all of you, gather round!”
She watched them ‘gather round’, which didn’t involve the long straight lines she was used to with her husband. “Ma’am here has news for us. Seems there’s going to be some dorm changes.”
Everyone looked at her and she wondered why she was nervous. She had handled things far more difficult as a governors daughter.
“I, umm, my husband has asked me to move everyone of His Own into the same dorm. This dorm. That means that several of you will need to be moving out, and others coming in.”
“Do you have our new assignment, Ma’am?” one of the recruits asked.
"No, I haven't made it yet. You see, I saw that it was going to be very disruptive and thought I would talk to you all to make it less so… as little as possible."
"Ah, well, you've come to the wrong people for that, Ma'am," the Middy said. "You want to talk to the wives for that. Not that it should be a big deal regardless… well, I say that but the wives will probably find it hard. But how bout if I just call the wives in. Who all is going to be affected?"
Illoia showed him the list and he merely said, 'Oh', and began to comm. A few minutes later lasses started filing it, and were waved over by the Middy. "Housing changes," he said. "Our leader’s wife would like to consult with you."
Eventually the crowd seemed to stop, and Illoia glanced around. Most of the lasses had come by themselves. Four were nursing, and one lass had a toddler over her shoulder, evidently destined for a nap. "I… that is my husband wants me to move all of those who he has selected into the same dorm. I want to do that with the minimum of disruption… so I thought I would ask you all."
She looked out at the crowd and suddenly realized that many of the lasses were looking at the other lasses, and realized that so many of the wives were, like her, new to this whole experience. Eventually all eyes settled upon one lass, who, reluctantly, spoke. "Well, in my experience it is harder for the offspring than the adults. And we will just have to get used to new bunkmates regardless. So if you could ask the computer to make the changes, trying to keep as many offspring in place as it can…"
"That's an excellent idea," Illoia said, beginning work. "Does anyone else have any suggestions?"
"I don't suppose…" one lass started.
"Yes?"
"Well, if other leaders have selected people, it might make sense to try to put them in the same dorm as well?"
"I don't know if I have that authority…" Illoia said, and the first lass chuckled.
"No one's going to argue with your authority, Darling," she said. "But from what I can tell not many have been picked, except by your husband. I'm thinking it is one of his ideas."
"Yes… no, you're right. Not many others have been picked. But will put that in as a sorting factor… there… I will send this to you all as tentative. Any comments?"
The lasses all looked down at their comps, some quickly, and others more slowly, found and began perusing the list of changes. Many lasses frowned but none spoke up, not even the lass who had spoken at first. "Well, ummm, OK," Illoia said, and made the changes permanent.
The lasses all looked down at their comms and most of them got up and filed quickly out. Only the one lass stayed, and came over to talk to Illoia. "Thanks for thinking of us," she said. "Not much any of us could do in this case, really. A few lasses more or less, a few kids more or less. Moving is a big part of military life. But it was good of you to think about us."
She patted Illoia on the shoulder and walked out.
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
Being ‘restacked’ and mentioned in ‘notes’ is very important for lesser-known stacks so… feel free! I’m semi-retired and write as a ministry (and for fun) so you don’t need to feel guilty you aren’t paying for anything, but if you enjoy my writing (even if you dramatically disagree with it), then restack, please! Or mention me in one of your own posts.
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Von also writes as ‘Arthur Yeomans’. Under that name he writes children’s, YA, and adult fiction from a Christian perspective. His books include:
The Bobtails meet the Preacher’s Kid
and
Arthur also has a substack, and a website.
Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
I Also Do
Sci-Friday Review December 27, 2024
Science fiction is a fascinating genre. For one thing, because it includes so many sub-genres, and so much mixing of the sub-genres. Time travel, Lit-RPG, aliens, cultures, advanced tech, a time after advanced tech, utopias, dystopias, utopias which are really dystopias, hard sci-fi, soft sci-fi, space opera… it is a big list.
December 18, 2024 Warrior Wednesday Review Post
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18 DEC
Christian Fiction Writer's Circle
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23 DEC
Coming from a family with multiple military members, this rang true.