Illoia was sitting on her bed in its ‘couch’ position, staring at the OOB, trying to decide how to rate the differences in running versus shooting. She thought it made the most sense to put the best runners all in one squad, or company, so the whole unit could move quickly together. She understood spreading out the ability to shoot. But Tom had said to ‘balance’ out the units. Luckily he had also said no one did this right.
She would have liked to have asked him, but she already felt so incompetent that she hesitated, even though he was sitting right next to her, working on his own files. Suddenly the door chimed, and she looked up, startled.
“Enter,” Tom said, and the door opened and a young ranker, draftee, one that she had right now tentatively assigned to the second squad of the first company, came in and saluted.
“At ease,” Tom said, and the ranker changed his way of standing to the one they called ‘at ease’, which Illoia didn’t think looked very comfortable.
“Tell me about your family,” Tom said, and the ranker looked as shocked as Illoia felt.
“Sir, I am the third child, the first son, of a family with seven children. I have a twin sister. My father is a bookkeeper and farmer…”
The lad trailed of, and looked frantic. But Tom merely asked another question. “What is your father’s personality like? Autocratic? Laissez faire?”
“Sir, he is very quiet and very serious. His word is law, but he does not speak it much.”
“Good, good. And your mother?”
“Sir, she has been ill for the last few years. The illness leaves her very tired, so my older sisters do much of the running of the house.”
“I see. Did those sisters discipline you, as well?”
The lad flushed, “Yes, Sir.”
“That will stand you in good stead in the army. Here in the army we need to listen to several people, and be prepared to accept discipline or correction from all of them. The difficulty for you might be learning to discipline yourself. Did you do much of that with your younger siblings?”
“No, Sir, not much.”
“I think that might be a weakness, then. I am going to be giving you a temporary assignment, a short flash. If you had many sisters you should be familiar with keeping things tidy. Study up on the regulations for dorm-keeping, I am making you the dorm inspector for the dorm I am in charge of. I will expect frequent demerits from you, until I am convinced you can handle the pressure.”
“Now, let’s talk about your running. I have noticed your running skills are not improving as fast as I would like. I believe that your upbringing might have failed you a bit there, too. I am assigning you a running partner. Competition often helps young males to improve. His scores are almost exactly the same as yours in running, worse in shooting, and slightly higher in climbing. I will expect you to report back to me, weekly, on how the competition is going. Whether you think it is helping you.”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Now, how are you doing with your bunkmates? Who would you say is your best friend on board…?”
Illoia listened, amazed, as Tom grilled the poor ranker for the next half an hour and then sent him off with a curt, ‘You are dismissed’. The whole time she spent trying to figure out if Tom cared in the slightest about the lad. He asked the most amazingly intrusive questions, but didn’t seem to be so much prying as… as… she didn’t even have a word for what he was trying to do. It was evidently very important to him that the lad do well, and so he didn’t really consider any particular part of his ‘privacy’ off limits in asking questions.
And he never seemed to react emotionally to the answers, either. The lad had practically said his mother had been dying for the last few years and all Tom had seemed to care about was how that might effect him in his military career!
“You may use any of that information you feel relevant in your OOB,” Tom said, interrupting her reverie. “I am sure you are aware that you may not repeat any of it except to me.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, hurriedly.
“Do you have anyone you would like me to interview? Anyone whose skills you think might be improved by an intervention?”
Illoia’s mind froze at the very idea that she would force any poor lad to go through something like she had just seen but, before she was forced to respond, Tom continued, “Or, if you wish, you may interview any of the wives. Your job, as my wife, includes training and morale for the wives. Not directly, but you may interview them and then make suggestions, through me, to their husbands.”
Her face must have shown something, for he added, “You would interview them alone. I would have no access to the videos. Only to your suggestions.”
That was a much more palatable suggestion, and she could accept it without facing the idea of subjecting some poor lad to her husband’s style of interviews. “I think I would like to talk to that Top Ranker's wife.”
“That is an excellent idea. She will be the closest to you in authority, and has considerable experience in the role of a military wife.”
Just then the door chimed and Tom released it to show the two buddy taped rankers. “Sir!” the one with his right had free saluted, after the two had marched in and stood in front of Tom.
Tom stared at them for a minute and then returned their salute. “Are you enjoying the tape?” he asked, and both lads flushed, looked at each other, and awkwardly replied, “No Sir.”
“You, there,” he said, pointing to the lad on the right, the one she remembered as the middle class lad, “have you learned anything from the tape?”
“Sir?” the lad said, sounding confused. He looked down at the tape around his right hand and the left hand of the lad next to him. “Learned anything? Oh, yes, Sir! Our sims. They have had me using my left… my non-dominiant hand. The computer says that it is good for me, says that it will exercise my brain in new ways. My shooting score was really low at first, but I’m getting better.”
“Very good,” Tom said, “If not exactly what I meant. And you?”
The other lad stared at Tom, then at the lad attached to him. “I’m learning patience with fools,” he said, his face flushed.
“An important skill,” Tom acknowledged, “But again not exactly the one I was shooting for. How is your shooting doing?”
“Mine is down, too, Sir,” the lad admitted. “It is awkward, not being able to use my left hand to, like, balance and all. But I’m improving as well.”
“And how is your speech?”
“I… I don’t end up saying much,” he said. “I’m learning… mostly by listening.”
“That is something I did want you to learn,” he said. “But there’s more. I’ll see you tomorrow at this same time, if you’re free. I’ll be asking the same questions.”
After the lads had left Illoia turned to Tom, “What answers did you want to hear?”
“I want them to understand why they’re in the fix they’re in, and to hear they are working at fixing it. That one lad already is on his way. The other probably is farther along, but is clueless about what he is learning.”
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!
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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
Links
Article 17 is a military science fiction story with aliens and romance. It is set in a future reminiscent of Napoleon era Britain. The war was going very poorly until the military installed a dictator. This story follows one of the dictator’s great men: Cladin Tomirosh, Leader, and thrice decorated hero.
Intro // Podcast Version
She was pretty, popular, snobby, and a planetary governor’s daughter. He was the son of shopkeepers, a social misfit, and a decorated hero. She thought she was there to dance. He had other ideas.
A Dance // Podcast Version
As a governor’s daughter, Illoia usually avoided such events, but when the captain made the announcement that there was to be an Article 17 dance, she, too, was forced to attend. If only the scum hadn’t been there too.
The Unbridgeable Chasm // Podcast Version
Eukles and Meriones, brave military leaders, quail at the idea of crossing the gulf between themselves and asking a lass to dance.
There He Is // Podcast Version
The young hero comes in, and Aleshia and Illoyia gossip about him.
Look at the Young Hero // Podcast Version
The young hero comes in, and greets Eukles and Meriones… and announces his intentions.
Target // Podcast Version
Tom, Leader Cladin Tomirosh, sets his sights on the governors daughter. She isn’t impressed.
Fuming // Podcast Version
Tom and Illoia dance, while she desperately tries to get him to go away!
Now’s Our Chance! // Podcast Version
Eukles and Meriones use Tom and Illoia as a distraction and stalk their own girls.
To Slap or Not to Slap // Podcast Version
Meriones introduces himself to his new wife with a slap on the backside.
No Sane Man // Podcast Version
Illoia insults the young hero, and he proposes.
Never You, Darling // Podcast Version
Illoia finds herself unable to turn down his proposal.
A Wild Dance // Podcast Version
Illoia finds being Tom’s Consented Wife hard… with wild New Irish dances and immodest ones.
Registered // Podcast Version
A new marriage is registered. All hail the dictator!
Middy’s Got a Lass! // Podcast Version
Medinia is deliriously happy… she got 17d!
A Duel to the Death // Podcast Version
Illoia wakes up next to her new husband.
A Dowry // Podcast Version
As it turns out, Illoia brings some money into the marraige.
Fitting // Podcast Version
Even soldiers wives have to wear the uniform.
Message // Podcast Version
So, about telling her father. It’s not going to be easy.
Training // Podcast Version
Even soldiers wives have to learn how to shoot aliens.
The Captain // Podcast Version
So, about telling the governor about the marriage you allowed on your ship, Sir…
Presentation // Podcast Version
The absolute last chance to get an Article 17 wife, with everyone all lined up and shaking hands and no real time to talk…
Ma, Pa, Squeakers // Podcast Version
Imagine sending a tick tock message to your family telling them you are married.
Yee Haw // Podcast Version
Illoia is shocked to find that Tom considers his social responsibilities at a weird eating joint.
New Ship // Podcast Version
Telling the Governor // Podcast Version
Aleshia rides down on a shuttle, takes an aircar to the governors mansion, and gets to face his temper.
Hardship // Podcast Version
Marja is finding marriage very hard. Not her husband, just… life.