The elevator passed level 400. Colonel Mirra Gorden leaned on the glass window and stared at the blank doors to avoid any distractions from the sinkhole city of Coldstack racing past. She had too many nerves to stand still, so she flipped the cover off her notepad, then back on, then off again, over and over.
“Ma’m. I want to remind you one more time, we don’t need to walk into this fight,” her executive officer’s voice rattled in her earpiece.
“Are you afraid, Major Karim?” she said.
“Yes ma’m,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “Me too. Too bad for both of us, because I’m going into that cathedral and making the padre give up our guy’s money,” she said. Level 500 blew by. Her Armada officer’s badge entitled her to a private elevator all the way to the top. The lights behind her grew brighter as she entered the highest, wealthiest districts of the city.
“I am with you, but if we get into a fight with a padre in his cathedral, we will be on our own,” Karim said.
She nodded, then remembered that Karim was back on level 80 at the base, and could only hear, not see her. The Republican Armada had its main urban warfare school in Coldstack, where claustrophobic tunnels and the high shafts made the ideal training ground for clearing cities. “I know we’re alone. That’s why I made this appointment with the padre now, instead of taking the church to court. However, if we get the soldier’s money back it’s worth it.”
Level 550. She also knew that the last time she’d gone against a padre, she’d done it on the neutral ground of a federal court. She’d lost much more than one of her soldiers’ credits that time. “Worth causing a city-wide incident? Sometimes we have to worry about the needs of the many,” Karim said.
“No. The grunts sacrificed for the needs of the many when they enlisted. Our job as officers is to take care of their poor, stupid asses,” Mirra said. The elevator came to a halt so fast she hit weightlessness and her stomach dropped as her toes drifted off the ground for an instant. A deep bell rang out; Level 571. The top. The doors slid open.
“I respect your argument on its merits, but I am only following you because you are my commanding officer,” Karim said.
Mirra emerged into a square so wide the far sides were blurred by distance. It was 4AM local time, and fortunately there were no prying eyes to watch her walk to the confrontation that would probably end her career. To her left was the terminal for spaceport. The entrance onto this square was a fairly humble, cosmopolitan entrance. Much of its traffic flow went straight into its own massed elevator banks. On the right, a grand staircase rose into the ceiling. She turned right. “Major, stay on the line, in case I need something. Or just to be moral support please.”
“Of course, Ma’m. No soldier alone.”
At the top of the stairs, two shutters stood ten meters tall with the same hardness and color as the reddish tungstanium the Armada used to armor its warships. Mirra knocked once.
The shutters shuddered and slid apart with a tectonic rumble. A pale blue light blinded her, and she blinked spots away. As her eyes adjusted, the cathedral of Saint Vincennes appeared before her. Black buttresses flew high overhead, the same color as coal black skin. Heavy metal pews lined up row by row into the golden distance. The walls were black and padded with the thickest insulation. Through a handful round portals shined pale daylight. Beyond, the cloud walls swirled like currents in a bottomless ocean as methane snow pattered against the windows.
Mirra stopped short. Her breath caught in her throat and her chest ached. A place of worship was the last place she’d ever wanted to be. Staring at it brought back memories from her teenage years, of raw terror as the rounded ceilings of a different cathedral felt like it would crush her. After five heartbeats she caught herself, and refocused.
The real light came from the stained-glass floor. Mirra remembered protocol for visitors to any marked cathedral. She bowed her head and kept her eyes on the floor, where she tracked the story of human civilization, starting with the construction of the cathedral and going backwards through known history, to the uncertain brutality of the robot wars, and then to mythical earth where St. Vinncennes resided in God’s arms, wearing the mining coveralls she’d died in when she’d been executed by being abandoned on the surface with unlimited air, so she froze to death.
Beyond God’s image, tapped the stylish leather boots of Pontiff Marco Sulyvahn. He sat in a raised chair of simple hard wood, with cushions subtly padding the inside. Mirra stopped and stared at his boot. They’d been made from real, orange-brown leather and clearly custom cut to be rounded around his feet and flexed as he tapped his toes. The stitching was finer than that on her own command boots. She envied them from her own stiff boots. Six acolytes in simple grey robes flanked him, jewelry shining at the hems of their sleeve cuffs.
She waited under their hawkish stare for the padre to address her and give her permission to speak in the house of God. All the while, the cold seeped through her uniform and made her shiver
“Colonel Mirralavia Gorden. Before we begin, you may kneel and say your prayers. I’m sure someone with a career in the military as long as yours has many worries burdening your soul,” Marco said in a tone so silky and sweet it unsettled Mirra. Priests and commanding officers alike, she’d learned anyone opening a business meeting with that sweetness was hiding knives beneath.
“Thank you, but I will pass on the opportunity,” she said.
“I’m sure you have many other things on your mind. Don’t worry your heart, I will provide for both of us,” he said. She waited, teeth clenched, listening to his muttered, but emphatic prayer. “Finished. We may rise.”
Mirra straightened, leaving her neck aching. Marco was a hollowed out, hardened figure with stark cheekbones and grey skin that hadn’t bathed in sunlight his entire life. He wore humble robes of the same gunmetal grey that the miners on the stained-glass floors wore. His tailored shoes vanished beneath them as he tucked his feet back.
In turn, she was in her Armada Working Uniform, with a black trenchcoat and slacks, and heavy boots equipped with magnetic soles. She hadn’t brought her sidearm. Her only armament was her notepad clutched tight in her right hand.
She waited for him to open the conversation, so she could judge how to tackle this.
“Please, speak. Don’t let this silence be awkward,” Marco said with a smile and a wave of his arms.
Touche. “Padre. I apologize for waking you at this hour.”
“Our lord is available at all hours,” Marco interrupted with the same gentle smile.
He’s trying to throw you off, Mirra thought. “I have a matter of utmost urgency. I have a soldier, Corporal San Xiran. Married with two toddlers. Native to Coldstack. His father, Shinzen Yan Xiran is a member of your congregation. Shinzen used identity fraud to get into his son’s bank account, then donated his son’s, wife’s, and his own combined bank accounts to the cathedral donation box. I have with me notarized bank statements proving the total stolen. I just want the son’s money back for him and his family,” Mirra said.
Marco sat up straight. His acolytes all stepped to his side. Mirra held her ground, as her breath tightened in her throat. “Do you have those statements? Once money is in our donation box, it requires the signatures of myself, the chief accountant, and the planetary deacon to extract again. It’s a protection against theft. I hope you understand.”
Mirra flicked open her pad and pulled up the data files the nearly sobbing Corporal Xiran had given her. “I do understand, and I apologize for asking you to go through such measures. That is why I completed all the paperwork in advance. The total is twenty-six thousand, three-hundred and eight credits.”
“I apologize, but surely the Armada has the means to provide for an ill struck soldier?” Marco said, and leaned forwards to read. The acolytes on either side read over his shoulder.
“We have a monthly housing allowance for all married soldiers so he won’t lose the home, but his money is gone, and he’s been betrayed by his own father. The elder Xiran told him to hjis face that he should be grateful his money has gone to a better cause,” Mirra said.
“Admirable, Colonel,” Marco said and dipped his head at her. “Like me, you’re just trying to protect your flock. However, may I recommend something more substantial and holy than bureaucracy.”
“Go on please,” Mirra said, wary at the road he led her down.
“Ma’m. We preach forgiveness here. Laws are necessary, but God asks us all to forgive in our hearts. However ill-gotten Mister Xiran’s donation was it is now being used to feed children in our covens at the bottom of the city. Perhaps Corporal Xiran could come here and pray and take solace in the work his money has done for so many people.”
“I’m worried about him. This is his life, and his life is my responsibility as his commanding officer,” Mirra said. “Surely you’d do everything for a member of your flock?”
“I would.” Marco looked out the nearest portal. The snow was blowing harder now, whipping past the solid quartz. “Colonel, this city was founded from a group of miners living in an abandoned tungsten mine shaft. Without faith, they would not have survived those early years. I looked you up when you made the appointment. You come from Varium. I actually have been there. Hot desert. More inhabitable than our frozen surface, but only just. You also live in underground cities like Coldstack and the other old mining cities around the planet.”
“We call them tomb cities. The oldest were dug six thousand years ago,” Mirra said. “I lived on the surface though, because of my father’s profession.”
“I’ve heard Varium uses a different book to pray from, but they share our faith in god, and how he wields our lives in his hands. That is still respectable,” Marco said, brushing past her personal detail.
Mirra wondered if he truly believed what was coming out of his mouth, or he was bullshitting her. She couldn’t tell. That soft tone had grown into sincerity she was struggling to get around. So she decided to throw a test at him.
“Padre. The Armada does not believe in condoning theft or allowing the innocent to be taken advantage of. From my humble perspective, you are doing both right now,” she said.
Her words echoed back at her. Padre Marco’s brow furrowed in righteous fury. Then he grit its teeth and it smoothed out again. Some of his acolytes unraveled into outright rage.
“Colonel. I am merely following god’s teachings as he taught my predecessors going back to the first ordained priest in the mines five hundred years ago. God teaches us to put our fate in his hands and let him look out above for us. Now, let’s forget that for a moment. Each of us has our own relationship with God. What is your relationship?”
He was a true believer then. Mirra had a bit more respect for him. At the same time, her frustration was greater. Anyone corrupt, could be negotiated worth. True believers were unyielding walls.
Like herself right now, refusing to back down for her soldier, she thought. She kept thinking as she wondered what to say.
“Colonel, clearly you have a lot on your mind.”
“Yes.”
“Speak please and let god judge.”
“You’ll be judging, padre,” she said. She looked at the black cathedral ceiling. Somewhere, far away was the courthouse on Varium, where a federal judge had taken a chunk out of her life.
“I am only speaking the word of god to this mortal, suffering plain,” he said. The shutters ground open. She spun around and watched a stream of jumpsuit clad servants and maids file in, wearing the badges of the estates they served. The servants saw the conversation and her uniform, and quickly seated themselves in the rearmost pews.
“Do not be startled by our company. My earliest sermon is the fast sermon, for the staff of the highest levels before they go to work,” Marco said. “Now, what about my statement is troubling you?”
She refocused on him. “I do not believe.”
“You do not accept god as your savior?”
“No, I do not believe there is any savior to accept.” She threw up her hands. “There’s no god up here. Just you and me and all our fellow humans in the stars.”
Marco looked up at the sky. A portal was directly over their heads, looking up into a lilac-colored sky. The methane snow must have stopped, because the light from the distant yellow sun shined brightly through. “All this wonder in the universe, and you think there’s nothing greater out there between the stars?” The acolytes stared at her as one. She got lost judging all their expressions; anger, smirking condescension, and some raw sympathy. The sympathy burned her the most, because of how condescending they were to thinkshe needed it.
“Is the universe itself not greater?” she said to them all. A few shook their head.
He stared down his nose at her, without lowering his head. “The universe is inanimate. It is but a creation of God himself.”
“Not how that works,” she said.
“Well my pity is with you. I would like to know what experience scared you away from the light, or what tragedy you’ve falsely blamed on god. I’ve counseled many with such pain and led them back to the light. Perhaps you need a wiser voice.” He smiled with genuine delight, as he finally looked down at her.
“No one hurt me, Padre. Quite the opposite. My father was a royal biologist for the Queen of Varium. He used to take me up to the surface to test the farming plants he had bred, and his predecessors bred before him to make Varium’s surface inhabitable. At least at the north and south poles where the weather is cooler. I took trips to the surface with him every end of term holiday since I was eight. I watched him play god,”
Some of the acolytes hissed, as if they could silence her. She raised her voice over them.
“And I realized that no, there was no divine hand in this. We’re just customizing the process of evolution that’s been developing life for billions of years,” Mirra said. She closed her eyes and imagined the heat cooking her, as she watched the little green belon berries grow. They’d been bred to have long leaves like curtains, to catch the condensing dew every dawn. Their roots were fat barrels meant to hold water. The culmination of three decades of selective breeding.
“God showed you your purpose, to feed your people. A noble purpose indeed, and you’ve denied it,”
“I chose to join the Armada, and I made the right choice,” Mirra said. “The only thing I was ever given was loving parents and a middle-class birth, I had to grab the rest myself. Corporal Xiran didn’t even get a loving family.”
“It doesn’t matter, Colonel. God is still up here whether you acknowledge him or not. He’s out there, and I consider it a massive lapse of judgement to forsake him, given the consequences. Mr. Xiran, despite all his flaws, has that basic sense that you don’t.”
Ms. Gorden. This court recognizes the divorce documents yourself and your husband signed, dictating an equal split of custody of your son between your households. However, the court does not have confidence in your ability to properly raise your son. Your home will be missing the spiritual elements so critical to the development of child. Therefore, I have decided to award full custody to your now ex-husband. You may reapply once you’ve found stability in your life.
All morality comes from God, yet you tore my son from me, against both his parent’s wishes, Mirra thought as pain sprung fresh.
“By your silence, do you acknowledge my concern?” Marco said. He had the same look as that federal judge had, five years ago. Triumph, that a difficult choice was now very easy. He had an excuse.
“Ma’m,” Karim said in her ear. “For all his righteousness, he is still a hypocrite when it comes to Corporal Xiran’s money.”
I need to break him, Mirra thought.
“If that is all, my sermon begins in fifteen minutes,” Marco said. Mirra looked about and saw the pews had filled up halfway down the length of the cathedral. She was the object of attention for the entire congregation.
“I saw those leather shoes when you came in. And the jewelry of your favorite subordinates. You call yourself humble, Saint Vincennes was the saint of the workers. Yet you’re sitting here taking money from common soldiers and buying jewlery.” She pointed at each of them in turn, and finished at Marco’s shoes, which poked out once more.
“We need this, to show the masses the boon from following God’s plan,” Marco said. He stood, and climbed down from his throne. His leather shoes flashed from his robes with each step. “I grew up in rags. Am I not entitled to this? Is any true believer not?”
“Corporal Xiran isn’t entitled to that, he works to earn it. Neither am I entitled to it,” Mirra said. She searched her own deep memories. “The salary of a Padre is supposed to be only equal to the average middle class wage of the world they’re stationed on. Where are you all affording designer shoes?”
“From the generosity of my congregation,” he said.
Mirra looked back at the crowd. She heard the murmur of voices. Maids dipped their heads and whispered under the pews, while manservants openly pointed and talked away. “Does this generosity include someone else’s stolen donation? Which of God’s laws says thou shall not steal?”
The murmurs sank. Marco looked over her shoulder. She realized her voice had risen loud enough to reach over him and reach the front pews.
“You don’t believe in those commandments written by god. You do not have the right to judge anyone here,” Marco raised his own voice.
“You don’t practice that commandment, so get down here with me,” Mirra said.
Marco sucked in a breath but she jumped down his throat.
“Where’s the money going?” she said.
“I told you,” Marco said.
“I don’t believe you. If I have to take this to court, I’ll file discovery with the federal courts, not the planetary ones. We’ll see what accounts every cent went through.”
“Colonel, you are blowing this out of proportion for your pride.”
“Tell them all then. My job is to win and to look after the poor grunts. I am doing both right now.” She advanced a step on him. “Because if I was in his place, I’d feel helpless and alone.”
“You would be, because you have forsaken god’s love. By your own beliefs, we all have no meaning. Without god’s plan we are nothing,” Marco said.
“I don’t have beliefs. I have observation and the studies of thousands of years of scientists before me. We were formed from primordial dust of stars that died billions of years ago, that coalesced into the planet beneath us, the asteroids above us, and our flesh and bones. We are going to last seventy years and then we’re gone. This is a cold universe where you or I or anyone else in this city could die at a moment with no control over why and that’s something we have to do with. There is no meaning to any of us.”
“Then we are nothing. You are a complete nihilist, an antithesis to God,” Marco bellowed.
“No. We mean nothing as people. That’s why every action we take while we’re here, alive, now, means everything.” She pressed her fist over her pounding heart. “And you’re stealing this soldier’s money.”
The acolytes swarmed around her. She held her ground as they demanded she back away. There were armed guards somewhere in the cathedral. They’d be coming, and she’d be out of time.
“Enough!” Marco said. The acolytes fell silent, and retreated a step. The wind whipped outside. Mirra swore she heard snow pattering against the walls. “Krius, get me accounting. Colonel. The bank statements. I’m done. Take your worldly credits. The same blood money the original mining corporations paid with. You know that’s why they made our Saint Vincennes walk onto the surface, because she taught that God was above their money.”
Mirra flipped open her notepad and held it up. Krius, a tall, thin woman acolyte, studied it alongside Marco, while taking notes
“I’m going to give you a credit chip with the amount uploaded. So, you don’t think my congregation would ever write you a bad check,” Marco said.
Minutes later, the chip was in Mirra’s hands.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I do not want your thanks,” Marco said. He slumped forwards in his seat. Sweat dripped over his sharp eyebrows and into his left eye. “I’m late for my short sermon.”
Mirra turned around. The cathedral was packed now. There must have been thousands of sets of eyes staring at her as she walked down the aisle, tracing the story of creation all the way back to the present day. She walked out, and the shutters slammed shut behind her.
Her military ID got her another private elevator ride. She leaned against the doors and clutched the credit chip in her hand. The towers of Coldstack whipped past, the lights of public transportation running along the outer walls and specific bridges.
“Thank you, Major,” she said into her radio.
“I did nothing, ma’m,” Karim said.
“You were my backup. I’m glad I didn’t do that alone. You’re dismissed. I’ll handle the paperwork. Someone in the admiralty is going to hear about this.”
“You are welcome, ma’m,” Karim said stiffly. She knew he was hurt in his own way. He’d just helped stand against his own church. That was a hit to his feelings. Too bad. As long as he did his job, he could hate her behind his back.
Mirra settled at her desk. She placed her notepad next to her gel keyboard Her fingers hovered over the warm, soft keys, ready to be activated at her touch. Then she remembered it was 0830 and she hadn’t slept in thirty hours. Instead, she grabbed her radio.
“Colonel to garrison duty, you copy?”
“Colonel this is garrison duty officer, how may I serve?”
“Find Corporal Xiran and send him up to my office.”
“Yes ma’m, stand by.”
She tapped the keyboard a few times, but decided to hold off on writing the incident report. There would be an incident report and a lot of paperwork. That’s why she’d submitted the report of the theft before setting out for the cathedral, to color Armada command’s perspective in her favor.
Presently, there was a single knock at her door.
“Enter.”
Xiran was a stocky, well-built soldier with a narrow jaw and ashen skin. He snapped to attention, hands at his sides. His face was a mask of blank professionalism. A good, dutiful soldier.
“How’s the family, Corporal?”
“Wife is sending a letter to her parents for funds. The cooks have agreed to ship us a few meals. I’d love to just use my housing allowance for rent, but we’ve also got the infant’s surgeries,” he said. He sucked in a deep breath and his composure slipped. “My apologies.”
Mirra held out the credit chip. “Put that into your account right now. Tell me what comes up.”
He didn’t have his computer, so she stood aside and let him use hers. His eyes bulged. He shivered and recoiled a step. “Ma’m, how? It was gone and the bank said it was irreversible.”
Mirra grabbed his shoulder. “Listen clearly. Do not thank me, do not thank god, and do not ask how I got it all back, do you understand?”
“Yes ma’m,” he said and nodded furiously. His cheeks were already flushing.
“Dismissed.”
He hurried out before he could cry. Mirra sat back down. Her fingers hovered over her keyboard again.
She finished the report, then put her head down on her desk. She thought back to the last time she’d been home to Varium. It had been a stopover on the way to this posting. She’d refused to come down from orbit and stand on the sun-scorched deserts where she’d learned everything, then had it all poisoned away. So she sat in orbit and called her ex husband.
Hey Likan.
Mirra. It’s good to hear from you. I mean that. I was worried you’d be too angry to come home.
Close, but I’ll never abandon Sam.
I’ll put him on for you. He’s starting seventh year now.
Is he growing tall yet?
“No, still our little shorty. He’s smart though, top of sixth year. Got all city honors.” Mirra imagined ruffling Sam’s curly hair as Lilar said that.
“I’m proud. How are you?”
“I…I’ve found a new girlfriend. He hasn’t opened up to her yet, but she’s a nice woman. What about you? Found a soldier?” he said.
“I’ve just married myself to the job. Even if I found someone who I loved, I’m not letting it end this way again.” They’d never hated each other.
“I hope it’s a happy marriage. I mean it.” Lilar said. Mirra nodded to herself. She hoped he’d be happy. So, Sam would be, too.
“Alright. Put him on please.”
“Of course. Sam, get over here. Mom’s here.” Footsteps came running towards the microphone.
Thank you for reading, friends. If you enjoyed this story and want some weekly science fiction, feel free to like, share, and subscribe. I’ll see you next week!
I really enjoyed reading this story and the way you described the environment and Mirra’s internal struggles.
Nice story. Somethings never change