Brad Torgersen The Chaplain's Legacy (epub) id

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.”I looked down at my uniform.“No, ma’am, not really.I was nineteen when I signed up.The Fleet tried to take Purgatory a couple of years later, and then I spent the rest of my time either as a prisoner, or trying to follow through on a promise I made to my old boss before he died.”“It must have been an important promise,” she said.“I thought so,” I said.“But didn’t you consider that promise fulfilled, once the armistice was reached?”“Not really, because by then the Professor and his school kids were showing up all the time.Plus, I had more human customers coming in the door than I’d ever had before.People seemed to think the chapel was special.Significant.It grew to be a landmark in the valley.Somebody had to stick around and sweep up.And it’s not like I had anything more important to do.Maybe if the Fleet had returned right away, I’d have jumped at a chance to go home.But when a couple of years went by and it was obvious that Fleet wasn’t coming back to Purgatory any time soon, I decided to make my plans for the chapel into long-term plans.”“And yet our research shows that you don’t hold services there,” she said, raising an eyebrow.“Like I said, I’m not a chaplain.I’m just the assistant.This little silver bar you guys put on my collar, it doesn’t make me a chaplain either.”“Would you like to be?”I thought about it, still looking outside into deep space.Something I had not seen in many years.“No,” I said, slipping my hands into my pants pockets.Like having facial hair, hands in pockets was also against regulation.But screw it, certain rules are made to be broken.“Why not?” she asked.“I’m not a preacher,” I admitted.“I’m also not a theologian.”“So why even become an assistant? Of all the jobs in the Fleet available to you?”“Seemed like the best fit,” I said.“I’m not a tactical guy, and I’m not that great with equipment either.But people? I like people.When hostilities with the mantes broke out, some of my friends signed up immediately.I kind of went along for the ride.It was a chance at to go to space.What kid doesn’t dream about that? But I didn’t want to kill stuff nor fix stuff nor do a lot of the other work on the list the recruiter showed me.”She shook her head.“And yet you were the one who managed to use the single piece of leverage we needed to stop the mantes.”“Yeah,” I said, “dumb luck, that.”She checked her watch.“Well, it’s time to see if you can’t scare up a little more, padre.”We walked from the porthole to the nearest lift car, went down three decks, and wound our way to the frigate’s largish main conference room.Marines in freshly-pressed uniforms guarded the hatches, with rifles at port arms.There were some mantes guards as well, their lower thoraxes submerged into the biomechanical “saddles” of their hovering, saucer-shaped discs.Every mantis I’d ever seen was technically a cyborg.Their upper halves were insectoid—complete with bug eyes, fearsome beaks, antennae, wings, and serrated-chitin forelimbs.Their lower halves were integrated into their mobile, floating saucers.It was the saucers—the computers and equipment in them—which allowed the mantes to speak to humans, and have our own speech translated back into their language, among many other things.The mantes guards all raised forelimbs in my direction as we approached, though they seemed to be ignoring the captain.I blushed in spite of myself, and raised a hand in return.Was I that well known among the aliens?We entered the conference room, and I stopped short.There was the Professor—whom I considered a friend, and whom I’d not seen in a long time—and a larger, much older looking mantis on whom all human eyes were focused.The human contingent was arrayed around a half-moon table with chairs and computers and various recording devices.The two mantes merely floated in the air, about waist high.I smiled, and in spite of protocol walked quickly up to the Professor.“Hello,” I said.“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see you again.”“You would have not, Harry,” said the Professor, “had circumstances evolved differently.”If the Professor had a name, it was unpronounceable for humans.The skitter-scratch mandible-against-mandible language of the aliens was incomprehensible for us.And he’d always been addressed by title, even though he’d asked permission to be on a first-name basis with me.A familiar throat was cleared to my rear.I turned to Adanaho, who’s expression told me I was erring without knowing it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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