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NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2007 15:27:29 -0500
From: "Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@pendorwright.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Journal Entry 151 / 06119  Sterlings: Not The Heat She Wanted (NS) [NEW!]
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Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2007 20:10:02 -0400
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Sterlings: Not The Heat She Wanted
Noren, Urim 03, 6119

"I don't know that there's anything I can add, Lieutant Rho. I think
you've done more than due diligence in this matter" Chaplain Butler
leaned forward in her chair. "But let me ask you a question. Why did you
come to me?"

"Because... I thought I would get a straight answer from you." Rhiane
surprised herself with her own honesty, but Butler made her feel as if
she could speak freely.

"Do you believe there is anything in your current relationship--"

"Potential relationship," Rhiane said.

Butler smiled. "Your potential relationship with Lieutenant Thavas that
might upset your capability to operate as an officer? You've already
assured me that you don't believe so.

"Rhiane, As a member of Her Church and Office, my duty is to see to it
that you keep Her injunctions in mind as you go about your daily duties.
I have no illusions that Her Church has ever been a real influence over
most women's lives, yours included. You're nearly an atheist." Rhiane
thought to object, then thought better. "It's all right. She
understands. She knows that your heart has many depths and many ways to
one's essential and moral humanity. She is not a tribal goddess
demanding unquestioning fealty. Not even the Spartans believe that."

Butler stood up and came around the desk to sit on it, squarely facing
Rhiane. "Go with Her grace, Rhiane. You do not seem out to break your
friend's heart simply to satisfy your own hungers, and there seems to be
nothing illicit in your motives."

Despite her own lack of religious convictions Rhiane felt an
overwhelming relief, an intense gratitude, at the chaplain's words.
Tears came to her eyes. Her voice cracked when she said, "Th... Thank
you."

"Don't thank me. Thank the Goddess and Her prophet, Jehanne Sterling."

Rhiane nodded. "I'll try to remember."

"I hold services every Freya's night." Butler put her hand on Rhiane's
shoulder. "But you probably won't try too hard to remember that."

Blushing, Rhiane nodded.

She spent the rest of the morning and that afternoon coordinating
between the Pendorians and the ground crew at Sparta. The decision had
been made by someone high up that the Pendorians should be allowed to
put their feet on Free World soil. She had been doing this long enough
that she approved several things without asking Tempany. She knew which
groups of Pendorians wanted to do what-- the dignitaries would be
undignified, the scientists would still be scientific, the culturalists
could find culture just about anywhere. Sparta was the middle world in
the Free Worlds, over five hundred years old, a century behind Athens
but before the young sister Minerva system at three hundred, and it had
the cities and civilization to match.

Rhiane was tasked with making sure that every "affinity group," as the
Pendorians called them, reached the surface in their own time. She
consulted regularly with Thia regarding how the groups could be
co-ordinated and whom among the Pendorians would need ad-hoc liaisons.
Not many, as it turned out. They would be hard to miss among the general
population, unless they were alone, female, and human (or, she supposed,
satryl). Thia had to remind her of when it was time to eat.

The *Victoria* and the *Canvas* travelled close enough and in parallel
that SDisking between them was now as easy as walking to the
recreational facilities on the *Victoria* herself. The captain of the
*Victoria* had imposed quotas to make sure than enough of her crew was
on board at any given time to handle any given emergency but Rhiane
could see the general trend-- the Pendorian way of doing things was
tempting and didn't seem to be with downsides.

She thought of Ilonca much throughout her day. She knew what Ilonca's
assignment was in all of this-- the smaller details, the things
Ambassador Tempany would be doing over the first few days after
landfall. Ilonca would be running interference for Tempany, thinking of
what the Ambassador needed. She felt a moment's gratitude that Ilonca
was so busy. It let her put one more day between herself and when she'd
finally have to choose-- but choose what?

To accept Ilonca's offer, or refuse it. She wasn't good at either.

The next day was like that, and the day after that. A week passed. Then
two. She saw Ilonca often but always in passing, often in the cabin hall
before falling to brief, exhausted sleep. By the middle of the third
week they were in orbit around Sparta. She found email from Ilonca
waiting for her.

    I haven't had a chance to talk with you in a while, but I've
    been seeing your scheduling blocks going through. See? I told
    you you were good at this. Tempany loves your work, especially
    the way you seem to do it without too much input from her.

    There's a gathering at 19:00 planetside for the Pendorians. I'm
    going to be with the Ambassador, and she's ordered you to be
    there as well. You've probably already gotten redmail about
    that.


Rhiane looked at her mail index and saw one header in bright red:
official orders. She read on.

    Wear the full formals, blues this time, with ribbons if you've
    got them. You might have to explain the science one I bet you
    have. Although the Pendorians offered us SDisks, OfcPersMan on
    the ground automatically booked us rooms at the Mariante' Hotel
    in Sparta City.

    I missed you the past three days, Rhiane. I really want to see
    you again.


Rhiane read the note a few more times before she was sure it said what
she thought it said. She was expected to be downplanet at 19:00 hours?
Her eyes pegged the clock on her screen. That was only eleven hours
away; how could she possibly get everything ready and be downplanet by
then?

*SDisks.* Of course. They were the kind of technology the Pendorians had
to seduce worlds into the Corridor. She had no doubt that someone over
on the Pendorian side had made the decision early on that the Free
Worlds were "our kind of people" and that the process of integrating the
Free Worlds into the Corridor was well underway.

Rhiane SDisked over to the *Canvas* and with Thia's help found her way
to her next appointment at Yesyka's place. Everything was eerily scaled
up to Yesyka's three-meters-plus frame, making Rhiane feel as if she had
wandered into some strange movie set. The Han, willowy of leg yet
impressive of bust, moved through the room with the kind of grace
usually demonstrated by predators. "What can I do for you, Miss Rho?"

"Ilonca is down-planet but I wanted to go over the speakers' order with
you. I had questions about why you felt it necessary to put three
speakers in front of any of your own."

Yesyka looked a little amused. "It's your world. I thought you might
want to say a few words before the guests go on. I don't think asking
Ambassador Tempany, President Shesha, and Admiral Mici to speak before
Ambassador Altalevee gets up there is too much, do you?"

"I just wanted to clear it with you. The Ambassador is worried that the
audience might get restless." Rhiane cringed inwardly as she spoke. It
sounded so fake to her, this dancing around the issue of trying to
shorten the speeches, to get on to the real course of the evening, the
"schmoozing," as Kabura and Ilonca had put it. She wondered what there
was to schmooze about. The Pendorians seemed to be under the impression
that they had to be careful not to insult the chain of command. Couldn't
they see just how anxious that chain was to make use of their freely
offered services?

"Ah. Well, you may shorten the speeches as you wish, perhaps even
dropping one. I don't see why not. Surely your Ambassador gets the
opening billing, the President a welcoming speech, and your Admiral the
thank-yous?"

Rhiane nodded. "Maybe we should just have the President give the main
speech as she sees fit, and the Ambassador and Admiral do the
introductions and the exit?"

"I can live with that. And I'll advise Ambassador Altalevee that she
should shorten hers down to a bare minimum."

"I appreciate that. Thank you, Ma'am."

"Is that all?" Yesyka asked.

"That's the only concern I have now. Everything else is in Lieutenant
Thavas's hands."

Yesyka smiled. "Say, you wouldn't want to go out afterwards, would you?
I know you'll probably be tired, but... we could get together for a
drink."

Rhiane looked up at Yesyka sharply, not sure what to make of her
question. "I... I'm sorry. I already have plans."

"It was just an invitation. I'm not going to jump on you or anything
like that," Yesyka said.

Rhiane felt her heart beat hard. This was an invitation hard to miss.
Maybe Ilonca's training was rubbing off on her. "I'm sorry. But I'm
seeing someone else after the party."

"Oh. Okay. Fair enough. You just seemed a little lonely at the last
one."

"Thanks. But I think I've got a previous offer. And... " She tried to
smile. "It's a little fragile now."

"New fragile?" Rhiane nodded. "Good for you. See you at the event."

"Bye, Yesyka. And... thanks."

"We underlings gotta stick together," the Han said.

As Rhiane made her way back to her cabin, she wondered if there was some
kind of conspiracy underway among the Pendorians to get her laid.

Maybe there was a conspiracy among the Pendorians to get them *all*
laid.

            *            *            *

Rhiane was planetside by 16:00 with time to locate Ilonca and get the
arrangements underway. While she sat in the hotel lobby messages flowed
from her laptop between the various speakers. She made notes on the
speeches and tossed them back, creating a unifying theme among the four
of them. She couldn't believe a lowly lietuntant was privy to so much
information.

It wasn't until she shut down the messaging service that she realized
the privilege was insignificant to what she had just done. She had
managed to get four people-- a local civilian executive, a federal
civilian executive, a military executive, and an alien federal
functionary-- to agree completely with the changes she had proposed to
the day's events. She was starting to believe Ilonca.

The hotel lobby was a circular affair with a faux domed ceiling colored
in a dark cream motif that made Rhiane feel as if she were inside a
brown egg. The circular couch in the middle made her comfortable but the
black table it surrounded would have been more appropriate in some war
room somewhere else. She sipped from her drink as she stared at the
screen, waiting for an email to tell her where she has messed up when
hands laid on her shoulders and a voice said, "Aren't you forbidden from
drinking on duty?"

She recognized the voice instantly and looked up, smiling, into Ilonca's
upside-down face. "Hi!"

Ilonca made her way around the couch and joined Rhiane, sitting a
distance that might have been acceptable or it might not have been. She
was certainly in reach of the other woman. "Thought you might be down by
now. It's only an hour away. Where have you been?"

Rhiane quickly closed the lid on her laptop. "Doing stuff. Mostly
getting Tempany and Altalevee to agree on what they're going to say, and
getting the Admiral and the President to keep it short."

Ilonca's eyes widened. "I hope you don't talk like that in front of your
superiors. That drink must be strong."

Rhiane smiled. "It's soda. I only say things like that in front of
Tempany. I think I'm getting good at this."

"Already thought you were," Ilonca said. "Did it work?"

"Spectacularly," Rhiane said. "I was up all last night thinking about it
and I think I got it. That's really the secret, isn't it? You just have
to keep thinking about it. Turning it over. Looking for the
alternatives. All the time. That's what makes some people successful,
and others not. The successful ones do what they like to do, so they
keep thinking about it. The unsuccessful ones treat it like a job, and
go on to do something else when they're 'off duty.'"

"Thought you didn't like doing this," Ilonca said.

"It's what I have to do. I may as well get good at it."

"In for an inch, in for the miles?"

"Something like that," Rhiane said.

Ilonca looked around for a moment, then let her fingers trail up the
length of Rhiane's sleeve to her shoulder. "What are you doing after the
conference tonight?"

Rhiane looked at her. "I haven't even picked up my room key yet."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I will." She slipped the laptop into her bag and walked over to the
hotel reception desk. She registered her name and the hotel took her
palmprint. She reached down for Ilonca's hand and put it on the reader.
"Authorize Lieutenant Thavas for my room as well, would you?"

"You don't do anything by halves, do you?" Ilonca said.

"Ask me tonight, after the reception is over, if I'm not so stressed out
that I spend the wind-down in the bathroom throwing up."

"Ugh," Ilonca said. "Know what you mean, but it's never happened to me."

"Me, either. But then I've never been in charge of so much before. And
there's nobody to hold my hand on this."

"Except me."

"You don't know what you're doing either," Rhiane said.

"Oh, I'm trained to throw shindigs. It's telling aliens what to say that
nobody is trained for, and you've been doing that all day."

Rhiane shrugged. "I guess so."

"Come on. We've got to hit the conference hall. They're probably
wondering where I am. They know how to do the job but they're not
willing to make a move without my approval. If anything goes wrong they
can point to me and say I approved it. That's the military for you."

Rhiane had paid attention to every word, but hadn't really been
listening. Instead, she had been watching Ilonca's mouth move, watching
those gentle lips, which weren't quite red or pink, but that washed-out
halfway color between the two that adorns natural mouths. She thought it
was the most beautiful color she'd ever seen. "I went to see the ship's
chaplain on the *Victoria*," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Chaplain Butler. I went to see her. I figured that, of all the people
on board, she would give me the best answer about our relationship.
She's not JAG, but she knows the law about fraternization and all that
as well as any of them do, and probably hears more people talk about
their wants and needs. She said that unless our superior officers make a
deal about it, we don't have to worry about it either. It'll only be a
problem if one of us becomes promoted over the other."

"Which is likely to happen," Ilonca said. "You're much more likely to
move up than I am at this point."

"Maybe," Rhiane said. "I don't know if what I've done is that big a
deal."

"Rhiane! You've organized the first Free World and Pendorian conference!
And now you've done it again planetside. You've made arrangements,
schedules, itineraries, and now you're rewriting dignitaries' speeches,
including the Pendorians. What do you think they give people promotions
for, anyway? It's not just getting shot at in battle!"

Rhiane blushed. "I know. I just don't feel that I... deserve it. I'm
just doing what has to be done."

"And doing it well. That's what they promote people for! They want you
to keep doing it, train other people to do it, and eventually organize
large bodies of people to do it."

Rhiane looked away, staring at herself in a mirror. If anything, she
looked sharper and less inviting than usual, her huge round glasses
completely out of style. "I wish I could go back to science."

"I know," Ilonca said. She took Rhiane by the hand. "I wish we didn't
have a war. Don't know what I would be doing if we hadn't, but I know I
would be something other than a glorified maitre d'. Come on." She led
Rhiane up a wide staircase and around a curved concourse to the main
reception room.

The walls were decorated with flags: the flags of the main worlds, the
Church, the Government, and three new ones, of Pendor, llerkin, and
Terra, all hung in a row. The floor was wooden, the room filled with
round tables. It all looked like the set-up she had seen on the *Canvas*
only more grand and even more impossible to keep under control. She
cringed briefly at the size of the spectacle that had become her
responsibility.

"Where am I sitting?"

"Over there," Ilonca said, pointing to a table at the very front. "Right
under Tempany's seat. By the way, here." Ilonca reached into her carry
bag and handed Rhiane a small earbug. "You'll need this. It's got two
channels. One's from security and the other's from Tempany's earbug. She
might need you to do lookups on the fly. You're going to be her spare
brain for the evening. The Pendorians already have them-- some of them,
but especially Altalevee, have implants that let the AIs talk directly
into their heads."

Rhiane slipped the bug over her ear, the insert fitting snuggly just
above the opening. "So everyone on the Pendorian side is really just
part of the AI? The machine culture people always talk about... it's
real?"

Ilonca shrugged. "They act like individuals, don't they?"

Rhiane thought of Yesyka. "I guess they do." She looked up. "Yesyka
invited me out to a drink after this was over. I told her I was busy."

"Really? And you noticed?"

"You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"You noticed that too," Ilonca said. She gave Rhiane a brief hug.
Several people in white uniforms passed them by, their laden carts
rattling with tableware and cutlery and glasses. The two women got out
of the way and let them get about the business of making sure that every
position was prepared. One said, "Lieutenant Thavas?"

Ilonca sighed. "Duty calls."

Rhiane nodded, giving Ilonca's hand one gentle squeeze before sending
her on her way. She took a seat in a chair along the wall and re-opened
her laptop. There was a thank-you note from Tempany, a request for a
small change from Altalevee, and a notice from Security that protesters
were expected outside the hotel. Protesters?

In the past few days a disorganized but vehement anti-Pendorian movement
had arisen on Sparta. The protesters had a few barely coherent
complaints, among them that the presence of masculinists among the
Pendorians was against the Founders' teachings, especially those of Her
Prophet; that the Pendorians themselves were essentially corrupt and
would destroy the Free Worlds' way of life; and that the Pendorians were
bringing with them the machine culture that would destroy every
individual's uniqueness and humanity; and since this was Sparta, that
the Pendorians would destroy the communality that gave Sparta its
uniqueness. There were other, wackier claims in the list Security had
given her but those she could dismiss. It was the four central
complaints that propelled protesters into the cold night. She checked
the weather reports. It was expected to rain, and Rhiane hoped that
would put a damper on the protests. There was nothing in Security's
email to suggest that any of the protesters were preparing to disrupt
the ceremonies.

Rhiane could have anticipated this eventuality. The Free Worlds weren't
made up of homogeneous political units. Everyone-- well, almost
everyone-- resisted The Dark because The Dark killed indiscriminately
and resisted negotiation but beyond that there were the usual political
disagreements about how anything should be done. The Founders had hoped
that an entire culture made of individuals built to look and think like
women, whether they were male or female underneath their clothes, would
be a better culture for it. Rhiane believed they had been wrong. Sexism
had mostly disappeared and racism was a matter of comedy with all of the
gene mixing that had gone into the initial generations, but everything
else that didn't require outright physical identification was a matter
of fair game: political affiliation, economic expectations, religious
orientation, sexual orientiation and accessibility. Class elitism and
military meritocratic snobbery remained.

Rhiane thought it sad that such differences remained. Even when people
understood that they were acting out an identity imposed by evolution's
cruel paradigm-- be part of something and protect it no matter what for
it protects-- even when they knew it was arbitrary and likely to bring
distress they did it anyway.

With that insight she suddenly understood why the protesters were
assembling and for a brief second entertained the thought of joining
them. Underneath their obvious rage was the awareness that, whatever
else, they were trying to protect that rage from something more
terrible, from being held up to the light and shown their hypocrisy, the
hypocrisy which comes from understanding why one human being hurts
another yet does nothing to prevent it.

She pulled up her journal and a pen, turning the laptop inside out so
she could write on the screen, and made her notes longhand. It was her
preferred method of making such notes, because it allowed her to marshal
her thoughts before tossing them down onto the page. She wrote down her
insight, sure it was nothing new but it was hers and she wanted to keep
it. She closed the book and shivered sightly.

"You've had a busy day."

Rhiane was on her feet the moment she heard that voice, turning to
salute Ambassador Tempany. "At ease, Lieutenant," Tempany said softly.
"I must say that I'm extremely impressed with the way you've comported
yourself the past several days and any concerns you might have about
being inadequate to the role' to which you've been assigned are
completely irrational. I know, from speaking to Lieutenant Thavas, that
this is not what you wish to be doing with your life right now, but of
all the things you could be doing this is probably the most useful."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"I'm afraid that I have no intention of releasing such a useful member
of my staff any time soon, Rhiane. You and Ilonca will probably be with
me for a while. I'm sorry."

Rhiane let her shoulders sag just enough to be perceptible. "I
appreciate the warning, Ma'am. I hope I won't disappoint you."

"You haven't yet. You've live in interesting times, Lieutenant, and
you've come to the attention of important people. Do not waste these
opportunities."

"If they don't forward my chosen career, Ma'am, are they really
opportunities?"

"Your chosen career is in the Navy, Lieutenant and not any specific
division. I thought that was clear when you signed up. You go where you
are needed." Tempany put her hand on Rhiane's shoulder. "I understand
your frustration. My original love was communications-- audio, video,
and so forth. I never expected to be talking face-to-face with my target
audience either. This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you. But
I'm not upset by it."

Rhiane nodded. "Thank you, Ma'am."

Tempany smiled. "Now then, Lieutenant, it would be seemly if you would
sneak out that exit over there--" She indicated a door on the far side
of the reception hall-- "and make your way to the rear of the reception
crowd congregating outside."

"Yes, Ma'am." Rhiane closed her laptop and pocketed it before leaving.
She found herself in a wide bowed hallway of neutral carpet with a large
curved window looking down on the street below. The hall was full of
dignitaries all of them fully dressed in their finest. She envied the
ones who looked as if they were born to their uniforms. She knew she was
not born to hers.

As she walked through the crowd she recognized a face. "Polly?"

"Rhiane! Look at you! Great Goddess, you look wonderful!" Polly hugged
her former roommate solidly.

"What are you doing here?"

"We're not on leave yet and they needed a Navy crowd to fill out this
place. I had to tell my Moms to expect me tomorrow but they think it's
great that I'm going to hobnob with the aliens. Since we were the 'first
contact' team they decided we'd make great dignitaries. Not that I'm
very dignified." She laughed, and Rhiane laughed with her. "You're still
assigned to Tempany, aren't you?" Rhiane nodded. "Have you and Ilonca
become an item yet?"

Rhiane blushed. "No, but we're... dating."

"Yay! I was afraid that you wouldn't get the hint from her fast enough.
She's okay. Ignore what Khrystyne was saying about her. For that matter,
ignore Khrystyne completely."

"Things not work out?"

"She was cheating on me. She promised me that she wouldn't."

"I thought you weren't particularly monogamous."

"Me? I don't think so." Rhiane eyed Polly with bemusement. Polly's
nonmonogamy was mostly theoretical. "But she was. Or she said she was. I
played along." Polly paused for a moment. "I think sometimes she did it
just to make me mad, like maybe she wanted me mad. Anyway, it doesn't
matter. It's over now."

"I'm sorry that I got involved when just as you got, um, de-involved?"

Polly smiled. "Are you monogamous?"

"I don't know. I would assume so," Rhiane said. "We haven't talked about
it. We haven't talked very much. It just kinda happened a few days ago
and we haven't had much chance to talk about it since then. It's been
busy. I've been putting in eighteen-hour staff days."

"Ooog. Nobody should have to do that except in battle," Polly said. "I
hope that you get a break soon."

"Me, too," Rhiane agreed. The crowd shifted slightly in the direction of
the door. "I think they're letting us in," she said.

She turned to stand next to Polly when something came crashing through
the window in a chord of tinkling glass, something big and glowing. It
struck the ceiling and shattered, and a vast, bright, liquid light
spread out from the impact site. Someone screamed, "Fire!"

Rhiane grabbed Polly by the arm and threw her backward away from the
flame before she turned herself. She felt something splash against her,
felt a searing pain on her neck. Her scalp prickled as she ran and heat
dug at her back. She tore off her jacket. She ran hard until she thought
she was out of the circle of flame, dropped to the floor and rolled,
pressing the small of her neck to the rug in the hopes of smothering
whatever had hit her back there. She cried out in fresh pain as her skin
pressed against the tight-knit fabric of the floor. As she turned over
to stand she saw the crowd surging towards her. Many of them were alight
like little candles screaming, screaming. They reached her and she knew
then she'd made a mistake. She curled into a ball and the screaming,
radiant women tripped and fell over her, kicked her and trampled her as
they all tried to escape that terrible burning room. Her body was
submerged by a pummelling so constant it was impossible to isolate any
one strike and in her nostrils rose the overwhelming stench of burning
plastic and meat.

            *            *            *

She awoke, wondering why she couldn't think straight. She tried to
remember. Her name was Rhiane Rho of Athens, Lieutenant assigned to the
Hyperspace Research Station Ariadne' in far orbit from the Spartan
sun... no, that wasn't right. She'd been on fire. No, *she* hadn't been
on fire, but others had. She'd been beaten. Trampled.

She tried to move her head and found that she couldn't. It was frozen,
although she didn't know why. Something on her back. She couldn't tell
what. "You lie right there and be still," someone said.

"Where am I?"

"Marquida Naval Medical Center, Sparta," said the voice. "I'm Doctor San
Sayeda. You've suffered from some terrible injuries, Lieutenant Rho, but
we've been assured that you'll be well soon enough. The Pendorians have
even offered to assist with your recovery, so you'll be well enough
someday even if they have to buy you a new body. You'll need some new
hair, at any rate."

"I feel terrible."

"Yes, you would," said the voice. It was a pretty voice. Rhiane wished
she could see the woman who owned it. Her eyes wouldn't work. She felt
something twitch against her arm. "It's too soon for you to be awake.
Sleep again."

Rhiane slept.

When she awoke next, she could see. The lights were on, but something
was wrong with her vision. It was clear, but it felt odd. It took her a
while to realize only one eye worked. The rest of her felt terrible--
exhausted, in pain, immobile. She could turn her head, although the skin
on the back of her neck felt tight and raw when she did. To her left was
a window. To her right was the door and another bed. There was no one in
it.

The door opened and two women stepped through. "Good afternoon,
Lieutenant Rho. I hope you're feeling better?" Rhiane nodded. "Good."
The taller one, a brittle-looking blond in a medical uniform, pulled up
a stool and sat next to her. "I'm Doctor San Sayeda. I'm going to be
honest. Almost every bone in your body, including the orbit of one eye,
was broken. You're going to be blind there for a while, although the
Pendorians have told us they can repair it eventually. It would probably
be easier for me to list off what wasn't damaged than what was. You had
a ruptured liver and spleen, and... You really don't want to hear this."
Rhiane shook her head. "But the prognosis is good. We've got regen, and
the Pendorians have all their nanotech that we can use now, so
eventually you'll be back to your old self. Give it six weeks until
you're out of bed, and six months until you're ready to hit the gym and
work you way up from baseline."

"Six weeks?" Rhiane groaned.

"I'm afraid so. We can't push you any harder than that. You've taken
terrible trauma."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks already."

She had been unconscious for two weeks? Was that even possible?
"Polly... How is she?"

"Who?"

"Pollyanna San Tarvo," Rhiane gasped. "She was next to me in line."

The physician pulled out her own laptop and tapped a few keys. "There's
a Lieutenant San Tarvo listed as being released the day after the
incident. Other than some minor bruises, she seems to have escaped
unharmed."

"Oh, good," Rhiane said. "And Ilonca Thavas?"

"I don't have anyone with that name listed. She must not have been
injured."

Rhiane closed her eyes. "Thank the Goddess for both of them."

"You get some rest. I know that will be hard here. Nobody sleeps well in
a hospital. But you need your rest."

"My laptop?"

"If you had one, we didn't receive it," the physician said. "I'm sorry."

Rhiane nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

"Sleep well, Lieutenant. You'll need it."

Rhiane could not sleep. She had slept for days already, and despite the
lack of real rest to which the doctor had alluded she couldn't stop
thinking about what she could have been doing. She had the room to
herself; whoever had been in the other bed had long since left.

She reached over for the monitor at her bedside. It didn't have the
security keys and the biometrics she needed to do her job properly, but
she could use it to fashion an unsecured email to her boss.

She read the news. In the two weeks since the incident, The Pendorians
had taken it in stride as the kind of thing that happens "in a non-AI
culture," as one of them put it rather tactlessly. She even recognized
the speaker, although she couldn't remember her-- she corrected herself,
*his*-- name. Media tapes of the incident had identified the
bomb-thrower. Short, scrawny-looking girl. The kind expected to throw a
bomb.

Four people had died of their injuries. The Pendorians were working hard
to make sure the rest recovered. Broken bones may have hurt, but burns
were horrible. The media heads made sure to emphasize just how horrible.
Rhiane had gotten away with a small patch, barely four cems on a side,
on the back of her neck. She considered herself lucky.

The incident had served to make the protest movement the subject of
media and police scrutiny. The pressure had led to the emergence of a
legitimate protest movement, one that could be trusted, at least in its
current rhetoric, to oppose the "Pendorization" of the Free Worlds
without tossing any more incendiary devices. Already powerful members of
the legislature had voiced support for these "Real Women" and their
movement. The Prime Minister was going to have a heck of a time
balancing their demands with the needs of the military for the Pendorian
support. Could anyone who'd had a taste of Pendorian medicine, or the
SDisks, or their entertainments, really give them up in the name of
ideological purity?

She supposed someone could. She was still scrolling through the news
when her door opened again. "Ilonca!"

The other woman had an armful of things, most of which she dumped onto
the other bed and then threw herself onto Rhiane, hugging her. "You're
awake!" she said. "When they said you'd been trampled... I was so
worried about you!"

"They told me I'm going to be okay," Rhiane said.

"Did you know you were dead?"

"Really?" Rhiane said. "Nobody told me."

Ilonca nodded. "On the way to the hospital. Polly told me your heart
stopped. She was in the ambulance with you. They brought you back, got
you onto a heart machine fast. Hope whoever did this rots in jail for
the rest of her life!"

"Uh, Ilonca, you're squeezing a bit hard and... my ribs."

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" Ilonca straightened up, brushing her hair out of her
face. "Tempany's going nuts without you. She needs you back as soon as
you're able, but the docs say that you're on your back for at least
another month and you'll probably get a full six months of medical leave
for this. So she asked me to give you this. If you sign for it, you're
back on... on whatever you can do for her. And you'll get both full pay
and leave pay." She held out a security pouch.

Rhiane took it in her hands, touched the biometric lock, and unzipped
it. Inside was a secure laptop, the kind with a palm lock on the top.
She looked up at Ilonca and said, "Thanks."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Ilonca said. "It'll be good to have you
back on the team. You need this, too." She reached into the pouch,
probably flouting some regulation somewhere, and put a bracelet around
Rhiane's wrist. The laptop's contents would only be unencrypted if she
wore the bracelet and the laptop was within two meters of her body.
Otherwise it would power down immediately and the decryption matrices in
memory would be wiped. The machine would become unusable until she put
her palm on it once more. It couldn't prevent coercion, but it was not a
weak security system by any measure.

Her hands lingered on Rhiane's wrist, and Rhiane felt her body warm in
ways that she probably shouldn't have been feeling. They were feelings
to which her injured body was not prepared to respond. Ilonca picked up
her hand and pressed her lips to the back. "I worried about you. Had
splurged on the hotel rooms, got us the kind with the bathtub big enough
for two."

Rhiane looked up at Ilonca, then giggled. "What?" Ilonca said.

"I tried to picture it, but I keep imagining myself in all these
bandages."

Ilonca looked at her. "You keep imagining." She leaned over, her face
mere cems from Rhiane's. "You keep imagining me," she whispered. Then
she kissed Rhiane.

Rhiane felt that kiss all the way down to her toes and then some. It was
something she had wanted, waited for, and missed for all her years.
Somehow, it was as if, even while in a two-week coma, her body had known
it was waiting for Ilonca's warm, pink mouth to moisten hers. Her lips
parted knowingly, and she extended her tongue to meet Ilonca's halfway.
It was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.

"We should stop," Ilonca said. "You're not in any shape for this and...
I don't want to make it worse for you."

Rhiane blushed and said, "I don't think I can turn over with the rib
cast on anyway."

Ilonca said, "What? I didn't hear that. You mumbled."

Rhiane blushed and shook her head. She looked up at Ilonca, and for some
reason it was as if she were seeing her for the first time again. She
had been naked, or nearly naked, her body pressed up against Ilonca's,
once upon a time, and she missed it. But she was stuck, now, in her body
cast for weeks to come, and she didn't wish to tempt herself too much
with promises that might never be fulfilled.

Yet she surprised herself again. Ilonca still held her hand, so she got
free and turned her hand over and grabbed Ilonca's wrist with her
fingers. "Promise me you'll be here when I get out."

"I will be," Ilonca said. "Now, you take your time downloading those
million emails I'm sure you have, and take all the time you need getting
through them. But first, send Tempany a mail saying you're alive, put on
a filter to color-code anything after you received the laptop-- she told
me to tell you that, prioritize the new she said-- and email me every
day telling me how bored you are."

Rhiane smiled. "I'll do that."

----------------------
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik 
and Related Tales.

The entire archive of stories can be found at:
http://www.pendorwright.com/journals

Copyright 2007 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.
Distributed under the Creative Commons License BY-ND-NC/1.0
Some Rights Reserved. 

--
Elf M. Sternberg, Immanentizing the Eschaton since 1988
http://www.pendorwright.com/

"You know how some people treat their body like a temple?
     I treat mine like issa amusement park!" - Kei 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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