Flashes From the Past, Part Two

I lay resting in bed, my head against the pillow.  There is not much else that I could do, seeing as how I was sans legs and only had one arm-which was broken.  Still, I was luckier than most of my team; they were all dead.  The hospital smelled of antiseptic and cleaning agents and recycled air, which only served to highlight the smell of the cologne of the man standing next to me, my fiance, Alexi.  He smiled at me again, his teeth white as snow, but I could tell it was forced.

“You’re looking good, Mel,” he said.  Which I suppose made him just like any other guy.  Out of a list of things to say, they will inevitably pick the worst one to say.  I looked like hell.  Aside from missing three limbs, I had several bruises and cuts on my face, bags under my eyes and not a iota of makeup on.  Oh, and my hair had been scorched off in places.

I kept myself from rolling my eyes.  “Thanks,” I replied with a forced pleasant tone.  “I’ll be better soon, though.  The doctor said that in my case, if they don’t just full out clone me, then I will get new limbs and neural grafts.  Good as new.”

My fiance took another breath, “that’s good.  Kelli misses you, a lot.  She needs her mommy.”

“Why didn’t you bring her?”

He hesitated.  “I didn’t-” another pause “-know how you were going to be.  I didn’t want to scare her.”

I turned away and frowned.  “That’s a good point,” I managed to choke out before the tears came.  My own daughter afraid of me.  The thought alone caused me to sob.  I shook gently as the tears rolled down my cheeks to drop onto my pillow.  Alexi reached out a hand to touch me gently on my shoulder.  His touch was timid, even he was having difficulty seeing me like this.  A moment later he left, leaving me still crying and sobbing.  In that moment, I have never felt more alone.

*****

“You’re very luck, Nova,” said the captain, smartly dressed in her slate grey service uniform.  She was right.  The new recon suit had self sealing irises at strategic places on the limbs.  If it detected major damage, it closed one of them, effectively applying a tourniquet on the limb.  Which was the only thing that kept me from bleeding out.  “It was touch and go; they weren’t sure if you were going to make it.”

I had been in the hospital six days.  Six days of absolute boredom, with nothing but the constant news holo to keep me occupied.  I turned to look at the captain, with her soft face and chestnut hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.  “Any word on when I’ll get fixed up?  Oh, frack, even if I can get a remote for the holo?”  I could finally move the fingers in my left hand, my only hand, again.

“I know they’ve submitted the paperwork.  Bureau of Medicine and the Medical Review Board should give their decision and release the funding and resources here soon,” she replied.

“Decision?”  The last thing that I wanted to hear was that there was some doubt that I would get fixed.  I could not go through life like this.  I couldn’t even feed myself, with my arm in a cast, a nurse had to do it.  

“Don’t worry.  In your case it’s a formality.  They’ll fix you.”  Captain Vea pulled out a sliding chair and swiveled it around and sat.  “The Marines take care of their own.”  She sighed.  “I’m sorrie, Nova.  Your op was not supposed to go down like it did.”

“Yeah,” I said with a hint of acridity in my voice.  “Simple extract.”

“Dammit, that’s what G2 said.  I know we didn’t do a proper debrief when you got back, seeing as how your life was hanging by a fraying thread, but if we had known of the actual OPFOR strength, it would not have been your team.”

“Yeah, a heavy infantry company, or two.”  I was more than slightly bitter.  Men and women that I had been with through a liberation of an entire planet getting killed because someone on high had messed up was not something that I could just get over.  Nor was this corporate VIP worth the life of one of my Marines.  “Or we could have just left the VIP to rot.”

“We’re the sheepdogs.  The sheep go astray, we go get ‘em.  That’s what we do.”   So help me, she believed the crap she was spouting.  That the navy was the defender of the State.  She didn’t see that we were used-used for political purposes, or corporate profits.  The State didn’t care about the grunt, the Marine on the ground, the navy rating in the gun batter or the worker on the assembly line.  All it cared about was that we did our jobs and and that we didn’t rock the boat.  I was, quite literally an expendable asset.  So, when some vice manager or something or other for NOH goes missing, kidnapped by Angels, the slimy scumbags at the top look at their ledger and see that the ransom demand is worth more than one squad of recon Marines and tell us to go get him back.  As I laid there in the bed, I envied the Gallente, the Matari.  They had something worth fighting over, a true cause.

I snapped back into Marine mode to respond.  Don’t rock the boat, just get fixed.  Go from there.  “Yes, ma’am.  Sorry just stress.”

“You’re a good Marine, Nova, and a good woman.  You’ll get better and be back to normal in no time.  I’m still looking forward to being your maid of honor.”

“If there is one.”  I rolled my head to look her square in the eyes.  “Aliza, I’m worried.  Alexi is acting strange.”

“Don’t,” she replied.  “I’m sure it’s just the stress.  He was afraid he lost you.”  She stood up.  “I’ll talk to him, though.”  Alizabeth took a second to straighten out her uniform before continuing.  “Take care, Mel.  Honor before glory.”

“Death before dishonor,” I instinctively responded.

Flashes From the Past, Part One

Bhaalgorn after Bhaalgorn exploded in fiery death, tiny suns as their reactors went critical, or their capacitors overloaded.  Lasers streamed across the blackness of space, brilliant violet beams.  The battle was taking it’s toll, but the Imperial Navy task group simply had more ships-the way the Amarrians always won.  The last of our Bhaalgorns took a broadside from the remaining sole remaining Imperial battleship, an Apocalypse, amidships and simply broke in two; fire and bodies and derbies spewed out of the split in the hull.

My executive officer turned to me and simply said, “Command devolves to you, captain.”

“Acknowledged.  Message to all ships: Commander Dieudonne has command.”  I quickly ran my eyes over the tactical holo.  We were dead as long as that Apocalypse was still on the field.  And even after that, the odds were bad.  “Message to all ships:  Target!  Sierra 64.  Enemy battleship.  Focus fire on the port side, overload your guns until target is destroyed.  Fire at will.”  I turned to my XO.  “Kick the microwarp on, get to seven klicks and switch crystals to conflag.  Heat the guns until they melt or that ship-” I thrust my finger to the Apocalypse on the tactical holo “-does.”  It was a gamble, a huge one.  There were all sorts of nasty things that a battleship could do to a cruiser that close.  God is in the roll of the dice, I thought and then silently prayed it came up six.  The Ashimmu rumbled as the microwarp drive engaged and we sped towards destiny.

*****

BRS Pride of Alen limped into port on her own power.  The tugs gave her that, despite having to be towed through three systems, due to the fact that her warp drive no longer worked.  Under other circumstances it would be a pitiful sight, huge gouges, holes even, in her armour and hull.  Chunks larger than shuttles had been blown away and wisps of atmosphere trailed out.  Several of the laser mounts were simply not there, blown away by Amarrian weapons.  Beneath the hull, repair and rescue efforts were continuing even now.  But she was returning a victorious champion.  Of the twenty three Amarrian battleships, not a single one survived.  Of the seventeen cruisers and battlecruisers, not a single one survived.  Of the eleven frigates, not a single one survived.  The losses to Covenant were no less staggering, but we had managed to kill off the last battleship and out maneuver and destroy six battle cruisers and 6 frigates.  My crew was already calling it a miracle.  

The docking clamps locked into place and the ship shuddered.  My XO turned to me and said, “Ship secured, ma’am.”  

I nodded and pulled the helmet off of my suit.  The first thing that hit me was the smell.  Smoke and charred flesh, burnt electronics.  The bridge had taken a hit, a hard hit.  One of the Harbinger’s lasers burned through seven decks, and had finally run out of energy at the deck above.  Chunks and fragments of bulkhead and deck plating had ripped though the bridge like flechettes.  The armoured combat suits we wore stopped most of it, but my com officer and eight other ratings were killed.  They still laid where they had fallen.  The scene on the bridge was mirrored in other compartments across the ship.

“Tell DC teams to be ready for relights when the O2 starts to flow again.  All station DC teams have permission to board.  You have the bridge.”  I tucked my helmet under my arm and headed to the lift.  “I’m going to take charge of the DC teams.”  Now that we were safely in dock, the reasons keeping me on the bridge were gone.  The lift doors opened and I stepped in.

I had just enough time to hear the XO say, “Aye, ma’am, I have the bridge,” before the doors closed.  I ran my gloved fingers through my short cropped blond hair and took in a deep breath.

*****

Deck 5, bulkhead 30 was a wreck of twisted metal.  The compartment beyond had been sealed off due to a massive hull breach and a fuel cell fire near the end of the battle.  Lined up outside the hatch was a DC team in firefighting gear, ready to go, simply standing there.  I strode up to the ensign in command of the team and he stiffened seeing me, the gold trim on my combat suit identifying me as an extremely important person.  He downright turned to stone when he saw my rank.

“Captain!”  He nearly shouted at me in the crispest parade ground voice that I had heard in quite a while.  But I was having none of it.

“Why is your team just waiting out here?  There’s crew trapped in there.”  I snarled at him.  

He stammered back, “it’s still hot; there could be flare ups if we open the hatch, ma’am.”

My first strike impacted his nose, causing it to splinter and break and shards of bone to go into his brain. There was no second strike; with my enhanced body, one was enough.  The Blood Raiders were not very tolerant of failures, which worked out well.  Neither was I.

I turned to the DC team, “Come on men, do you want to live forever?”  I slammed my helmet into place and, with the amplification servos built into the suit, ripped the hatch off it’s fittings and charged into the inferno.

*****

I strutted in the bar like I owned the place, in my dress uniform, a finely tailored, sharp looking outfit of red and black with gold trim.  I knew that I was not going to be buying my own drinks tonight.  My bridge officers were already there, at a booth, talking amongst themselves, similarly dressed as myself.  My XO stood and raised his glass.

“Skipper!” he yelled.  I smiled in response and took my seat.  The bartender had a glass of beer already waiting for me and I raised it.

“To victory,” I said.  We all took a drink.  My XO, Lt. Commander Verrue offered the next traditional toast.

“To those with God,” he said, more somberly.  

“Allet,” I responded with my bridge crew.

My OPS officer, Lieutenant Caprasio, asked, “What’s the final number, skipper?”

I sighed lightly, “twenty seven confirmed dead, thirteen more missing and presumed dead.  Ninety wounded.  One executed.”

“Who’d you shoot, skipper?”

“That new ensign, Trappe.  Too afraid to breach a compartment for DC.  Worthless piece of amphibian shit.”  My bridge crew nodded their agreement.  I continued, “Harvester teams rescued a good part of the crews from the rest of the fleet, which is good news.  The also rescued-” this was greeted with a light chuckle “-a decently large percentage of the Amarrian crews.  And since we have no other ships to share the prize money with.”  I trailed off, smiling.  It was promising to be a good week for all of us.  “The bad news,” I darkened, “is that there were no clones aboard the enemy ships.  So no pure blood”

The man in the booth behind me snorted, loudly.  I whip turned my head to see an older man in the robes of a clergyman, but not a Blood Raider, that much was clear.  I snapped, “You say something, old man?”

He turned and scoffed again.  “Pure blood, from clones?”  He sounded dismissive.  “Next thing you know you’ll be offering up synthetic blood packs.”  He chuckled derisively.

“And just who the frell are you?”  The anger within me grew, raging.  “Do you know who the frell I am?  Blood Raider.”  As far as things went in Delve the Blood Raiders were at the top of who’s who.  

“Easy skipper, he’s Order of the Chalice,” said Verrue.

I turned back around, “And that means frell all to me.”

My XO continued in a much steadier pace, “Sabik clerics.  Well respected, devout.  They used to be a part of the Covenant.”

I fought to control my rage, to keep myself from turning around and breaking the priest’s neck, and took deep breaths.  My rise to my current rank had been meteoric, a full commander in less than a year.  The Sani Sabik were very rewarding of success.  And after the battle today, captain’s stars were most likely in the near future.  But a side effect of that rise was that I did not know as much as some of my crew about the inner political workings of the Sani Sabik.  Executing an ensign for cowardice, would not be a blink of an eye for my superiors.  If I killed this priest, the response from my superiors might be anything from me being chewed out to serious repercussions.  

“Alright, priest, leave us the frell alone and keep your opinions to your self.”  My mood soured, I turned back to my officers and finished the evening drinking with them.  But I could not help but think about the priest’s words as I lay awake in bed that night.

Holy Vows Part One

The Basilica of Eternal Devotion, more commonly called the temple, was on the southern facing on the mountain where our fortress cathedral was located.  It was situated out on salient so the stained glass windows were never in shadow.  My priory walked the thousand steps across the Path of Purity that lead from the rest of the fortress cathedral to the basilica. The Path of Purity was one thousand paces long, made of black volcanic glass, cut and polished smooth.  Laser etched onto the surface were some of the more devotional verses.  Across the way, set apart from everything else, I could see massive laser batteries, shield emitters, and jamming arrays carved into the rock.  I shook my head briefly and cleared it from all distractions, using the rest of the path to focus my thoughts.

The basilica was an imposing structure, rising almost two hundred meters into the air, two hundred meters wide and six hundred meters long.  It was the first structure constructed after the exodus from the Amarr Empire.  By and large the workers only used the most basic equipment; more often than not they used hand tools.  The arches and columns were intricacy carved and stained glass windows portraying important moments in the lives of the saints lined the long walls.  Nine hundred and ninety-nine gargoyles perched on the edges of the roof, sneering down at those who would walk near.  But the most imposing fact of the architecture was that the basilica’s exterior walls were all black marble.

We reached the portal, two oak doors, each twenty feet tall and entered the basilica proper.  The narthex had four bowls lining the wall, silver basins containing water.  An archaic stone statue of Saint Apollyon was placed on the east side and Saint Sagredia on the west.  Unlike the exterior walls, the inside walls were cherry wood, darkly stained.  The artificial lighting was kept dim, so as to not overpower the candles and torches that cast ever shifting shadows over the room.  

I walked over to one of the bowls and dipped my hands in the blessed water.  Then, with my hands still wet I touched my forehead, my mouth and my chest.  “Oh God, may my thoughts, my words and my soul be acceptable in your sight as I enter your sanctum.”  The ritual complete, I walked into the naive and my priory followed.

The temple never failed to impress.  Unlike the narthex, the interior of the temple was all stone, hand fashioned and carefully laid.  The only light came from flaming braziers on the walls and the interior columns.  The carpeting on the central aisle leading to the altar  was, of course, blood red and fastened to the floor with brilliant brass tacks on the side.  The rows of pews where hand carved mahogany wood.  As a small gesture to the members of the order, who would sometimes be sitting for several hours, they were cushioned.  

Since the service was for an initiation of a member of my priory and since I was going to be participating heavily in the sacraments, we walked to the front of the temple to the very first pew and sat.  After I adjusted my habit, I gazed on the altar.  The same altar had been used since the founding of our order; it was one of the few things that they brought with them in the exodus from Amarr.  It was a glossy black stone, or so it appeared.  The centuries, millennia even, of sacrifice and use had removed or filled in all the imperfections and coloured it.  Emblazoned in gold on the front was the Chalice emblem of our order that gleamed in the firelight; this was the only portion that was cleaned.

To the right of the altar stood the pulpit, where the bishop would deliver sermons.  The cherry wood was bedecked with mottled red cloth.  Again, carved into the wood was the Chalice.  Behind it was a raised section for the choir, which started to file in.  The orchestra filed in right behind.  They  started playing a march, with the soprano section providing choral overtones.

The bishop’s procession started to walk in.  Arch Bishop Alar’s robes were the same mottled red as my scapular and the long train required four boys to help carry.  Another carried the bishop’s Liber Sani.  Abbess Verchar of the Sagredia Abbey, my superior walked behind along with other abbots and abbesses.  Behind them walked several nuns and monks, each carried something significant: the Caerimonia Chalice, the incense brazier, the Sani Capilum.  Callie trailed the procession, having to walk twice as fast to keep up due to her size.  She was wearing the black silk robe that I had put on her still.

The procession went to their seats, but little Callie went to stand in front of the altar and faced the congregation.  My maternal instinct, what little I had left felt for the girl; I remembered when it was my time to stand there.  She bowed her head and found an interesting spot on the carpet to stare at while the bishop took the pulpit.

His rich baritone voice boomed out across the temple.  “Brothers and sisters!  Rejoice, for today another joins our order.  Rejoice, as a soul finds its place in the cosmos.  Rejoice, as our order becomes stronger!  Callista Hinderville has been examined and found worthy.  She has been cleansed and prepared for this day-this day she takes her destiny.  This day she claims her spot in Paradise.  This day she truly becomes Sani Sabik!”  Inside I beamed.  She would be a good addition to my priory.

“We believe in the Red God, Creator of all, Master of the Universe.  We believe!  Faith takes strength; devotion to God takes courage.  The weak stare at the truth their whole lives, but deny the existence of God because they are afraid!  God calls each of us, but only a few answer.  Today, Callista answers the call.  She stares unflinchingly back at God and says, ‘here I am.’”

“We have failed to be a perfect creation.  Not a one of us is perfect!  We have our flaws, our weaknesses.  Callista is no different.  But she is stronger for acknowledging them!  The fools, the week look at themselves and say there is nothing that they can make better.”

“We believe that redemption is possible for anyone, but that only a few are able to prove themselves worthy and that each of us are responsible for our own salvation.  She has proved herself.  Her strength compels her to seek God and her own place in Paradise.  The strong see what they want and take it; the weak, they are slaves to others, needing guidance.  They drift lost, without purpose.”

“We believe that redemption requires a Blood Sacrifice.  That only through Blood Sacrifice can we prove ourselves worth God’s grace and that only He can purify us.  The taint of sins can only be washed away in blood.  Blood!  Today she offers blood for her sins, so that she can be pure enough to enter Paradise.  The strong conquer the weak this is the nature of the universe.  Self sacrifice-don’t make me laugh.  The Sani Sabik are strong, we sacrifice others to God.  The blood of sinners, the blood of the unbelievers, we will fill the valley once again!”  

This elicited spontaneous cries from the congregation.  “God is Great!  We are His Chosen.  We will fill the valley!”  I joined in.  The bishop continued once the cries had died down.

“Let us pray.”  He waited until we had bowed our heads.  “God of All, we come before you today to lift up Callista to the Sabik.  She comes before you just as she is, cleaned, blessed and with an offering of blood.  We come with her, as her brothers and sisters in faith, bound together by our devotion to you.  Today she takes her holy orders and becomes a part of our order and dedicates her life to you.  Allet.”

After the prayer was over, I stood and walked over to stand next to Callie.  The bishop and abbess came over as well.  I gently placed my hand on her shoulder and she looked up at me, confident.  I smiled just a tiny bit.

“Kneel, Callie,” I said and she slowly went down on her knees.  She briefly touched the small vial at her neck before clasping her hands together.  

The bishop addressed the congregation, “When the Eve Gate collapsed.”

To which we responded together, “we did not lose our faith.”

“In the Dark Age.”

“We did not lose our faith.”

“When the false emperor took the throne.”

“We did not lose our faith.”

“During the Long Night.”

“We did not lose our faith.”

“In the torture chambers and dungeons of the Amarrian Inquisition.”

“We did not lose our faith.”

“When we were forced out of our home.”

“We did not lose our faith.”

He turned.  “Today, Callista, you join that faith.  Will you face your tests with the same faith and determination that those who came before you did?”

She spoke with confidence, “I will.”

He turned back, “We are guided by the Scriptures.”

“And by the teachings of the saints.”

“Saint Apollyon stood against two hundred templars of the Amarr Empire, unafraid, because even though he was alone, God was with him.  Saint Jahi saved countless numbers of the Sani Sabik from the hands of the Amarrian Inquisition.  Saint Sagredia by faith and sacrifice held back the Dorian Plague.  They prove that through God all things are possible.  Callista, will you study the Scriptures and follow in the example of the saints?”

Again, she said, “I will.”

“Holy, holy, holy Lord.  God of power and God of might.  The heavens and earth are full of your glory.  It is right to give our thanks and praise.  Callista, with you dedicate your life to the praise and worship of the Red God?

“I will.”

“Callista, as a member of this order will you uphold our traditions, our sacraments?”

“I will.”

The bishop smiled broadly.  “Then Callista Hinderville, take your solemn vows.”

Callie bowed her head.  “I pledge my life, my existence, to the worship of God, to the study of the Scripture, to the Order of the Chalice, to the perfection of myself.  I solemnly swear to uphold the traditions and honor of the Order of the Chalice and the Sani Sabik.  Before God and man I swear this.”

The bishop nodded to the abbess and myself and we placed our hands on Callie’s head.  The bishop prayed again, “God, bless this girl as she seeks to walk the path that you have set out for her.  Give her strength, give her inspiration.  May she never know doubt, or weakness.  May she seek to serve you in all things.  Allet.”

The choir struck up, the bass section singing low in ancient Amarrish, “There is a fountain filled with blood, drawn from children’s veins.”  I clicked off my translator.  I knew the words, and was getting quite familiar with ancient Amarrish.  Listening to such a stilling song in Napanii made it lose much of it’s impact. At the last verse one of the nuns brought the Vitama to stand in front of the Altar.

I glanced over at the child, clad in white silk; she looked a little lost, a little fearful and a little confused.  For such an important Mass, the Vitama would be unmarked, unused in any way.  She looked around the temple, the small Caldari girl about five or six years old, and I could see the sense of dread slowly sinking into her.  At one point I would have felt sorry or pity for her, but that point was now long past.

Callie looked at me and I nodded almost imperceptibly back.  She stood and strode to the alter and her sacrifice to God.  With no hesitation, Callie took the oversized robe off the child, who only made a small whimper of protest and covered the altar with it; then, she picked up the Vitama and placed her sitting on the alter.  The little brown haired girl squirmed, perhaps recognizing the malevolence, and tried to get away, but Callie put her hand firmly on the little girl’s pushed her down on the altar.  The assisting nun reached out and snatched on of the Vitama’s arms and pulled it into the loop of rope and tightened it, then pulled it taunt.  I did the same with the other arm and then we tied the legs.  The rope bit into the girl’s skin as she struggled and writhed; she stopped, though, after a moment, as she realized the futility of her attempts.  She looked directly at me and started to cry softly, in an attempt to elicit sympathy; I looked back down on her, filled with the conviction of my faith, the purity of my purpose and touched her cheek gently to calm her.  Cruelty was unnecessary and uncalled for.

I stepped back, unsheathed my dagger and handed it to Callie.  She took the blade, bowed her head and spoke a brief prayer softly under her breath.  When Callie raised her head back up I could see the conviction in her eyes.  She pressed the gleaming blade into the Vitama’s wrist and slowly cut down half way to the elbow.  The little girl squealed and howled in pain, but Callie did not stop.  She moved to the other arm and repeated the action.  Blood welled up from the cuts and flowed onto the silk cloth, ever expanding splotches of red.

“Lord, we offer you this child, her blood, the purist of the pure that it may wipe the blemish of sin from us all,” the bishop said.

With Callie’s first cuts complete I retrieved my dagger and stepped forward.  The two cuts on the inner thighs took practice.  It was very easy to miss the femoral artery, so they required someone with demonstrated skill to preform it.  I twisted the dagger in my hand and plunged it deep into the Vitama’s upper thigh.  She yelled again, louder as the pain overwhelmed her senses.  I saw the bright red almost spurt from the wound and dragged the blade down her thigh.  The blood flowed freely from the gash, drenching the silk cloth and dripping down the altar.  Quickly, I did the same to the other leg, with the same results.

“Callista, take your place in Paradise.  Claim your salvation, become Sabik.  This is your sacrifice, your blood,” I said and held up the dagger for her.  When she stepped close to take it, I whispered to her, “this is the truth of the Sani Sabik.  We are not weak, humble; we demand our salvation.  Finish it and look up at God and be proud, for you have not faltered.”

She nodded and took the dagger from me.  The small child bound to the altar was breathing only just so and the colour had drained from her skin.  Her screaming had stopped, although she was still conscious.  As Callie steeped forward, the child whimpered.

“Please, no,” she begged, pathetic and weak, near death.  But, like all the ones that had come before, all like all the ones to come, her pleas were ignored and Callie sliced her throat.

Preperations

The abbey’s dining hall was well decorated, with various mosaics, tapestries, and stained glass windows, all religious in nature and kept with the red and black theme of the rest of the fortress cathedral.  There were only a few common tables, large enough to seat twenty sisters each and every one sat together, from the newest initiate to the abbess, or the arch bishop, if he ever deigned to eat in our abbey.  The food was very good as the cooks were sisters that had shown some talent in the culinary arts.  Today I wanted something light though as there would be a celebratory feast for Callie after Mass, so I ordered a simple chicken salad sandwich on a flakey pastry with some crisps.  I grabbed an apple and a drink as well and sat.

I picked the table that was the most occupied, since I had been stuck in my chambers with Callie for almost twenty hours, except for a bit of sleep; the company at the table would be much appreciated.  

“Sisters,” I said, greeting them all.  It was returned by those sitting closest around me.

“Prioress,” said Sister Jaqie, a short homely woman in her mid thirties.  “Are we getting a new sister in the abbey today?”  Sister Jaqie was a member of the Priory of the Bells.  All priories in the abbey were named after significant parts in the life of Saint Sagredia, the namesake and patron of our abbey.

I nodded in the affirmative.  “She passed with flying colours and will be taking her vows tonight.”  A few of the other sisters expressed their happiness at the news.  A new sister was indeed a joyous occasion.  “So don’t eat too much,” I said to the sisters and then felt immediately stupid as I saw their empty plates-everyone else was more or less finished with lunch.

“I’m very happy to hear that, prioress.  A friend of mine was actually one of her mentors in the Jahi Abbey: Canoness Alamedia.  She will be glad to hear that her student has ascended to our ranks.”

“She’s not going to be at Mass tonight?”  Usually, the mentors of the initiate would be present for the taking of vows.  Few in the Sani Sabik would want to miss a moment of personal triumph.

“Sadly, she cannot.  Other duties require her to be away,” Jaqie responded.  “Which is why she asked me to send her a message as to the outcome of the examination.”

I nodded.  “Well tell her that she is to be commended for her work.  Sister Callie was well schooled.”  As soon as the words were out of my mouth I scarfed down a couple of bites of my sandwich.  I only had a little time to eat; if I spent all of it talking, my growling stomach would bother me all through Mass.

Jaqie smiled.  “I’ll be sure to let her know.”  She stood with her empty plate in hand; most of the other sisters had left by now.  “Go with God, prioress,” she said, then left, leaving me alone to finish my meal, which I did posthaste.  

Upon leaving the dining hall I returned to the priory commons.  A quick check of my chrono, using my implants not an actual watch, revealed that we were not pressed for time, but would be if we dallied.  Callie still had her ablutions to do and I still had to get dressed in full regalia.  I threw the door open and walked quickly to the back of the room.  Two of the sisters were in the commons; I returned their greetings without slowing down.

The door to Callie’s cell was closed.  I peered through the small hole cut into the oak door; she was inside kneeling silently.  So as to not interrupt her in the middle of a prayer or some other quiet contemplation, I opened the door slowly and stood just in side, silently.  If she did not react to me in short order I would be forced to interrupt, but that was not a preferred course of action.  As it turned out, she looked up almost immediately.

“Prioress,” she said.  “Sister Lucciele got me my robe for the service.”  

“Good.  But first, we need to do your ablutions.  Come on, follow me.”  I exited the cell, with Callie in tow.  There were bathing facilities in the priory commons, but the ritual baths were in the greater abbey.  We made out way quickly through the halls to the baths.

The room was comprised solely of red marble and bedecked with golden thread silk drapes and curtains.  Sister Lucciele was already there, in a simple white, flowing pullover gown.  The ritual soaps and oils were set out in the order that they were to be used and and the large octagonal bath was filled with steamy clear water.  I started to get undressed and Callie followed my example.  There was a rack to hang my habit on.  On one of the hooks was an identical gown to the one Lucciele wore for myself, which I put on as soon as I was undressed.  Callie stayed unclothed.

We stepped over to the edge of the bath pool and I placed my hand on the top of Callie’s head, bowed my head and prayed.  “God of All, we come before you, unclean.  We purify our bodies, so that you may purify our souls.  Allet.”  Lucciele and Callie raised their heads as I did.  Callie looked up at me, as if asking for permission; which, she was.  I nodded and she stepped into the hot water, down the steps built into the bath, until she was able to submerge her head while standing.  Once she did, she walked back up and Lucciele took the first soap and washed her feet.

The process continued each time.  Into the bath and then out.  Each time Callie was out a different part of her body was washed: her feet, then calves, thighs, pelvis, stomach, chest, upper arms, lower arms, hands, face and finally hair.  There were two versions of the ritual, one with just the participant and one with the participant and the assistant.  The order favoured the latter as it increased the bond between the sisters.  Once the washing was complete Callie stood dripping on the marble floor.

Sister Lucciele poured the blessed and consecrated anointing oil into a bowl and stood beside me, holding it.  I dipped the index and middle finger of my right hand into the bowl and then placed them on top of Callie’s head.  “In the name of the Red God, I bless you,” I said.  I did the same thing to her forehead, again saying, “In the name of the Red God, I bless you.”  Again I dipped my fingers in the oil and touched her throat.  Again, I said the appropriate words.  I did the same to her heart, just below her ribs, her pelvis and the base of her spine, always with the ritualistic phrase.

When I finished I walked over to the rack and grabbed a black silk wraparound robe and put it on to Callie-who stuck out her arms to help me-and tied the sash around her waist.  “Your now ready to take your vows.  Go to the shrine to Saint Sagredia in the cloister and spend the time in contemplation until someone comes for you.”  The sun was setting and the exterior cloister would be a bit chilly and the robe would do nothing to keep her warm.  She bowed and left.

I helped Sister Lucciele clean up the soaps and oils and then drained the bath.  Once everything was away we gave the baths a light cleaning, but a more thorough one would be needed when we were not pressed for time.  “This will have to do,” I said.  “For now at least.  We’ll finish up tomorrow.”  

Lucciele gave her assent and put the tools up.  I grabbed my habit from the rack and draped it on one arm and Lucciele did the same.  We would both be changing, so there was no point in putting our habits on for the three hundred meter walk to the priory commons just to take them off again.  When we reached the priory commons I gave my parting instructions to Sister Lucciele, “Make sure that you have Callie’s habit set up before the service.”  One she had acknowledged her instructions, I walked into my chambers.

I stripped off my gown and walked to my closet, reached all the way to the left and grabbed my full regalia habit.  This would be the second time that I wore it.  It was not difficult to put on, per se, however it was so in that everything had to be perfect.  This was, however, the first time that I put on my pellegrina, the other time I had worn it, the bishop had put it on me.  Satisfied that everything was properly on, I attached my dagger and Liber Sani to my belt.

I sat in my chair, reached into my drawer and brought out a red velvet cloth, a stone, blessed oil and another softer cloth of white linen.  Then, I unsheathed my dagger and placed it on the cloth.  The silver blade gleamed and laster etched into the blade, in ancient Amarrish, was the phrase ‘To you, oh God, we Sacrifice.’  Keeping the etching clean of blood was the most difficult part of the dagger rituals.  

“Bless this blade, oh God, that I may use it to please you.  May the edges be sharp to let the blood flow to sacrifice to You.  With this dagger I claim my salvation.  I consecrate this dagger to Your service, never to be used except to please You.  Allet.”  The ritual prayer flowed from my mouth with practiced ease. I wetted the stone with the oil and ran it over the edges of the blade several times.  The sound that it made was most pleasing.  Schick, schick, shick.  I sharpened the silver alloy double edges.  When I was satisfied that I had sharpened enough, I grabbed a piece of parchment and held it out in front of me.  The sharpened edge tore through the parchment like a razor blade; I smiled.  “The Blood I spill is Yours, oh God.  This blade is Yours, oh God.  The hand that guides it is Yours, oh God.  The soul that commands the hand is Yours, oh God.  May this forever be so.  Allet.”  Upon completion of the lyrical chant I sheathed the blade and stood, and walked out the the priory commons.

There was a medium sized, about the size of my head, iron bell hanging in the front of the  commons.  I picked up a rubber hammer and hit the bell.  At my signal all the sisters emerged from their cells all dressed for the service.  The formed up in a double file.  I turned to Sister Lucciele, “Go summon Callie to the temple.”  She walked of with a purpose and I turned to the other two in line and nodded.  When I walked off they followed me.  The only sound that followed me as I walked to the temple was a rustling of skirts.

The Priory of Daggers

I stood before the assembled council, naked, not even shoes on my feet, as they questioned me.

 “Prioress, I have been told that you come before us today to request your leave.”  The bishop’s gravel voice echoed across in the black marble chamber.  “Tell us why you wish to leave this Order and these halls.”  I winced internally, that was the worst way to phrase it.

 My soprano voice rang true, “Your grace.” I addressed the bishop.  “My Lady,” I turned to the abbess and then two priests, “your Lordships.  I simply seek the opportunity to learn more than these walls can teach.  I have learned much in my time here, but there are many more cults in the cluster, worshiping the Red God in their own way.”  I swallowed and continued, “I want to learn their way.”  After they had time to soak that in, I continued, “All that I have asked for is one or two days out of the month.  I’m a pod pilot, a trip across the cluster to Branch or Venal would not take very long for me.”

 “Are you saying that we are wrong?”  My abbess spoke with a sharp tone.  “That this order is somehow not worshiping Him in the way he ordains?” 

 “No, my Lady, I am simply saying that they may be other, different ways.  Neither more or less correct, just different.”  I knew that my request placed me on some thin ice, but it was something that I felt called to do.

One of the priest spoke, a ancient man with an appetite for young girls-not just their blood.  “To what end?”

 “Should we not all want to worship Him as best we can, your Lordship?”  I paused then continued on.  “I would also seek to chronicle all that I learned, compiling it into a codex so that others may benefit of my knowledge and experience.”

“And this request for neocom usage?” the bishop asked.  “There is a reason that you are here, cloistered in your abbey.  I understand that your capabilities put you in a unique class, but still.”

“Your Grace, the usage would be sparring, possibly one or two hours a day.  Again, simply talking to members of other cults would be of great benefit.  And again, my status as a capsuleer would allow me access that bas-non capsuleers would not have.”

 The bishop nodded slowly, I was happy to notice, before speaking.  “You idea has merit, prioress.  We will discuss it.  Remain here.”  

 The bishop stood; his robes were at one time a pure white, but were now a mottled red brown color, dyed in blood across centuries.  The others in the conclave stood and filed out slowly.  I stood stock still, goosebumps rising on my naked flesh, trying not to show my nervousness.  After they left I let out the breath that I did not know that I had been holding.

*****

 The conclave filed back in the chamber and sat on the raised dais, made of ancient wood, taking their seats.  The bishop cleared his throat.

 “Prioress, we have reviewed your request, discussed it.  You will be required to maintain contact with your abbess, keeping her appraised of your travels and experiences to ensure that you remain pure and with out taint. In addition, she will also monitor your neocom usage.  She may recall you at any time; failure to return will be prima facie evidence of heresy. .”  The bishop's emphasis on the last word chilled my bones.  “Do you understand?”

 “Yes, your grace.”

 “Good.”  The bishop continued gravely.  “We will consecrate you and your blood for odyssey.  Prepare yourself and be in the temple in four hours.  You're dismissed.”

 I spun on my heel and marched out of the room, through the massive oak door and grabbed my habit off the rack on the wall, bitching mentally about the temperature of the room.  Old bastard just wanted to see my nipples hard, I thought, smiling to myself.  I put on the three layers of my habit with practiced ease, and made my way back into the cloister.  Without announcing my presence I entered, taking note of the various dozen or so girls engaged in various activities, in various states of dress and undress.  The one closest to the door noticed me first, giving me a slight bow.

 “Prioress,” she said.  The rest of the sisters dropped what they were doing, along with what they had in their hand to bow lightly.

 “Sisters,” I smiled at them.  “Don’t let me stop you.  However . . . however, I regret to inform you that I will be leaving soon.  All of you are required to be ready for the temple in three and a half hours time.”  I turned to look at my aide.  “Sister Lucciele.”

 “Yes prioress.”

 “Have Lucy brought to my chambers,” I said, and turned back to walk into my chambers, not bothering to wait for her acknowledgement.  Sighing, I sat down in my chair and undid the first few buttons on my robe, leaned back and relaxed.  I had been before the conclave thrice before, and every time was a nerve wracking experience.  The red marble walls of my chambers were a welcome relief and, I hoped, Lucy more so.  A knock on the door brought me back to my senses.  “Enter”

 A young Ni-Kunni woman entered and made a polite curtsey, brightening my mood instantly.  A bright eyed, beautiful, but dull witted girl, Lucy had come to the order seven years ago, when she was ten years old.  One of my first acts as prioress was to have her removed from my priory as a sister and moved into a role that she was more suited for-a servant.

 Lucy had cried when I told her that she was never going to be Sabik.  She had no sense of ritual, trouble memorizing Scriptures; her comprehension was not up to the required level.  I explained to her the way of the universe, that some were destined to lead, others to serve and that she was simply the latter category.  It did not mean that she could not still serve the Red God, just in a different capacity, as my own personal servant.  She had taken to her role with a gusto, and had wound up a much better servant than she ever was a sister.

 The girl looked at me with her deep blue doe eyes and a wide smile, which I returned.  After holding her gaze for a few minutes, I held out my hand for her to take.  Soft fingers interlaced mine and I pulled her into my lap, and held her close.  

 “Hello, my dear,” I whispered softly into her ear as my hands roamed over her body, unfastening her dress.  Lucy giggled softly and squirmed, but didn’t fight my roaming hands.  The dress was easy to pull off of her and made a satisfying swoosh when it hit the floor.  My darling little servant girl inhaled sharply when I bit her shoulder and then whimpered when I clamped down harder.  I reached my hand around and grabbed her throat, possessively, no pressure applied.  Smiling to myself, I grabbed her chin, tilted her head to me and kissed her deeply, controlling.  She melted, turned to putty in my hands.

 I picked her up, off my lap and threw her to the bed.  She looked back up at me, never losing her doe eyed meek look.  That’s why I came to love her so easily, I suppose, no matter what, that was always how she looked at me.  My eye’s pierced hers and I smiled as she trembled.  Deft fingers unhooked the red velvet pellegrina from my shoulders and I pulled the scapular, mottled red with dried blood, over my head.  Blue eyes watched my every move as I unbuttoned my black 

robe and slipped it off, letting it pool at my feet.

*****

 An hour later we were both happy and snuggling, with me holding Lucy tightly to me.  I stroked Lucy gently, idly, all the while thinking of my upcoming odyssey.  When I came here, I intended to learn, and learn I had, rising to prioress in near record time.  My time in the order had given me a new understanding of Him, what he demanded of His servants.  The last remaining bits of my old life had been washed away, but I knew, I knew, that there was more out there.  The foundation that I built was solid, but needed to be built upon.

 “Lucy?” I whispered.  No response, much to my chagrin.  To get her attention, I lightly nipped Lucy’s ear, causing her to yelp softly.  

 “Yes, Sang?”

“Help me get ready for temple-the full regalia.  There is a special Mass tonight.”

That shocked her.  “Full?!”  Full regalia was no simple outfit.  It was only worn on certain special occasions: high holidays, special services, festivals and the like.  To date, I had worn my full regalia exactly twice before.

“They’re consecrating me.  There is to be a full Mass, including sacrifice and then the consecration.”

Understanding came over her.  “Ah, yes.  Of course, full regalia.”

She rolled off the bed and stood, walking over to my closet.  I grinned and admired the view as she pulled out the requisite garments.  After a short moment I hopped off the bed and followed her.  I gave Lucy a quick peck on her cheek and hopped in the shower.  

Years of practice in the military meant that I was able to shower quickly and efficiently.  I dried off equally as quickly, but drying my hair took a good bit longer.  Still, it took only a few minutes with the hair dryer.  A quick bit of makeup and I went back to the  main chambers and went back over to Lucy.

I grabbed a pair of black silk stockings from my drawer and slide them on, maybe teasing Lucy a bit too much while I did so.  Then I grabbed the matching garter belt and black lace underskirt and put them on.  Topping that, Lucy helped me slip on my formal robe, black velvet with gold trim on the hem, cuffs and down the centre line.  The habit came up to button over my throat.  I walked over to the hook where I had hung my scapular and slipped that on.  Like the priest’s stole or the bishop’s pallium, the monks and sisters of the order only have one scapular.  It is always dyed in blood, sometimes from a sacrifice or, in the instance of taking holy vows, a small token amount from the superiors of the sister.  Over the scapular I placed my belt, tight against my waist and buckled it, black patent leather with a simple gold buckle.  Lucy handed me my pellegrina, dark red velvet, and placed it on my shoulders, then reached around to fasten it.  Then she helped me brush my hair before placing the black veil, adorned with a gold filigree on the edges, on top of my head, in a way which left a good bit of my blond hair showing.  I reached over to my dresser and grabbed the symbol of my priory, a short, heavy gold necklace with a tiny dagger pendant and fastened it around my neck.  To this I also added a symbol of my religion, a ruby broach, cut and polished to resemble a drop of blood and pinned it to my throat.  

To my belt I added on my left hip my Liber Sani on a gold chain.  Each Liber Sani is different.  Each member of the order created their own Liber Sani, taking parts of the Scriptures, either verses, chapters, or even whole books and transcribing them, by hand with blood ink, into their Liber Sani.  The book itself is bound in black leather with gold letting indicating the person it belongs to.  It is also secured with a gold lock; only the superiors of the member are allowed to read it and then only for specific reasons.  The content of one’s Liber Sani is a major criteria for advancement in the order.  The archbishop of the order’s Liber Sani was several thousand pages and weighed thirty pounds.  He had a slave child who’s sole purpose was to carry his Liber Sani.

On my right side I added a silver dagger with a ruby pommel jewel.  The priory’s name was not just for show, the dagger would be used, possibly more than once before the Mass was over.  Sharpening my dagger was part of my daily rituals; it had a razor’s edge.

I stood still while Lucy looked over me, making sure my hair was straight, my habit correct and free of lint, and that everything was just in order.  “Well, my dear, everything in order?”

Lucy smiled up at me, “Yes prioress, everything looks good.”  I patted her head.

“Good, then go get cleaned up and get ready for temple.”

Lucy gave me a light bow, grabbed her dress and, without bothering to put it on sauntered out of my chambers.

            Once she was gone I took off my ring and replaced it with my signet ring.  I  was loath to take it off, as my ring was much more of a symbol than my signet right.  It was a promise, a token of true love, a love that I swore that I would return to.  There was not a day that went by where I did not think of him, my beloved.  Also, my necklace, the symbol of my faith-a small golden vial filled with blood, was on the dresser top.  A very loyal slave had given me it, when I first started on this path, a gift filled with her own blood.  Every time I saw it, my thoughts turned to the stars wondering how she was doing.  My faithful, beloved slave-she made the short list of two people that I missed the most.  I slipped it on, hanging on a much longer chain to hang near my heart.

 I double checked my habit once more before slipping on my shoes and exiting my chambers.  Outside, in priory commons the sisters under my charge were dressed already in habits much simpler than mine.  Sister  Lucciele was going over Sister Callie's, my newest charge and the only sister that I had inducted myself, habit.    I strutted over and took over.  My keen eyes looked over every seam, searching for loose threads.  I glanced over her scapular, with only a few splatters of blood on an otherwise brilliant white surface.  It took just a second before I found the splatter that belonged to me.

*****

            A knock on the  door broke my reverie.  "Enter, " I called out and a friar in service to the bishop entered and bowed.  He had a brownish parchment envelope in his left hand.

            "Prioress," he said.  The word still felt alien to me; I had only been made prioress the week before.  "The bishop commands your person to his office."  The friar held out the envelope for me to take, no doubt the official summons.

            "Very well," I said and reached out and took the envelope.  Prioress Sanguina was written in elegant calligraphy, with blood ink.  The latter marked it as official.  Still though, I knew what it said so just placed it on my dresser.  My veil was laying neatly on my desk corner; I grabbed it and put it on then turned to address the friar.  "Inform the bishop that I will arrive presently."

            The friar bowed and left after giving a brief acknowledgement of my reply.  Three days after being promoted to prioress, I had been given an official summons.  My mind ran through all the reasons why.  It could not have been a bad reason, or it would have been two of the militant monks sent to escort me.  I slipped on my shoes and headed out after the friar.

            The walk from my chambers to the bishop's office took thirty minutes.  The Order of the Chalice had a massive fortress carved into the side of a mountain.  The fortress home housed five of the nine abbeys of the order and their subsequent priories.  As luck would have it the Sagredia Abby was housed on the opposite side of the mountain as the Ordo Administratio.

            I walked quickly, my cyber enhanced body not tiring or fatiguing and turned my thoughts inward.  Years of military service, and one instance in particular, had ingrained into me that a summons was bad news.  Despite all the reasons to the contrary, I could not shake the feeling of dread.  But still, I walked on.  Eventually, but well before I expected it, I entered the arcade leading to the Administratio.

            The air was warmer here, since I had descended a few thousand feet from my starting point and I was on the side of the mountain receiving the afternoon sun.  The arcade let in a goodly amount of sunlight, warming my face and improving my mood significantly.  I took a deep breath of fresh mountain air and smiled a bit before opening the door to the Administratio proper. 

            The office was, for the order, very active.  Seven or eight monks were at their desks, talking amongst themselves, about what I did not notice.  The friar which had summoned me was at a desk in front of a massive mahogany door.  After exchanging some quick words with the friar he stood and opened the door for me to enter.

            I marched through the door and to the front of the bishop's desk.  "Your  Grace,"  I said and made a bow.

           

            "Prioress," he acknowledged and motioned for me to sit in one of the two chairs.  That meant that I was going to be here for a while; I sat.  He continued once I was settled.  "You're about to meet your first real test as prioress.  You have a new charge arriving later today.  Callie Valista.  She's eleven years old-" he briefly checked his files "-and the daughter of Francis Valista, a minor prefect administrator in the system.  She's been studying at one of our cannons regular abbeys for three years and ready to take Holy Orders as one of our sisters."  I nodded slowly listening, memorizing everything that I was being told.  "There are those that said your rank as prioress was given too soon, that you are undeserving.  They will be watching you closely these next few weeks."  He paused and then continued in a low tone, "as will I."

           

            I suppressed a shiver with some difficulty.  "Yes, your Grace.  I will not let you or the order down."

            The wizened old man grinned at me, a very disturbing experience.  "I'm sure you won't, Sanguina.  Those sockets on your neck and back can only take you so far, the rest you're going to have to earn."  It was phrases like those that often made me wonder if I had rejoined the Caldari Navy Marines and not noticed it.  "Get her in, get her settled and she'll take vows at a special Mass tomorrow night.  You'd better hurry to the shuttle pad, she's going to be landing soon."

            With that said, I stood.  "Yes your Grace.  May He show his favor unto you."

            "And unto you, Sanguina."  With the bishop's dismissal I bowed and then left quickly, not bothering to talk to anyone in the outer office and exited to the outer arcade.  I debated hiking up my skirts and running to the shuttle pad, but only for a moment, it would be better to arrive late and composed than to be unseemly in running there.

            Needless to say, the walk to the shuttle pad was long and it was up, a good thousand feet in elevation above the Ordo  Administratio and almost on the other side of the mountain, but it was at least closer to my abbey.  If I had time to think about it, I probably would have felt relieved, but alas.  A roar of a ramjet prompted me to speed walk the last quarter mile and I arrived just as the shuttle was being pulled into rest by the ramp. 

            A brunette Amarrian girl bounced down the ramp, exuberant.  She was dressed in a knee length black pleated skirt and a white blouse and I made a mental note to keep her away from Father Medicite.  I smiled warmly to the girl when she reached the bottom of the ramp.

            "Hello, Callie," I said.  "I am Prioress Sanguina; your prioress, to be exact.  Welcome to the Fortress Cathedral of the Order of the Chalice."

The smiling, bouncing ball of energy bowed and then said, “Good day to you, prioress.”

“And to you, Callie,” I replied.  Marks for enthusiasm, that was to be sure; I sincerely hoped that she would not lose it in the coming years.  I smiled, “follow me and I’ll take you to your new home.”  

We walked at a much more leisurely pace to the abbey; her tiny legs could not have kept up with me even if I was not cyber enhanced.  Upon arrival she was panting, worn out.  The walk had taken the wind out of her.  Despite my efforts to the contrary, I chuckled softly.  She looked up at me, slightly perturbed at my response.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough, little one,” I said to her, doing my best to make my tone something other than condescending.  “The good news is that you won’t be leaving the abbey often.”  We walked up to the massive double doors, oak, with a carved relief of a sister of the order kneeling before the altar, head bowed, a dagger in her hands, which were clasped before her.  On the altar was a child, the blood dripping down highlighted in a bright red paint.  Above the doors were the words “Deus Vult.” My new charged gawked at the doors briefly before I opened them.

The entrance foyer to the abby was lavishly decorated, red silk tapestries: Jahi emerging from a pool of blood, pure with a halo behind her, the sinners drowning in blood from Book II of the Scriptures, Saint Junip’s valley of blood, one from the order’s more militant past of sisters dressed in baroque armor slaughtering the unfaithful.  That painting had given stylized wings to the sisters, making them the Avenging Angels of the Scripture.  The rest of the foyer was red and black marble, high gothic style arches.  Two sisters from my priory were polishing the floor, by hand; they both nodded their heads to me when we entered.  

The fastest way to the priory commons was through the cloister.  A quick gesture to Callie to follow and we set off through the foyer into the cloister.  The cloister was well tended, with an immaculate lawn, statutes and sculptures and benches for quiet contemplation.  Much like any other time there were a couple of dozen sisters in the cloister a few keeping the grounds.  Unlike some other orders and sects of the Sani Sabik, the order didn’t employ slaves in any great scale.  It was our belief that self sufficiency was paramount and the best way to teach that was through hard work.  Some of our newer sisters, especially ones from more affluent families in the system that came to us as initiates were a little shocked.  I myself had to renounce all my slaves, save one, when I arrived.  

We passed through the cloister, not interrupting anyone else’s mediation or reflection into the priory commons.  The door was not as fancy as the abbey’s, just a simple dagger relief, though again red paint highlighted the blade.  Inside were twelve beds laid out, six on each side.  Each of the sisters had their own cell for use during the day as well as storage of their habits and other items, but they all slept in the same room at night.  Sometimes, depending on my mood and more often than not, I would pull my bed out as well.  Personally, I was pleased with the setup, it reinforced the bond between the sisters of the priory.  As it was the middle of the day the commons was deserted, much as I expected.

I walked down the isle to the back of the room and pointed with my hand.  “This is your bed, Callie.” Then, I walked past the bed and opened a door, stepping into Callie’s cell.  Inside there was a desk and a chair, a small padded kneeling bench, a closet complete with a tiny chest of drawers inside.  There was, of course, a artificial light, but in addition there was a circular stained glass window.  The picture was that of a red drop of blood, bisected by a wrought iron dagger.  “This is your cell”  I smiled at the girl who had followed me in.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to lock you in, but you will be spending a lot of time in this room, just you and the Red God.”

The girl smiled, “Yes, prioress.”  The long walk might have worn her out physically, but her enthusiasm had not waned.  I returned the smile and went over to the closet opening it.  Sister Lucciele had done her usual quality work.  There were four habits in the closet for Callie, including her more formal full regalia.  

“Alright, Callie.  Time to get changed into something more suitable.”  I grabbed one of the habits and held it out to her, just a simple one for daily everyday use.  If she passed my examination she would wear her full regalia tomorrow night.  Callie took the habit and then did nothing for a moment, prompting me to ask, “well?”

“Are you not going to leave, prioress?” she asked.

The question took me by surprise, slightly.  “No.  There are several reason for me to stay.”  I didn’t bother to tell her what they were.  If she could not figure out that I was now responsible for her in every way, then I wasn’t going to tell her; not to mention that I wanted to make sure she dressed properly.  Callie slowly undressed.  Each step of the way I looked for any visible marks or infections.  I grew a little impatient.  “How can you expect to bare your soul before God if you cannot even bare your body before me?”

That prompted her to move faster.  When she was finished she stood shyly with her hands clasped in front of her.  I double checked her once more for any signs of diseases or other marks.  Satisfied that nothing was visibly wrong with her I motioned for her to get dressed.  She slipped on her black robe, buttoning it quickly.  Then she slipped on her scapular, still brilliantly white and fastened her black leather belt over it.  Since she was still an initiate, her habit included a coif, hiding her hair as well as a veil.

Once she was dressed I continued on, “You are my charge, Callie.  As such I am to be informed whenever you feel ill.  We will also be speaking extensively as you grow in your faith.  As far as your place in the priory, you may consider yourself the least among equals.”  The look on her face caused me to place my hand on the top of her head to comfort her.  “Use that feeling, let it and your faith drive you, Callie.”  I paused briefly to let my words sink in.  “Your life here will be very structured; I doubt that you realize how much.  We will get to that later.  First, you have to pass your examination and then take your vows.”

The examination of a new initiate was simple in concept, but long and arduous in practice.  There were around a few hundred articles of faith, The Cruor Albumum.  Before Callie could take her vows I would examine her on each point of faith.  Since Callie had been studying extensively for three years, however, this should not be too difficult.  But still, I had to do my due diligence.

I turned and exited the room, motioning for her to follow me, which she did.  We walked through the commons to my chambers.  I opened the door for her to enter first and then shut it behind me.  There was a small cushion on the floor for her to kneel on.

“Kneel,” I instructed and walked over to my chair to sit.  On my desk was a gold tipped pen, a piece of parchment, and a vial of blood ink.  The parchment was the checklist of each of the things that I had to test her on.  I unscrewed the end on the pen, dipped it in the vial to fill it and resealed the pen.  A quick check on a blank piece of paper confirmed to me that the pen would write.  I wrote in my name and then Callie’s on the parchment and read the vow.  “Do you swear before me and before God that the words of your mouth will reflect your soul?  That you will be truthful in all things, under pain of death?”

Callie had gotten much more composed, realizing that this was a very real event for her.  “I do so swear it, prioress.”

“Recite the litany of faith,” I said, moving to the first item on the list.

She swallowed and then spoke slowly:

“I believe in the Red God, Creator of all, Master of the Universe.

I believe that He created us perfect, but that through no fault of His, we have failed to be a perfect creation.

I believe that redemption is possible for anyone, but that only a few are able to prove themselves worthy and that each of us are responsible for our own salvation.

I believe that redemption requires a Blood Sacrifice.  That only through Blood Sacrifice can we prove ourselves worth God’s grace and that only He can purify us.

I believe in the Sacraments of Faith, the Forgiveness of Sins and Life Eternal.”

Check.  I made the mark and looked down the list.  “Explain man’s relation to God.”

“We were created by Him.  Humankind is special to God, imbued with a greater purpose than any of His other creations.  We were created so that we might come to know Him, to worship Him.  All of humankind is drawn to God.

Even though we are drawn to Him, many still flee and reject God.  The reasons are many, from selfishness to fear.  Each of us is flawed.  We must strive to overcome that flaw in order to be with God and gain entrance to Paradise.”

“And what is the purpose of this creation?”  The answer was good, complete, if a bit long winded. 

“The purpose of creation is to test us.  Only through hardship can we be stripped to our core being, to overcome the flaw and come to God.  God wants us to come to Him, and he makes a world where it is possible.  Suffering is a universal condition.”

“But that is not enough,” I said, prompting the next item on the Cruor Albumum.

“No, prioress.  It is only through God’s Grace that we prove ourself worthy of salvation.  We can prove this only by the Sacrament of Blood Sacrifice, where we offer Him Blood as he demands.  If our sacrifices please Him then we are granted his grace.”

“Describe the Sacrament.”

“There are two variations of the Blood Sacrifice.  The first, and least commonly used, is Sacrifice of Self.  This is generally preformed by those persons who believe, but do not have the strength of will to live out the life of a Sani Sabik on a daily basis.  The Sacrifice must lay themselves on the Altar and without restraint, allow themselves to be Sacrificed.

The second, and far more common, is simply called the Blood Sacrifice.  A weak an unwilling person is tied to the Altar and sacrificed to the Red God in the name of those who the Sacrament is preformed for.  The Blood is collected and a chalice filled and all present partake.”

“And who does the order say is the best, most pure sacrifice?” I asked.

“The Order of the Chalice believes that the most pure sacrifice to be children, prioress.  Their Blood is still young and not tainted by the physical world.  Their Blood is pure with innocence, wonder and full of life.  This Sacrifice pleases the Red God the most.”

My examination of Callie continued well into the night.  She had accomplished, learning wise, in three years-at a tender age no less-what Lucy could not do in seven, studying in the cloistered abbey.  Even still after all that time we were not finished; we still had a quarter of the way to go.  And this was just simple articles of faith, not interpretation of scripture or reasoning or anything very deep.  All of that would come later.  I bade her good night and, once she had left my chambers, flopped on my bed and fell asleep, still dressed in my habit.

CLANG!  The ringing of the bells woke me from my sleep.  No matter how many years I had spent in the Marines, I still hated waking up this early.  I groaned and rolled to look at the clock.  Another old habit that I had; I already knew the time: 0600.  I sighed loudly and sat up, attempting to untangle my habit from around me.  My senses finally caught up with me and I simply started to undress.

Once I was declothed, I ran over to the shower, turned the water on very hot and stepped in.  The water ran over me while I stood still, not moving, still half asleep.  My mind went back to my own examination, which was more of a theology lesson, to be honest.  I had been inducted into another part of the cult, a different order.  The bishop had shown me the way, where I was wrong and how to serve the Red God properly.

For others, like Callie, studies took months or years.  Since I was a capsuleer, however, implanted with cyber implants that increased my memory capacity, perception, intelligence and will power, it took me mere weeks.  That also helped explain my meteoric rise from sister to prioress.  Although, to be sure the Priory of Daggers was mostly the younger initiates and sisters.  If I could command a battleship, I had damn well better to be able to watch over twelve teenage girls.  Although, sometimes I would jokingly jest with the abbess that command of a battleship was easier.  Sometimes, she would agree with me.

Once I was clean and awake, the latter being much more important, I shut off the water, wrapped a towel around my hair, and made my way over the window.  Like all the other sisters in the order, my chambers had a small kneeling bench.  Prayers were a major part of life in the order; they were a good reminder that we existed to worship.  I knelt down; the morning sun shown through the window, casting me in a red light and bowed my head, clasped my hands together and prayed.

“Red God of all.  Maker of the universe.  Lord of my life.  I beseech you for your guidance this day.  I pray for you to give me the strength to serve you as you will.  Next to you, we are nothing; it is only with you that we can accomplish all that we do.  Let my words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, oh God.  Let my actions this day glorify you.”

The order had also developed some more formulaic prayers to use, but I usually eschewed those and let the spirit of God guide me.  I felt closer to Him when I did that.  Satisfied that I had completed my morning duties, I stood and started to get dressed, in just a simple habit-I would change into my full regalia later.  I had just completed when there came a knock on the door.

“Enter,” I called out and Callie opened the door.

“Prioress,” she said and bowed, reporting to me as she had been ordered to last night.

“Initiate Callie.  Shall we finish the examination?”  I sat down in my chair, pulled out the Cruor Albumum from the drawer.  The pen I had drained and cleaned before I fell asleep.  Filling it took only a few moments before we were ready to go again.  “What are the Sacraments of Faith?  In detail, initiate.”

Callie took just a few moments to collect herself before answering. “The first and most basic Sacrament is the Blood Sacrifice or Offering of Blood.  The latter is far more common.  The Vitama in a sacrifice is brought forth, clad in a white silk robe.  They are then tied to the Altar, with the robe open and draped, acting as a altar cloth.  The priest then makes cuts, or officiates while another makes the cuts, on each of the wrists and then on the inside of each of the thighs.  There are also small cuts made on the neck, both sides on the arteries.  The Vitama is allowed to bleed out until they are dead.  Because of the way that the altar is designed, the blood will flow down the altar cloth and be collected.  The Priest will then fill the Chalice and all present will imbibe a sip of the Blood.  The remaining Blood will then be burned. 

The Offering of Blood is much the same.  The Vitama is brought forth, again clad in white silk.  The Priest then cuts, or officiates the cutting of, the Vitama’s wrist.  The Blood is then dripped into the Chalice, which is placed on the Altar.  At which point Infernatium is poured into the Chalice and it is set alight.  Although not part of the Sacrament itself, the Vitama is removed from the temple, or chapel and then bandaged.  The point of the Blood Offering is to not kill the Vitama.

The second is Initiation to the Faith.  Those new to the Sani Sabik religion are anointed with Blood.  There can be either a full Sacrifice or just and Offering of Blood to obtain the Blood to anoint with.  In either case, before the Blood is imbibed or burned, a portion will put in a vial, blessed and then be given to the new faithful.  This of course is the symbol of our faith.”  

My thoughts briefly went to the girl that I had come to love, who had given me that vial before I even knew what it meant, before I forced myself back to paying attention.

“The third is the Confession of Sins.  The Penitent will seek out a Confessor, or other person of sufficient rank.  The Confessor will hear the Penitent’s sins and provide absolution.  Following that, the Penitent will go to the Penitent’s Alcove in the chapel or temple and offer their Blood to the Flame of Absolution.”

And so it went on and on.  Callie recited more Sacraments of Faith, more articles.  Thankfully, there was no liturgy on the Cruor Albumum, else we would have been at it for weeks.  As it stood, combined it was over thirteen hours of examination.  I made the final check, signed off on it and leaned back in my chair.

“You can stand,” I said smiling at my charge.  “We’re all finished and you passed, which you already knew.”

Callie smiled back and stood a bit shaky.  So many hours kneeling had taken it’s toll; I motioned for her to sit on the bed, which she did.  “So, what now, prioress?”

“Now,” I said, trying not to sound too ominous.  “Now the hard part begins.  Tonight you take Holy Orders and then tomorrow you start your life here as a sister in the order.  You will have duties and routines as well as lessons and Mass.  All of which will be covered tomorrow.  Go see Sister Lucciele and she will give your garments for tonight.  After that, you have your ritual ablutions before you take your vows.  Which I will supervise.  For now though, it’s lunch time-actually well past lunch time, but I’m starving.  Off you go.”  I waved her out and she left.  A few minutes later, I too, left.