Last Ship to Darius

Chapter Ten

"So you guys been taken a vacation while I was gone" asked the Lord General of Darious in a light voice.

He was bombarded with napkins, paper cups and a few pieces of left over foodstuffs.

"Alright, alright. Can't a guy kid around a little. Sheesh. Talk about sensitive."

"Yeah well" grumbled the 12^th heir to the throne, and the sentiment was echoed by the soon to be wife of the Lord General of Darius.  Nusan gave him a sour look and then patted a seat next to her which he ignored.

The Queen sat quietly thorughout all this, in almost fearful contemplation. Clearly she was on her best behavior. She had crossed the giant and he'd come home to roost anyway. There was going to be a reckoning. She just didn't know when or in what form it would take.

"Well, I have been busy…" and he feigned a duck and cover move as he finished, "…and have a few bits of good news. The Queen's Commando program is doing well in the desert and jungles, that's four camps, Beslen.  We have nearly four hundred very nasty soldiers. Part of their study is the rapid training of indigenous troops."

"That would be the Queen's guard?" sniffed the Queen.

The Lord General put his finger to his nose. "Right on the button, oh mighty one. In one guess, no less. So if the Greenies spend another week or two contemplating their navels, we can have several thousand guerrilla warfare experts and several hundred waves of cannon fodder ready to throw at them. Not bad for a planet armed with vibrators and other sex toys a few days ago." Waving aside the Queen's agitation, he continued.

"And we tried something that very well might have paid off. In my humble opinion, it was not a stupid suggestion that our genes have been played with.  For that matter, the pool might have been maniuplated as well.  The reason I say this is that our people have switched from fops to soldiers in very short order.  Unnaturally so.

The Greenies. Maybe stupid is brilliant in Greenieland. I had a remote controlled drone with a huge picture of the droid plastered on it flown in at treetop. They didn't fire on it.  The thing sat down on the landing area, and I think they liked to shit. They were all over it and our observers braved a closer look to see that after a quick enty,  the fellow was "reactivated" and hustled aboard the Sphereship immediately.  He was walking under his own power, thank you very much. We moved some spysats over and sure enough we got a picture of the number two Sphereship as it swung around and de-orbited to the site. Two Sphereships at the site now and from the rapidity of response, and taking into account their speed in atmosphere, we think we know where their mother ship is hiding. Anyone wanna guess?"

"North pole" said Stacy without hesitation, and the General's jaw dropped.

"No way you figured that out on your own" he exclaimed after a few seconds of recovery.

"Yep. With my worthless little noodle. Wanna' know how I figured it out? Easy really. The mother ship can't be in orbit. We have visual tracking systems worldwide. We are pretty sure their visible stealth shielding is all screwed up by our Sun. So that leaves one of our two moons or the other four planets in system. Planets are too far unless they unleash a stardrive, and that leaves little time for acceleration and deaccelleration. Too many Gs. Or at least in our physics. Ignore that. Let's try the moons. Once again we are all over that like…well I don’t have an example but we are on it big time. With a remote observatory, we can track anything leaving on the Sun side, and the dark side is visible directly from the geo-synch sats providing comm to the dark side research center."

"I get it" says Belson. "That leaves planetside and there are damned few places an alien ship is going to be able to park without someone planetside catching a glimpse of them."

"Right" agreed Stacy. "So I had a fifty fifty chance. North or South. I just picked. Luck of the Royals I guess."

"Well I am impressed. Now all we have to do is watch the North pole and we'll know where the real battle will take place" offered Nusan.

"Better yet," mused the Queen. "I can decimate the hell of anything not sitting over an artifact site. And I think I just might."

"Hold on Queenie" said the Lord General. "Let's not go off half cocked. Besides I think its time you and I come to some agreements."

"Here it comes" thought Stacy almost at the same time Belson muttered it out loud. Everyone ignored him in the silence.

"First, I AM the military chain of command. What I say goes and if I say it doesn't go, well it doesn't. You want to nuke a ship on the North pole, you ask if I want to do it. I don’t want to, we don't do it. Clear?"

Obviously the Queen was not happy with this…twenty years of monarchy under her belt had meant she had gotten used to having everything her way. She sat like a stone for what seemed ages. Then quietly she answered, "Go on".

The Lord General 's face went through some contortions.  Anger, worry, acceptance, then remarkably, patience.  He seemed to struggle with that answer and than must have decided he didn't dare force a more committed answer, at least not yet.

"Second, I'm not sitting here like a dumb shit and feeding the press a bunch of concocted lies about winning the war. I'm going to be moving around in the field…"

Now he got an unexpected ration of grief from everyone in the room. It took a full five minutes before they all shut up before his raised hands.

"Okay, okay. I understand your concerns. One. I will not, I repeat, not do anything stupid or the least bit risky. I didn't last this long being a stupid hero, only a smart soldier. Think about it. I attacked the droid only because I could and did get away with it. I had a group of pretty good soldiers drawing fire for me in the trench…" and he exchanged a look of thanks with his favorite Princess. "…and I had all the military elements working for me. Not to mention a little luck. So I promise to act like an old General, not an old stupid fart. Second. We need a figurehead here at home. Someone who is just as fearsome as self, but expendable in terms of dealing with the troops in the media and the stray independent politician who might ask embrassing questions. I have the perfect asshole in mind and I think Belson has met the guy."

"You have got to be kidding. Who is this guy really?"

"He has been my aide, my savior, and my chief planner for over two centuries. His name is Colonel Parker V Stewart and he is descended from Terran Civil War soldiers. He is fearsome, smooth, and ugly like all good soldiers, no offense pretty boy. He also has the distinction of winning the only military actions in the recent history of planet Darius, as the Queen well knows. Not all things are public and there have been some nasty uprisings amongst disgruntled settler families over the few years that me and my team were fortunate to arrive here. And despite the promise of free evac up the line, all of us have agreed to stay on here. Except of course, our dear Colonel, who says he is tired of all these white people."

"You see he is something that does not exist on Darius. A black skinned man. Not that I think anyone here has any prejudice, that crap died out long ago. But our Colonel Stewart just doesn't feel…well can’t feel at home. Fortunately he is pragmatic about this. He knows why the Queen closed the door to the trade route, it makes perfectly good sense. But he has told me frankly, that he doesn't trust the Queen to let him go. So, we need a royal statement which will calm the erstwhile Colonel down before he'll agree to come out of the jungle and give us the help we need."

They all looked the pensive Queen. Uncharacteristically, she chewed her lip. After a few minutes, she asked quietly, "big ugly brute isn't he?"

"No actually I lied, he is very handsome. Woman chase him all the time. Right, Belson?"

"Ahh, yes Sir. If this is the same ass…uhh Colonel that was my Sergeant, then he was continually fighting them off. Lots of talk about…"

"Belay that, son. Anyway your highness, I don’t see what that has to do with it."

She sat quiet a bit longer. Then she stood and as she was the Queen, everyone was standing before very long at all.

"You have no doubt read or seen Shakespeare. 'My Kingdom for a horse.' In the same spirit I might say, 'My planet for a Colonel' That is just about as dramatic as the great bard's line, but so much more deadly and real to me."

"Let me work on your Colonel, Lord General. If I can't persuade one man to stay and fight for my planet, maybe I can convince another to fight for the right to be my King. Worse things have been done for a monarch's people, it is the least that I be prepared to give." With that quiet statement she brushed by the Lord General and vanished through her ante-chamber door, leaving her small cabinet and the Lord General in total shock.

Far away in that jungle so loosely and easily talked about in the presence of the Queen, Colonel Stewart, formerly Seargeant of the Queen's guard, was looking over a crude map.  It was hastily drawn as well as crude, the Colonel observed, but like many things in combat, it was military effectiveness that counted, not the spit and polish.

"The two ships are now hovering, and the troops spread out on the ground are moving around like insects stirred up out of their nest.  I don't think they like the present the General gave them and are trying to find the delivery boy."

"No chance of that is there, Lieutenant?"

"No Sir.  Caprice and Jones got out of there and into a flitter right away."

The Colonel turned to another young soldier, "...and the archeologist's site?"

The young looked down at the ground and replied quietly, "Just a crater sir.  It was a pretty clean blast as such things go.  However, the plume went vertical into the planet's exo-sphere, where the winds are.  It looks like we'll have a nasty radiation belt for about 60 years or so.  It may effect the sat system after awhile.  At least I've heard of that theory.  We'll only know in a few months when the debris up there is fully distributed.  The EMP of the thing scrambled most of the radio equipment and the essentially rendered useful the sat high above.  If there any survivors out there, they are possibly on foot."

'That's okay.  We'll send some ships out with infrared.  The only problem is we need to stay at treetops or we'll be chancing the Greenies will get a lock on us. I'll make that request of the General, assuming he still has his head and is listening to our special channel.  Captain, what's the disposition of the rest of the troops."

"Well, as you ordered, Sir, the remainder are spread out in their teamsat  minimum safe distance apart.  I don't think the Greenies have a clue they are out there, though. The precaution may have been excessive.  I just didn't want to take any chances..."

"No problem, Captain.  You'll find that I only get pissed off at well understood screwups, not things I don't disagree with or have not ordered.  That's the way of a boot polisher and a sop.  I can spit and shine like the best, but I am NOT a sop. Let's focus our attention on the campaign.  "

He looked over the maps again.

"My last orders from the General were a very concise signal.  'dee-dee'. It comes from an old war term, another language I believe.  It means "pick up your gear in haste and get the hell out of Dodge -- Dodge being a somewhat civilized town in Terra's old 'wild west'.  My take on that is we are to stay the hell away from civilization. I think I understand that.  It's like your first reaction, Captain.  Our little Corps is far to small to expend even one soldier without first applying an abundance of caution.  Since civilization will be target zones.  We are of course targets -- targets of  the Queen should she grow angry which she has a habit of doing on a whim, or the Greenies should they come hunting.  In other words, we avoid both like the plague."

They all nodded at the sentiment and the rationale the Colonel was honoring them with.  Usually command officers were not so forthcoming.  They also knew it meant that he was going to be asking a lot of them -- that was usually one of the good reasons a command officer had for sharing his heart and thoughts.  Sort of a preemptive strike on guilt.

"The good news is that it means we are also activated.  With no orders, you all know that means we bring guerilla warfare to the enemy, harass, and otherwise stymy them.  Possibly we will make them use up valuable resources.  Then we escape and evade, repeating the cycle all over again.  Since the General has heated them up a little, we'll need to wait before we start.  "

He paused to take a breath and to gauge their willingness to hear what he had to say next. 

"So I am looking for those kinds of ideas. Harrassement with low risk, and then we can also add the more dangerous ideas once we have a stable of alternatives that have a low chance of getting someone killed.  And has we have at least 72 hours, I'll let you get back to your units.  Davidson, I want you to make contact with the other teams.  There are 70 good men out there waiting to hear what's going on.  Since we still have the sats, squirt them the info and make sure the sats know to isolate the signal via laser and only after receiving a downlink request.  No broadcasts. We don't want to waste the stealth-sat technology just yet."

"Yes sir.  Do you want a condense of this briefing and any tactical we have?"

"Yeah, and include the political sitrep as well.  I don't want anyone assuming the Sentry ships are friendlies just yet.  I'd prefer we get the all clear from the General first.  The Queen, etc. etc."

"Aye, Aye Sir." replied the aide and the team broke up.

The Colonel took a quick peek at his link and noted that there weren't any messages waiting for him and cursed to himself.  "Come on Frosty, we haven't a lot of time, the way I see it."

He paced around the HQ location, a tree lined edge cut into the side of a hillock about three minimum safe distances from the hilltop where everything had started.  This was an old river site that used to flood every so often.  The river had undercut the hillside eons ago and left a nice little hidey hole.  They had reinforced it and applied well reinforced permarock to createw a wall that now kept the three foot river out.  The wall was about 20 feet high, waterproofed in and out, and an E.M. shield could be turned on so that it kept the water from interfacing with their construction.  A camo drop was also available for when the E.M. was deemed too emissive for stealth purposes. The camo was solid enough to have a rocky riverside scene painted on it, and from use, had acquired real living slow growign water moss that made it fit quite well into the scenery.  Without electronics, they were pretty much invisible and a sensor probe would get a readback of dirt and hard rock, as well as a small amount of iron content like any hillside in the region.  The reinforcement was carbon fiber so it was not detectable save as a general mineral deposit return.  Unless you went in with a fine precision mapper would you see that the "minerals" were as regular as wall reinforcements.  If someone got that close, the Colonel would blow their asses to God and let him sort out the how and why later.

Inside the hillside, with more carbon fiber walling to confuse even a deep probe, were some artillery stores, a couple of mobile guns, four Embracer Tank units that rolled at 200 klicks on smooth road or half that on typical Darian terrain.  There were also enough crewed weapons to build an army of ten thousand.  There were several dozen of caches like this all over this planet, each of the moons, and on several other of the planets in the system.

There were also two full space destroyers hidden on low grav moons in the system, as well as one capital ship disguised in false moon around Callisto, the moon about Necessis, the fifth planet in system.  Most of its crew was in deep sleep, and they were from the original deep sleep teams that the General and he had been "recruited" from.  The plan had been to awaken them every five years, do some training and them put them down again.  They had only had two chances to do that before today, so relatively speaking, the plan had worked, despite its rather short total sleep time.  They had been hoping they wouldn't be needed for man more centuries.

It wasn't clear they'd need the ships just yet, however, this was one reason that the Colonel had a false tooth with cynide hidden inside.  Only three men knew about these precautions, and once the Queen and her advisors from main system had set everything up, she had been hypnotically wiped.  Only when her planet was in dire need from space invasion would the memory trigger open up.  The Colonel doubted the trigger had fired yet.  The threat, while being extraterrestrial, was not yet "an invasion from space".

The Queen did appear to have her wits about her, in any case.  She had closed the gate.  That took some guts.  As far as she knew, it would be centuries before the people arrived with the knowlege of how to setup the coordinates to re-establish their connection on the trade route.  Each of the two hidden destroyers had the proper knowlege on board, but the Queen didn't know that. 

The idea was that until the military established the danger was passed, and that meant that at least one destroyer had escaped destruction, then the trade route remained closed until the Fleet could arrive.  Of course, there were some little secrets to getting out here faster, but that was also not a fact beingt bandied about.  At worst they were several decades out from rescue, and in best case, through rapid hopping technology, perhaps two years for a Destroyer sized rescue efforts.  Main line ships, however, were still many years away.

Belson emerged from the last tutorial pretty well wrung out.  The full immersion teaching unit first implanted knowlege at very high speed.  But what it didn't implant was gut reactions, reflexes, resolve, or confidence -- the factors only experience and real combat imparted.  But the knowlege did lend some aspects of confidence and was based on centuries of "modern" warfare that included plenty about space fighting. By the time Darius had been established along the trade route, a lot of internal space battles with big million kiloton ships had taken place.  A lot of  little picket ship actions had taken place as well.  All of that, including exruciating details, were "on board" in his head.

So too were ground battles and aero-campaigns.  At the conclusion, he would be tested for logic pathways and strategic reasoning, as well as ethics.  If he passed, he'd be a brevit Major, capable of independent command of field units.  In a few years he'd be tested again and if enough of the knowlege had "sunk in", he'd be singled out for a jump to "Tactical General".  He would be the youngest General on Darius, but would have most of the skills and knowlege necessary to fight some pretty nasty campaigns.  He was joined in his studies by twenty three of his peers.  Darius had no choice but to implement the crash military program.  It hadn't produce the best military over the centuries, but they would be surprisingly capable.  If they survived and learned well enough, there would be plenty of folks with true knowlege and experience to assume their roles by the time age and health demanded their retirement.

For now, however, Brevits like Belson were happy to have people like Frosty Formsley around to guide them.  And the Colonel.  It wasn't hard to think of his former Sergeant as a Colonel.  The man had made a great Sergeant but had always seemed more than that.  Not that there was anything wrong with a Sergeant, but the man had been infused with skills an aura of leadership that seemed more appropriate for someone used to dealing with the bigger picture.  And it wasn't that he seemed out of place,  It wa more like he had been resting, even where others at his level were tasked harshly with keeping pace.  He grinned at the thought.  A very powerful animal at rest, one with big teeth yawning, ready to devour the incautious idiot that woke him.

In fact, Two Tall had remarked that his old Sergeant was a "Sergeant's Sergeant".   This didn't sink in at the time, since the man had been the most senior Sergeant.  Too Tall had also said something about "Master Gunny" which eluded him until his F.I. training.  Master Gunnery Sergeant was the top dog in an old Terran military elite, the U.S. Marine Corps from which the current Darius Royal Marines had been styled.  Many of those units like that trained their troops as recruits and then worked with them as units until they were well trained enough to go to battle, then went on a six month battle deployment with them.  Finally they left the troops to start again with a "fresh batch".  Too Tall had later told him that the Colonel and General both had come from the ranks of outfits like the Marines, and through deep sleep and age reduction techniques, had been through about six decades serving in various roles, enlisted through officers.  The General had been age reduced by nearly a century, his "service age" at about 150 years old, while his biological age was in his fifties.

And now, he, Belson, was on the opposite kind of scale, at age 22, educated with knowlege that made him a man of 45 years.  And his knowledge was like a man who had seved in units similar to the Marines.   His particular knowlege base was spread across ground fighters, aero fighters, planetary patrol fighters and deep space campaigners.  He could easily sit down on a battle station on the bridge of a Ceres class light Destroyer or behind the firing controls of an Embracer class high speed land tank.  God he really liked those.   They were capable of delivering a sabot charge, and EMP weapon, or a tactical nuke.  Somehow, he knew that he'd feel just as comfortable operating any of those weapons system.s

At the same time, he could pilot any of the flying craft on Darius, as well as many others that were not in their current arsenal.  It was all there.  Again, except for the actual confidence that comes with doing. He had done a high speed figther simulation test after his first combat F.I. session and flown a pretty hairy "wild weasel" mission in a Mach 3 fighter.  He'd been really at ease even through the worst parts.  He felt that if they had some of these fighters, he could climb into the cockpit and scramble to meet the enemy at altitude.

But they didn't need that particular skill set right now. What they needed was leadership and those skills -- some of them anyway, had also been implanted. He could deal with people in ways he had never even dreampt of before meeting the Queen personally.  Even dealing with the Royalty was his to use as he saw fit.  Even the troublesome Stacey Op seemed to suddenly be a minor problem for him to solve.  He could feel some Frosty in that confidence, and that brought both pride and additional calmness.  He had seen how effectively the real world equivalent of his virtual mentor handled the young woman.  Belson was now well armed in that respect.

The problem was, that most of the Queen's former military advisors had some of this same training.  And a lot of them did not impress him in the least.  He comforted himself with the thought that for the Queens former officer, they had chosen their course material, not Frosty Formsley.  They also did not have any of Frosty's personally charged content -- stuff from his own experience and many decades of experience that he had then built F.I. courses with.  Too Tall called it the Real Deal.

The new batch of officers, while being brevits, were also known as Duos, after Formsley.  Belson suspected that Duo himself had been a recipient of similar training in his young age -- since there appeared to be lots of "personal" experience from centuries ago.  He didn't believe Duo was three, or maybe even five hundred years old even with age reduction technology.

In any case, he was glad to be finishing up soon, and getting a chance to get out there and acquire some real experience on his own.  Not to mention working with the General himself.

The 12^th in line for the throne was puzzling over her own problems.  The Queen, who had usually ignored her family and person with total indifference, had suddenly wanted her around almost constantly. Granted the two had somehow forged a working relationship that bordered on a sibling rivalry.  And granted that there was a huge age difference.  But the facts were that once the Queen had tossed out her playmates and instead began fostering thinkers and doers, she had no one to talk to. And amazingly, to everyone's surprise, most of which was Stacy's,  the Queen had an enormous intellect.  She starved for people to bounce ideas off of and needed constant intellectual stimulation. 

Stacey Op now understood, at least in a small way, how the Queen's sexual diversions had been necessary, no matter how repugnant.  Having tossed that away under the expediency of protecting her people and her planet, she was now in demand of other interests to keep the keen intelligence occupied.  The demand was for mindful things to do that either fit in the role she was required to play as planetary protector, or serve as diversions suitable for someone with such awesome responsibility.

Susan was feeding the Queen's need for conversation.  She and another of Stacey's were also feeding the need for gameship in the form of strategy games and the like.  Stacy op, the 12^th in line was now consumed in the role of Sister and confidant.  Pretty scary really.

The other problem was that she really missed the hell out of the Belson guy. He had somehow, without warning and perhaps without even trying, reached in, grabbed one of her tiniest heart-strings, and captured it. 

While she didn't moon over his absence and was not going through the many crisises that she had read about for young lovers -- for instance her eating habits were as voracious as ever -- there were few hours that a tiny tug wouldn't pull her mind to him. 

Of course sitting right there in her thoughts was another horrid disturbance.  They were of her lost uncle and now world military leader, Duo Formsley.  The severed mentor-niece relationship had been hynotically reinforced now broken.  Regardless, it still had residual effects in her heart and mind.  She loved him like a father and hoped ever so much that Belson would grow to be brave and considerate like him so she could havea  piece of both men.

It was a confusing thing, but she allowed it was pretty normal for a young girl.  She acknowleged this fact to herself.  She was far from stupid.  She was only a woman in only a fewresponsibilities even yet. 

The issue with her youth were the many emotions waiting to be released in her.  At times they crowded her thinking, fully overwhelming her own great intellect. 

Fortunately, a part of the training she had received from Frosty was the discipline to "wait til the time is right". She knew that time would come, and that somehow, some way, it would be Belson who would be the trigger.  "Better later than never," she told herself.

And the Queen seemed to understand much of this. She sent her out with Nusan to do some shopping with some speciific places to go with the young girl's "condition" in mind.  They came back with some rather interesting clothes.  Stacy was a little small breasted for anything really daring on the top side, but the rest of her figure was nice in the extreme, and while they didn't come back with any of the pseudo leather built tight fitting clothes, they had returned with some very nice stretch cut garments that were both free moving, comfortable and eye popping.  She knew cuz she had stoically noticed the change in those around her of the male persuassion.  So now she was dressing to attract triggers, and her favorite trigger man was absent from the hunt.  Damn him!

"Crap" she said out loud at her thinking, and the ever-present Nusan looked up and smiled as if reading her mind.  And then, reinforcing that worry, Nusan answered, "Oh don't worry.  I am smiling because I remember myself or my sisters popping off like that for no obvious reason.  It has to do with the age and the hormones.  I was just understanding, milady.  Not reading your mind."

Stacey grinned back at her and wanted to give her a hug.  But then it occurred to her, "if you weren't reading my mind, they how did you know I was thinking you must have been reading my mind?"  The circular logic threatened to embroil her in further confusion, so she quickly aborted that line of thought.

"I was ...welll...thinking about Belson.  Again."

When Nusan displayed another of those knowing smiles, Stacey Op flushed.  "Not like that.  But I just wondered how he is doing. I mean we haven't heard anything from him in so long.  What's up with him that he hasn't even checked in with us."

"On the contrary, milady.  He has checked.  And quite regularly.  The F.I. training does not leave room for social visits, especially those with emotional entanglements..." and Nusan paused as Stacey bridled at being merely "an emotional entangelement".  "...or should I say a major emotional disturbance" and the older woman's eyes went up and down Stacey as though capturing her entire appearance in an appreciative glance like some vid-star's stereotypical assessment.

They both laughed then and Stacey got up and then did give Nusan a hug.  Nusan, getting permission with a look, carefully smoothed a couple of wrinkles out of the material stretching across her small but well pronounced breasts.

"The nice thing about this cut and the material is that you can wear it for another year or two and you'll only grow to look better.  Especially  as you go from just starting to fill  out to down right full bodied.  The only problem I see is that your family's genetics will have every man looking at your nipples like entertainment establishments.  Many married women are going to get really angry with you if you wear this outfit in public much.

Again Stacy blushed.  It was the fashion to dress "naked with clothes on", one of the excesses from the Queen's earlier era, she suspected.  But it was one aspect that had not changed much from before.  And she liked the effect it had on the men about her.  Sshe also realized that Nusan was telling her something just as important.  She lived among women and men, and many of the women could be insanely jealous if provoked.  The body styles on Darius were not prone to anything approaching chubby.  The practice and resources that fed that diet on the planet were if anything, carbohydrate starved.  They had to often take supplements to add needed fat to their diets.  The result was a trim society that on other planets might call skinny.  Pregnant woman were typically a little heavier as their bodies soaked up and demanded the necessary nutrients, and then retained a larger body style following their pregnancy.  But even then they were not much more than skinny.

In contrast to many other civilizations along the Trade Routes, males and females on the slightly less gravity of Darius tended to make for leaner, muscler frames.   Early exercise also contributed to this stature.  However, human biology, being essentialy the same for millions of years, continued to make the woman's body with more curves and in her particular genetic pool, armed with firm nipples on pronounced dimpling of the areola.  The result was that the material she was wearing might as well as be transparent.  The darkness of the area around her nipple did not show of course, but the entire areas "surface features" so-to-speak, clearly made their presence known.  To say she was definitely a nubile female was the understatement of the century.  The last year she had been growing as young women her age often did.  Lately, she was growing faster.  At the current rate, she would be atypically large for the Darius female, even the post-delivery mommas.

And since such body style was rare, she could only assume, especially from her study of things in past human history, that most males would welcome that rarity rather than shun it.  Noticing the effect that Nusan had upon Frosty Formsley, Stacy was sure this was also a heditary male thing as well.

The other difference from a year ago, was her own acceptance of her rapid changes into womanhood.  A year ago, she would have placed her arms across her breasts and gone somewhere to hide.  Now she enjoyed the scrutiny and felt only a little lacivious at what some jealous women might deem as a brash and wanton display.  "Screw 'em" she thought.  I'll be sixty soon and no one will give a shit.  For now I am young and beautiful and if those who aren't can't deal with that, then screw 'em."

Having made that adjustment to her emotions, she gave Nusan another hug, and went off to do some more shopping.  She'd be damned if she was going to sit in the Palace and dress like a nun. The hell with that.  But as she was getting ready to leave, she was hit with such a hot flash then a nice little side pain.  She she went immediately into a cold shower.  It took her nearly thirty minutes to feel comfortable again and she decided to forgo her trip. She had a suspicion, and the timing was right, that she would have other things to consume her time for the next week. Damn and double damn.

The Lord General was watching the clock carefully.  He had a luncheon date with the professor and was determined not to miss this one. Despite the wartime footing, there had to be time to de-stress or one would explode into stress induced gabbering.  And what better way than to combine the necessary meal break with a pretty woman, a single glass of good wine, and a good steak.  All the classics of a good soldiers meal at home.  And something his people in the field were dying for, he reminded himself, remembering that it was, in a way, a duty to enjoy his time here before going out into the field.

And of course, it was simply good mental health.  He wasn't the kind of officer that ate every night in Royal splendor despite being housed in the Royal Palace.  Nor did he encourage that behavior.  He usually ate in the mess with the troops like he insisted all his officers do regularly.  Only on occasions did they escape the duty, and only by application with their superiors. Usually it was not a big deal or formal request, just something like, "A few of us are out to visit Reboars tonight, Captain."  A nod and off they went, but it was up to the Captain to see that it wasn't too regular or that it wasn't "I'm dining with the Princess suich and such tonight."

On the other hand, he had encouraged the Royal woman, all 32 of them, to get theirselves out of the Palace to local establishments to cheer on the troops, or into the mess.  Stacy Op for example was a regular at the mess until just recently.  She loved to sit at different tables and solicit stories from the younger rank and file. Unfortunately, the last few weeks had been a little grizzly for most as they had been rotated in from the field while fresh inexperienced bucks had rotated out to get their short time in as near to combat conditions that anyone of them had experienced.  Granted there was no actual fighting going on, only the Colonel's seasoned guerilla fighters were actually engaging the enemy, and that only for short and deadly encounters.  A few of the guys had been drafted to accompany a combat team after being separated from their units, however, and the word was getting out about the "scary guys we saw in the woods or hiding in holes up by the ruins."  Occasionally his security guys would grab one of those and read them the riot act, but Duo had quickly told them to loosen up a little. They needed the mystique to generate interest and get new recurits, as well as very soon, provide positive moral when they all found out they were to be trained by the "ghosts".

Tonight, he'd be in the mess when the latest F.I. teams filtered into the mess quietly and distributed themselves in the crowd of officers and enlisted.  He knew from experience that the sound level of the subdued mess would be much higher and that if Stacey Op deined to attend, she might be lucky and get an earful from one of the newly acquired super soldiers.  He also knew from experience, that there would be at least one exchange of blows as some wanna be took a jealous shot at one of the F.I. types. 

Maturity and new found knowlege from the F.I. training would keep the jerk from being killed, but not before some minor blood was spilled.  Duo also knew that the young former peacock Belson would be among those picked to be the brunt of some cruel joke, and just as well knew the young man would "create some silence" as it had been known in his day.  Rather than tell someone to shut up and walk through the tostesterone ritual leading to fisticuffs, a F.I. trained soldier just created the silence with quick, decisive action. 

In the meantime, and before the excitment and motivation began to spill over in his troops, Duo was going to enjoy a meal with Nusan, equally brilliant, beautiful, and mature.  Nice combination, that.

Too Tall, recently returned from the Jungle with a message for the General, had turned away from that officer's quarters.  Having not been ordered back immediately,  he decided he would, at least for awhile, rejoin the Palace Guard.  He went to the barracks, grabbed the informal uniform and then decided to join the lads in the mess later for dinner.  For now, he wanted to visit up with some friends.  Perhaps he'd also check in on Belson, that young pup, and see how the F.I. had treated him.  It was maybe time to let the young man in on a little of the history of some of his friends too -- at least as much as the General had hinted would be okay by way of Security.  It was clear that if the lad had the right stuff, Frosty wanted the young included in with the lads that did the real work.  The first step to the recruitment was building trust.  And that meant he would have to come across with at least a little of the real story.  Belson'd learn the rest in short time anyway.

Maybe tonight, he'd also make some memories to keep him company while strolling around in the jungle or desert with the teams.

Belson finished tieing up the jump boots, the traditional footwear of the new outfit he had been assigned to for field training.  The footwear meant he could be loaded on a carryall and dropped into an area denied by the enemy while flying at treetop level, or tromp around in the woods oblivous to pointy booby traps due to the steel shank in the soles.  They also were kept non polished if not table top clean while "in house".  Having a shine was bad combat practice, and having a speck of dirt was poor form for being at home.  The result was a utility finish of flat black that was dark as the sky and clean enough to eat off.  This was easy for him, the boots were brand new.  He also knew how to keep them looking that way, and Too Tall's visit had helped him discover that even with boots as old as he expected TT's were, they looked the same as his.  Perhaps not quite as stiff and his did not have the soft spots that showed in subtle wrinkles in the material at spots where the foot and ankle movement created bends.  Only another foot soldier would have noticed, he realized.

The other difference was that while the laces wrapped through the quick catch eyes on his boots were nice and new looking, TTs had that slightly worn look.  He had asked TT about that and that had led to a few lessons on how to dress properly for an old hand.  You threw your laces in the washing machine for one cycle.  This tore them up a little.  You then applied a thin coat of leather treatment to soften them back up and tone down the frassles that washing applied to leather and of course to keep them from becoming brittle and breaking under stress.  Best bet was to con the quartermaster out of two sets, because in the field you wanted a new pair to hide in your gear anyway.  And no one gave a shit about new laces in the field.  Besides trade goods were made out of the oddest things in the field.  TT had said he always took back a few extra socks and underwear -- foot soldiers  had served in an Army or Corps that could keep such goods in full supply.

Belson's F.I. training had left him with a story that he felt he had lived.  A bomber crew back on Terra in the 1940s had been assigned a brand new bomber they were to ferry over to Africa. They had been given the aircraft at a Boeing factory on the West Coast, flew it on several hops across the U.S. Continent's Eastern coast.  Before departing, they, being the clever crew, had stuffed little goodies in all the little hiding spots on the plane. Nylons for trade goods had been reputed as a real big hitter, but of course they also included  mens socks, underwear, and even toilet tissue.  All were items to be hidden away and taken out once they and their new planes arrived at their combat stations.  A few watches, loads of nice wooden matches and cartons of cigarettes were also among the hidden goods along with a few non-perishable snacks.  When the crew landed in Florida, a state along the southeast coastline, they left the plane thinking they would be soon winging their way over to combat in their brand spanking new, loaded down bird.  Unfortunately, they were ferried over to an existing outfit, and their brand new planes wound up in some other squadron -- some other guys were sure to have found some real nice "presents from home".

He stood up now and straightened his tie.  He looked pretty good, and the exercise required after each F.I.session had made his muscles sore at first but now had him feeling pretty fit.  It wasn't a dramatic change, but this also helped his fat head stand up a little straighter and he knew he was feeling a little of the new confidence his instructors had told him about.  And warned him about as well.   TT had also made sure he realized that while he didn't have many of the reflexes, his knowlege was dangerous.  The important lession from TT was on jealousy. 

There were plenty of guys who would like to challenge someone they knew who had gone through the F.I. training. TT had warned him to keep his temper and if he had to respond, do so with as much moderation as possible.  And never, never, raise his voice, because officers weren't supposed to, and because hard headed veterans rarely did.  And after F.I., he was supposed to handle himself like a hard headed veteran.  "If even you are still a bonehead from the sticks" TT had finished his lecture with that comment, and then promptly mussed the younger man's hair before leaving.

Belson had taken the rib with amusement.  Guys like TT could kid around cuz they had real experience and ultra confidence.  They had been there, done that, and survived.  Belson knew he could do that as well -- knew how to survive yet do his duty.  But he hadn't proved it yet, and that was a long yardstick yet to be measured with.

He looked at himself in the mirror and realized there was a change there.  His eyes had a cold determined look.  He supposed that was the knowlege again.  In his mind, he had lived through horrible carnage, lost friends and saved others.  And even if his intellect wanted to rationalize it away as someone else's memories, he also remembered what his F.I. instructors had said.  The mind just accepts this stuff and stores it away as if it were your own.  They filter out a lot of trauma, but you're still left with the ugly.  For that is what makes the hardened, veteran fighter.  Only a twinge of vengeance is left, only a touch of sorrow.  It's like years have passed and the opportunity to seek, find, and relish justice have also gone by such that you are whole. But still hard and effective.  That was what he saw in his new eyes.

Stacy Op pulled on the subdued clothes with enthusiasm.  Not because of the change in dressing style, she still loved to inch into her new huggy clothes on her growing body.  But she was going to the Division's informal Mess, a dinner gathering which was open to the Royals.  It had been fairly regular lately, as ordered by the Lord General. She thought it obstensibly to provide the men and women there a chance to meet and rub elbows with all the Royals.  And of course let everyone meeet the several dozens of Royal women.  Stacy wasn't sure if the General was secretly looking for husbands for them or just propping up morale in a military that had never seen combat before.  In either case, she was happy to oblige, even if her body was fighting that desire with its horrible timing.  She sighed and finished dressing and looked herself over in the mirror.  Acceptable.  The shirt was not too loose fitting and also not too tight.  Perfect would be a differnt look altogether and she enjoyed the wicked, wanton look that appeared in they eyes in her mirror.  Wench!

Her newest feature was not making themselves known in any obtrusive way, and unconciously, she rubbed the soft material across her breasts enjoying its feel.  The nipples of course stood at attention, but were only visible if she pulled the material tight.  She swore though and tore off the shirt to put a bra on.  She wasn't going to invite trouble with a bunch of horny soldiers.  That WAS wantion and lewd behavior and she wasn't going to tease those guys.  They deserved better than that from their Royals.  Looking good and joking with them was her job, and she'd stick to it.  She'd probably regret it if her trigger man showed up, but then that was her lot in life lately.  She shrugged and rechecked the new setup in the mirror.

Now the largese was almost noticeable, but the prominent features were well hidden.  Fine.  That would do.  Sometimes it was downright fun being a woman.  Tonight was just not one of those nights.

Nusan had gone missing at lunch time, and she suspected she and the General had gone into town for a bite to eat and perhaps a stroll around.  It seemed odd at this time and under these conditions of crisis, however, a part of her new there were many good reasons.  The one that hurt was that despite his promise not to do anything stupid, the Lord General was going to be a combat leader and that meant that despite his years of survival, he might not return.  That hurt more than even she was willing to admit, and it left a worrying lump in her stomach.  At times she might catch her breath as the thought returned.

She grabbed her link, now devoid of the little icon that used to have the "Captain's" bars, the symbol for contacting her protector.  Perhaps she would program it in herself, knowing full well it might go unanswered.  He was a busy man and besides, she only had his public number, not the private one the Queen had access to.  Or  maybe she'd put a major's leaf on there instead and program in Belson's number.  Again that was fruitless, he never answered calls now, despite her careful timing to prevent being both a nuisance and a pest.

No, she'd leave it barren like her life was now and let it go.  "Screw 'em" she said to herself, never wondering why that phrase was popping up so often of late.

She thanked the guard at the inner sanctum doors and took a slow stroll down the slightly more public corridors of the Palace.  She was a little early.  She found her feet carrying her to the "overlook" an area that looked out over a broad courtyard that could hold thousands of people.  The first Queen of Darius had greeted her citizens from this spot, and the second had watched the first lose her head from that same spot as well.  It was a tradition long gone now.  She stood there wondering what it felt to be a Queen, and then checked herself.  No chance of that, and she was close enough to the current Queen now to realize it was both not a job she wanted, nor could imagine.  If the current Queen's emotional state was any indication, even her own tough as nails mother would succumb quickly.  And Stacy Op was no match for her own sweet but steel-like mother.  No, not a Queen.  But she did look over the courtyard imagining as the Sun began to set, thousands below cheering and looking up. A friendly, appreciative wave, and a tentative smile perhaps.  And Stacy caught herself with hand in the air.

"They wave back.  Did you know that?" a quiet voice made her jump.  She turned to see Anna-lee, the heir apparent, despite the purge of most of the sexual animals.  The purge had resulted in most of the claimants to the throne hiding in smaller castles way far away from the Palace.

"The crowds.  They wave and scream and seem so happy to see you.  And when you go amongst them, they do all kinds of things to show respect, especially since we've never included such displays in their training.  It's from old movies, I expect."  Anna had a wistful look on her face, and Stacy was shocked.  She and Anna had traded a few barbs but never anything approaching a conversation, let alone a civilized one or something that appeared to be so -- well -- heartfelt and open.

"I used to stand there when I was 11, waving to imaginary crowds and wondering what it would be like to be the Queen.  And then I watched our mistress doing the same.  And then she became the Queen and I stood beside her still wondering.  And then once, I turned to look at the crowd -- really looked and I lost my breath.  There they were and even though I knew they were cheering for the Queen next to me, I imagined there must be one -- at least one person out there looking up at me.  Looking up and saying, 'that's the Princess Anna.  Oh how I love our Princess Anna'.  And they must be waving to me.  So I raised my hand and I waved, despite the training we all get, I waved standing there next to the Queen.  She looked over to me and a tear was in her eye and she smiled, and then I felt it.  Royal adoration.

"It is the screwiest thing you'll ever imagine.  It goes into your heart and you can't get it out. When you do something you should ashamed of, perhaps you've ignored the guilt.  This little adoration thing -- like an arrow -- skewers your heart with the love of the people.  Suddenly you can't bear it and you desist.  It's like being a fucking Nun all of a sudden.  Only worse.  It hurts to do wrong.  At first the stories of the Palace debauchery were real.  But soon, the Queen and I couldn't anymore.  The arrow hurt too much.  So we had stories made up."

She turned now to Stacy.  "But Stacy Op.  I never did any of the terrible things they say.  I lost my virginity young and I tried to make love to a woman.  But that was it.  I have been known to bed a young stud once in a great while, at least in the past, but all that rest is just pure media hype.  May God strike me dead now if I lie."

The pleading in her eyes was irresistible.  Stacy was speechless.  While she had condemmed the court, she never realized anyone there gave her one thought.  To find that Anna really cared what she thought was a total shock.  Suddenly it also helped explain why the Queen had suddenly forgotten to ignore the 12^th heir.  It was so much clearer now.  She was the vestile virgin, the one who had not sinned, damn it all anyway.  What a prize to claim.  But in the eyes of these emotionally scarred women, she was a hope for forgiveness and perhaps some damned symbol.  Talk about feeling like a frickin' Nun?

"Its okay Anna. I never really believed the stories.  Some of them defied the laws of physics anyway.  Besides, they tried to say I was screwing Duo, if you can imagine.  Though the thought passed through my mind once or twice, Duo would sooner spank me than bed me.  So I knew the media was full of shit.  That's why I ignored the court, you know.  The Duo thing.  That really hurt.  He was like an Uncle, you know.  I saw the hurt they did him and that I couldn't forgive.  I'm sorry I didn't spare any hurt for you -- or for that matter the Queen.  I was too busy feeling sorry for myself and Uncle Frosty.  Can you forgive me for being such as ass?"

Anna looked as surprised as Stacy must have looked a moment before.  "Forgive you? Oh damn.  It's the other way around.  Oh this is ludicrous, isn't it."  They were both crying now.  Stacy returned the hug and patted the other young woman's back.  They parted and they both sniffed.  "Shit, now I have to go fix my face again" Anna said.

"Off to dinner with the brave lads?" asked Stacy.

"Why yes, you too?"

"Yep.  Let's go fix our faces so our boys see two radiantly beautiful Royals at their morale building best."

"I'm up for that."

The made their way to a lady's room just inside the inner sanctum before heading again toward the public wing and exiting to cross over to the Royal Barracks. The huge edifice hosted the informal mess for all the military for 50 miles around the Palace.  Its imposing structure held many other marshall features, many of which Stacey Op had only imagined previously and was just recently being exposed to.

Duo leaned over and kissed Nusan as she hurriedly finished dressing.

"You old bear.  I can't imagine what I was thinking."

"Time for one more, is what I suspect," answered a beaming old General.

"Shush, you minataur.  God's I look like I've been screwed.  Damn you."

:"Oh yeah, blame the old soldier.  That's about right.  Look you have time to run back to the Palace and spruce up.  I am the last person that would want you not looking your best."

She turned to him her eyes filled with a little bit of surprise.  He grew serious.

"Look here, Professor.  You might complain that I am no spring chicken, but you have many years to  catch me up.  I think you can go out there right now and find a nice accountant or lawyer.  I am not holding you.  But I do really like it when your lunch offers roll into dinner, I really do.  In fact, making this a long speech, I rather enjoy your company all the time.  So if its alright with you, I'd like you to consider shacking up with this old fart and keep me company.  It won't be long anyway, I'll be out in the field in a week or two."

She looked at him in awe.  The old he-goat.  Well, she should have guessed he had a soft spot somewhere, even if was in the little head.  Damned if she'd ever found that soft --- stop that.  Anyway.  She looked him deep in the eyes and just stood there wondering.  She reached out and caressed his face.

"I won't keep you long waiting for an answer, he-goat, but let me think about it.  I really think I've inherited something from you that I feel obligated to keep a focus on. Stacep Op is shifting some of that crutch onto me.   But maybe a few weeks of separation will do her good, you think?"

"Well, she is about that age.  She was nigh pretty frisky at the last there, and I am sure that if I hadn't sent young Belson off to F.I. training, she'd have raped him...."

"You didn't..."

"No, no, he needed the training for his own reasons, not mine.  In fact, I'd really like the two of them to get together.  He's a nice lad from the country, she's a nice lady who is outside the court -- or at least was.  In any case, it would be a good match for this land with all its in-breeding.  If he's as strong a lad as I suspect, though, there are liable to be some fireworks.  That Stacy Op..."

"Oh, I know, I know.  You shoould she see her with the Queen.  Lord I am glad our Queen has lost her taste for bloodshed.  There are times I literally cringe.  What scares me is that I feel I have to back Stacy up, no matter what .  As if the lackof support will be her end.  Our Queen is still a scary woman."

"Scary Royal, you mean.  They ARE different genders if not species."

"Yes, well.  Back to current affairs" and Nusan giggled then caught herself.  "Listen to me, like a little girl"

"Only when and where it counts, my love" said the old soldier giving her another affectionate and slightly armorous squeeze.

"Stop that.  Anyway, like I said, let me think on it."

"That's acceptable.  I will hurt while I wait" he said cheerfully and she stepped back to give his arm a helluva chuck for trying to push her with guilt.

"Ow!"

"That's for pushing. Now how do I really look.  No lieing now."

"You mean besides the 'I've had my ashes hauled glow' I suspect.  You look fine.  Just really healthy and happy. No amount of makeup or cold shower is going to fix what's showing all over your face.  Try to think about something dreadful while your eating dinner.  Maybe that will fix it."

"You're incorrigible, you know."

"No need to encourge me, I am Johnny on the spot, ready to go.  Just say the word.  Green light and I'm off. Countdown and..."

"You really are too much. Put that away soldier and escort me to the dining hall so all your officers and men can see what a harlot I am."

"Are not.  Fine looking woman your are.  I wouldn't be caught anywhere within a mile of a harlot."

"Right, right.  Come on.  You're sex drunk.  Come on,  get moving.  I never realized you Generals were such a sorry lot.  My grandfather didn't have to be pushed along like a old mule.  Get along you big brute.  Jesus you are heavy."

They fought like that all the way down the corridor until they neared public view and then quieted down somewhat, but still exchanging jabs and cries of innocence, trading off now and then as the instigator.  More like two adolescents than middle aged adults.

Stacy and Anna smiled as they parted upon entering the door to the mess hall, all eyes on them.   Stacy noticed she had half the crowd's attention and Anna the other half.  Was she as important, certainly not.  But she flattered herself to think that she might have inherited enough of the genetic pool's beauty to compete a little.  She did realize that if the heir apparent stood in this room after sitting down, there would be instant silence.  However, if Stacy were to stand, perhaps only the table next to her would grow quiet out of respect of some sort. It was a matter of priority and standing.  She wondered if their brand new friendship could stand a test of Stacy's insatiable curiousity.

She sat down, took introductions from the half full table as they were a few minutes early still, and then took a moment to key in a quick message to Anna's link -- they had exchanged numbers in the lady's room.  "Shall we test your thesis on Royal adoration?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT. What do you have in mind .:)"

"I am going to stand up over here sometime shortly after the official meal call.  Then about ten minutes later you stand up.  Let's see who gets the most attention?  Wanna place any bets?"

"You'll be surprised I think, so yeah.  If we get the same treatment, you have to lay out a bath in the Palace baths and scrub my back and such.  If few show you Royal respect, then I'll do your back and even through in a massage.  How's that?"

"Perfect.  No girl-girl stuff, though."

"GAD, I told you once was more than enough for me, none of that.  Yick"

"Okay, you're on."

"Right.  Good Luck."

"Yeah, like you mean it, toad."

She signed off and smiled to herself, returning to the table.  She flirted a little with the guys next to her and winked at the female Sergeant sitting across from her who blushed.  She was probably wishing she could flirt too, but the friggin' discipline of the service was rough on the man-woman thing.  It made Stacy feel glad she'd never had to serve.  Although, walking around with Captain Duo around was like serving in the military in many ways.  Especially when he pulled the bed check and forced her to remake her bed about a dozen times.  And when she snuck out to stay with a bunch of other girls, he had such a fit. Yep, just like a father AND a commanding officer.

Just before the expected call to attention and the call to mess was made, she noticed the Royal Barracks Sergeant at Arms moving away from the door.  That was a little odd.  On her previous visits, she had noticed the man stoically waiting for the second digits on the Big Chrono mark up to the designated time.

The chrono had about 1 minute left as a figure entered the hall quietly, striding down to an aisle in a not too rapid but almost self concious pace.  The young man had ripstops -- jumpboots -- on, which were bloused impeccably at the tops.  The uniform was informal green khakis, but nicely pressed, and the body looked very fit.  Not "pumped up" but not wimpy either.  Therer was a small indistinguishable pin on his epulet, a Major's leaf on the collar and a cord at his left shoulder.  He carried a black beret in the crook of his arm as he paced, like any other soldier down the aisle.  He turned on the corner like a parade ground turn but with a little less panache, still looking fairly non-chalant.  And then he marched directly to the table where Anna sat and stopped facing the table standing at the end where there was no seat and then again quite casually, standing there staring ahead at eye level.

Stacy looked around and another soldier, dressed in identical fashion repeating the same casual march that wasn't a march.  He wound up at another of the Royal's table.  She glanced around and picked out an even dozen who were in the mess.  And suddenly she realized there was a rather stunningly good looking young man standing at her table, beret in the crook of his arm, the confidence and maturity leaking off him like an aroma.   Oh shit. She'd heard about this. Warrior Stink.  The crude expression was appropriate though.  Something in the human genome had been triggered by battle and longevity in space.   Pheromes of incredible potency literally eeked off young warriors, all the better to produce lots of baies to populate the universe.  The old theory was fully accepted -- had been for centuries.

And as fates would have it, her adrenlin jumped, her heart made an irregular beat and she was off into another incredible hot flash.  It was, of course, Belson standing there, a nice shiny Major's leaf on his uniform pretending to not know or notice her very existence.  "Be still" she warned her errant body but also realized it was no use.

The mess was entirely quiet now.  Talk about adoration!  When all the royal tables had a young soldier standing at their ends, the Sergeant of Arms reappeared and shouted, "Ten-Shut.  Command on Deck!"

The Lord General entered the room with Nusan at his arm, and quietly said, "at ease" to the Sergeant. "At Ease" parroted the Sergeant and while the standing men and women unbraced they remained standing.

The General walked over to a little podium where usually the MOD, Mess Officer of the Day spoke a few words and the Chaplain said a prayer.  Today, they were getting a few words from their Commander.

"Please sit, your Royal highnesses, ladies, gentlemen, and Marines!"

"Joo Rah!" screamed the Royal Marines as they all sat.

"I'd like to welcome you all to the Royal Barracks for our little informal dinner.  Today we have we us nearly a dozen of our Royals, and I am very pleased to welcome them.  We need the support and good will of the Queen and your being here is a more than adequate statement of that support.  Thank you.  Now as I am sure you have seen, we have some other guests, if you can call them that, with us tonight.  I'd like to introduce to you a first of sorts.  When I joined the Queen's Royal Marines ages ago -- and I do mean ages..."  A quiet chuckle worked through some of the vets in the room who really understood what that meant, and Stacy noticed a slight smile appear on Belson's face for a fleeting moment and then vanish.

The General continued, "...I found that we needed some very special training.  They put me together with some really old salts and hard rocks who taught me the meaning of command, sacrifice and duty.  They also made it clear what the terms honor and ethics meant.  Those last two seem to get lost now and then.  Every nation's military academies lose it from time to time, so it's nice to have hard rocks and salty types to remind us.  And so I learned.  Today we have a similiar course.  It lasts for three months, with the last two weeks being a rather intensive mental exercise which is highly classified.  Suffice to say, our young officers and non-coms come out of this extremely rigourous training changed men and women.  It is profound, as I have experienced.  Among you are new graduates, those standing.  A number veterans of this training multiple times over are also hidden in those seated.  I'd like those vets to now stand. "

Stacy recognized Too Tall and several others of the impressive men and women she had recognized in her short period of service to the Queen.  Too Tall was wearing that set of amazing chevrons, more stripes than you could count pointing up and down, and more colored rows of ribbons than she had ever seen on a soldier.

"You will notice that some of these individuals are Non Commissioned Officers, and I wish to inform you that these are the best the human race has to offer.  You can note them in formal dress by the decorations they wear and the small globe and anchor in the center symbol of their Sergeant Major chevrons. In older terms, they have at one times in their long careers been known as the  "Command Sergeant Major", a rank not officially in the structure here. It implies that these men and women can and have acted as Generals on the battlefield.  Many have served as the top NCO for their service helping  the headquarters types do the right thing for all enlisted.  They know battle, survival, tactics, and most of all honor.  In our case, these are all graduates of the F.I. training course.  That is all the recognition they usually get, so I am breaking tradition this once.  You will hear more about that later.   You old farts can be seated now."

All but the young men standing at the Royal tables sat down again.

"Now for the youngest of our graduates..." and they all snapped into perfect attention, the casualness gone, the steely eyed game faces on, and their posture inviting trouble.  Stacy was almost breathless.

"...the first of the Darius graduates in over a century, I'd like to say I am sorry we have been forced to convene your class.  But as all of us hear know and I pretty well can assume acknowlege, this is a time where your new skills, courage, and confidence will serve us well. Hell, folks we need you.  Congratulations.  You may be at ease." Duo smiled and then sat down.

Belson relaxed, walked carefully between tables and without any outside indication found a spot cleared directly across from the only Royal at his table, Stacy Op.  He stood there.

"Good evening, milady.  Permission to join you?"

Stacy stared.  She was literally dumbfounded.  Oh god.  Breathe.  Damn it, breathe.

"The proper reply, milady is 'take a hike, soldier.  Or I'd prefer, a simple please if I may be so honored."  Belson smiled quietly, the words soft spoken and not hinting a bit of any irony or ponintedness.  It was if he was asking for the salt to be passed.

"Please" she managed to croak.  The young female Sergeant sitting next to where Belson looked at Stacy with some concern.  Obviously she had not been pole axed like the young Royal.

"Major, I think the lady is having trouble breathing," said the lady Sergeant at their table.

"Nonsense, Sergeant.  It's her new shirt.  She has grown some in the last three months and I have it on good authority that the lady professor who she's been shopping with has been buying her clothes too tight.  It will wear off.  Or at least I hope so.  My CPR is rusty and I've found that kissing a Royal can be dangerous to your heatlth.  But if that does happen, the honor is yours."

The Sergeant grinned and looked down at her food, obviously making sure she didn't utter a sound.  That bastard.  Okay, so he noticed.  But that bastard!

"Nice hat, soldier.  I wore one when I was girl scout" her errant mouth let out in a soft voice that was nearly a croak.  Oh shit!

"Ahh she recovers.  It IS a nice hat, milady.  This particular one is from circa twentieth century, planet Terra.  Or Earth as they called it then.  You might remember it as homeworld.  In any case, this one was taken off the battlefield in a place called Iraq.  It belonged to a nice gentleman called Wiley.  He died there. His widow held onto it, and his son treasured it for many years. When Wiley's grandson went to war, he wore it and then brought it home where it rested in a box with his uniform and decorations.  Wiley's great grandson, honoring his father, had the beret frocked up and set on a peg over a nice display of his father's decorations where it sat until shortly after that last soldier in the family was laid to rest.  Then that son donated it to a Museum which, having about a thousand of them, carefully labelled it and set it in honorable storage until the day a special need would call for its use.  It arrived on Darius along with some special men, whose mission and arrival remains classified today.  It has been in storage in the Palace all that time until, today it was issued to me.  So, yes it is a 'nice hat'. Old, a little worn, but indeed a nice hat.  And it is mine for awhile.  Until the time comes when, if need be, it will come off the battlefield.  It that should happen, Sergeant, could you make sure the lady Stacy Op receives it with the honor it is due?"

"Aye, aye", said the Sergeant, her eyes glittering.  "You can depend on it.  One of us at this table for sure," and she got nods from everyone except Stacy Op.

Stacy in the meantime remained frozen.  Oh god of embrassment, please help me now. I have gone and done it again.  Oh double damn, oh mouth that will forever remain shut.  She knew her face was lit with a blush that must have been visible all the way to the General's table.  She glanced over and caught a concerned look from Nusan. Great, share the embrassment with the people she loved. A quiet word from the General turned Nusan's face away and Stacy returned her face to the military issue utensils facing her.

"The lady seems to lost her air again, Major."

And Stacy chanced to look up at the Sergeant, who seemed oblivious to the cause of the problem.

"She is just terribly honored.  First a tight shirt and know the promise of new hat.  Tough things to deal with when you're a Royal.  Did you know, Sergeant, that the lady Stacy Op is newly returned to court?  I had the opportunity to watch her give the Queen quite a dressing down.  At the time I was ready to dive for cover, because her majesty had not yet sworn off her sharp little knives.  But our lady here stood her ground. And rightfully so.  She is also very good friends with the Lord General, whom I hear gave up drinking fine beer in order to sign on as her protector and mentor.  I do notice he is enjoying a nice glass of wine tonight however.  Splendid.  In fact, I think we need wine for the table.  Steward, would that be possible?" he sang out in a louder voice as the steward leaned in.

"Sir?"

"Can we have some of the General's wine at all the Royal tables please, courtesy of the lady Stacy Op?"

"Of course.  I will see to it."

"Alright" mumbled several at the table and the Sergeant next to Belson added, "Excellent idea, Major.  It might also help the lady with her, uhhh breathing problem."

"Oh I am sure.  I might tell stories of her drinking, but alas that would be telling and besides, I have forgotten a lot of the details. In any case, my understanding of the protocol of these informal mess occasions is for the combat vets to tell us of their chance meetings with danger or daring do...."

He turned his attention to a slighly older man to Stacy's right, taking the focus off her for a precious few moments and her breathing began to calm.

"Gunnery Sergeant, you've recently returned from some fun in the sun, have you not?"

"Yes, Sir.  It was fun of sorts.  We were dropped in near the hilltop her ladyship had just been flown out from.  Frosty, uhh the General had evacuated her and some archeologists out of there pronto.  Anyway we were brought in to check the situation out.  A ship went off like a huge fireworks display real high up over our head and debris was raining down.  Under cover, we snuck up to the hillside and then laid down some gilly mats -- uhhh camo that gets made up from sat shots, looks identical to the ground your on.  Occasionally it even has ridges that match up, usually no sharp lines and like that though.  We set up a back channel with an infrared laser, which in retrospect could have been a frickin' searchlight.  Anyway, we kept an eye on the Greenies as they went about their business and then observed a second ship come in at a very high altitude.  We weren't spotted though, the gilly mat's do a great job .  They hide heat signatures and we had on our own gilly suits which put the same signature as the terrain like the mat. So we were nigh invisible from altitude."

"Any action?"

"Not really, Sir.  Well, we did observe the high altitude sphere fire off a pretty large missile, I think we all know about that, but no direct action ourselves.  I can tell you we were frosty calm but scared witless, you know what I mean?"

"I think so.  Remind me to go into that with you at another time.  I might have a few things for you to think about.  Or not.  Anyway I am jealous.  Anyone else?"

Stacy was recovering pretty well now.  As Belson was doing her job of talking it up with the troops, she was beginning to calm down.  The embrassment had all but shut the hot flash down, but she could still feel her cheeks -- warm as hell.  The Sergeant next to Belson spoke up.

"I was over at the archeological site, Sir.  Much of what happened there is classified but I did get to watch Captain Frosty in action. He calmed everybody down and then began issuing orders like he'd done it before -- of course we now know he had.  Anyway, the ideas began popping out of his head and then suddenly they just stopped.  That's when he started riling the professors up.  To start them thinking.  Best minds on the planet he said, although most of them were pretty shook up. The thing is, that the Captain knew what was coming and he started flitters in and out at break neck speed.  Priority stuff and people out first and then on down the list.  I left on about the fifth ship.  It was pretty vacant by then.  We flew on to a rendevous point on a different course than the other ships, or so I learned later, and then we settled down in a canyon about 20 minutes away.  Later we dee-deed out to a master join-up site and then were hustled back here."

"I was at a cool spot at the beginning" volunteered a bright eyed and enthusiastic Lieutenant.  "I was at the landing docks when the first flitter came flying in.  The doors opened and a round of cheering broke out from aboard the ship.  Out stepped the lady here and the guys on board were giving her three cheers.  She smiled and waved at all of us and hustled off to meet with the Queen.  Weren't you were there too, Sir?" he asked of Belson.

"Yep, not one of my finer days, actually.  I had spent the majority of the time grousing cuz I was with the Queen instead of where the action was.  I did finally meet up with the lady later, with the Queen I might add.  But I have told you about that already.  How about you Corporal, you were nodding..."

And it was then that Stacy remembered her test with Anna.  She suddenly stood up and the table grew quiet. As she stood and waited, the tables around them grew quiet as well.  And then something remarkable happened.  Nusan nudged the General and the General immediately stood.  The entire room was quickly on their feet.  Silence descended.  The Stewards froze and the kitchen door was suddenly blocked by the Sergeant of Arms.

Now that was amazing.

"Milady, "queried Belson, a worried look finally crossing that irritatingly calm exterior.

"If you will excuse me ladies and gentlemen.  Major would you escort me?"

"Certainly," replied Belson and he switched the Beret to his left hand and extended his elbow.  She gladly took it and they quick stepped to an exit nearby the table.  She breathed a sigh as the door closed behind them.

"Where too?" asked Belson his voice icy and full of steel.

"Overlook," was her only reply.  As they walked slowly, Belson exuding calm once again, her link chirruped.  It was Anna.  It was a message only, and she read it, stopping in the corridor and Belson standing patiently.   "Told you so.  I like cherry blossom fragrance."

"Shit," she said to herself.  There was a second message.  She read that one too.  "If you can compose yourself, the Queen is making a surprise visit in about ten minutes time, we'd appreciate your presence, your highness - Duo."

"Double Shit.  Now I've gone and done it."

She turned to Belson, and with pleading eyes looked at him.  "I'm in trouble.  I screwed up.  Terribly.  I insulted the man I love dearly right after I insulted the man I want so dearly to love.  What can I do?"

"Take it in stride, Stacy.  It's what I do.  Of course, I don't often piss off the Lord General, walk out and upstage the Queen, nor do I degrade a Special Forces beret to the face of the honor graduate of F.I. training either.  So maybe my advice is not so good."

"Really"

"Yes the Queen is due in there any minute and the word will get out to the hacks that you walked out on her, even if I suspect that just isn't the case."

"Not that."

"The hat, yes I told you..."

"No ass.  You.  You were the honor graduate?"

"There can only be one?" he said in a dramatized low voice.  "Yeah, me.  Kinda weird really.  But I kept Frosty in my mind through the whole friggin' ordeal and it helped get me through.  And I studied real hard.  I had some things to prove to myself, and I guess for all the wrong reasons, a bunch of others.  One thing I did do that was right, though, was keep hoping.  That really made the difference."

"Hoping?" she asked with a voice at sea, her mind whirling again with the possibilities, wondering, wishing, beyond hope.

"Well yeah" he answered sarcastically.  He looked at her face and comprehension dawned.  "Oh Stacy Op.  You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.  Head in the clouds one minute, saving the world the next.  And oblivious to the people around you.  I bet you don't even know who is the most eligible Royal and who has more press time than any women including the Queen.  You don't do you.  Christ and Mary.  Dense too.  Here, come on, come here."

He marched her down the corridor where a suit of armor was posed in a well lit archive.

"Look. There reflected on the Armor.  That is the 12^th heir to the throne of Darius, current confidant of the Queen. Friend and ally of the Lord General and perhaps chooser of the Royal consorts to be.  Hero of the Acradian Hill run, and credited with the so called 'Change of Heart' for her Majesty and member of the original war council.  Lady of my heart and dreams, the fair undeclared Princess of Darius, her lady Stacy Op Davis Lee Crims.  My hope and desires for love and comfort all bound up in one child-woman who is as dense as a rock and so far out in left..."

His voice was stopped by the clench and kiss fiercely delivered by Stacy.  The embrace lasted for a good long time, softening from passion to comfort and then very romantic and then becoming extremley sensual again before finally Belson put a stop to it by softly but firmly overpowering her and pushing her back.

"Well." he breathed hard for more than a few seconds tryng gain some control of the situation, and failing utterly.  Finally in a voice that sounded a;l too shakey he contineud, "...that is very nice, milady, but we have a timing problem right now."

"You bastard."

"Yes.  Of course you are right.  But we need....what we need right now to do is to think up an excuse. What could be so important that you leave the mess?"

"Oh that's easy now that my head is clear and my heart's satisfied, my love.  Nothing is more important than the Queen."

"Gad, the genius of it all.  That will take care of the wags.  Can you bring it off?"

"Oh yeah.  You were telling me this great story of the Queen and the Change in Heart at the table, right.  And then the Sergeant talking about those poor people left at the site.  I rushed off to beg the Queen to honor those poor people -- I'd do that any way if I had my head on straight -- and since she was coming anyway, we rushed back to make sure we didn't upstage her entrance.  I'm gibbering I know, but.  What do you think?"

"You serious about honoring them?"

"Damn straight.  Like I said, someone -- I -- anyone should have done it by now.  I feel so guilty for running -- I put it out of my mind."

"Well, you don't take all the credit.  I had a lot of guilt to overcome myself.  Look.  If you are serious and this is from the heart -- and I guess I wouldn't love you if..."

"What'd you say?"

"I had a lot of guilt..."

"Not that, ass.  You said you loved me.  Say it again."

"I love you."

"That's it.  Once more."

"Now Stacy we..."

"Once more and I'll shut up."

He paused, looked at her for a long minute.  "Stacy Op, I do dearly love you.  Will you wear my pretty little girl scout hat for me?"

"Only if you do unspeakable things to my body and promise to keep doing them."

"You are disgusting."

"Yes, but look at my gene pool.  It's not hard to understand once you look at the history..."

"We're out of time Stacy."

"Screw the Queen."

"Well she was up for it, but I chickened out" he said and then looked up at the sky wondering where that had come from.

"WHAT!" screamed Stacy.

"Calm down, I was just kidding.  What happened is that she warned me that if I didn't act like a good soldier she'd assume I was like the rest of her cabinet...you know the drill.  I got out of there like a fish with tail bite."

"I shouldn't wonder. She could be your mother twice over."

"Yeah, but that hasn't hurt her looks...okay, okay, don't hit so hard.  I am only a pretend soldier so far, I haven't..."

"Top of the class?"

"Yeah.  Amazing.  I still think Frosty was loading the dice somehow."

"Oh stop it.  He'd never."

"Yeah, you don't know how right you are.  Anyway.  Focus.  How do we get to the Queen instantly?"

"Oh that's easy.  I just push this little button and pray."  She used the buttons on he COM to select the little crown with the number one next to and pressed the "snd" button. 

She got the intercept.  "Stacy Op - password, Esten Eager.  Connect me please.  Thank you."  she waited and held up crossed fingers.  Belson nodded, holding up his crossed fingers too.  Both hands.

"Stacy, honey, I'm on my way to the mess now.  Did Duo ask you to call?  Tell him I am hurrying."

"No mame.  I called for my own reasons, I...can I ask you for a favor for when you get here?"

"If you can ask in twenty seconds."

"Easy.  I want to honor the people lost at the archeological site.  I don't know their names or what's appropriate, but...well Major Belson was talking about it and well...I realized I missed doing my duty and have been horrible.  I should have asked you sooner or even done it myself.  I am such a airhead sometimes..."

"Times up.  There's a problem, honey.  I had the interviews, especially yours, edited.   The people don't know the details. But if we can keep it general, make them sound like civilians taking up arms instead of being kidnapped, and don't talk numbers, I think we can go with it. I'll get my idiot aide on it.  By the time my little speech is done, we'll have you do one of your own in bullet form.  He'll make sure the media kit has a nice little plaque simulated too.  How about a wall of heroes, as well?"

"That sounds great.  Uhhh, Major Belson has a thought, too."

"Put him on."

"Your majesty, very quickly.  Were we able to save the large gold shield from the dig?  I had heard a rumor to that effect..."

"Yes, we have that.  Worthless of course, no electronics, just a pretty bauble..."

"That's perfect.  Can you have someone bring it along, but draped.  I'll give Lady Stacy Op a few words to go with it."

"All fine and done.  Now can we get on with it, children?"

"Yes, Mame, we'll not wait for you." signed off Belson. Then turning to Stacy,  "It's arranged.  Look, I'll escort you back in and then jot down some words for you on your link.  You can be creative, mixing the Queen's speech writer's text with mine.  I think that is one of your talents.  Anyway, it's going to work."

"I asked you for help didn't I?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her.  "Of course you did."

"Then you said you loved me, right?"

"Hmm, sorta yeah."

"And then I kissed you.  A real nice kiss.  Then you said you loved me again."

"Those exact words, twice if I recall -- and I really do..."

"Then you're right, everything's going to okay.  Everything's fine.  When are we going to go to bed and celebrate?"

"Whoa, young thing.  You seem to forget that you are not of legal age,  and I suppose more importantly as far as my neck is concerned, you ARE Royalty.  And you have this reputation as the innocent one."

"Lots of girls lose their virginity at 17. Besides I am a college senior."

"Doesn't matter. The law will put me away.  The Media will find out and cut me a new asshole and shred your image. Nothing's worth going to prison anywhere on Planet Darius, believe me."

"Not even over my cute little ass?"

"Especially your incredible and delicious soft tissue, my sweet.  We are going to be very careful and have a nice long courtship until your birthday, you hear?"

"No, some static broke in somewhere around careful and birthday.  You are going to give me something special, a certain..."

"That's it, we're getting some drugs for you, young lady.  Come one, snap out of it, we're back to the open mess again. Shit, you can't hold your wine, can you?"

As he hauled her on the arm, they neared the corner and turned to find several guardsman arriving.  They were just beating the Queen in.

"No honors, Sergeant" said Belson and the Sergeant of Arms took one look at him and pushed them back away from the door.   As Belson straightened himself, the Sergeant leaned in and wiped some lipstick off his face and straightened his tie. Belson rolled his eyes skyward.  What a disaster. Then Belson looked over atStacy Op and pointed at where her shirt was threatening to exit its tenous tuck in at the belt and she did the shirt and beltline maneuver, tucking it in all around.  He softly brushed back an errant hair.

"There.  Now you look like you lost your cookies in the toilet, rather than were making out with the new soldier boy," he said in a hushed voice.

"Great, the Queen will be so pleased, " she replied in whisper.

He followed the Sergeant of Arms with Stacy Op on his arm..  As she stepped into the room, Anna, obviously having her devious eye on the door, suddenly stood at her table. Again the whole room stood and grew silent.

"In stride, milady" whispered Belson, and she straightened her back and took his arm as they returned to their table.  She stopped for a moment to whisper thanks to Anna and then at her table thanked them all for their honoring her and then sat, a picture perfect Royal once again.

"No more wine for the lady, Steward," said Belson so that the rest of the table and a few nearby could hear it.  And thus he set the rumor going.  "I'm afraid despite its excellent flavor it does not agree with the lady.  I on the other hand..." he gulped the little that remained in his glass, "am dry.  Deplorable."

"I quite agree" said the Steward as he, in a state of visible distress, poured more into Belson's glass.

"Would the lady like the main course, now?"

"Yes, please, but you'll have to hurry, Steward, we are expecting some company."

"Right away, milady, it's just the other side of the door."

As he strode away in some agitation, she added in a quieter voice but so the table could hear as she leaned in to get their attention, "So's the company.  Head's up everyone, it's going to get a little heavy in here real soon."

"Sergeant, why don't you change seats with the Corporal on the Major's left, I think he's going to want you at his side." This she remarked to the giant holding down her end of the table.

Seeking confirmation from Belson, who nodded, the giant casually stood and the Corporal rushed to oblige, the rest of the row shifting down on the full table.  They then passed plates and utensils across.

"Perfect table, Major.  Remind me to sit here again."

"Absolutely, milady.  Ahh here's your plate.  Just in time to be ignored, I expect."

"Say it isn't so.   Sergeant, did you know that you are sitting next to a very romantic Major. Why just a few minutes ago..."

"Ten Shut!  Her Majesty the Queen!"

The room shot to their feet and as planned, Stacy was robbed of her chance to embarass Belson further.

The Queen entered with a small entourage which quickly followed by.  They were confronted by a Vid crew with head cameras seated on the floor in front of the dias.  Stacy noticed the Sergeant of Arms helping a burly page find a spot to rest a draped burden.  Belson caught the Sergeant of Arms eye, pointed at their table.  With a nod, the Page worked his way over towards them while the mess hall's attention was squarely focused on the rare visit from the Monarch.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen.  As We know that We have interrupted your meal, We pray your forgiveness and take your seats.  Please."

The hall returned to their seats as quickly as they had left them.  A "Please" from the Monarch was also quite rare and they hurried to comply.

"We've not been to this hall for sometime and  for that We...I apologize.  We hope the ladies who have come in our stead have managed to fill in nicely.  Thank you all, ladies.  Our records show the Stacy Op has been your steadfast companion, and We do appreciate her regular attendance, although We also understand the food here is good and the service extremley courteous..." and this grew a chuckle, the Royal Barrack stewards were in the military cooks corps, and while they had no choice in the manner, they never-the-less took their job seriously and quite politely.  One never knew if one were serving a future superior.

"In any case, We commend all our ladies for their help in these difficult times.  The General asked that We give you all a personal update on the state of affairs.  We find ourselves in total concurrance with the idea, but first We wanted to thank you for your gallant efforts to date. The events have claimed, at best count some 53 lifes on the ground and some 45 in the air.  That total, 98, is the largest - nay the only combat casualties on Darius for more than two centuries.  That the assailants be an army We have little information about or intelligence on, is also quite daunting.

"To date, We have a military strength that remains classified but We can tell you that it is a small but extremely dedicated and effective force.  This evening, the General has welcomed, We are told, some 24 new members to our elite F.I. graduates.  As they say, they need no other distinction.  We congratulate you graduates, and hope you will be the basis for Our much enlarged martial forces. The General has laid out some plans to that effect. 

"Many of you here may also find yourselves with the opportunity to attend the F.I. training.  As We know your dedication to duty will most likely entice you to accept that opportunity without our urging, we never-the-less want to extend a vote of condfidence to this institution.  Much of the past is clouded by the passing of time, but We feel it necessary to burn away some of those clouds.  Our position on the Trade Route has somewhat isolated us from time and our beginnings.  Our military has its seeds back in those times.  Our ancestors brought teams of military experts to Darius and embarked them on a bold plan to prepare us for any emergency which would require the technology and leaders necessary to fight in modern warfare.  Much of what they planned and put in place still remains secret, some details are not revealed to ourselves.  The time of their need as not yet come.

"Our Trade Route partners, as you know, have instituted the Gate Lockdown at Our request.  This action could not have happend so quickly but for the expert planning that went on long ago..  The Lord General assures Us that We have both time and resources necessary to meet incredible contingencies here, and the current danger is nothing more than an irritation compared to that which was prepared for..  With that knowlege, verified by truth scan, We are confident that you are the spearhead of larger and extremely capable military force.

"As to the vistors to our planet. We have made operational, hitherto secret installations for the scanning of Deep Space.  You will be happy to know that We are not threatened by any ships for several parcsecs.  As We do not believe our visitors have ships capable of lightspeed in system, We remain confident that We are facing only a scouting party.  We also are implementing the first stages of contingency plans should our foe be more resiliant than current military resources will be able to deal with.  Once we have eliminated the threat and forward that information through the gate, the temporary cessation of trade will be lifted and the gate reopened

"We we are expanding the military force ten fold or more, and have instituted the necessary strategies to increase that by ten fold again if necessary.   We have opened some small number of the total military storage facilities put in place centuries ago with equipment far superior than that fielded today.  Incidentally, that equipment has  incrementally been updated by our military scientists in secret over the decades.

"We have other advantages we cannot discuss over open channels.  What We ask of you, our military today, is to prepare yourselfs to lead a new and growing military force.  And to the people of Darius, We ask you to consider helping us in this battle.  Consider our basic level academies and then once on board, consider the F.I.program.  We are hoping for an all volunteer force so that We do not need to institute conscription.

"With that, We would introduce our niece, the 12th heir to the throne and our must trusted confident, the lady Stacy Op Davis Lee Crims."

Stacy stood as Belson and the giant of a Sergeant helped the Page set an edge of the draped object on a pre cleared section near the corner of the table.  Stacy moved over so the vid-crew could easily home in on her and then widen when necessary to capture the object.  She pushed down a bit of stage fright, caught an encouraging eye from Belson.  She had been given the address of the vid crew as the Queen had entered, and she had replied with her bullet points just as the Queen finished her speech.  She looked now at the vid crew and saw a nice black background display with her words in white. That was exceedingly considerate of him.  She didn't need the help, however.

"Good Evening. I am standing with some of the heros of our military force, sharing, as we the Queen's ladies have done for some time now, the stories and noting their courage.  Tonight we are joined by one of the new F.I. graduates and a close friend, Major Belson, formerly of the Queen's Guard.  Major Belson actually got his start as a Page in the Queen's service so I encourage any of you who are considering helping us to think about the many paths to the military that the Queen's service allows.

"I especially wanted to pay special homage to those heroes from an archeological site near the crisis area. Sergeant Thomas would you stand.  This young soldier flew out of the site with a number of innocent archeologists, part of the team rescuing a large number from capture.  Thank you Sergeant.  I can tell you from my own experience that it took great courage to face the unknown and it is people like Segeant Thomas here and my mentor Duo Formsley who will ensure us victory.

"To that end, Major Belson, who was at the hilltop with me, wishes to join me in making a dedication to those people who did not return with us from that archeological site.  If you can capture the object on the table, here ..." and the vid crew floor director gave her the circled finger ok sign, "...this is an ancient artifact that was taken from the site before its capture.  It appears to be an ancient symbolic shield, perhaps a replica of anceint fighting shield.  Major Belson has asked me to request that the shield become the symbol and standard for the new F.I. class.  He has told me he would proudly wear the shield patch on his uniform to signify his commitment to protect the people of Darius from this new threat.  Sergeant Thomas and Major will be happy to make themselves available tomorrow to answer any of your questions.  Thank you, your Majesty."

The vid crew hustled back over to capture the Queen as she wound up the "show". 

"Thank you Stacy Op.  To the people of Darius, I wish to convey Our heartfelt good wishes again to Our ladies.  In this room tonight, are the future of our Monarcy -- one of thes woman will be the designated heir, demonstrating our great committment to the Lord General and his team of courageous men and women.  Good night and God's speed." 

With a small wave and nod, she pointedly acknowleged Anna and Stacy Op before sweeping out the door.  Stacy noted the journalists taking note of the gestures, and wondered how the follow up story would read.  She glanced over to Anna who answered her look with a shrug.

Well that was interesting. 

As she sat down again, Belson confirmed others had noticed too. "Well that last bit was interesting." 

She could tell he was dying to ask her questions about the exchange of friendly looks between her and Anna, but knew it was dangerous to speak here.

"With the lady's permission.  You folks at the table here must realize that this was a special "informal mess".  Stacy Op's seating arrangement was just that.  Arranged.  For a purpose, as were the tables for all the Royals here this evening.  We'd like to invite you all to a special reception followed by a more private one.  After you finish your meals, you may retire of course.  However, if you'd care to join us, the Royal Reception Room will be aware of your invitation, so please join us.  Now if you don't mind, I am going to take the Lady to the Kitchen for a quick snack since I am afraid her meal has grown cold.  Milady."

"I hope to see you all at the reception." she added, noting that if her new found status was any indication, the compunction to follow a "Royal Invitation" would ensure 100% attendance.  She stopped to whisper to the young Sergeant Thomas, letting her know she should speak with her PIO -- Public Information Officer before saying word one to the press.  Belson leaned over and said, "I think the lady probably warned you about the press, so let her think it was her idea and be sure to thank her for the advice.  Royals tend to forget we know our jobs.  Semper Fi, Sarge."

Both received smiles from the remarkably self assured young Sergeant, as she said "You two make sure your remember where the reception is."

Stacy only hoped the Sergeant was the only one who had seen through their ruse.