Earth Girl (22 page)

So, I had to admire Military Support. I’d just requested information that told me my parents had been Military. That meant Military Support were now free to contact me, my record on their system had been flagged, and bing I had mail!

It was formal written mail, not a vid. The document was version two. I’m betting version one of it had been sitting on the Military Support system waiting to be sent since I was 14. When I was 18 it was changed and became version two.

I read it. The first part said that since I had at least one Military parent I was entitled to a Military education scholarship for the duration of my studies. As I was a ward of Hospital Earth, the fee element was not relevant as my education fees would be automatically paid by Hospital Earth. I was, however, entitled to the maintenance element in addition to any provision by Hospital Earth, and that would be regularly credited to my account including any arrears due.

It wasn’t the most important thing at that moment, but my income had suddenly doubled.

The second section of the mail drove everything else out of my head. I was the Honour Child for my grandmother, Jarra Tell Morrath. As I was now 18, the Honour Ceremony would be carried out if I was ready to take part. Military Support would be happy to supply any information, assistance, or advice I required on these or any other issues.

I was grazzed. I was a Military Honour Child, and named Jarra after my grandmother. How the chaos did that happen? The system just didn’t work that way. Hospital Earth chose the names of its wards to prevent us getting ones that labelled us as cast offs from one sector or another. That was for obvious reasons. Just imagine what a kid with a Betan name would suffer at school.

Hospital Earth shouldn’t have let me keep my original first name, but they’d broken the rules in my case. They were up against a Military family tradition that even civilians respect. When one of a Military family dies on active service, the next child born in the family is given their name to honour them. Sometimes, they deliberately have an extra child to carry the name. I’d been the Honour Child for my grandmother. I was a girl, so I was Jarra. A boy would have been Jarrack.

When I turned out to be Handicapped … Well, I suppose my parents must have discussed it. I could imagine the frantic debates. I was the next-born child, so tradition insisted I bore the name. I was Handicapped, so I could never be Military, but of course not every Honour Child becomes Military themselves. They probably did a lot of thinking, but they’d gone ahead with it in the end rather than have a replacement Honour Child later.

I used my lookup to request more information. Military families usually have two or three kids, very close together in age, because that works best for active assignments. I had a brother and sister who were only a year apart in age, but then there was a gap of twelve years before my birth. I checked my grandmother’s details. Yes, she’d died in 2769. I was a deliberately planned Honour Child.

I sat there for a bit. I’d expected to have to make one decision, but now there were two. Did I try to contact my parents? Did I agree to take part in the Honour Ceremony? The second one was much easier, because it only concerned myself and my grandmother. I had no grudge against a Military hero who’d died before I was born, and being Handicapped didn’t change the fact I had a duty to perform. My grandmother wouldn’t be left with just the mandatory plaque on the Military Academy wall. She would have her Honour Ceremony.

I mailed Military Support saying it would be a privilege to take part in the ceremony, and then I went to bed and had the dream where I was JMK again, but it was even more confusing this time. I was on a Military base that looked just like the one in
Defenders
. My parents were with me, and Fian was there too. We were all sitting round a table drinking frujit, and Fian kept talking about aliens.

The next morning, Playdon swapped Fian and I back to our regular roles, and took the class to a new area of the dig site where we found a stasis box. When we got back to the dome, there was the usual suspense as we waited to see what we’d found. Playdon opened it as we stood around. This time it was a child’s toy. A lover of fluffy toys from hundreds of years ago, a twenty-fourth century Issette, had left a green furry object in a stasis box. That wasn’t all they’d left though. There was a recording of a nervous and excited family about to head off to a new world, and there was a real treasure trove. They’d left us an ancient newzie! Not one from the day they left. This was far older, from before Language was adopted as a common tongue. It wasn’t recorded but actually printed on paper.

Playdon used his lookup, while we waited in suspense. ‘This is totally new. It’s from one of the lost years.’

We cheered wildly. We’d found history!

We all watched while Playdon scanned the precious paper pages with slow and painstaking care and put the results through data translation. The scanned images and data were sent off to researchers and all the University data archives for safe keeping. After that was done, the toy, the family recording, and the newzie itself were packed and sent off. With them secure, we could all scan the data on our lookups.

While we ate lunch, we gloated over fragments from the past. Some of it was trivial, a story about one of their vid stars for example, but it was all part of the patchwork quilt of lost information that humanity was rebuilding.

‘What was Formula One?’ asked Dalmora.

‘It’s a report about a land vehicle race,’ Playdon explained.

‘But they went so fast … These speeds can’t be right.’ Krath was doing calculations on his look up. ‘There must have been an error during the translation into Language.’

‘Their vehicles could travel much faster than ours can,’ said Playdon. ‘Speed isn’t a priority for us, because we can portal long distances instantly. They had to travel everywhere on foot or in vehicles, like we do when we go places on the hover sleds. Huge amounts of their resources had to be invested in transport systems, vehicles, tracks, roads, ships, aircraft. It was crippling.’ Playdon gave us his evil look. ‘As it happens, this afternoon we study twentieth century economics.’

I groaned. When they refer to the twentieth century as war, war and bore, its economics is definitely part of the bore.

We were in the middle of the 1930s recession, when Playdon’s lookup bleeped. He frowned and checked it. Stared. Checked it again, looked grazzed, then panicky. ‘Jarra, I have a mail from the Military. Their team will arrive in one hour.’

I was a bit startled too. I’d only given the Military the go ahead last night. Presumably they’d already done the ceremonies for the other Honour Children who had turned 18 on Year Day, and could tidy up unusual cases like mine very quickly.

‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

‘You know how to do this?’ Playdon looked frantically round the all purpose dining room and classroom. ‘We need to clear this place up. I’m sorry we don’t have a more appropriate venue.’

‘Sir, with respect, this is a Military issue training dome. There could be no more appropriate venue for the ceremony. Most of them are held in places like this.’

I realized the rest of the class were listening avidly with fascinated but confused faces. Whatever was going on was a welcome respite from 1930s economics, but they didn’t understand it.

Playdon turned to them, and let them in on the secret. ‘Jarra is a Military Honour Child. She’s 18 and that was the call for the Honour Ceremony.’

The end of his sentence got drowned out by collective class excitement.

‘Amaz!’ said Dalmora. ‘The ceremony comes to the name! We actually get to see …’

‘If only they’d shown up on the dig site this morning,’ wailed Krath. ‘An Honour Ceremony with everyone in impact suits. The flag flying in the middle of ruined New York. We’d have made all the newzies!’

‘They’d surely have sent us back to the dome to do it,’ objected Lolmack.

‘You know the rules,’ Krath argued. ‘The ceremony has to come to the name, wherever they are, whatever they’re doing. Remember that boy who was in prison, and they held the Honour Ceremony in his cell. They’ve held ceremonies in impact suits before too. I remember there was one on a solar power array.’

‘And the one last Year Day,’ Dalmora said with shining eyes. ‘That cadet who’d passed top of his year and won the right to be among the Year Day ceremonial Military at the opening of Parliament. The Honour Guard marched right in to Parliament, and everything stopped in mid-speech, while all the members stood for the Honour Ceremony. It was utterly, utterly zan!’

Yes, I know the Honour Ceremony at the opening of Parliament was probably specially set up for the great publicity, but I agreed with Dalmora. It had still been amaz to watch it.

‘It’s not too late,’ said Krath. ‘If we move fast, we could get out to the dig site before they arrive, and they’d have to come to us. Mind you, the vids wouldn’t show our faces then, so maybe it would be a better plan to …’

‘Quiet!’ yelled Playdon. ‘Let me make one thing absolutely clear. This ceremony is not being used to get anyone on the newzies. I insist on respect during this. Not a word or a squeak out of place from any of you. This is like Remembrance Day but more so. I’m not having any disruption. Understand?’

The class nodded, wide eyed.

‘Understand?’ repeated Playdon, looking pointedly at Krath.

Krath remembered he already had one red warning, gulped, and nodded.

‘Good.’ Playdon looked round. ‘Now, everyone, move! We have to clear the chairs and tables and clean up this room.’

It wasn’t really necessary, but Playdon insisted on hiding the chairs and tables away in peoples’ rooms to make the dining hall look more respectable. I left the others to sort it out, because I wanted to cheat just a little bit by changing clothes. I hadn’t got a uniform to wear, but quite a few Honour Children wouldn’t. I chose trousers and jacket in a suitably Military navy-blue colour, dragged a comb through my hair, studied my reflection in the mirror, and decided that was the best I could do.

I headed back to the dining hall, with a nervous flutter in my stomach. I’d seen plenty of vids of Honour Ceremonies, and I only had a few words to say, so hopefully I’d get them right. Playdon had the class standing lined up in rows with an aisle left free in the middle. It was like people waiting for Remembrance Day service at school. I walked down the aisle to the front of the hall and tried to stay calm.

Playdon checked the time, dashed off to the portal room, then came back into the hall and took his place in line. ‘Class, attention!’

We all came to attention. The class weren’t very good at it, but it was the thought that counted. I watched Krath out of the corner of my eye. If there was so much as one snigger from him, then he wouldn’t have to worry about getting a warning from Playdon afterwards, because I’d personally kill him! Krath might think these ceremonies pompous and funny, but my grandmother had died to give humanity new worlds, and he’d sure as chaos better respect her and all the others like her. Remembrance dates all the way back into pre-history, because some things are worth remembering.

The Honour Guard entered the hall on time to the second. The Military like to do these things right. In the lead was a white-haired man, in dress uniform, with a slim case under his arm. I’d learned enough to understand the uniform insignia. They’d sent a full Colonel! Amaz!

Behind him were his two aides, also in full dress uniform, and between them floated something small and black. The anthem started to play as they came down the aisle. The Colonel stood to one side with me, while the other two stood by the front wall with the small black square floating between them.

The square unfolded itself, unfolded again, and again, until there was the full size flag of humanity floating at the front of the hall. The music changed from anthem to hymn. One of the two aides must be controlling the music, and the other the flag, but they were good. I couldn’t spot a single movement to give it away.

The hymn hit the high note and ended, and the class recognised their cue. In reasonably good unison, we all saluted the flag.

The Colonel marched centre stage and turned to face me. ‘On 12 November 2769 Jarra Tell Morrath died to offer new worlds to humanity.’ He recited an incredibly long list of awards, including the Thetis Military medal, and then paused. ‘For the honour of Jarra Tell Morrath.’

I gave him my best salute. He presented me with the slim black case, with the flag of humanity engraved on the lid. I held it flat out in front of me, like I’d seen in the vids, and spoke my line. I hope my voice didn’t sound shaky. ‘For the name and the honour of Jarra Tell Morrath.’ That was my name now. The Military would have the name change recorded with Registry at this very moment. That’s the sort of detail they do well.

The anthem started playing again; the two aides turned to the flag, and with well practised movements removed the hover tags and folded it. One of them presented the flag to the Colonel, who turned to me and placed it on top of the black case.

A full Military Colonel, his two aides, and a pre-history class of norms all saluted an ape girl. The aides might not have known what I was, but the Colonel must have done. Still, I couldn’t detect a single flicker of distaste in his eyes. Of course, he wasn’t saluting me, none of them were. They were saluting my grandmother. I was just standing there as a symbol of the honour of the Military being passed on down through the generations.

I know this symbolic stuff is all hopelessly soppy, but like most things there is a point to it. The Military have control of all the weapons of humanity to stop us fighting each other. The Military have control of all the solar power arrays in space. The only things stopping the Military overthrowing the government and ordering us all around are those silly idealistic things: Honour. Trust. Loyalty. All the soppy stuff out of the publicity vids.

Everyone held the salute until the last note of the hymn ended and the ceremony was over, then they relaxed. I expected the Military to just march off, but the Colonel paused for a quick chat while his aides collected the vid bee that had been hovering recording the ceremony for the Military archives.