Ceremony

by Joseph H. Ficor

After leaving the elevator, Stotter and Shouhei went to the Governor’s quarters.

The Governor listened to the story told by Stotter—with Shouhei’s attempted execution omitted. After Stotter finished, the bulk of the Governor lifted from behind his desk. He smiled. “Fiko, my boy. You are a credit to the Corps—and especially to me. Now go and see the medics for your shoulder and get some rest. The Major and I have some business to discuss.”

Shouhei got his shoulder fixed and returned to his room and collapsed on his bed. He slept for twelve hours.

He was awakened by a knock on his door. He straightened his uniform as best as he could. Enforcer Second Class Yuri Jao stood at the door.

He was scowling more than usual. This scared Shouhei because Jao was one of the most vocal in his contempt for Shouhei.

“Come on,” Jao shouted. “We need to hurry. You don’t want to miss the ceremony.”

“Excuse me?” Shouhei was still half-asleep and bewildered by Jao’s sudden appearance. “What ceremony?”

Jao sneered. “Your award ceremony.”

#

Shouhei and Jao entered the large auditorium on the fifteenth level. The auditorium was large—three hundred seats. It was usually for live entertainment like plays or—as in this case—pomp and ceremony.

The seats were full of the elites of Carleston’s Cove and Sheba. The Governor’s entire security attachment had been assembled also. The Peacekeepers and Enforcers stood in two neat lines down the aisle leading to the main stage.

Shouhei stood confused and dumbfounded. Jao indicated for Shouhei to go to the main stage by jabbing him in the back.

As Shouhei walked down the aisle, the Enforcers and Peacekeepers saluted him as he passed. The young Enforcer searched for signs of genuine respect in the faces of his comrades, uncertain if he saw any. Peacekeeper Second Level Stalinsky—one of the Peacekeepers who had been standing in the front of the Governor’s office when he first reported for duty—smiled as he passed.

On the main stage were the Governor and Major Stotter.

Shouhei stepped onto the main stage and stood before them.

The Governor grinned, showing all of his teeth. Stotter remained utterly stoic and unreadable. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the hero who not only stopped the piracy of Artimus Rawlings, but also the assassin Jing Laforsé. We are greatly indebted to you Enforcer Fiko.”

Applause thundered in the auditorium. Apparently genuine.

Governor Bokkasa waited for a few minutes before putting his hand up as a signal for the applause to stop so that he could continue. “So it is with great honor that I bestow upon you the silver Avenir for bravery. Congratulations.”

Applause broke forth again as the silver award, in the shape of Avenir Station, was pinned just above Shouhei’s left breast pocket. Shouhei felt his pulse pound at the honor of getting the award. But he couldn’t help but wonder if this was another of the Governor’s little games.

After the applause died down, Bokkasa broke into a long and dry speech entailing duty and honor. Shouhei hardly heard a word. Fear gripped him as he looked at the icy cold face of Stotter. The Major’s words in the docking bay resounded in his mind: “…on Carlston’s Cove: Your life span is equal to your usefulness.”

Shouhei silently—and desperately—prayed for future courage and divine protection. 

Saved

by Joseph H. Ficor

Stotter stood shocked. Shouhei’s shot came close, but missed. Stotter fired his own weapon. He hit Fiko in the left shoulder. His sudden surprise at the Governor’s prize puppy suddenly turning aggressive ruined his aim.

Shouhei had collapsed on the ground. He was holding his bleeding shoulder.

An eternity passed before Stotter heard the thud behind him.

Stotter turned to see who had been Shouhei’s true target.

There was not much left of the face, but the slim body and the curved, saw toothed knife in the corpse’s right hand was enough to identify him. Jing Laforsé. Even more wanted than the smuggler. He was a professional hitman who favored stealth and his knife to any sort of firearm. He sometimes traveled with Rawlings on runs.

Stotter’s hard exterior returned. He kicked at Shouhei. He held his pistol at the young Enforcer’s head. But he could not bring himself to pull the trigger. He lowered his weapon.

“Get up Fiko!”

Shouhei obeyed and the two walked past the corpses to the elevator.

The only speech in the elevator was Stotter using his communicator to request a clean-up crew to come and collect the bodies.

Standdown

by Joseph H. Ficor

The trio stepped off the elevator and looked at the motley array of ships. It was a collection of all shapes and sizes.

Shouhei’s heart leapt in joy at the sight of so many spacefaring beauties. How he greatly desired to step aboard one and fly among the blackness. He made sure that his emotion did not show on his face.

“Look for a ship that looks like a long, gray needle.” Major Stotter added, “Deadly force is authorized if you deem it necessary.”

Everyone unholstered his pistol. Shouhei fought to suppress a smile at the sight of sweat beading on Hicks’s brow. He never thought that he would see the day when Hicks would be silent.

The ship in question was found within a few minutes. Stotter motioned Hicks and Shouhei to take up positions around the ship while he covered the main hatch.

“Artimus Rawlings,” Stotter called out. “Come out and surrender peacefully. You are under arrest for delinquent docking fee payments and suspicion of ore smuggling. If you just come with us quietly, I assure you that this matter will be cleared up very easily.”

A bullet narrowly missed Stotter’s head. Stotter dived behind a stack of nearby ore containers before Rawlings fired another shot.

Shouhei followed his superior’s example. He took up a position behind the control panel of a loading crane.

More shots were fired.

Hicks was not so fast. He was lying on the deck, his head surrounded by a steadily growing crimson puddle.

Stotter feigned rage. “Rawlings! I’m going to deep space you for that!”

“Shut up Stotter,” Rawlings screamed back. “You have as much feeling for your men as a whale has for its dung.”

Stotter and Rawlings exchanged verbal barbs—and occasionally shots.

Shouhei caught sight of the suspect. He was sheltered behind a landing strut of another ship. The strut’s cover provided excellent protection against Stotter’s pistol.

Shouhei fired some rounds that startled Rawlings more than anything else.

He returned fire.

Shouhei ducked as the rounds sounded on the control panel in front of him.

Shouhei got back up to return fire, but he could not see Rawlings.

The hot barrel touching his temple alerted him to Rawling’s new location.

“I’m going to send you into early retirement, Enforcer.”

“Rawlings,” Stotter shouting as he pointed the pistol at Rawlings. “Stand down!”

Rawlings turned his head. “Or wha…”

Shouhei took quick action and shot Rawlings in the left knee. Then he hit Rawlings in the jaw with his pistol. Rawlings fell to the deck. He was out cold.

Stotter rushed over. “Are you okay, boy?”

“Yessir,” Shouhei responded.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Stotter demanded.

“I don’t know, Sir.” Shouhei responded as he looked down at Hick’s dead body. “It just didn’t seem right. I know that he had killed one of our own, but I couldn’t do it, Sir. I’m sorry.”

Stotter pointed his pistol at the back of Shouhei’s head. “Me too.”

Wake Up Call

by Joseph H. Ficor

Shouhei struggled to stay awake in the elevator as it traveled to the docking bays of Carlston's Cove.

The loud voice—and hands—of Enforcer Second Class Damon Hicks forced him out of his rack only twenty minutes before.

The young Enforcer had just fallen asleep after serving a fourteen hour shift when Hick stormed into Shouhei's quarters. Hicks ordered him to get back into uniform and to bring his sidearm. Peacekeeper Major Mao Stotter, commander of the Governor’s personal security detachment, had personally ordered Hicks and Shouhei to accompany him on an assignment. They were to apprehend a star pilot named Artimus Rawlings.

Rawlings had not paid his station docking fees for several months. He was also suspected of smuggling large amounts of ore from Sheba. Shouhei had heard his name thrown around by the veterans of the security detachment. Rawlings had earned the nickname of “Bakemono.” It was an old Earth word for ghost. He was the given the moniker because he had always managed to avoid being tracked down by the authorities. That is, until now.

“Fiko! Wake up!” Hicks’s booming voice—and sharp slap on the back—jolted Shouhei back into conscious focus.

Even the granite face of the Major winced at the high volume in the small space of the elevator. Shouhei had the feeling that Hicks was more hated by the other members of the detachment than himself.

The elevator stopped, the display showed Docking Bay Five, and the doors opened.

Hick's hand made contact again. “Showtime, Prize Puppy.”

Shouhei swallowed hard and followed the Major and Hicks into the wide space of the docking bay.

Governor’s Decree

by Joseph H. Ficor -

Peacekeeper Major Stotter, head of Governor Bokkasa’s personal security detachment, stood at parade rest before the great black desk of the Governor.

“Thank you for coming as such a late hour, Major. I know that you had just finished your duty shift about an hour ago—around two am?”

“Yessir, I did,” replied Stotter. “You said that you wanted to discuss your pet, Enforcer Fiko.”

“Yes.” Governor Bokkasa leaned back in his chair. “I’m bored with him. The excitement of my charity is waning. I want you to take him and have him do some real work.”

“Forgive my bluntness sir, but wouldn’t it look bad for you to throw him away so easily after only one month? I’ve heard of officials planning to visit Eclectia to find even lower scum than Fiko. They want to outdo you.”

“Let them.” Bokassa waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll always be remembered as the first to have lifted a coffee ground to the level of cream.”

Stotter’s face remained expressionless. The Governor’s attempts at creative witticisms always fell short of their mark. “What do you have in mind, sir?”

The Governor immediately brought himself back to the main topic. “I want you to take Enforcer Fiko and some other expendable on a collection run to Docking Bay Five. Dear Artimus hasn’t paid his station tax in four months.”

Stotter’s expression cracked. A smirked formed across his lips. “Artimus Rawlings is a difficult man to find. He usually manages to avoid our Enforcers. We can only collect when he is overpowered and his cargo confiscated. And he said that the next time we came…”

Bokassa finished the sentence: “…to collect, he’d kill our Enforcers. I know. I know. My sources have confirmed that he is now at a Docking Bay Five. He won’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. Besides, this run will be an excellent opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Easy. Rawlings has outlived his usefulness. He never realized that the ore that he has been smuggling out of here was my way of making a little extra profit without concerning the aristocrats on Avenir. They have enough wealth. I thought that it was time for them to share a bit more of it with us. Now Artimus needs to be eliminated.”

“And Fiko is the second bird?”

“Exactly. He has outlived his usefulness. It is time for him to go out in a blaze of glory. I’ve proven my charity. He can serve as some kind of example of hope for the dustbugs on Eclectia.”

“I’ll see to it, sir.”

“Thank you, Major. Please send Enforcer Second Class Hicks as the second expendable. He’s annoying me.”

“Yes sir. Good night, sir.”

“Yes, yes. Good night, Major.”

Stotter thought to himself after he left the Governor’s quarters. “A very unusual execution decree. And a triple besides. Very original.”

Stotter went to his quarters for a good night’s sleep.

Prize Puppy

by Joseph H. Ficor -

The Governor gave Shouhei many trivial errands to run, mostly taking things to the other aristocrats of Carlston's Cove. Everyone praised Shouhei for being so favored by the Governor. The young man's discipline was pushed to its maximum tolerances every time he heard a greater-than-thou exclaim “Here is the symbol of Bokassa's benevolence” or “Here is the epitome of rich charity.”

The other members of the security detachment chose to call him the “prize puppy.”

His “cuteness” began wearing off after a month on board the station. The Governor and other higher ups started showing disdain and boredom when he came around on official business.

Fear seized him when an Enforcer Second Class shouted at him as he passed a guard station on the Governor’s level, “Hey, prize puppy! You're going to play with the big dogs soon.”

His soul forecasted ill times ahead.

Charity

by Joseph H. Ficor -

The Enforcer at the checkpoint, just off the elevator, at Upper Level Six smiled after he cleared Shouhei for entry.

“We’ve been expecting you.” He said while maintaining that ominous smile.

Shouhei just said, “Thank you,” as he passed the still-smiling Enforcer.

The orders that had been printed out at the checkpoint stated that he was to proceed to Stateroom 14. He was there in five minutes.

Two guards, both Peacekeeper Level Twos, stood on either side of the door leading into the stateroom. They wore immaculate navy blue uniforms with white berets and broad white sashes extending from their left shoulders to their right waists.

Shouhei saluted and the salute was returned. The PKL2 on Shouhei’s right inserted Shouhei’s ID card into a portable reader. He showed it to the other PKL2 who just grunted and mumbled something about Shouhei being the one.

The ID card was returned to Shouhei. The door opened and Shouhei entered a large office with white walls and red carpeting. Many abstract paintings hung neatly on the wall. A large luxurious desk made of smoothed Zirconian black coral stood four meters in front of the young Enforcer.

A large man with skin as dark as the desk and wearing a robe of bright orange and red came from behind the desk and greeted Shouhei.

“Welcome,” the man bellowed, “Enforcer Third Class Fiko! I have been looking forward to meeting you for a few months now.”

Shouhei’s training brought him back to his place. He straightened and saluted, but his face betrayed his confusion at the Governor’s greeting.

The Governor just smiled. “My boy, I can see that you do not understand that I’m your benefactor.”

Shouhei’s face betrayed more confusion.

“I am your sponsor. I chose you from the dregs of Adagio to become an Enforcer. You are my act of charity.”

“I’m sorry sir. But I don’t understand. I thought that I was accepted because of my scores on the entrance exam.”

“Don’t be silly,” the Governor said, and laughed. “The test was just a formality. You were already in by my word. You see, I had a small wager with some of the members of my club that I could choose anyone from that waste on Eclectia and sponsor him through the Enforcers. They doubted me, but you proved them wrong…”

Each of Governor’s words was like the beating of a hammer driving a spike into Shouhei’s heart.

“…and my boy, you paid handsomely—two platinums. So I’ve decided as a special reward to make you a member of my personal security detachment. What do you think about that?”

Professionalism—and his faith—prevented him from expressing the words.

Promotion

by Joseph H. Ficor -

Shouhei exited the shuttle. Sheba’s orbital spaceport, Carlston’s Cove, handled all incoming and outgoing traffic. Most of the station’s space was devoted to shipping the precious ore mined from Sheba to Avenir and Eclectia. The upper levels of the station housed exact copies of the luxurious staterooms of Avenir. Here, the masters of Sheba relished in the wealth that the broken world brought them.

Shouhei mentally prepared himself for a life of policing the mining settlements on the surface. He had not told his parents about his assignment to Sheba. Fear and humiliation restrained him. His folks were so proud that he had been accepted into the Enforcers. It was a rare chance to leave the dust of Adagio for a better life. Sheba was not a better life.

The Enforcer at the custom checkpoint smiled when he saw Shouhei. He looked for a moment at the crisp new uniform of the “shiny.”

“Welcome to the dump of the system,” he said with that irritating smile. “You must have pulled someone’s chain the wrong way to be sent here.”

Shouhei said nothing. He gave the cynic his ID card.

Cynic inserted the card into a slot in his terminal.

The cynic’s smile melted into a scowl as he read the screen.

He pulled the card from the computer and thrust it and a station map at Shouhei.

“Follow the map to Upper Level Six.”

“What?” Shouhei just stood dumbfounded. I’m not going to the surface? Why?

“Upper Level Six, Shiny!” Cynic shouted.

Shouhei’s confusion blazed like the exposed interior of the world below.

Cynic clarified, “You’ve been assigned to Governor Bokkasa’s personal security detachment. Now move along! Next!”

Shouhei moved along.

Thanksgiving

by Joseph H. Ficor -


The trip from Avenir to Sheba was uneventful. Shouhei sulked in his cabin. The dream of serving on a security cruiser in the Space Service was dead. He just knew that the rest of his time with the Enforcers would be spent breaking up payday saloon brawls between miners on that cracked rock.

A memory came to his mind. He was around fourteen and he had failed an opportunity to be part of the soccer club sponsored by the Countess Barslow Memorial Charity. Anger and juvenile despair had a stranglehold on his heart. His mother told him about an old saying that people should give thanks to God in all situations, especially the bad ones. She said that people needed to release their pains and disappointments to Him. This gave the Big Man an opportunity to make the situation right. The advice and resulting prayer of thanksgiving lifted his heart.

Shouhei gave a prayer of thanks for his current disappointment.

The peace that followed relieved his mind and spirit.

Assignment

by Joseph H. Ficor -

After the graduation ceremony, Enforcer First Class Shouhei Fiko went away from his classmates clutching the small gray envelope.

He had refused to open it until after the ceremony. His classmates had opened their assignment orders as soon as they received them. Shouhei was afraid that he would jinx his chances if he opened the envelope early. His apprehension eased a little after making the decision to wait.

The night before graduation was spent praying—and pleading—for his desired assignment. He even forsook the traditional congratulatory beetle steak breakfast given to graduates on the morning of the ceremony.

He wanted to join the space division. To be among the emptiness and infinity of space was heaven compared to the dust and heat of Adagio. He loved his family deeply, but he desired to fly in the dark coolness of space. He wanted to feel a closeness to sky from which his ancestors had descended. He desired release from the family’s Eclectian prison.

A millennium of time passed before he made the final tear in the envelope.

He removed the paper and unfolded it carefully.

His dream crashed like a beetle that had been struck in the underside by a meat hunter’s bullet.

His destination was Sheba.

Graduation

Joseph H. Ficor -

Shouhei Fiko stood proud with the other recruits in their crisp gray uniforms. There were twenty-four in his graduating class. The last six weeks had been a nightmare, but this moment made all of the sweat—and blood—worth it. Soon, he would receive the single chevron that marked his transition from Enforcer Recruit to Enforcer First Class.

Enforcer Command Chief Romero stood in front of the recruits. “Recruit Platoon 74R. Attention!”

All boots clicked together as one. They were a well oiled machine. Romero had seen to that. These were the successful candidates who had excelled where thirty-six of their comrades had washed out. Shouhei was proud to be among the ones who had finished. His parents would have been proud, but they could not make the ceremony. They could not afford the trip from Adagio to Avenir. He knew that they were here in spirit.

Peacekeeper Colonel Pietrov personally pinned the chevrons on each recruit.

After all of the chevrons had been given, Shouhei joined the others in reciting the creed of the Avenir Peacekeeper Corps:

“We swear by the honor and blood of the Founders
That we will faithfully execute our duties
As Enforcers of the just and righteous laws of Avenir.

We will carry out our duties with honesty and honor.
Deceit and greed will be far from us.
Death before the dishonoring of the Corps.

On our honor and that of our forefathers, we swear.”

Romero then turned to the former recruits. “Recruit Platoon 74R, Dismissed!”

The voices—and caps—of the recruits rocketed to the ceiling of the assembly hall.