Postal Marine 1: Bellicose (4 page)

The video markings indicated privacy, which gave Bophendze use of a private room to view it. The clerk directed him to a decent sized room and efficiently briefed him on procedure.

Alone for the first time in over a year, Bophendze just sat for several beats. The only place he had found similar solitude was the head, and somebody invariably banged on the door to hurry him along. Eventually, Bophendze cracked open the pouch. Inside was the self-contained video case, an envelope and a small cardboard box wrapped in an assortment of clothes and personal mementos. He sat down and started the video.

Danel, I'm
Mapen Burkat
, attorney for your mother's estate. Rather, I'm her family's attorney. As such, I have the unfortunate duty to handle her estate, such as it is. You would not remember me, but I met you when you were a young boy. We received word of her death only recently, or I would have had this package sent to you sooner.

Danel watched as Mapen picked up a slate and cleared his voice. Mapen then spoke with a more formal and somber tone.

As your mother sought to humiliate her family, no stipend was provided to her, or passes to you. Our understanding is you have found suitable employment commensurate with
your
station. That is satisfactory to us.

Bophendze realized it came from his mother's family. What Mapen read came from a grandfather who never showed Bophendze the slightest affection or notice.
I never understood what she did that led to this.

In the small box you will find all of your mother's personal effects, both from her own collection on
Korundanoi
System, but also items belonging to her from
Sabana
System. The contents of that box contains all of her accumulated realty and personalty, minus taxes and attorney's fees.

A wealthy family. I'm barely employed as a marine, and they chose to let her estate be taxed and feed without thought of helping out.

Mapan set down the slate.

On a personal note: despite your mother's rebellious nature, she was a fine woman. But for your father, things would have turned out much better for you. I was horrified to learn of your loss and offer you my best wishes. Despite your grandfather's express wishes, I've waived attorney's fees and placed a credit chit in the box out of my personal esteem for your mother. May providence guide you.

The video faded out, returning Bophendze to the solitude of the small, private room. The silence overwhelmed him for a moment, reminding him of how alone he really was. It was nearly unbearable.
The accumulated accomplishments of my mother's entire life are in this room right now. The attorney even paid out the value of his esteem for her.
He reached out with his hands. The room was a little over two meters square. A life's accomplishments in under 8 cubic meters.

Bophendze opened the cardboard box. Inside was a mixed collection of jewelry, a slate and a small jewel case. He opened the jewel case and saw a perfectly smooth, silvery sphere. He had never seen his mother wear any jewelry apart from her wedding ring. As he inspected the pouch, the ring was missing.
The family took it to erase memory of her marriage? They gave me this so they could blot me out, too? Why can't I blot out the last time I saw her?

\pbreak

“Ma'am, visiting hours are over. You need your rest.”

The Nurse's smile suggested compassion, but was just as likely required by policy. Either way, it failed to comfort Danel.

Danel's mother nodded, each motion another battle in a lost war. Thousands of years of medical science could not stop an immune system on hyperdrive. She turned her head carefully to look at him.

“You had better go. Come and see me tomorrow.”

He looked at her through his tears. “I can't, Mom. I can't leave. What if you're not here tomorrow?” He buried his head in the hospital blanket.

She ran her shaking hand through his hair. “You're a young man now. You need a haircut before somebody thinks you're a girl.” She chuckled, “a girl with a very deep voice. You have very lovely hair.”

Her hand grasped a shock of his hair. Danel's eyes went wide as she jerked his head up. He chose not to struggle, not sure if it would be too much on her.

“You're still a frail boy. How will you survive as an orphan? I've fought my last battle. By Providence, I won't be here tomorrow. I can feel the end now. But, you should not remember me this way. I fought the best I could for you, but the fight is over.” Despite her frailty, her voice retained the dignity of her heritage and her personal tenacity. It was unwavering.

He cried harder, filling the room with his sobs. She let go of his hair. Bophendze pulled back into his seat.

“Stop that blubbering at once. You get that under control. It's time for you to leave. It's time for me to say good-bye.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” It took effort, but he finally stopped his tears. He wiped his eyes and looked at her.

She smiled slightly. “Much better. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I cannot be there for you any more. I can't pick you up when you fall, or teach you more about how the world works. I made mistakes in my life, Danel. Those mistakes are taking me from you prematurely. Unfortunately, you are going to be the one to bear the burden of my mistakes.

“I need you to promise me you will make something of yourself. Whatever your father turned out to be, my family line has generations of men and women of substance. I'm sorry they won't accept you because of your father. Looking back that was my deepest regret.”

Her already pale face blanched in realization. “My only solace in that regret is you. Help me rest in peace. Tell me you will not go the way of your father. Instead, let Providence guide you and honor my family by becoming somebody.”

He recoiled at her command. “When they refused to honor you? Take you in? Had they done that, you wouldn't be dying now.”

Her face remained steadfast. “That's not their fault. They did as those in their society do. I knew that when I fell in love with your father. I thought I knew the cost, but youth fails to properly assess the impact of passion. Promise me.”

“Not because of them, but because of you. Mom, I promise to make something of myself, to be the best.”

“Good. The best. That's all I ask. Thank you. Good night. Good-bye.”

He turned as he stood. He slowly walked to the door. As he rested his hand on the door frame, he looked back. His mother,
Maranatha Bophendze
, a ghost of her former self lay across the room.

She smiled faintly and waved her trembling hand. He was too young to tell if it was from weakness, sadness or fear. She never showed fear. He left the room and struggled down the hallway. He never saw her again.

By Providence, I will become somebody.

\pbreak

The recollection reduced Bophendze to tears. He cried for several beats in the small room. After he composed himself, he went through the pouch a second time. He laid out each item separately on the table. “How am I going to fit all this in my locker on the
Spaka
?” he said to nobody.

The jewelry is small enough to take with me. But, I'll never wear jewelry like this. If I take it with me then it might eventually be stolen. Probably better if I sold it. As least a quid chit requires a passcode.

I can take the slate. It needs a new battery, but might have some letters or something. There's got to be a reason why she gave it to me.

The rest of her personal items just don't mean anything to me.
He sifted through the items wondering why they meant nothing to him. They had meant something to his mother, so he felt a he should, too.
This was all she had in the world, including him, in this room. Should her life have accounted for so little?

But she did not create any of this, just me. I don't think she expects me to keep all this. This is just some lawyer doing his duty. Based on his message, he probably pulled out all the good stuff for her family. What good is a rich family if they won't help you when you need them, and when you're gone they rob your estate?

The lifelong resentment he felt toward her family deepened ever closer to hate. Just because she violated their code of honor. She got pregnant with a commoner and decided she would rather marry him than redeem their honor by purging him. The only consolation her family ever gave was to pay for them to move to a new system and give a small sum to get re-established. That his father had no concept for proper money management was not his mother's fault.

Once the funds were spent and Bophendze was weaning, his father returned to
Sabana
to join in a local revolution. He never sent a message after leaving, so Bophendze's mother always told him his father died fighting. “So you should fight for everything. Don't just take things lying down,” she always said when retelling the story of his father's departure. His mother always tried to paint his father as a hero.

The real fight was here, Dad. Coward.

His anger did nothing to finish sorting through the belongings, however. The longer he stared at them, the more he realized the slate and valuables were all he cared for. His mother would have chided him for feeling guilty over leaving behind useless things.

His conviction finally solidified. He put the slate into his bag along with the jewelry. Everything else he put back into the pouch. He inspected the room to see if he had left anything behind. He then took a few moments to straighten himself up. He wiped his eyes to remove the stray tears that held on.

Satisfied, he picked up the box and left the room. He walked down the passage and passed the clerk's desk.
I can't just throw this away.
He turned and walked back to the clerk's desk.

“Is there somewhere I can donate what's in here?” he said as he lifted the pouch briefly.

“You can't leave it here.”

“I don't want to leave it here. I want to donate it.”

“If you go to the mezzanine level there's a donation station.”

“Thanks.”

As Bophendze walked to the mezzanine level, the smallness of the station made him feel claustrophobic. He preferred the openness of being planetside.
Why would anybody want to be in space when they could be on firm ground?

He saw the donation point as soon as he arrived on the mezzanine level. The level was actually three levels of shops, all declaring themselves to be duty free. He checked the time. He had another cycle before he needed to be back to the hangar. After dropping the pouch off, he decided to stroll through the various shops.
How can they justify these prices when the cost to leave the surface is just as steep?
Bophendze could not make sense of the orbital's economy, despite its obvious thriving.

On the second level, he saw the pawn shop. “
House of Langobartz
,” the sign said. The logo comprised a three gold circles shaped like points of an inverted triangle inside a larger black circle.

He walked into the shop, finding a relatively large space packed with assorted items. No other word came to him to describe what he saw other than “stuff.” The space was stuffed with stuff.

The shop clerk was at the front lurking behind shelves, as if defending the store from passers by.

“I've got some stuff to sell. Do you only loan money, or do you also buy?”

“Depends on what you're selling.”

Bophendze walked toward the back of the store where the counter was, the clerk close behind. He opened his bag and laid his mother's jewelry on the counter. The clerk feigned disinterest. After his bag was empty, Bophendze started sorting the necklaces and other pieces. He picked up the small box that contained the sphere and opened it, and presented it to the clerk.

“How much do you want for all of it?” the clerk opened.

“More than what you're going to tell me they're worth. Maybe we should go piece by piece to find a fair price for both of us? I'm not hard up for money, but I don't want to go lugging around a bunch of bauble needlessly.”

“Fine. I'm Nick.” Nick offered his hand.

Danel suspected the handshake was the pawn broker's attempt at some kind of confidence game. He refused to shake.

The clerk looked a little offended by the refusal.

“Let's just get down to business. How about this one odd piece?” Bophendze picked the small sphere out of the box. It weighed less than he expected it should. It could plastic clad in silver. He figured it was probably a hunk of an odd alloy, so it would give him a good idea of how negotiations would go.

Nick lifted his hand to stop Bophendze before he could hand the sphere over. “Let's not talk about that item at all.”

“Why not?”

“This system does not accept the transfer of implants. So, you are not offering me this item. Understand?”

Bophendze was startled by how suspicious Nick became. “No. I don't, actually.”

Nick looked over Bophendze's shoulder, scanning the mezzanine beyond. He then stared at Bophendze for a long moment. Bophendze did his best to return the gaze, but he began to feel increasingly uncomfortable.

Nick leaned over. “You're a marine. You should know this. That is an implant. They're illegal on my planet. I don't care if it's a ‘
Mr. Stud Sex Implant
,’ or an advanced AI. If you were to try to sell that to me on my world then both of us go to prison. This is an Imperial station, so it's not exactly illegal. Unless it's AI, they're banned throughout the Imperium. Either way, I don't handle that sort of merchandise because it doesn't sell very well down below. Too much heat. The government could pull my license, even if they couldn't prosecute because I'm on an Imperial station. Last thing I want is to be stuck on this station for the rest of my life.”

It took Bophendze a moment to absorb what Nick said. “It's a perfectly round sphere. I mean, it's probably just a bit of alloy my mother kept since she was a girl. How can you tell it's an implant without even holding it?”

“It's my business to understand merchandise, My Friend. You could take that to an implant surgeon if you want to prove me right.” Nick shook his head. “It's not the sphere that tells me it's an implant, you idiot. It's the box.”