Garrick and Brenna, who have argued strenuously and strained their realtionship, meet Garrick's new commanding officer for the first time.

    An hour after Garrick reported for duty, Sergeant Krebes marched into the latrine, not bothering to stomp the dirty snow off his boots before entering and thus, ruining the spotless appearance of floor tile the young Tamarian had labored to achieve. "The lieutenant needs to see you," the sergeant said, inspecting Garrick's work with satisfaction but offering no word of appreciation. "Secure the scrub gear and report immediately."

    "Master Sergeant, sir! May I have permission to wash up?"

    Sergeant Krebes appraised the boy, noting his sweat-drenched undershirt and pants spattered with soap stains and smears of rust from the oxidized bolts that held neat rows of multrum toilets in place on the tile. Few soldiers bothered to get on their knees to clean the floor around the toilets, but this one had done so without being told he had to do it. Such evidence of pride in a menial job impressed the sergeant favorably. "You have ten minutes, Ravenwood. Don't keep the lieutenant waiting."

    "Yes sir. Thank-you, sir."

    When Garrick stepped into Lieutenant Kohler's small, plastered straw office, he felt grateful that the sergeant had let him clean up first. Heated by a clanging, geothermal steam radiator, the insulating properties of its bale walls gave the room a warmth that soon became uncomfortable, even with a single, east-facing window open to the blustery chill outside.

    Garrick's heart fluttered uncontrollably when his eyes rested on Brenna's lovely face, catching there a curious glimpse of expression that blended sadness with terror. He saw that some fool had dressed her in a form-fitting winter combat uniform a bit small for her size--a detail too conspicuous to have been accidental. The heat inside Kohler's office had, no doubt, motivated the girl to remove her parka, which she had draped over her chair, providing the young lieutenant with ample opportunity to let his eyes linger lecherously upon her bosom.

    Annoyed, Garrick clicked his heels together and saluted smartly. "Private Ravenwood reporting as ordered, sir!"

    Lieutenant Kohler moved his gaze from its pleasant fixation and brought it to rest on a file folder whose contents Garrick could not read from where he stood. "At ease, soldier. I hear you speak Southern Vulgate."

    "That's correct, sir."

    Kohler appraised Garrick with a smirk. "Never bothered with it myself, seeing as I had no motivation to learn." He smiled, leering in Brenna's direction again.

    "But since this pretty little thing will be staying with us for awhile, I just might change my mind. She marched in here, wrote your name down, and we've been having a real party for a good thirty minutes, waiting for you to get here, soldier. Translate for me. What does she want?"

    Garrick faced Brenna, afraid to find anger in her eyes, not sure what to think when he didn't see any there. "Why did you call me in here?" he asked, trying to speak without stumbling over every word and not attaining the level of success he wished to achieve.

    "I need to talk to you alone," the girl replied. "You were right. I should have known I could trust you and I'm sorry I questioned your honor. If you hate me, I'll understand, but please, find it in your heart to forgive."

    A quick glance in the lieutenant's direction caused Garrick's heart to race. "I can't believe you're doing this to me," he told her in the most straightforward, matter-of-fact tone of voice he could muster under the circumstances. "This is the first time I've ever seen my new commanding officer, and he thinks you need me to translate for him."

    "Well, think of something to say!"

    Her command sounded easy, but Garrick had to pause for a moment before he came up with an idea. "It's the uniform, sir," he began. "She says it violates every tenant of decency and modesty she learned from her saintly mother. Also, she respectfully requests that you stop staring at her soft parts, sir!"

    A flush of embarrassment raced across the young lieutenant's face, and he stammered like a child caught stealing. Kohler fumbled through the papers on his desk and reached for a quill. "Get over to the commissary and find her whatever she wants. Make it quick, soldier. We're moving out before nightfall!"

Justice Without Mercy