Glory Main by Henry V. O'Neil

that we don’t get excited about silly name-­calling. But as insults go, that one’s not that bad at all and it reminds us of our origin. God’s call isn’t a shout, it’s a whisper.” He raised himself up on an elbow. “And a wisp can be a very important thing, if you think about it. A wisp of smoke, for example. You ever had to fight a shipboard fire, Corporal?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œI only fought one. Pulling mid-­deck watch, smelled smoke. Sensors went off right after that, and of course the hatches all sealed automatically, so it was just a few of us against this wall of flame.” His voice trailed off.
    â€œSo tell me. Did you get down and pray, or did you fight that thing alongside the others?”
    â€œYou can pray and fight at the same time, Corporal. Especially if you learn how before things get rough. It’s important to have a philosophy of life . . . and of death.”
    â€œWell I’m an orphan, so nobody ever bothered to give me one of those. Guess I was robbed, huh?”
    â€œYou can’t be robbed of something you never had. Even less of something you gave away.”
    Trent’s voice rose from the shadows. “You’re an orphan?”
    â€œYes. I was born on Celestia. Escaped from the orphanage just before they would have sent me to the mines. Did you know that on Celestia the word for orphan is the same as the word for slave? It’s true. So I ran off when I was probably ten.”
    â€œProbably?”
    â€œYour guess is as good as mine. They don’t keep very accurate records on the slaves.”
    Mortas turned away from watching the surface. “How old are you now?”
    â€œAt Scout Basic they ran a whole bunch of tests on us and one doctor said I was fifteen. That was five years ago.”
    â€œAmazing. How long were you in the ser­vice before you went to the Spartacans?”
    â€œI wasn’t. Like I said, I was fifteen when they caught me and handed me off to the Force. Cleaned out this entire slum of every runaway, piled us into these massive corrugated boxes, and next stop was Scout Basic.”
    â€œI thought the Spartacans were all volunteers.”
    â€œDon’t know who Spartacus was, Lieutenant? Don’t worry, nobody seems to. He was a slave of the Romans, led a revolt and ended up getting executed for it. That’s one of the first stories they tell you at Scout Basic. Not that they needed to.”
    â€œNeeded to what?”
    â€œTell us a scary story to keep us in line.” Cranther’s voice became thin, bled of emotion. “They left us in that box for hours, no food, no water, no toilets. I swear they waited until the fights started before they opened this one hatch. Five or six guys in those massive armored suits came walking in, all of ’em holding these big shock-­sticks. Man, did those things have a jolt.
    â€œThey started at one end of the box and just worked their way through, shocking the heck out of every one of us. We attacked them, of course, but that was a waste of time because of the armor. How they knew who hadn’t been jolted I will never figure out. I pushed this one kid in front of me, got around behind them while they were letting him have it, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor screaming, all my muscles going berserk and my insides feeling like they were being ground up.
    â€œAnd then they just walked out. Left us there in this pile of shit and piss and vomit and bodies, half my muscles didn’t work for I don’t know how long.”
    â€œWhy’d they do that?”
    â€œEvery Spartacan’s got a different opinion, but I go with how I felt right at that moment. Completely helpless. I think that’s why they did it. To let us know we were totally in their power, that they could do whatever they wanted. I swear, lying there thinking of what they might decide to do next was worse than anything they did