This starts about a week after Cyndal hires Avery. They are back as the camp where Cyndal's platoon is headquartered, and where they patrol from. The platoon has had a few days to rest and resupply and now is heading out for a patrol.
The next morning, Cyndal lead her troop out. As a fourteen year old non-combatant Avery was assigned to stay behind and see to the wounded, and some supply issues. Just before lunch, she was intercepted by the General’s Aid as she left the supply tent, having dropped off a list.
“You are Avery, Lt. Cyndal’s Orderly?”
“Yes, I am” Avery responded. “Sir.”
He smiled. “As a civilian you don’t need to call me ‘sir’, or anybody else, except Lt. Cyndal. The General has asked to see you. Do you have time?”
“I was just going to eat. But that can wait.”
“Good. Come along then.”
This man was higher in rank than Cyndal, but not a great deal older, and very friendly. However, he kept quiet the rest of the time, except for introducing Avery to the General.
“Come in, and sit down, young lady. I have some questions for you.”
Avery did as bidden.
“From what I have had reported to me, you’ve have a bit of a trial the last several days.”
Avery nodded.
“What would you say, if I told you that I know a way to make it so that what happened to you, could never happen to you again?”
“And how is that?”
“You have seen people change to battle form. Do you know all that the change does to a body?”
“It’s stronger, faster, and has plates of armor.”
“Right. One of those plates of armor can make it so that you can never be raped again.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have seen Lt. Cyndal transform? And the men as well? Well, when that happens, one of the plates that forms covers your private parts, between your legs. So that they cannot be exposed or used until you change back.”
Avery had enough experience on a farm with animals to understand about reproduction, and was not at all naive about sex. But this was a new idea. “You’re talking about giving me a battle form.”
“Yes I am.”
“But that’s not done.”
“Lt. Cyndal’s father once taught me that there is a difference between doing something, or not, because it is right or wrong, and doing it or not, simply because it is or is not done a certain way. I think this would be good for you. The men I’ve talked to say that you’ve been increasingly jumpy, and the women say that this will help. But it’s up to you.”
“Will it mean that I have to fight?”
“No. But we can arrange to teach you that if you want. And if you are going to go out with Lt. Cyndal’s troop, then you will need to know how.”
“Cyndal told me… Um Lt. Cyndal assigned me to see to some requisitions and to see to her wounded men.”
“That can be handled.”
Avery sat quietly thinking, but could come up with no real reason not to do this, and one reason of many to do it: this would really annoy her sisters.
“Ok, then. I’ll do this.”
“Come with me then, and we will start.”
“Right now?”
“Sure. No reason to wait.” The General picked up a piece of paper and stood. “Come on.”
Avery hesitated, then followed. He handed her the paper.
“Read this.”
Avery looked it over. It was a hand written sheet, in a clean script, which started in the middle of a sentence. She scanned to the end and found her own name in the heading to the next paragraph. It detailed the first moments of her meeting Cyndal, and killing two men in her kitchen. Following was a summary of the subsequent events. It concluded with her acceptance of the job of Orderly. The next paragraph was an evaluation of Avery. She read this with careful interest.
‘She is a bright young woman, with lots of potential. Having watched her kill two men in quick succession, with no adverse reaction subsequently, illustrates either that Avery has a dead spot in her soul, or a very live one with a firm sense of justice.’
She read further citations from other adults that knew her, giving honest, positive criticism. The last short paragraph about her was one sentence.
‘It is my opinion that, with proper training, Avery will make a very capable woman, and leader.’
Avery reread this again. Then looked up at where they were, entering a long tent full of machinery. She automatically gave the sheet back when the general held out his hand for it.
“Lt. Cyndal thinks very highly of you, Avery.” He turned to talk with a man there.
Avery just stood there processing what she had read, a pleasant feeling filing her. The Tech got her attention.
“You want me to put her in a mold?” He sounded skeptical.
“She’s physically large enough.”
“Yes, sir. But, it’s simply not done.”
“Well, I am saying to do it.”
Avery recognized a tone of voice from the General that reminded her of when her father wanted something specifically done.
The Tech deflated slightly, and shrugged. “Ok.”
He looked at Avery. “Strip and stand on the scale.” He pointed at one of the booths on the side of the tent.
Avery looked at the General, who nodded, and then she moved to the booth. The general brought her a towel and stepped out, she wrapped this around herself, as the rest of her clothes were stacked on the bench of the otherwise empty booth. She then came out and stepped on the scale. The Tech measured her weight, and height. Then turned to a tray with syringes. He checked one, and looked at the measure on it, and took her arm in hand.
“This will sting.”
He poked the needle into her bicep and pushed about one third of the stuff in, then pulled the needle back out.
“Rub it a bit. It will take a few moments to work.”
He put the needle in a cap, and then broke it off the syringe, which went back onto the tray. He then took her gently by the arm across the tent, toward an open mold. Its cavity looked like the coffins that her parents had been put in. But Avery was already feeling a bit giddy, and lightheaded. She could feel the cold air around her, but was heedless of it. She stepped into the cavity and turned around. The tech pulled a lever outside the doors. An air vent above her head distracted Avery. The general quickly reached in and pulled the towel off her and then darkness enveloped her.
They watched the unit seal, and recline slightly. It then began to hum, and throb as fluid was pumped into it.
“General, with her size, I think it may finish in about seventy hours, not the usual seventy three.”
“Fine. Whenever it happens, let me know.”
“Yes, General.”
They turned and walked away. The General gathered Avery’s clothes, and took them to the laundry, with instructions for them to go to her tent when finished.
Three days later, at lunchtime, the mold-unit signaled its cycle completed. The Tech had planned for this, calling in two female nurses to help Avery. He sent for the General. The Captain came, as the General was busy.
These nurses had never tended people just out of the mold, but all that Avery needed was to wake up, and reestablish her equilibrium. One cracked a vial of smelling salts in front of Avery’s mask. It took a moment, but she roused as they helped her out and onto her hands and knees.
The usual support frame was brought, and Avery took it and stood up. The nurses toweled her off, and the three moved into the booth for privacy. Avery was disoriented, but quickly came to herself. The Captain came into the booth with a drape over his arm, and a looking glass in hand. He looked Avery over from head to toe. Then he handed the drape over, and it was put over her head.
She looked at herself in the glass. Her mask was smooth, with vents on the sides, curving to follow her jaw line and cheeks. A few nubs lined her jaw toward the back. She had a small set of horns above her eyes, with a larger set curving back toward her ears.
She had pauldron plates and rembrace plates, but her forearms were not as fully covered as some, with a spur at her elbow and a pair of thin blades that came off each of her forearm bones. Her hands had barbs at each joint, pointed backward. Her backhand would be nasty. But she lacked the talons that most people had. Her torso and trunk plating was typical, but smoother than what adults had, and her spinal plates had nubs where adults has full, small spikes.
Her wings were also different than normal. Her trailing edge had the first and third digits about the same length as each other, but longer than the others, with the second and forth being shorter than average. Her legs were typically armored, and she had knee pads, but no barbs. There was nothing unusual about her feet, compared to other battle forms; claws on each toe, the larger toe slightly recessed with a larger claw, and standing on the ball and toes.
“I wondered what you would look like. The plates on your back are not as developed as on adults. And your crown does not look as full as it might. But you are still growing. I think it will fill out as you do. Now, let’s go get you some clothes. Do you think you can walk?”
“I’ll try.” Avery’s voice was slightly muffled, as typical for a mask. She started to let go of the frame, when he stopped her.
“You will need to use this, for a bit. Put it a step in front of you, and walk to it.”
She did this, and slowly moved forward, gaining some speed, and confidence. Her wings held high and back, spreading a bit, and her tail moving to balance.
Avery followed the Captain and saw snow on the ground. It had snowed while she had been changing. They went into the supply building, and Avery felt the change of surface under her feet. The temperature didn’t bother her though, she noticed. Just as she had learned she would.
The supply clerk measured her, and dug around finding her an unadorned uniform that was nearly her size. Also she got female undergarments, shoes, leggins and the other sundries for a kit. Then a winter jacket, and a utility belt and harness. Avery put all this on, or stacked it aside. By this point she almost had her balance.
The Captain took her back to the mold-tent, where she was given a cane, and the frame taken away.
“Ok, now. This is the acid test.” He turned to her, as she put her stuff back down. “Focus in your mind on what you look like, not in battle form, and hold that image.”
“Got it.”
“Now. Just like moving a limb. Move your body to that shape.” He changed back and forth to demonstrate.
“Battle form.” He got taller and his wings and tail came out. His feet and hands changed. One set of horns came from the bridge of his nose and around the sides of his head, and another set formed from behind his temples following the first. His mask enclosed his face.
“And back.” His body shrank, and his natural form returned.
Avery did not even look to concentrate. She just suddenly got shorter, her wings folding, and mask receding.
“Like that?”
“Yes. Now go back.”
She did before he finished saying to.
“Very good. You do it as naturally as anybody I have seen do this. Cyndal’s faith is well placed. Now let’s go get this put away, and you some lunch.”
Two days later, Cyndal reported back from her patrol. They had been attacked while out, but none died. Just six walking wounded. As her troop dispersed Cyndal approached the Captain.
“Captain. Where is my aid, Avery?”
“She is with the Flight Instructor.”
“So soon?”
“Didn’t seem like any reason to wait. The girl is a natural. She has plenty of rough edges, but what person that age doesn’t.”
“What range are they on?”
“I believe they are at the towers. Here’s your list of replacements, due in two days. Then you have two weeks of drill before going back out.” He handed her a small pack of papers.
Cyndal took the pack. “Thank you, sir.” She wanted to say more but another troop was mustering. She could either wait or leave.
“Is there something else Lieutenant?”
Cyndal almost said yes. “No sir.”
“Then carry on.” He turned to the assembled troop.
She went to go find her Sergeant, leafing through the pages. She had a full troop with these recruits, including her walking wounded. She found her sergeant and went to the mess tent to go over the T.O. and write her reports.
Avery sat down beside her at dinner, as Cyndal was still there. She had brought Cyndal a tray of food. “Here you go.”
Cyndal looked up. Avery stood at-ease in her unadorned uniform, red-blond hair tied back, cheeks a bit red from exposure. A broad smile counter to her tired eyes. Cyndal inspected her top to bottom.
“Let’s see it.”
Avery changed, as quick as any Cyndal had seen. Cyndal smiled. Her first in two days.
“Looks good. Eat.”
She motioned to Avery’s food with her stylus, which was then exchanged for a fork and started her own. Her sergeants all joined them. The finished trays were given to Avery. Cyndal set her report aside, and they went through their squads, assigning and shifting the men around. Then she read the orders to them. Avery had since returned with warm fruit drink for all. They finished their meeting and Cyndal dismissed all but two sergeants. These two she quizzed on events of the patrol, and then dismissed them. She then finished the reports.
“O.k. Read this, and find the mistakes.” Cyndal handed the report to Avery. “Out loud.” Avery had started to read it silently.
As she encountered unfamiliar words and acronyms Cyndal helped her with these, and also had her note changes.
“The Sergeant used to help me with these. Now it is your job. Eventually I will dictate it to you, and you will write it. But first I need to know how well you can handle language.”
Cyndal then commenced to rewrite the report, over another warm cup of juice. She finished the report, and tossed the first draft into a heat box where it quickly burned to ash. Cyndal went to the command tent and turned the report in.
“That’s done. Now we can get some rest.”
Avery helped Cyndal remove her armor and set it aside, noting where it would need repair. She then was sent for some coals to start their heater.
It was a cloudless night, and very still. The snow was not staying yet, but it was very cold at night.
