Blake Blakesly tried to relax, but it wasn't happening. His sleepicle was too small to pace properly, so he fidgeted, awaiting words from headquarters.
As he stewed, he thought about how he had gotten into the service. After the compulsory physical fitness exams in school had disqualified him from the glory of holovision actor (curse my physical fitness!), he had considered going into the civil service, but that application required a fee. Joining the Service had been free. Hello, Service.
Basic Training had been great. Because of the number of lawsuits (many of which were still pending), it had all been classroom-based with frequent breaks and recesses. He had learned how to make lemonade and write poetry. And, theoretically, how to handle a Weapon.
Then came the Tour of Duty in Low America. He had killed a man for the first time there, an Enemy soldier who had stumbled into their party while tracking game. Others froze, but Blakesly calmly pulled his Weapon out of its designer bag and shot the man in the head. Then, to ward off any nightmares, his entire group wrote poetry about their feelings.
And now this. A charge of disobedience...but no one would seriously have expected him to go back for his Squad Leader's lucky cap, would they? It was ridiculous.
Just then there was a knock at the door as a letter was slide under it. Hands trembling slightly, Blake opened the letter.
"Blake Blakesly. Due to your recent actions concerning deliberate disobedience of Squad Leader orders, you are to appear before the Minister-General in seven days to be tried for Heresy."
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