Pax Galactica - A Space Opera

Chapter 17 - Pomp and Circumstance

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From afar the observation deck of the Sic Semper Tyrannis looked like a shiny bulge on the head of the ship. The dome was entirely the creation of concentric layers of transparent force-fields. It could be sealed off perfectly from the rest of the ship and, if depowered, simply ceased to exist.

Huge and elaborate dragon tapestries, each an individual masterwork of art, covered every centimeter of the force-walls, leaving only the dome's ceiling open to the stars. The room was dominated by a central stage which had a dragon holo-statue on each side.

A black carpet cut an obvious path through the room and up the stairs leading to the stage. All along suited and cloaked rangers stood at attention. Filling in the space behind them was dozens of other rangers, at least a hundred, some wearing suits others wearing all kinds of different clothes. All wore identical green cloaks clasped with a black dragon insignia.

Decker knew there was going to be a ceremony but didn't really remember what was involved. The weird Neutronium Dragon etiquette book wasn't exactly the one that was getting most of his focus when he was trying to study at a million o'clock at night while simultaneously trying not to slip away into death.

This though, this was a lot to take in. He hadn't expected all this. It couldn't possibly all be for him, could it?

Decker walked along the path that had obviously been lain out for him, through the row of still-standing rangers. Decker had never seen anything like it, not in the real world.

The Lodge Mistress was waiting for him center stage. She wore green-gilded black ceremonial robes and a dragon-clasped cloak. A sheathed sword hung at her side. She indicated where Decker should stand with a nod of her head.

"Today you attest to unbreakable oaths. Listen to each question I ask of you and consider it as though for the first time," said the Lodge Mistress.

Decker understood. All he could think to do was nod.

"Do you swear to carry arms in the name of the protection of the human race, and all other intelligent species who dwell with peace within human space?" asked the Lodge Mistress.

"I do so swear," said Decker.

"Do you swear you will give your life, if necessary, to guard those under your protection?"

"I do so swear."

"Do you promise you will abandon all personal and familial interests, all political and genetic biases, and instead swear your sole allegiance to the human species, the Corps, and your lodge, in that order?"

"I do so swear."

"Do you swear to treat the honor of the Neutronium Dragons as your own personal honor, and to uphold our ideals unto the point of death?"

"I do so swear."

"Name them," said the Lodge Mistress.

"Honor, duty and courage," said Decker.

"Kneel," she said, and Decker did so.

The Lodge Mistress looked down at Decker, her eyes aflame with gravitas. Decker had always thought being in 'awe' of another human was only used as a metaphor, but now he knew better. He was awed by the presence of this woman who seemed to look directly into his soul.

"You must be the torch bearer, bringer of light to the dark unknown places. You must be the diplomat, exemplar of the better angels of your species. You must be the knight, protector of the life and dignity of the weak."

The Lodge Mistress held aloft a gleaming sword from old Earth, painstakingly restored to the same strength and sharpness as the day it was forged and then entropy locked. It was nearly ageless. Older than the Three Rings Cooperative, older than the singularity, older than human space travel. It was a relic of the unfathomably ancient prisoners of gravity who once looked up at the stars and could only guess at the destiny they represented.

She brought it down on Decker's shoulder with surprising speed and power, but also strict control. It stopped just shy of cutting him.

"In the name of the Aerospace Ranger Corps I now bestow upon you the title of Squire."

Moving the sword over his head the Lodge Mistress touched Decker's other shoulder and then returned the sword to its sheath in one fluid movement.

The assembled rangers applauded as Decker stood back up. The Lodge Mistress wrapped a green cloak around him and clasped it with a black dragon deathward.

Decker hadn't felt it back in the sick bay, not really. Now he did. He was a squire now. He was a member of A.R.C.