Marco Domici: With the chaplain

"Come in Corporal. It's a bit crowded but I'm sure you can squeeze in somewhere."

"You asked to see me, Chaplin?" Marco looked at the half dozen chairs arranged near a desk. The only thing they seemed to be occupied by was dust.

"Chaplain Domici, Corporal." The man grinned as he stood up and shook Marco's hand. "Technically a Major in the unit but I tend not to exercise command functions. Have a seat."

As they sat, the Chaplin closed his screen and turned to face Marco. "Do you get it yet?"

"What, sir?" Marco frowned. "I...ah...have you had any reports on me? Sir?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure, with an answer like that, I will eventually." The chaplain stretched his long frame and ended up with boots halfway across his desk. "I've gone over your record, corporal. Some of your pre-enlistment activities have been reported to me as well."

"Officially, I will commend you on full engagement with your duties and tasks. Your command chain has recognized your dedication to learning the skills a trooper needs and your willingness to achieve the objectives." He leaned forward. "Personally, I'm not surprised, given your history. You did the same thing with the Antiguan villages mission trip, I believe? Applied yourself, worked hard, and achieved your goals even before graduating high school."

"Yes sir. I..." Marco did a double-take. "Is that part of my record, sir?"

"When you work for God, corporal, many things are known." He laughed for a moment and then just smiled. "My conversations with the Almighty tend to be about my own challenges and duties, son. Notes on you were provided by another source."

"My dad, right? What did he say? Was he in the unit?" Marco's eyes glazed a bit as he went back in time. "The day I enlisted was the last day I saw him. I wasn't going to make the cut but he said something to the recruiter. What can you tell me about him?"

"Corporal." The chaplain's eyes and tone fell. "First, the history of anyone who may have been a member of this unit is never a topic for discussion by anyone except that person. We take our brotherhood seriously."

"Second, and this is why you're really here, is that I am to inform you that your father has passed away. Details are sketchy, the local authorities are being a bit close-mouthed. I cannot tell you, officially, that initial reports show violence was involved. I also cannot say, officially, that several of those who chose your dad as a target didn't live long enough to regret their mistake."

"Third." The chaplains voice rang with cutlass steel. "You have a special assignment coming down the chain, effective immediately. The quartermaster has a draw list for you. Pack your kit and be on the 2315 lifter to high port."

"Last..." His voice softened. "There will be a silent memorial service at 2145 in the chapel. Dress greens, no talking, and you are not to recognize anyone you see. It is a time of respect and reflection, Marco. The soldier that sits in my office now seems to have forgotten the zeal for right a teenager had just a few short years ago. If you see men and women at the service tonight, it is not because someone could brag the loudest or drink the most beer. One day you may hear stories like that but really, what draws us to honor another is the positive impact someone has had on us individually."

Marco stepped off the transport and headed for his launch. He'd have enough time on ship to clean and sort through all the gear provided, right now he just let the darkened shades hide his tears. They were sending him away to keep him out of the investigation, he was sure of that. He really didn't understand why all the unit brass had been at the service nor did he really get who his dad was.

His pace slowed. At the moment he wasn't sure who he was, yet something hit him like an ortillary kill shot. Marco slumped onto his ruck in the middle of the dock.

Domici.

Al's Jump Lights let a man enlist under any name they wanted. At the end of their first honorable service term the paperwork was made legal. Prince Allesandro had been a Domici. Officers, retirees, and certain others were allowed to change their name and join "the Family" and take the Domici name.

His father had been a Domici.

He was a Domici.

"Something causing you to block traffic, soldier?" One of the port guards approached Marco.

"Sorry officer, just got a little winded." Marco one-armed the large ruck onto his back and smiled. "Enjoy your day, officer."