Faith & Empire: Book One of The Holy Terran Empire

1. Prayer & Fasting

"Diende, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

I crossed myself at the words of absolution. "Amen," I said and lifted my head to peer through the latticed screen of the confessional. "Thank you, Father."

"God be with you, Marine," the priest responded.

I exited the confessional, leaving its door open for the next penitent in line. I then found myself an open spot on the aisle end of a nearby pew and knelt to offer up my penance. When the prayers were said, I rose from the kneeler and sat back to prepare myself for the Mass and for the coming battle.

The chapel of Saint Pius V was aboard the Imperial Star Ship Lepanto, a Paladin-class battleship parked outside the Muvurunian star system. Her mission: uproot the pirate horde that made the system their stronghold. In a few short hours, if the pirates didn't heed our demand to surrender unconditionally, the Lepanto would lead her battle group in a punitive invasion of the system.

If so, it would be my first time in battle.

And of course, I was nervous. In fact, I confessed to being outright afraid.

"The flesh is always weak," Father Ochiro reminded me gently. "No matter how hardened it is by training or how steeled by discipline the spirit, the flesh is always the weak link in our fallen, mortal state. So, do not berate yourself for being afraid. What you feel is only natural. It's certainly not a sin. Remember, the knowledge of His coming Passion so wracked our Lord's flesh with fear that He sweat blood."

"Yes, Father."

"Offer up your fear to our Lord," the priest added. "Join it to His suffering on the cross. Pray for an increase of faith in our Lord's mercy and rely on the training the Empire has invested in you. If you can do that, you will do well in God's eyes."

"I will do my best, Father."

"I know you will, son. Imperial Marines can do no less."

A half hour later, the Mass began and I prayed as the priest recommended. As it most often did, the liturgy swept me up, drawing me out of myself, climaxing in the reception of the Blessed Sacrament. My unease left me as the Holy Host dissolved against my palate. At last, I was able to settle comfortably into a deep sense of peace during the denouement of closing prayers. When the priest sent us off at the end of the Mass, I filed out quietly and contentedly with the rest of my freshly shriven brothers of Fifth Battalion.

Six abreast, we made our way through the Lepanto to one of the ship's hangar decks for a pre-mission briefing. We were in our dress uniforms, red-trimmed gray brigandines with matching zouave pants stuffed into black, long boots shined to a mirror finish. Gold-buttoned red gaiters dressed the boots. Our waists were girded with red silk sashes whose ends dangled half way down our thighs from the ceremonial knots tied at our left hips. Our heads were topped with berets, gray with red piping and stalk.

Beside me, Izzy Hooke, my oldest friend in the corps patted his belly as it made muffled gurgling noises. "Hang in there, beastie," he said. "It won't be too much longer."

"Are you hungry already?" I asked him.

"Always," was his response. "I've told you, fasting don't agree with me."

I chuckled as did a few others around us. Izzy was part Kunthian, a big man, over two meters tall, with a prodigious appetite which chafed against the Imperial Marines' practice of fasting before battle. Myself, I could go a couple of days without feeling a genuine pang of hunger, but doing without breakfast and lunch was enough to rile up Izzy's stomach.