Ch. 10 Hair We Go

"Corporal Francesca, of Claymore I, reporting for duty to escort Contessa Malvin during her time in the enemy territory of the Republic of Frost!"

Cpl. Francesca removed her cap, tucked it under her arm, snapped a salute, and clicked her heels. She stared straight ahead as she stood at attention in front of Captain Hunks, her spine in perfect alignment and not a hair out of place.

Martis was sitting at his desk when she marched into the office, much like Mjr. Connery. He couldn't help but stare at her, and wondered briefly if her spine really was made out of steel. Although she was a mere two inches taller and three years older than Contessa Malvin, he had no doubt he was looking at a seasoned veteran, so to speak. Oreldo thought much the same, only adding his admiration for her very wiry, petite figure that was only a little more muscular than that of an acrobat or dancer. Stecchin froze in mid-sentence with Pvt. Albrecht, who forgot himself as his mouth sagged open in awe. The other two privates in her charge also fell silent.

Cpl. Francesca, the only female to fight-and win-her way into the coveted and feared platoon of Claymore I, earned her spot by being more savage and ruthless than the average elite soldier. There was no doubt to anyone in the room that this young, hardened woman was a warrior with real combat under her belt. As to how many she may have killed, whether they were the enemy or civilian, was anyone's guess. Much like with Cpl. Oland, nobody really wanted to know.

Captain Hunks gazed at her from his desk with his chin resting on top of his folded hands, his calm face betraying nothing.

"At ease," he intoned. The young warrior stood at rest perfectly, her legs parted, hand behind her back, still staring straight ahead.

The captain studied her for a moment more.

"Thank you coming here so promptly, Corporal," he began, "I just wanted to meet with you and get you acquainted with the rest of the team before any final preparations are made."

"Sir!" Francesca replied with a nod.

Hunks waited, then realized she was unused to speaking out of turn.

"Do you have any questions for me, Corporal?"

"Sir, no, Sir!"

"You may speak freely, soldier. Anything at all?"

"Sir! My only wish is for the mission to be successful, Sir!"

Hunks smiled, unfazed. "I have no doubt about that," he said, "But tell me, what is the mission?"

Albrecht was immediately confused.

"Ma'am, why did he ask her that?" he whispered to Stecchin. "Doesn't she know? Didn't anyone tell her?"

"Shh!" Stecchin said, waving him back.

Cpl. Francesca seemed to stand even straighter.

"Sir! My mission is simple! Escort the Contessa in her dealings with the Republic, guarding her at all times with my life, and also to observe the behavior and conduct of the enemy, Sir!"

"Wrong," the Captain replied, his tone holding the merest hint of rebuke.

Surprised, the corporal struggled to keep her expression neutral. "Sir?"

"Try again, Corporal."

It was clear the woman was used to straightforward commands and responses. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

"Sir…" she began, scrambling to figure out what her possible mistake could have been, "My mission is to be an escort for Contessa Malvin, her personal bodyguard, to protect her with my life at all times as she travels through the enemy territory of the Republic-"

"Wrong."

Francesca blinked once and allowed a frown to crease her features. She fell silent, waiting to be corrected and disciplined. When no answer was forthcoming, her cheeks colored.

"Sir, forgive me, Sir! It seems I do not understand the nature of the mission, Sir! Please correct me, Sir! I humbly beg your pardon, Sir! I will accept any punishment you deem fit, Sir!"

Captain Hunks couldn't take it anymore. He ducked his head down and snickered into his hands. He tried to turn it into a cough, but was quite unsuccessful. When he peered back up at her he could tell the soldier was quite perturbed despite taking great pains to hide it.

Prideful, this one, he thought. I hope she can fit in…and I hope she's not here to…well, we'll just have to see.

Aloud he said, "Apologies are quite unnecessary, Corporal. A reminder is all you need."

"Sir!" she responded louder than intended.

"Just that," Hunks said, "in spite of the current political climate, the Republic is technically not the enemy. We are not at war with them, and I expect you to treat them that way, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Francesca replied, but her eyes still held confusion.

Hunks sighed. "I'm sure Major Connery and your other superiors have told you otherwise, but that's not how we in Section Three do things. Our mission is, has always been, and always will be war relief."

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"That means no direct conflict unless absolutely necessary. We are not bullies. We do not intimidate or badger anyone into submission, so none of this being 'the Sword of the Empire.' Are we clear on that, Corporal?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Good. Welcome to the Pumpkin Scissors. Take any desk you like."

Cpl. Francesca snapped a second salute, clicking her heels. Per habit, Oreldo was the first to spring to his feet.

"Well," he said, his tone jovial, "now that we're done with the formalities, let me introduce you to everyone. I'm Second Lieutenant Oreldo, and this…" he fell quiet as he saw the corporal hadn't moved an inch. "Uh…hello? You can relax now. It's just us."

"Sir!" Francesca answered, her expression neutral but her tone held barely veiled contempt. "The Captain has not excused me, Sir!"

Oreldo rolled his eyes. "Ooookay."

"Sir, excuse me, but anyone in Basic Training would know that, Sir!"

"Actually," Hunks drawled, "I just did."

Francesca was visibly startled. "Sir?"

"I just told you to take a desk, didn't I?"

Francesca bowed her head a couple of inches. "Sir…yes, Sir. You did. I did not realize that was your dismissal...Sir."

"All right, then," Hunks said. Clamping his pipe, he added, "Probably the most important thing for you to remember, Corporal, is that while you're with us, you go by our rules. You are under the authority of both the Lieutenants Oreldo, and Martis, as well as Sergeant-Major Stecchin. Oreldo being your XO, you will answer to him during this mission." He regarded her for a moment. "You will get along, won't you?"

"Sir, yes, Sir," Francesca answered, subdued but much calmer. Hunks nodded and returned to his paper.

Oreldo huffed with impatience. Years ago, he might have called her a stuck up brat to her face, but he realized what Captain Hunks was trying to do-break down her walls gently.

"Okay, first of all," he replied, "we're called 'easy-going' for a reason. You don't have to be so formal, not even with Contessa Malvin, all right?"

Francesca snapped and turned to him. It was just out of habit. The movement was so fast and crisp that she startled Oreldo, forcing him to step back. He sighed wearily. This was going to take time.

"Sir-"

"Please," he interrupted, holding up his hands. "Just Oreldo or Lieutenant Oreldo."

"S…Lieutenant Oreldo, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Sir-er," Francesca tried, "I…I thought that part of the reason I'm here is to give the Republic a better impression of the Empire. The Empire's reputation is at stake."

"Is that what Major Connery told you?" Martis asked standing up.

Francesca answered him, although her eyes never strayed from Oreldo's, which again, was a force of habit.

"S… Yes, in so many words."

Oreldo sighed again. "Yeah, I thought so. Well, can't say I blame him." He returned to his desk and plopped down with an audible groan.

Martis came to her and held out a hand.

"Hi, my name is Lieutenant Martis."

Cpl. Francesca finally looked at him. "A pleasure, Lieutenant," she said stiffly, and shook his hand. Her voice held no enthusiasm, nor did her grip. Her mask finally cracked a bit when she studied his face.

"Martis? Formerly from the now-defunct Elite Corp, correct?"

Martis flushed slightly at the memory. "Yeah…why?"

"You were an honor graduate at the Academy, right?"

"I was."

Francesca warmed a bit. "Your test scores still stand in most subjects. Your research on the Republic's use of ciphers was…quite enlightening."

Martis brightened and stood a little straighter. "Really? Thanks!"

"But…" she faltered. "I mean…why are you here?" She gasped, dropping his hand. "My humblest apologies…I didn't mean to insinuate…"

Martis chuckled, waving a hand in dismissal. "I'm not surprised, what with the Major being your superior and all," he said.

"He's not exactly our biggest fan," Oreldo added, "Nor are many of the other units, even though we're in the same army! You'd think we'd all get along famously, but noooo!"

Stecchin giggled and motioned to the others.

"It'll be just fine, I'm sure!" she said, grabbing Francesca's hand with both of her own and pumping it up and down twice. "I'm Segeant-Major Stecchin. Don't worry, we've always had that reputation!"

Francesca peered down at the pint-sized soldier, realizing this tiny person was also her superior.

"R-right," she said.

"Well," Stecchin said cheerfully. "I'll let the rest make the introductions. Would you like some tea?"

Shocked, Francesca looked away to the Captain, who was still hidden behind his newspaper. She'd never had a superior officer offer her anything other than a healthy dose of discipline.

"Yes," she said, relaxing at last in tiny increments. "Yes, Ma'am. I would."

Cheesy title, but oh well. HEY! Finally! A new chapter! Whoo-hoo! Oh, and the new gal's name is Francesca, not Francia! (Oops!) I'll fix it!