Faith & Empire: Book One of The Holy Terran Empire

15. The Farewell Tour

Christmas that year was a small and intimate celebration with my parents, grandparents on my mother's side and the young twins. After Christmas I hit the road, visiting for two or three weeks at a time with various branches of my extended family. The trip led me across all three Southern Unions of North America as well as occasioned the crossing of the Pacific to spend two weeks with Uncle Bruno and his family in Brisbane.

I returned home in time to join mother, father, paw-paw and the young twins on a road trip to the Neo England Union, where my grandparents, on my father's side, played host for Passion Week and Easter at their home on the Garden Isle of Staten. That trip officially completed my farewell tour of the extended family.

Afterwards, the immediate family returned to our home in Georgetown Diocese of Union Dixie to spend two weeks together. My parents, bless their hearts, were over solicitous those final weeks, practically waiting on me hand and foot. When my mother wasn't cooking me my favorite meals, my father was taking us to my favorite restaurants. They proffered me all manner of advice and admonishments as if they were trying to cram in as much parenting as they could into those last days I would spend living under their roof.

Even my mother's usually taciturn father spent little time in his booklined study during those final weeks. Paw-paw took himself away from the writing of his memoirs to join in the family games and conversations. He regaled us with stories from his career in the Solar Defence Force. I had heard most of them before and memorized the various bits of wisdom my grand father had distilled from his experiences. However, I gladly listened to him repeat them and paid him particular attention when he broached a new subject.

"You be extra careful about fraternities, my boy," he warned me out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, boys away from home for the first time, trying to make their own way in the world; it's only natural that they will cluster into fraternities and clubs or gangs, if they're of a criminal bent. Only natural. Most of these fraternities at academies like Golan Heights, or the ones at our own Citadel or VMI are harmless. Some of them are even good and useful. You can win yourself life-long friends in a fraternity. I did. So did your father.

"But they're not all good," my grandfather continued with an emphatic shake of his thick index finger. "Be wary of those who insist on your dignity as the price of admission."

"My dignity?"

"Yes, you know what I mean," he said emphatically. "Steer clear of boys who demand you get blind, blackout drunk or take a paddling or some such to join their group. Be especially wary of the latter sort. There's something fundamentally wrong with boys who enjoy paddling each other. It ain't natural, if you catch my drift."

"I don't think I want to go anywhere near that drift."

"That's good to hear."

"What did you have to do to get into your fraternity, paw-paw?"

"I had to spear me a wild boar, that's what I had to do," he answered, striking his chest twice with a wide-splayed hand. "And I had to volunteer a hundred hours at the upstate home for infirmed priests."

"You killed a boar by yourself?"

"No," my grandfather answered. "There were three older boys with me who helped kill it. But I was the pledge, so I was on point."

"Wow," I said and then called over my shoulder to the dining room where my father was helping mother set the table. "Did you have to do anything like that dad?"

"No, my fraternity got its pork from the commissary like civilized folk," my father answered.

My grandfather snorted derisively and my father chuckled before continuing. "My fraternity was a sports orientated outfit. They sponsored a grueling triathlon every year for those who wished to join. The first twelve across the finish line, the 'Dirty Dozen', they called us, won ourselves a place in the fraternity."