Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) by Jacqueline Rhoades Page B

laughed. “But I have news for you guys. If you don’t stop calling me ma’am, you’re all you going to be sporting new blood markings. My name is Mira, not ma’am.”
    “My apologies, ma’am,” Petrark said with a slight emphasis on the offending word, “but it’s protocol. You are Commander Roark’s...”
    Mira raised her finger in warning as she cut off what he was about to say. “Legion Officer Petrark, if you finish that sentence, you’re going to be covered with more blood markings than the old man himself. My name is Mira.”
    There were a few snorts and snickers as she patted their Legion Officer’s good arm and smiled. “You take care of yourself now. I’ll see you in class as soon as you’re able. As for the rest of you,” she offered a smile to the rest of the men on the ward, “I like your markings, but there’s no need to earn them all at once.”
    They called goodbye as she left, but none called her Mira or ma’am.
    Once back in the hallway, she found a young man with the black and red armband of a medic and asked him if there was a way out of the building other than through the front doors.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he answered and pointed out the way, “Though I’m sure the First Commander would insist...”
    “Thank you,” she cut him off and had to remind herself to walk as she exited the building.
    She was wearing a label she didn’t ask for and gave no one permission to use. They’d all decided what she was before she’d decided for herself.
    Like a thief in the night, Mira ran, stopping only long enough to retrieve her purse. As luck would have it, the man who pedaled her to and from work in his homemade cart was already parked by the gate. There were several others running similar carts, but Ollie always managed to be there when she needed him.
    “Thank heavens and thank you, Ollie. I’m a little early and I thought I was going to have to walk.” She climbed up into the seat, admiring the new cushions.
    “No ma’am, no walking for a special customer like you.”
    Ollie, an older man with a wife, two daughters and two grandchildren living under his roof, had built the two-seater passenger vehicle from a picture in a magazine of the rickshaw conveyances so common in Asian cities. Mira wondered what he thought of the contrast between his rickshaw and the Godan skitt. She hadn’t thought about it until today.
    She leaned forward so he could hear her. “I like the new cushions. They’re comfy. Business must be picking up.”
    “That it is. Got my daughter driving now. She runs a regular route up and down Main Street now that it’s cleared. My other daughter’s got a job working on the towers. Do you know they got a machine that does all the brick laying for you? It’s run by some fancy computer. The foreman said he put her name in to learn how to run it. She worked in IT before the war, so she’s got some skills.”
    “There’s plans for a school and clinic, too.” Mira was hoping Ollie would help spread the word.
    “Not sure how folks will take to that. My daughters would rather stick with home schooling for now. Their kids are registered, but you never know. Sure wish we knew what they done with those other kids. It would settle a lot of nerves if people knew those kids were safe and happy. Don’t see why they had to take them the way they did, neither. It’d scare the hell out of me seeing those helmet heads come banging on my door. Can you imagine what the sight of it does to those kids? You ought to tell that to that Commander feller you’re um...uh... working for.”
    “I will,” she said, though after today, she wasn’t sure she’d be working at all.
    Ollie stopped in front of her building and gave her a wink as he took her money. “And you be sure to tell him how much I appreciate the extra he’s paying me to take care of you and for giving my daughter a leg up on the work list. It’s made all the difference to me and my family. You have a good day now,