The Ghost Brigades (31 page)

“Don't put this on me,” Jared said. “I have nothing to do with this.”

“Don't you?” Boutin said, amused. “Listen, Dirac. The Colonial Union is not going to see me as the instrument of its demise. I'll already be dead. They're going to see you, and you alone. Oh, you'll be a part of this, my friend. You don't have a choice.”

“The more I think about this plan the less I like it,” Harvey said to Sagan. They and Seaborg crouched at the line of the forest edging the science station.

“Try not to think so much,” Sagan said.

“That should be easy for you, Harvey,” Seaborg said. He was trying to lighten the mood and doing a poor job of it.

Sagan glanced down at Seaborg's leg. “Are you going to be able to do this?” she asked. “Your limp's gotten worse.”

“I'll be fine,” Seaborg said. “I'm not going to sit here like a turd while you two are completing the mission.”

“I'm not saying that,” Sagan said. “I'm saying that you and Harvey could switch roles.”

“I'm fine,” Seaborg repeated. “And anyway, Harvey would kill me if I took his gig.”

“Goddamn right,” Harvey said. “This shit is what I'm good at.”

“My leg hurts, but I can walk on it and run on it,” Seaborg said. “I'll be fine. But let's not just sit here and talk about this anymore. My leg's going to tighten up.”

Sagan nodded and turned her gaze back to the science station, which was a rather modest collection of buildings. On the north end of the compound were the Obin barracks, which were surprisingly compact; the Obin either did not want or need anything approaching privacy. Like humans the Obin collected together at mealtimes; many of them would be in the mess hall adjacent to the barracks. Harvey's job was to create a distraction there and draw attention to himself, leading the Obin in other parts of the station toward him.

On the south end of the compound was the energy generator/regulator, housed in a large, shed-like building. The Obin used what were essentially huge batteries, which were constantly charged by windmills placed at a distance from the station. Seaborg's job was to cut the power, somehow. He'd have to work with what he found there to make it happen.

Between the two was the science station proper. After the power dropped, Sagan would enter, find Boutin and extract him, pounding him unconscious if need be to get him to the capture pod. If she came across Dirac, she would need to make a quick determination whether he was useful or if he had gone traitor like his progenitor. If it was the latter, she would have to kill him, clean and quick.

Sagan suspected she was going to have to kill Dirac no matter what; she didn't really think she would have enough time to decide whether he was trustworthy or not, and she didn't have her BrainPal upgrade to read his thoughts on the matter. Sagan allowed herself a moment of mirthless amusement at the fact that her mind-reading ability, so secret and classified, was also completely useless to her when she really needed it. Sagan didn't want to have to kill Dirac, but she didn't see that she had a whole lot of options in the matter.
Maybe he's already dead,
Sagan thought.
That would save me the trouble
.

Sagan shook the thought out of her head. She didn't like what that particular line of thought was saying about her. She would worry about Dirac when and if Dirac showed up. In the meantime, the three of them had other things to worry about. In the end, what really mattered was getting Boutin to that capture pod.

We do have one advantage,
Sagan thought.
None of us really expects we're going to survive. That gives us options
.

“Are we ready?” Sagan asked.

“We're ready,” Seaborg said.

“Fuck, yes,” Harvey said.

“Let's do it then,” Sagan said. “Harvey, you're on.”

 

Jared woke from a brief nap to find Zoë staring up at him. He smiled. “Hello, Zoë,” he said.

“Hello,” Zoë said, and frowned. “I forgot your name,” she said.

“I'm Jared,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” Zoë said. “Hello, Mr. Jared.”

“Hello, sweetie,” Jared said, and once again he found it hard to keep his voice even. He glanced down at the stuffed animal Zoë carried. “Is that Celeste the elephant?” he asked.

Zoë nodded, and held it up for him to see. “Uh-huh,” she said. “I used to have a Babar, but I lost it. Do you know Babar?”

“I do,” Jared said. “I remember seeing your Babar too.”

“I miss my Babar,” Zoë said in a little voice, but then perked up. “But then Daddy got me Celeste, after he came back.”

“How long was he away?” Jared asked.

Zoë shrugged. “A long time,” she said. “He said he had things he had to do first. But he said he sent the Obin to protect me and watch out for me.”

“And did they?” Jared asked.

“I guess so,” she said. She shrugged and said in a low voice, “I don't like the Obin. They're boring.”

“I can see that,” Jared said. “I'm sorry you and your dad were kept apart for so long, Zoë. I know he loves you very much.”

“I know,” Zoë said. “I love him too. I love Daddy and Mommy and all the grandparents I never met and my friends from Covell too. I miss them. Do you think they miss me?”

“I'm sure they do,” Jared said, and willfully avoided thinking about what happened to her friends. He looked back at Zoë and saw her being pouty. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Daddy says that I have to go back to Phoenix with you,” Zoë said. “He says that you're going to stay with me so he can finish up some work here.”

“Your daddy and I talked about that,” Jared said, carefully. “Do you not want to go back?”

“I want to go back with Daddy,” she said, plaintively. “I don't want him to stay.”

“He won't be gone very long,” Jared said. “It's just the ship that we brought here to take you home is really small, and there's only going to be room in it for you and me.”

“
You
could stay,” Zoë said.

Jared laughed. “I wish I could, honey. But we'll have fun while we wait for your daddy, I promise. Is there anything you'd like to do when we get to Phoenix Station?”

“I want to buy some
candy,
” Zoë said. “They don't have any here. Daddy says the Obin don't make any. He tried to make me some once, though.”

“How was it?” Jared asked.

“It was really
bad,
” Zoë said. “I want jawbreakers and butter-scotch and lollipops and jellybeans. I like the black ones.”

“I remember that,” Jared said. “The first time I saw you, you were eating black jellybeans.”

“When was that?” Zoë asked.

“It was a long time ago, sweetie,” Jared said. “But I remember it like it was yesterday. And when we go back, you can have any candy you want.”

“But not too much,” Zoë said. “Because then my stomach will hurt.”

“Exactly right,” Jared said. “And we really couldn't have that. A stomachache just wouldn't do.”

Zoë smiled up at Jared and broke his heart. “You're silly, Mr. Jared,” she said.

“Well,” Jared said, smiling back. “I try.”

“Okay, I'm going to go,” Zoë said. “Daddy's taking a nap. He doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go wake him up because I'm hungry.”

“You go do that, Zoë,” Jared said. “Thank you for visiting, Zoë. I'm really glad you came by.”

“Okay,” Zoë said, turned around, and waved back to him as she went. “Bye, Mr. Jared! See you later.”

“See you later,” Jared said, knowing he wouldn't.

“Love you!” Zoë said, in that casual way that kids do.

“Love you too,” Jared whispered, as a parent. He waited until he heard a door close down the adjoining hall before he let himself release the ragged, tearing breath he had been holding in.

Jared looked at the lab, his eyes flitting over the console Boutin had brought in to manage the consciousness transfer, and lingering on the second crèche Boutin had brought in, the one in which he would place himself before sending over his consciousness to Jared's body, wiping out Jared's existence as if he were simply a placeholder, something put there to mark time until the body's true owner could take possession.

But then, Jared thought, wasn't that actually the case? It
was
Boutin who was intended to be in this body. That was why it was created. Jared was allowed to exist only because Boutin's consciousness refused at first to take up residence. It had to be coaxed in to share the mindspace Jared had created as caretaker. And now, irony of ironies, Botuin wanted it all, wanted to push Jared aside entirely.
Damn it,
Jared thought crazily.
I just got this brain set up the way I like it!
He laughed, and the laugh sounded shaky and weird to his ears. He tried to calm himself, bringing himself into a more rational state breath by breath.

Jared heard Boutin in his head, describing the wrongs of the Colonial Union, and heard the voice of Cainen, whom he trusted more to be honest about these things, echoing the sentiments. He looked into his own past as a member of the Special Forces, and the things they had done in the name of making the universe “safe for humanity.” The Colonial Union
did
straddle every line of communication, directed every course of action, kept every aspect of humanity under tight control, and fought nearly every other race they knew of with persistent ferocity.

If the universe
was
as hostile as the Colonial Union said, perhaps this level of control was justified, for the overarching racial imperative of holding ground and making a place for humans in the universe. But if it
wasn't
—if what was fueling the Colonial Union's constant wars was not competition from the outside but paranoia and xenophobia from the inside—then Jared knew that he and everyone he'd known inside the Special Forces and out of it could have, in one way or another, led to the slow death of humanity that Boutin assured him was out there. He would have chosen to refuse to fight.

But,
Jared thought,
Boutin isn't reliable
. Boutin labeled the Colonial Union as evil, but Boutin also chose to do evil things. He caused three separate races—two with long-standing issues—to come together to attack the Colonial Union, exposing billions of humans and billions of other intelligent creatures to the threat of war. He had experimented upon and killed Special Forces soldiers. He was planning to kill every single member of Special Forces and every other CDF soldier with his BrainPal virus, something akin to a genocide, considering the numbers and the unique makeup of the Colonial Defense Forces. And in killing the Colonial Defense Forces, Boutin would leave the colonies and Earth defenseless against any race who chose to claim one of the colonies as its own. The Obin couldn't stop the land rush from these other races—and probably wouldn't even if they could. The reward for the Obin was not land but consciousness.

The unprotected colonists would be doomed, Jared realized. Their colonies would be destroyed and there would be nowhere for them to go. It wasn't in the nature of the races in this part of the galaxy to share their worlds. Earth with its billions might survive; it would be hard to displace billions of humans without a fight. The more sparsely populated and less ecologically burdened colony planets would be far more attractive. But if someone decided to attack Earth, and the Earth had indeed been held back by the Colonial Union for its own purposes, it wouldn't be able to fully defend itself. It would survive, but the damage would be immense.

Doesn't Boutin see this?
Jared asked himself. Perhaps he did, but chose to believe that it wouldn't happen that way. But maybe he simply never considered the consequences of his actions. When the Obin contacted him, perhaps all Boutin saw was a people so desperate for the thing he could give them that they would do anything to get it. Maybe Boutin asked for the moon and didn't give a thought to what he would do with the moon once he had it. Maybe Boutin didn't really think the Obin would really, truly give him the war he asked for.

Interlaced within all of this, Jared felt a sick-making worry for Zoë: What would happen to her if Boutin failed or was killed; what would happen to her if he succeeded? Jared felt guilty for worrying about what would happen to one small child when billions of lives would be altered or ended, but he couldn't help himself. As much as anything, he was looking for a way where Zoë lived through all of it.

Jared felt overwhelmed by the choices he needed to make, and underwhelmed by the information he had to make them with, and utterly bereft at how little he would be able to do about any of it. He felt like he was probably the last person in the world who should be wrestling with all of this. But there was nothing to be done about it now. He closed his eyes and considered his options.

An hour later Jared opened his eyes as Boutin came through the door, trailed by an Obin. “You're awake,” Boutin said.

“I am,” Jared said.

“It's time for me to make the transfer,” Boutin said. “I've programmed in the process and run the simulations; it looks like it's going to run perfectly. There's no point in putting it off anymore.”

“Far be it from me to stop you from killing me,” Jared said, casually.

Boutin paused; Jared saw that coming right out and mentioning his incipient murder disturbed Boutin.
Good,
Jared thought.

“About that,” Boutin said. “Before we do the transfer, I can run a directive that will put you to sleep, if you want. You wouldn't feel a thing. I'm offering that to you. If you want.”

“You don't seem to want it,” Jared said.

“It makes the transfer more difficult, from what I can see from the simulations,” Boutin said. “The transfer will take more securely if you're conscious as well.”

“Well then, by all means I'll stay awake,” Jared said. “I wouldn't want to make this more difficult for you.”

“Listen, Dirac,” Boutin said. “This isn't something personal. You have to understand that you offer a way to make this all happen quickly and cleanly, with the least amount of bloodshed on all sides. I'm sorry you have to die, but the alternative is far more death.”