Orphan Brigade

by Henry V. O'Neil

  “Why are they making us hump all this water when they can resupply us anytime?” This came from one of the veterans, a dour man whose name Mortas had not yet mastered.

  “Yeah, Sarge—­why don’t they give us some of that powdered water instead?” Ladaglia managed to keep a straight face until one of the other veterans provided the punch line.

  “Yeah, that’s what we need, Sarge! Dehydrated aych-­two-­oh. Just add water.”

  The three squads got a good laugh in as they headed back across the storage area. Berland had marked out their different start positions on the oil-­stained metal floor, and Mortas stepped away from them to consult with the senior NCO. He was tugging at his fatigue shirt under the torso armor, and Berland didn’t wait for him to speak.

  “Problem with the rig, sir?” Much earlier, Berland had showed Mortas how to adjust his helmet so that it no longer slid down onto his goggles whenever he hit the deck.

  “Sorta.” Mortas half turned, rifle in one hand, while raising the curved plate of the armor’s rear piece to show the handle of Corporal Cranther’s fighting knife. “I wore this thing for days on Roanum, but that was without armor. This is the way the Spartacan Scout carried it, but it’s not working for me.”

  “The Spartacans don’t believe in body armor, sir. Or heavy weapons, for that matter. Can I see that?”

  Mortas drew the long knife from its sheath, the blackened blade long and sharp. Handing it over while remembering the two times he’d used it, the first in a frenzy and the second without conscious thought. Berland hefted the weapon as if testing its balance.

  “Any idea where I should carry this?”

  “Yeah. The bottom of your ruck for now, and when we get back, I’m thinking it should go in one of your desk drawers.” He handed the knife back. “Or you could hang it on the wall in your room.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sir, all you’re gonna do with that thing is hurt yourself. Seen it before with those commando knives. Me, I try to keep the enemy as far away as possible. If I could, I’d engage them with orbital rockets every time.”

  Mortas was about to object when a loud voice echoed through the bay, “Platoon, atten-­chun!”

  He turned to see Captain Noonan striding toward him, accompanied by the still-­limping Lieutenant Kitrick. The company commander breezily told the men to relax as he went by, but he was followed by expressions that combined curiosity with concern.

  “Lieutenant Mortas, Sergeant Berland, our mission has been scrubbed. The brigade has been ordered to ship out to Fractus, and we will be linking up with them on the way.”

  “Fractus? They’ve been stalemated there close to forever, sir.” Berland’s words came out slowly, and Mortas detected a hint of apprehension.

  “Apparently the stalemate is over.” Noonan nodded at Mortas. “Seems the bad guys found another place to use that new ordnance you encountered on Roanum, the one that turns solid ground into mud. So far they’ve used it to cut off and destroy most of an armored division.

  “Platoon sergeants and platoon leaders assemble in the galley in thirty minutes for a briefing.” Noonan stalked off, but Kitrick stayed behind for a moment.

  “Looks like we’ll be getting our boomers back.” He swatted Mortas’s arm lightly before limping after the commanding officer.

  “Broadcast to begin in three, two —­” The technician mouthed the word “one,” then pointed his index finger directly at Olech. The Chairman of the Emergency Senate was seated behind an impressive wooden desk in a sound stage at Unity that was made up to look like his office. He wore a dark gray tunic with a high collar, and his award for being one of the Unwavering stood out prominently.

  “Hello, and greetings from Earth. I apologize for the unscheduled nature of this address, but I have important news that I would like to share with all of you.” Olech had rehearsed the words several times, and experts on his staff had coached him on his facial expression. His graying hair complemented a businesslike demeanor that was intentionally tinged with subdued cheerfulness.

  “Few experiences are happier than the moment when one of our many heroes returns from military ser­vice. With that said, it has recently come to my attention that a considerable number of enlistments are being extended in the war zone, owing to concerns about possible exposure to the vectors of dangerous illnesses. I personally assure you that the veterans in question are healthy and that they are receiving the attention of our top medical experts. With that said, I must side with the commanders in the field in their decision to err on the side of caution, and to keep those troops in the war zone until a definite conclusion can be reached regarding the potential for carrying foreign pathogens to the settled planets.

  “Every day of this conflict our brave Forcemembers encounter environments that are utterly alien to human experience. Rather than risk transmitting a completely foreign virus, bug, or biological agent to the settled worlds, Force commanders have established camps on conquered habitable planets for the quarantined veterans.

  “Wartime security measures prevent me from disclosing specific locations, but these camps are located on the most desirable of the Habs that have been won for humanity by the blood and sacrifice of your sons and daughters. That was by design, and I laud the cooperation of the planetary councils, the rest of the Emergency Senate, and the highest command levels of our Human Defense Force in providing these troops with such an excellent environment.

  “Sadly, we have no idea how long it may take to clear these brave veterans to return home. Although this is highly unlikely, it is possible that they may never be able to return. And that is why it was vital to place them on resource-­rich planets that will also serve as admirable locations for the founding of new colonies. Words cannot express my humble gratitude for the selfless fashion in which our planetary governments gave up their claims to the bountiful resources of those planets, all in order to give these potential colonies every chance of long-­term success.

  “As Chairman of the Emergency Senate and the commander in chief of all our forces, I feel it is my duty to assist in this noble enterprise. And so I have lifted the burden of administering these colonies from the shoulders of generals and admirals whose primary duty is fighting the continuing war.

  “As most of the troops in question are either past the end of their enlistments or can be expected to be in quarantine past that date, I am placing the management of the new colonies under the Veterans Auxiliary. I promise that the veterans in the new colonies will continue to receive the highest levels of medical care. They will also receive every assistance necessary to guarantee their success should they be required—­or should they choose—­to remain as colonists and the first citizens of what will someday be brilliant, shining additions to our alliance.

  “Needless to say, top priority will be given to establishing a time frame for families to join their loved ones in these new colonies. In the meantime, rest assured that I will be supervising this personally while we move forward as a ­people, as a race, as a family, toward that great day when we will have secured the safety of humanity and returned our worlds to peace. Thank you.”

  “Is this how it’s supposed to go? I do all the work, and you get all the accolades?” Reena stepped up and wrapped her arms around his neck when Olech moved away from the desk. They kissed warmly, enjoying the culmination of yet another plan. The broadcast wouldn’t reach the other planets for some time, but it was too important to be tampered with and so would go through unchanged. No doubt the leadership on certain planets would soon be beaming their own coded messages to the Force commanders they owned in the war zone, but the deed was done. Olech broke the kiss and spoke.

  “You set ’em up, and I knock ’em down.”

  “I’ve knocked a few of them down myself, you know.”

  “I do indeed. I enjoyed the way you handled General Merkit. What do you say I send him to th
e war zone to get some combat experience?”

  “What combat experience would an office politician like him get? You send him out there, and he’ll find a way to take charge of those rich new colonies.”

  “Oh, I’ve got someone else in mind for that.”

  “You can’t be serious. She’s twenty-­three, and she’s been with the Auxiliary less than a year.”

  “Every story the Bounce has ever run on Ayliss has received high approval numbers, especially when she wears the Aux uniform. Besides, it would give her something to do other than taking shots at me.”

  Reena’s face clouded. “You do know that some other ­people are going to want to take a shot at you because of what we did today.”

  “What can they do? They overplayed their hands by stuffing those planets with their own ­people, and they paid for it. They’ve got no alternatives other than to smile and go along. That’s why I didn’t bother consulting them.”

  “That was a nice touch, giving them credit for something they didn’t know about—­and wouldn’t have agreed to, ever.”

  “They’ll be smart enough to take the credit. And maybe next time they won’t try to pull a stunt like this one.”

  “Probably, but there are plenty of other actors in this who don’t care about public opinion, who are going to feel their good buddy Olech Mortas just did them in.”

  “At first, sure. But you know, you gotta shake ­people up every now and then. Otherwise they get complacent, or they take you for granted. I’ll be hearing from some unhappy pals for a bit, but then they’re going to remember who controls the Auxiliary. And then they’ll come to me about the contracts for building these new colonies, and the mining rights, and the shipment of the goodies off-­world, and they’ll find out that we’re still pals.”

  Reena laid her head against his chest. “You know I already warned my brother, right?”

  “You always do. And that’s one reason we never have to worry about Celestia. Your ­people weren’t involved in this nonsense, so it was a smart play to give them a heads-­up, to let them know we consider them grown-­ups.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “You don’t think your brother and his cronies are grown-­ups?”

  “No. I don’t know if we never have to worry about them.”

  The door opened, and Hugh Leeger appeared.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Chairman, but we just received word from Command that the enemy has just used the mud-­creating munition that Jan saw on Roanum. They’ve just launched a fresh offensive on Fractus, and it looks rough.”

  “This is indeed an honor, to have the daughter of Olech Mortas visit our facility!” The man was enormous, with a thick head of gray hair and looming eyebrows. Lines crossed his forehead, and his cheeks showed a day’s worth of dark beard, but his lab coat was immaculate and so was the rest of the site. “Dr. Yost Kletterman. Welcome, welcome.”

  Ayliss shook the proffered hand, trying to give Kletterman her full attention but too excited to keep her eyes from roving. Python had flown them to an unmanned satellite orbiting the planet, part of Command’s effort to keep the site isolated. After docking, they had entered a spherical pod just large enough for the two of them. It was programmed to travel between the satellite and the research site, and that was all. It had shot toward Echo with little warning, tearing through the thick atmosphere in a ball of flame, then slowed itself to land on a flat platform that jutted out from the facility’s lone structure.

  The site was little more than a tall building, a white rectangle with enormous windows set into the side of a lushly forested hill. There were no other signs of civilization anywhere, and a chorus of birds trilled all around as they stood on the platform.

  “We probably should get inside before the pod lifts off,” Python intoned, and Kletterman turned bright eyes in his direction.

  “Python, you rogue! Why didn’t you inform me we were going to have such an august visitor?”

  “She wouldn’t let me.”

  Kletterman chuckled as he took Ayliss’s arm and led her toward the building. The wall facing the platform was solid, and she guessed any windows on this level would be in danger when the pod landed or lifted off. The mechanical orb was steaming away behind them, emitting clicking noises that could be excess heat or preparation for departure. Kletterman talked as he guided her through the open blast doors.

  “I see you and your father share a lot in common, including a love of secrecy.” They passed inside, and the wall closed behind them. Ayliss imagined she heard the pod lifting off, but they were already going around a corner and heading down a flight of stairs. They soon entered a high-­ceilinged, open floor where over a dozen ­people in lab jackets were hard at work. Some sat at various terminals while others were gathered around a hologram that seemed to float over a large table, and huge windows let in light from three sides. Kletterman continued.

  “Please assure the chairman that we are gaining an impressive understanding of our subjects. As planned, we’re almost completely cut off here—­so he needn’t worry about the information going anywhere it should not.”

  The staff ranged from young to middle-­aged, and most of them were seated at consoles of differing sizes. Ayliss caught a glimpse of a graph that appeared to be comparing the chemical compositions of varying substances, and on another screen one of the techs was running a piece of video footage back and forth as if studying a minute gesture by one of the Sim subjects. Several of the researchers greeted Python warmly as they passed.

  Ayliss had just reached the center of the floor when she saw a giant screen many yards overhead. The display was a video feed in full color, shot from above a clearing bordered by heavy forest and the thatched roofs of numerous huts. ­People were moving around in the clearing, some carrying building materials while others were working with hand tools. A circular wall of indeterminate height took up the very center of the clearing, and a long, narrow projection ran from it and disappeared offscreen. Kletterman spoke from behind her.

  “Yes, yes, there they are. Our charges. Remarkable ­people. It is simply amazing to see how well they work together, regardless of the difficulty.”

  “Like ants, huh, Doctor?” Python gave Ayliss a wink.

  “Tsk tsk, Python, you heathen. This is a scientific effort, and we do not use such terms for our subjects.” He pointed at the screen. “See that structure in the center? Of course they located the freshwater spring the first day, but the communal water tank and the aqueduct are both new. They still need to pour the water onto the aqueduct at its source, but it saves them the effort of hauling it all the way to their camp.

  “The spring is not in a good location for dwellings, and they never even attempted to build near it. Amazingly practical ­people, and do you know that they come together every single day for what appear to be group planning sessions from which no member is excluded?”

  Ayliss fought to keep the glee from her voice. “Are they aware that they’re being watched?”

  “Certainly. I was not consulted over the manner in which they were captured and transported, and of course whoever was in charge of that operation was trying not to expose the subjects to human influences of any kind. The subjects were part of a Sim colony that was scheduled for eradication by our forces, but our subjects were located a good distance from the main settlement. I am unclear as to how they were taken, but I was told it involved a gas that rendered them unconscious.

  “Needless to say, when they awakened on the island they knew they’d been deposited in a different location under mysterious circumstances.” Kletterman gave Ayliss a meaningful stare. “Our subjects are not stupid. Additionally, we had deposited an assortment of tools, emergency rations, temporary shelters, and a complete set of seeds captured from other colonies. They made use of all these items immediately, so they must know that some agent placed them here
.”

  The words floated past as if uttered by a ghost. Already Ayliss was imagining the story breaking, the outrage, the scandal. Standing in front of her defeated father, informing him that it was all her doing. She forced her brain to form a pertinent question.

  “Forgive my ignorance, Doctor, but I’ve heard speculation that the Sims might actually have a sort of hive mind. Have you observed anything that supports that?”

  “No forgiveness is necessary; we only learn by asking such questions. I am aware of that theory, but thus far we have seen nothing to suggest they interact in such a way. I mentioned that they hold communal meetings, and it seems unlikely they would need to do that if they shared this ‘hive mind’ suggested by certain ­people. I personally believe the authors of that theory wish to portray the Sims as unthinking beings, and I can assure you from my own observation that they are highly intelligent and analytical.

  “Every one of our subjects has demonstrated a willingness to serve in any capacity necessary, but we have observed that they are broken down into various teams. For example, certain individuals are clearly assigned to handle their water requirements while others are responsible for planting and tending their crops.

  “The males and the females appear to be equal in social stature, and the few conflicts that we have observed were resolved in group consultations.” The meaningful look again. “They are an eminently practical ­people and, if I may be so bold, we could learn much from them as a society.”

  Ayliss shot Python a bland look, which he returned the same way. “I agree, Doctor. I believe your work here is going to prove highly illuminating.”