by John Scalzi
"I may not have the authority," I said. "But I have the right."
"You don't know what you're doing," Rybicki said.
"I think I do," I said. "I'm changing the world."
Out the window another ship popped into view. I raised my PDA; on the screen was a simple representation of Earth. Around the glowing circle dots appeared, singly, doubly, in groups and in constellations. And when they all arrived, they began broadcasting, all of then, a message of welcome, in as many human languages as could receive them, and a stream of data, unencrypted, catching up Earth on decades of history and technology. The truth, as near as I could tell it. My gift to the world that had been my home, and which I hoped would be again.
SIXTEEN
I didn't recognize him at first. Partly this was because of where I was seeing him. It was odd enough that I would be on the steps of the U.S. House of Representatives; to see him there was entirely unexpected. It was also partly because he looked rather older than I remembered him being.
And partly because he wasn't green.
"General Szilard," I said. "This is a surprise."
"It was intended to be," he said.
"You look different," I said.
"Yes, well," Szilard said. "Now that the Colonial Union has to deal with human governments here on Earth, one of the things we've discovered is that the politicians here don't take us very seriously if we look like we usually do."
"It's not easy being green," I said.
"Indeed not," Szilard said. "So I've made myself look older and pinker. It seems to be working."
"I assume you're not telling them that you're not old enough to rent a car," I said.
"I don't see the need to confuse them any more than they are," Szilard said. "Do you have a minute? There are things to say."
"I'm done with my testifying for today," I said. "I have time."
Szilard looked around me in an exaggerated fashion. "Where's your mob of reporters?"
"Oh, that," I said. "General Gau's testifying before the Senate Intelligence Committee today. I was just talking to a House agricultural subcommittee. There was a single public access camera there and that was it. It's been months since anyone bothered to follow me around, anyway. Aliens are more interesting."
"How the mighty have fallen," Szilard said.
"I don't mind," I said. "It was nice to be on magazine covers for a while, but it gets old. Do you want to walk?"
"By all means," Szilard said. We set off in the direction of the Mall. Occasionally someone would glance my way—off magazine covers or not, I was still all-too-recognizable—but residents of D.C. were proudly jaded regarding famous politicians, which I now suppose I was, for lack of a better term.
"If you don't mind me asking, General," I said, "why are you here?"
"I'm lobbying senators today," Szilard said. "The U.S. moratorium on CDF recruiting is a problem. The U.S. always accounted for the bulk of our recruits. This was why it was never a problem when other countries forbade their citizens from signing up; their contributions were trivial. But without the U.S. we're not meeting recruitment goals, especially now that so many other countries also have recruiting moratoriums."
"I know about the moratorium," I said. "I'm asking why you."
"I seem to be good at speaking the politicians' language," Szilard said. "Apparently there's an advantage around here to being mildly socially retarded, and that's the Special Forces for sure."
"Do you think you'll get the moratorium lifted?" I asked.
Szilard shrugged. "It's complicated," he said. "Everything's complicated because at the end of the day the Colonial Union has kept Earth in the dark for so long. You came along and told everyone here how much they've been missing out on. They're angry. The question is whether they're ultimately angry enough to side with the Conclave instead of other humans."
"When's the vote?" I said.
"Three weeks," Szilard said.
"Should be interesting," I said.
"I understand there's a curse about living in interesting times," Szilard said.
We walked silently for a few minutes.
"What I'm saying to you now comes from me alone," Szilard said. "So we're clear on that."
"All right," I said.
"First, I want to thank you," he said. "I never thought I'd ever get to visit Earth. If you hadn't completely fucked up the Colonial Union's way of doing things, I never would have. So thanks for that."
I found it very difficult to hide my amusement. "You're welcome,' I said.
"Second, I need to apologize to you."
"Ycu need to apologize to Jane, General," I said. "She's the one you altered."
"I altered her, but I used you both," Szilard said.
"Ycu said you did it to keep humanity alive," I said. "I'm not thrilled about being used by you or anyone else, but at least I have more sympathy for your goal."
"I wasn't entirely honest with you," Szilard said. "Yes, I worried aoout the Colonial Union causing the eradication of the human race. Trying to stop that was my primary goal. But I had another goal as well. A selfish goal."
"What is it?" I said.
"Special Forces are second-class citizens in the Colonial Union," Szilard said. "We always have been. We're needed but not trusted.
We do the difficult work of keeping the Colonial Union alive—it was we who destroyed the Conclave fleet, but our reward is only more work, more responsibility. I wanted a way to make the Colonial Unicn recognize my people, and how important we are to the Union. And the answer was you."
"Me," I said. "You said that we were chosen because of Jane and Zoe,not me."
"I lied," Szilard said. "You all hac your part to play. Jane and Zoe's were the most critical to keeping humanity alive, yes. But your pari was critical to my goal."
"I don't see how," I said.
"Because you're the one who would get indignant at being used," Szilard said. "Lieutenant Sagan no doubt got angry at how she and Roanoke were manipulated for the Colonial Union's ends. But her solution is to deal directly with the immediate problem. Tha:'s how she was trained. Direct-line thinking. Your wife is many things, Perry, but subtle is not one of them. You, on the other hand. You would stew. You would look for a long-term solution, to punish those who used you, and to make sure that humanity wouldn't face the same threat twice."
"Bringing the Conclave here to Earth," I said. "Cutting off the Colonial Union's supply of soldiers."
"We saw it as a possibility," Szilard said. "A small one. But a real one. And as a consequence the Colonial Union would need to fall back on its ready source of military power. Us."
"There are always the colonists," I said.
"The colonists haven't fought their own wars for nearly two centuries," Szilard said. "It would be a disaster. Sooner or later it comes down to the Special Forces."
"But you're here lobbying to end the recruiting moratorium," I said.
"The last time we had a conversation I told you the reason I let my Special Forces soldiers be used to destroy the Conclave fleet," Szilard said.
"So you could stay in control of the situation," I said.
Szilard spread his hands as if to say, And so.
"I'm having a hard time believing you planned for this," I said.
"I planned none of it," Szilard said. "I left open the possibility it might occur, and was ready to act on it if it did. I certainly didn't expect you to do what you ended up doing. Trade ships. That's weird thinking. I would have expected another armada."
"I'm happy to surprise you," I said.
"I'm sure you are," Szilard said. "And now let me return the favor to you. I know Lieutenant Sagan has yet to forgive me for altering her."
"She hasn't forgiven you," I agreed. "It took her a long time to get used to being human, and you took it away from her."
"Then tell her this," Szilard said. "She was a prototype. A version of Special Forces soldier designed entirely from the human genome. She is one hundred perce
nt human, right down to the number of chromosomes. She's better than human, of course, but human all the same. She never stopped being human through any of this."
"She has a BrainPal in her head," I said.
"We're particularly proud of that," Szilard said. "The most recent generation of BrainPals were largely organic as it was. It took a substantial amount of tweaking to get one to generate out of the human genome. She was the first to have a wholly integrated, human BrainPal.''
"Why did you test it on her?" I asked.
"Because I knew she would need it, and I knew she valued her humanity," Szilard said. "I wanted to honor both, and the technology was ready to be tested. Tell her I am sorry I wasn't able to tell her this before now. I had my reasons for not wanting the technology to be common knowledge."
I looked at Szilard closely. "You're using the same technology now, aren't you," I said.
"I am," Sziard said. "For the first time I am entirely human. As human as anyone. And in time every member of Special Forces will be the same. It matters. It matters to who we are, and for what we can become to the Colonial Union and to humanity. Let Jane know, Perry. She is the first of us. The most human of us. Let her know."
Not long after, I took Jane to meet Kathy.
My Ohio hometown was as I had left it, almost two decades before, only slightly worse for wear. We drove up the long driveway of my old house to find my son Charlie, his family and every person I was even tangentially related to waiting for us. I had seen Charlie twice since my return, when he had visited Washington, D.C., to see me. We had been able to get over the shock of me appearing decades younger than he, and he had been able to get over the shock of Jane looking so much like his own mother. For everyone else, however, it was an awkward first.
It would have kept being so if Zoe hadn't dived in and broke the ice, starting with Charlie's son Adam, who Zoe demanded call her "Aunt Zoe," even though she was younger than he was. Slowly our clan began to warm to us, and to me. I was filled in on all the gossip of the last double decade. Jane was told stories of Kathy she had never known before. Zoe was fussed on by old relatives and moony teenage boys alike. Savitri told Charlie jokes about my days as ombudsman. Hickory and Dickory tolerated being curiosities.
As the sun sank in the sky, Jane and I gave Zoe a quick kiss and slipped away, walking east on my county road to Harris Creek Cemetery, and to the simple marker that held my wife's name.
"Katharine Rebecca Perry," Jane read, kneeling.
"That's right," I said.
"You're crying," Jane said, not looking back. "I can hear it in your voice."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I just never thought I would be back here."
Jane looked back. "I didn't mean for this to hurt you," she said.
"It's all right," I said. "It's supposed to hurt. And I wanted you to meet her. I wanted to be here when you did."
"You still love her," Jane said, looking back down at the marker.
"I do," I said. "I hope you don't mind."
"I'm part of her," Jane said. "She's part of me. When you love her, you love me. I don't mind that you keep loving her. I hope you do. I hope you always do."
I reached out a hand to her; she took it. We stayed that way, silent at my wife's grave, for a very long time.
"Look at the stars," Jane said, finally.
"There's the Big Dipper," I said, pointing.
Jane nodded. "I see it."
I wrapped my arms around Jane. "I remember you said on Huckleberry that it was when you finally saw the constellations that you knew you were home."
"I remember saying that," Jane said.
"Is it still true?" I asked.
"It is," Jane said, and turned to face me. "I'm home. We're home."
I kissed my wife.
"The Milky Way," she said, looking up, after we broke our kiss.
"Yes," I said, looking up myself. "You can see it really well from here. That's one of the reasons I liked living in a little country town. In the cities the light drowns it out. But here, you can see it. Although I imagine with your eyes, you're getting quite a show."
"It's beautiful," Jane said.
"That reminds me," I said, and told her what General Szilard said about her being the first entirely human Special Forces soldier. "Interesting," she said.
"So you're completely human after all," I said. "I know," Jane said. "I figured it out already."
"Really" I said. "I'd like to know how."
"I'm pregnant," Jane said, and smiled.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With this book we've reached the end of our journeys with John Perry and Jane Sagan. I like to think they go on. But they go on without us. It's possible I'll return one day to this universe, to explore other corners of it, and to see how it has changed through the events of this book. For the moment, however, I'm stepping back, to explore other places and people. I hope you don't mind.
I'd like to thank each of you who have taken this journey with me, whether this is your first encounter with this universe, or whether you came through all three books to arrive here. One of the great joys of writing this series has been hearing the feedback and reading the mail from those of you who have thanked me for writing these books and encouraged (and in some cases, demanded) that I get off my ass and write the next one. You sure do know how to make a writer feel good.
I have been immensely fortunate through these books to have Patrick Nielsen Hayden as my editor. Patrick's practical sense of the science fiction book industry is matched by his aspirations for the books he shepherds; I have benefited from both.
And in particular, this book benefited from Patrick's patience, as I tore out entire chapters and pushed certain annoying characters none of the rest of you will ever meet down wells, all of which extended the time required to finish the book. Patrick didn't complain (much). I deeply appreciate that faith. Many thanks also to Tom Doherty, whose encouragement through this series has meant an incredible amount to me.
Other folks at Tor to whom I owe more thanks than I can express: Teresa Nielsen Hayden, Liz Gorinsky, Irene Gallo, Dot Lin and Tor's merciless marketing folks. Thanks are also in order for John Harris, who once again has done a kick-ass cover, to copy editor Justine Gardner, who makes it look like I actually know grammar and spelling, and to Nicole de las Heras for interior book design. All I did was write the book; these folks made it look good. Thanks also to Ethan Ellenberg, my invaluable agent.
Friends helped keep me sane as I wrestled this book to the ground. Among them: Nick Sagan, who shared deadline misery as we were both finishing our books, as did Justine Larbalestier. In both cases you should seek out their books to find out what you were missing. Other friends who helped me keep my head screwed on and otherwise made sure I had sufficient human contact: Scott Westerfeld, Doselle and Janine Young, Deven De-sai, Anne KG Murphy and Karen Meisner. There are so many other people I'd like to single out and thank, particularly in the science fiction writing community, but really, we would be here all day if I did, so if you think I should be thanking you (and there are many of you I should thank), please do assume I'm talking about you here. I'd also make special mention of the readers of my blogs, Whatever and By the Way, for their daily encouragement to get my work done, even if it meant posting less at the blogs.
During the writing of the The Last Colony I was nominated for and wen the John W. Campbell Award for best new writer in science fiction. I was nominated with Sarah Monette, Chris Rober-son, Brandon Sanderson, K. J. Bishop and Steph Swainston, and was fortunate enough to become friends with Sarah, Chris and Brandon. The suggestion that I'm a better writer than any of these folks is a flattering lie, and I encourage you to look up their work the next time you're in a bookstore or book-buying online. You won't be disappointed.
I killed off a character named Joseph Loong in this book; the real Joseph Loong, with whom I work at AOL, I wish a long and happy life, and I thank him for letting me use his name. Lieutenant Stross in the book is an obvio
us tuckerization of Charles Stross, the unspeakably talented science fiction writer, and also a friend of mine. The real Stross is not as spacey as the one I put in the book. General Rybicki is named for Joe Rybicki, my longtime friend and editor. I hope he likes his character.
Yet again, many thanks to Regan Avery, who continues to be my frontline reader, and helps make my books better. She's been my frontline reader for a decade now; I consider her my lucky charm.
Finally, thanks to Kristine and Athena Scalzi, my wife and daughter, respectively, and especially to Kristine. Those people who know Kristine and me have suggested that Jane Sagan is rather obviously modeled after Kristine. There is only so far the comparison goes—as far as I know my wife has not taken out entire platoons of soldiers armed only with knives—but it is a fact that Jane's intelligence, strength and personal character are based on my wife's own intelligence, strength and personal character. To be blunt about it, my wife totally rocks. She also is kind enough not only to put up with me but to encourage me, support me and love me. I am lucky to be with her. I dedicate this entire series to her—Old Man's War, The Ghost Brigades and The Last Colony. These are her books. I just wrote them.
John Scalzi
September 20, 2006
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