by John Scalzi
"Oh, stop it," Cloud said. "Give me a minute to take a leak and we'll go. Just keep quiet when we get to the transport and let me do all the talking. And remember if we get in trouble I'm going to blame it all on you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Jared said.
Getting past the transport bay crew was almost ridiculously simple. Jared stuck close to Cloud, who ran through his preflight check and consulted his crew with businesslike efficiency. They ignored Jared or assumed that since he was with Cloud he had every right to be there. Thirty minutes later the transport was easing its way down to Phoenix Station, and Jared was showing Cloud that he wasn't actually very good at losing at Texas hold 'em. This annoyed Cloud greatly.
At the Phoenix Station ground port, Cloud consulted with the ground crew and then came back to Jared. "It's going to take them about three hours to load her up," he said. "Can you get to where you're going and be back before then?"
"The cemetery is just outside Phoenix City," Jared said.
"You should be fine then," Cloud said. "How are you going to get there?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Jared said.
"What?" Cloud said.
Jared shrugged. "I didn't actually think you'd take me," he confessed. "I didn't plan this far ahead."
Cloud laughed. "God loves a fool," he said, and then motioned to Jared. "Come on, then. Let's go meet your brother."
Metairie Catholic Cemetery lay in the heart of Metairie, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Phoenix City; it was around when Phoenix was still called New Virginia and Phoenix City was still Clinton, before the attacks that leveled the early colony and forced humans to regroup and reconquer the planet. The earliest graves in the cemetery dated back to the early days, when Metairie was a line of plastic and mud buildings, and proud Louisianans had settled there with the pretensions of its being Clinton's first suburb.
The graves Jared visited were on the other side of the cemetery from the first line of the dead. The graves were marked by a single headstone, upon which three names were engraved, each with their separate dates: Charles, Cheryl and Zoe Boutin.
"Jesus," Cloud said. "An entire family."
"No," Jared said, kneeling down at the headstone. "Not really. Cheryl is here. Zoe died far away, and her body was lost with many others. And Charles isn't dead. This is someone else. A clone he created so it would look like he had killed himself." Jared reached out and touched the headstone. "There's no family here."
Cloud looked at Jared kneeling by the headstone. "I think I'll take a look around," he said, trying to give Jared some time.
"No," Jared said, and looked over. "Please. I'll be done in just a minute and then we can go." Cloud nodded in assent but looked toward the close-by trees. Jared returned his attention to the headstone.
He lied to Cloud about who he had come to see, because who he wanted to see wasn't here. Outside of a bit of pity, Jared found himself at an emotional loss regarding the poor nameless clone Boutin killed to fake his own death. Nothing in the still-emerging bank of memories Jared shared with Boutin featured the clone in anything but the most clinical of settings, emotional or otherwise; the clone wasn't a person to Boutin, but a means to an end—an end that Jared, naturally enough, had no memory of since the recording of his consciousness was done before Boutin pulled the trigger. Jared tried to feel some sympathy for the clone, but there were others here he had come for. Jared hoped the clone indeed had never woken up and left it at that.
Jared focused on the name Cheryl Boutin and felt muted, conflicted emotions echo back from his memory. Jared realized that while Boutin had affection for his wife, labeling that affection as love would have been overstating the case. The two married because they both wanted children and they both understood and liked being around the other well enough, although Jared sensed that even that emotional attachment had been tamped down by the end. Their mutual joy of their daughter kept them from separation; even their cooled relationship was tolerable and preferable to the mess of a divorce and the trouble it would cause their child.
From some crevasse in Jared's mind came an unexpected memory about Cheryl's death, that on her fatal trip she had not been hiking alone; she had been with a friend who Boutin suspected was her lover. There was no jealousy that Jared could detect. Boutin didn't begrudge her a lover; he had one of his own. But Jared felt the anger Boutin felt at the funeral, when the suspected lover had lingered over the grave too long at the end of the funeral ceremony. It took time away from Boutin's final farewell to his wife. And Zoe's to her mother.
Zoe.
Jared traced her name on the gravestone, and said the name in the place she should have rested but did not, and felt again the grief that spilled from Boutin's memories into his own heart. Jared touched the gravestone once more, felt the name engraved into stone, and wept.
A hand rested on Jared's shoulder; he looked up to see Cloud there.
"It's all right," Cloud said. "We all lose the people we love."
Jared nodded. "I know," he said. "I lost someone I loved. Sarah. I felt her die and then I felt the hole she left inside me. But this is different."
"It's different because it's a child," Cloud said.
"It's a child I never knew," Jared said, and looked up at Cloud again. "She died before I was born. I didn't know her. I couldn't know her. But I do." He gestured to his temples. "Everything about her is in here. I remember her being born. I remember her first steps and her first words. I remember holding her here at her mother's funeral. I remember the last time I saw her. I remember hearing that she was dead. It's all here."
"No one has anyone else's memories," Cloud said. He said it in a way to soothe Jared. "It just doesn't work that way."
Jared laughed, bitterly. "But it does," he said. "It does with me. I told you. I was born to hold someone else's mind. They didn't think that it worked, but it did. And now his memories are my memories. His life is my life. His daughter—"
Jared stopped talking, unable to go on. Cloud kneeled down next to Jared and put an arm around his shoulder and let him mourn.
"It's not fair," Cloud said eventually. "It's not fair you have to mourn this child."
Jared gave a small laugh. "We're in the wrong universe for fair," he said, simply.
"That we are," Cloud agreed.
"I want to mourn her," Jared said. "I feel her. I can feel the love I had for her. That he had for her. I want to remember her, even if that means I have to mourn her. That's not too much to bear for her memory. It's not, is it?"
"No," Cloud said. "I guess it's not."
"Thank you," Jared said. "Thank you for coming with me here. Thank you for helping me."
"That's what friends are for," Cloud said.
::Dirac,:: Jane Sagan said. She was standing behind them. ::You've been reactived**.::
Jared felt the sudden snap of reintegration, and felt Jane Sagan's awareness wash over him, and felt mildly revolted by it even as other parts of him rejoiced at coming back into a larger sense of being. Some part of Jared's brain noted that being integrated wasn't just about sharing information and becoming part of a higher consciousness. It was also about control, a way to keep individuals tied to the group. There was a reason why Special Forces soldiers hardly ever retired—being retired means losing integration. Losing integration means being alone.
Special Forces soldiers were almost never alone. Even when they were by themselves.
::Dirac,:: Sagan said again.
"Speak normally," Jared said, and stood up, still looking away from Sagan. "You're being rude."
There was an infinitesimal pause before Sagan responded. "Very well," she said. "Private Dirac, it's time to go. We're needed back on Phoenix Station."
"Why?" Jared said.
"I'm not going to talk about it in front of him," Sagan said, indicating Cloud. "No offense, Lieutenant."
"None taken," Cloud said.
"Tell me out loud," Jared said. "Or I'm not going."
&nb
sp; "I'm giving you an order," Sagan said.
"And I'm telling you to take your orders and shove them up your ass," Jared said. "I'm suddenly very tired of being part of Special Forces. I'm tired of being shoved around from place to place. Unless you tell me where I'm going and why, I think I'm just staying right here."
Sagan audibly sighed. She turned to Cloud. "Believe me when I tell you that if any of this passes your lips, I will shoot you myself. At very close range."
"Lady," Cloud said. "I believe every word you say."
"Three hours ago the Redhawk was destroyed by the Obin," Sagan said. "It managed to launch a Skip drone before it was totally destroyed. We've lost two other ships in the last two days; they've entirely disappeared. We think the Obin tried to do the same with the Redhawk but weren't able to do it for whatever reason. We got lucky, if you want to call this lucky. Between these three ships and four other Special Forces ships that have disappeared in the last month, it's clear the Obin are targeting Special Forces."
"Why?" Jared said
"We don't know," Sagan said. "But General Szilard has decided we're not going to wait until more of our ships get attacked. We going in to get Boutin, Dirac. We move in twelve hours."
"That's crazy," Jared said. "All we know is that he's on Arist. That's an entire moon to look at. And no matter how many ships we use, we'll be attacking the Obin home system."
"We know where he is on Arist," Sagan said. "And we have a plan to get past the Obin to get him."
"How?"
"That I'm not saying out loud," Sagan said. "It's the end of discussion, Dirac. Come with me or don't. We've got twelve hours until the attack begins. You've already caused me to waste time coming down here to get you. Don't let's waste any more time getting back."
ELEVEN
Goddamn it, General, Jane Sagan thought, as she tracked through the Kite, heading toward the landing bay control room. Stop hiding from me, you officious prick. She took care not to actually send the thought in the conversational mode of the Special Forces. Because of the similarity between thinking and speaking for Special Forces members, nearly every one of them had had a "did I say that out loud" moment or two. But that particular thought spoken aloud would be more trouble than it was worth.
Sagan had been on the hunt for General Szilard since the moment she had gotten the order to retrieve Jared Dirac from his AWOL adventure on Phoenix. The order had come with the notice that Dirac was once again under her command, and with a set of classified memos from Colonel Robbins detailing the latest events in Dirac's life: his trip to Covell, his sudden memory dump and the fact that his consciousness pattern was now definitively that of Charles Boutin. In addition to this material was a note forwarded by Robbins, from General Mattson to Szilard, in which Mattson strongly urged Szilard not to return Dirac to active duty, suggesting he be detained at least until the upcoming round of hostilities featuring the Obin was settled one way or another.
Sagan thought General Mattson was a jackass, but she had to admit he'd hit the nail on the head. Sagan had never been comfortable with Dirac under her command. He'd been a good and competent soldier, but knowing he had a second consciousness in his skull waiting to leak down and contaminate the first made her wary, and aware of the chance that he'd crack on the mission and get someone killed besides himself. Sagan considered it a victory that when he did crack, that day on the Phoenix Station promenade, he was on shore leave. And it wasn't until Mattson swooped in to relieve her of further responsibility toward Dirac that she allowed herself to feel pity for him, and to recognize that he had never justified the suspicion she held him in.
That was then, Sagan thought. Now Dirac was back and he was certifiably around the bend. It had taken most of her will not to tear him a new asshole when he had been insubordinate on Phoenix; if she had had the stun pistol she used on him when he originally cracked, she would have shot him in the head a second time just to make the point that his transplanted attitude didn't impress her. As it was she could barely remain civil to him on the ride back, this time by fast courier shuttle, directly to the Kite's bay. Szilard was on board, conferring with Kite commander Major Crick. The general had ignored Sagan's earlier hails when she was on the Kite and he was on Phoenix Station, but now that the two of them were on the same ship, she was prepared to block his path until she had her say. She marched herself up the stairwell, two steps at a time, and opened the door to the control room.
::I knew you were coming,:: Szilard said to her, as she entered the room. He was sitting in front of the control panel that operated the bay. The officer that operated the bay could do nearly all his tasks via BrainPal, of course, and usually did. The control panel was there as a backup. When it got right down to it, all the ship controls were essentially BrainPal backups.
::Of course you knew I was coming,:: Sagan said. ::You're the commander of the Special Forces. You can locate any of us from our BrainPal signal.::
::It wasn't that,:: Szilard said. ::I just know who you are. The possibility of you not coming to find me once I put Dirac back under your command didn't even cross my mind.:: Szilard turned his chair slightly and stretched out his legs. ::I was so confident you were coming that I even cleared out the room so we'd have some privacy. And here we are.::
::Permission to speak freely,:: Sagan asked.
::Of course,:: Szilard said.
::You're out of your goddamned mind, sir,:: Sagan said.
Szilard laughed out loud. ::I didn't expect you to speak that freely, Lieutenant,:: he said.
::You've seen the same reports I have,:: Sagan said. ::I know you're aware of how much Dirac is like Boutin now. Even his brain works the same. And yet you want to put him on a mission to find Boutin.::
::Yes,:: Szilard said.
"Christ!" Sagan said, out loud. Special Forces speak was fast and efficient but it wasn't very good for exclamations. Nevertheless, Sagan backed herself up, sending a wave of frustration and irritation toward General Szilard, which he accepted wordlessly. ::I don't want responsibility for him,:: Sagan said, finally.
::I don't remember asking you if you wanted the responsibility,:: Szilard said.
::He's a danger to the other soldiers in my platoon,:: Sagan said. ::And he's a danger to the mission. You know what it means if we don't succeed. We don't need the additional risk.::
::I disagree,:: Szilard said.
::For God's sake,:: Sagan said. "Why?::
::"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,":: Szilard said.
::What?:: Sagan said. She was suddenly reminded of a conversation with Cainen, months before, when he had said the same thing.
Szilard repeated the saying, then said, ::We have the enemy as close as he can possibly get. He's in our ranks, and he doesn't know he's the enemy. Dirac thinks he's one of us because as far as he knows he is. But now he thinks like our enemy thinks and acts like our enemy acts, and we'll know everything he knows. That's incredibly useful and it's worth the risk.::
::Unless he turns,:: Sagan said.
::You'll know it if he does,:: Szilard said. "He's integrated with your whole platoon. The minute he acts against your interests you'll know about it and so will everyone else on the mission.::
::Integration isn't mind reading,:: Sagan said. ::We'll only know after he starts doing something. That means he could kill one of my soldiers or give away our positions or any number of other things. Even with integration he's still a real danger.::
::You're right about one thing, Lieutenant,: Szilard said. "Integration isn't mind reading. Unless you have the right firmware.::
Sagan felt a ping in her communication queue: an upgrade to her BrainPal. Before she could give assent it began to unpack. Sagan felt an uncomfortable jolt as the upgrade propagated, causing a momentary flux in her brain's electrical patterns.
::What the hell was that?:: Sagan asked.
"That was the mind-reading upgrade,:: Szilard said. "Usually only generals and certain very specialized military inv
estigators get this one, but in your case, I think it's warranted. For this mission, anyway. Once you're back we're going to yank it back out, and if you ever speak about it to anyone we'll have to put you somewhere very small and distant.::
::I don't understand how this is possible,:: Sagan said.
Szilard made a face. "Think about it, Lieutenant,:: he said. ::Think about how we're communicating. We're thinking, and our BrainPal is interpreting that we are choosing to speak to someone else when we do so. Outside of intent, there is no significant difference between our public thoughts and our private ones. What would be remarkable is if we couldn't read minds. It's what the BrainPal is supposed to do.::
::But you don't tell people that,:: Sagan said.
Szilard shrugged. ::No one wants to know they have no privacy, even in their own heads.::
::So you can read my private thoughts,:: Sagan said.
::You mean, like the one where you called me an officious prick?:: Szilard asked.
::There was context for that,:: Sagan said.
::There always is,:: Szilard said. "Relax, Lieutenant. Yes, I can read your thoughts. I can read the thoughts of anyone who is in my command structure. But usually I don't. It's not necessary and most of the time it's almost completely useless anyway.::
::But you can read people's thoughts,:: Sagan said.
::Yes, but most people are boring,:: Szilard said. ::When I first got the upgrade, after I was put in command of the Special Forces, I spent an entire day listening to people's thoughts. You know what the vast majority of people are thinking the vast majority of the time? They're thinking, I'm hungry. Or, I need to take a dump. Or, I want to fuck that guy. And then it's back to I'm hungry. And then they repeat the sequence until they die. Trust me, Lieutenant. A day with this capability and your opinion of the complexity and wonder of the human mind will suffer an irreversible decline.::
Sagan smiled. ::If you say so,:: she said.
::I do say so,:: Szilard said. ".However, in your case this capability will be of actual use, because you'll be able to hear Dirac's thoughts and feel his private emotions without him knowing he's being observed. If he is thinking of treason, you'll know it almost before he does. You can react to it before Dirac kills one of your soldiers or compromises your mission. I think that's a sufficient check to the risk of bringing him along.::
