The Ghost Brigades omw-2

by John Scalzi

  Boutin looked over to his old body, which was brain-dead but still breathing; it would die of its own accord in a few hours or a day at most. Boutin would use this new body's capabilities to record its death and then take the evidence with him to the capture pod, along with his daughter. If the pod's still there, he quickly amended; it was clear that the Special Forces squad they had captured had somehow escaped. One of them might have taken it back. Well, Boutin thought, that's fine. He was already spinning an alternative story in his head, one in which he—as Dirac—killed Boutin. The Obin, denied their prize of consciousness, would stop the war and give Dirac permission to leave with Boutin's body and Zoe.

  Hmmmm, that's not quite believable, Boutin thought. He'd have to work out the details. Whatever story he thought of, however—

  Boutin suddenly became aware of a small image flitting across his field of vision. It was a picture of an envelope.

  You have a message from Jared Dirac, read a block of text that appeared in the bottom of his field of view. To open it, say "open."

  "Open," Boutin said out loud. This was curious.

  The envelope opened and then faded. Rather than a text message, it was a voice message.

  "Hello, Boutin," it said, in a simulated voice that sounded just like Dirac—sounded just like him now, actually, Boutin corrected. "I see that you have gone ahead and taken this body. But before I go, I thought I'd just leave you some final thoughts.

  "A wise creature once told me that it was important to make choices," the voice continued. "Through much of my short life I made no choices at all, or at least no choices of consequence. But now at the end of my life, I am faced with a choice. I can't choose whether to live or die—you have made that choice for me. But when you told me that I had no choice but to help you with your plans, you made a mistake. I do have a choice, and I've made it.

  "My choice is not to help you. I can't judge whether the Colonial Union is the best government for humanity; I didn't have the time to learn everything I should have learned about it. But I choose not to risk the deaths of millions or even billions by helping you engineer its overthrow. It may be that this will ultimately be the wrong decision to have made. But it is my decision, the one I think that best allows me to do what I was born to do. To keep humanity safe.

  "There is some irony here, Boutin, in that you and I share so many of the same thoughts, share a common consciousness, and perhaps share the same goal of doing the best for our people— and yet with all we have in common, we have reached opposite conclusions on how to do that. I wish we had had more time between us, that I had been able to meet you as a friend and a brother instead of what I became to you, a vessel to pour yourself into. It's too late for that now. Too late for me, and although you don't realize it, too late for you also.

  "Be that as it may, I want to thank you. For better or for worse, I was alive because of you, and for a brief time, I was able to experience the joys and sorrows this life has to offer. And I was able to meet and love Zoe, who I pray now will find a way to be safe. I owe you my life, Charles, just as I owe you my death.

  "Now, allow me a digression, which I promise will come around to a compelling point. As you may or may not know, one of the interesting properties SmartBlood has is the ability to instantly oxidize—to combust. I can't help but think someone encoded that property into SmartBlood as something of a cruel joke, because I first saw it being used to kill insects that were trying to suck SmartBlood out of a Special Forces soldier. But it turned out to be useful too—it once saved my life in combat.

  "Charles, you have engineered a virus that you plan to use to conquer the Colonial Union. Since you know about viruses as they relate to computers, maybe you've heard of the term Trojan horse as well. This message, my friend and brother, is a Trojan horse. When you opened the letter, you also executed a small program I created. The program instructs every nanobot in my SmartBlood to combust simultaneously on my command. I estimate it's taken exactly this long for the program to propagate through all of my SmartBlood.

  "Let's find out."

  Sagan received a message as she was placing Zoe into the capture pod. It was from Jared Dirac.

  ::If you're reading this, Charles Boutin is dead,:: it said. ::I had this message scheduled to be sent right after my former BrainPal executed a program to combust my SmartBlood. If the combustion doesn't kill him—and it will—he'll be dead of asphyxiation in just a few minutes. Either way, he's gone and so am I. I don't know if you'll get it but I hope you do, and that you are safe and well. Good-bye, Lieutenant Sagan. I'm glad to have known you. And if you see Cainen again, tell him I listened to him and made my choice.::

  Sagan shared the message with Harvey. "Very nice,:: Harvey said. ::He was Special Forces through and through.::

  ::Yes, he was,:: Sagan said, and motioned Harvey toward the capture pod. "Get in, Harvey::

  ::You're joking,:: Harvey said.

  "Someone needs to go back with Zoe',:: Sagan said. ::I'm commanding officer. I stay behind.::

  "Lieutenant,:: Harvey said. "That kid doesn't know me. You're the one who pulled her out of there. You're the one who needs to go back with her. And besides, I don't want to go back yet. I'm having too much fun. I'm guessing that between now and the time the Colonial Union drops a rock on this place I can clean it out. And when I'm done with that maybe I'll go in and see if there's anything worth salvaging. So you go ahead, Sagan. Have them send a capture pod for me in a couple of days. I'll be fine, or I'll be dead. Either way I'll enjoy myself.::

  ::All right,:: Sagan said. ::If you do go into the compound again, try to get the storage devices from the transfer module in Boutin's lab. Make it a priority.::

  ::What's on them?:: Harvey said.

  ::It's not what,:: Sagan said. ::It's who.::

  There was a hum in the distance. "They're on to us,:: Harvey said. "Get in, Lieutenant::

  "Are we safe now?" Zoe asked, a few minutes after launch.

  "Yes, Zoe," Sagan said. "I think we are."

  "When is Daddy coming to see me?" Zoe said.

  "I don't know, Zoe," Sagan said, and stroked Zoe's hair. "I don't know."

  In the cramped confines of the capture pod, Zoe put her arms up to be held. Sagan held her.

  FIFTEEN

  "Well, Szi, you were right," General Mattson said. "Jared Dirac came in handy after all."

  Mattson, General Szilard and Colonel Robbins were in the general's mess, eating lunch. All of them, this time: General Mattson had been the one to formally break the tradition of not letting subordinates eat by ordering Rob-bins a huge plate of spaghetti Bolognese, and responding to another outraged general's reaction by saying, clearly and loudly, "Shut the fuck up, you dried-up turd. This man deserves some goddamned pasta." Since then, other generals had begun to bring in their staffs as well.

  "Thank you, General," Szilard said. "Now, if you don't mind, what I want to know is what you're doing to fix these problems with our BrainPals. I lost seven ships because your people left a back door wide open."

  "Robbins has the details," Mattson said. They both turned to Robbins, who had a mouthful of beef Wellington. Robbins swallowed carefully.

  "In the short run, we pulled out that back door, obviously," Robbins said. "We've propagated the fix on a priority upgrade to the BrainPals. That's fixed. In the slightly longer run, we're going through all the BrainPal programming looking for legacy code, back doors and other code that could represent a security issue. And we're also instituting virus checks for messages and information sent between BrainPals. Boutin's virus transmission wouldn't work now."

  "It shouldn't have worked at all," Szilard said. "There have been virus blockers since right near the dawn of computing and you didn't implement it for BrainPals. You could have killed us all because you forgot to program in basic computer hygiene."

  "It was never programmed in because there was never a need for it," Mattson said. "BrainPals are a closed system, totally secure from outside attack
s. Even Boutin's attack ultimately didn't work."

  "But it came damn close," Szilard said.

  "Yes, well, it came damn close because someone at the table wanted to create a body we could stuff Charles Boutin's consciousness in," Mattson said. "Not that I'm going to name names."

  "Hmmmm," Szilard said.

  "The current series of BrainPals are coming to a close anyway," Robbins said. "Our next generation of BrainPals have been tested by the Gamerans and they're ready to be implemented across the CDF population. It's a completely different architecture, fully organic, and the code is optimized, without the legacy issues of earlier BrainPal code. The window is closing on this sort of attack, General."

  "At least by anyone who worked on the previous generation," Szilard said. "But what about those who are working on the current generation? You need to find out whether any of them are going to go off the ranch."

  "We'll look into it," Robbins said.

  "See that you do," Szilard said.

  "Speaking of off the ranch," Mattson said. "What are you going to do about Lieutenant Sagan?"

  "What do you mean?" Szilard said.

  "Not to put too fine a point on it, she knows too much," Matt-son said. "Through Boutin and Dirac, she knows about the Conclave and she knows how tightly we're keeping that information bottled up. She doesn't have clearance for that information, Szi. That's dangerous stuff."

  "I don't see why it's dangerous," Szilard said. "If for no other reason than it's the truth. The Conclave is out there. And if it ever gets its act together, we're going to find ourselves up the proverbial creek."

  "It's dangerous because it's not the whole truth, and you know that, Szi," Mattson said. "Boutin didn't know anything about the Counter-Conclave and how deeply we're involved with that, and how we've been playing one side against the other. Things are moving fast. We're getting to the point where alliances have to be formed and choices will have to be made. We won't be able to formally stay neutral anymore. We don't need Sagan out there telling people half the story and starting rumors."

  "Then tell her the whole damn story," Szilard said. "She's an intelligence officer, for God's sake. She can handle the truth."

  "It's not up to me," Mattson said. Szilard opened his mouth; Mattson put up both hands. "It's not up to me, Szi. If the Counter-Conclave formally breaks with the Conclave, you know what that's going to mean. The entire goddamn galaxy is going to be at war. We won't just be able to rely on our recruits from Earth anymore. We're going to have to ask the colonies to pony up as well. We may even have to start conscription. And you know what that's going to mean. The colonies will riot. We'll be lucky if we avoid a civil war. We're keeping the information from the colonies not because we want to keep them ignorant but because we don't want the whole fucking Union to fly apart."

  "The longer we wait, the worse it's going to get," Szilard said. "We're never going to find a good way to break it to the colonies. And when they do find out, they're going to wonder what the hell the CU was doing keeping it from them for so long."

  "It's not up to me," Mattson said.

  "Yes, yes," Szilard said, testily. "Fortunately for you there's a way out. Sagan is close to the end of her term of service. She has a few months left, I think. Maybe a year. Close enough that we can retire her. From what I understand she was planning to leave the service when her time was up anyway. We'll put her on a brand-new colony and there she can stay, and if she talks to the neighbors about some Conclave, who the hell cares. They'll be too busy trying to get a crop in."

  "Do you think you'll get her to do it?" Mattson said.

  "We can entice her," Szilard said. "A couple of years ago, Sagan became quite attached to a CDF soldier named John Perry. Perry's a few years behind her in his term of service, but if we needed to we could spring him early. And it seems like she's become quite attached to Zoe Boutin, who is an orphan and who needs to be placed. You see where I'm going here."

  "I can," Mattson said. "You should make it happen."

  "I'll see what I can do," Szilard said. "And speaking of secrets, how are your negotiations with the Obin going?"

  Both Mattson and Robbins looked at Szilard warily. "There are no negotiations with the Obin," Robbins said.

  "Of course not," Szilard said. "You're not negotiating with the Obin to continue Boutin's consciousness program for them. And the Obin are not negotiating with us to knock down whichever of the Rraey or Eneshans is still left standing after their upcoming little war. No one's negotiating with anyone about anything. And how are these non-negotiations not going?"

  Robbins looked at Mattson, who nodded. "They're not going surprisingly well," Robbins said. "We probably won't reach an agreement in the next couple of days."

  "How not wonderful," Szilard said.

  "I want to get back to Sagan," Mattson said. "When do you think you'll be able to get an answer from her?"

  "I'll put it to her today," Szilard said. "And I'll tell her to be ready in a week. That should give her time to take care of things that need to be done."

  "Like what?" Mattson said.

  "Good-byes and closure, of course," Szilard said. "And a few other decisions I am going to ask her to make."

  Jane Sagan peered into what looked like a miniature light show. "What is this?" she asked.

  "It's Jared Dirac's soul," Cainen said.

  Sagan glanced over to him. "I remember you once told me that Special Forces soldiers didn't have souls," she said.

  "That was another place, and another time," Cainen said. "And I am not so very foolish now. But very well, it's his consciousness, then," Cainen said. "Retrieved by one of your soldiers, I believe, and from what I understand recorded by Charles Boutin. And I understand it is your job to decide what to do with it."

  Sagan nodded. Szilard had come to her, offering her discharge, the discharge of John Perry and the custodianship of Zoe Boutin, on the condition that she keep her mouth shut about the Conclave and that she make a decision about what to do with Jared Dirac's consciousness.

  ::I understand about the Conclave,:: Sagan said. ::But I don't understand about Dirac.::

  ::I'm just curious what you'll do,:: Szilard said, and refused to explain it any further than that.

  "What will you do with it?" Cainen asked.

  "What do you think I should do?" Sagan asked.

  "I know precisely what you should do with it," Cainen said. "But I am not you and I will not tell you what I would do with it until I hear what you would do with it first."

  Sagan looked over at Harry Wilson, who was watching with interest. "And what would you do, Harry?"

  "Sorry, Jane," Wilson said, and smiled. "I plead the Fifth as well. This is your call."

  "You could bring him back," Sagan said to Cainen.

  "It's possible," Cainen said. "We know more about it now than we did before. It's possible we could condition the brain better than they conditioned Dirac's brain to accept Boutin's personality. There's some risk of the transfer not taking, and then you'd have a situation like what happened with Dirac, where another personality would grow instead, and the other personality would slowly impinge. But I think it's less of a risk now, and in time, it won't be a serious risk at all. I think we could bring him back, if that's what you wanted."

  "But it's not what Jared wanted, is it?" Sagan said. "He knew his consciousness had been recorded. He could have asked me to try to save it. He didn't."

  "No, he didn't," Cainen agreed.

  "Jared made his choice," Sagan said. "And it was his choice to make. Erase the recording, please, Cainen."

  "And now you see why I know you have a soul," Cainen said. "Please accept my apology that I ever doubted it."

  "Apology unneeded," Sagan said. "But apology accepted."

  "Thank you," Cainen said. "And now, Lieutenant Sagan, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you. Or perhaps it's not so much of a favor as calling due a debt between us."

  "What is it?" Sagan asked.

&
nbsp; Cainen looked past Sagan to Wilson, who looked suddenly very uncomfortable. "You don't have to stay for this, my friend," Cainen said to Wilson.

  "Of course I'll stay," Wilson said. "But let me reiterate: You're a damn fool."

  "Noted," Cainen said. "And I appreciate the thought."

  Wilson crossed his arms and looked vexed.

  "Tell me," Sagan said.

  "I wish to die, Lieutenant," Cainen said. "Over the last several months, I have begun to feel the effects of the antidote you provide lessen. Every day I am in increasing pain."

  "We can give you more," Sagan said.

  "Yes, and perhaps that would work," Cainen said. "But I am in pain, beyond the mere physical aspect. I am far away from my people and my home, and far from the things that bring me joy. I cherish the friendships I have with Harry Wilson and with you— you! of all people—but every day I feel the part of myself that is Rraey, the part that is truly me, grow colder and smaller. Not too long from now there will be nothing left of it and I will be alone, absolutely alone. I will be alive, but I'll be dead inside."

  "I can talk to General Szilard about releasing you," Sagan said.

  "That's what I told him," Wilson said.

  "You know they'll never release me," Cainen said. "I've done too much work for you now. I know far too much. And even if you did release me, do you think the Rraey would welcome me back? No, Lieutenant. I am far from home, and I know that I can never go back to it."

  "I'm sorry I did this to you, Cainen," Sagan said. "If I could change this for you I would."

  "Why would you?" Cainen said. "You've saved your people from war, Lieutenant. I am merely part of the cost."

  "I am still sorry," Sagan said.

  "Then repay that debt to me," Cainen said. "Help me die."

  "How would I do that?" Sagan said.

  "In my studies of human culture I've learned about seppuku," Cainen said. "Do you know it?" Sagan shook her head. "Ritual suicide, from your Japanese people. The ritual includes a Kaishakunin, a second—someone who eases the pain of the person committing seppuku by killing them at the moment of their greatest agony. I would choose to die from the disease you inflicted on me, Lieutenant Sagan, but I fear that when the agony is greatest