The End of All Things: The Third Instalment

by John Scalzi

  Whatever works. Ready?

  Yes I am, Powell said. I’ve got some anger to work out. And not just from teaching.

  * * *

  Well, this is definitely not good, Powell said to me.

  The two of us, still in full camo, lay two hundred meters out from a large concrete slab, itself on the edge of a disused reservoir. On the slab were two missile launchers, an electromagnetic mass driver, and two beam weapons. One of the launchers was missing two of its missiles, and next to it two specialists had hauled over new weapons to load onto it. The specialists were not human.

  Fucking Rraey, Powell said, naming the species. What are they doing here?

  Shooting down our shuttles, I said.

  But why? How did they even get onto this planet?

  I think they were invited.

  By the prime minister? I’m going to shoot him twice now.

  We still need to bring him in alive, I said.

  I didn’t say I was going to kill him, Powell replied. Just that I was going to shoot him twice.

  Let’s focus on what we’re doing here first.

  All right, Powell said. How do you want to do this?

  I looked again at the slab. Each of the weapon platforms had its own set of technicians and operators, which amounted to four Rraey each. Each of the platforms also had its own power source, the largest being attached to the mass driver, which had to pull some serious energy into its electromagnets. The platforms were spaced haphazardly, as if they were hastily installed and meant to be equally hastily removed. And indeed toward the back of the platform were a set of trucks large enough to pack up the platforms and drive them away. There was a fifth truck as well, smaller than the rest, out of the top of which sprouted various communications receivers. Inside of it were several Rraey, visible through windows. Command and communications. Finally, two Rraey with rifles walked the perimeter of the slab. Security, such as it was.

  I see about twenty-four Rraey, I said, to Powell.

  I check your math, she said.

  I want at least a couple alive.

  Fine. Anyone in particular?

  Let’s keep the C&C staff breathing for now.

  You’re the boss.

  You take the security and the trucks, and knock out the C&C power.

  Some of them will still have handhelds.

  Don’t give them time to use them.

  You said you wanted them unharmed.

  I said I wanted them breathing.

  Oh, okay, Powell said. That makes things easier.

  I’ll take the weapons crews.

  That’s a lot.

  I have a plan.

  Yeah? What is it?

  Watch this, I said, set my Empee for a particle beam, and it shot into one of the missiles the weapons crew was trying to install into the launcher. I aimed not for the payload, but the fuel.

  It went up like holiday fireworks, taking the launcher, its missiles, its crew, and the crews of the adjoining platforms with it. Everything on the slab crumpled, including any Rraey unfortunate enough to be outside when the missile platform went up. It was a good thing we still had our masks on; they protected our ears from the blast.

  “I thought you might do that,” Powell said out loud, breaking cover and standing up.

  “You’re not worried about them seeing you?” I asked.

  “Lieutenant, at this point I want them to see me coming,” she said, and stalked off, Empee up.

  I smiled, stayed crouched, and waited for any of the Rraey on the slab to start moving again. From time to time one would start to move away. I stopped them from continuing to do so.

  There was a soft thudding sound; Powell had taken out the command truck’s power source. I saw her stalk across the slab, toward the truck, shooting truck drivers as she went. Behind her, one of the Rraey truck drivers had grabbed a weapon and was maneuvering around its truck to get a shot. I dealt with it.

  You missed one, I sent to her.

  I knew he was there, she sent back. I knew you were there too.

  A Rraey appeared out the door of the command truck’s cabin. Powell shot it in the leg; it went down squawking.

  Keep a couple alive, I said.

  That depends on them, Powell sent back. She reached the truck, grabbed the squawking Rraey, and pushed it in front of her as she went through the cabin door.

  Things were quiet, at least from my point of view, for a couple of minutes afterward.

  I left a couple alive, Powell said, after those couple of minutes had passed. But you might want to hurry.

  I hurried down.

  The inside of the command truck was a mess. There were three dead Rraey in it, including the one Powell had shot in the leg. Two more Rraey were at the back of the cabin, keening. From what little I knew of Rraey physiology, they were both sporting broken limbs. Powell had stripped them of their personal electronics; the rest of the cabin’s electronics were down. Light in the cabin consisted of a couple of small emergency lights.

  “Any trouble?” I asked Powell as she entered.

  “No,” she said. “They’re not very good at close quarters.”

  “Well, that’s something,” I said.

  Powell nodded and pointed to one of the survivors. “I think that’s the one in charge,” she said. “At least that’s the one everyone tried to keep me from getting at.”

  I went over to the Rraey, who was looking up at me. I accessed my BrainPal, which had translation modules for the couple hundred species we humans had encountered the most often; the Rraey were in there. Their language contained sounds that we can’t make, but the BrainPal would pick words that suited our mouths and throats. I’d tell the BrainPal what I wanted to say and it would offer me a suitable translation.

  “Are you in charge here?” I asked the Rraey Powell had pointed out to me.

  “I will not answer your questions,” the Rraey said to me, in its language, which my BrainPal translated for me.

  “I could break something else,” Powell said. She was listening in.

  “Torture isn’t useful to get information,” I said.

  “I didn’t say anything about getting information.”

  I looked back to her. “Give me a minute here, please,” I said. Powell snorted.

  I turned back to the Rraey. “You are hurt,” I said, in its language. “Let us help you get better.”

  “We’re hurt because of that animal over there,” the Rraey said, jerking its head to Powell.

  “You are hurt because you attacked us,” I said. “You cannot attack us and expect nothing to happen in return.”

  The creature said nothing to this.

  “You are here on a planet you should not be,” I said. “Helping humans, which you should not do. You need to tell me why.”

  “I will not.”

  “We can help you. We will help you and your soldier here,” I said, pointing to the other injured Rraey. “You will not survive if you do not get help.”

  “I will gladly die.”

  “But will you ask this soldier to die too?” I said. “Have you asked this soldier what it wants?”

  “You’re doing that thing where you’re trying to be nice to someone you were just trying to kill,” Powell said. “It doesn’t work, because they remember you were trying to kill them five minutes ago.”

  “Ilse.”

  “I’m just pointing this out. Someone needs to say it.”

  I ignored her and turned back to the Rraey. “I am Lieutenant Heather Lee of the Colonial Defense Forces,” I said. “I promise you that from this point forward you will not be harmed. It’s a promise whether you help me or not. But if you help me, then I may say to my superiors that you have been useful. And they will treat you better.”

  “We know how you treat your prisoners,” the Rraey said.

  “And we know how you treat yours,” I said. “We can change things now.”

  “Kill me and get it over with,” the Rraey said.

  �
��I don’t want to die,” said the other Rraey.

  The first Rraey squawked something at his underling, which my BrainPal translated as “[Silence/You are making a shameful utterance].”

  “You won’t,” I said, turning my attention to it. “Help me, solider. Help me and you will live. I promise you.”

  “I am Specialist Ketrin Se Lau,” it said. It motioned with its head to the other Rraey. “This is Commander Frui Ko Tvann. We are here on behalf of Equilibrium. We are here because the government of Khartoum has struck a deal with us.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Protection,” it said. “Once the Colonial Union falls, Equilibrium will protect it from species who will try to raid or take over.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  Commander Tvann squawked again and tried to strike Lau. Powell crossed the distance between the two and held her Empee on Tvann.

  “In exchange for what?” I repeated.

  “You won’t kill us,” Lau asked. “You promise.”

  “Yes, I promise. Neither of you.”

  “You won’t torture us.”

  “We won’t. We’re going to help you. I promise, Specialist Lau.”

  “Protection in exchange for laying a trap,” Lau said. “For luring you here.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Powell said. “The Colonial Union only sent one ship. Even if the Tubingen is destroyed we’ll just send more. A lot more. This uprising will fail and then we’ll go after the Rraey for helping them.”

  “Unless there’s more to it,” I said, and turned back to Lau. “What else is there?”

  “I don’t know,” Lau said. “I’m a specialist. They only told me what I had to know for my part.”

  I turned to Tvann. “And I don’t expect you want to fill me in.” Tvann turned its head from me.

  “So we have a dead end here,” Powell said.

  “No,” I said, and then cut off as the Tubingen opened a feed, searching for us. It had been attacked and damaged but had survived and with the help of another ship had destroyed the two ships attacking it. It was now asking for status reports.

  “Well, at least we’re not entirely screwed,” Powell said.

  “Call it in,” I said to her. “Let them know we need immediate medical evac for two Rraey prisoners of war. Tell them I’ve promised they won’t be further harmed.”

  “That’s going to go over well.”

  “Just do it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Tell them to send another shuttle for the two of us. We have another mission to finish.”

  * * *

  On the way back, our shuttle was diverted from the Tubingen to the other Colonial Union ship.

  “I haven’t heard of the Chandler before,” Powell said.

  “It’s a State Department ship, not a CDF ship,” I said.

  “A State Department ship with a fully operational offensive weapons system.”

  “Times have changed,” I said.

  “These constraints are hurting my arms,” said Masahiko Okada, the now-former prime minister of Khartoum. It’s possible that he might still be considered the prime minister by some, but from a practical matter his days in charge of things were now over. “I’m very uncomfortable.”

  “And several of my friends are dead,” Powell said, to Okada. “So maybe you should think you’re getting the better end of the deal and shut up.”

  Okada turned to me. “If you don’t think people will know about how you’re treating me—”

  “Let me throw him out,” Powell said, to me.

  Okada turned back to Powell. “What?”

  “Let me throw him out,” Powell repeated to me. “This shitbucket is the reason Lambert and Salcido are dead. Not to mention everyone else in the platoon.”

  “Not everyone else is dead,” I reminded her. “Gould and DeConnick survived, too.”

  “Gould and DeConnick are both in critical condition,” Powell said. “They might survive. And if they don’t that leaves just you and me. Out of an entire fucking platoon.” She jabbed a finger at Okada. “I think that rates him getting a space walk without a suit.”

  I turned to Okada. “Your thoughts, Mr. Prime Minister?”

  “It’s the Colonial Union that instigated this rebellion, not the government of Khartoum,” Okada began.

  “Oh, that is it,” Powell interrupted, and stood up. “Time for you to breathe some vacuum, motherfucker.” Okada visibly shrunk away from Powell.

  I held up a hand. Powell stopped advancing on Okada. “New plan,” I said. I pointed to Okada. “You don’t say another single word until after we dock with the Chandler,” I glanced back to Powell, “and you don’t toss him into space.”

  Okada said nothing more, even after we had landed and some of the Chandler’s crew took him away.

  “He seems quiet,” the Chandler crewmember who approached me said, nodding over to Okada. Unlike all the others, he was green, which meant he was CDF.

  “He was sufficiently motivated,” I said.

  “It appears so,” he said. “Now, then. Do you remember me, Lieutenant Lee?”

  “I do, Lieutenant Wilson,” I said. I motioned to Powell. “This is my sergeant, Ilse Powell.”

  “Sergeant,” Wilson said, and turned his attention back to me. “I’m glad you remember me. I’m supposed to debrief you and catch you up with things.”

  “What we’d really like to do is get back to the Tubingen,” I said.

  “Well,” Wilson said. “About that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Maybe we should find someplace to sit down and chat.”

  “Maybe you should just tell me right now because otherwise I might punch you, Wilson.”

  He smiled. “You definitely haven’t changed. All right, here it is: The Tubingen survived the attack on her, but ‘survive’ is a relative term. She’s essentially dead in orbit. She might have been entirely destroyed but we managed to get here in time and help her fight off the ships attacking her.”

  “And how did you do that?” I asked. “Arrive in the nick of time.”

  “We had a hunch,” Wilson said, “and that’s all I can say about that right now, here, out in the open in a shuttle bay.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “My point is that if you really want to head back to the Tubingen you may after we’re done debriefing. But you won’t be staying there. At best you’ll have time to collect any personal belongings that weren’t destroyed in the battle before the John Henry and other ships arrive to take you and all the other survivors of the Tubingen back to Phoenix Station for reassignment. You might as well stay here. We can have your effects brought to you.”

  “How many people died in the attack on the Tubingen?” Powell asked.

  “Two hundred fifteen dead, another several dozen injured. That’s not counting your platoon. Sorry about that. We’ve retrieved them, by the way.”

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  “They’re in one of the mess coolers at the moment.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “I don’t recommend that. It’s not very dignified. How they are being stored, I mean.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I’ll have it arranged, then.”

  “I also want to know about the two Rraey I sent back.”

  “They’re in our brig, and receiving medical attention, inasmuch as we can give it to them,” Wilson said. “Their injuries were substantial but thankfully not terribly complicated. Mostly broken bones, which we could set and tend. Which one of you did that, by the way?”

  “That would be me,” Powell said.

  “You’re fun,” Wilson said.

  “You should see me on the second date.”

  Wilson smiled at this and turned his attention back to me. “We received your instruction that they were not to be further harmed. That was not a problem because we had no intention of doing so. You do understand we will need to question them.�
�

  “You can question them without harming them,” I said.

  “Yes we can,” Wilson said. “I just want you to be clear that the questioning is likely to be aggressive, even if it’s not physical. Particularly of Commander Tvann, who is interesting to us for other reasons than just his involvement here.”

  “Who’s going to do the questioning?”

  “Well, here it’s going to be me.”

  “Commander Tvann doesn’t seem very forthcoming.”

  “Don’t worry, I think I can get him to talk without breaking anything else in his body. I’ve worked with Rraey before. Trust me.”

  “All right. Thank you,” I said. I nodded in the direction of where Okada went. “What’s going to happen with him?”

  “Him, I’m not going to make too many promises about,” Wilson said. “He’s managed to perform a neat little trick. Not only has he betrayed the Colonial Union, he’s also betrayed his own rebellion.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean that there were ten Colonial Union planets that were supposed to announce their independence from the CU simultaneously, and that Khartoum was one of them. But Khartoum jumped the gun, announced early, and then lured the Tubingen into a trap.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Wilson said. “What he tells us is going to make a difference in how the Colonial Union as a whole deals with these rebellious planets.”

  “Do you think he’ll talk?” Powell asked.

  “By the time we get done with him, getting him to talk won’t be the problem. It’ll be getting him to shut up. Now, are you ready for the formal debriefing?”

  “Actually, I would like to see my soldiers first,” I said.

  “All right,” Wilson said.

  * * *

  I found Lambert waist high in a stack of dead bodies near the back of the mess cooler. Salcido I found two stacks over, closer to the floor. They did not bear close observation.

  “Lambert was right, you know,” Powell said. She was with me in the cooler. Wilson had walked us to the cooler, opened it, and then waited outside. The cooler had been cleared of shelves and the contents they usually stored; the latter were either restocked in a different cooler or being fed to the survivors of the Tubingen, who were in the mess itself, unhappily crowded together.