The Ghost Brigades (3 page)

“That's right,” Cainen said. “Other than that I suppose they didn't want anyone to know I was there once the base was invaded, because one of them tried to kill me.”

“That's true,” Sagan said. “You fared better than your crew, I'm afraid.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Cainen said.

“You're the only Rraey that we found alive,” Sagan said. “The rest had been shot and killed by the Eneshans. Most of them were in what appeared to be barracks. We found another near what I imagine was your lab, since it had quite a bit of Rraey technology in it.”

Cainen felt sick. “You're lying,” he said.

“I'm afraid not,” Sagan said.

“You humans killed them,” Cainen said, angrily.

“The Eneshans tried to kill
you,
” Sagan said. “Why
wouldn't
they kill the other members of your crew?”

“I don't believe you,” Cainen said.

“I understand why you wouldn't,” Sagan said. “It's still the truth.”

Cainen sat there, grieving. Sagan gave him time.

“All right,” Cainen said, eventually. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“For starters, Administrator Cainen,” Sagan said, “we'd like the truth.”

It took a moment for Cainen to realize this was the first time the human had addressed him by his name. And title. “I've been telling you the truth,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Sagan said.

Cainen pointed to the speaker again. “I only got a partial translation of that,” he said.

“You are Administrator Cainen Suen Su,” Sagan said. “And while it's true enough that you have some medical training, your two primary areas of study are xenobiology and semi-organic neural net defense systems—two areas of study that I would imagine mesh together well.”

Cainen said nothing. Sagan continued. “Now, Administrator Cainen, let me tell you a little of what
we
know. Fifteen months ago the Rraey and the Eneshans were fighting the same off-and-on war they'd been fighting for thirty years, a war that we encouraged since it kept the two of you out of our hair.”

“Not entirely,” Cainen said. “There was the Battle of Coral.”

“Yes, there was,” Sagan said. “I was there. I almost died.”

“I lost a brother there,” Cainen said. “My youngest. Perhaps you met him.”

“Perhaps I did,” Sagan said. “Fifteen months ago the Rraey and the Enesha were enemies. And then suddenly they were not, for no reason that our intelligence could figure out.”

“We've already discussed the shortcomings of your intelligence,” Cainen said. “Races stop warring all the time. After Coral, we and you stopped fighting.”

“We stopped fighting because we beat you. You retreated and we rebuilt Coral,” Sagan said. “Which is the point—there is a reason we stopped fighting, at least for now. You and the Enesha don't have a reason. That worries us.

“Three months ago the spy satellite we parked above
this
planet noticed that for an allegedly uninhabited world, it had suddenly begun to receive a lot of traffic, both Eneshan and Rraey. What makes this especially interesting to us is that this planet is claimed neither by the Enesha or the Rraey, but by the Obin. The Obin don't mix, Administrator, and they are strong enough that neither the Enesha nor the Rraey would think lightly about setting up shop in their territory.

“So we placed a more advanced spy satellite above the planet to look for signs of habitation. We came up with nothing. As a defense specialist, Administrator, would you like to hazard a guess as to why?”

“I would imagine the base was shielded,” Cainen said.

“It was,” Sagan said. “And as it happens, by the very sort of defense system you specialize in. We didn't know that at the time, of course, but we know it now.”

“How did you find the base if it was shielded?” Cainen asked. “I am curious, in a professional sense.”

“We dropped rocks,” Sagan said.

“Excuse me?” Cainen asked.

“Rocks,” Sagan said. “A month ago we salted the planet with several dozen seismic sensors, which were programmed to look for seismic signatures that suggested intelligently designed underground structures. Speaking from experience, secret bases are easier to shield when they're underground. We relied on the planet's natural seismic activity to narrow down areas to investigate. Then we dropped rocks in areas of interest. And then today we dropped several right before our attack, to get an exact sonic image of the base. Rocks are good because they look like naturally occurring meteors. They don't scare anyone. And no one shields against seismic imaging. Most races are too busy shielding against optical and high-energy electromagnetic scans to consider sound waves much of a danger. It's the fallacy of high technology; it ignores the efficiency of lower orders of technology. Like dropping rocks.”

“Leave it to humans to bang rocks together,” Cainen said.

Sagan shrugged. “We don't mind when the other guy brings a gun to a knife fight,” she said. “It just makes it easier for us to cut out his heart. Or whatever it is that he uses to pump blood. Your overconfidence works for us. As you can see because you are here. But what we really want to know, Administrator, is
why
you are here. Eneshans and Rraey working together is puzzling enough, but Eneshans and Rraey
and
Obin? That's not just puzzling. That's
interesting
.”

“I don't know anything about who owns this planet,” Cainen said.

“And what's even more interesting is you, Administrator Cainen,” Sagan said, ignoring Cainen's comment. “While you were sleeping we did a gene scan on you to tell us who you are, then we accessed ship's records to learn a little of your history. We know one of your primary areas of xenobiological interest is humans. You're probably the Rraey's leading authority on human genetics. And we know you've also got a particular interest in how human brains work.”

“It's part of my overall interest in neural nets,” Cainen said. “I'm not
particularly
interested in human brains, as you say. All brains are interesting in their way.”

“If you say so,” Sagan said. “But whatever it was you were doing down there, it was important enough that the Eneshans would rather see you and your crew dead than in our hands.”

“I told you,” Cainen said. “We were their prisoners.”

Sagan rolled her eyes. “For a minute, let's pretend we're both not stupid, Administrator Cainen,” she said.

Cainen moved forward, leaning closer to Sagan from across the table. “What kind of human are you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Sagan said.

“We know there are three kinds of human,” Cainen said, and held up his fingers, so much longer and more articulated than human fingers, to count off the variations. “There are the unmodified humans, who are the ones who colonize planets. Those come in varying shapes and sizes and colors—good genetic diversity there. The second group is the largest part of your soldier caste. These also vary in size and shape, but to a far lesser extent, and they're all the same color: green. We know that these soldiers aren't in their original bodies—their consciousness is transferred from bodies of older members of your species to these stronger, healthier bodies. These bodies are extensively genetically altered, so much that they can't breed, either between themselves or with unmodified humans. But they're still recognizably human, particularly the brain matter.

“But the third group,” Cainen said, and leaned back. “We hear stories, Lieutenant Sagan.”

“What do you hear?” Sagan said.

“That they are created from the dead,” Cainen said. “That the human germ plasm of the dead is mixed and remixed with the genetics of other species to see what will arise. That some of them don't even resemble humans, as
they
recognize themselves. That they are born as adults, with skills and ability, but no memory. And not only no memory. No
self
. No morality. No restraint. No—” He paused, as if looking for the right word. “No
humanity,
” he said, finally. “As you would put it. Child warriors, in grown bodies. Abominations. Monsters. Tools your Colonial Union uses for the missions they can not or will not offer to soldiers who have life experience and a moral self, or who might fear for their soul in this world or the next.”

“A scientist concerned about souls,” Sagan said. “That's not very pragmatic.”

“I am a scientist, but I am also Rraey,” Cainen said. “I know I have a soul, and I tend to it. Do you have a soul, Lieutenant Sagan?”

“Not that I know of, Administrator Cainen,” Sagan said. “They are hard to quantify.”

“So you
are
the third kind of human,” Cainen said.

“I am,” Sagan said.

“Built from the flesh of the dead,” Cainen said.

“From her genes,” Sagan said. “Not her flesh.”

“Genes build the flesh, Lieutenant. Genes dream the flesh, wherein the soul resides,” Cainen said.

“Now you're a poet,” Sagan said.

“I'm quoting,” Cainen said. “One of our philosophers. Who was also a scientist. You wouldn't know her. May I ask how old you are?”

“I'm seven, almost eight,” Sagan said. “About four and a half of your
hked
.”

“So young,” Cainen said. “Rraey of your age have barely started their educations. I'm more than ten times your age, Lieutenant.”

“And yet, here we both are,” Sagan said.

“Here we are,” Cainen agreed. “I wish we had met under other circumstances, Lieutenant. I would very much like to study you.”

“I don't know how to respond to that,” Sagan said. “‘Thank you' doesn't seem appropriate, considering what being studied by you would probably mean.”

“You could be kept alive,” Cainen said.

“Oh, joy,” Sagan said. “But you might get your wish, after a fashion. You must know by now that you are a prisoner—for real this time, and you will be for the rest of your life.”

“I figured that out when you started telling me things I could report back to my government,” Cainen said. “Like the rock trick. Although I assumed you were going to kill me.”

“We humans are a pragmatic people, Administrator Cainen,” Sagan said. “You have knowledge we can use, and if you were willing to be cooperative, there's no reason you couldn't continue your study of human genetics and brains. Just for us instead of for the Rraey.”

“All I would have to do is betray my people,” Cainen said.

“There is that,” Sagan allowed.

“I think I would rather die first,” Cainen said.

“With all due respect, Administrator, if you truly believed that, you probably wouldn't have shot that Eneshan who was trying to kill you earlier today,” Sagan said. “I think you want to live.”

“You may be right,” Cainen said. “But whether you are right or not,
child,
I am done talking to you now. I've told you everything I'm going to tell you of my own free will.”

Sagan smiled at Cainen. “Administrator, do you know what humans and Rraey have in common?”

“We have a number of things in common,” Cainen said. “Pick one.”

“Genetics,” Sagan said. “I don't need to tell you that human genetic sequencing and Rraey genetic sequencing are substantially different in the details. But on the macro level we share certain similarities, including the fact that we receive one set of genes from one parent and the other from the other. Two-parent sexual reproduction.”

“Standard sexual reproduction among sexually reproducing species,” Cainen said. “Some species need three or even four parents, but not many. It's too inefficient.”

“No doubt,” Sagan said. “Administrator, have you heard of Fronig's Syndrome?”

“It's a rare genetic disease among the Rraey,” Cainen said. “Very rare.”

“From what I understand of it, the disease is caused because of deficiencies in two unrelated gene sets,” Sagan said. “One gene set regulates the development of nerve cells, and specifically of an electrically-insulating sheath around them. The second gene set regulates the organ that produces the Rraey analog for what humans call lymph. It does some of the same things, and does other things differently. In humans lymph is somewhat electrically conductive, but in the Rraey this liquid is electrically insulating. From what we know of Rraey physiology this electrically insulating quality of your lymph usually serves no particular benefit or detriment, just as the electrically conductive nature of human lymph is neither a plus or minus—it's just there.”

“Yes,” Cainen said.

“But for Rraey who are unlucky enough to have two broken nerve development genes, this electrical insulation
is
beneficial,” Sagan said. “This fluid bathes the interstitial area surrounding Rraey cells, including nerve cells. This keeps the nerve's electrical signals from going astray. What's interesting about Rraey lymph is that its composition is controlled hormonally, and that a slight change in the hormonal signal will change it from electrically insulating to electrically conductive. Again, for most Rraey, this is neither here nor there. But for those who code for exposed nerve cells—”

“—it causes seizures and convulsions and then death as their nerve signals leak out into their bodies,” Cainen said. “Its fatality is why it's so rare. Individuals who code for electrically-conductive lymph and exposed nerves die during gestation, usually after the cells first begin to differentiate and the syndrome manifests.”

“But there's also adult onset Fronig's,” Sagan said. “The genes code to change the hormonal signal later, in early adulthood. Which is late enough for reproduction to happen and the gene to be passed on. But it also takes two faulty genes to be expressed.”