The Ghost Brigades (23 page)

It was three days before the Obin stopped hunting for them.

 

“Welcome back,” Wilson said, as he approached the sled, and then stopped. “Is that
Babar
?”

“It is,” Jared said, sitting in the sled with Babar secured in his lap.

“I'm not sure I even want to know what
that's
about,” Wilson said.

“You do,” Jared said. “Trust me.”

“It has something to do with Boutin?” Wilson said.

“It has everything to do with him,” Jared said. “I know why he turned traitor, Harry. I know everything.”

One day before Jared returned to Phoenix Station, clutching Babar, the Special Forces cruiser
Osprey
skipped into the Nagano system to investigate a distress call sent by Skip courier from a mining operation on Kobe. The
Osprey
was not heard from again.

 

Jared was supposed to report in to Colonel Robbins. Instead he stomped past Robbins's office and into General Mattson's before Mattson's secretary could stop him. Mattson was inside and looked up as Jared walked in.

“Here,” Jared said, thrusting Babar into the hands of a surprised Mattson. “Now I know why I punched you, you son of a bitch.”

Mattson looked down on the stuffed animal. “Let me guess,” he said. “This is Zoë Boutin's. And now you've got your memory back.”

“Enough of it,” Jared said. “Enough to know you're responsible for her death.”

“Funny,” Mattson said, putting Babar down on his desk. “Seems to me that either the Rraey or the Obin are responsible for her death.”

“Don't be obtuse, General,” Jared said. Mattson raised an eyebrow. “You ordered Boutin here for a month. He asked to bring his daughter with him. You refused. Boutin left his daughter and she died. He blames you.”

“And you do too, apparently,” Mattson said.

Jared ignored this. “Why didn't you let him bring her?” he asked.

“I'm not running a day care, Private,” Mattson said. “I needed Boutin focused on his work. Boutin's wife was already dead. Who was going to take care of the girl? He had people at Covell who could do it for him; I told him to leave her there. I didn't
expect
that we'd lose the station and the colony and that the girl would die.”

“This station houses other civilian scientists and workers,” Jared said. “There are families here. He could have found or hired someone to watch Zoë while he worked. It wasn't an unreasonable request, and you know it. So,
really,
why didn't you let him bring her?”

By this time Robbins, alerted by Mattson's secretary, had entered the room. Mattson twisted uncomfortably. “Listen,” Mattson said. “Boutin was a top-flight mind, but he was a goddamned flake. Especially after his wife died. Cheryl was a heat sink for the man's eccentricities; she kept him on an even keel. Once she was gone he became erratic, particularly where his daughter was involved.”

Jared opened his mouth; Mattson held up a hand. “I'm not blaming him, Private,” Mattson said. “His wife was dead, he had a little girl, he was worried about her. I was a parent too. I remember what it's like. But that topped with his own organizational issues created problems. He was behind on his projects as it was. It's one of the reasons I brought him back here for the testing phase. I wanted him to be able to get work done and not be distracted. And it worked; we finished testing ahead of schedule and things went so well that I gave the go-ahead to have him bumped up to the director level, which was something I wouldn't have done before the test phase. He was on his way back to Covell when it was attacked.”

“He thought you turned down his request because you're a pissant tyrant,” Jared said.

“Well, of course he did,” Mattson said. “That's Boutin all over. Look, he and I never got along. Our personalities didn't mesh. He was high maintenance, and if it weren't for the fact he was a fucking genius, he wouldn't have been worth the trouble. He resented the fact that I or one of my people was always looking over his shoulder. He resented having to explain and justify his work. And he resented that I didn't give a shit if he resented it. I'm not surprised he thought it was just me being petty.”

“And you're saying it
wasn't,
” Jared said.

“It wasn't,” Mattson said, and then threw up his hands when Jared gave him a skeptical look. “Okay. Look.
Perhaps
our history of bad blood played a small role. Maybe I was less willing to cut him a break than I would be someone else. Fine. But my main concern was getting work out of him. And I
did
promote the son of a bitch.”

“But he never forgave you for what happened to Zoë,” Jared said.

“Do you think I wanted his little girl dead, Private?” Mattson said. “Do you think that I wasn't aware that if I had just said yes to his request, she'd be alive now? Christ. I don't
blame
Boutin for hating me after that. I didn't intend for Zoë Boutin to die, but I accept I bear a part of the responsibility for the fact she is dead. I said as much to Boutin himself. See if
that
is in your memories.”

It was. Jared saw in his mind Mattson approaching him in his lab, awkwardly offering his condolences and sympathy. Jared recalled how appalled he felt at the fumbled words, and their implicit suggestion that Mattson should be absolved of the death of his child. He felt some of the cold rage wash over him now, and had to remind himself that the memories he was feeling were from another person, about a child who was not his own.

“He didn't accept your apology,” Jared said.

“I'm aware of
that,
Private,” Mattson said, and sat there for a moment before he spoke up again. “So, who
are
you now?” he asked. “It's clear you have Boutin's memories. Are you him now? In your gut, I mean.”

“I'm still me,” Jared said. “I'm still Jared Dirac. But I feel what Charles Boutin felt. I understand what he did.”

Robbins spoke up. “You understand what he did,” he repeated. “Does that mean you agree with it?”

“His treason?” Jared asked. Robbins nodded. “No. I can feel what he felt. I feel how angry he was. I feel how he missed his daughter. But I don't know how he got from there to turning on all of us.”

“You can't feel it, or you don't remember it?” Robbins asked.

“Both,” Jared said. More memory was returning after his epiphany at Covell, specific incidents and data from all parts of Boutin's life. Jared could sense that whatever happened there had changed him and made him more fertile ground for Boutin's life. But the gaps were still there. Jared had to keep himself from worrying about them. “Maybe more will come the more I think about it,” he said. “But right now I've got nothing on that.”

“But you know where he is now,” Mattson said, bringing Jared back from his reverie. “Boutin. You know where he is.”

“I know where he was,” Jared said. “Or at least I know where he was going when he left.” The name was clear in Jared's brain; Boutin had focused on the name like a talisman, burning it indelibly into memory. “He went to Arist.”

There was a brief moment while Mattson and Robbins accessed their BrainPals for information on Arist. “Well, crap,” Mattson said, eventually.

The Obin home system housed four gas giants, one of which—Cha—orbited in a “Goldilocks zone” for carbon-based life and had three planet-sized moons among several dozen smaller satellites. The smallest of the large moons, Saruf, lay in orbit just outside the planet's Roche limit, and was wracked by immense tidal forces that turned it into an uninhabitable ball of lava. The second, Obinur, was half again the size of Earth but less massive due to a metal-poor composition. This was the Obin home world. The third, of Earth size and mass, was Arist.

Arist was thickly populated with native life-forms but largely uninhabited by the Obin, with only a few outposts of any size on the moon. Nevertheless, its close proximity to Obinur would make it almost impossible to assault. CDF ships wouldn't be able to simply sneak in; Arist was only a few light-seconds from Obinur. Almost as soon as they appeared the Obin would be moving in for the kill. Nothing short of a large assault force would stand a chance of extracting Boutin from Arist. Extracting Boutin would be declaring war, a war the Colonial Union wasn't ready to commit to even with the Obin standing alone.

“We're going to have to talk to General Szilard about this,” Robbins said to Mattson.

“No shit,” Mattson said. “If there was ever a job for Special Forces, this is it. Speaking of which”—Mattson focused on Jared—“once we drop this in Szilard's lap, you're going back to Special Forces. Dealing with this is going to be his problem, and that means you're going to be his problem too.”

“I'm going to miss you too, General,” Jared said.

Mattson snorted. “You really are sounding more like Boutin every day. And that's not a good thing. Which reminds me, as my last official order to you, get down to see the bug and Lieutenant Wilson and let them get another look at your brain. I'm giving you back to General Szilard, but I promised I wouldn't break you. Being a little too much like Boutin might qualify as ‘broken' by his standard. It does by mine.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared said.

“Good. You're dismissed.” Mattson picked up Babar and tossed it to Jared. “And take this thing with you,” he said.

Jared caught it and set it back down on Mattson's desk, facing the general. “Why don't you keep it, General,” Jared said. “As a reminder.” He left before Mattson could protest, nodding at Robbins as he left.

Mattson stared glumly at the stuffed elephant and then up at Robbins, who appeared about to say something. “Don't say a goddamned thing about the elephant, Colonel,” Mattson said.

Robbins changed the topic. “Do you think Szilard will take him back?” he asked. “You said it yourself: He's sounding more like Boutin every day.”

“You're telling
me
this,” Mattson said, and waved in the direction of where Jared had gone. “You and the general were the ones who wanted to build this little bastard from spare parts, if you'll recall. And now you've got him. Or Szi's got him. Christ.”

“So you're worried,” Robbins said.

“I've never
stopped
being worried about him,” Mattson said. “When he was with us I kept hoping he'd do something stupid so I would have a legitimate excuse to have him shot. I don't
like
that we've bred a second traitor, especially one with a military body and brain. If it were up to me I'd take Private Dirac and put him in a nice big room that features a toilet and a food slot, and keep him there until he rots.”

“He's still technically under your command,” Robbins said.

“Szi's made it clear he wants him back, for whatever damn fool reason he has,” Mattson said. “He commands combat troops. If we go to the mat on it, he'll get the decision.” Mattson picked up Babar, examined him. “I just hope to holy fuck he knows what he's doing.”

“Well,” Robbins said. “Maybe Dirac won't actually be as much like Boutin as you think he will be.”

Mattson snorted derisively, and wiggled Babar at Robbins. “See this? This isn't just some goddamned souvenir. It's a message straight from Charles Boutin himself. No, Colonel. Dirac is exactly as much like Boutin as I think he is.”

“There's no question about it,” Cainen said to Jared. “You've become Charles Boutin.”

“The hell I have,” Jared said.

“The hell you have,” Cainen agreed, and motioned to the display. “Your consciousness pattern is now almost entirely identical to what Boutin left us. There's still some variation, of course, but it's trivial. For all intents and purposes, you have the same mind as Charles Boutin had.”

“I don't feel any different,” Jared said.

“Don't you?” Harry Wilson said, from the other side of the lab.

Jared opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. Wilson grinned. “You
do
feel different,” he said. “I can tell it. So can Cainen. You're more aggressive than you were before. You're sharper with the retort. Jared Dirac was quieter, more subdued. More innocent, although that's probably not the absolute best way to put it. You're not quiet and subdued anymore. And certainly not innocent. I remember Charlie Boutin. You're a lot more like him than like who Jared Dirac used to be.”

“But I don't feel like becoming a traitor,” Jared said.

“Of course you don't,” Cainen said. “You share the same consciousness, and you even share some of the same memories. But you had your own experiences, and that has shaped how you look at things. It's as with identical twins. They share the same genetics, but they don't share the same lives. Charles Boutin is your mind twin. But your experiences are still your own.”

“So you don't think I'll go bad,” Jared said.

Cainen did a Rraey shrug. Jared looked over to Wilson, who did a human shrug. “You say you know Charlie's motivation for going bad was the death of his daughter,” he said. “You have the memory of that daughter and her death in you now, but nothing you've done or that we've seen in your head suggests that you're going to crack because of it. We're going to suggest they let you back into active duty. Whether they take our recommendation or not is another thing entirely, since the lead scientist on the project is one who until about a year ago was plotting to overthrow humanity. But I don't think that's your problem.”