Angry Ghosts (23 page)

He watches Deepak and Keiko calmly approaching as he tries to stand straight, but the leg will accept no weight. He hobbles backward, lowers his chin, and raises his arms to fight.

“We have to stop this,” Ortega blurts, but the Brick shushes him, shaking his head.

“This is the most important. What he does now will decide if he is inducted or not.”

“Look at him!” Ortega protests. “I don’t have to be a MedTech to see his spine is injured!”

The Brick ignores the comment.

“What if they kill him?” Ortega insists.

The Brick looks at the Spaniard with annoyance. “If you’re too delicate to watch, perhaps you should wait outside.”

The colonists stand open-mouthed while the Brick returns his attention to the arena.

In the few seconds he has, Beckert closes his eyes and shuffles away from his opponents. Gritting his teeth, he tucks at the waist and rotates, flinging himself sideways through the air, stretching his spine. The young initiate screams in agony, and crumples on landing. With obvious difficulty, he drags the weak leg beneath him and rises to all fours.
He sways on his hands and knees then climbs to the same meek fighting position as before, limping backward.

Deepak and Keiko are close, pounding one fist into the other, scowling at his weakness and fragility. Keiko reaches for him with both hands, and he explodes into her with a
punishing kick to the sternum.

She launches back
, eyes wide with shock. In the same fluid motion, Beckert drops and leg sweeps Deepak onto his back. Deepak slaps his arms out, breaking his fall.

Gregor grabs Sharon next to him with a teeth-showing grin.

“He was faking!”

Beckert is on top of Deepak, wrapping a leg around his back and over a shoulder. Deepak scrambles, but Beckert is too fast, locking the leg tight with the crook of his other leg. Deepak rolls, and Beckert rolls with him, not giving up the triangle choke.

The young man cinches tighter and tighter, trying to put the Gun out even though Deepak has managed to keep his chin just low enough to block. Beckert strains, punching the Gun’s head into the position he wants, hauling on the trapped arm, doing everything he can, focusing so intently he does not see Keiko swooping down on top of him.

She tackles him violently, breaking his leg lock, easily snaking her arm around his neck and under his chin.
Bracing the choke arm with her other, she arches her back, stretching Beckert’s neck, and squeezes hard.

The young man’s face bulges and goes deep red. He grunts and tries to pull against Keiko’s thick arms, but he may as well be tugging against a metal girder. She
lay atop him, her weight holding him down, and it is only a few more seconds until he stops struggling.

She holds the choke several more seconds to make sure he is completely out and releases him, leaving him sprawled on the floor like a heap of laundry.

Keiko climbs to her feet with some effort, clutching her chest, and waves the MedTechs over. As the MedTechs roll the limp initiate over, Keiko looks down on him. The contempt is gone as she still clutches her chest, panting slightly. Deepak stands beside her, his face emblazoned with the same expression of wary respect.

The MedTechs move swiftly, checking Beckert’s eyes and vital signs. One nods to the other and produces a short clear tube with an expanding device on one end. That end disappears down Beckert’s throat and reopens his crushed larynx. They attach a device to the protruding end of the tube, and Beckert’s chest rises and falls with respiration.

Anxious moments tick by, and even Shao-Lo looks on with concern until the young initiate convulses and sits up suddenly between the MedTechs, nearly head butting them. Blinking with disorientation, he yanks the tube from his mouth and scurries away.

Deepak and Keiko hurry over to him, and the young man tries to get to his feet. Just as he is expecting another attack, the Guns reach their open hands toward him.
He looks into their open palms and a wave of sadness descends over him. He cannot look into either Deepak’s or Keiko’s eyes.

“You did good, Beckert,” Keiko says as she and Deepak take his arms.

With bewilderment, he looks into Deepak’s face and the pulpy mess of what was his nose. Deepak nods in agreement.

“
specialist beckert, front and center
!” Chusan roars.

The Guns release him, and Beckert trots over to Chusan, stamping to attention with a swift salute.

“Sir!” he coughs hoarsely.

Colonel Shao-Lo strides out to meet them.

“This was your last test for operator candidacy. Major Chusan and I have scrutinized every score, calculation, and performance review of yours over the last six months. Here, I think we learned more about you than in all of the other tests combined.”

Beckert maintains his rigid stance as the Colonel continues.

“In this final examination, you were placed into a combat situation against superior opponents, and you were ordered to win. We observed you acting aggressively, fearlessly, and decisively, even finding in your injury an opportunity to deceive and surprise your opponents. You held off Gun Deepak and Gun Keiko for one minute, sixteen seconds. You even managed to get a hold of Gun Deepak, nearly submitting him. That’s admirable in its own right.” Shao-Lo shifts her stance.

“But in your zeal to defeat him, you blinded yourself to Gun Keiko, and she finished you easily. If nothing else, Specialist, this should teach you the value of teamwork. Any one of us may be disadvantaged, but our teammates look out for us, and we look out for them.” She pauses, resting her weight equally on her feet.

“An Operator should have no fear of death, but neither should they allow it through negligence. The Operator Corps is the
only
defense of our people. It is our
obligation
to survive so we may perform that duty. Do you understand?”

Beckert blinks hard, tak
ing the colonel’s words as though they were scalding hot.

“Yes, sir!” he replies gravelly.

Shao-Lo nods. “There have been times when an Operator has given his life for others, but it was always after every other option had been exhausted. Even if victory seems in your grasp, you must choose to survive. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Beckert answers.

Shao-Lo regards the young man carefully and asks directly, “Do you understand that an Operator is
expected
to accomplish what is logically impossible on a daily basis?”

“Yes, sir,
I do
!” the young man declares, and a light burns from his eyes as he recognizes the preliminaries to the oath of induction.

“Do you understand that an O
perator is
expected
to protect and to provide for every human life without any concern for difficulty or burden to themselves?”

“Yes, sir,
I do
!”

“Do you understand that this service is continuous and can never be set aside?”

“Yes, sir,
I do
!”

“Do y
ou understand the extent of an Operator’s responsibility?”

“Yes, sir,
I do
!”

“Prove it,” Shao-Lo says, folding her arms in expectation.

“The survival of humanity is
my
responsibility. Mine
personally
. My actions determine the fate of our people. If I fail in my duty, I permit the destruction of all I know and value. And I alone will be the cause of it.”

Shao-Lo nods without comment, though something makes her pause before moving on. “Do you believe it?”

Beckert brings his eyebrows together. “Sir?”

“With a corps of
Operators and a leadership council overseeing the cadre, how could any
one
Operator believe the fate of our people rests purely on their shoulders?”

“Easily, sir. Every O
perator has a task to perform. Only when we work in perfect concert do we have a chance to survive. If any one of us fails in our duty, the system fails. Therefore, our survival truly rests on each of us,
entirely
.”

Shao-Lo nods again with satisfaction. “How many of the enemy would you kill to ensure our survival?”

“
All of them
, sir.”

The colonel
stares at Beckert without hostility, mentally weighing the candidate before her. “What do you think, Major?”

“I’m satisfied, Colonel,” Chusan replies.

Shao-Lo whirls to face the corps of Operators behind her. “Do you believe Specialist Beckert has demonstrated his worth?”

The numerous voices merge into a startling and strident baritone,
“
sir, yes, sir
!”

Shao-Lo
turns again to face the bare-chested initiate. The corners of Beckert’s mouth betray how hard he is trying to restrain his elation. Allowing a slight smile herself, she adds, “Major Chusan, would you do us the honor?”

“Sir!” Chusan shouts, stepping in front of Beckert and affixing a diamond-hard stare. “Specialist Beckert, do you swear to defend and provide for the cadre even to the cost of your own life, to obey every order swiftly and effectively, to exemplify the standards of the operator’s code, and to make the survival of humanity your personal responsibility?”

Beckert returns the gaze and, in absolute sincerity, declares, “With all that I am,
i swear it
!”

Chusan holds his left arm straight out to one side, and Major Ralla steps from the crowd, holding a folded charcoal uniform. She drapes it carefully over Chusan’s extended limb, winking at Beckert before returning to the crowd. Chusan swings his arm forward, presenting the uniform to
Beckert. “Welcome to the Corps,
Sergeant
.”

For the first time ever, the colonists see a smile cross Chusan’s granite face.

Beaming with pride, the new Geek takes his charcoal uniform, holding it to his chest like a cherished gift while the Corps thunderously cheers, “
Sergeant Beckert
,
hurrah! hurrah! hurrah
!”

A gentle pressure lands on his shoulder, and when he looks, the MedTechs are urging him down into a stretcher.

“What? No, I’m fine,” he protests, but Chusan leans in.

“Go with them and let them take care of you. I know you’re in pain.”

“Yes, sir!” Beckert compliantly lays himself down, still clutching his dress grays. The MedTechs hoist the stretcher and parade the cadre’s newest Geek past his cheering comrades. The group pushes in close so they can all give him a solid punch in the arm on the way by.

Chusan points at Deepak and Keiko who are just buttoning up their jackets. “You two, report to MedLab.”

The Guns salute and stride out after the MedTechs.

Shao-Lo leans into Chusan, adding, “Resume the duty schedule. I’ll be in engineering if you need me.”

“Sir!” Chusan answers, swinging a flat hand up to his brow. Facing his corps, he calls out in his characteristically harsh tone, “
attention
!”

All face front.

“
resume duty schedule! corps, dismissed
!”

The
Operators salute as a single unit and file out in orderly fashion, leaving Keller, the counselor, Ortega, Sharon, and Gregor standing on their chairs, still reeling with amazement.

The counselor pauses from his frantic typing to gaze at the walls of his new cadre office. His usual crisp appearance has slipped, his white shirt is wrinkled with a curling collar, and his dark hair juts at odd angles.

On his desk, three monitors face him, all of
which have different information displayed; and beside them, a stack of data disks await his attention. From the left monitor, he draws on his notes from interviews he has completed with each individual. In the right monitor, he reviews the subject’s work history and service record and combines all of that data with his own perceptions into a detailed report in the center monitor.

As his eyes wander the walls, it is neither the Spartan décor nor the metal walls that make him pause. It is the fact he
actually volunteered
to psychologically profile the cadre for General O’Kai.

While once deeming himself intelligent, he now scans the room for some sign of just what the
hell
he was thinking. Sighing deeply, he gets back to work when the door chime sounds.

“It’s open!” he calls out.

There is no reply. He stops typing and looks toward the door. “Come in!”

The door slides aside, and a young cadre woman hobbles in
, carrying another armload of data disks. “I’ve f-f-finished admin-min-istering the tests, C-Counselor. W-where w-w-would you like them?”

Gesturing to the edge of his desk, he answers, “Just put them here with the others.”

She sets them down carefully and steps back. “Is there anything else, s-s-sir?”

The counselor smiles gratefully at her, “No, Arjay, that’s all I need for now, thank you.”

Arjay stands as straight as she can and snaps a salute.

“Oh no, you don’t have to salute me!” The counselor protests, but confusion sets on the woman’s face.

“But you’re my s-s-superior... W-w-why would I not?”

He looks into her face and considers explaining the difference between being a cadre subordinate and being someone’s assistant when he remembers the stack of data disks still waiting to be reviewed. “Never mind, that’ll be fine, thank you.”

She smiles pleasantly and steps from his office. He grins and shakes his head once, diving back into his work.

“
Counselor
,” the intercom blares, “
your presence is requested by Lieutenant Colonel Anders
.”

The counselor perks up mid-keystroke.

“Colonel
Anders
?”

Peering down at his center screen, he saves his work and closes it out, much more interested in meeting a new cadre officer. When his monitors wink off, however, he catches his reflection in the shiny screens. Grimacing, he smoothes his hair down with both hands and tucks his shirt in tight to stretch out the creases. Rising from his seat, he snatches his white coat from the back of his chair and hurries from his office.

When he steps out into the bright corridor, he immediately realizes he has no idea where to go, so he scans the corridors and asks the first person he sees: an armed and armored Gun with two healing black eyes and white tape across the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse me,” the counselor begs, “I need to find Colonel Anders’s office. Can you direct me?”

“Of course,” the large man affirms. “I’ll take you there.” Into his helmet microphone, the Gun states, “Major Chusan, this is Gun Deepak. I am escorting Counselor to Colonel Anders’ chamber and will resume patrol in seven minutes.”

“Confirmed,
Deepak,”
comes his radioed reply.

The tall soldier
looks expectantly at the counselor. “Please follow me.” Deepak shifts the rifle on his shoulder and marches briskly in a new direction. The counselor hurries after him, trotting to keep pace with the Gun’s long strides.

The corridors turn and branch, then straighten out into a long, narrowing hallway barely big enough for a Brick to fit through. With each step, the counselor feels himself becoming more buoyant.

“Is it me,” the counselor asks, “or are we getting lighter?”

“You’re correct. Cadre
One is a large ring tunneled into this asteroid,” Deepak explains. “The gravity enhancement is strongest at its rim. We're moving toward the center where only the asteroid’s natural gravity has effect, roughly one quarter normal.”

“Why is the Colonel’s office way out here?”

“Colonel Anders and others like him have mobility issues. The lower gravity makes it more comfortable for them.”

Soon, the door at the end of the corridor is visible, and the counselor has to concentrate on his gait not to bounce himself into the close ceiling.

“Have you completed my profile?” Deepak asks.

“No, not yet, though I don’t think there’ll be any surprises. I can’t imagine anyone better suited for your tasks than you.”

The counselor was speaking earnestly, but Deepak grins proudly. Stepping ahead, he taps a button at the door.

“Colonel Anders, the counselor is here to see you.”

The door shifts with a hiss and slides aside smoothly, permitting the counselor his first look inside.

“I must return to patrol,” Deepak states, catching the counselor a bit off guard. “Call for me if I may assist.”

“Thank you, Deepak,” the counselor replies absently as he peers into the red-illuminated chamber beyond.

A labored voice, originating from the nose
and back of the throat, beckons, “Come in, Counselor.”

At first, all he can see are piles of interconnected computers and machines. Cautiously stepping inside, the counselor ducks
under suspended monitors and cables.

“Here,” the voice guides, and he looks over a bank of terminals to find its source.

Propped up in a recliner is a withered man, head slumped to one side. What sprouts from his torso more resemble gnarled roots than limbs. Multiple tubes and cables feed into his skull, neck, chest, and abdomen; and on his crown rests the familiar HDI of a cadre Geek. The man’s chest rises and falls in short breaths. Arrayed around his recliner are numerous panels and Holowindows scrolling with staggering amounts of data and graphics.

The counselor takes in the entire scene, politely studying his host. Even with all the tubes, disfigurement and hardware, there is something familiar about him.

“Ah, Counselor,” the colonel smiles contortedly, his speech interrupted by shallow inhales. “I’m glad…you could come.”

“How could I refuse a colonel’s invitation?”

Anders receives the flattery warmly and, with a curled arm, gestures the counselor toward a chair.

“Is your office… adequate?”

“Perfectly so. And thank you for making time to see me.” The counselor pauses to look around at all the electronic activity around him. “I can see that you’re very busy.”

“Yes...you
, too.” He again inhales deeply. “Your ideas on the mind… Fascinating...and useful.”

Anders clears the largest display panel in front of him so they both can view it. On it, images of Thompson, Argo, and Maiella appear, filling the wide screen. The pictures shrink and slide left into a vertical column while statistics and descriptions appear to their right. Anders continues, drawing deep breaths at every pause.

“Gun Thompson, and Brick Argo... perfect test record since reassignment. Exceeded endurance expectations... no errors. Reviewed favorably…by Major Ralla and Major Chusan. Geek Maiella... Exemplary performance…after reassignment. Approved for partial restoration of HDI… Surgery successful.”

Anders falls silent. His clear eyes peer out at the counselor from behind his
goggles. “We are few... To have them restored…is a tremendous gift. You are to thank.”

The counselor looks at his feet modestly. “I’m glad I could help.” When he looks up, he sees he is still being intently studied. Curling his face into a question, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

“O’Kai said you were...different from the others.” He draws a particularly deep breath, and there is a long pause before he adds, “Now I understand.”

The counselor nods, accepting the colonel’s observation.

“We do not...understand the colonists. Their motives...elude us. Yet our groups...must combine. You are able...to bridge gaps...in communication. We will depend...on you.”

“I’m available anytime you need me.” Looking closer at his host, the counselor finally begins to understand what seems so familiar. “May I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Are you
related
to Major Ralla?”

Anders smiles fondly. “Much of my genetic code…pertaining to intellect, cognitive ability...passed on to her. She received some of...my other qualities...as well.”

“I see,” the counselor notes, stroking his chin, but the resemblance to Ralla raises another question in him. “I’ve worked closely with the cadre leadership council and never heard your name until today. Are you on the council?”

“No,” Anders answers directly.

“As a Colonel, how could that be?”

Anders blinks. “In leadership...speed of word and action...are paramount. I have neither. I advise...with authority. They decide...and act.”

The counselor leans back in his chair passing his eyes over the chamber again. The screens have never ceased their copious streams of information, and the counselor becomes self-conscious.

“Have I distracted you from your work?”

“No. These monitors display...my output. You have not...interrupted.”

The counselor looks into the monitors with renewed interest, trying to fathom how one person could concentrate on so many tasks at once. As his eyes move from one display to the next, he sees streams of data and code, coupled to images of circuit paths that rotate and change in three dimensions.

“Are these from the new ship being built?”

“Yes,” Anders replies and inhales deeply. “Many systems require...massive revisions...and increase
d efficiency.” He inhales again. “Your colonist engineers...have been great assistance...especially with aerodynamics.”

The counselor narrows his focus to one particular view of the ship’s exterior—a
teardrop sliced in half the long way like the virus ships, but much wider, with three bulges on the flat side.

Pointing at the lumps, he asks, “Is this where the
Operators sit?”

“Yes. Each occupant...enclosed in crash pod...for free fall after ejection.” He inhales deeply. “We wish to simulate...meteoric event.”

“If the blueskins investigate the crash site, won’t they find debris?”

Anders nods slightly. “Operators will detonate...thermal explosives. Will vaporize all...but the smallest particles. Should give the team...a head start.”

Anders lolls his head to his shoulder, looking at his guest as directly as he can. “Making Geek Maiella...project auditor...
very
risky. How did you know…she could do it?”

The counselor smiles with confidence. “What I saw her accomplish on the
Europa
, I knew she could do anything. And making her responsible for the safety of her teammates?” He shakes his head. “There was no way she would let herself fail. They mean more to her than anything.”

The counselor looks back at the colonel, and Anders’s amiable expression is gone.

Instantly, the counselor realizes what he has said. Maiella is, in the cadre’s view, unnaturally attached to her team, yet another disappointment to heap on the pile. He curses himself, being so loose lipped; but at the very least, she is safely in his custody. She will not be harmed. He pushes through his anger with himself, forcing himself to meet the colonel’s gaze again.

“We are fortunate...” Anders begins, “to have someone...with excellent understanding…of the mind. We do not like the reason...but value that Geek Maiella is functional again. Proves we must stay open...to possibilities we would not have considered...in the future.”

Relief fills the counselor as he realizes the colonel is admitting his mistake in advocating Maiella’s lobotomy.

Moving on, the counselor asks, “Argo and Thompson have been sequestered for weeks now. How much longer will they be in special training?”

“Ralla and her staff…simulating as many contingencies...as they can conceive. When she feels...they are ready…she will release them. After that…they will integrate...with new teammate...Geek Beckert.”

“Beckert?” the counselor echoes as he recalls the induction at the arena.

The name also conjures a recollection of one of the cadre’s more interesting personalities. In the psychological profile interview, Beckert seemed bright, optimistic, and unusually curious. He had a thirst for not just knowledge, but understanding. There was no doubt he would make an outstanding Geek even to Thompson’s and Argo’s standards, but the counselor gets a twinge of sadness at the thought of someone so young being sent on a mission with no hope of return.

Beckert’s inquisitive mind made him an ideal student, and the counselor wishes he had more time to spend
with an open-minded operator—one who could learn and understand the colonists’ ways would go far toward helping ease tensions between the two groups. The feeling may be a bit selfish, he realizes, but being the
only
liaison between the two groups has been a crushing burden. Having someone to share that burden would have been welcome.