Strait.
“Why would you be in the loop?” asked MacAvoy. “Your birds can’t even leave the atmosphere. If the Navy runs a covert operation in Pennsylvania, maybe they’ll let you know.”
“Did they tell you about the operation?” asked Strait.
“They did not,” said MacAvoy. “Need-to-know basis . . . the only thing the Army needs to know is who to shoot. That’s why we’re still relevant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Strait.
He knew what it meant.
MacAvoy was playing with Strait and enjoying himself. He asked, “What do you think it means, Flyboy?” Strait tried to ignore him. He started to say something to Hauser, then turned back to MacAvoy, and said, “Get specked, asshole.”
MacAvoy answered with a satisfied smile.
Hauser asked, “May we continue?”
He should be running the empire,
I thought.
It never should have been me.
Marines don’t run governments; they break things and kill people.
Hauser knew how to run a fleet, a full-blown society. He understood politics. Knowing that my figurative firing squad waited around the corner, I decided to pull the trigger myself. Expecting Hauser to say that someone had leaked information about the operation and prepared to confess my part, I asked, “How did they capture the ship?”
Hauser said, “We don’t know what happened to her.”
I asked, “Could somebody have leaked information?”
“I don’t see how,” said Hauser. “You and I were the only officers who knew about the operation.”
I got as far as saying, “What if,” before MacAvoy A) kicked me under the table, and not gently, either, and B) shouted, “Could they have been reprogrammed? Tasman says that reprogramming can cause clones to have a death reflex?”
Hauser covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed once, then said, “We’ve analyzed their automated flight log. The ship may have been captured. Something happened after she broadcasted into Terraneau space; the question is what. Once she broadcasted in, her flight records stop.”
“Are there any signs of battle?” asked Strait.
“
Magellan
is an Explorer. There wouldn’t have been enough of her left if she got in a scrape.”
I said, “If somebody warned the Unifieds . . .”
MacAvoy kicked me again. Speaking over me, he said, “Okay, if the Unies captured the ship, why kill the crew with a specking death reflex? Wouldn’t it be easier to shoot ’em?”
The son of a bitch was trying to protect me. Hauser didn’t know about Sunny, and MacAvoy didn’t want me to blow the whistle on myself.
“Good question,” said Hauser.
“Have you sent the crew in for autopsies?” asked Strait.
“There’s no point; we know what killed them,” said Hauser. “They had blood coming out of their ears.”
“We know how they died,” I agreed, “but that doesn’t mean we know what killed them.” At that point, I had forgotten all about Sunny.
I looked over at MacAvoy, and said, “Kick me again, and we’re going to have a problem.”
He nodded.
Then I turned back to Admiral Hauser. I said, “I just spoke with Howard Tasman. He says the clones we chased out of that underwater city knew they were clones.”
“And it caused a death reflex?” asked Hauser.
“No; it didn’t cause a death reflex. The Unifieds reprogrammed them so they could know they were clones. What killed them was surrendering to us. Tasman thinks they were programmed to die before we could capture them.”
MacAvoy said, “What does that have to do with the ship Hauser found in space? You wouldn’t go to all the trouble of reprogramming clones just to watch them die.”
“You would if they were guinea pigs,” said General Strait.
For once, I agreed with him.
So did Hauser. He stopped and thought about it, then said, “We’d better get started on the autopsies.”
CHAPTER
TEN
We all went our separate ways, Hauser to the Navy offices, MacAvoy to his Army area, me to my presidential palace on
“Why would you be in the loop?” asked MacAvoy. “Your birds can’t even leave the atmosphere. If the Navy runs a covert operation in Pennsylvania, maybe they’ll let you know.”
“Did they tell you about the operation?” asked Strait.
“They did not,” said MacAvoy. “Need-to-know basis . . . the only thing the Army needs to know is who to shoot. That’s why we’re still relevant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Strait.
He knew what it meant.
MacAvoy was playing with Strait and enjoying himself. He asked, “What do you think it means, Flyboy?” Strait tried to ignore him. He started to say something to Hauser, then turned back to MacAvoy, and said, “Get specked, asshole.”
MacAvoy answered with a satisfied smile.
Hauser asked, “May we continue?”
He should be running the empire,
I thought.
It never should have been me.
Marines don’t run governments; they break things and kill people.
Hauser knew how to run a fleet, a full-blown society. He understood politics. Knowing that my figurative firing squad waited around the corner, I decided to pull the trigger myself. Expecting Hauser to say that someone had leaked information about the operation and prepared to confess my part, I asked, “How did they capture the ship?”
Hauser said, “We don’t know what happened to her.”
I asked, “Could somebody have leaked information?”
“I don’t see how,” said Hauser. “You and I were the only officers who knew about the operation.”
I got as far as saying, “What if,” before MacAvoy A) kicked me under the table, and not gently, either, and B) shouted, “Could they have been reprogrammed? Tasman says that reprogramming can cause clones to have a death reflex?”
Hauser covered his mouth with a handkerchief and coughed once, then said, “We’ve analyzed their automated flight log. The ship may have been captured. Something happened after she broadcasted into Terraneau space; the question is what. Once she broadcasted in, her flight records stop.”
“Are there any signs of battle?” asked Strait.
“
Magellan
is an Explorer. There wouldn’t have been enough of her left if she got in a scrape.”
I said, “If somebody warned the Unifieds . . .”
MacAvoy kicked me again. Speaking over me, he said, “Okay, if the Unies captured the ship, why kill the crew with a specking death reflex? Wouldn’t it be easier to shoot ’em?”
The son of a bitch was trying to protect me. Hauser didn’t know about Sunny, and MacAvoy didn’t want me to blow the whistle on myself.
“Good question,” said Hauser.
“Have you sent the crew in for autopsies?” asked Strait.
“There’s no point; we know what killed them,” said Hauser. “They had blood coming out of their ears.”
“We know how they died,” I agreed, “but that doesn’t mean we know what killed them.” At that point, I had forgotten all about Sunny.
I looked over at MacAvoy, and said, “Kick me again, and we’re going to have a problem.”
He nodded.
Then I turned back to Admiral Hauser. I said, “I just spoke with Howard Tasman. He says the clones we chased out of that underwater city knew they were clones.”
“And it caused a death reflex?” asked Hauser.
“No; it didn’t cause a death reflex. The Unifieds reprogrammed them so they could know they were clones. What killed them was surrendering to us. Tasman thinks they were programmed to die before we could capture them.”
MacAvoy said, “What does that have to do with the ship Hauser found in space? You wouldn’t go to all the trouble of reprogramming clones just to watch them die.”
“You would if they were guinea pigs,” said General Strait.
For once, I agreed with him.
So did Hauser. He stopped and thought about it, then said, “We’d better get started on the autopsies.”
CHAPTER
TEN
We all went our separate ways, Hauser to the Navy offices, MacAvoy to his Army area, me to my presidential palace on
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