The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi

::Every human has a sense of humor. We just don’t have their sense of humor. Tell me one of your pilot’s jokes.::
    ::All right,:: Jared said, and repeated the Sherlock Holmes joke.
    ::See, now, that’s just stupid,:: Dirac said. ::As if Watson wouldn’t know that the tent was missing. This is the problem with realborn humor. It’s predicated on the notion that someone’s an idiot. There’s no shame in not having that sense of humor.:: Brahe radiated a sense of irritation; Jared decided not to carry the topic of conversation further.
    Instead, Jared asked, ::Is everyone here Special Forces?::
    ::They are,:: Brahe said. ::Camp Carson is one of only two training sites for Special Forces, and the only training base of any kind on Phoenix. See how the camp is ringed by forest?:: Brahe motioned with his head to the edge of the camp, where earth-derived trees and native Phoenix megaflora competed for supremacy. ::We’re more than six hundred klicks from civilization in any direction.::
    ::Why?:: Jared asked, remembering Brahe’s earlier comment about the realborn. ::Are they trying to keep us away from everybody else?::
    ::They’re trying to keep everybody else away from us, :: Brahe said. ::Special Forces training isn’t like training for realborn. We don’t need the distraction of regular CDF or civilians, and they might misinterpret what they see here. It’s best if we’re left alone to do what we do, and to do our training in peace.::
    ::I understand I am behind in my training,:: Jared said.
    ::Not in your training,:: Brahe said. ::In your integration. We begin training tomorrow. But your integration is as important. You can’t train if you’re not integrated.::
    ::How do I integrate?:: Jared asked.
    ::First, you meet your training mates,:: Brahe said, and stopped at the door of a small barracks. ::Here we are. I’ve told them you’re here; they’re waiting for you.:: Brahe opened the door to let Jared in.
    The barracks were sparsely furnished and like every barracks for the last few centuries. Two rows of eight beds lined the sides of the barracks. In and among them fifteen men and women sat and stood, eyes focused on Jared. He felt overwhelmed by the sudden attention; his BrainPal unpacked the concept of “shy.” He felt the urge to say hello to his training mates, and was suddenly aware that he wasn’t sure how to speak to more than one person through his BrainPal; near simultaneously he realized that he could just open his mouth and speak. The complexities of communication confounded him.
    â€œHello,” he said, finally. Some of his future training mates smiled at his primitive form of communication. None of them returned the salutation.
    ::I don’t think I’m off to a good start,:: Jared sent to Brahe.
    ::They’re waiting to say their introductions after you’ve integrated,:: Brahe said.
    ::When do I do that?:: Jared asked.
    ::Now,:: Brahe said, and integrated Jared with his training mates.
    Jared had about a tenth of a second of mild surprise as his BrainPal informed him that as his superior officer, Brahe had limited access to his BrainPal, and then that datum was superseded by the fact that suddenly there were fifteen other people in Jared’s head, and he was in the heads of fifteen other people. An uncontrolled bolt of information seared through Jared’s consciousness as fifteen life stories poured into him and his own meager store of experiences branched into fifteen pipelines. Salutations and introductions were unnecessary and superfluous; in an instant Jared knew and felt everything he would need to know about these fifteen strangers who were now as intimately part of him as any human could be with another human. It was a mercy that each of these lives was unnaturally short.
    Jared collapsed.
    Â 
    ::That was interesting,:: Jared heard someone say. Almost instantaneously he recognized the comment as