Old Man's War Part 18

I sighed and then told them, for probably the twentieth time, about why I gave permission to blow the Modesto Modesto's shuttle bay doors.

"How's your jaw?" Dr. Fiorina asked.

"Fully functional and ready to chew on something," I said. "Not that I don't like soup through a straw, but it gets monotonous after a while."

"I sympathize," Fiorina said. "Now let's look at the leg." I pulled down the covers and let him take a look-the ring was now halfway down the calf. "Excellent," he said. "I want you to start walking on that. The unprocessed portion will support your weight, and it'll be good to give the leg a little exercise. I'll give you a cane to use for the next couple of days. I notice you have some friends who come to visit you. Why don't you have them take you to lunch or something."

"You don't have to tell me twice," I said, and flexed the new leg a little. "Good as new," I said.

"Better," Fiorina said. "We've made a few improvements to the CDF body structure since you were enlisted. They've been incorporated into the leg, and the rest of your body will feel the benefit, too."

"Makes you wonder why the CDF just doesn't go all the way," I said. "Replace the body with something designed totally for war."

Fiorina looked up from his data pad. "You have green skin, cat's eyes, and a computer in your skull," he said. "How much less less human do you want to be?" human do you want to be?"

"That's a good point," I said.

"Indeed," Fiorina said. "I'll have an orderly bring in that cane." He tapped his data pad to send the order.

"Hey, doc," I said. "Did you treat anybody else who came off the Sparrowhawk Sparrowhawk?"

"No," he said. "Really, Corporal, you were challenge enough."

"So none of the Sparrowhawk Sparrowhawk crew?" crew?"

Fiorina smirked. "Oh, no. They're Special Forces."

"So?"

"Let's just say they have special needs," Fiorina said, and then the orderly came in with my cane.

"You know what you can find out about the Ghost Brigades? Officially, I mean," Harry said.

"I'm guessing not a lot," I said.

"Not a lot is an overstatement," Harry said. "You can't find out a d.a.m.n thing."

Harry, Jesse and I were lunching at one of Phoenix station's commissaries. For my first trip out, I suggested we go as far away from Brenneman as we could. This particular commissary was on the other side of the station. The view was nothing special-it overlooked a small shipyard-but was known stationwide for its burgers, and the reputation was justified; the cook, in his past life, had begun a chain of specialty hamburger restaurants. For a literal hole in the wall, it was constantly packed. But my and Harry's burgers were growing cold as we talked about the Ghost Brigades.

"I asked Javna and Newman about getting a note to the Sparrowhawk Sparrowhawk and got stonewalled," I said. and got stonewalled," I said.

"Not surprised," Harry said. "Officially, the Sparrowhawk Sparrowhawk exists, but that's all you can find out. You can't find out anything about its crew, its size, its armament or its location. All the information isn't there. Do a more general search on Special Forces or 'Ghost Brigades' in the CDF database and you likewise get nothing." exists, but that's all you can find out. You can't find out anything about its crew, its size, its armament or its location. All the information isn't there. Do a more general search on Special Forces or 'Ghost Brigades' in the CDF database and you likewise get nothing."

"So you guys have nothing at all," Jesse said.

"Oh, I didn't say that, that," Harry said, and smiled. "You can't find out anything officially, but unofficially there's lots to know."

"And how do you manage to find information unofficially?" Jesse said.

"Well, you know," Harry said. "My sparkling personality does wonders."

"Please," Jesse said. "I'm eating here. Which is more than you two can say."

"So what did you find out?" I asked, and took a bite of my burger. It was fabulous.

"Understand that this is all rumor and innuendo," Harry said.

"Which means that it's probably more accurate than what we'd get officially," I said.

"Possibly," Harry granted. "The big news is that there is indeed a reason why they're called 'Ghost Brigades.' It's not an official designation, you know. It's a nickname. The rumor, which I've heard from more than one place, is that Special Forces members are dead people."

"Excuse me?" I said. Jesse looked up from her burger.

"Not real dead people, per se," Harry said. "They're not zombies. But there are a lot of people who sign up to join the CDF who die before their seventy-fifth birthday. When that happens, apparently the CDF doesn't just throw out your DNA. They use it to make Special Forces members."

Something hit me. "Jesse, you remember when Leon Deak died? What the medical technician said? 'A last-minute volunteer for the Ghost Brigades.' I thought it was just some kind of sick joke."

"How can they do that?" Jesse asked. "That's not ethical at all."

"Isn't it?" Harry said. "When you give your intent to sign up, you give the CDF the right to use whatever procedures necessary to enhance your combat readiness, and you can't be combat ready if you're dead. It's in the contract. If it's not ethical, it's at least legal."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between using my DNA to create a new body for me to use, and using the new body without me me in it," Jesse said. in it," Jesse said.

"Details, details," Harry said.

"I don't like the idea of my body running around on its own," Jesse said. "I don't think it's right for the CDF to do that."

"Well, that's not all they do," Harry said. "You know that these new bodies we have are deeply genetically modified. Well, apparently Special Forces bodies are even more modified than ours. The Special Forces soldiers are guinea pigs for new enhancements and abilities before they're introduced into the general population. And there are rumors that some of the modifications are truly radical-bodies modified to the point of not looking human anymore."

"My doctor said something about Special Forces soldiers having special needs," I said. "But even allowing for hallucinations, the people who rescued me looked human enough."

"And we didn't see any mutants or freaks on the Sparrowhawk, Sparrowhawk," Jesse said.

"We weren't allowed full run of the ship, either," Harry pointed out. "They kept us in one area and kept us disconnected from everything else. We saw the sick bay and we saw the rec area, and that was it."

"People see Special Forces in battle and walking around all the time," Jesse said.

"Sure they do," Harry said. "But that's not saying that they see all all of them." of them."

"Your paranoia is acting up again, sweetie," Jesse said, and fed Harry a french fry.

"Thank you, precious," Harry said, accepting it. "But even throwing out the rumor about supermodified Special Forces, there's still enough there to account for John seeing his wife. It's not really Kathy, though. Just someone using her body."

"Who?" I said.

"Well, that's the question, isn't it," Harry said. "Your wife is dead, so they couldn't put her personality into the body. Either they have some sort of preformatted personality they put into Special Forces soldiers-"

"-or someone else went from an old body into her new one," I said.

Jesse shivered. "I'm sorry, John. But that's just creepy."

"John? You okay?" Harry said.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "It's just a lot to deal with at one time. The idea that my wife could be alive-but not really-and that someone who isn't isn't her is walking around in her skin. I think I almost preferred it when there was a possibility that I hallucinated her." her is walking around in her skin. I think I almost preferred it when there was a possibility that I hallucinated her."

I looked over to Harry and Jesse. Both of them were frozen and staring.

"Guys?" I said.

"Speak of the devil," said Harry.

"What?" I said.

"John," Jesse said. "She's in line for a burger."

I spun around, knocking over my plate as I did so. Then I felt like I got dunked directly into a vat of ice.

"Holy s.h.i.t," I said.

It was her. No doubt about it.

FOURTEEN.

I started to get up. Harry grabbed my hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to go talk to her," I said.

"You sure you want to do that?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course I'm sure."

"What I'm saying is that maybe you'd want Jesse or me to talk to her first," Harry said. "To see if she wants to meet you."

"Jesus, Harry," I said. "This isn't the sixth f.u.c.king grade. That's my wife."

"No it's not, not, John," Harry said. "It's someone entirely different. You don't know if she will even want to speak to you." John," Harry said. "It's someone entirely different. You don't know if she will even want to speak to you."

"John, even if she does speak to you, you're going to be two total strangers," Jesse said. "Whatever you're expecting out of this encounter, you're not going to get it."

"I'm not expecting anything," I said.

"We just don't want you to be hurt," Jesse said.

"I'll be fine," I said, and looked at them both. "Please. Let me go, Harry. I'll be fine."

Harry and Jesse looked at each other. Harry let go of my hand.

"Thank you," I said.

"What are you going to say to her?" Harry wanted to know.

"I'm going to tell her thanks for saving my life," I said, and got up.

By this time, she and two companions had got their orders and had made their way to a small table farther back in the commissary. I threaded my way to the table. The three of them were talking, but stopped as I approached. She had her back to me as I approached, and turned as her companions glanced up at me. I stopped as I got a look at her face.

It was different, of course. Beyond the obvious skin and eyes, she was so much younger than Kathy had been-a face that was as Kathy was half a century before. Even then, it was different; leaner than Kathy's had ever been, keeping with the CDF genetically-installed predisposition for fitness. Kathy's hair had always been a nearly uncontrolled mane, even as she aged and most other women switched to more matronly cuts; the woman in front of me kept her hair close on her head and off her collar.

It was the hair that was the most jarring. It'd been so long since I'd seen a person without green skin that it didn't register with me anymore. But the hair was nothing that I remembered.

"It's not nice to stare," the woman said, using Kathy's voice. "And before you ask, you're not my type."

Yes I am, a part of my brain said. a part of my brain said.

"I'm sorry, I don't really mean to intrude," I said. "I was just wondering if you might recognize me."

She flicked her eyes up and down on me. "I really don't," she said. "And trust me, we weren't in basic training together."

"You rescued me," I said. "On Coral."

She perked up a little at this. "No s.h.i.t," she said. "No wonder I didn't recognize you. The last time I saw you, you were missing the lower half of your head. No offense. And no offense to this, either, but I'm amazed you're still alive. I wouldn't have bet on you to make it."

"I had something to live for," I said.

"Apparently," she said.

"I'm John Perry," I said, and held out my hand. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Jane Sagan," she said, taking it. I held it a little longer than I should have. She had a slightly puzzled expression when I finally let go.

"Corporal Perry," one of her companions began; he had taken the opportunity to access information about me from his Brain-Pal, "we're kind of in a rush to eat here; we have to be back to our ship in a half hour, so if you don't mind-"

"Do you recognize me from anywhere else?" I asked Jane, cutting him off.

"No," she said, slightly frosty now. "Thanks for coming over, but now I'd really like to eat."

"Let me send you something," I said. "A picture. Through your BrainPal."

"That's really not necessary," Jane said.

"One picture," I said. "Then I'll go. Humor me."