Peter Watts - Firefall

You can’t do that, Brüks thought, astonished. You’re stuck in the Hold for another three days.

“ Prothat blemsto bethe? ” Ofoegbu’s hands fluttered like a pianist’s against an invisible keyboard. The light in his eyes slithered like the aurora borealis.

I don’t care how smart you are. You’re still made out of meat. You can’t just step out of a decompression chamber.

The Bicameral’s blood must be fizzing in its flesh. All those bubbles out on early parole, all those gases freed from the weight of too many atmospheres: all set loose to party it up in the joints and capillaries…​

One’s all it’ll take, one tiny bubble in the brain. A pinpoint embolism in the right spot and you’re dead , just like that.

“Your vampire —” Sengupta began, before Moore preempted her with: “We have some mission-critical issues to deal with…”

But there is no you anymore, is there? You’re just a body part, just a node in a network. Expendable. When the hive cuts you loose, will you get it all back? Will Chinedum Ofoegbu wake up in time to die a roach’s death? Will he change his mind too late, will he have a chance to feel betrayed before he stops feeling anything at all?

Ofoegbu coughed a fine red mist into the room. Blood and stars bubbled in his eyes. He began to fold at the middle.

Lianna Lutterodt climbed up in his wake, bent in on herself, one arm clenched tight to her side. With the other she reached out, wincing; but her master was too far away. She pushed off the lip of the south pole, floated free, caught him. Every movement took a visible toll.

“If you people are through trying to kill each other”—she coughed, tried again—“maybe someone could help me get him back to the Hold before he fucking dies .”

“Holy shit, ” Brüks said, dropping back into Commons. The node was back with its network. Lianna was meshed and casted and had retreated to her rack while her broken parts stitched themselves back together.

Moore had already cracked open the scotch. He held out a glass.

Brüks almost giggled. “Are you kidding? Now? ”

The Colonel glanced at the other man’s hands: they trembled. “Now.”

Brüks took the tumbler, emptied it. Moore refilled it without asking.

“This can’t go on,” Brüks said.

“It won’t. It didn’t.”

“So Chinedum stopped her. This time. And it just about killed him.”

“Chinedum was only the interface, and she knows that. She would have gained nothing and risked everything by attacking him.”

“What if she’d pulled that shit a few days ago? What if she pulls it again?” He shook his head. “Lee could have been killed . It was just dumb luck that—”

“We got off lightly,” Moore reminded him. “Compared to some.”

Brüks fell silent. She killed one of her zombies.

“Why did she do it?” he asked after a moment. “Food? Fun?”

“It’s a problem,” the Colonel admitted. “Of course it’s a problem.”

“Can’t we do anything?”

“Not at the moment.” He took a breath. “Technically, Sengupta did attack first.”

“Because Valerie killed someone!”

“We don’t know that. And even if she did, there are—jurisdictional issues. She may have been within her rights, legally. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Brüks stared, speechless.

“We’re a hundred million klicks from the nearest legitimate authority,” Moore reminded him. “Any that might happen by wouldn’t look more kindly on us than on Valerie. Legalities are irrelevant out here; we just have to play the hand we’re dealt. Fortunately we’re not entirely on our own. The Bicamerals are at least as smart and capable as she is. Smarter.”

“I’m not worried about their capabilities . I don’t trust them.”

“Do you trust me?” Moore asked unexpectedly.

Brüks considered a moment. “Yes.”

The Colonel inclined his head. “Then trust them.”

“I trust your intentions, ” Brüks amended softly.

“Ah. I see.”

“You’re too close to them, Jim.”

“No closer than you’ve been, lately.”

“They had their hooks into you way before I joined the party. You and Lianna, the way you just— accept everything…”

Moore said nothing.

Brüks tried again. “Look, don’t get me wrong. You went up against a vampire for us, and you could’ve been killed, and I know that. I’m grateful. But we got lucky, Jim: you’re usually wrapped up in that little ConSensus shell you’ve built for yourself, and if Valerie had chosen any other time to torque out—”

“I’m wrapped up in that shell, ” Moore said levelly, “dealing with a potential threat to the whole—”

“Uh-huh. And how many new insights have you gained, squeezing the same signals over and over again since we broke orbit?”

“I’m sorry if that leaves you feeling vulnerable. But your fears are unfounded. And in any case”—Moore swallowed his own dram—“planetary security has to take priority.”

“This isn’t about planetary security,” Brüks said.

“Of course it is.”

“Bullshit. It’s about your son.”

Moore blinked.

“Siri Keeton, synthesist on the Theseus mission,” Brüks continued, more gently. “It’s not as though the crew roster was any kind of secret.”

“So.” Moore’s voice was glassy and expressionless. “You’re not as completely self-absorbed as you appear.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Brüks tried.

“Don’t. The presence of my son on that mission doesn’t change the facts on the ground. We’re dealing with agents of unknown origin and vastly superior technology. It is my job —”

“And you’re doing that job with a brain that still runs on love and kin selection and all those other Stone Age things we seem hell-bent on cutting out of the equation. That would be enough to tear anyone apart, but it’s even harder for you, isn’t it? Because one of those facts on the ground is that you’re the reason he was out there in the first place.”

“He’s out there because he’s the most qualified for the mission. Full stop. Anyone in my place would have made the same decision.”

“Sure. But we both know why he was the most qualified.”

Moore’s face turned to granite.

“He was most qualified,” Brüks continued, “because he got certain augments during childhood. And he got those augments because you chose a certain line of work with certain risks, and one day some asshole with a grudge and a splicer kit took a shot at you and hit him instead. You think it’s your fault that some Realist fuckwit missed the target. You blame yourself for what happened to your son. It’s what parents do .”

“And you know all about being a parent.”

“I know about being Human, Jim. I know what people tell themselves. You made Siri the man for the job before he was even born, and when the Fireflies dropped in you had to put him at the top of the list and ship him out and now all you’ve got is those goddamned signals, that’s your last link, and I understand, man. It’s natural, it’s Human, it’s, it’s inevitable because you and I, we haven’t gotten around to cutting those parts out of us yet. But just about everyone else around here has, and we can’t afford to ignore that. We can’t afford to be—distracted. Not here, not now .”

He held out his glass, and felt a vague and distant kind of relief at how steady his hand was around the crystal. Colonel Jim Moore regarded it for a moment. Looked back at the half-empty bottle.