The End of All Things (14 page)

“That’s … unsettling,” I said. My brain was the only part of me left, and now they were telling me that I was going to leave it behind.

“I know,” Wilson said. “If it helps, I’ve been through the process. You’re still you after it happens. Promise.”

“When can we start?” I asked.

“Well, that’s up to you,” Wilson said. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve already started working on your body,” Wilson said. “If you wanted it—and no one would say anything against you wanting it—we can get you one in a few weeks. But for someone with an already existing consciousness that we need to port into the new brain, it’s not optimal. They’d rather build your body slowly and pre-prime the new brain to accept your consciousness. That way the transfer goes off without a hitch.”

“How long will that take?”

“Less time than making a body the natural way, but still a few months,” Wilson said. “Honestly the longer we take prepping the body for consciousness the better it will be.”

“And in the meantime I’m stuck here on the
Chandler
.”

“‘Stuck’ is a relative term,” Wilson said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if you want, I might have a job for you. And the
Chandler
.”

“What’s the job?”

“The job is to be you. Both you, Rafe Daquin, and you, the brain running the
Chandler
. We want the various species we talk with to be aware that you’re real and that your story is real.”

“I already gave you all the information I have on Equilibrium,” I said. “It’s pretty convincing.”

“
We
don’t need to be convinced,” Wilson said. “
We
know you’re telling the truth. But you understand that us knowing about Equilibrium—us knowing that they were the ones behind the attack on Earth Station and the ones who have been setting the Conclave and the CU against each other—isn’t enough. Thanks to what Equilibrium has already done, the CU has almost no credibility. With anyone. Not with independent species. Not with the Conclave, or any species within it. And certainly not with Earth.”

“And having me around changes that?”

“Well, no,” Wilson admitted. I would have smiled at this if I could. “It doesn’t change it. But it does get our foot in the door. It offers others at least the possibility that we might be telling the truth. You can get us a hearing, at least.”

“What about the Equilibrium base?” I asked. “You sent ships there?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you anything about that,” Wilson said.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Relax. You didn’t let me finish. I’m not supposed to tell you anything about that. Specifically, I’m not supposed to tell you that we found the base and we found a lot of fresh damage that corresponds to what you told me, but aside from that the base was deserted.”

“What do you mean deserted?” I said. “When did you get there?”

“We sent probes almost as soon as we got coordinates from you, and a couple of warships right after that.”

“Then you should have found
something
. They couldn’t have disappeared.”

“I didn’t say
disappeared,
” Wilson said. “I said deserted. There was a lot of evidence of someone having been there, and of the base having been used up until very recently. But whoever was there was gone. They left in a big damn hurry.”

“What about the other ships?” I asked. “The ones like me, I mean.”

“We found wreckage,” Wilson said. “Whether they were the ships like you or some other ships we can’t tell you yet.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere,” I said. “If you found wreckage, it was those ships.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe.”

“I don’t understand how they could have deserted the base that quickly. I knocked out their communications.”

“There’s the possibility that they had drones or ships in other systems set to investigate
if
there was no communication with the base,” Wilson said. “These assholes were building a fleet with hostage pilots. They probably figured one of them might try an attack or lead someone back to them sooner or later.”

“But
I
got away. If they planned for it, how did
that
happen?”

Wilson grinned. “Maybe you were better at it than they expected. They had to decide between evacuating their people or going after you.”

“But we still have all the evidence. You have Ocampo, for God’s sake! Have
him
talk.”

“He’s not going to be talking to anyone other than CDF intelligence for a while,” Wilson said. “More to the point, he doesn’t really have the capability to talk to anyone else at the moment.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that right now, you and he have a lot in common,” Wilson said.

It took me a second to figure out what
that
meant. Then I imagined Ocampo in his own little box.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” I said, eventually.

“I think you should probably feel disgusted by it, but that’s just me,” Wilson said. “I wasn’t in charge of that decision. Look, Rafe, you’re right. We have all the facts. We have names. We have data. And when and if people choose to look at all that
rationally,
then they’ll realize that the Colonial Union isn’t to blame for a lot of the crap it’s currently getting the blame for. But until that time, being able to have you around to appeal to their emotions and sense of morality doesn’t hurt. We could use you.”

“To evoke pity.”

“Yes,” Wilson said. “Among other things. Also, we kind of need a ship.”

I thought about this. “For how long?” I asked.

“Hopefully not too long,” Wilson said. “Things are moving fast now. We’re already a week behind. We’ve sent back-channel messages to the Conclave and are arranging meetings now. We’re trying the same with Earth. In both cases things are complicated by the fact that some of their people are involved too. And meanwhile Equilibrium is still out there. And you’ve probably accelerated their schedule. Everything’s going to get done very soon, I expect.”

“And if it all works out, then my body is waiting for me.”

“Even if it doesn’t work out your body will be waiting for you,” Wilson said. “Although in that case you may have less time to enjoy it than you’d want.”

“Let me think about it,” I said.

“Of course,” Wilson said. “If you can give me an answer in a couple of days that would be good.”

“I will.”

“Also, if you say yes, then we’ll be working together,” Wilson said. “You and me and Hart Schmidt. Who is worried about you and quietly furious that he’s not allowed to talk to you yet and that I can’t tell him anything. Let me suggest that you let him in to see you as soon as that’s cleared from above.”

“I will,” I said again.

“You also need to tell us whether you want us to tell your parents about you yet,” Wilson said, gently.

This was something I had been waffling about. I was alive. But I didn’t think my family would be comforted by how I was right now.

“They still think I was lost with the rest of the crew,” I asked.

“Yes,” Wilson said. “We found lifepods and are retrieving the bodies and notifying the families. There was one lifepod that was destroyed. As you know. We can always say to your parents that some bodies haven’t been found. Which happens to be true, as far as it goes.”

“I’ll tell you what to do when I give you my other answer,” I said.

“Fair enough.” Wilson stood up. “One last thing. The State Department asked me to ask you if you’d do a write-up of your experience. A personal history.”

“You’ve already debriefed me.”

“I did,” Wilson agreed. “I got all the facts. I think they’re wanting to know everything else, too. You’re not the only person they’ve done this to, Rafe. I know that for a fact. At the end of this we’re going to have to put other people back together too. You telling us what it’s been like for you might help with that.”

“I’m not a writer,” I said.

“You don’t need to be,” Wilson said. “We’ll get someone to clean it up so it scans. Just talk the whole thing through. We’ll figure it out from there.”

“Okay,” I said.

And that’s what I did.

And that’s what this is.

The life of the mind.

Well, my mind, anyway.

So far.

THIS HOLLOW UNION

To William Dufris and Tavia Gilbert, and any other audiobook narrator who might work in the Old Man’s War universe. Thanks for giving these characters a voice.

PART ONE

“I have to tell you that I am deeply concerned that our union is on the verge of collapse,” Ristin Lause said to me.

It’s been said, and I suspect largely by people who are not terribly fond of me, that I, Hafte Sorvalh, am the second most powerful person in the known universe. It’s certainly true that I am the confidant and closest advisor of General Tarsem Gau, the leader of the Conclave, the largest known political union, with over four hundred constituent member species, none of whom number less than one billion souls. It is also true that in my role as confidant and advisor to Tarsem, I have a great deal of choice in terms of which things to bring to his attention; also that Tarsem chooses to use me strategically to solve a number of problems he would prefer not to be seen involved with, and in those cases I have a wide amount of personal discretion in solving the problem, with the full resources of the Conclave at my disposal.

So yes, it would not be inaccurate to say that I am, indeed, the second most powerful person in the known universe.

Note well, however, that being the second most powerful person in the universe is very much like being the second most of anything, which is to say, not the first, and receiving none of the benefits of being the first. And as my position and status derive entirely from the grace and need of the actual most powerful person in the universe, my ability to exercise the prerogatives of my power are, shall we say, constrained. And now you know why it is said of me by the people who are not terribly fond of me.

However, this suits my personal inclinations. I don’t mind having the power that is given to me, but I have only rarely grasped for it myself. My position has come largely from being usefully competent to others, each more powerful than the next. I have always been the one who stands behind, the one who counts heads, the one who offers advice.

And, also, the one who has to sit in meetings with anxious politicians, listening to them wring whatever appendages they wring about The End of All Things. In this case, Ristin Lause, the chancellor of the Grand Assembly of the Conclave, an august political body that I was always aware of having a grammatical redundancy in its title, but nevertheless not to be ignored. Ristin Lause sat in my office, staring up at me, for I am tall, even for a Lalan. She held in her hand a cup of iet
,
a hot drink from her planet, which was a traditional morning pick-me-up. She had it in her hand because I offered it, as was customary, and because she was, at a very early time on the clock, my first meeting for the sur, the Conclave’s standard day.

“In truth, Ristin, are you ever
not
concerned that our union is on the verge of collapse?” I asked, and reached for my own cup, which was not filled with iet
,
which to me tasted like what might happen if you let a dead animal ferment in a jug of water in hot sunlight for an unfortunately long period of time.

Lause made a head movement which I knew corresponded to a frown. “You are mocking my concern, Councilor?” she asked.

“Not at all,” I said. “I am offering tribute to your conscientiousness as chancellor. No one knows the assembly better than you, and no one is more aware of the shifts in alliances and strategies. This is why we meet every five sur, and I am grateful we do. With that said, you do proclaim concern about the collapse of the Conclave on a regular basis.”

“You suspect hyperbole.”

“I seek clarity.”

“All right,” Lause said, and set down her iet
,
undrunk. “Then here is clarity for you. I see the collapse of the Conclave because General Gau has been pressing for votes in the assembly that he shouldn’t be. I see it because his enemies have been pushing votes to counter and undermine the general’s power, and they are losing by smaller margins with each outing. For the first time there is open dissatisfaction with him, and with the direction of the Conclave.”

“For the first time?” I said. “I seem to recall an attempted coup in the not ancient past, brought on by his decision not to punish the humans for the destruction of our fleet at the Roanoke Colony.”

“A small group of discontents, trying to take advantage of what they saw as a moment of weakness on the part of the general.”

“Which almost succeeded, if you recall. I remember the knife coming down toward his neck, and missiles immediately thereafter.”

Lause waved this away. “You’re missing my point,” she said. “That was a coup, an attempt to wrest power from the general by extralegal means. What I see now, with every vote, is the power and influence—the moral standing—of the general being whittled away. You know that Unli Hado, among others, wants to put the general to a confidence vote. If things progress, it won’t be long until he gets his wish.”

I drank from my cup. Unli Hado had recently challenged General Gau’s actions dealing with the human Colonial Union, and been knocked back when he asserted evidence of new human colonies that turned out not to exist—or more accurately, they had been so thoroughly removed from their planets by the Colonial Union that there was no hard evidence they had ever existed. Those colonies had been quietly removed at General Gau’s request; Hado had been fed the outdated information on their existence in order to be made to look like a fool.

And it had worked; he had looked like a fool when he attempted to call out the general. What I and the general had underestimated were the number of other assembly members who would willingly continue to follow a fool.