Grunt Traitor (23 page)

“I know that. But I did.”

She sighed, the sound like wind through the speakers.

Doctor Cole locked eyes with Malrimple. “At least the screaming has stopped.”

Malrimple nodded. “Go ahead and leave us, Doctor Cole. I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t think Lieutenant Mason wants to shoot anyone today.”

Cole seemed to consider this for a moment, then holstered his gun and headed toward the door. I kept Malrimple between us, just in case he changed his mind. When he was out the door, I went over and slammed the pistol down on the internal keypad several times. I hoped it would be enough to bar the door.

When I turned, Malrimple was standing where I left him.

“Now, open that black box there,” I said pointing to what had to be Michelle’s.

“
No, Ben. Please don’t. I don’t want you to see me.
”

“But I’ve come all this way.” I nodded for Malrimple to do whatever it was that had to be done. “They said you tried to take yourself offline. That you tried to kill yourself.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “
I’m a distraction. As long as I’m alive I’ll be a distraction for you.
”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“
You love the memory of us.
”

“Maybe I do, but you’re as connected to that memory as I am. You can’t tell me that you don’t love me as well.”

“
I do love you. It’s just that now I’m... now...
”

“Now what?” I asked softly.

“
Now I’m a monster. How can anyone love a monster?
”

Malrimple had paused and was staring at me. If she was a monster, then he was her Frankenstein.

“What’s her condition?” I asked him.

“She’s ripped out most of her tubes. She’s a Mod One and still has her arms. We removed them on the other modifications, for just this reason.”

I gulped. “And why not remove hers?”

He shook his head. “It has to be her choice. She wanted to keep them.”

I took that in and thought about what it would mean to have someone take off my arms. It was nothing more than another bit of dehumanization, and Malrimple clearly didn’t think of Michelle as anything other than a machine, even if she did have to choose which body parts to throw away.

“Open the fucking box, Doctor Frankenstein,” I growled.

He pressed a few buttons on his keyboard and the side of the black box opened. Gas escaped, obscuring what lay within for a moment. I made out cables, dangling wires, and a figure.

“Michelle?”

“
Please... please go away.
”

I stopped cold as the gas dispersed enough for me to see the body within the box. It was... wrong. It wasn’t recognizable as human. It looked more like a log with attachments. Had Malrimple opened the wrong box?

“Michelle? Is that you?”

“
Ben,
” she gasped. “
Don’t look at me!
”

Too late.

The gas faded away and I saw her in all of her miserable reality. She hung at chest level. They’d removed her legs. Why shouldn’t they? She’d never walk again. Her body was ravaged with sores. Here and there the skin looked dead and rotting. Curious metal flanges spotted her body. Some had been capped; some ran out to transparent hoses, viscous red, yellow and blue mixtures traveling to and from her body. Still others dripped fluid, presumably ripped out by her thin, sticklike hands.

Her head was turned away from me, and her shoulders shook. Her head had been shaved, and the bald skin was gray and sickly.

Malrimple came up beside me. “We use her to assist new recruit HMIDs to assimilate. She has a way with the new ones that helps them better accept the drastic change in their reality.” He sounded genuinely saddened as he continued. “She’s in terrible shape. We’ve been trying desperately to keep her alive. She still has a use to us. She has value.”

For a moment it almost seemed a human response, to the terrible toll being an HMID had wrought against Michelle’s body, but I now realized he was lamenting the loss of an asset. To the scientist, she was no longer human. She was a thing to be studied, to be used. To be kept alive, regardless of the inhumanity of it.

I punched him hard in the gut, pushing my fist in as deep as I could while still holding the pistol. Then I brought my hand up and smashed it into his face, laying him out on the cold concrete floor.

I approached the black box and stepped inside. The floor was covered in viscous goo, but I ignored it. I holstered my pistol against the small of my back and took Michelle in my arms. She flinched at my touch and tried to push me away, but her arms had withered until they could barely support themselves. A slick cable descended from the top of the box to a flange at the base of her skull, I placed my hands lovingly around it and used it to turn her head.

Her eyes were the same, as was her nose and lips. If I could block out the rest, I could almost imagine we were still in the cave beneath Kilimanjaro, her face near mine as we made love on the cot behind the generators. But that was sentiment. This was now.

“Michelle,” I murmured. “How I’ve missed you.”

A tear fell from her left eye as she spoke. Her voice came both from the speakers and her mouth, creating an eerie chorus. “I saved your life in Africa, you know? It’s the best thing I ever did.”

I nodded and brushed her cheek. “They never knew we were coming. You didn’t just save me, you saved everyone.”

“I’m so tired of it now.” Her voice was tiny and breathless.

“Even heroes need the chance to rest.”

She smiled. “Is that what I am? A hero?”

“Of course you are.”

“I’m not a monster?”

I shook my head as an ache grew in my throat, making it difficult to speak. “Never. You did what none of us would do. You’re far braver than I ever was.”

She smiled. “You’re the Hero of the Mound.”

I stroked her head. I felt a thin layer of fuzz beneath my hands. “And you are the hero of us all.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, finally holding me.

I closed my eyes.

I’m not sure how long we held each other this way, but I became aware of a pounding behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Malrimple working on the keypad, trying to fix it so that he could open the door. We didn’t have much time.

“I’m really quite crazy,” Michelle said suddenly.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, you are. But then so are we all.”

“What now?” she asked.

I touched her chin. “I came to take you home.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh, thank you.”

I reached down her body and pulled out each hose until the only thing that connected her to the infernal machine was the cable attached to her neck. I folded her into my arms, so that her hips were over one arm and the other held the back of her neck. I leaned down and kissed her once. She opened her eyes and we had a final kiss, even as her fluids drained away.

She looked me in the eyes. She tried to speak but she couldn’t, but I heard her words in my mind.

“I love you too,” I said aloud. Then I pulled the main cable out of the back of her neck.

Her eyes snapped shut.

Her breathing hitched.

And sometime in the next few seconds she died.

I began to sob. I sat like this until they came and took me away. I barely felt it as they threw me to the floor. I barely felt their kicks. In my mind I lingered with Michelle, with the memory of us, locked in the tight, forever grip of my soul.

Each of you will fail, but you will fail in your own unique way, and therefore I will dislike each of you on an individual basis.

John Scalzi,
Old Man’s War

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

T
HE WALLS OF
my cell were covered with colorful words and phrases. I especially loved the limerick about the woman from Venus with the curious body shape. I found myself concentrating on the words, because not to do so would mean remembering what happened two days ago. Like the name
Renate
, scratched into the wall on its own near the corner. Was Renate someone’s wife? A long-lost girlfriend? A gal he’d met at one of the many bars in Barstow?
SNAFU
turned up a lot, which didn’t surprise me.
Situation Normal, All Fucked Up
could explain half of my existence on this planet.

That afternoon, a guard came and had me put my hands behind me and through a rectangular gap in the cell bars so that he could ziptie my wrists together. Once that was done, he grabbed the back of my collar and led me out of my cell, down a set of hallways, and into a small but brightly-lit conference room.

I’d wondered when they were going to lower the boom. I’d known they’d be madder than hell at what I’d done, and I hadn’t cared; to let things continue as they were would have been immoral and impossible. I’d done what had to be done, and I’d do it again tomorrow. Of course, now that they were going to lock me up and throw away the key, I wouldn’t get the chance.

Still, I was curious to see how the cast of characters would react. First I saw Ohirra and Olivares sitting in the cheap seats against the wall, along with a dozen other young officers I vaguely recognized. A conference table had been set up with a single empty metal folding chair facing it. Centered behind the table sat Mr. Pink, and to either side of him were a bruised and battered Malrimple, Doctor Cole, Lieutenant Colonel Hendrix, and Colonel Wade. Drake sat in a chair by the window, a submachine gun across his lap. He had an unpleasant smile on his face.

At the very end of the table on the left side was a stocky, red-haired stranger wearing a US military uniform, with a patch I’d never seen on his shoulder: the stars and bars of the US flag, inside the cameo of what could only be George Washington, giving America’s first president a red, white, and blue face.

The guard led me to the chair and placed me in front of it. I tried to get his attention to remove the zip-ties, but he ignored me. I sighed as I stood like a pet monkey in a kangaroo court. I let my flat gaze fall on Mr. Pink and waited for the theatrics to begin.

After five minutes, he made me sit, introduced himself and the men at the table. The man at the end was introduced as Major Vincent Dewhurst of the New United States of North America. I let my gaze linger on him, wondering why he was here.

“Mr. Mason, we have brought you before this panel to determine the punishment for the murder of HMID Aquinas. We have a complete audio and video record of the event. All the members of this panel have reviewed the record several times and concur with the chair’s assertion that you deliberately broke into the Fort Irwin HMID lab, assaulted Doctor Malrimple, and killed HMID Aquinas. There will be no trial. The determination has been made. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I said my words slowly. “It looks like you have everything you need.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

It was. But I wanted to throw eggs at them. And I didn’t want it on record that I murdered my girlfriend. Far from it; I did what had to be done. “After watching the audio and video evidence, do you really think it was murder? Seriously?”

“What would you call your role in the death of HMID Aquinas, then?”

“Assisted suicide.”

Malrimple snorted.

Cole shook his head.

Fuck them both.

Only the stranger, Dewhurst, showed any sort of positive emotion, smiling slyly.

Mr. Pink turned to Malrimple. “Doctor, do you have anything to say to this?”

Malrimple’s eyes widened, then he sighed dramatically. “I thought this was settled.”

Mr. Pink nodded. “It is. But Mr. Mason gave a fair response. What do you say to his assertion that it was assisted suicide?”

“Pure nonsense. We were bringing her back online so that she could assist in the integration of a new HMID.” Malrimple pointed at me. “It was through his efforts that she died.”

I grinned as I said, “Ask him why they had to bring her back online.”

Malrimple began slowly, as if every word was a great effort and he couldn’t believe he had to explain this to us. “HMID Aquinas removed several of her transfusion tubes, necessitating immediate critical emergency care. She lost sixty percent of her fluids and was unconscious for several hours. But through the heroic efforts of Doctor Cole and his technicians, we were able to bring her back into operation.” Malrimple clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “It doesn’t matter. It cannot be assisted suicide; HMID Aquinas was classified a machine, not an individual.”

Mr. Pink frowned and glanced at Lt. Ohirra. “Oh, dear. This could be a problem.”

As if on cue, Ohirra stood and came to my side. She stood at attention as she addressed the panel. “Gentlemen, the verdict of murder must be repealed. A human can’t murder a machine.”