Resist the Red Battlenaut (22 page)

 

*****

 

 

Cairn's confirmation was enough. After getting the word from Scott, Perseid contacted Command and gave them the news. Then, he initiated preparations for the
Sun Tzu
to meet the fleet at Tack. If cleanup on Oberon finished on schedule, the ship would depart in three hours.

As for Scott, he fell through the cracks. Normally, his duties would focus on working on his Battlenaut, repairing and prepping it for action...but with his Battlenaut gone, and no replacement available, he had no immediate assignment.

It was a situation that wouldn't last; he wouldn't let it. Even as he grabbed fresh coffee in the mess, he was thinking about what to do next. Engineering always needed manpower, but Scott could do without Azimuth...so maybe he'd work on other pilots' Battlenauts in the hangar. He had to do
something
to keep his mind off worrying about Bern.

First, though, he headed for the medicenter to check on Donna. He didn't care that she was probably still asleep; he just wanted to see her, even if only for a moment. He just wanted to take another look at the one truly good thing that had happened that day. If Donna could come back from the brink of death, maybe Bern could come back from being stolen away.

Sipping his coffee, Scott walked down the corridor, lost in thought. Before he got to the medicenter door, his reverie was interrupted by footsteps rushing up behind him.

Turning, he saw Private First Class Sharmaigne Clancy zipping up alongside him--the comm booth attendant. "Corporal Scott!" She sounded out of breath, and her freckled face was flushed to match her bright red hair. "I'm glad I caught you!"

Scott stopped walking. "Why's that?"

"There's a message for you," said Clancy. "It came in shortly after you went down to Oberon."

Scott frowned. "What kind of message?"

Clancy shrugged. "It came under top secret seal for your eyes only. Authorization Alpha-Alpha-Zero-Black."

A chill ran up Scott's back. It was the highest possible authorization in the Commonwealth Marine Corps, which could mean only one thing. "Holy flux." He dropped his coffee on the floor, and it splashed all over his and Clancy's shoes and pants-legs.

Clancy stepped away from him. "Is something wrong?"

"You didn't tell me this until
now
?" snapped Scott.

"Things have been insane!" said Clancy. "There were
tons
of encrypted communications going back and forth between Major Perseid and Command!"

"Let's go!" Scott whipped around and charged back down the corridor. "I need to see that message
immediately
."

Clancy fell in step behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner! You were off comm on the planet's surface, and then the next time I tried to find you, you were in the brig!"

Scott didn't answer. His mind was hurtling ahead on a single track now. All he could think about was getting to the comm booth and viewing the message with the Alpha-Alpha-Zero-Black authorization...the message that could have come from only one person in the entire galaxy.

 

*****

 

"Hi, Solly." Sure enough, when Scott opened and decrypted the message, a holographic image of Bern stared back at him from across the round black table in the comm booth.

He hadn't seen her in a while, but she seemed much the same as he'd expected--a compact woman in her early hundreds who looked more like she was in her late sixties. As always, her bright white hair was tied back in a tight bun from her round face...but the expression there was different, more grim than grandmotherly. There was no twinkle in the pale green eyes behind the big glasses, no dimple of a smile in the chubby cheeks.

The rest of her showed similar signs of distraction. Her loose-fitting black uniform with the white piping was creased and rumpled, not impeccably pressed as usual. Her posture and body language were nothing like those of a grandma talking to her beloved grandson. This time, Bern was weighed down with worry, and her call was all business.

"Hi, Grandma," said Scott, though he knew he was talking to a recording. It felt good, just for a moment, to pretend that Bern was free and speaking to him live from her office at Command.

"I got your message," said Bern. "Sorry I haven't gotten back to you until now, but things have been crazy."

"No problem." Scott was completely alone in the booth, cut off from everyone, including PFC Clancy. He'd had to implement a total lockdown protocol in order to access the sealed message.

"Even now, I don't really have time for this." Bern looked away--at a chronometer, perhaps?--then back. "But I don't have a choice. You've really stepped in it, Solly."

Frowning, Scott leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. "Stepped in what?"

"I can't help being proud of you, though." A smile flickered across Bern's face. "Leave it to my grandson to uncover the biggest secret project in the history of the Commonwealth."

"Lethe." Scott said the word softly.

Bern's expression turned back to grim. "You're lucky all that happened to you was getting data-blocked by Military Intelligence. Poking around Project Lethe can lead to much, much worse."

Scott's frown deepened.

"Lucky for you, the Marine Commandant's your grandma," said Bern. "But that will only get you so far. After you've heard what I'm about to say, I'm afraid you're going to have to watch your own back more than ever."

Scott nodded.

"The road to Hell." Bern took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "They say it's paved with good intentions.

"Well, that's how Lethe started. With good intentions." Bern sighed and reached off-camera. Her hand came back with a steaming black mug of coffee. "Eighty years ago, someone had the bright idea to end post-traumatic stress disorder forever." Bern raised her mug for a sip of coffee, then lowered it again. "All those soldiers were coming back from the Pyrrhic Wars with memories full of horrors that they literally couldn't
live
with. There were epidemics of insanity and suicide. Somebody had to
do
something, didn't they?"

Scott nodded. He knew all about the Pyrrhic Wars and the alien hordes of the Whispering Ones; he'd studied the unspeakable atrocities they'd visited on the Commonwealth fringe worlds and the soldiers who had gotten in their way. Bern had earned her stripes in that war, though she'd never liked to talk about it much.

"What they did was this," continued Bern. "They figured out a way to inoculate against PTSD." She had another sip of coffee, then put the cup down off-camera. "The brain trust created a virus that alters the mind's response to violent stimuli. The virus re-routed perceptual input during memory formation, limiting the long-term mental trauma that typically results from exposure to acts of extreme violence.

"Test subjects could still form memories of violent acts," said Bern. "They did not see extreme violence in a positive light or feel encouraged to perpetuate it. But the virus diminished the lingering trauma that causes PTSD. It took the edge off.

"It was so effective that the Joint Chiefs approved it for general use among the armed forces...but they decided to keep it off the radar. They worried that some folks might object to having their memories tampered with. Some people might see it as a form of mind control. So everyone across all the services got the Lethe inoculations and thought they were nothing but flu shots. It worked out fine, and the incidence of PTSD faded away to almost zero." Bern paused and folded her hands in front of her so it looked like they were resting on the comm booth table. "But that wasn't enough, was it? Because
almost
zero isn't the same as
zero
.

"It turns out some people were immune to the virus. The shots weren't having any effect on them. So how could they get around this?" Bern looked down at her folded hands. "Well, someone figured out that giving it to
babies
would eliminate this problem, because their undeveloped immune systems wouldn't be able to resist the virus. It would take root and become a part of their internal microbiome before resistance could develop.

"
This
is how they ended up inoculating every citizen of the Commonwealth at birth." Bern looked up and shook her head. Her gaze seemed to connect with Scott's, though she was only present as a recorded image.

"They did a wonderful job of rationalizing it, too," said Bern. "After all, PTSD is universal. Even among a civilian population, it causes extensive human suffering. Wouldn't it be better to limit such suffering through universal inoculation?

"And look at all the conflicts we must fight to preserve our freedoms. Wouldn't it be a good thing to create a universally PTSD-resistant populace? Wouldn't it make us stronger if every man, woman, and child were a potential warrior unable to be mentally traumatized by violence? Of course it would.

"That was what they told themselves, anyway." Bern nodded. "Which is why, for the past 75 years, every single citizen of the Commonwealth has been secretly inoculated at birth. And only a few at the top..." She spread her arms and bowed her head. "...have ever known the truth. And we have carried the burden with us, never speaking of it even to our closest loved ones." Bern lowered her arms and raised her eyes to look at Scott. "Until now."

Scott shouldn't have been surprised. Bern was the Commandant of the Commonwealth Marines; he'd always assumed she was carrying many dark secrets. But knowing she'd been hiding something of such vast scope left him reeling. It didn't seem possible that his beloved grandma had been at the heart of a massive conspiracy affecting every citizen of the Commonwealth.

Yet the proof of it was evident right there in front of him. He could see the weight she'd been carrying in every crease and hollow of her face, in the dark dullness of her eyes, in the slump of her shoulders.

For as long as Scott could remember, Bern had been his moral compass. Whenever he'd landed in a tough situation, he'd always asked himself what she would do and acted accordingly. But now, he found himself wondering if her moral compass was as certain as he'd always imagined it to be.

All he knew for sure was that he had to keep listening, and hope he didn't hear anything else to taint his image of Bern any further.

"So why am I telling you all this?" she asked. "Because I have come to believe that Lethe is a terrible thing. By creating a populace without true PTSD responses to traumatic violence, we have made our citizens less likely to find war abhorrent. Just look at the endless conflicts that have sprouted up over the past decades--one after another after another, right up to the current Civil War." Bern thumped her fist on the table. "I believe war has become more commonplace because of Lethe.

"I also believe that Lethe has left us defenseless against the greatest threat of all. I believe it has fallen under the control of the Reds.

"This explains how the Reds have made themselves undetectable to Commonwealth forces," said Bern. "The same applies to the Rightfuls, who've only recently broken away from the Commonwealth and therefore have all been inoculated.

"Somehow, the Reds have figured out a way to use the Lethe virus against us...to use it to switch off our ability to process sensory input related to them. And if they can do that, God help us." Bern shook her head. "Because I think they can do much, much worse."

Something in her voice made the hairs stand up on the back of Scott's neck. He leaned farther forward, stretching his arms out on the table as if he expected to be able to touch her...as if that might somehow reassure him in spite of what she was saying.

But Bern did not reach back. She just kept talking, her expression growing more grave with each passing moment.

"If the Reds can control our perceptions, they can control our actions," said Bern. "There is nothing stopping them from setting us all at each other's throats, thinking we are killing the very Reds who control what we see and hear.

"Think of it." Bern steepled her fingers in front of her. "Commonwealth forces turning on each other, laying waste to the core worlds they are sworn to protect. Destroying their own homes, murdering their own
families
...believing, the whole time, that they are wiping out the enemy Reds." Narrowing her eyes, she leaned forward. "The whole Commonwealth, and the Rightfuls, too, would be gone in a fortnight, wiped out by our own creation.

"This is what you have stumbled upon," said Bern. "The ultimate power. The end of civilization as we know it. Everything we love and believe in swept away.

"And for all the resources I have at my disposal, damn little hope." Bern shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Command--myself included--has come around slowly--
too
slowly. The Civil War has blinded us to the true threat, and now it might be too late to deal with it.

"We took a chance and sent you out with the Diamondbacks because you're the only individual on record who can see the Reds. I think it could be something to do with the way you died and were brought back. An alteration of your brain chemistry or neural pathways. Maybe the resurrection procedure simply killed off all the Lethe in your system. I don't know." Bern shrugged. "But it's starting to look like your mission is too little, too late.

"I'm about to leave for a top-secret meeting with the Rightfuls, to propose we join forces against the Reds. But, honestly, if we can't
see
the Reds, I can't imagine we'll ever defeat them. And if they've ratcheted up their perceptual control as I suspect, they can make our closest allies appear to be our worst enemies."

Bern sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "Only one thing is clear to me. We are running out of time.

"Bellerophon Station, Lethe's center of operations, just went dark. This tells me the Reds are getting ready to make their final moves.

"I imagine this means it will all be over shortly," said Bern. "I'm just sorry that I have to be the one to break it to you." Leaning forward, she stretched her arms across the table; this time, her hands came to rest in the same space as Scott's, their insubstantial holographic forms merging with his own solid mass. "Though I'd have to say I'm much more sorry that I might not see you again by the time this mess is over."

Bern's eyes glistened with tears. "I love you, Solly," she said, and then she looked off-camera at what might have been a chronometer. "And I just hope we can see each other again in the next life, if this one keeps going the way I think it will." Smiling bravely, she blew him a kiss. "Got to go now, grandson. Good luck with your own battle against the Reds, wherever it takes you."

She blew him one more kiss, then, and got up from the chair. He watched her march out from behind the table and disappear as she left the camera's field of vision.

As the recording ended and the room dimmed, he just sat there for a while, staring into space, thinking about what she'd said. Letting the story of Lethe and all its terrible implications sink in. Wondering what his next step should be.

Then, he left the comm booth and went to tell Perseid what he'd just learned.