And then it occurred to her that if she didn’t stand up, that’s exactly what would happen.
“Go!” shouted the instructor, and the line of Partials hobbled back toward the other side of the room. They had come out of the vats the same day as Heron, and after two weeks of exercise they still looked stupid—their legs were skin and bones, their muscles atrophied from months of disuse in the vats. The instructors told them they were doing well, that walking at all, even poorly, only two weeks after being born was impressive, but Heron wasn’t impressed. If she looked as horrible as the rest of them did, she was glad she wasn’t walking.
One of the other Partials, a soldier named Grant, saw her still sitting and paused in his race. The others made it about fifteen more feet before the instructor blew his whistle. “Stop!” he said. “Everybody stop. Heron, Grant, why aren’t you walking?”
Grant said nothing, looking down at the floor. Heron considered a moment, weighing the words carefully before answering—after all, she’d only been talking for two weeks as well, and her vocabulary was limited, her pronunciation unpracticed. “I don’t want to.” Her voice was still soft and lispy, her mouth unaccustomed to forming the sounds.
The instructor stopped, his eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
Heron examined the sentence again, certain that she’d said it right. Maybe he hadn’t understood her voice? She tried again, enunciating clearly. “I don’t want to.”
“Soldier, that’s not a choice you get to make.”
“I’m not a soldier,” she said. “I’m espionage.” It was one of the harder words she’d learned, and she was pleased with how well she’d pronounced it.
“You are all soldiers,” said the instructor, walking slowly toward her. “No matter what your role is on the battlefield, you are all soldiers, and you answer to me. I am your superior officer.” He stopped in front of her. “What do we do to a superior, Heron?”
She couldn’t read him on the link; she couldn’t read any of the instructors, only the Partials. The instructors were something called humans, and all Heron knew about them was that they were better at nearly everything—they could walk, they could run, they were stronger, they knew more, and most powerful of all, they could hide their emotions from the link. You never knew what they were thinking, or what they were going to do. The Partials in the room watched with fear, wondering what would happen, and Heron felt their fear through the link like a hammer. She answered carefully.
“We obey our superiors.”
“That is exactly right,” said the instructor. “You obey—it’s the very first thing you learned on the very first day you fell out of your vats. Not ‘obey your superior if you want to,’ but ‘obey your superior no matter what.’ You obey immediately, you obey completely, and when I tell you to stand up, you damn well stand up. Heron, stand up.”
She thought about staying in her chair, but he was right—he was her superior, and she had to obey. She rose to her feet.
“Very good,” said the instructor. “Now, I want you to demonstrate something for me. Grant, come over here.”
Grant hobbled toward them. The instructor addressed the class in a loud voice. “The link that connects you can also be used by your leaders; it enforces obedience, should a soldier ever be so horrible as to disobey again. Espionage models have a small bit of authority over soldier models, so we’re going to use Heron for this. Grant, I want you to put your finger on your nose, and keep it there no matter what Heron says, okay?”
Grant nodded. The instructor turned to Heron. “Tell him to move his finger.”
Heron looked at Grant. “Move your finger.”
He moved his finger.
The instructor laughed. “Come on, Grant; I told you not to move it. Put it back and keep it there. Try really hard this time.”
Grant put his finger on his nose and stared at Heron, daring her to do her worst. She could feel his determination through the link, a giant wall ready to keep his finger motionless. She said it again. “Move your finger.”
The data went out through the link, creeping into his mind; his hand shook as his body tried to move his finger and hold it in place at the same time. His face turned red with the effort, and finally his hand came down.
The instructor smiled. “See how this works? You do what you’re told because you are designed to do it. You can’t help yourselves, so don’t bother trying. Now, Grant, tell Heron to touch her finger to her nose.”
Grant appeared confused but looked at Heron anyway. “Touch your finger to your nose.”
Heron waited for the power of the link, but nothing came; she felt the emotions behind his request, the desire with just a bit of confusion about what would happen, but she didn’t feel the force of command. She remembered what the instructor had said a moment earlier, about espionage models having some authority over soldiers. Apparently the soldier models had no authority over her, and she didn’t have to obey them. Instead of moving her hand, she spoke softly. “No.”
The instructor smiled again. “Very good. We obey our superiors, and a Theta model spy is superior to almost everyone in this room. Good job, Heron.” She smiled back, pleased that she had done so well and earned his praise. He spoke again. “The only person who outranks a Theta is a Delta, the generals of the Partial army. They are superior to all of you, and you will obey them explicitly. And who do you think the generals obey?”
The Partials didn’t answer. Heron racked her brain, trying to think of someone who would outrank a general, and then it hit her. She looked up. “A human.”
The instructor rested a hand on her shoulder. “That’s exactly right.” He turned to the class. “See how smart the Thetas are? You obey your generals, and your generals obey me. I am your superior in every way. Try it: Order me to do something.” There was a moment of hesitation, and then Grant told him to touch his nose. The instructor said no. Other Partials started telling him to do things—to stand on one leg, to close his eyes, to clap his hands—and every time he refused, smiling and laughing. Even Heron got into it, hoping her added authority might make a difference, but it didn’t. He ignored them completely. “Now stop,” he said, and the Partials fell silent. “Very good. I’m glad Heron brought this up today, because I want you to understand how this works—to see firsthand how the chain of command flows. The link binds you to your superiors, but humans are completely immune to it. We are your ultimate superiors. The smallest, weakest human being is still superior to every Partial in the world. Is that clear?”
Heron and the other Partials nodded, murmuring their agreement.
“Excellent,” said the instructor. “Now everyone get back in line; we’re going to run this again.” He blew a sharp note on his whistle and walked back to his position on the side of the gym. The Partials shuffled back into line. Heron was still tired and still didn’t want to line up again, but she did it anyway. She understood now.
He was her superior, and she would obey him.
ZUOQUAN CITY, SHANXI PROVINCE, CHINA
June 9, 2060
Heron spent nearly a week surveying the complex, mapping each building in turn, and what she found did not fill her with confidence. The five buildings of the complex were of relatively flimsy construction, which likely saved costs when they were built but which would be a significant liability when they became the site of a protracted urban battle. An infantry assault would be the only way to take the complex without harming the machinery inside; the Chinese would have trouble defending it, as there was little cover, but the Partials would have just as much trouble defending it from a counterattack. And there would definitely be a counterattack. The Partial army was physically superior, the perfect soldiers, but the Chinese defenders outnumbered them both in personnel and in weaponry. If the Partials managed to get in, they would be virtually surrounded by two enraged armies—armies that could swarm the complex within fifteen minutes when the order was given. And yet the NADI strategists had wanted it this way. Heron didn’t see the sense of it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. They had trained her to follow orders, so she would follow them . . . but they had also trained her to uncover secrets. Almost unbidden, her mind went to work on her superiors’ secrets. What did they want? How would this course of action allow them to get it? She knew she could figure it out with just a little more information.