Please write soon, Kasara
I did not write to Kasara from the hospital. With all of the excitement about Lector and the invasion of Little Man, I mostly forgot about her. Now that I saw the message from her, my memory came back with a rush of emotion. Funny. I didn’t think she meant much to me, but I felt lonely when I thought about her. Nostalgia? Was it my heart or my testicles?
The first of the official communiqués was my transfer. I had been assigned to serve under Bryce Klyber’s command on a ship called the Doctrinaire. Curiously, the Doctrinaire was not attached to a fleet. I was to report for duty in three days but had no idea where to go.
The idea of serving under Klyber again had great appeal. I had not gotten a chance to thank him for rescuing me in the House. He had slipped out the moment the vote was finished.
The second message was from Vince Lee.
Harris, You are a Liberator! Oh my God, how disgusting! News travels fast from closed sessions. And they thought your kind were dead, ha-ha!
Hope all is well, Second Lieutenant Vince Lee
Only an hour had passed since I had left the House. Did he hear about the entire session, or was my being a Liberator the only leak?
The third message came from Aleg Oberland, the teacher who ran the Tactical Simulations Center at the orphanage. It had been nearly two years since my last visit with him. Back then he had told me that my career would be set if I caught Klyber’s eye.
Oberland’s message was shortest of all—“Contact me.”
At the end of his message was a command button that said “Direct Reply.” Oberland appeared on the screen. “Wayson,” he said, “are you okay?”
“You heard about it, too?” I asked.
He stared into the screen. “I’m in DC,” Oberland said. “Does a busy Liberator like you have time for lunch?”
We met in a diner near Union Station. Oberland arrived before me. When I stepped through the door, I saw him waving from a booth.
“How are you feeling?” Oberland asked as he climbed out of his booth and shook my hand. He looked tired and worried. He looked into my eyes too long and too thoughtfully. He reminded me of someone visiting a friend with a fatal disease.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Took a bit of a beating in the House, but I guess I should have expected that.”
Oberland continued to stare at me as if he expected me to collapse on the spot. “Ever since Little Man, you’re all anybody ever wants to talk about back at #553. I’ve been following the Kamehameha on the mediaLink. Ezer Kri was big news. So was Hubble!”
A waitress rolled up to our booth. I ordered a sandwich and a salad. Oberland only ordered a salad.
“I just about wrote you off when I found out you were sent to Little Man. You’ve been out to the edge of the galaxy.”
“I just about wrote myself off on Little Man,” I admitted.
“I came in last night,” Oberland said. “What happened in there? I mean, I know you received a unanimous vote of commendation.”
The waitress returned with our food, and we started eating. Picking at his salad, Oberland said, “The reports say there were several Liberators on Little Man.”
“Four of us,” I said, around a mouthful of sandwich.
“There was me, Lector…”
“Lector?” Oberland asked.
“Booth Lector. He was transferred to the Kamehameha a few weeks before we shipped off to Little Man.”
“I know the name, Wayson,” Oberland said. “I didn’t know he was still alive.”
“He’s not,” I said. “He died on Little Man. So did two other Liberators.”
“Let me guess…Clearance Marshall and Tony Saul,” Oberland said. “I finished my career on New Prague. I got there three weeks after the massacre. They cleaned up most of the bodies before I arrived, but I still found fingers and teeth on the ground. The first team on the scene cleared out the big stuff, the bodies.
“The Senate launched a full investigation into why so many civilians were killed. I conducted the Army investigation. We found out what went wrong. It was a platoon of Liberators—Lector’s platoon. They destroyed an entire town, then they destroyed the next town and the town after that. By the time they finished, thirty thousand civilians had died. And it wasn’t like they blew them up with a big bomb, either. I don’t know why Congress outlawed Liberators, but I can tell you why I would. The people they killed on New Prague…they slaughtered them one at a time.” Oberland pushed the rest of his salad away on his plate and shook his head. “I try hard not to think about New Prague.”
“Must have been bad,” I said, not knowing what else to say. They didn’t teach us the details of that particular massacre in class. All we’d ever heard about was the number of victims. I wanted to ask how a single platoon managed to kill thirty thousand people in a single day; but looking at Oberland’s grim expression, I decided to change the subject.
I told Oberland about Bill Hawkins producing my helmet. He listened intently, especially when I brought up the video feed.
“Hawkins should be more careful. Klyber is a powerful enemy,” Oberland said. “I imagine he is also a powerful ally. I don’t suppose his appearance in the House was a lucky accident?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I just got transferred to his new ship.”
“That makes sense. Klyber’s involvement with Liberators was never much of a secret. We used to call them ‘Klyber’s brew.’ Of course, we didn’t say that in front of him…or them.”
“Admiral Klyber told me that creating Liberators was the only black mark on his career,” I said. “I get the feeling that he sees me as a way to wipe the slate clean.”
“Pulling six men off Little Man was impressive,” Oberland said as he started up his salad again. “Too bad you weren’t able to pull an officer with them.”
“You mean a natural-born,” I said.
“Yes. Saving those clones was quite a feat, but it will take a lot more than saving clones to give Liberators a good name.”
“I suppose,” I said.
“I haven’t heard anything about Klyber taking command of a new ship,” Oberland said.
“My transfer didn’t list a fleet, just a ship called the Doctrinaire.”
“Klyber does not get involved with a project unless it is important,” Oberland said. He looked at his wristwatch then stared out the window. I could tell he felt rushed. He drummed his fingers on table for a moment. “I want to ask you something. I’ve wanted to ask you this since the first time you walked into my simulation lab. Wayson, you always seemed like a good kid.”
“Are you asking if I am like Lector?” I interrupted.
Considering my question, Oberland checked his watch and looked out the window again. Crowds of people had filed into the station. I had not noticed it before, but Oberland had a small overnight bag beside his seat. “I would never have allowed you in my simulations lab if I’d thought you were like Lector. But you have the same programming and the same genes.”
“See these scars?” I pointed to my eyebrow and down my cheek. “These aren’t from Little Man. I never got so much as a nick on Little Man. These came from Hawaii.”
“Hawaii?” Oberland said, clearly strolling down some old memory lane. I was afraid he would ask if I had gone to Sad Sam’s Palace, but all he said was “I used to go there on leave.”
“I got in a fight with a Navy SEAL. He was short, almost a midget. He came up to here on me,” I said, running my pointer finger along my collarbone. “I’ve never seen anybody move so fast in a fight. And his fingers were like talons. He could have killed me right from the start, but he gave me a chance.” I laughed a short, hollow laugh and paused to relive the fight in my mind. “The little bastard made a mistake, and I got the upper hand. I damn near killed him.