Old Man's War

by John Scalzi

  “Why didn’t you divorce?” Jane asked.

  “Because despite the affair, I loved her and she loved me,” I said. “We worked it out because we wanted to be together. And anyway, she had an affair a few years later, so I guess you could say we evened up. We actually got along better after that.”

  “Tell me about her,” Jane asked, later.

  “Kathy made pies like you wouldn’t believe,” I told her. “She had this recipe for strawberry rhubarb pie that would knock you on your ass. There was one year where Kathy entered her pie in a state fair contest, and the governor of Ohio was the judge. First prize was a new oven from Sears.”

  “Did she win?” Jane asked.

  “No, she got second, which was a hundred-dollar gift certificate to a bed and bath store. But about a week later she got a phone call from the governor’s office. His aide explained to Kathy that for political reasons, he gave the first place award to the wife of an important contributor’s best friend, but that ever since the governor had a slice of her pie, he couldn’t stop talking about how great it was, so would she please bake another pie for him so he would shut up about the damn pie for once?”

  “Tell me about her,” Jane asked.

  “The first time I knew I was in love with her was my junior year in high school,” I said. “Our school was doing a performance of Romeo and Juliet, and she was selected as Juliet. I was the play’s assistant director, which most of the time meant I was building sets or getting coffee for Mrs. Amos, the teacher who was directing. But when Kathy started having a little trouble with her lines, Mrs. Amos assigned me to go over them with her. So for two weeks after rehearsals, Kathy and I would go over to her house and work on her lines, although mostly we just talked about other things, like teenagers do. It was all very innocent at the time. Then the play went into dress rehearsal and I heard Kathy speaking all those lines to Jeff Greene, who was playing Romeo. And I got jealous. She was supposed to be speaking those words to me.”

  “What did you do?” Jane asked.

  “I moped around through the entire run of the play, which was four performances between Friday night and Sunday afternoon, and avoided Kathy as much as possible. Then at the cast party on Sunday night Judy Jones, who had played Juliet’s nurse, found me and told me that Kathy was sitting on the cafeteria loading dock, crying her eyes out. She thought I hated her because I’d been ignoring her for the last four days and she didn’t know why. Judy then added if I didn’t go out there and tell Kathy I was in love with her, she’d find a shovel and beat me to death with it.”

  “How did she know you were in love?” Jane asked.

  “When you’re a teenager and you’re in love, it’s obvious to everyone but you and the person you’re in love with,” I said. “Don’t ask me why. It just works that way. So I went out to the loading dock, and saw Kathy sitting there, alone, dangling her feet off the edge of the dock. It was a full moon and the light came down on her face, and I don’t think I’d ever seen her more beautiful than she was right then. And my heart was bursting because I knew, I really knew, that I was so in love with her that I could never tell her how much I wanted her.”

  “What did you do?” Jane asked.

  “I cheated,” I said. “Because, you know, I had just happened to memorize large chunks of Romeo and Juliet. So, as I walked toward her on the loading dock, I spoke most of Act II, Scene II to her. ‘But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise fair sun…’ and so on. I knew the words before; it’s just this time I actually meant them. And after I was done saying them, I went to her and I kissed her for the first time. She was fifteen and I was sixteen, and I knew I was going to marry her and spend my life with her.”

  “Tell me about how she died,” Jane asked, just before the skip to Consu space.

  “She was making waffles on a Sunday morning, and she had a stroke while she was looking for the vanilla,” I said. “I was in the living room at the time. I remember her asking herself where she had put the vanilla and then a second later I heard a crash and a thump. I ran into the kitchen and she was lying on the floor, shaking and bleeding from where her head had connected with the edge of the counter. I called emergency services as I held her. I tried to stop the bleeding from the cut, and I told her I loved her and kept on telling her that until the paramedics arrived and pulled her away from me, although they let me hold her hand on the ambulance ride to the hospital. I was holding her hand when she died in the ambulance. I saw the light go out in her eyes, but I kept telling her how much I loved her until they took her away from me at the hospital.”

  “Why did you do that?” Jane asked.

  “I needed to be sure that the last thing she heard was me telling her how much I loved her,” I said.

  “What is it like when you lose someone you love?” Jane asked.

  “You die, too,” I said. “And you wait around for your body to catch up.”

  “Is that what you’re doing now?” Jane said. “Waiting for your body to catch up, I mean.”

  “No, not anymore,” I said. “You eventually get to live again. You just live a different life, is all.”

  “So you’re on your third life now,” Jane said.

  “I guess I am,” I said.

  “How do you like this life?” Jane asked.

  “I like it,” I said. “I like the people in it.”

  Out the window, the stars rearranged themselves. We were in Consu space. We sat there quietly, fading in with the silence of the rest of the ship.

  SIXTEEN

  “You may refer to me as Ambassador, unworthy though I am of the title,” the Consu said. “I am a criminal, having disgraced myself in battle on Pahnshu, and therefore am made to speak to you in your tongue. For this shame I crave death and a term of just punishment before my rebirth. It is my hope that as a result of these proceedings I will be viewed as somewhat less unworthy, and will thus be released to death. It is why I soil myself by speaking to you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said.

  We stood in the center of a football field–size dome that the Consu had constructed not an hour before. Of course, we humans could not be allowed to touch Consu ground, or be anywhere a Consu might again tread; upon our arrival, automated machines created the dome in a region of Consu space long quarantined to serve as a receiving area for unwelcome visitors such as ourselves. After our negotiations were completed, the dome would be imploded and launched toward the nearest black hole, so that none of its atoms would ever contaminate this particular universe again. I thought that last part was overkill.

  “We understand you have questions you wish to ask concerning the Rraey,” the ambassador said, “and that you wish to invoke our rites to earn the honor of speaking these questions to us.”

  “We do,” I said. Fifteen meters behind me thirty-nine Special Forces soldiers stood at attention, all dressed for battle. Our information told us that the Consu would not consider this a meeting of equals, so there was little need for diplomatic niceties; also, inasmuch as any of our people could be selected to fight, they needed to be prepared for battle. I was dressed up a bit, although that was my choice; if I was going to pretend to be the leader of this little delegation, then by God I was at least going to look the part.

  At an equal distance behind the Consu were five other Consu, each holding two long and scary-looking knives. I didn’t have to ask what they were doing there.

  “My great people acknowledge that you have correctly requested our rites and that you have presented yourselves in accordance to our requirements,” said the ambassador. “Yet we would have still dismissed your request as unworthy, had you not also brought the one who so honorably dispatched our warriors to the cycle of rebirth. Is that one you?”

  “I am he,” I said.

  The Consu paused and seemed to consider me. “Strange that a great warrior would appear so,” the ambassador said.

  “I feel that way, too,�
�� I said. Our information told us that once the request had been accepted, the Consu would honor it no matter how we comported ourselves at the negotiations, so long as we fought in the accepted fashion. So I felt comfortable being a little flip. The thinking on the matter, in fact, suggested the Consu preferred us that way; it helped reinforce their feelings of superiority. Whatever worked.

  “Five criminals have been selected to compete with your soldiers,” the ambassador said. “As humans lack the physical attributes of Consu, we have provided knives for your soldiers to use, if they so choose. Our participants have them, and by providing them to one of your soldiers they will choose who they will fight.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Should your soldier survive, it may keep the knives as a token of its victory,” the ambassador said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “We would not wish to have them back. They would be unclean,” the ambassador said.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “We will answer whatever questions you have earned after the contests,” the ambassador said. “We will select opponents now.” The ambassador grunted a shriek that would have shaved pavement off a road, and the five Consu behind him stepped forward, past it and me, and toward our soldiers, knives drawn. Not one flinched. That’s discipline.

  The Consu didn’t spend much time selecting. They went in straight lines and handed the knives to whoever was directly in front of them. To them, one of us was as good as another. Knives were handed to Corporal Mendel, whom I had lunched with, Privates Joe Goodall and Jennifer Aquinas, Sergeant Fred Hawking and Lieutenant Jane Sagan. Wordlessly, each accepted their knives. The Consu retreated behind the ambassador, while the rest of our soldiers stepped back several meters from those who had been selected.

  “You will begin each contest,” the ambassador said, and then stepped back behind its fighters. Now there was nothing left but me and two lines of fighters fifteen meters from me on either side, patiently waiting to kill each other. I stepped to the side, still between the two rows, and pointed to the soldier and Consu closest to me.

  “Begin,” I said.

  The Consu unfolded its slashing arms, revealing the flattened, razor-sharp blades of modified carapace and freeing again the smaller, almost human secondary arms and hands. It pierced the dome with a screech and stepped forward. Corporal Mendel dropped one of his knives, took the other in his left hand, and started straight at the Consu. When they got within three meters of each other, everything became a blur. Ten seconds after it started, Corporal Mendel had a slash across the length of his rib cage that went down to the bone, and the Consu had a knife jammed deeply into the soft part where its head melded with its carapace. Mendel had gotten his wound as he snuggled into the Consu’s grasp, taking the cut for a clear shot at the Consu’s most obvious weak spot. The Consu twitched as Mendel tugged the blade around, slicing the creature’s nerve cord with a jerk, severing the secondary nerve bundle in the head from the primary brain in the thorax, as well as several major blood vessels. It collapsed. Mendel retrieved his knife and walked back to the rest of the Special Forces, keeping his right arm in to hold his side together.

  I signaled Goodall and his Consu. Goodall grinned and danced out, holding his knives low with both hands, blades behind him. His Consu bellowed and charged, head first, slashing arms extended. Goodall returned the charge and then at the last second slid like a base runner on a close play. The Consu slashed down as Goodall slid under it, shaving the skin and ear from the left side of Goodall’s head. Goodall lopped off one of the Consu’s chitinous legs with a fast upward thrust; it cracked like a lobster claw and skitted off perpendicular to the direction of Goodall’s movement. The Consu listed and toppled.

  Goodall rotated on his ass, flipped his knives up, did a backward somersault and landed on his feet in time to catch his knives before they came down. The left side of his head was one big gray clot, but Goodall was still smiling as he lunged at his Consu, which was desperately trying to right itself. It flailed at Goodall with its arms too slow as Goodall pirouetted and drove the first knife like a spike into its dorsal carapace with a backward thrust, then reached around and with another backward thrust did the same to the Consu’s thoracic carapace. Goodall spun 180 degrees so that he faced toward the Consu, gripped both blade handles and then violently cranked them in a rotating motion. The Consu jerked as the sliced contents of its body fell out in front and behind and then collapsed for a final time. Goodall grinned all the way back to his side, dancing a jig as he went. He’d clearly had fun.

  Private Aquinas didn’t dance, and she didn’t look as if she was having any fun. She and her Consu circled each other warily for a good twenty seconds before the Consu finally lunged, bringing its slashing arm up, as if to hook Aquinas through her gut. Aquinas fell back and lost her balance, fumbling over backward. The Consu jumped her, pinned her left arm by spearing it in the soft gap between the radius and the ulna with its left slashing arm, and brought its other slashing arm up to her neck. The Consu moved its hind legs, positioning itself to provide leverage for a decapitating slash, then moved its right slashing arm slightly to the left, to give itself some momentum.

  As the Consu slashed to remove her head, Aquinas grunted mightily and heaved her body in the direction of the cut; her left arm and hand shredded as soft tissues and sinews gave way to the force of her push, and then the Consu rolled as she added her momentum to its. Inside the grip of the Consu, Aquinas rotated and proceeded to stab hard through the Consu’s carapace with her right hand and blade. The Consu tried to push her away; Aquinas wrapped her legs around the creature’s midsection and hung in. The Consu got in a few stabs at Aquinas’ back before it died, but the slashing arms weren’t very effective close in to the Consu’s own body. Aquinas dragged herself off the Consu’s body and made it halfway toward the other soldiers before she collapsed and had to be carried away.

  I now understood why I had been exempted from fighting. It wasn’t just a matter of speed and strength, although clearly the Special Forces soldiers outpaced me in both. They employed strategies that came from a different understanding of what was an acceptable loss. A normal soldier would not sacrifice a limb like Aquinas just had; seven decades of the knowledge that limbs were irreplaceable, and that the loss of one could lead to death, worked against it. This wasn’t a problem with Special Forces soldiers, who never could not have a limb grown back, and who knew their body’s tolerance for damage was so much higher than a normal soldier could appreciate. It’s not as if Special Forces soldiers didn’t have fear. It just kicked in at a far later time.

  I signaled Sergeant Hawking and his Consu to begin. For once, a Consu did not open its slashing arms; this one merely walked forward to the center of the dome and awaited its opponent. Hawking, meanwhile, hunched low and moved forward carefully, a foot at a time, judging the right moment to strike: forward, stop, sidestep, stop, forward, stop and forward again. It was one of those cautious, well-considered tiny forward steps that the Consu lashed out like an exploding bug and impaled Hawking with both slashing arms, hefting him and hurling him into the air. On the downside of his arc, the Consu slashed viciously into him, severing his head and cutting him through the midsection. The torso and legs went in separate directions; the head dropped directly in front of the Consu. The Consu considered it for a moment, then spiked it at the tip of its slashing arm and flung it hard in the direction of the humans. It bounced wetly as it struck the ground and then twirled over their heads, spraying brains and SmartBlood as it went.

  During the previous four bouts, Jane had been standing impatiently at the line, flipping her knives in a sort of nervous twitch. Now she stepped forward, ready to begin, as did her opponent, the final Consu. I signaled for the two to start. The Consu took an aggressive step forward, flung its slashing arms wide, and screamed a battle cry that seemed loud enough to shatter the dome and suck us all into space, opening its mandibles extra-wide to do so. Thirty meters a
way, Jane blinked and then flung one of her knives full force into the open jaw, putting enough force into the throw that the blade went all the way through the back of the Consu’s head, the hilt jamming into the far side of the skull carapace. Its dome-shattering battle cry was suddenly and unexpectedly replaced by the sound of a big fat bug choking on blood and a skewer of metal. The thing reached in to dislodge the knife but died before it finished the motion, toppling forward and expiring with a final, wet swallow.

  I walked over to Jane. “I don’t think you were supposed to use the knives that way,” I said.

  She shrugged and flipped her remaining knife in her hands. “No one ever said I couldn’t,” she said.

  The Consu ambassador glided forward to me, sidestepping the fallen Consu. “You have won the right to four questions,” it said. “You may ask them now.”

  Four questions were more than we had expected. We had hoped for three, and planned for two; we had expected the Consu to be more of a challenge. Not that one dead soldier and several lopped-off body parts constituted a total victory by any means. Still, you take what you can get. Four questions would be just fine.

  “Did the Consu provide the Rraey with the technology to detect skip drives?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the ambassador said, without elaborating further. Which was fine; we didn’t expect the Consu to tell us any more than they had obligated themselves to. But the ambassador’s answer gave us information on a number of other questions. Since the Rraey received the technology from the Consu, it was highly unlikely that they knew how it worked on a fundamental level; we didn’t have to worry about them expanding their use of it or trading the technology to other races.

  “How many skip drive detection units do the Rraey have?” We had originally thought to ask how many of these the Consu provided the Rraey, but on the off chance they made more, we figured it’d be best to be general.