by Shawn Jones
“Yes, sir. But looking at the map, I see a Threm tunnel there. We’re going to need to reinforce it.”
Cort looked as his map and saw the farm site Rai was talking about. “Yeah, I’ll work on that. Start disbanding the line and I’ll be down before they get to the farm tunnel. And give your people some rest as you cycle them into new positions. Synthetics can keep our bodies going, but we need mental rest too. I can see that you’ve been going forty-one hours straight.”
“I’ve been a little shorthanded, sir.”
Cort guiltily accepted Rai’s excuse, but ordered the Marine to rotate out with the first cycle. The lack of sleep among his fighters concerned Cort. If the battle lines collapsed before they had the exos herded into the ocean, they might have to evacuate the planet. Cort activated a reserve platoon, and ordered them to the surface with the next shuttle trip.
When Rai had disconnected, Cort spoke to George. “Tell me about Rai, George. What’s his story?”
“Yes, Father. His full name is Lajpat Rai. His is a distant nephew of Lala Lajpat Rai, an early leader in India’s fight for independence from twentieth century Great Britain. The lieutenant was a sergeant until the recent action on Gryll depleted our ranks. Previously he had distinguished himself among H’uumans for having passed their military gauntlet.”
“Damn.”
Before Jaif was named Supreme of the Species, his race was known as H’uumans. They were so named after their previous Supreme, H’uum, who died on Gryll in an attempt to rescue Cort. The now Jaifan gauntlet was the toughest Combat Endurance Test in the Ares Federation. The Jaifan version of the test made the human version look like elementary school calisthenics. Both H’uum and Jaif emphatically refused to allow Cort to attempt the feat, for fear of shaming Dalek.
“Why wasn’t he made an officer then?”
“He was, Father. But General Rage reduced him in rank during the battle for Nill.”
Mike Rage again. The man was a good General, but early in his career, he was decidedly racist against the insect species that had become such staunch allies of the Federation. Cort ultimately had to relieve him of command. It was a slap in Rage’s face, though it had the desired effect. By the time the Gryll task force had left this universe, he was not only friendly with the Jaifans, but he seemed to prefer their company to that of his own species.
Thinking about how well Rai had handled the entire exo situation, Cort promoted him to Captain, and had changes made to the man’s armor and uniforms to change their insignia to two silver bars the next day.
“What about Schwartz?”
“He is in command of the units sweeping buildings on the surface. He seems to be performing his tasks competently.”
George’s speech changed. “Talk to me. Why don’t you like him, son?”
“I believe he doesn’t like me, Father. There are those who do not.”
“I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“If you wish.”
Cort’s comm buzzed. Fuck. I hate this part. I never get a moment to breathe. He touched his ear and said, “Ares. Go.”
--
Cort took his armor off and walked to his quarters. He thought about paradox again. As he started walking, he touched his comm and asked, “Have we avoided changing the time stream, George?”
“Regarding the Threm, yes. But I haven’t been able to analyze data from Earth to make sure the timeline hasn’t been affected there.”
As soon as she saw him, Kim turned him around , and pushed him back out the door , and led him to the medical bay. Ceram was waiting there to scan his brain for changes.
“Leave me alone. I told you when this is over, you can run your tests.” Cort shrugged out of her hold and tried to move away.
Ceram clicked in disdain, as Kim looked back and forth between the two. Cort sensed her fear again. But it was different this time. “What is it?” he asked.
“Let them run their tests, Baby. What if the new changes are still happening?”
Cort sighed. “You get ten minutes, Ceram. That’s it.”
Kim said, “Thank you, Baby.”
Cort was just getting settled when a human woman entered the room. It was the Doctor who had treated him when Ceram was on Solitude.
“You’re from before the Cull. Who are you?”
The woman said, “My name is Salana Biyadiq. I am a medical doctor and neurosurgeon who has worked at some of the most prestigious facilities in the world. Frankly, when it comes to human patients, I am better than Doctor Ceram, and not just because I am easier to look at. I have a better understanding of pre-synthetic humanity than anyone alive does .
Cort liked her confidence. “I see. Well, Doc, you know who I am, and this is my wife, Kim.”
“My name is Doctor Biyadiq.”
Cort touched his inhibitor, deactivating it. The woman was stubborn and he sensed a chip on her shoulder. She was worried that she might not be able to prove herself to him.
He started to snap at her, but Kim shot him a silencing look. Turning back to Biyadiq, he said, “Okay Doc, run your tests.”
Biyadiq was angry. “My name…”
Ceram clicked, “Just run the tests, Doctor Biyadiq. We only have seven more minutes with the General.”
She gave Cort a series of scenarios to think about and asked many questions. She turned his inhibitor on and off several times during the assessment. When the tests were over, Ceram turned off the scanners and conferred with her for a moment. He faced Cort and Kim and shared their findings. Cort’s brain was becoming more active telepathically, but it was at the expense of his emotional control. The limbic system was beginning to be affected by changes.
“In English?”
Biyadiq showed them an image of the human brain. Indicating the temporal lobe and the cerebral cortex. She highlighted scar tissue, and switched between images of Addison’s brain scan, and Cort’s.
“This area is the basis of your emotions. The limbic system is the home of the amygdala, which…”
Cort stopped her. “You don’t have to impress me with big words. Tell me what is happening in my brain?”
“You are slowly losing control of your temper. Each successive stroke will accelerate it. You will lose use of your atlas interface as well.”
“You can’t let that happen until this war is over.”
“General, that is not something we have control over.”
Cort asked if they could adjust his inhibitor, but Ceram felt that to use it that way would effectively put Cort in an induced coma. The only way to slow the process down was to filter synthetics from Cort’s blood.
“Like dialysis?”
“I don’t know the term, General,” Ceram clicked.
Biyadiq opened her flexpad, and explained blood filtration to Ceram and Kim, saying it was an apt comparison. Cort asked how often it would have to happen, but Biyadiq said it wasn’t that simple. Opening another image, she showed them that if the synthetics were filtered, his telepathy would increase, and he would lose more control of his emotions, but if they let the synthetics remain, his strokes would become more severe, and lead to his death.
Cort told them to find the safest balance between anger and the strokes , that allowed him to continue to fight ing his war. Biyadiq agreed to keep working on it, but suggested the need for a medico near him at all times.
“No.”
“General,” Biyadiq began. “If you collapse again without someone nearby, you might not make it. You need someone with a neural kit near you all the time.”
“No.”
“Baby, listen to them. What good is saving Diane if you die now?”
Cort touched his inhibitor. He had to know what they were thinking. Biyadiq was easy. Hate. She hated him and everything he stood for. But she was a doctor and she was intrigued by his brain.
Kim was scared. She was afraid he would refuse their care.
Ceram was calm. Almost accepting of Cort’s ways. I love you for that, Ceram. WAIT!
>
He looked at Ceram. “I can read your emotions right now. You don’t expect me to accept a medic being around me all the time.”
Ceram’s antennae raised. “You could know that because you have been around me so long.” He held a scanner to Cort’s forehead and asked, “What about now. What do you sense from me?”
Cort felt confused for a moment as Ceram’s thoughts were jumbled. Then he got a clear image. “You wish you could have alcohol. You want to taste sweetwater with alcohol in it.”
“That would kill me, so no I don’t want to do that. But yes, that’s what I was thinking. Admiral Bazal cannot read our kind.”
“Bazal?” Biyadiq asked.
“Later, Doc,” Cort said. Then he had an idea. Two birds with one stone. “I’ll agree to a full time medical companion on one condition. It’s Biyadiq. All the time.”
Biyadiq was clearly horrified at the thought, Kim had a fleeting moment of jealousy, and Ceram was fighting the urge to bend his mandibles into a smile. Nailed it, Cort thought.
“No!” Biyadiq protested. “I won’t! There should be three who rotate.”
“Then no, there won’t be a medical person around me all the time.”
“Cort!” Kim protested.
He raised his hand, silencing everyone. “If she wants to judge me based on the horrors of war she saw in her lifetime, let her at least see how I wage it. And she’s going to accept the deal anyway. She’s just hoping she won’t have to. She hopes that one of you will talk me out of it, but she’s going to accept it because she wants to know how my brain works.”
Biyadiq spat her response. “I can see the scans without having to be near you!”
“No, you can’t, because I am a military dictator, and I am dictating that you cannot work on my case unless you agree to my terms.”
“I hate you.”
“Yes, you do. I can sense it. But your Hippocratic Oath, and your curiosity, they are stronger than your hate, Doc. So you’ll take the offer.”
Cort sensed admiration from Ceram. It was the kind of political manipulation his species respected. Kim had gotten past the jealousy, but Cort felt her guard go up. He took Kim’s hand and said, “Don’t worry. She’s a doctor before anything else.”
He stared at Biyadiq until she broke her gaze from his. He realized he could sense a small amount of anger and jealousy from Kim. Cort said, “I’ll be taking my family back to our quarters, now. If you are going to join us, I’d suggest you gather your neural kit. I’ll have George give you his quarters. They adjoin ours and that will make your job easier. Ceram, will you send her personal effects over?”
Biyadiq looked down. “I don’t have much.”
Kim touched her shoulder and said, “Tell us what you’d like, and I’ll have it printed.”
“Ceram, this doesn’t get you out of keeping my company.”
This time, Ceram’s mandibles did flex into a smile. “Of course not, General. I’ll probably be needed to keep the peace between the two of you.”
Cort looked at Biyadiq and said, “You only see me as a murderer. You think I’m pure evil. Open your mind, Doc. Otherwise you are going to hate the future.”
“That’s not true,” Biyadiq protested. “You are my savior, General. But I don’t like war. If what you say is true, and you are the embodiment of war, then I am your enemy.”
“As well as your savior. That’s something to think about.”
Biyadiq tapped her neck, indicating Cort’s inhibitor. “Not when you are around. My thoughts are my own until I have sorted them out.”
“Fair enough,” Cort said.
Kim said, “He chose you to be his personal doctor so you will see that war is just a tool to him. Granted, he is proficient at the use of that tool, but it’s just a tool.”
“That’s not true,” Cort said. “It’s not just a tool to me. That would be like saying a paintbrush was only a tool to Picasso or da Vinci. War is an extension of who I am. To you, Doctor, a scalpel is the same thing.”
Kim asked, “What’s a scalpel?”
“Before synthetics and lasers,” Biyadiq answered, “they were used for surgery. To cut into patients.” Turning to Cort she said, “How can you compare a scalpel, used for healing, to what you do, General?”
“In World War Two, Mengele used a scalpel to commit atrocities, Doc. But the U.S. and its allies used war to rescue the men and women he was butchering. It was the same when I assassinated people. Look, what I’m trying to say is that it’s not just the tool, how it’s used, or the proficiency of its use. It’s also why it’s used.”
“But you enjoy using war,” Biyadiq protested.
“Yes I do,” Cort said, looking at Kim. “And I’m a master at it. Sun Tzu and Napoleon were idiots compared to me. It’s fortunate for humanity that my timeline has happened the way it did. Otherwise, the Collaborative Government might have destroyed Earth to keep the peace. The Cuplans certainly would have wiped out half the galactic arm. And the Tapons, they would have tried to destroy us. Even the Gryll would still be breeding human babies for their sleep drug. If I hadn’t come along when I did, human existence would look very different.”
“Perhaps better, though,” Biyadiq said.
“Did you feel that way when my Marines pulled you from your breeding pen?”
Biyadiq’s face showed telltale signs of fear, shame, and misery as she remembered being raped daily. “I see your point, but I still don’t like war.”
“When you were in your own timeline, did you like operating on children with cancer?”
“Of course not!”
“Really? Be honest with yourself, if not with me. You truly loved fighting that battle. I can sense it. I can even tell you were a little disappointed when you found it was cured. You loved trying to preserve a child’s mind and memories, while eradicating an enemy that threatened to kill the kid.”
Biyadiq looked down, but was silent. Cort said, “I like waging war. As long as people like Admiral Bazal, Ceram, and my wife are here to guide me, my wars can be productive.”
“And what about when they aren’t?” Biyadiq asked.
Cort tilted his head to the side for a moment as they walked. When he reached George’s quarters and opened the door, he said, “Then gods help the universe. Here are your quarters.”
Biyadiq stepped into the room and turned around. Before she closed the door, she asked, “When will I meet Admiral Bazal?”
“You can’t for now. I’m limiting his exposure to us in this timeline. But once we are back in Ares Federation time, he will be among the first of my staff for you to meet. I think you’ll understand better then.”
“Thank you, General.”
Kim said, “We are eating in one hour, Doctor Biyadiq. Please let Doctor Ceram know he is invited as well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
--
Ceram arrived for dinner, and Doctor Biyadiq was with him. Cort sensed that she hadn’t wanted to arrive before the Jaifan doctor did. Rather than push her about it, he asked, “Did you get settled in, Doctor Biyadiq?”
Kim was happy to see that he paid attention to the dressing down she had given him when they were alone.
“I did. Thank you, General.” Biyadiq greeted Kim, who noticed that the small woman was in a new outfit. She had apparently learned how to use the printers to request clothing.
Kim was in a simple blue tunic, but Cort was still in his FALCON. Dalek was in living room with Bane and Shart, also wearing his own, simpler FALCON. His iteration of the suit had all of the armor capabilities of the military version, but none of the strength enhancements. It had camouflage ability as well, but that feature could be overridden by his parents’ flexpads. Kim had to remind him not disappear during dinner, because Doctor Biyadiq wasn’t used to his pranks yet.
Cort said, “Ceram, I’m still cooking, but there’s sweetwater on the sideboard. Pour me some single malt, too, if you don’t mind.”
Ceram turned to the cabinet and c
licked, “Of course, Cortland,” as Cort disappeared into their personal galley.
Biyadiq turned to Kim and asked, “He cooks for you?”
“Yes. It’s Salana, right? May I call you Salana?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No. Call me Kim, or Kimberly. Cort cooks every meal he is able to.”
“That’s unusual.”
Kim motioned to the couch and they sat as she said, “Why do you say that?”