The Ghost Brigades

::So we’re just like them,:: Jared said.

 

Curie glanced back. ::No,:: she said. ::Not just like them. We’re designed to be better physically and mentally. We move faster. We think faster. We even talk faster than they do. The first time you talk to a realborn it will seem like they’re moving at half speed. See, watch.:: Curie stopped, appeared to look confused, and then tapped the shoulder of a soldier who was walking by.

 

“Excuse me,” she said, and she used her mouth to say it. “I was told there was a commissary on this level where I could get a really excellent hamburger, but I can’t seem to find it. Can you help me?” Curie was speaking in a voice that mirrored to a close degree the voice Jared heard in his head…but slower, slow enough that for the briefest of seconds Jared had a hard time understanding what she was saying.

 

“Sure,” the soldier said. “The place you’re thinking of is a couple hundred yards from here. Just keep going the direction you’re going and you’ll hit it. It’s the first commissary you come to.”

 

“Great, thanks,” Curie said, and started walking again. ::See what I mean?:: she said to Jared. ::It’s like they’re retarded or something.::

 

Jared nodded absently. His brain had unpacked the concept of “hamburger,” which lead to an unpacking of “food,” which caused him to realize something else entirely. ::I think I’m hungry,:: he said to Curie.

 

::Later,:: Curie said. ::You should eat with your training mates. It’s part of the bonding experience. You’ll be doing most things with your training mates.::

 

::Where are your training mates?:: Jared asked.

 

::What a funny question,:: Curie said. ::I haven’t seen them for years. You rarely see your training mates once you’re out of training. After that you’re assigned to wherever they need you, and then you integrate with your squad and platoon. Right now I’m integrated with one of the Special Forces platoons that decants soldiers as they’re born.::

 

Jared unpacked the concept of “integration” in his brain, but found he was having a problem understanding it. He tried working through it again but was interrupted by Curie, who kept talking. ::You’re going to be at a disadvantage to the rest of your training mates, I’m afraid,:: she said to him. ::They woke up integrated and are already used to each other. It might take them a couple of days to get used to you. You should have been decanted and integrated at the same time as they were.::

 

::Why wasn’t I?:: Jared asked.

 

::Here we are,:: Curie said, and stopped at a door.

 

::What’s in here?:: Jared asked.

 

::Shuttle pilot ready room,:: Curie said. ::Time to get you a ride. Come on.:: She opened the door for him, then followed him inside.

 

Inside the room were three pilots, playing poker. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Cloud,” Curie said.

 

“He’s the one who’s currently getting his ass kicked,” said one of the pilots, who tossed a chip into the pot. “Raise ten.”

 

“Badly kicked,” said one of the others, and threw in his own chip. “See your ten.”

 

“Your words of scorn would hurt so much more if we were actually playing for money,” said the third, who by process of elimination would be Lieutenant Cloud. He dropped in three chips. “I see your ten, and raise you twenty.”

 

“This is one of the drawbacks of having an all-expenses-paid tour of hell,” said the first pilot. “When everything’s paid for, they don’t have a reason to give you money. Call.”

 

“If I knew I was going to be working for socialists, I never would have signed up,” said the second. “Call.”

 

“Well, then, in addition to being dumb, you’d also be dead, wouldn’t you?” Cloud said. “Talk about being alienated from your labor. You’d be alienated from everything. Also, you’d be out a couple hundred dollars on this hand.” He spread out his cards. “Snake eyes and a trio of snowmen. Read ’em and weep.”

 

“Aw, crap,” said the first pilot.

 

“Thank God for Karl Marx,” intoned the second.

 

“That’s the first time in history that has been said at a poker table,” said Cloud. “You should be proud.”

 

“Oh, I am,” said the other pilot. “But please don’t tell my momma. It would break her Texan heart.”

 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Cloud said.

 

“Lieutenant Cloud,” Curie said. “Sometime this century would be good.”

 

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Cloud said. “I just had to finish up some ritual humiliation. I’m sure you understand.”

 

“Not really,” Curie said, and nodded to Jared. “Here is the recruit you need to take to Camp Carson. You should already have the orders and clearance.”

 

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