The Ghost Brigades

“So this makes you the snake,” Jared said.

 

Boutin smiled at the backhanded reference. “Maybe so,” he said. “And maybe by giving the Obin what they want, I’ll force them out of their egoless paradise. They can deal with that. In the meantime, I’ll get what I want from this. I’ll get my war, and I’ll get the end of the Colonial Union.”

 

 

 

The “tree” the three of them looked at stood about ten meters high and was about a meter in diameter. The trunk was covered with ridges; in a rainfall these could funnel water into the inner part of the tree. Every three meters, larger ridges sprouted a circular array of vines and delicate branches, decreasing in circumference as they increased in altitude. Sagan, Seaborg and Harvey watched as the tree swayed in the breeze.

 

“It’s a pretty light breeze to make the tree sway this much,” Sagan said.

 

“The wind’s probably faster up there,” Harvey said.

 

“Not by that much,” Sagan said. “If at all. It’s only ten meters up.”

 

“Maybe it’s hollow,” Seaborg said. “Like the trees on Phoenix. When Dirac and I were doing our thing, we had to be careful which of the Phoenix trees we walked across. Some of the smaller ones wouldn’t have supported our weight.”

 

Sagan nodded. She approached the tree and put weight on one of the smaller ridges. It held for a reasonable amount of time before she could snap it off. She looked up at the tree again, thinking.

 

“Going for a climb, Lieutenant?” Harvey asked. Sagan didn’t answer; she gripped the ridges on the tree and hoisted herself up, taking care to distribute her weight as evenly as possible so as not to put too much strain on any one ridge. About two-thirds of the way up, with the trunk beginning to taper, she felt the tree begin to bend. Her weight was pulling down the trunk. Three-quarters of the way up, and the tree was significantly bent. Sagan listened for the sounds of the tree snapping or cracking, but heard nothing except the rustle of the tree ridges scraping against each other. These trees were immensely flexible; Sagan suspected that they saw a lot of wind as Arist’s global ocean generated immense hurricanes that lashed over the planet’s relatively tiny island continents.

 

“Harvey,” Sagan said, moving slightly back and forth to keep the tree balanced. “Tell me if the tree looks like it’s going to snap.”

 

“The base of the trunk looks fine,” Harvey said.

 

Sagan looked over to the nearest gun. “How far do you think it is to that gun?” she said.

 

Harvey figured out where she was going with that. “Not nearly far enough for you to do what you’re thinking of doing, Lieutenant.”

 

Sagan wasn’t so sure about that. “Harvey,” she said. “Go get Wigner.”

 

“What?” Harvey said.

 

“Bring Wigner here,” Sagan said. “I want to try something.” Harvey gawked in disbelief for a moment, and then stomped off to get Wigner. Sagan looked down at Seaborg. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

 

“My leg hurts,” Seaborg said. “And my head hurts. I keep feeling like I’m missing something.”

 

“It’s the integration,” Sagan said. “It’s hard to focus without it.”

 

“I’m focusing fine,” Seaborg said. “It’s just that I’m focusing on how much I’m missing.”

 

“You’ll make it,” Sagan said. Seaborg grunted.

 

A few minutes later Harvey appeared with Wigner’s body in a fireman’s carry. “Let me guess,” Harvey said. “You want me to deliver him to you.”

 

“Yes, please,” Sagan said.

 

“Sure, hell, why not?” Harvey said. “Nothing like climbing a tree while you’ve got a dead body over your shoulder.”

 

“You can do it,” Seaborg said.

 

“As long as people don’t distract me,” Harvey growled. He shifted Wigner and began to climb, adding his weight and Wigner’s to the tree. The tree creaked and dipped considerably, causing Harvey to inch along to keep his balance and to keep from losing Wigner. By the time he got to Sagan, the trunk was bent at nearly a ninety-degree angle.

 

“What now?” Harvey said.

 

“Can you put him between us?” Sagan said. Harvey grunted, carefully slid Wigner off his shoulder, and positioned his body so it was prone on the tree. He looked up at Sagan. “Just for the record, this is a pretty fucked-up way for him to go,” Harvey said.

 

John Scalzi's books