“He’s helping us,” Sagan said. “There are worse things.” She carefully swung her leg over the trunk of the tree. Harvey did the same in the other direction. “Count of three,” Sagan said, and when she reached three they both jumped out of the tree, five meters to the ground.
Relieved of the weight of two humans, the tree snapped back toward perpendicular and then beyond it, flinging Wigner’s corpse off the trunk and arcing it toward the guns. It was not an entirely successful launch; Wigner slipped down the trunk just prior to launch, compromising the total energy available and positioning him off-center just before he became airborne. Wigner’s arc dropped him directly in front of the closest gun, which pulverized him instantly as soon as he fell into firing range. He dropped as a pile of meat and entrails.
“Christ,” Seaborg said.
Sagan turned to Seaborg. “Can you climb with that leg?” she asked.
“I can,” Seaborg said. “But I’m not in a rush to get all shot up like that.”
“You won’t,” Sagan said. “I’ll go.”
“You just saw what happened to Wigner, right?” Harvey asked.
“I saw,” Sagan said. “He was a corpse and he had no control over his flight. He also weighs more, and it was you and me in the tree. I’m lighter, I’m alive and the two of you mass more. I should be able to clear the gun.”
“If you’re wrong, you’ll be paté,” Harvey said.
“At least it’ll be quick,” Sagan said.
“Yes,” Harvey said. “But messy.”
“Look, you’ll have plenty of time to criticize me when I’m dead,” Sagan said. “For now, I’d just like all of us to get up this tree.”
A few minutes later Seaborg and Harvey were on either side of Sagan, who was crouched and balancing on the bent trunk.
“Any last words?” Harvey said.
“I’ve always thought you were a real pain in the ass, Harvey,” Sagan said.
Harvey smiled. “I love you too, Lieutenant.” He nodded to Seaborg. “Now,” he said. They dropped.
The tree whipped up; Sagan adjusted and fought against the acceleration to keep her position. When the tree reached the apex of its swing Sagan kicked off, adding her own force to the force of the tree launch. Sagan arced impossibly high, it seemed to her, easily clearing the guns, which tracked her but could not fire. The guns followed her until she was beyond the perimeter and rapidly arcing toward the meadow beyond. She had time to think, This is going to hurt before she balled up and plowed into the ground. Her unitard stiffened, absorbing some of the impact, but Sagan felt at least one rib crack from the hit. The stiffened unitard caused her to roll farther than she would have otherwise. She eventually came to a stop and, lying in the tall grass, tried to remember how to breathe. It took a few more minutes than she expected.
In the distance, Sagan heard Harvey and Seaborg calling for her. She also heard a low drone from the other direction, growing higher in pitch the longer she listened. Still lying in the tall grass, she shifted her position and tried to see over it.
A pair of Obin were coming, riding a small armed craft. They were coming right toward her.
“The first thing you have to understand is that the Colonial Union is evil,” Boutin said to Jared.
Jared’s headache had returned with a vengeance, and he longed to see Zo? again. “I don’t see it,” he said.
“Well, why would you,” Boutin said. “You’re a couple years old at most. And all your life has been made up of doing what someone else has told you to do. You’ve hardly made choices of your own, now, have you.”
“I’ve had this lecture already,” Jared said, recalling Cainen.
“From someone in Special Forces?” Boutin asked, genuinely surprised.
“From a Rraey prisoner,” Jared said. “Named Cainen. Says he met you once.”
Boutin furrowed his brow. “The name isn’t familiar,” he said. “But then I’ve met quite a few Rraey and Eneshans recently. They all tend to blur. But it makes sense a Rraey would tell you this. They find the whole Special Forces setup morally appalling.”
“Yes, I know,” Jared said. “He told me I was a slave.”
“You are a slave!” Boutin said, excitedly. “Or an indentured servant, at the very least, bound to a term of service over which you have no control. Yes, they make you feel good about it by suggesting you were born specially to save humanity, and by chaining you to your platoon mates through integration. But when it comes right down to it, those are just ways they use to control you. You’re a year old, maybe two. What do you know about the universe anyway? You know what they’ve told you—that it’s a hostile place and that we are always under attack. But what would you say if I told you that everything the Colonial Union told you was wrong?”