The Last Colony

SIXTEEN

I didn't recognize him at first. Partly this was because of where I was seeing him. It was odd enough that I would be on the steps of the U.S. House of Representatives; to see him there was entirely unexpected. It was also partly because he looked rather older than I remembered him being.

And partly because he wasn't green.

"General Szilard," I said. "This is a surprise."

"It was intended to be," he said.

"You look different," I said.

"Yes, well," Szilard said. "Now that the Colonial Union has to deal with human governments here on Earth, one of the things we've discovered is that the politicians here don't take us very seriously if we look like we usually do."

"It's not easy being green," I said.

"Indeed not," Szilard said. "So I've made myself look older and pinker. It seems to be working."

"I assume you're not telling them that you're not old enough to rent a car," I said.

"I don't see the need to confuse them any more than they are," Szilard said. "Do you have a minute? There are things to say."

"I'm done with my testifying for today," I said. "I have time."

Szilard looked around me in an exaggerated fashion. "Where's your mob of reporters?"

"Oh, that," I said. "General Gau's testifying before the Senate Intelligence Committee today. I was just talking to a House agricultural subcommittee. There was a single public access camera there and that was it. It's been months since anyone bothered to follow me around, anyway. Aliens are more interesting."

"How the mighty have fallen," Szilard said.

"I don't mind," I said. "It was nice to be on magazine covers for a while, but it gets old. Do you want to walk?"

"By all means," Szilard said. We set off in the direction of the Mall. Occasionally someone would glance my way—off magazine covers or not, I was still all-too-recognizable—but residents of D.C. were proudly jaded regarding famous politicians, which I now suppose I was, for lack of a better term.

"If you don't mind me asking, General," I said, "why are you here?"

"I'm lobbying senators today," Szilard said. "The U.S. moratorium on CDF recruiting is a problem. The U.S. always accounted for the bulk of our recruits. This was why it was never a problem when other countries forbade their citizens from signing up; their contributions were trivial. But without the U.S. we're not meeting recruitment goals, especially now that so many other countries also have recruiting moratoriums."

"I know about the moratorium," I said. "I'm asking why you."

"I seem to be good at speaking the politicians' language," Szilard said. "Apparently there's an advantage around here to being mildly socially retarded, and that's the Special Forces for sure."

"Do you think you'll get the moratorium lifted?" I asked.

Szilard shrugged. "It's complicated," he said. "Everything's complicated because at the end of the day the Colonial Union has kept Earth in the dark for so long. You came along and told everyone here how much they've been missing out on. They're angry. The question is whether they're ultimately angry enough to side with the Conclave instead of other humans."

"When's the vote?" I said.

"Three weeks," Szilard said.

"Should be interesting," I said.

"I understand there's a curse about living in interesting times," Szilard said.

We walked silently for a few minutes.

"What I'm saying to you now comes from me alone," Szilard said. "So we're clear on that."

"All right," I said.

"First, I want to thank you," he said. "I never thought I'd ever get to visit Earth. If you hadn't completely fucked up the Colonial Union's way of doing things, I never would have. So thanks for that."

I found it very difficult to hide my amusement. "You're welcome,' I said.

"Second, I need to apologize to you."

"Ycu need to apologize to Jane, General," I said. "She's the one you altered."

"I altered her, but I used you both," Szilard said.

"Ycu said you did it to keep humanity alive," I said. "I'm not thrilled about being used by you or anyone else, but at least I have more sympathy for your goal."

"I wasn't entirely honest with you," Szilard said. "Yes, I worried aoout the Colonial Union causing the eradication of the human race. Trying to stop that was my primary goal. But I had another goal as well. A selfish goal."

"What is it?" I said.

"Special Forces are second-class citizens in the Colonial Union," Szilard said. "We always have been. We're needed but not trusted.

We do the difficult work of keeping the Colonial Union alive—it was we who destroyed the Conclave fleet, but our reward is only more work, more responsibility. I wanted a way to make the Colonial Unicn recognize my people, and how important we are to the Union. And the answer was you."

"Me," I said. "You said that we were chosen because of Jane and Zoe,not me."

"I lied," Szilard said. "You all hac your part to play. Jane and Zoe's were the most critical to keeping humanity alive, yes. But your pari was critical to my goal."

"I don't see how," I said.

"Because you're the one who would get indignant at being used," Szilard said. "Lieutenant Sagan no doubt got angry at how she and Roanoke were manipulated for the Colonial Union's ends. But her solution is to deal directly with the immediate problem. Tha:'s how she was trained. Direct-line thinking. Your wife is many things, Perry, but subtle is not one of them. You, on the other hand. You would stew. You would look for a long-term solution, to punish those who used you, and to make sure that humanity wouldn't face the same threat twice."

"Bringing the Conclave here to Earth," I said. "Cutting off the Colonial Union's supply of soldiers."

"We saw it as a possibility," Szilard said. "A small one. But a real one. And as a consequence the Colonial Union would need to fall back on its ready source of military power. Us."

"There are always the colonists," I said.

"The colonists haven't fought their own wars for nearly two centuries," Szilard said. "It would be a disaster. Sooner or later it comes down to the Special Forces."

"But you're here lobbying to end the recruiting moratorium," I said.

"The last time we had a conversation I told you the reason I let my Special Forces soldiers be used to destroy the Conclave fleet," Szilard said.

"So you could stay in control of the situation," I said.

Szilard spread his hands as if to say, And so.

"I'm having a hard time believing you planned for this," I said.

"I planned none of it," Szilard said. "I left open the possibility it might occur, and was ready to act on it if it did. I certainly didn't expect you to do what you ended up doing. Trade ships. That's weird thinking. I would have expected another armada."

"I'm happy to surprise you," I said.

"I'm sure you are," Szilard said. "And now let me return the favor to you. I know Lieutenant Sagan has yet to forgive me for altering her."

"She hasn't forgiven you," I agreed. "It took her a long time to get used to being human, and you took it away from her."

"Then tell her this," Szilard said. "She was a prototype. A version of Special Forces soldier designed entirely from the human genome. She is one hundred percent human, right down to the number of chromosomes. She's better than human, of course, but human all the same. She never stopped being human through any of this."

"She has a BrainPal in her head," I said.

"We're particularly proud of that," Szilard said. "The most recent generation of BrainPals were largely organic as it was. It took a substantial amount of tweaking to get one to generate out of the human genome. She was the first to have a wholly integrated, human BrainPal.''

"Why did you test it on her?" I asked.

"Because I knew she would need it, and I knew she valued her humanity," Szilard said. "I wanted to honor both, and the technology was ready to be tested. Tell her I am sorry I wasn't able to tell her this before now. I had my reasons for not wanting the technology to be common knowledge."

I looked at Szilard closely. "You're using the same technology now, aren't you," I said.

"I am," Sziard said. "For the first time I am entirely human. As human as anyone. And in time every member of Special Forces will be the same. It matters. It matters to who we are, and for what we can become to the Colonial Union and to humanity. Let Jane know, Perry. She is the first of us. The most human of us. Let her know."

Not long after, I took Jane to meet Kathy.

My Ohio hometown was as I had left it, almost two decades before, only slightly worse for wear. We drove up the long driveway of my old house to find my son Charlie, his family and every person I was even tangentially related to waiting for us. I had seen Charlie twice since my return, when he had visited Washington, D.C., to see me. We had been able to get over the shock of me appearing decades younger than he, and he had been able to get over the shock of Jane looking so much like his own mother. For everyone else, however, it was an awkward first.

It would have kept being so if Zoe hadn't dived in and broke the ice, starting with Charlie's son Adam, who Zoe demanded call her "Aunt Zoe," even though she was younger than he was. Slowly our clan began to warm to us, and to me. I was filled in on all the gossip of the last double decade. Jane was told stories of Kathy she had never known before. Zoe was fussed on by old relatives and moony teenage boys alike. Savitri told Charlie jokes about my days as ombudsman. Hickory and Dickory tolerated being curiosities.

As the sun sank in the sky, Jane and I gave Zoe a quick kiss and slipped away, walking east on my county road to Harris Creek Cemetery, and to the simple marker that held my wife's name.

"Katharine Rebecca Perry," Jane read, kneeling.

"That's right," I said.

"You're crying," Jane said, not looking back. "I can hear it in your voice."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just never thought I would be back here."

Jane looked back. "I didn't mean for this to hurt you," she said.

"It's all right," I said. "It's supposed to hurt. And I wanted you to meet her. I wanted to be here when you did."

"You still love her," Jane said, looking back down at the marker.

"I do," I said. "I hope you don't mind."

"I'm part of her," Jane said. "She's part of me. When you love her, you love me. I don't mind that you keep loving her. I hope you do. I hope you always do."

I reached out a hand to her; she took it. We stayed that way, silent at my wife's grave, for a very long time.

"Look at the stars," Jane said, finally.

"There's the Big Dipper," I said, pointing.

Jane nodded. "I see it."

I wrapped my arms around Jane. "I remember you said on Huckleberry that it was when you finally saw the constellations that you knew you were home."

"I remember saying that," Jane said.

"Is it still true?" I asked.

"It is," Jane said, and turned to face me. "I'm home. We're home."

I kissed my wife.

"The Milky Way," she said, looking up, after we broke our kiss.

"Yes," I said, looking up myself. "You can see it really well from here. That's one of the reasons I liked living in a little country town. In the cities the light drowns it out. But here, you can see it. Although I imagine with your eyes, you're getting quite a show."

"It's beautiful," Jane said.

"That reminds me," I said, and told her what General Szilard said about her being the first entirely human Special Forces soldier. "Interesting," she said.

"So you're completely human after all," I said. "I know," Jane said. "I figured it out already."

"Really" I said. "I'd like to know how."

"I'm pregnant," Jane said, and smiled.