A Web Serial by M.C.A. Hogarth
| 44. Rehash. | 46. Bars of Soap. |
|---|
45. Live or Dead
The Board Room, again, where the aliens are dissected. Peaches is standing next to a lab technician and an ONI specialist. They are looking at a crab corpse.
Lab Tech. "This is their standard soldier carapace, Lieutenant. First revision."
Peaches. "First? Aren't we on third revision?"
Lab Tech nods. "This is the design that was typical when we first dug in."
Peaches. "But that makes no sense. I've been looking through the records, and the crabs have never sent old carapaces back at us. Have they?"
The other two exchange a look. The specialist says, "They've never done it here, no."
"But elsewhere?"
Specialist shakes her head. "I can't say." At Peaches's look: "I mean that literally, Lieutenant. I just don't know. If there's more information on it, I can't read it."
Peaches. "****. No clue what it might mean, then."
"None."
Peaches rubs her forehead. "All right. Then I need you working on something new."
Lab Tech. "Ma'am?"
Peaches. "Find some way for us to destroy the utility of these things once they're dead. I don't want the bugs making use of them."
Specialist. "We don't have any evidence that they can use these carapaces that way."
Peaches. "We don't have any evidence that they can't, either." Looks at Lab Tech. "I need fast, complete and safe. No compromise, I want all three."
Lab Tech. "I can experiment with compounds, but what you're talking about is really more of a weapons matter."
Peaches. "Not if what we want is to disintegrate whatever they're using for brains."
Lab Tech. "That's the problem, ma'am. How do we know what they're using for brains? For all I know they could be storing memories on the insides of their chitin with scent markers."
Peaches frowns. Then strides to the wall and toggles the intercom. "Lieutenant here. I'm in the Board Room. Get Private Guitart for me, please, and tell her to bring Samuel-Colt here. We have questions."
When she turns away from the intercom...
Specialist. "The alien's talking to you?"
Peaches. "The alien's talking to one of my people. She's talking to me."
Lab Tech. "Nice!"
Specialist. "****, I've known Samuel-Colt for a year and he's never said a word to me."
A little bit later, Spots arrives with Claws escorting and Samuel-Colt behind her. The alien watches the military courtesies between Spots, Claws and the lieutenant but does not interrupt.
Peaches. "Thank you for coming, Samuel-Colt."
Samuel-Colt. "You are welcome, Lieutenant-Savannah-Bonnet. There is an issue?"
Peaches nods toward the table with the dead bug. "We were looking for a way to make the bodies unusable to the enemy for their... memory-eating."
Samuel-Colt. "Lieutenant-Savannah-Bonnet, they are already useless if they are dead. Memories can only be consumed from the living."
Peaches. "Always?"
Samuel-Colt. "Always." A hesitation.
Spots, watching his bowing. "Is there something else you wanted to say, Samuel-Colt?"
Samuel-Colt. "Mother-soldier; if they plan to cannibalize their base soldier models for memories, they will probably design them to fall insensate in advance of a true killing blow. It's what we would do."
Claws. "Oh, that's just great. So we'll have to go through piles of maybe-dead crabs to make sure they're really dead?"
Peaches. "Well, that just brings us back to the beginning. We have to make sure they can't be used for reconnaissance, so we'll just have to kill them dead-dead." She glances at Samuel-Colt. "I'm right?"
Samuel-Colt. "Essentially, yes."
Spots. "Essentially."
Samuel-Colt spreads his middle, claw-bearing arms (causing the specialist and lab tech to edge away). "We are assuming they are working the way we understand, Mother-Marine. But they no less than we advance, and their biotechnology is their weapons technology. What if they have evolved some new method? We will not know until we see its effects."
Peaches, low. "****." Then clearer. "Well, that's war. We signed up for it. Is there anything else?"
Spots glances at Samuel-Colt. He shakes his head in a very human gesture, which looks strange on his stalk of a neck.
Peaches. "All right. Thank you all."
Once they've left:
Specialist. "****."
Lab Tech. "Get me some more specimens, Lieutenant, if they send new ones. I'll see what I can do."
Peaches. "Right. Specimens of new killer bugs. You want them dead or alive?"
Lab Tech. "...is that a joke?"
Peaches, fell smile. "We're the ****ing Marines. If you need a live crab, we'll get you one."
Silence.
Lab Tech. "Dead will do. For a start."
Peaches. "You got it."
In the hall, Spots bows to Samuel-Colt. "Thank you."
Samuel-Colt. "You make my duty easy, Mother-soldier. Thank you. Do you go back to your rest now?"
Claws. "Think by now we should be gettin' to the Armory, actually."
Samuel-Colt. "May I accompany you? It has been some time since I checked the statistics on your gear. The shield modifications were distracting."
Spots. "We'd be delighted."
| 44. Rehash. | 46. Bars of Soap. |
|---|
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