Read Online The End of All Things: The Third Instalment by John Scalzi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Scalzi
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but the colonies are fucking baby deer in a forest full of predators.”
“Then how does any of that change?”
“Got me, boss, I just work here. What I do know is that it is going to change. It has to change because we don’t have the Earth anymore. The mechanics of the Colonial Union, what it was founded on, just don’t work anymore. It changes or we all die. And I’m doing my part to keep it together until then. The alternative is grim.”
“I suppose it might be,” I said.
“What about you? Would you do it again, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t want to die old, you’re right.” I reached out and touched Lambert’s cold arm. “But there are worse ways to go.”
“He went mid-pontification,” Powell said. “I’m pretty sure that’s how he would have wanted to go.”
I laughed at that. “Fair enough,” I said. “I think my point is that I get it now. I get that there are worse things than to have lived a life and have most of it behind you. I wouldn’t be afraid of that anymore, I think.”
“Maybe. It’s easy to say that now that you look twenty years old and will live for another sixty even if you left the CDF today.”
“Again, a fair point.”
“This is why I told Lambert to stop going on about it, you know,” Powell said. “All the thinking about the steps beyond what we were directly doing. It never makes you happy. It never solves anything for you, right now.”
I smiled. “And yet you were the one to bring it up, here, now.”
“Yes, well.” Powell grimaced. “Think of it as a tribute. To our departed friend. I’ll never do it again.”
I motioned to Salcido. “And him?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” Powell said. “Maybe listen to that stupid pizza moon song again. Or think about what day it is in the mess. Which is complete bullshit, by the way. You can get pizza and tacos and hamburgers any day you want. It’s just which entrée they push out in front.”
“I know,” I said. “But that wasn’t the point of the conversation, was it.”
“No,” Powell said. “No, it wasn’t.”
PART FIVE
Why are we even here, Powell said to me, through her BrainPal. We and the rest of our platoon on the Uppsala were policing a protest on Erie, in the city of Galway. The protest was entirely peaceful. All the protesters were doing, all anyone was doings, as far as I could see, was lying down. Everywhere. There were at least 100,000 of them. She was thirty yards away from me, part of a defensive line in front of the Colonial Union offices.
We’re protecting Colonial Union property, I sent back.
What are they going to do, lay on it?
I seem to remember you recently complaining about people thinking too much about our missions, I said.
This seems like something the local police can handle.
Indeed, I said, and pointed at a woman lying about two meters from me, in a police uniform. There’s the chief of police. You can talk to her about it.
Even from thirty yards away I could hear Powell’s snort of derision.
The problem with Erie was not that the population had tried to declare its independence, or tried to burn down the Colonial Union local headquarters, or had invited less than entirely altruistic alien species to attack Colonial ships and soldiers. The problem was that Erie had gone on strike.
Not entirely on strike; the planet was still feeding itself and clothing itself and taking care of its own internal needs. But it had decided that, for now, it was no longer in the export business. This presented a problem for the Colonial Union because the Colonial Union bought a substantial amount from Erie, and Erie, as one of the earliest colonies, had one of the most developed export economies in the whole Colonial Union.
The Colonial Union trade representative for Erie had asked what the problem was. No problem, Erie (or more accurately its governor for trade) said. We’ve decided to get out of the export business.
The Colonial Union trade
“Then how does any of that change?”
“Got me, boss, I just work here. What I do know is that it is going to change. It has to change because we don’t have the Earth anymore. The mechanics of the Colonial Union, what it was founded on, just don’t work anymore. It changes or we all die. And I’m doing my part to keep it together until then. The alternative is grim.”
“I suppose it might be,” I said.
“What about you? Would you do it again, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t want to die old, you’re right.” I reached out and touched Lambert’s cold arm. “But there are worse ways to go.”
“He went mid-pontification,” Powell said. “I’m pretty sure that’s how he would have wanted to go.”
I laughed at that. “Fair enough,” I said. “I think my point is that I get it now. I get that there are worse things than to have lived a life and have most of it behind you. I wouldn’t be afraid of that anymore, I think.”
“Maybe. It’s easy to say that now that you look twenty years old and will live for another sixty even if you left the CDF today.”
“Again, a fair point.”
“This is why I told Lambert to stop going on about it, you know,” Powell said. “All the thinking about the steps beyond what we were directly doing. It never makes you happy. It never solves anything for you, right now.”
I smiled. “And yet you were the one to bring it up, here, now.”
“Yes, well.” Powell grimaced. “Think of it as a tribute. To our departed friend. I’ll never do it again.”
I motioned to Salcido. “And him?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” Powell said. “Maybe listen to that stupid pizza moon song again. Or think about what day it is in the mess. Which is complete bullshit, by the way. You can get pizza and tacos and hamburgers any day you want. It’s just which entrée they push out in front.”
“I know,” I said. “But that wasn’t the point of the conversation, was it.”
“No,” Powell said. “No, it wasn’t.”
PART FIVE
Why are we even here, Powell said to me, through her BrainPal. We and the rest of our platoon on the Uppsala were policing a protest on Erie, in the city of Galway. The protest was entirely peaceful. All the protesters were doing, all anyone was doings, as far as I could see, was lying down. Everywhere. There were at least 100,000 of them. She was thirty yards away from me, part of a defensive line in front of the Colonial Union offices.
We’re protecting Colonial Union property, I sent back.
What are they going to do, lay on it?
I seem to remember you recently complaining about people thinking too much about our missions, I said.
This seems like something the local police can handle.
Indeed, I said, and pointed at a woman lying about two meters from me, in a police uniform. There’s the chief of police. You can talk to her about it.
Even from thirty yards away I could hear Powell’s snort of derision.
The problem with Erie was not that the population had tried to declare its independence, or tried to burn down the Colonial Union local headquarters, or had invited less than entirely altruistic alien species to attack Colonial ships and soldiers. The problem was that Erie had gone on strike.
Not entirely on strike; the planet was still feeding itself and clothing itself and taking care of its own internal needs. But it had decided that, for now, it was no longer in the export business. This presented a problem for the Colonial Union because the Colonial Union bought a substantial amount from Erie, and Erie, as one of the earliest colonies, had one of the most developed export economies in the whole Colonial Union.
The Colonial Union trade representative for Erie had asked what the problem was. No problem, Erie (or more accurately its governor for trade) said. We’ve decided to get out of the export business.
The Colonial Union trade
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