The Human Division

“I got that,” Schmidt said. “And what about you?”

  “Me? I’ve been here,” Wilson said, waving a hand to encompass the bar.

  “I thought you were supposed to be meeting with the U.S. military guys,” Schmidt said.

  “Already met with them here,” Wilson said. “Except for the one who’ll be skydiving with me. Apparently he was delayed and will meet up with me later.”

  “How did it go?” Schmidt said.

  “It was a bunch of soldiers drinking and telling war stories,” Wilson said. “Boring, but comfortable and easy to navigate. Then they left, I stayed and now I’m listening to everyone who’s come in here talk about the events of the day.”

  “It’s a little loud for that,” Schmidt said.

  “Ah, but you don’t have superhuman, genetically-engineered ears, now, do you,” Wilson said. “And a computer in your head that can filter down anything you don’t want to focus on.”

  Schmidt smiled. “All right, then,” he said. “What are you hearing right now?”

  “Aside from you complaining about having to fetch me beer,” Wilson said, “there’s a Dutch diplomat and a French diplomat behind me wondering whether the Europeans should let the Russians into their bid for the station, or whether the Russians will let bygones be bygones and join up with the Siberian States and China. Also behind me and to the left, an American diplomat has been hitting on an Indonesian diplomat for the last twenty minutes and appears to be entirely clueless that he’s not going to be getting anything from anyone tonight, because he’s a complete twit. And directly across from me, four soldiers from the Union of South African States have been drinking for an hour and wondering for the last ten minutes how to pick a fight with me and make it look like I started it.”

  “Wait, what?” Schmidt said.

  “It’s true,” Wilson said. “To be fair, I am green. I do stand out in a crowd. Apparently these fellows have heard that Colonial Defense Forces soldiers are supposed to be incredibly badass, but they’re looking at me and they don’t see it. No, sir, they don’t see it at all. So they want to pick a fight with me and see how tough I really am. Purely for the sake of inquiry, I’m sure.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Schmidt asked, looking over at the soldiers Wilson was speaking of.

  “I’m going to sit here and drink my beer and keep listening to conversations,” Wilson said. “I’m not worried, Hart.”

  “There are four of them,” Schmidt said. “And they don’t look like nice people.”

  “They’re harmless enough,” Wilson said. He swallowed a large portion of his IPA and set the glass down, then appeared to listen to something for a minute. “Oh, okay. They’ve just decided to do it. Here they come.”

  “Great,” Schmidt said, watching as the four men stood up from their table.

  “Relax, Hart,” Wilson said. “It’s not you they want to punch out.”

  “I can still be collateral damage,” Schmidt said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Wilson said.

  “My hero,” Schmidt said, sarcastically.

  “Hey,” one of the soldiers said, to Wilson. “Are you one of those Colonial Defense Forces soldiers?”

  “No, I just like the color green,” Wilson said. He finished the rest of his beer and looked regretfully at the empty glass.

  “It’s a fair question,” the soldier said.

  “You’re Kruger, right?” Wilson said, setting down the glass.

  “What?” said the soldier, momentarily confused.

  “Sure you are,” Wilson said. “I recognize the voice.” He pointed to another one. “That would make you Goosen, I’d guess. You’re probably Mothudi”—he pointed at another, and then at the final one—“and that would make you Pandit. Did I get everyone right?”

  “How did you know that?” Kruger asked.

  “I was listening in to your conversation,” Wilson said, standing up. “You know, the one where you were trying to figure out how to make it look like I started swinging at you first, so you could all try to kick the shit out of me.”

  “We never said that,” said Pandit.

  “Sure you did,” Wilson said. He turned and gave Schmidt his glass. “Would you get me another?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Schmidt said, taking the glass but not taking his eyes off the four soldiers.

  Wilson turned back to the soldiers. “You guys want anything? I’m buying.”

  “I said, we didn’t say that,” Pandit said.

  “You did, actually,” Wilson said.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Pandit asked, agitated.

  “It’s pretty clear I am, now, isn’t it?” Wilson said. “So: Drinks?… Anyone?… No?” He turned back to Schmidt. “Just me, then. But, you know, get something for yourself.”

  “I’ll take my time,” Schmidt said.

  “Eh,” Wilson said. “This won’t take long.”

  Pandit grabbed Wilson’s shoulder, and Wilson let himself be spun around. “I don’t appreciate being called a liar in front of my friends,” Pandit said. He took his hand off Wilson’s shoulder.

  “Then don’t lie in front of your friends,” Wilson said. “It’s pretty simple, actually.”

  “I think you owe Pandit here an apology,” Kruger said.

  “For what?” Wilson said. “For accurately representing what he said? I don’t think so.”

  “Mate, you’re going to find it in your best interest to apologize,” Goosen said.

  “It’s not going to happen,” Wilson said.

  “Then I think we’re going to have a problem here,” Goosen said.

  “You mean, now you’re going to try to beat the crap out of me?” Wilson said. “Shocked, I am. If you had just admitted this up front, we could be done by now.”

  “We’re not going to try anything,” said Mothudi.

  “Of course not,” Wilson said. He squeezed the bridge of his nose as if exasperated. “Gentlemen. I want you to notice that there are four of you and one of me. I also want you to notice that I am not the slightest bit concerned that a quartet of clearly experienced military muscleheads such as yourselves are planning to attempt to pummel me into dogmeat. Now, what does that mean? One, it could mean that I’m absolutely delusional. Two, it could mean that you really haven’t the slightest idea what you’re getting into. Which is it? You get to choose.”

  The four soldiers looked at one another and grinned. “We’re going to go with absolutely delusional,” Kruger said.

  “Fine,” Wilson said. He walked into the wide public corridor directly in front of the bar. The four soldiers watched him walk away, confused. Wilson turned to look at them. “Well, don’t just stand there like morons,” he said. “Get out here.”

  The four of them walked out to him, hesitant. Wilson waved them closer. “Come on, guys,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t want this. Gather round.”

  “What are we doing?” Goosen asked, uncertain.

  “You guys want a crack at me,” Wilson said. “Okay, so, here’s the deal. Spread yourselves out any way you like. Then one of you tries to hit me. If you can hit me without me blocking you, you get to hit me again. But if I block you, then it’s my turn. I have to hit all four of you without any of you blocking me. If any of you block me, it’s your turn again. Got it?”

  “Why are we doing it this way?” Mothudi asked.

  “Because this way it looks like we’re having harmless high jinks rather than the four of you attempting to start a war between Earth and the Colonial Union by randomly assaulting a CDF soldier,” Wilson said. “I think that’s wise, don’t you? So, go ahead now, position yourselves.”

  The four soldiers spread out in a semicircle in front of Wilson.

  “Anytime,” Wilson said.

  “Harry Wilson?” said a female voice.

  Wilson turned to look. Kruger rushed him, arms raised. Wilson blocked Kruger and put him on his back. Kruger exhaled in surprise.

  “Attacki
ng while I was distracted,” Wilson said. “Nice. Futile, but nice.” He hauled Kruger back up and pushed him back into his old position. Then he returned his attention to the woman who addressed him.

  “Danielle Lowen,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “All right, I give up,” Lowen said. She was standing with a man wearing a uniform. “What exactly are you doing?”

  “I’m embarrassing these four knuckledraggers,” Wilson said.

  “Do you need any help?” the man next to Lowen asked.

  “No, I’m good,” Wilson said, and Mothudi took a lunge at him. Mothudi was on the deck shortly thereafter. “You went out of turn,” Wilson said, mildly, to him. He got off Mothudi’s neck and let him crawl back into position. Then he looked back to Lowen. “Where are you two off to?” he asked.

  “Actually, we were looking for you,” Lowen said, and nodded to the man standing with her. “This is Captain David Hirsch, United States Air Force. Also, my cousin.”

  “You’re the one taking the high dive with me,” Wilson said.

  “That’s right,” Hirsch said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Wilson said.

  “Hey,” Kruger said. “Are we fighting here or what?”

  “Sorry,” Wilson said to him, and turned back to Hirsch and Lowen. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  “Take your time,” Hirsch said.

  “Will take no time at all,” Wilson said. He faced the four soldiers again. “Three rounds,” he said.

  “What?” said Kruger.

  “Three rounds,” Wilson repeated. “As in, I hit all of you three times each and we’re done. I’ve got people to see, and you probably need to practice breathing through your mouths or something. So, three rounds. Okay?”

  “Whatever,” Kruger said.

  “Good,” Wilson said, and smacked each of them across the face, hard, before they knew what hit them. They stood, holding their cheeks, stunned.

  “That’s one,” Wilson said. “Here comes round two.”

  “Wai—,” Kruger began, and the end of the word was lost in multiple smacking sounds.

  “Okay, that’s two,” Wilson said. “Ready for three?”

  “Fuck this,” Goosen said, and all four men rushed Wilson simultaneously.

  “Aaaaand that’s three,” Wilson said, to the four, who were all on the deck, clutching their necks and gasping. “Don’t worry, guys, your tracheas are just bruised. You’ll be fine in a day. Well, two days. Don’t rush it. So, we’re done here?… Guys?”

  Kruger vomited onto the deck.

  “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes,’” Wilson said. He reached down and patted the back of Kruger’s head. “Thanks for the workout, kids. It’s been fun. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.” He stood back up and walked over to Lowen and Hirsch.

  “That was impressive,” Hirsch said.

  “What’s really going to disturb you is that I am the Colonial Defense Forces version of totally out of shape,” Wilson said. “I’ve spent the last several years as a lab nerd.”

  “It’s true,” Lowen said. “He barely moved at all the last time I saw him.”

  “I did drink you under the table,” Wilson reminded her.

  “And ignored the pass I was making at you,” Lowen said.

  “I’m not that kind of boy,” Wilson said.

  “I’m not sure I want to be around for this conversation,” Hirsch said.

  “It’s just banter,” Wilson assured him.

  “Coward,” Lowen said, smiling.

  “Speaking of which, my friend Hart is back in the bar, holding a beer for me,” Wilson said. “Care to join us?” He jerked a thumb back at the four soldiers, still prone on the deck. “I tried to buy them beers, but they refused. Now look at them.”

  “I think we’ll join you,” Hirsch said. “If only out of self-defense.”

  “Wise,” Wilson said. “Very wise.”

  IV.

  “You wanted to see me,” Abumwe said to Coloma.

  “Yes,” Coloma said. “I’m sorry to take you away from your commitments.”

  “You didn’t,” Abumwe said. “I had scheduled an hour to eat and relax. This is it. And after forty minutes of a delegate from Kenya explaining to me how that country should be given Earth Station, on account of the space elevator having its base in Nairobi, anything you have to say to me will be a stream of clear rationality by comparison.”

  “I’ve been drafted,” Coloma said.

  “I withdraw my previous assertion,” Abumwe said. “What do you mean, drafted?”

  Coloma showed Abumwe her PDA, open to the order from the CDF. “The Colonial Defense Forces, with permission from the Department of State, has at least temporarily classified the Clarke as a CDF ship, and has at least temporarily drafted me into the service. Same rank, and I share a joint designation as captain with the Colonial Union’s civilian service, so none of my crew has to be drafted to follow my orders. I’ve also been ordered to keep this drafting, and the new designation for the Clarke, in strict secrecy.”

  “You’re telling me,” Abumwe observed.

  “No, I’m not,” Coloma said.

  “Understood,” Abumwe said.

  “Whatever this is involves you and your people,” Coloma said. “Orders or not, you need to know.”

  “Why do you think the CDF has done this?” Abumwe asked.

  “Because I think they expect something,” Coloma said. “We sacrificed the Clarke at Danavar—the former Clarke—when someone set a trap for the Utche. We don’t know who. This ship was used by the CDF to try to ferret out a spy in their own ranks, unsuccessfully. When the Earth delegation came onto the ship, one of their own murdered another of their own, and tried to frame us for it, for reasons that have never been made clear to us. And then there was the Urse Damay, which fired on us when we were meeting with the Conclave, and controlled by forces unknown.”

  “We’re not to blame for any of those,” Abumwe said. “Those weren’t about us in particular.”

  “No, of course not,” Coloma agreed. “We’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in each case some outside, unknown group has been manipulating events for their own purpose. The same group? Separate groups? If separate, working together or apart? And to what end? And now we’re here, meeting with representatives from Earth. We know there’s still a spy within the CDF. We know that on Earth, someone is also pulling strings.”

  “And if either is going to make a statement or an action, this would be the time and the place,” Abumwe concluded.

  Coloma nodded. “Even more so because the Colonial Defense Forces have no ships at Earth Station and no personnel, other than Lieutenant Wilson.”

  “And now you,” Abumwe said.

  “Right,” Coloma said. “My primary orders are to pay close attention to any incoming ships. They’ve given me a schedule of every ship, from the Colonial Union or elsewhere, that is expected at Earth Station in the next ninety-six hours. They’ve also given me access to Earth Station’s flight control systems, so I can track ship communications. If anything looks suspicious, I’m to alert Earth Station and ping a drone they’ve placed at skip distance, which will immediately skip back to Phoenix Station.”

  “There’s the possibility that the threat might come from Earth, not outside of it,” Abumwe said. “The beanstalk to Earth Station has been bombed before. There are riots happening on Earth right now because of this summit and the CDF. Any of that could be cover for an event.”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the CDF’s main concern. I think whoever it is that’s modeling this over there thinks an attack from a ship is the likely play,” Coloma said.

  “What makes you sure?” Abumwe asked.

  “Because the CDF gave me something else besides orders,” Coloma said.

  * * *

  “So what the hell is the Colonial Union really up to?” Lowen asked Wilson. They, Schmidt and Hirsch were on their third round together
at the bar.

  Wilson smiled and leaned back in his chair. “This is the place where I’m supposed to feign surprise and exclaim that the Colonial Union is acting only from the best and purest motives, right?”

  “Smart-ass,” Lowen said.

  Wilson raised his glass to her. “You know me so well,” he said.

  “It’s a serious question, though,” Lowen said.

  “I know,” Wilson said. “And my serious answer is that you know as much about it as I do.” He motioned to Schmidt. “As either of us does.”

  “We got our new directives about an hour before we set foot on Earth Station,” Schmidt said. “We were taken as much by surprise on this as you folks were.”

  “Why would you do it that way?” Hirsch asked. “I’m not a diplomat, so I might be missing out on some deep-level chess moves, but it seems like you guys are flying by the seat of your pants, here.”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to look like,” Lowen said. “Spring the idea of leasing the station here on the delegations from Earth to disrupt their plans to act in concert addressing legitimate grievances they have with the Colonial Union. Spring it on the actual diplomats from the Colonial Union so they don’t have any real authority to do anything other than listen to the Earth delegations grovel for a shot at the station lease. Change the conversation and change the direction of how Earth sees the Colonial Union. No, David, it’s supposed to look like confusion. But I’d bet you long odds that the Colonial Union’s been planning this little strategy for a long time. And for right now it’s working exactly how they wanted it to.” She drank from her beer.

  “Sorry,” Wilson said.

  “I don’t blame you,” Lowen said. “You’re just a tool like all the rest of us are. Although you seem to be having more fun than most at this point.”

  “He’s been drinking beer and beating up people,” Schmidt said. “What’s not to like?”

  “This from a man who hid at the bar while I was taking on four guys at once,” Wilson said.

  “You told me to go,” Schmidt said. “I was just following orders.”

  “And anyway, Captain Hirsch here and I will be doing some very important business tomorrow,” Wilson said.