Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(88)

“On a spaceship, you’d have to work really hard to get poo into your drinking water,” said Monkey.

“Right. But peeing and pooing are right up there with breathing and drinking and eating, when it comes to necessities. As long as you aren’t facing a robot army—”

Monkey looked surprised. “Do you think they really would?”

“They tried robot soldiers against the Formics,” said Dabeet. “Drones are better. Human soldiers are best. It’s not just speed, strength, and accuracy, it’s also adaptability and knowing where to strike in the first place. And making independent decisions.”

“I thought the whole point of massed armies was to make them all submit to the single will of the commander.”

“You see any massed armies around here? You think we’re going to go toe to toe with whatever men they send against us? This will be asymmetric fighting, and our actions will be individual or small squad.”

Monkey looked thoughtful. “They don’t really teach us military stuff here, do they.”

“When I was trying to get into Fleet School, I read everything. Watched everything.”

“But you knew this wasn’t a military school anymore.”

“It’s the school where the IF sends their own children.”

“So we should all be listening to you because you read more books?”

“Nobody should listen to me. Everybody should prepare themselves to carry out their own plans. Cooperating where we can, but not falling apart if we find ourselves alone.”

Monkey looked at him a little sideways. “You’re preparing to go off and do crazy things on your own.”

“You see anybody inviting me to be part of their army?”

Monkey gave him the eyebrow equivalent of a shrug.

“I’m making plans to do what I can. I’m practicing the skills I think I’m going to need.”

“And what are those skills?”

“Moving in freefall,” said Dabeet. “Working in a spacesuit. Or an atmo suit. Figuring out how the electronics work. Improving my skills with hand tools, in and out of gravity.”

“That sounds very specific,” said Monkey. “You already know what you’re going to do.”

“It isn’t and I don’t. But if everybody else is going to the battlerooms—which is no worse than any of the idiotic ideas I’ve come up with, by the way—somebody needs to see what’s going on in the ship they came in.”

“So you, the one with the fewest space skills, have appointed yourself to reconnaissance.”

“I’m the only one who’ll recognize my mother if they actually have her on their ship.”

“Are you serious? Why in the world would they bring her here?”

“My first thought, too. But there are a few things to consider. If they’re planning to use me as the fall guy, then bringing her here gets a prime witness to my innocence off Earth and makes her look like part of the expedition.”

“Not a very good reason.”

“The second reason they might bring her is also the answer to your objection: Who says these clowns are reasonable?”

“What happened to ‘It’s stupid to assume your enemy is stupid’?”

“It’s right there with ‘It’s stupid to assume your enemy will only do reasonable things.’”

“You got any other reasons why they’d bring your mother?”

“So she can die along with the rest of us. So everyone I know and love will be extinguished.”

“You really do think this is all about you.”

“I can’t rule it out,” said Dabeet.

“I can. It’s not about you.”

“Monkey, I know this is far-fetched. But look, I don’t know who my father is except that the woman who raised me believes that he’s an officer in the IF. What if he’s a very high official? What if he’s kept me hidden because his enemies would use me against him if they knew about me? So, maybe they found out about me, and they want to kill me in some spectacular way so that whoever my father is, he’ll know that his son was killed, along with the woman who raised me, and the act of terrorism was blamed on me.”

“You’re a loon,” said Monkey. “I don’t mean that in a teasing way. I mean a jackboot strapped-in lubricated paranoid.”

“I don’t believe that, Monkey. My father really is with the IF somehow, because they let me in here. But beyond that, he’s probably just a guy. I know that. But I don’t know that I’m not being used to target him. What if he’s powerful, and this is a way to get to him?”

“Delusions of grandeur,” said Monkey. “They usually go along with paranoia. Why would everybody be spying on you? Because I’m so important. How do you know you’re so important? If I weren’t, why would they all be spying on me?”

“And yet important people often have children, and they get their education somewhere,” said Dabeet. “As I said, he’s probably just a guy.”

“So tell me, genius test boy,” said Monkey, “were you planning to do your freefall practice outside the ship?”

“That’s where they keep the zero-gee.”

“There’s the battleroom.”