Zoe's Tale (Old Man's War, #4)(4)

For the record: I've never fallen off the roof.

Well, once. When I was ten. But there were extenuating circumstances. That doesn't count.

Anyway, I didn't have to worry about either John or Jane telling me to get back into the house this time. They stopped doing that when I became a teenager. Besides, they were the reason I was up on the roof in the first place.

"There they are," I said, and pointed for Hickory's benefit. Mom and Dad and my green friend were standing in the middle of our sorghum field, a few hundred meters out. I raised my binoculars and they went from being hash marks to being actual people. Green man had his back to me, but he was saying something, because both Jane and John were looking at him intently. There was a rustle at Jane's feet, and then Babar popped up his head. Mom reached down to scratch him.

"I wonder what he's talking to them about," I said.

"They're too far away," Hickory said. I turned to it to make a comment along the lines of no kidding, genius. Then I saw the consciousness collar around its neck and was reminded that in addition to providing Hickory and Dickory with sentience - with their idea of who they were - their collars also gave them expanded senses, which were mostly devoted to keeping me out of trouble.

I was also reminded that their consciousness collars were why they were here in the first place. My father - my biological father - created them for the Obin. I was also reminded that they were why I was here, too. Still here, I mean. Alive.

But I didn't go down that road of thought.

"I thought those things were useful," I said, pointing to the collar.

Hickory lightly touched the collar. "The collars do many things," it said. "Enabling us to hear a conversation hundreds of meters away, and in the middle of a grain field, is not one of them."

"So you're useless," I said.

Hickory nodded its head. "As you say," it said, in its noncommittal way.

"It's no fun mocking you," I said.

"I'm sorry," Hickory said.

And the thing of it was, Hickory really was sorry. It's not easy being a funny, sarcastic thing when most of who you were depended on a machine you wore around your neck. Generating one's own prosthetic identity takes more concentration than you might expect. Managing a well-balanced sense of sarcasm above and beyond that is a little much to ask for.

I reached over and gave Hickory a hug. It was a funny thing. Hickory and Dickory were here for me; to know me, to learn from me, to protect me, and if need be to die for me. And here I was, feeling protective of them, and feeling a little sad for them, too. My father - my biological father - gave them consciousness, something the Obin had lacked and had been searching for, for the entire history of their species.

But he didn't make consciousness easy for them.

Hickory accepted my hug and tentatively touched my head; it can be shy when I'm suddenly demonstrative. I took care not to lay it on too thick with the Obin. If I get too emotional it can mess up their consciousness. They're sensitive to when I get overwrought. So I backed up and then looked toward my parents again with the binoculars. Now John was saying something, with one of his patented half-cocked smiles. His smile erased when our visitor started talking again.

"I wonder who he is," I said.

"He is General Samuel Rybicki," Hickory said.

This got another glance back from me. "How do you know that?" I said.

"It is our business to know about who visits you and your family," Hickory said, and touched its collar again. "We queried him the moment he landed. Information about him is in our database. He is a liaison between your Civil Defense Forces and your Department of Colonization. He coordinates the protection of your new colonies."

"Huckleberry isn't a new colony," I said. It wasn't; it had been colonized for fifty or sixty years by the time we arrived. More than enough time to flatten out all the scary bumps new colonies face, and for the human population to become too big for invaders to scrape off the planet. Hopefully. "What do you think he wants from my parents?" I asked.

"We don't know," Hickory said.

"He didn't say anything to you while he was waiting for John and Jane to show up?" I said.

"No," Hickory said. "He kept to himself."

"Well, sure," I said. "Probably because you scared the crap out of him."

"He left no feces," Hickory said.

I snorted. "I sometimes question your alleged lack of humor," I said. "I meant he was too intimidated by you to say anything."

"We assumed that was why you had us stay with him," Hickory said.

"Well, yeah," I said. "But if I knew he was a general, maybe I wouldn't have given him such a hard time." I pointed to my parents. "I don't want them getting any grief because I thought it would be fun to mess with this guy's head."

"I think someone of his rank would not come all this way to be deterred by you," Hickory said.

A list of snappy retorts popped in my head, begging to be used. I ignored them all. "You think he's here on some serious mission?" I asked.

"He is a general," Hickory said. "And he is here."

I looked back through the binoculars again. General Rybicki - as I now knew him - had turned just a bit, and I could see his face a little more clearly. He was talking to Jane, but then turned a bit to say something to Dad. I lingered on Mom for a minute. Her face was locked up tight; whatever was going on, she wasn't very happy about it.