“He says he wants to go home,” she translated.
“Tell him we’ll get him a new ship,” said Chip savagely. “From the Crotchets.”
Then Chip turned to Bronstein. “And you, Bronstein? Why do you look like you just found out you chose your honeymoon for that time of month?”
Bronstein tried to smile. “Because we bats take a long view. We’ve won. Humans can win. We’ve just proved it. And without the war there will be no more cyber-uplifted bats. Especially now that we have found out that the soft-cyber implants contain a fatal flaw. We cannot breed on our own, and without cybernetics . . . we are dumb. It doesn’t worry the rats much, but we bats have always dreamed of freedom.”
Ginny stopped talking to the Jampad. She turned to face Bronstein. “No. This is not the end of the road for that dream, Bronstein. Not while there is breath in my body.”
Bronstein shrugged. “To be sure, that’s nice of you, Ginny. But what can one human do? You understand, because of your own implant. But who else ever will?”
Chip stuck his hand up. “I do. And so will a lot of Vat soldiers who fought alongside you bats.” He grinned. “So let’s start a revolution. The Rat, Bat and Vat Liberation Movement. I’ll be the chef. Work out new recipes for Shareholder supreme.” He squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. She smiled at him.
Fluff’s eyes brightened. He pounded his chest. “Viva! Will there be gorilla warfare, señor? I always wanted to be a gorilla!”
Fal wandered up, trying to unscrew a bottle. “Doth beg the real vital question. Will there be strong drink?” He handed the bottle to Chip. “Do what humans do best,” he commanded imperiously.
While Chip obediently opened the bottle, Ginny smiled at Bronstein. “Michaela, I think the Crotchet wanted me—and killed my parents—because I am heir to thirty-four percent of the shares in the HAR colony. Things are going to change. It may not be easy, but we will overcome.”
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ginny?”
“Because I was scared you’d despise me. Think I was just a doll. A wind-up Cathy Earnshaw. I’m not. I’m me.”
Chip smiled and hugged her, one armed. “Cathy Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights? That wet-lettuce! Hah! You, Ginny, are worth fifty of her. You’re the most fantastically wonderful person in my whole world. And . . .”
“And . . . ?” she asked, shyly, wanting him to continue.
“And I think we should go and find a quiet corner. I want to take all your clothes off and make passionate love to you.” His hands were doing most distracting things.
She kissed him. “You’re an absolute genius.”
Chapter 49: Finale.
The MPs pushed into the deserted trenches with no small amount of trepidation. They’d had to leave their vehicle more than a mile away. This place was as frightening as hell. . . .
For starters, why was it deserted? Were they going to meet Magh’?
For a second, dealing with drunken Vat-troops on leave in the city was one thing. Here in the front lines, they had a private suspicion that Magh’ might be safer to meet than front-line soldiers. Still, they had their orders.
The sound of voices was a welcome one. It was a party of medics with stretchers.
“Halt!” said the Military Police captain.
“Fuck off, redcap. Get out of the way.”
“That’s an order, soldier!” snapped another MP.
“I’m a medic, asshole. With an injured soldier in my care. Go and look at your military law. Now get out of my way before I toss you out of the mine corridor.”
It was something of a shock to the MPs. “Look, we just need to ask you if you know where we can find a Major Conrad Fitzhugh,” said the captain, in a more reasonable tone of voice, walking next to the stretcher bearer.
One of the stretcher bearers halted. “Hear that, guys? The redcaps want to find Major Fitz.” There was a ripple of laughter.
The medic gestured with his head. “He’s back there. I guess about ten, fifteen klicks away. Where there is real fighting, you know. Not just poking a nightstick into a drunk’s guts.”