THE FOREVER WAR by Joe Haldeman

Names, dates, figures rattled down through the maze of new knowledge. “Tet-17, Sed-2l, Aleph-14. The Lazlo

‘The Lazlo Emergency Commission Report.’ June, 2106.”

“Right. And by extension, your own experience on Aleph-l. Robots don’t make good soldiers.”

“They would,” I said. “Up to the twenty-first century.

BehaViOral conditioning would have been the answer to a general’s dream. Make up an army with all the best features of the SS, the Praetorian Guard, the Golden Horde. Mosby’s Raiders, the Green Berets.”

He laughed over his glass. “Then put that army up against a squad of men in modem fighting suits. It’d be over in a couple of minutes.”

“So long as each man in the squad kept his head about him. And just fought like hell to stay alive.” The generation of soldiers that had precipitated the Lazlo Reports had been conditioned from birth to conform to somebody’s vision of the ideal fighting man. They worked beautifully as a team, totally bloodthirsty, placing no great importance on personal survival-and the Taurans cut them to ribbons.

The Taurans also fought with no regard for self. But they were better at it, and there were always more of them.

Kynock took a drink and watched the colors. “I’ve seen your psych profile,” he said. “Both before you got here and after your session in the can. It’s essentially the same, before and after.”

“That’s reassuring.” I signaled for another beer.

“Maybe it shouldn’t be.”

“What, it says I won’t make a good officer? I told them that from the beginning. I’m no leader.”

“Right in a way, wrong in a way. Want to know what that profile says?”

I shrugged. “Classified, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said. “But you’re a major now. You can pull the profile of anybody in your command.”

“I don’t suppose it has any big surprises.” But I was a little curious. What animal isn’t fascinated by a mirror?

“No. It says you’re a pacifist. A failed one at that, which gives you a mild neurosis. Which you handle by transferring the burden of guilt to the army.”

The fresh beer was so cold it hurt my teeth. “No surprises yet.”

“And as far as being a leader, you do have a certain potential. But it would be along the lines of a teacher or a minister; you would have to lead from empathy, compassion. You have the desire to impose your ideas on other people, but not your will. Which means, you’re right, you’ll make one hell of a bad officer unless you shape up.”

I had to laugh. “UNEF must have known all of this when they ordered me to officer training.”

“There are other parameters,” he said. “For instance, you’re adaptable, reasonably intelligent, analytical. And you’re one of the eleven people who’s lived through the whole war.”

“Surviving is a virtue in a private.” Couldn’t resist it. “But an officer should provide gallant example. Go down with the ship. Stride the parapet as if unafraid.”

He harrumphed at that. “Not when you’re a thousand light years from your replacement.”

“It doesn’t add up, though. Why would they haul me all the way from Heaven to take a chance on my ‘shaping up,’ when probably a third of the people here on Stargate are better officer material? God, the military mind!”

“I suspect the bureaucratic mind, at least, had something to do with it. You have an embarrassing amount of seniority to be a footsoldier.”

“That’s all time dilation. I’ve only been in three campaigns.”

“Immaterial. Besides, that’s two-and-a-half more than the average soldier survives. The propaganda boys will probably make you into some kind of a folk hero.”

“Folk hero.” I sipped at the beer. “Where is John Wayne now that we really need him?”

“John Wayne?” He shook his head. “I never went in the can, you know. I’m no expert at military history.”

“Forget it.”

Kynock finished his drink and asked the private to get him-I swear to God-a “rum Antares.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be your Temporal Orientation Officer. What do you want to know about the present? What passes for the present.”

Still on my mind: “You’ve never been in the can?”

“No, combat officers only. The computer facilities and energy you go through in three weeks would keep the Earth running for several days. Too expensive for us deskwarmers.”

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *