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Well, for one, rabbits are cute. Numerous psychological studies over the past thousand years of the diaspora have shown that humans need a certain amount of cuddliness in their lives, and rabbits are the only things on Niflheim that provide that for us.
“So,” I finally manage. “Out of all the stuff Berto and I were talking about, that’s what you fixated on?” “Yeah,” he says. “Pretty much. Why? Was there something else that I ought to give a shit about?”
“Yes, Barnes. The fact that you are sitting here in one piece and not dispersed into your component elements and drifting through the stratosphere right now is a strong indication that we were able to bring the situation under control.
Nasha and I are on the bed, which is pretty close to the only place it’s possible to be in our room.
The typical crew complement on a colony mission is under two hundred adults, who are responsible for shepherding and protecting several thousand frozen embryos. That group has to include the seeds of everything that you’ll need to form a fully functional technological society: administrators, doctors, lawyers, engineers, farmers, etc., etc., etc. There’s not a lot of room there for a guy who has an intimate knowledge of how to work the espresso machine. That thing needs to pretty much run itself.
The main limiting factor isn’t expertise, in other words. It’s having the appropriate permissions to turn things on.
“Look, I haven’t thought through all the details.” She laughs behind her rebreather, shakes her head, and leans back on her elbows. “Babe, the fact that you’re here on this planet tells me everything I ever needed to know about your ability to think through all the details.”
“I . . . what the hell, Mickey? What the actual hell? You want to do a download into an active cortex—and it’s of your own memories. For what possible reason could you want that? You’ve got early-onset dementia? You forgot where you left your wallet two years ago? You want to reminisce about freezing your ass off? What?”
“You really can talk to them, right? That part wasn’t bullshit?” “I could. I’m honestly not sure if I still can. I tried to ping them last night. They didn’t answer me.” “Huh. And if it turns out you can’t?” “I don’t know,” I say. “Sign language? Hand puppets? How are you with interpretive dance?”
“Did I miss something?” Nasha asks. “Are we bringing the rabbits with us?”
“I am confused,” Speaker says. “Was this story intended to reassure me of your good intentions toward us?” Nasha shrugs. “Maybe. Did it?” “No,” Speaker says. “Not at all.” “No kidding,” Cat says. “That story really didn’t show humanity in the best light, did it, Nasha? Maybe you could have started him off with something a little less genocidal?”
“I think,” he says, “that it is possible that you may be a great deal more dangerous than we had thought.”
“Friends don’t feed friends to spiders.”
Do I care if he does? Doesn’t matter. Nasha won’t die. The universe owes me this one. I’ve died enough for both of us, haven’t I?
“Okay,” Quinn says. “You’re all hooked up. Ready?” I’ve had a good run. Hell, for an Expendable, I’ve had a great run. I’ve been alive for over two years. I’ve explored a new world. I’ve had adventures. I’ve communed with an alien intelligence. I’ve spent nearly every night of my life with Nasha wrapped around me. Honestly, who could ask for more? “Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”
