CHAPTER FIVE
"The real problem is not whether machines think but whether men do." - B.F. Skinner
The Mother-General's austere gray quarters were lit the old fashioned way with twisted fluorescent bulbs giving off a bluish light throughout and leaving the room with no natural shadows in which to seek comfort. The blue light, intended to soothe one's soul, did not seem to have a calming effect on her or her son right now.
"How could you let my youngest son, or any one of your soldiers for that matter, run to their death, Captain? A simple diversion! You've done this a dozen times. You're their commanding officer! You're supposed to protect them!"
She was obviously furious with him. Perspiration rested on her upper lip. She's been angry for quite a while, thought Carlos.
"Yes, Mother," he replied, calmly trying to diffuse her anger. "Your son was my brother, too, you know."
"Your half-brother, our little brother. I know I've said we have to win no matter the cost, but not this way. I was never really sure you loved him. You always fought so." Sometimes it seemed she groused and pouted much like most mothers who had lost direct control of her children as they grew up. In her case it was more than that. She had lost them all to the Cause, but it was the only sacrifice she regretted making as the supreme leader of the Shadow Cause.
"Of course, we fought. That's what brothers do."
"Oh, I suppose it's true." She turned her back on him. He sighed; somewhat relieved she was no longer examining his every visible feature, looking for flaws even through his Stealth garments.
"I paid more attention to him than I did to you. It wasn't because I loved you less. It's because I wanted you to prove yourself to others, and to me, I admit it. But I did it for your own good. It's what made you strong." She smiled a half smile of regret and spoke with some tenderness. "And stubborn, too," she reminisced and then paused briefly as if she could see her children, reliving a moment in that carefree time. Carefree as only a child can know here and now.
"Neither one of you ever gave in to the other," she persisted. "That is—until now. I always feared that one day one of you would quit, and hoped that the one who won the moment would learn from it. I know that you and Ramón made a deal to let me think you were not at cross purposes anymore. Ramón always gave in to you, didn't he? He worshipped you, his fearless leader—his big brother."
"Aren't you forgetting what we've gained these last two raids?" he pointed out, ignoring her sentimentality and remembering that professionally there is no time to grieve. "We have the upper torso of a new cybert."
"Oh, yes. Three raids after your brother died. Didn't even come home to tell me yourself. Had to hear it from that awful Leach." Carlos started to speak but his mother turned away. "You waited until you finally won the trophy," she added venomously as she turned back to him.
"The mission..."
"Yes," she declared, not hiding her disgust. "Well, our Cause is bigger than a single trophy!"
Mother tossed her white nearly waist-length hair as she always did when she was angry. Like one of the planet's extinct beasts in a cage, she paced back and forth in her quarters. Normally, instead of tossing her hair, she would be tossing expressions of sympathy for the dead soldiers, while remaining reserved and maintaining her military bearing. Not this day. On this day she didn't seem to care about the battle or other casualties besides her youngest son. She was, after all, a mother too.
Carlos knew her resolve was more aptly termed stubbornness. Other leaders often mistook her doggedness for leadership or bravery; but whichever it was, it would be that quality that would keep her Shadows unyielding when they needed strength and fortitude to be a part of a nearly impossible mission fighting against a nearly impossible enemy.
She had sacrificed much for her children and for the Nest, although she never really made reference to it. Losing her husbands, their fathers, had made it hard on her, too. It had made her tough and she'd passed some of that toughness on to her sons. The fact she'd became known as Mother-General was no fluke or whim; she hadn't always been strong, but she had always been smart. At the moment, she wasn't listening to Carlos or what was important at the moment.
"There wasn't time, Mother," he protested, appealing to the natural biological connection he shared with her. "You know how fast Makr adapts. We had to strike before Makr adapted the cyberprotectors again."
"I made you the leader because you had an innate talent. I saw that when you were young. You were born to adapt to the Shadows, born to lead. Now, you betray me."
"No, Mother. I did what was necessary. Ramón was a soldier. If I had to do it again, I would. I have to live with his loss, too."
"And, Marta? Do you mourn her death as well?"
That hurt. "Of course."
"Just as I mourn my son, your brother? A mother's love goes deeper."
"I know, Mother. Ramón and I were closer than you know. You have to know I loved him, too."
Her silence was always unnerving. She could make anyone squirm by just focusing her penetrating steely blue eyes on their eyes and not speaking. What more does she want from me? Her eerie uncharacteristic silence made him dig deep for equilibrium; he felt the need to blame something or someone for his mistakes so he lashed out.
"He may have been my half-brother—half came from you and half from another father you loved once. Did Ramón know you were the reason his father died?"
She was silent. Her eyes, ice. Stubborn like Ray, like her son.
"Never forget, Mother, Ramón was also my friend. My best friend."
"This is not like you," Mother-General allowed, then threw her spears, raised her voice and took command, "How dare you try to shift blame by changing the subject? So I have sons by different fathers. It was necessary. You'll understand someday. For what it's worth, I loved both fathers just as I loved Ramón and you. All my husbands, your fathers, died for the Cause. They all sacrificed themselves for their sons. Both accepted command and leadership like it were made for them. Each, separately and on his own merit, brought us a little further out of the shadows, and made us more human beings than the cowering creatures we left Inside. They gave us back our dignity. We fight for the right to be human—only human, while still others of our own kind, are safe and snug and tucked in by Makr. We'll have to lead them out someday whether they like it or not."
"I know, Mother. We're the chosen strong. I've heard it before."
"This is the only life I have known, Mother.
"You have to believe all can be better."
No more lectures, she had promised herself, but she went on anyway, "It's not just that. By letting your brother die, you've made an irreparable rent in the Nest. We are family. That is all we are. All we have. Our kinship makes us strong. You are responsible for weakening that bond. This much is done. Now, it's over. Nothing you can do; nothing we can do."
Why can't you have vision like your father, Carlos? She posed the question to herself. She looked at him, silent and reverent, strong underneath his Stealth cloak but hurting; yet even now he did not challenge her. I hope it is not too late for you. There is another son of another father, but he is too far away from me. I had hoped you would be the one, Carlos. I named Ramón after Ray; he was smarter, but not necessarily leadership material. You were the chosen one, the most likely leader to bring us completely out of the Shadows. If it's not you, all may be lost now, and there is nothing more I can do. Makr has won. Damn it, Ray! You and your damn misguided vision!
"I want you to go, Carlos. Go away from us. Find your own future."
"What? You mean leave the Nest?"
Afraid to let any of her emotions show, she raised an eyebrow and nodded in response.
"Are you serious?"
Her voice was tinged with anger and sadness. "Come back to us when you are ready to fulfill your destiny."
"What destiny?"
"You'll know when the time comes. Your heart and brain both will be in charge—more than your pride. Priorities not efficienci
es. Efficiencies are for the enemy."
"I can't believe you are comparing me to Cyber."
Silence.
Carlos broke it. "You want me to leave and start over?"
"Oh, I really don't blame you...as a leader. You're a fine soldier. Respected and loved. More leaders should be so honored. No, my problem is with the private, personal pain you have caused me by letting your brother go to his death. Every time I see you I'll feel this pain, and it will interfere with our mission. I know I've always said we don't have the luxury of tears, but I need time to mourn."
"Mother, I..."
She raised her hand to stop his speech. "I think it's best," she said. "I'm sure you can find another group to take you in, probably with the same rank and position. You have a good reputation as a leader. Don't worry. It won't be long before this is your Nest to protect as before. If it helps any..."
What was she up to?
"...there will be another you will call 'brother.'" She didn't expect him to understand, and she didn't bother to explain. "Try to treat him better. He'll need a lot of help adjusting to our world."
Carlos didn't understand. He didn't have another brother. At least, he didn't think so, but it wasn't unlike his mother to allude to some indirect or less obvious reference. She had secrets. He knew that much.
"They are all my brothers and sisters," he said, referring to his Shadow soldiers. "Don't think I mourn the loss of them any less than my own."
"You always know how to put it in perspective, Captain. I'm weary. Let us talk later, Carlos. As your mother, I want to know of your plans for your journey."
My banishment, you mean.
"As you wish, Mother-General." Carlos bowed gallantly with attitude, turned smartly and left. Opening the door, he stopped short when he saw his lieutenant standing there.
"Mother-General wants to see you, too, I suppose."
"You suppose right, Captain." His friend pulled him outside the door for the moment. "What happened in there, Carlos?"
Carlos shrugged and shakes his head.
"Hey, we got him, didn't we?" Greg tried changing the subject to cheer him up. "We got The Blue Leader! Do you think this is the break we've been looking for? A flaw in the armor! I didn't say that, did I?" He laughed. "Pardon my pun."
But Carlos wasn't amused by his friend's jocular enthusiasm. "I don't know. I really don't know," he answered. He turns his serious mood to what seemed to be more reflective. "It was a good mission, wasn't it?"
Greg could see his friend was preoccupied, probably worrying that the Cyber were evolving much faster than before, or so he thought. It wasn't like Carlos to be anything but on task at any given moment. The fact that his brother and former lover had died in the latest fight is secondary—or as secondary as it could be owing to his human condition. Carlos wasn't as cold as a Cyber yet, even though it might be easier to fight this war if he were.
Despite his own problems, Carlos managed to ask about Kieran, "How is she?" Both of the men knew her eyes were truly special. Eyes so bright you thought you could see them sparkle even in the Shadows.
"She's got new eyes now, thanks to the cloning engineers, but she'll take a few weeks to heal. I think she may have lost her nerve in the process."
"Guess you can't even trust degenerates like Leach anymore."
"What?"
"I had hoped having Leach take her home would stir the fighter in her. She was a good soldier."
"Is...Carlos. Is! She's still a good soldier. You should tell her that. I think she blames herself for the runaway laser. After all, she was in charge of weapons and tools."
"It wasn't her fault. I'll talk to her." Part of Carlos wanted and needed to talk, while another part wanted to find a comforting Shadow. "Something else is happening, Greg. Something big. I feel it."
Greg gave his friend a knowing look that he didn't see.
"I don't feel secure in our shadows anymore."
Disintegrate the dead first, and then celebrate the living. Tomorrow would be soon enough to set to work solving the new problem.
Deep down, both also know tomorrow might not be soon enough.
"Sorry about Ramón..." Greg said, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "...and Marta."
"Me, too." Carlos paused and stopped Greg as he started through the door. "If it's any consolation—I knew you and Marta were seeing each other. I just didn't say anything. It seemed you two were making it all work. I was hoping you both would be happy."
"Thanks." He saw a tear forming in his friend's eye. "But, you? I...we had no idea you knew."
Carlos smiled, masking his hurt, and winked at his comrade. "Be careful in there," he said indicating the entryway. "It's personal."
"I know. Don't worry."