Kinder des Schicksals 4 (Xeelee 9): Resplendent

adult counterparts, in part because their lack of
maturity and experience leads them to take unnecessary risks. And
their young bodies are more susceptible to complications if injured.
But little has yet been invested in their training.’
    ’So they are expendable.’
    ’We are all expendable,’ Dolo said. ’But some are more expendable
than others. They will not suffer, Luca: if it comes, death here is
usually rapid. And if they see their fellows fall they will not
grieve; their childish empathy has been beaten out of them.’ The
Virtual floated closer to Luca, studying his face, close enough for
Luca to see the graininess of the pixels. ’You are still thinking
this is inhuman, aren’t you? The evolution of your conscience is
proving a fascinating study, Novice. Of course it is inhuman. All
that matters are the numbers, the rates of mortality, the
probabilities and cost of success. This is a statistical war - as
wars have always been.’
    There was a piercing whistle-like blast over the comms unit.
Virtual Dolo popped out of existence, grinning.
    A few of the child soldiers scrambled back over the trench’s lip -
a very few, and several of them were nursing injuries. More troops
came scurrying like files of rats along the trench. Soon there was a
double line of them, most carrying hand weapons or tools, peering up
at the sky.
    For a few heartbeats everybody was still, waiting.
    Bayla was beside Luca, as intent as the rest. Luca whispered to
her, ’What was the last thing you did before we left the bio
facility?’
    ’I sent my daughter a Virtual.’
    A daughter. Sons and daughters, like family life in general, were
strictly anti-Doctrinal. ’Where is she?’
    ’On New Earth. I told her how as a baby she laughed when she
looked at my face. How she slept in my arms, how we bathed together.
I told her that when she grows up and wants to know about me she
should ask her father or her aunt. Whatever becomes of me, she must
never think of herself as a child without a mother. I will always be
watching her.’
    ’From your place at Timelike Infinity,’ he hazarded.
    ’I want her to be good, and to be the kind of person others would
like. But I told her I was sorry that I had been a poor mother, an
absent mother. When she was very small she had a doll, a soldier. I
carry it with me as a good-luck charm.’ She patted her dust-covered
tunic. Luca saw a slight bulge there. ’This way she is always with
me. The last time I saw her was during my last leave on New Earth.
She was with the other children. They lined up to wave flags and sing
for us. It’s burned in my mind, her face that day. I told her that
when she hears of my death she should be happy for me, for I will
have achieved my ambition.’
    ’You embrace death, but you dream of your family.’
    Bayla glanced at him. ’What else is there to do?’
    Another piercing shriek in Luca’s comms unit. No, it was a word,
he realised, a word yelled so loud it overwhelmed the system itself.
In response there was a muffled roar - more voices, thousands of
voices, shouting together, maybe every trooper on the Rock.
    Bayla raised her hand again, watching lights flash on her sleeve.
’Wait, wait.’ The cherry-red light in the sky was growing brighter,
shading to pink. It was like a silent, gathering sunrise, as if the
Rock was turning to face some vast source of heat, and the noise rose
in response.
    Bayla brought her arm chopping down.
    The first row of troopers swarmed forward, struggling to get out
of the trench. Red light flared. Most of them fell back immediately,
broken, limp, gases venting from ruined suits, and the yelling was
broken now by screams of pain. Without hesitation the second line
pushed after the first. They trampled on the fallen bodies of their
comrades, even those who still moved, pushing their way over flesh
and dirt to get to the lip of the trench. But they fell back in their
turn, as if their bodies were exploding. Yet another line of troopers
gathered and began to rush over the lip of the trench.
    Suddenly Luca felt swept up, as if a great tide of blood was
lifting these yelling troopers into battle. Without conscious thought
he tore at the dirt with clumsy hands and hoisted his body out of the
trench.
     
    He was standing in a flood of light. Hardly anyone was standing
with him, of the hundreds who had gone before him. There was a
huddled heap of skinsuit every few paces, and bodies drifted
helplessly above like moons of this