Free The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi Page B

solider,” Szilard said. “While I wouldn’t say I am in a rush, you know as well as I do what the turnover rate for Special Forces is. We always need more. And let’s just say I have faith that this particular soldier may yet turn out to be useful.”
    â€œSuch optimism,” Mattson said.
    Szilard smiled. “Do you know how Special Forces soldiers are named, General?” Szilard asked.
    â€œYou’re named after scientists and artists,” Mattson said.
    â€œScientists and philosophers,” Szilard said. “Last names, anyway. The first names are just random common names. I’m named after Leo Szilard. He was one of the scientists who helped to build the first atomic bomb, a fact that he would later come to regret.”
    â€œI know who Leo Szilard was, Szi,” Mattson said.
    â€œI didn’t mean to imply you didn’t, General,” Szilard said. “Although you never know with you realborn. You have funny gaps in your knowledge.”
    â€œWe spend most of our later educational years trying to get laid,” Mattson said. “It distracts most of us from stockpiling information about twentieth-century scientists.”
    â€œImagine that,” Szilard said, mildly, and then continued on his train of thought. “Aside from his scientific talents, Szilard was also good at predicting things. He predicted both of Earth’s world wars in the twentieth century and other major events. It made him jumpy. He made it a point to live in hotels and always have a packed bag ready. Just in case.”
    â€œFascinating,” Mattson said. “What’s your point?”
    â€œI don’t pretend to be related to Leo Szilard in any way,” Szilard said. “I was just assigned his name. But I think I share his talent for predicting things, especially when it comes to wars. I think this war we’ve got coming is going to get very bad indeed. That’s not just speculation; we’ve been gathering intelligence now that my people know what to look for. And you don’t have to be in possession of intelligence to know that humanity going up against three different races makes for bad odds for us.” Szilard motioned his head in the direction of the lab. “This soldier may not have Boutin’s memories, but he’s still got Boutin in him—in his genes. I think it’ll make a difference, and we’re going to need all the help we can get. Call him my packed bag.”
    â€œYou want him because of a hunch,” Mattson said.
    â€œAmong other things,” Szilard said.
    â€œSometimes it really shows that you’re a teenager, Szi,” Mattson said.
    â€œDo you release this soldier to me, General?” Szilard asked.
    Mattson waved, dismissively. “He’s yours, General,” he said. “Enjoy. At least I won’t have to worry about this one turning traitor.”
    â€œThank you,” Szilard said.
    â€œAnd what are you going to do with your new toy?” Mattson asked.
    â€œFor starters,” Szilard said, “I think we’ll give him a name.”

FOUR
    He came into the world like most newborns do: screaming.
    The world around him was formless chaos. Something was close to him and making noises at him when the world showed up; it frightened him. Suddenly it went away, leaking loud noises as it went.
    He cried. He tried to move his body but could not. He cried some more.
    Another form approached; based on his only previous experience, he yelled in fear and tried to get away. The form made noise and movement.
    Clarity .
    It was as if corrective lenses had been placed on his consciousness. The world snapped into place. Everything remained unfamiliar, but everything also seemed to make sense. He knew that even though he couldn’t identify or name anything he saw, it all had names and identities; some portion of his mind surged into life, itching to label it all but could not.
    The entire