Base Metal (The Sword Book 2)

and kill for their cause. What makes the difference?"
"Equipment?" Firenze asked.
"No." Halstead replied, disgust heavy in his voice. "Everything I listed was a thing, a 'what' or 'how'. There is a reason we don't get to ask 'why'. We've already given our answer."
The colonel continued, "Most people aren't warriors by nature - they're too timid, too herd-minded - and that's good. Warriors are dangerous. They break things, hurt people. What we're looking for are fighters who are willing to fight for reasons beyond self. A good soldier does not fight for his pride, wealth, prestige, or any other 'thing' which can be gained, beyond the satisfaction of a worthy sacrifice. He gives himself up to his unit, to the flag, to the Articles, and to protect the people back home. No knowledge or tools can compel this mindset, for they are merely things. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Firenze nodded. To be honest, it sounded a bit self-aggrandizing, the kind of fancy words used to justify the unjustifiable. Sure, there was a poetry in it, in an antiquated 'banners and glory' kind of way. Maybe it helped the colonel sleep at night, so he didn't have to measure himself against Pathies and gangers? On the other hand, the old man had pulled the mind virus from Firenze's skull, so there was no need to be rude. He answered, "You're saying it has to be chosen."
"Correct. Affirmatively so. If the mindset of a soldier can be given, like they tried with you, then that decision is no longer a choice. Just like a rifle or uniform, it is a thing, and I find myself unimpressed with the type of person who would kill for things. When you had that allergic reaction, I confess I was gratified. It gives me hope that we can't imprint the intangible. It means we still have to choose."
"Glad I could help." Firenze stated, sourly. "But now you're going to proposition me, aren't you? You want me to 'choose' to be one of your soldiers."
"Not want. Need." Halstead answered. "I need you to be the kind of man who wants to join. I'd wanted one of my team for this job. I got you instead. You're the only man capable, and I need you to step up, or a lot of innocents are going to die." The colonel's voice was compassion undergirded with steel, like a doctor giving a terminal diagnosis.
"And if I can't?" Firenze asked. He would have liked to claim defiance, but he knew that fear drove the question.
Halstead sighed, again, not with disappointment but resignation. "If you can't, then I cut you from the mission and send you home. Most likely, the Agency brings you back to their tender care. My team attempts our mission without you, a lot of people die, and my ghost haunts you in prison."
The sheer absurdity of it all forced a giggle from Firenze's lips. This was wrong. It was stupid. Why should lives depend on him? He couldn't even hold his own together! But what could he do? Run, back to prison? What would his mother say when she learned? This was stupid. He was trapped, given an option but not a choice.
Firenze swallowed down the madness, the fear, the dumb horror of it all. He faced the colonel and answered, "I'll do my best."
Halstead nodded. From his frown, Firenze knew it wasn't the answer he'd wanted, but it was one he'd accept.
The colonel said, "I'll take it. To be clear: your training will be hell. For whatever strengths your mind has, your body is unprepared. We will drain that weakness from you. You may mistake our mercy for cruelty because lives now ride on your shoulders. You will learn in months what should take years. You will succeed because your wetware and intellect make you uniquely able. You will triumph because you must.
"There are rules you will follow. You will not contact the outside world. You will not access the open net. Our mission is secret, and we are under a blackout. The enemy has spies all through the net, and hundreds will die if they learn of our plans. You will not contact anyone outside this facility, nor access any system. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Firenze agreed. "What about internal networks? Can I keep my box?"
"Absolutely. That's part of your selling point. But keep it off the net. Remember, lives will be lost if you violate this order."
"I understand."
"Good. As we proceed, you will learn more about the target and mission. Before we depart, you have all the information you could possibly want and know it more thoroughly than you ever desired. This data will be presented as required by the mission, and you will not dig for more."
"I thought you said I could ask questions?"
"You're not a soldier, but this is a soldier's mission. I'll let you grow back your hair, I'll let you keep your room as a civilian dormitory, I'll let you stay away from salutes and dress, but you will follow basic directives. While you are on a military mission, you will remain within the strictures of military conduct. This is not a game.
"Finally, and this is critical..." the colonel glanced towards the door. For the first time, Firenze saw worry cross the man's face. Halstead continued, "There is another asset on this mission. He is an Agency contractor, providing services to the State. He is an intelligence resource on the opposition, but you must be wary of him. He has done terrible things, he is a master manipulator, and he will still have his own agenda. You will avoid him. You will not contact him. If he attempts to speak with you without my officers present, you will immediately disengage and report it. No matter what he says, threatens, or promises, the worst choice would be to keep his confidence. Always tell us of anything he says or tries to trick you into doing. Do you understand?"
Impossibly, the ice in Firenze's stomach