"What do you think of him?" asked the Colonel.
Fraser pursed his lips as he pondered the question. "Do you mean Belessar, sir?"
"Come on, Doug. I've known you for nine years now. Don't play dense."
"Sorry. Just getting my thoughts in order."
"I don't want a meticulously researched analysis that concludes with 'insufficient data', Doug. Just…. your impressions. Who is he, as a person?"
"I think he's …. awfully young."
The Colonel nodded. "Go on."
"You know the dumb kids we get as volunteers?"
"Like us, once upon a time? Yeah."
"Well. He reminds me a bit of them."
"He struck you as stupid?"
"Quite the opposite. He's smart. Very smart. Disciplined. Dedicated. But frequently out of his depth."
The Colonel nodded. "He's handed over data that most ultrahumans would charge millions for."
"And we'd pay them."
“Better to spend money than lives.”
“He really doesn’t know what this data is worth, does he?”
Fraser shook his head. “Not a clue. I’ve so far hidden our lack of information behind a wall of official secrets and need-to-know. We’ll have to see how long that lasts.”
“What happens when he figures out how little we actually know?”
The Major shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Personally, I think we could still persuade him to hand over data for a while. As long as we treat him fairly.”
“What do you mean by fairly?”
“Give him what he’s due. His actions made a pretty big dent on the enemy at New York. They classified him as a frontliner.”
“Not as an anchor?”
“No. First battle and all that. Plus… there’s some opposition to classifying possible villains as anchors.”
Goldman looked puzzled. “He’s a villain?”
“He’s responsible for at least thirty deaths. That we know of.” Fraser paused. “All gangsters - particularly Grunters - and every single one can be classified as a combat action, but still.”
“He doesn’t sound - or act - like someone who’s killed in cold blood. He reminded me of a kid, actually…. Are you sure he’s an adult?”
Fraser smiled bitterly. “I rather suspect he isn’t.” He pulled out his tablet. “This is a photo of Belessar at lunch.”
The Colonel looked at it. “He’s biting into an apple. So?”
“So I made sure we could take a shot of his teeth. Then I showed it to a dentist. And I showed him the apple core as well.”
“You got his dentures.”
“I got his dentures. And I got an opinion from the dentist. Third molars are still open.” Fraser paused. “Dentist puts him between fifteen and eighteen.”
“Damn,” muttered Goldman. “Is it at least closer to the upper end of the scale?”
“Middle to upper. I wish I could reassure you that he’s an adult…. but I really can’t.”
Goldman sighed. “Did anyone suspect that, when he showed up in New York?”
“No-one. He’s six foot three and built like an offensive guard - plus that helmet really masks his voice well.”
“But he drinks. That’s what the soldiers who took him to the bar said, right?”
“According to the after-mission briefing, they had a really easy time persuading him to do what we wanted. Too easy.”
“We saw that today. The lad has no experience in resisting manipulation.” Colonel Goldman leaned back. “I don’t know about you, but what we did today? Makes me feel a little dirty.”
“I see it differently. It’s my view that if he knew what we do, he’d volunteer the information anyway.”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that. Because you haven’t told him just how bad the situation is.”
“Well, he did kill thirty people and walk away with no side effects.”
“You think he’s a psychopath?”
“No. A psychopath lacks empathy. What he lacks is …. context. Life experience.”
“You think he doesn’t actually get how bad his killing people is.”
“At some level, he rationalizes it. Like a police officer or a soldier. There’s the enemy, he’s vile and vicious, killing him is a good thing.”
“And we’re aiding that impression. Explain to me again why we aren’t guilty of a war crime?”
“I don’t think we’re telling him anything he wouldn’t believe on his own. The aliens are the enemy; every schoolchild knows that. Heck, his town was hit by aliens some time ago.”
“That doesn’t really make this right, Doug.”
“I wish I had a different option, sir. Every parent knows that underage ultrahumans don’t take part in action; they still sent him to fight. Every ultrahuman knows the risks - he still volunteered. Not only that, he kept his fellow soldiers alive; which is more than most ultras do.”
“And he shares what he learns about the aliens freely.”
“That too. Not that we’d refuse to pay if he asked.”
“But we’re not offering him money.”
“We’re offering him facilities, support, everything he’s asked for. We’re giving him an unbelievable level of access.”
“All in our own interest. That argument’s not going to stack up in front of a Board of Enquiry, you know.”
“The good thing about children, Colonel, is that they eventually become adults. We just need to hang on for a couple of years and hope he survives the next few battles. In which case our problem gets taken care of.”
“The Protocol on Involvement of Children in Armed Conflict is pretty clear - we aren’t off the hook as a result of this.”
“Leaving aside OPAC, there’s also the issue of him having a squad of armed women with the same equipment as he has - who were also trained on our base, even if not officially - and using them to ambush a gang on the steps of a courthouse. Without informing the Tanisport police, which has caused a fair bit of heartburn with the civil authorities.”
“What idiot made that decision?”
“I did, sir.”
“Wonderful. Anything else?”
“If it comes out that he’s underage, our troops at Hanratty’s could be arrested for buying alcohol for a minor. Which - given the current mood of the Tanisport police with us - is mostly guaranteed.”
Colonel Goldman massaged his temples. “Are you going to keep giving me headaches, Doug?”
“Just one more, sir.”
The Colonel grimaced. “Go ahead.”
“We know he can be manipulated. If we aren’t the ones talking to him - and shaping his views - then who else is likely to step in?”