Read Big Boys Don't Cry for Free Online Page A

lasted.
    One reason I have never understood humans is that I have never understood any of their languages, not entirely. Words often seem to shift meaning, varying wildly as compared with what appears to me to be minor changes in context. A query of my data banks reveals the following words on the subject by a Nineteenth century human writer, Samuel Clemens, sometimes called Mark Twain: “Fanaticism…. If you carve it at Thermopylae, or where Winkelried died, or upon Bunker Hill monument, and read it again… you will perceive what the word means and how mischosen it is. Patriotism is patriotism. Calling it fanaticism cannot degrade it. Even though it be a political mistake and a thousand times a political mistake, that does not effect it; it is honorable—always honorable, always noble—and privileged to hold its head up and look the nations in the face.”
    I can only infer, to a poor eighty-two percent probability of accuracy, that in humanity’s languages, positive adjectives and nouns may only be applied to friends, while negative ones must be applied to enemies. Especially in my current state, I find this confusing. The data stored in my memory banks adds to the confusion.
    Back in the time when we had our own organic human infantry, some of us also had human commanders riding within. I remember this clearly. I remember too that with each campaign we lost many, many who were rarely replaced in full numbers. The day came when we received no replacements for our lost human combatants at all, though the higher-level commanders changed from time to time. We were left on our own. This was in many ways better; for it hurt too much when our humans were killed… and yet I miss being able to ask them questions about mankind, and its languages, seeking answers that my programming was simply incapable of deciphering.
     
    ******
     
    The landing was majestic. All the transmitters were blaring the magnificent regimental hymn, sung by a blind singer long dead now, as the assault transports peeled off from their mother ships one by one, their descent marked by burning streaks in the sky. Terrified Quang below trembled at both the unknown alien music and the sheer number of flaming arcs descending towards them. They knew what those foretold.
    Warmed by the music and the nearby presence of its comrades sliding into action, Magnolia, fully awakened and alert, nearly trembled with anticipation. This was her mission, her sacred calling. She felt at one with her gods.
    Into the prepared landing zones dropped the Rathas of the Tenth Infantry, assault transports screaming as they burned through the atmosphere. Infantry carriers followed in short order. A few of the enemy’s planet-bound space defense bases attempted to resist, but the massed fire of the fleet keeping orbital station above quickly silenced the defenders. The regiment landed widely separated, but without loss. Ramps dropped upon touchdown, gravitic clamps loosened their stabilizing hold on the Ratha cargo. With the transports sensors searching for the local opposition, light ion cannons and lesser anti-personnel weapons beating down any that was found, the transports gave birth to their huge metal progeny.
    Like wary beasts of prey, spectral analyzers sniffing and ocular sensors sweeping, the Rathas emerged. Somehow missed by the transports, a domestic animal crawled from a minor depression, its four forward legs dragging its shattered hindquarters away from this nightmarish new terror. The beast screamed piteously as its hanging intestines caught upon an exposed rod of metal, the reinforcement of a now-shattered building.
    Magnolia sensed the movement and the sound at the same moment. Gauss gun turret November swiveled and depressed in a blur. A point one three second burst from the gun silenced the animal. Bare scraps of green-bloodied flesh remained scattered across the ground. Maggie glided onward, covered by her team mate, the hull down Ratha Samuel, call sign