Lost

Sink or swim.

Facing Commander Richard Walker-a mere physical trainer of Ghosts yet the only member of staff the Confederacy was willing to spare right now, Ilsa Killiany reflected on the saying. It was simple in a sense-sink and drown, or swim and survive, yet there was more to it. What if sinking allowed you to evade the current carrying you to the falls? What if swimming left you exhausted? And what if, for whatever reason, you just wanted to lie down and give up?

But you're not giving up are you?

"Ground troops have secured the Ghost Academy ma'am. Tarsonis City can protest all it wants, but it isn't going to do any damage."

"They don't have to," the director of the Ghost Program murmured. "The place is damaged enough as it is."

Killiany knew that Walker, while not a teep, could read her mind. In a matter of hours, what had been a bunch of dissidents formed in light of Korhal's destruction, had become a legitimate threat. She hadn't agreed with the Council's decision to let Mengsk's propaganda air, but in the end, had acquiesced to their demands. Someone had to explain why a "school for the gifted" had been the subject of a terrorist attack-the same rebels that had attacked an "environmental plant" on Vyctor 5. Obviously they could leave out certain aspects, such as the existence of alien species and how the recently defected Ghost No. 24 had been part of that, but still, at least some level of truth had to be circulated.

"Well, enough brooding," Killiany declared, mainly speaking to herself. "Soon as we get that redhead back, the sooner we-..."

"Ma'am, is that wise?"

Killiany blinked. Her spectacles didn't hide the motion, the temperature of her office dropped a few degrees and Walker was still standing there after questioning her. Either a temporal paradox was about to consume the universe or the physical trainer had developed suicidal tendencies. Either way, Killiany was curious to find out which.

"Walker, Ghost No. 24 is a traitor to the Terran Confederacy, not to mention a gifted teep and teek. And now that she's joined a rebel group, what possible reason would there be for letting her go?"

"Because she's not a traitor," answered Walker firmly, displaying more conviction that Killiany thought possible. "No Ghost is. We give them few choices in life and of the few that are presented, very few trainees serve the Confederacy willingly. You can't call someone a traitor if they were never truly on our side in the first place."

Killiany opened her mouth...then closed it. She had to admit, Walker had a point. Any human who wanted to be a Ghost was...well, rare to say the least and probably had an odd perception of the world. True, neural inhibitors guaranteed loyalty in a sense, but were easily reversible, as the so-called Sons of Korhal had recently demonstrated. Maybe in the end, if the Confederacy wanted another debacle like this, they had to focus on the issue of Ghost loyalty rather than other factors.

Maybe it was time for a new approach...

Am I right? Am I wrong? Is this the best method?

Sighing, Ilsa Killiany didn't know. All that she knew was that the road she'd begun after that talk with Walker was at its end with no more possible detours left to her.

The commander had raised a good point, one that many Confederates had shared and the few who didn't being compelled one way or another. Ghost No. 24 had demonstrated how fragile a Ghost's loyalty could be and if the Confederacy was to prevent a repeat of the events that Mengsk had carried out, it was wise to address the point. So, in the end, what many had pushed for had become S.O.P. Ghosts would be loyal to the Confederacy.

Loyal because, unlike with neural inhibitors, would have no choice whatsoever.

Mind wipes were the future of the Ghost Program. Its director had made sure of that. But even now, going over the numbers and codenames of new recruits in her office, she had to wonder. The Confederacy was depending on her and the choice she'd made would have great bearing on its future. There was the very real possibility that she'd made the wrong choice, that the "fuzzy" approach Walker had wanted was correct. Maybe, at times, a caring approach was better than a stern one.

Shrugging her shoulders and dismissing such poppycock, Killiany returned to work.