"James Edward McCarthy!" I said. "My name is James Edward McCarthy!" And started laughing. It worked.
I found a jumpsuit in the closet. The ubiquitous army jumpsuit. And a pair of slip-ons. Good enough for what I had to do.
First thing, I had to let Fletcher know I was back. Second. I had a dance to plan.
FORTY-NINE
BUT BEFORE I could do anything, General Poole summoned me to his office. I felt embarrassed wearing just the jumpsuit. General Poole didn't get up from his desk; he just pointed to a chair and asked, "Whose idea was it for you to go into the herd?"
"Mine," I said.
He shook his head. "In mah day, Lieutenant, that little stunt would have bought you a Section Eight discharge. Ah expect better behavior than that from mah officers."
"Yes, sir," I said. I resisted the temptation to tell him his day was past.
"However..." he continued, "this particular operation comes from the Science Section, so perhaps you feel that the opinions of your superior officers in the military aren't applicable. Is that correct?"
"No sir." I wondered what he was getting at. "It was my understanding that I'd been authorized by the mission commander, Colonel Tirelli."
The general didn't respond to that. He adjusted his glasses on his nose and peered at the file on the desk in front of him. "You are a science officer, is that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"You have your degree?"
"No, sir. Not yet."
"Do you have a target date?"
"Three years, sir. I've been averaging one course every six to eight weeks. Three hours a day at a terminal, six days a week, I think I'm making pretty good progress. I'm a little behind right now, but I intend to get caught up right after this mission."
"Mm hm. The mission." General Poole closed the folder and raised his face to mine again; his glasses made his eyes look small and mean. "Let me be candid, Lieutenant. Ah wouldn't start any trilogies if Ah were you."
"Sir?"
"This mission tomorrow-it looks like suicide on a shingle to me."
"With all due respect, sir-I don't agree."
"Of course not. But the fact remains, this mission is ... of dubious military value. Do you understand what that means? That's why Ah let you volunteer."
"Huh?"
He tapped the folder with one forefinger. "You've got an asterisk."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm sitting on it."
I regretted the pun instantly. General Poole looked annoyed. "An asterisk is a little star-shaped mark. In this case, it means that you can be put in life-threatenin' situations."
"Terrific," I said. "How did I earn that?"
"Couple of ways." He ticked them off on his fingers. "One-you could be a telepath-are you?"
"Not that I know of. Not unless someone snuck up behind me when my back was turned and gave me a secret implant."
"Hmp. Not bloody likely. Two-you got someone pissed off at you. Have you done that?"
"That I've done," I admitted.
"Or ... three, you've demonstrated that you're a survivor. And--that you can be trusted to produce results. Unfortunately, not all the asterisks are annotated. We'll have to find out which kind you are by sending you north."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Not so fast, Lieutenant. The purpose of this meetin' is a little old-fashioned fine tunin'. Call it an... attitude adjustment." The general picked up a pencil and held it delicately between his two hands.
"An ... attitude adjustment?"
"That's right. How well do you think you can do your job if your loyalties are divided?"
"Sir? I'm afraid I don't understand."
General Poole looked across his desk at me. "Ah'll say it in English, son. I appreciate your scientific contributions, but-Ah want you to remember also that you are still a soldier in the army of the United States of America."
"I don't see the conflict, sir," I said hesitantly. "It seems to me that both the Science Section and the Military are committed to the same thing-" The general looked skeptical. "-aren't they?"
"You tell me, Lieutenant. What's the purpose of this mission?" I quoted from the briefing book: "`. . . to establish a contact relationship with the bunnydogs and/or the gastropedes with the eventual goal of opening a channel for communication.' Sir." I added.
"Mm hm," he said thoughtfully. "And what's the usual purpose of a military mission."
"Uh-" I suddenly realized what he was getting at. "The destruction of the Chtorran ecology."
"That's right." He looked at me calmly. "Some people want to talk to these creatures-and some people want to kill them. Ah'd like to know, Lieutenant, what your feelin's are on the matter."
I was staring down the barrel of a 45-caliber loaded question. "I-I'm on the side of humanity, sir."
"And what does that mean? Are you committed to killin' worms or not?"
"It means, I want to do what will save the most lives."
"And you think that talkin' to the worms or the bunnies might do that?"
"I don't know. That's what we want to find out-"
"But you do think there might be an alternative to killin' them? Isn't that so?"
I swallowed hard and met his gaze. "Yes sir-I'm willing to try."
"Ah see. Well, let me tell you somethin', Lieutenant. The trouble with that kind of thinkin' is that it diverts precious resources of time and materiel. `If we can just talk to the agency that's behind the Chtorran infestation, p'haps we can work out some kind of negotiation.' Ah've even heard some people talkin' about sharing the planet with them."
"Sir-?" I started to say.
"Share!" he continued over my protestations. "Why the hell should they? They're already winnin' the whole ball game! Why should they stop to negotiate a draw?"
"Maybe they don't know we're here!" I flustered. "Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe-"
"You don't kill four billion human beings by mistake."
"We don't know that-"
The general looked astounded. "You don't think we're at war?"
"I know we're at war, sir! I just-"
"And you want to talk to the enemy?" Was he deliberately baiting me?
"Yes! I do! I want to find out who the enemy is! Maybe they're just as curious about us-"
"Y'know, that's the trouble with you-and with the rest of your so-called experts. You want to study everyfhin'. You want to question it. And you want to piss away our time! Sometimes Ah wonder just who's side you're really on-"
I stood up. "Goddammit! This may cost me my assignment-but if you're mad at someone, tell them! Not me! I just want to do the job I was trained for! The United States Army wants me to study the worms and the millipedes and the bunnydogs and all the other Chtorran creatures. Yeah, I'll admit it-I'm fascinated by them. These are the first extraterrestrial life-forms that humanity has ever encountered. But don't you go making assumptions about my loyalties, sir! That offends me. I want the Chtorrans off this planet just as much as you do-but I'm also realistic enough to recognize that might not be possible. If it isn't, I want to know how 'to survive among them. And if it is possible to neutralize the Chtorran infestation, you won't find anyone more dedicated than myself. I'll burn worms till you pry the torch out of my hands! You've got my record there on your desk-you look and see! But I can't stand people making up their minds about a subject before all the facts are in!" I added politely, "Sir!"
And sat down.
The general applauded. He grinned. "Not bad. You throw almost as good a tantrum as Ah do. You could use a little polishin' but experience will take care of that."