I locked both the safeties on and flipped the goggles of the helmet up.
Yes, the haystack had exploded.
The AM-280 was supposed to be recoilless, but it wasn't. No gun is ever completely recoilless. You have to be careful with repeating weapons because they'll "walk up" on you. That's what had happened to me here. Instead of punching a hole in the haystack, I had sliced it vertically upwards.
I flipped the goggles back down, switched off the safeties and blew up another haystack. It took three more tries before I could control the weapon well enough to just punch holes in them. The trick was to focus on the end of the beam and lean into the action of the rifle to steer it. I sliced up the last two haystacks, just to see if the rifle could be used as an axe. It could. Good.
Maybe I could even cut a Chtorran in half with it.
Except I didn't know if I was looking forward to that opportunity or not.
I went back to the car and put the gun back into the case and locked it in the trunk, the helmet too. I drove back to the barracks feeling curiously happy. As if I'd proven something to myself, although I wasn't sure what.
THIRTY-THREE
THERE WAS a box on the bed when I came in. Inside was a uniform, with appropriate insignia. Only one. There were supposed to be two. Typical army efficiency-half the job is always done on time. I took it out and looked at it. Something was giving me a vaguely uneasy feeling-and it wasn't just the aftereffects of last night's booze. I'd thrown up most of that before it had gotten into my bloodstream, and the Sober-Ups had neutralized the rest before it could do any real damage. No, this was something else, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I just knew that I wouldn't feel quite right wearing this uniform. It had come ... too easily.
Still pondering, I hung it up in the closet.
I was in the shower when Ted staggered in. He didn't even take off his clothes; he just stepped into the shower with me and held his head under the spray.
"Good morning," I said.
"Oh," he said. "Is it morning?"
"For a little while longer anyway." I pulled him away from the shower head so I could rinse off. He sagged against the wall. "What day is it?" he asked.
"Sunday."
"Of what year?"
"Same one." I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. I didn't particularly want to talk to Ted right now.
I was half-dressed when he sloshed out of the bathroom after me. "Hey, Jim-" he began.
"Eh?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't here yesterday. Or last night. Or this morning. Things just got away from me, that's all."
"Oh?"
He must have sensed my coolness. "Look, you've got to understand-I was doing it for us, trying to make some connections! And I did! I didn't even see any of the sessions yesterday."
"Oh?" Then he must have missed the scene in the conference hall. I didn't ask.
"No. I was scouting."
"I'm sure."
"Listen, it paid off! I've been offered a commission in the Telepathy Corps. I go in for my operation on Wednesday. I'll be getting one of the new multiband implants."
"Oh, terrific."
"It is, Jim!" He grabbed my shoulders. "Before the plagues, it would have taken an Act of God-or at least an Act of Congress-to get into the corps. Now they're so desperate, they're even willing to waive the psychological requirements."
"I can see that."
"No, you know what I mean."
Yes, I did. "What else did you do for us?"
"I'm sorry, Jim. I did speak up for you, but you weren't qualified. I've got the electronic-language background. And I can travel."
I pulled away from him and went to the closet.
"But listen to me-that's not all. Remember that Chtorran that we heard about, the live one that they captured?"
"Yeah ... ?"
"Well, I got to see him last night. He's amazing!"
"Oh ... ?"
"Yeah-I met that girl you were talking about, Jillanna! You were right. She's really something! That's why I wasn't here last night. I spent the night with her. She's with the project, and she got me in to see him. Really extraordinary. It was feeding time, and-"
"Ted! Stop!"
"Huh?"
"I don't want to hear about it, okay?"
He looked at me confusedly. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
He peered at me. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you upset because I didn't come looking for you so you could see it too?"
"No, I'm not."
"-because if that's what it is, Jimbo, I'm sorry, but this was an invitation only for one. If you know what I mean."
I pulled away from him and started getting dressed.
He said, "Hey-you'll get your chance. They're going to show it to the conference this afternoon! They're trucking it over to the hotel right now."
I ignored him. I opened the closet door.
"Hey!" said Ted. "Terrific! They've already delivered my uniform! Great!" I stepped back and he pulled it off its hanger. "How do I look? Lieutenant Theodore Andrew Nathaniel Jackson?"
"Uh-" I didn't say it. I closed my mouth and went back into the bathroom to get a hairbrush instead.
"Oh, come on, Jim-don't be a spoilsport! Say congratulations!"
"Congratulations."
"Like you mean it!" he wailed.
"Sorry, I can't do that. I am not going to sleep better tonight, knowing that you are helping to defend America."
"Well, then that's your problem."
"Don't slam the door on your way out," I said. He didn't.
"Shit," I said.
THIRTY-FOUR
"IS THAT thing armed?"
I looked up. The speaker was another one of those crankylooking officers I had been running into ever since getting off the chopper.
"Yes, sir. It is."
"By whose authority?"
"Special Forces."
He shook his head. "Sorry, soldier. Not here. This operation is regular army." Somehow, the way he said it, he meant the real army.
I looked at his bars. "Major," I said, "I was given orders to stand right here and wear this helmet and carry this rifle. I was told to do this because there is a large, purple and red, man-eating caterpillar in the cage under that curtain. The theory is that if that creature should somehow break loose, I'm supposed to stop it."
The major put his arm around my shoulder and led me off to a corner of the stage. The curtain was still closed. "Son-" he started to say warmly.
"Don't call me `son.' I'm an officer."
"Lieutenant," he said stiffly, "don't be an asshole. I want you off this stage-and the other jerk-off too." He pointed to the rifleman on the other side of the stage. I hadn't exchanged more than two words with him. All I knew about him was that his name was Scott and he stuttered.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can't do that."
"Listen to me, stupid. Under the terms of the conference charter, this is supposed to be an entirely civilian operation. The military is only to provide supplementary aid and keep a very low profile. I am ordering you off this stage."
"Yes, sir. Would you put that in writing, sir?"
He hesitated. Then he said, "Listen to me-the glass walls of that cage are laced with doped silicon monofibers. Do you honestly think that creature is likely to break through those panels?"
"It doesn't matter whether I think it's likely or not, sir. Would you put those orders in writing?"
"Who's your commanding officer?" he scowled.
I could have kissed him for asking. "Uncle Ira," I said.
"I see...... He said it slowly. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Those are his orders, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well"-he had to say something-"lock those safeties on. I don't want any accidents."
"Yes, sir."
"All right. Thank you. Resume your post."
I went back to the side of the cage. As soon as the major left the stage, I flicked the safeties off again.