"Do you know what's going on?" I accosted her. I jerked a thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the slimeball. "This little creep says I've been replaced."
She looked past my shoulder at Dannenfelser. "You couldn't wait to let me tell him, could you?" She glanced at the receipt in my hand. "Sign it, Jim." Her voice was no-nonsense grim. I signed the slip quickly and handed it nastily across. Dannenfelser pranced away; I turned back to Lizard.
"Don't say a word, " she mouthed. In a more conversational tone, she added, "I want you to meet the new science officer, Dwan Grodin."
For the first time I noticed that Lizard wasn't alone. The person behind her was-a thing. She was a lumpy blonde potato with bad skin and a vacuous grin. She had irregular wide-set blue eyes, blubbery thick lips, a lopsided scar on her upper lip showing where her cleft palate had been badly repaired, and a flat forehead distorting the already unnatural aspect of her thumb-shaped head. Her hair was so short, it was almost a buzz-cut; and surrounding her entire brain case, she wore a shining cage of wire, a framework of thick rods like a bicycle helmet. I'd seen pictures of cerebral augments; I'd never seen one in person. I realized I was staring.
"Hi, Shim-" Dwan said. She waved a stumpy hand at me. Her voice was a thick whistle; her teeth were clumped unevenly, and she sprayed spittle when she spoke. She grabbed my hand and shook it for a painfully long moment. Her palms were warm and clammy. I wanted to pull my hand back and wipe it off. I looked to Lizard, askance.
"Dwan is plugged into all six public data networks, three military nets, and both of the infestation colloquia," Lizard explained. "As good as you are, Jim, it was felt that Dwan had certain capabilities that made her more appropriate to this operation." From her tone of voice, I could tell that she was repeating someone else's arguments, General Wainright's probably-or Dannenfelser's. It didn't matter.
"So I'm off the mission?"
"If you request it, I'll sign your transfer. I'm hoping you'll stay." Her eyes were expressionless. Sometimes I couldn't tell what Lizard was thinking. This was one of those moments. I felt abandoned.
"In what capacity?" I asked slowly.
"As Dwan's assistant."
I looked back to Dwan. She looked happy to be here. Hell, she was probably happy to be anywhere. Every Down's syndrome I'd ever met had been unfailingly good-natured. "I've n-never had an assistant b-b-before," she said thickly. She formed her words slowly, almost painfully. "If I m-make any m-m-mistakes, I hope you'll h-help me."
Oh, great.
My reaction must have shown. "I'm not's-stupid," she said. "You don't have to worry about that." She tapped the helmet of rods surrounding her head. "I've got a c-c-class-nine memory, and a f-full-spectrum m-m-multi-processor. I once p-p-played three grand m-masters blindfolded and beat them all. I can do the job. I know more about the Chtorran infestation than anybody else on the p-planet. Even you. I know all about you. You're James Edward M-McCarthy. I have all your reports in my head. You're very s-smart. I hope you'll work with me. Some people are uncomfortable w-working with m-m-me because I have Down's syndrome, and b-because I have these augments; they don't know whether to treat me as if I'm smarter or dumber, or both; b-but I don't think you have that kind of p-prejudice. I think you'll treat me just like a p-person, won't you?"
"Uh-" I finally extracted my hand from her wet sausagey grip. "You'll have to excuse me. I-" Looked to Lizard; she was frowning. "I don't know what to say."
"J-just say yes, you'll stay on the m-m-mission. P-please?"
Lizard nodded almost imperceptibly. She wanted me to stay too. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."
I knew what I wanted to do; head for the door and not look back. This was a deliberately calculated embarrassment, a punishment.
General Wainright must have laughed himself silly over this one; I could almost hear him saying, "We'll show that damn Yankee jewboy faggot. If he wants to stay on the mission, he can suck a retard's ass. Ha! He'll be too fucking proud to stay on. And if he tries to quit, his mama will come down on him like a ton of lizard-shit. Yeah, do it, Dannenfelser. McCarthy thinks he's an expert on revenge? Wait. I'll show him how vindictive I can be. He wants to play games? I'll give him games."
And I already knew what Lizard would say. "I know it hurts, Jim, but I need you. The mission needs you. Show them you're bigger than this. Don't quit. That's exactly what they want you to do. It'll go on your record, and they'll use it to demonstrate that you're not a team player. Don't let your anger show-"
Right. Put a cork in a volcano.
Grodin was saying something. She giggled ernbarrassedly. "They d-d-didn't tell m-me you were so handsome." She was actually blushing.
"Uh-" Oh God. Why me? "Look, um-it's not your fault, but I'm a little upset about something right now. Would you excuse me please?" I looked to Lizard and shook my head helplessly. It was time for a walk around the block. Only I didn't think I could find a block big enough to burn off this rage and confusion.
Lizard followed me out into the corridor. A few secretaries and aides were visible, but none were within hearing distance. "Jim-" she began.
I held up a hand. "Don't say it. I know. You did your best, but for political reasons, etcetera, etcetera, you had no choice. You could have won on this issue, you could have gone to the President, but then you would have used up all your favors and you wouldn't have any clout for the next thing where you might really need it. We have to know which battles are worth fighting for, right? Am I right?"
Her expression told me I was. I felt betrayed. I could feel the rage rising inside me like a nascent upwelling of magma.
I started slowly. "I busted my ass on those briefing books so that everybody involved will be fully prepared. I can't begin to tell you how badly it hurts to get kicked off like this. It really pisses me off. I want to hurt them back. I want to kill something. They have no right-"
I stopped to catch my breath; I held up a finger to indicate I wasn't through yet. I started again, this time in an even quieter tone. "I suppose I could say that this is very petty of them, but you could just as easily say that what I did to Major Bellus was even more petty, so maybe this is fair. But it doesn't lessen the hurt. If what I did was right, you should have protected me-not played another round of politics as usual. Nothing you can say or do can take the sting out of that.
"So, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going home and I'm going to thaw out one of those very expensive steaks we were saving for a special occasion; I'm going to sear it with a blowtorch till it's just the way I like it; raw on the inside, burned on the outside. I'm going to sit on the balcony with that steak and a tall cold beer and I'm going to watch the sun set. It'll be symbolic, watching the sun set on the planet Earth. I'm going to see how many beers I can drink and how long it takes to stop caring. If I have to, why I'll even let myself be pissed as hell. I'll be honestly angry for a while instead of 'processing it out.' And I'm going to do it alone. I'm going to enjoy being by myself with no one else around me to tell me what I should or shouldn't do or how I should do it or why. I'm through being used. I'm through being manipulated. I'm through. I've had it. I risk my butt out there in the field-do I get thanked? Do I get rewarded for being an expert? No, I get punished for being right.
"I don't care how many megabytes and megahertz Ms. Grodin is packing upstairs; I've got something that she doesn't have; something that's a thousand times more valuable. I have field experience. I know the context of the infestation because I've lived it. I wish you luck in Brazil, sweetheart. You're going to need it. You're going to need a lot more than luck, because I won't be there to protect you. I love you, but I don't think any of you are coming back. I think General Wainright's little stunt is a death sentence."