"Can you pull your prowler out and double-check it?"
"That's not practical," I said. My tone was final. "Can we bring a bio-team on-line?"
"Just a moment." She sounded annoyed. She clicked away momentarily, then came back. "Stand by. We've got an officer in Oakland on duty."
"Is Dr. Zymph available? I think this is-"
"You're not being paid to think, Captain. Let us do the evaluations."
"What is that?" Willig muttered. "A mantra?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly. I put my thumb over the mike and turned to Willig. "See? I told you."
She shook her head. "More fools they." She turned back to her station.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"What is your name, please?"
"Specialist First Class, Martha Dozier. Why do you ask?"
"Just in case the next time I see Dr. Zymph she asks me who refused to forward my report, I want to be able to tell her."
"Cute," replied Specialist First Class, Martha Dozier. "But it won't work. Your job is to report. My job is to filter. My supervisor will back me up. Stand by. Oakland's coming on-line." Another new voice. Also female. Also unfamiliar. "This is Dr. Marietta Shreiber. What have you got?"
"Have you got a VR?"
"I'm linking up now. I've got your mission log downloading too. Brief me quickly."
"Large shambler grove. Over a dozen trees. Very tall. Satellite surveillance shows it hasn't moved in at least six months, but I'd guess it's been here a lot longer than that. At least eighteen to twenty-four months. Very unusual. We sent in a prowler. We took a look around the roots and found a tunnel mouth. I don't know if all the trees have tunnels under them or just this one; but I don't think it's anomalous. The roots of the tree go right down the shaft. We sent the prowler in, and it looks like the tunnel was carved by the roots. Inside, the shaft is some kind of organic structure-I don't know how to describe it; it looks like the inside of a blood vessel. There are artery-like tubes down here that have some kind of fluid in them, and they pulse with a rhythmic beat, about once every fifteen seconds. We've got a sample of the fluid, it's still in the prowler. There are other kinds of fleshy organs as well, growing out of the tunnel walls. We came to a place where some of these organs have expanded to become valves that seal the whole channel. We pressed through and found a whole series of valves. We must have gone through a couple dozen, at least. The deeper we go, the thicker the atmosphere gets; the humidity is up, the pressure is up, temperature is up, the oxygen levels are up; the gas mix is very weird, very soupy. And there's lots of funny stuff swimming in it."
"That doesn't sound like a normal worm nest, Captain."
"Listen to me. This is not a worm nest; I've been in enough nests to recognize the difference. This is something else."
"All right, wait a minute. I'm looking at your readouts now. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I see." There was a long silence, and then finally, she said, "Hmm. That's interesting-"
"What?"
"Dr. Zymph is going to want to see this. Some of it matches our predictions of what we think the atmosphere on the Chtorran home world might be."
Willig leaned over and patted me on the back. I shrugged it off. It was an obvious guess. And it could just as easily be wrong.
What if this was a womb of some kind? If that was the case, there was no reason why it would have to represent Chtorr-normal atmosphere any more than a human womb represents Earthnormal atmosphere. What if this was a specialized environment for some Chtorran purpose?
A pause. "What do you need, Captain… ?"
"McCarthy. Captain James Edward McCarthy, Special Forces Warrant Agency. Support. I need support."
"Oh. Yes, I see. Just a moment." This time the pause was much longer.
"Dr. Shreiber?"
"Yes?"
"Listen, I don't know if you recognize my name-"
"I know who you are,'" she said coldly.
"Then I'm not going to be modest. I know what I'm doing out here. I'm one of the most experienced agents in the, Special Forces."
"Yes, I know. Most of your colleagues get eaten young."
"Excuse me? I'm trying to do a job here. Why the sudden hostility?"
"I saw your performance on the news last week. Very cute. You embarrassed us all."
I sighed. "You're welcome to join me on my next mission and show me how to do it right. In the meantime, I think we have a real find here and I don't want to screw it up. I'd like some guidance on how to proceed. Are you going to support me or not?"
She didn't answer. "Dr. Shreiber?"
"Hold it," she said. "I'm on the other line." A moment later, she came back. "I'm sorry, I can't give you any backup."
"Because you disapprove of me personally?"
She hesitated. Her tone was deliberately unemotional. "I'm sorry, Captain. I can't give you any backup."
I was honestly confused. "What's going on-?"
"I'm going to break the channel now-"
"Dr. Shreiber! Scramble a private channel, right now!" I clicked over to privacy. "Are you there?"
To my surprise, she was. "Yes, Captain?"
"Give me a straight answer. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"Bullshit."
"You don't have to be rude-"
"Yes, I do. I've been on enough missions to know the protocol. Nobody ever refuses a call for assistance."
"Well, I am." There was something odd about the way she said it.
"You've been ordered not to give me backup, haven't you?" I realized it was true even as I said it.
"Don't be silly-"
"So if I file a report against you for this, you'll take full responsibility for your refusal?"
She hesitated. "You can file any report you want, Captain. I don't think either you or your reports are going to be taken very seriously. No matter how high up you go."
"I see," I said. And I did see. I wondered who was on her other line coaching her. Dannenfelser? Or one of his toadies? That was a ghastly thought. What would a Dannenfelser sycophant be like?
"I'm going to disconnect now, Captain." Her tone was so polite, it was cloying.
"Have a nice day," I replied just as sweetly, and broke the connection. I whirled to look at Willig.
Corporal Kathryn Beth Willig, a grandmother, kept her face noncommittal for all of two and a half seconds. Then she said, "Should I cross Dr. Shreiber off the Christmas-card list?"
"I am so fucking pissed-" I stopped myself. We were in the middle of a mission. Anger was not an asset here. I glanced at Willig. She looked both saddened and upset. "Sorry," I said.
She shook her head. "I see what they're doing. They're setting you up. If anything goes wrong out here, you'll take the blame alone."
"The hell with them." I thought about it for a half second longer, then made a decision. "Break the connection. Shut down all uplinks. Everything. No network contact at all. Log it as an Article Twenty-Twenty authorization. We're putting on an iron cap. If they won't assist, we'll work without them."
Willig looked at me disapprovingly.
"I mean it," I said. "If they want a copy of this mission log, they're going to have to come begging for it. I'm not releasing it until Science Section commits to full mission backups. What the hell? Somebody wants to play politics with my life? Let's open up the whole goddamn can of worms for everyone to see. I'm getting awfully tired of this bullshit."
"Are you sure?" Willig was giving me a chance to rethink the decision.
I rethought. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Makes it harder to call for help," she cautioned.
"When have I ever in my life called for help? When have I ever needed it?"