"That's not germane. I'm asking your opinion."

"I never saw a Chtorran who wanted to stop and chat first. We never had any choice but to kill them."

"How many Chtorrans have you seen?"

"Live or pictures?"

"Total."

"Um, well-I've seen the Show Low photographs-"

Fromkin nodded knowingly. "Go on."

"-and I've seen the nest I mentioned this morning. The one with the fourth Chtorran. The one I burned."

He waited expectantly. "Is that all?"

"Um-no, there was one more. The one here at the Science Center."

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me about that," he said slowly.

I shook my head. "It was just ... there."

He looked into my eyes and said, "I know about those sessions, son. Is that what you saw, one of them?"

I nodded. "There were some dogs. They fed them to the Chtorran. Live. Do you know about that?"

Fromkin said, "They say that Chtorrans won't eat dead meat -they have to eat their prey live."

"That's true. At least, as far as I know it is."

"Mm hm. And those are all the Chtorrans you've seen?"

"Yes."

"Are you an expert on Chtorrans?"

"No, of course not. But I've had more experience than most other people have had-at least those who've lived to tell about it. Some of those a.s.sholes this afternoon were talking about making friends with Chtorrans. And that's no more possible than a steak making friends with a dog-except from the inside."

"Couldn't it be that your experience with Chtorrans is limited, and that's colored your perceptions of them...?"

"You mean, maybe there are peaceful ones, but I don't know about it?"

He nodded.

I weighed the possibility. "Well, yeah-maybe there are peaceful ones. I've never heard of any. And I don't think anybody else has either-or else we'd have heard about it by now. Somebody would have said something this afternoon. Somebody would know about it, wouldn't they?"

Fromkin didn't answer.

"What's this all about, anyway?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Just for information. Raw material. You know. The truth can only be seen when looked at from many points of view at once."

I shook my head. "You're not asking for information. You're digging for something specific."

"You're too suspicious. I'm a civilian, son. Can we go on?"

"There's more?"

"Just a little. This afternoon, you stood up in front of a crowd of people and said you had to burn a man because he was being attacked by a worm."

"Yes, I did." Part of me was insisting that I put up a defensive barrier against this man's probing, but another part was insisting on telling the truth, no matter who heard it. The only way we would defeat the Chtorrans would be by telling the truth.

I added, "It was the kindest thing I could do."

"Kindest-?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "How do you know that?"

"I beg your pardon?"

His expression had turned hard. "Have you ever been on the receiving end of a flamethrower?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then where do you get your information?"

"That's what I was told by Shorty."

"Who's Shorty?"

"The man I had to burn. Sir." I said that last deliberately. Fromkin was silent for a moment at that, turning the information over to see if it was mined.

Finally he said, "I'm told-by someone who knows-that death by fire has to be the most horrible thing imaginable. When you're hit by napalm, you can feel your flesh turning into flame."

"Sir," I said stiffly, "with all due respect, when a wave of fire from a flamethrower hits you, there isn't time to feel either the heat or the pain. It's a sudden descent into unconsciousness." Fromkin looked skeptical.

"I was there, sir. I saw how quickly it happened. There wasn't any time for pain."

He studied that thought for a long moment. "How about guilt?" he asked finally. "Was there time for that?"

"Huh?"

"Do you feel guilty about what you did?"

"Guilt? I did what I had to do! What I was told to do! I never questioned it! h.e.l.l, yes, I feel guilty! And ashamed and s.h.i.tty and a thousand other things that don't have names!" Something popped for me. "What's-this all about anyway? Are you judging me too? Listen, I have enough trouble living up to my own standards-don't ask me to live up to yours! I'm sure your answers are better than mine-after all, your integrity is still unsullied by the brutal facts of practicality! You've been sitting around eating strawberries and lox! I'm the guy who had to pull the trigger! If there is a better answer, don't you think I want to know? Don't you think I have the first right to know? Come up to the hills and show me! I'd be glad to find you're right. But if you don't mind, I'll keep my torch all charged and ready-just in case you're wrong!"

He waited patiently until I ran down. And even then, he didn't answer immediately. He got up, went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He took a gla.s.s, filled it with ice and came back into the living room, slowly pouring the water over the cubes. He eased himself back down into his chair, took a drink and studied me over the gla.s.s. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and calm. "Are you through?"

"Yeah. For now."

"Good. I want to ask you some questions now. I want you to consider a couple of things. All right?"

I nodded. I folded my arms across my chest.

"Thank you. Now, tell me this. What difference does it make? Maybe it's a kindness to burn a man, maybe it isn't. Maybe he doesn't feel a thing-and maybe it's the purest form of pain, a moment of exquisite h.e.l.l. What difference does it make, Jim, if a man dies crushed in the mouth of a Chtorran or burned by napalm? He's still dead. Where does it make a difference?"

"You want me to answer?"

Fromkin said, "Go ahead. Take a crack at it."

I said, "It doesn't make a difference-not the way you ask it."

"Wrong," he said. "It does. It makes a lot of difference to the person who has to pull the trigger."

I looked at that. "I'm sorry. I don't see how."

"Good. So look at it this way. What's more important? Killing Chtorrans or saving lives?"

"I don't know."

"So? Who do I have to ask to find out?"

Huh? Whitlaw used to ask the same question. If I didn't know what I thought, who did? I said, "Saving lives."

"Good. So what do we have to do to save lives?"

I grinned. "Kill Chtorrans."

"Good. So what happens if a human being gets in the way? No, let me rephrase that. What would have happened if you had tried to save-what was his name, Shorty?"

"We'd have both bought the farm."

Fromkin nodded. "Good. So what's more important? Killing Chtorrans or saving lives?"

"In this case, killing Chtorrans."

"Uh huh. So does it matter what justification you use?"

"Huh?"

"Does it matter whether you believe that a man dies painlessly under the flame or not?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

He nodded. "So how do you feel about it now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know." I felt torn up inside. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again.

He gave me another raised eyebrow. "I don't know," I repeated.

"All right," he said. "Let me ask it this way. Would you do it again?"

"Yes." I said it without hesitation.

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. And how would you feel about it?"

I met his gaze unashamedly. "s.h.i.tty. About like I feel now. But I'd still do it. It doesn't matter what the policy is." I added, "The important thing is killing Chtorrans."

"You're really adamant about that, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

He took a long breath, then switched off his recorder. "Okay, I'm through."

"Did I pa.s.s?"

"Say again?"

"Your test-this was no interview. This was an att.i.tude check. Did I pa.s.s?"

He looked up from his recorder, straight into my eyes. "If it were an att.i.tude check, what you just asked would probably have flunked you."

"Yeah, well." My arms were still folded across my chest. "If my att.i.tude leaves something to be desired, so does the way I've been treated. So we're even."

He stood up and I stood with him. "Answer me something. Are there peaceful Chtorrans?"

He looked at me blankly. "I don't know. What do you think?" I didn't answer, just followed him to the door. He slid his card into the lock-slot and the door slid open for him. I started to follow him out, but there were two armed guards waiting in the hall.

"Sorry," said Fromkin. For the first time, he looked embarra.s.sed.

"Yeah," I said, and stepped back. The door slid shut in front of me.

THIRTY-ONE.

I STOOD there staring at that G.o.dd.a.m.ned door for thirty seconds without saying a word.

I put my hands on it and pressed. The metal was cold.