"Oh!" The lockbox. "The memory clip."

Wallachstein nodded. "All that other stuff was just a cover. To tell the truth, I wish you'd left it behind."

"Huh? Why?"

"Look around-you see this city? It looks like it survived, right? Wrong. It's too big. It's not supportable. We don't have the people. It's just a matter of time until it breaks down."

"I thought the government wanted to bring the people back into the cities."

"It does. But militarily, it's not a good idea. What if we have another plague? We lose everything all over again. We can't risk it. No, we're more convinced than ever of our need to decentralize, especially our labs. I want every unit in the country to be studying the Chtorrans independently. We'll have the network fully reestablished by the end of next month, so you'll be in full communication with everyone else's work at the same time. I can offer you that. You'll be in communication with some of our best brains."

"I don't understand this," I said. "This afternoon I was nothing but a pain in the a.s.s to you. An embarra.s.sment. What changed?"

"We figured out how to make an a.s.set of a liability, that's all."

"Oh?"

He smiled gently. "You're not stupid, McCarthy. Not when you sit down with a terminal. But sometimes you don't see what's in front of your own face. I'd have thought you'd have figured it out by now."

"Well, I haven't."

"It's like this. You are uniquely valuable. You know something that n.o.body else does. You know that there are sometimes four Chtorrans in a nest."

"But n.o.body believes me."

"I do," he said. "And so do a lot of other people. Some very important people."

"Huh?"

"That memory clip. You were wearing a helmet, remember?"

It took a second for me to realize what he was talking about. "But-Obama said the clip glitched."

"She was protecting you. She didn't know if it was important or not. She couldn't a.s.sess the impact by herself. So she pa.s.sed it by a nonstandard channel. You carried it yourself."

"You've seen it-?"

He nodded. "All of us. And the inquest. It's pretty scary stuff." For a moment, I couldn't catch my breath.

"Are you all right?"

"No," I said. I looked at him. I could feel my heart pounding. "I need to know. What did that clip show? Did I ... screw up? I mean-could I have saved Shorty?"

He said it quietly. "Yes."

I felt as if I'd been slammed by a wall of guilt. I sank to the floor, to my knees. I was hurting too hard to cry. I put my hands on the rug to hold myself up. I felt like I was falling. My head was burning and I was trapped inside it. I wanted to puke. My stomach jerked and heaved. I wanted to die- I came to with my head in Wallachstein's lap, crying. He was patting my face gently with a cool, damp towel. When he saw my eyes were open, he put the towel down. He stroked my hair gently. "How are you feeling, son?"

"s.h.i.tty." The tears were still rolling down my cheeks.

"Good. That's what you should be feeling." He kept stroking my hair. I was willing to lie there and let him. It didn't seem odd at all.

"I want to go home," I said. "I want this thing over! I don't want it this way!" I was crying again. "I want my mommy to tell me everything is going to be all right again!"

"Yeah," said Wallachstein. "Me too."

And then I started laughing. It hurt too much to cry anymore. All I could do was laugh.

And cry.

And then laugh some more.

Wallachstein mopped my face with the wet towel again. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Thank you." I realized how odd this scene must look and I felt uncomfortable. I tried to get up. He pushed me back down into his lap. "Stay. I want to talk to you."

"Yes, sir." I let myself stay.

"We've known that there's been something happening with the Chtorrans for seven or eight weeks now. We started losing teams and we had no idea why-just that they'd go out to handle a nest and they wouldn't come back.

"We had some guesses but no proof, so we sent out teams with cameras and radios. We lost two of them and still didn't know any more. Your team is the first one that returned. Your clip is the answer we needed. We've already found two more huts with four Chtorrans in them. Both have been neutralized. We're already changing our procedures. You saved a lot of lives."

"I wish somebody had told me some of this before."

Wallachstein patted my forehead with the towel again. "I think you'd better review your actions since you arrived and answer that one yourself. We weren't sure what kind of bozos you and your friend were. We're still not sure about your friend, but he's keeping himself busy and out of the way, and I suppose I should be thankful for that much at least. Eventually I'll find something for him, something where he can't get into too much trouble."

I let it all sink in. It didn't change anything. "I still didn't save Shorty."

"That's right. He's still dead." Wallachstein added, "And likely to remain that way."

I sat up and looked at him. "That's pretty callous."

"I suppose it looks like that. Jim, whether you could have saved him or not, does it make a difference anymore?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Good. Real good," he said. "Fromkin was right about you."

"Fromkin?"

"What do you think that interview was about? I wanted to know what your feelings were about killing Chtorrans, and how candid I could be with you."

"What did he say?"

"He said I should tell you the whole truth and nothing but. He said you'd be difficult about it too."

"Am I?"

"Yep." He grinned. "Now, do you want the job?"

"I don't know. I'll still be on the front lines, won't I?"

"There's a commission involved."

"How high?"

"Second lieutenant."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I were. But only officers can be cleared for Chtorran security. So if we want to add a member to the team, we have to make him an officer."

"Can't I stay 'Civilian Personnel, Attached'?"

He shook his head. "No nonmilitary personnel are going to be allowed access to the Control Arm's operations. So what's your choice?"

"Can I have some time to think it over?"

"I need your answer tonight. That's why we were late getting back to you. We had some decisions to make. Some of them were triggered by the events this afternoon. And you're a part of those decisions too. I had to twist some arms to bring you aboard. Now, either take it or leave it."

"What if I leave it? Then what?"

"I don't know. We'll find something to do with you. I promise, you won't like it."

"So I don't really have a choice, do I?"

He looked annoyed and apologetic, both at once. "Son, I don't have time to play games. There's a war on. Do you want to be a part of it or not?"

I looked into his face. "Yes, I do-it's just that I'm not used to straight answers, so you'll understand if I'm a little skeptical." He didn't answer that.

He said, "You'll take the job?"

"Will you make me a first lieutenant?"

He blinked. Then he laughed. "Don't push too hard. I'll go for first. I won't go as high as captain." He looked around. "Did you throw the Bible out too? No-there it is. Stand up. Raise your right hand. Repeat after me-"

THIRTY-TWO.

I ENDED up with a rifle in my hands and a feeling of dejd vu. The rifle was an AM-280 with tunable laser sight. The output was set high in the UV and I had to wear an EV-helmet with retinal-focused eyepieces to see the beam. It spat high-velocity bursts of eighteen-grain needles, as many as three thousand per second. You pointed the beam at your target and pulled the trigger. The needle bursts would tear holes in a steel door. They said you could slice a man in half with a 280. I didn't want to try. I hefted the rifle and looked at it. I had a sour feeling in my stomach. I'd trusted Duke and Obama and ended up with a torch in my hands and Shorty on the receiving end. It'd left me with a bad feeling about weapons. I could admire the technology here. It was the use which bothered me.

The lieutenant slid two boxes across the counter toward me. "Sign here that you've received the rifle and ammo."

I held up a finger. "Wait a minute. Who's supposed to check me out on this?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"Then I'm not signing for it."

"Have it your own way." He shrugged and started to turn away.

"Hold it. Is that phone secure?"

"You can't use it."

"Slide it over here. This is company business."

He started to say something else, then thought better of it. He pushed the phone at me. I slid my card into it and punched the number Wallachstein had given me.

The line beeped as it switched to code mode and Wallachstein came on the line, "Joe's Deli. Joe ain't here."

"Uncle Ira?"

"Speaking."

"I've got a problem."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm not taking this weapon."

"Why not?"

"n.o.body seems to know who's responsible for checking me out on it."

"Don't worry about it-"

"I am worried about it."

"-you're not going to have to use it. It's for show."

"I'm sorry, sir, but that's not good enough."

"Look, son, I don't have anyone free to check you out on that piece before this afternoon. All I want you to do is stand there and look like a soldier. I'll see that you have a thorough course of instruction in it before the week is out."

I started to protest. Instead, I said, "May I have that in writing, sir?"

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then he said slowly, "What's the matter, son?"

"Nothing, sir. But it's like I told you last night. I'm not taking anybody's word for anything anymore."

He sighed. I could almost see the expression on his face. I wondered if I'd overstepped myself. He said, "I'll put it in your file. You can check it yourself this afternoon."