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"Holy shit," I whispered to myself. Then: "Siegel, take over. Willig, get me an operator. Oh hell, see if Dr. Zymph is on-line."
Within seconds, a new voice came on the cha
"Are you monitoring?"
"You've got a prowler down a hole-" Pause. "So what? It's a worm nest."
"No, it isn't. I know worm nests."
Another pause. "Looks like a nest to me. Oh, I see. You've got unidentified life forms, and-" This time the hesitation was much longer. "Is this correct? No, it can't be. You'd better pull your prowler out. Its sensors have gone dysfunctional."
"No, they're not dysfunctional." I let an edge of a
"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 a
"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 tu
"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 cha
"Dr. Shreiber! Scramble a private cha
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. Da
"I'm going to disco
"Have a nice day," I replied just as sweetly, and broke the co
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 co