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Authors: Patricia Anthony
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expecting a salute. “Hi, Rita,” he said. “It’s late.”
She grunted in reply, her mind still on the slides. Martinez slumped down in one of the hard-backed, vinyl covered chairs. “You’ve found that the cellular structure of the hole in the chest is undamaged,” he said.
She stared at the slides in idiotic disbelief. The hour was so late and she was so tired that she wondered for a moment if she had already told him. They might have had an entire conversation she’d forgotten.
“There have been other injuries like that,” he explained.
“We had another pathologist studying them, too.”
“Other injuries?” she asked, bringing her head up so quickly that her vision swam. “What caused this?”
Martinez’s Aztec features creased into an embarrassed half-smile. Hispanic, but he was at least three shades darker than she was. “Aliens,” he said.
Had she not seen the seriousness in his eyes, she might have laughed.
“Look,” he told her, “I know you’re not much of a soldier. None of our Reserve or Guard doctors are. You people don’t take orders well.” He laughed.
“But aliens?” she asked, grinning. He was an affable sort, the lieutenant colonel. He’d had to adapt to a bunch of subordinates who habitually reminded him, in subtle or not-so-subtle ways, that they were not only better educated than he but better paid. There were times Rita felt sorry for him.
“Aliens. I’m sending you to Lerida to study them.”
She blinked, thinking at first that she hadn’t understood him or that he was talking about some other Lerida, one in Portugal or northern France. “The Lerida near the Pyrenees?”
“That’s right. General Lauterbach wants a pathologist to view the bodies in situ. I’ve assigned you a platoon and given you a veteran lieutenant, Helen Dix, Look, Rita, I know you’ll take this the right way: Don’t pull rank on her. If Dix gives you a suggestion, don’t stop and ask why. Don’t argue with her as you do with me. There won’t be time for that.” His broad-cheeked face was pulled down in sympathetic lines.
“God almighty, colonel! They’re shooting people out there!” Fear made her tone harsher than she’d intended, and Martinez paled. She felt an immediate regret. Throughout her life the lash of her tongue had driven away those she cared for.
“You’ll be under fire at times, yes,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm and soothing, the way doctors did when giving a patient bad news. “But Dix is a superb field lieutenant. Keep your head down, and she’ll get you out of trouble.”
Rita took a calming breath to keep from offending the likable Martinez again. But she was angry, angrier at the Army bureaucracy than she had ever been at the enemy. “Surely you have somebody in the regulars to send.”
He patted the air with his hand—a suggestion, not an order—to keep her protests in check. “It wasn’t my decision. It was General Lauterbach’s. He likes you. He has confidence in you.”
She jerked her head away and glared at the microscope.
“If he likes me so much,” she said, “why is he sending me out to die?”
THE PYRENEES
Gordon had driven the CRAV far. The Arab Hind searching for him was a couple of miles back. He could hear its motor noise, a distant grumble on the night wind. His rear engine compartment blanketed by mud to escape infrared, Gordon took a short break.
He dozed with his eyes open, a trick that CRAV operators learned quickly. Close your eyes for more than thirty seconds, and the robot would shut itself off.
Gordon was in a half-sleep now. The liquid sound of the stream was lulling. His night vision had automatically cut in as the sun set, and the boulders on the other side of the stream were fuzzy greenish lumps.
A bird roused him from sleep by its sharp, startling shriek. A few minutes later, a deer came down to drink, and Gordon moved his head to watch it. After the deer left, a misty rain began to fall.
When he
She grunted in reply, her mind still on the slides. Martinez slumped down in one of the hard-backed, vinyl covered chairs. “You’ve found that the cellular structure of the hole in the chest is undamaged,” he said.
She stared at the slides in idiotic disbelief. The hour was so late and she was so tired that she wondered for a moment if she had already told him. They might have had an entire conversation she’d forgotten.
“There have been other injuries like that,” he explained.
“We had another pathologist studying them, too.”
“Other injuries?” she asked, bringing her head up so quickly that her vision swam. “What caused this?”
Martinez’s Aztec features creased into an embarrassed half-smile. Hispanic, but he was at least three shades darker than she was. “Aliens,” he said.
Had she not seen the seriousness in his eyes, she might have laughed.
“Look,” he told her, “I know you’re not much of a soldier. None of our Reserve or Guard doctors are. You people don’t take orders well.” He laughed.
“But aliens?” she asked, grinning. He was an affable sort, the lieutenant colonel. He’d had to adapt to a bunch of subordinates who habitually reminded him, in subtle or not-so-subtle ways, that they were not only better educated than he but better paid. There were times Rita felt sorry for him.
“Aliens. I’m sending you to Lerida to study them.”
She blinked, thinking at first that she hadn’t understood him or that he was talking about some other Lerida, one in Portugal or northern France. “The Lerida near the Pyrenees?”
“That’s right. General Lauterbach wants a pathologist to view the bodies in situ. I’ve assigned you a platoon and given you a veteran lieutenant, Helen Dix, Look, Rita, I know you’ll take this the right way: Don’t pull rank on her. If Dix gives you a suggestion, don’t stop and ask why. Don’t argue with her as you do with me. There won’t be time for that.” His broad-cheeked face was pulled down in sympathetic lines.
“God almighty, colonel! They’re shooting people out there!” Fear made her tone harsher than she’d intended, and Martinez paled. She felt an immediate regret. Throughout her life the lash of her tongue had driven away those she cared for.
“You’ll be under fire at times, yes,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm and soothing, the way doctors did when giving a patient bad news. “But Dix is a superb field lieutenant. Keep your head down, and she’ll get you out of trouble.”
Rita took a calming breath to keep from offending the likable Martinez again. But she was angry, angrier at the Army bureaucracy than she had ever been at the enemy. “Surely you have somebody in the regulars to send.”
He patted the air with his hand—a suggestion, not an order—to keep her protests in check. “It wasn’t my decision. It was General Lauterbach’s. He likes you. He has confidence in you.”
She jerked her head away and glared at the microscope.
“If he likes me so much,” she said, “why is he sending me out to die?”
THE PYRENEES
Gordon had driven the CRAV far. The Arab Hind searching for him was a couple of miles back. He could hear its motor noise, a distant grumble on the night wind. His rear engine compartment blanketed by mud to escape infrared, Gordon took a short break.
He dozed with his eyes open, a trick that CRAV operators learned quickly. Close your eyes for more than thirty seconds, and the robot would shut itself off.
Gordon was in a half-sleep now. The liquid sound of the stream was lulling. His night vision had automatically cut in as the sun set, and the boulders on the other side of the stream were fuzzy greenish lumps.
A bird roused him from sleep by its sharp, startling shriek. A few minutes later, a deer came down to drink, and Gordon moved his head to watch it. After the deer left, a misty rain began to fall.
When he
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