David Gerrold - A Matter for Men

"Maybe they can tell it's a Chtorran, and they're afraid of it even before it hatches."

"Sorry, I can't imagine these creatures passing up a free meal. There must be something about these eggs that's distasteful."

Ted blinked. "Wow! An egg with its own defense mechanism." He looked up. "What are you planning to do with them?"

"I was thinking of rigging up an incubator."

Ted whistled softly. "Jimmy, I've got to admire your . . . bravado. Or something. You're either the smartest damn fool around here-or the dumbest. It's not enough you have to rescue Chtorran eggs from the incinerator; now you want to hatch them. When Duke hears about this, he's going to have a fit."

I hadn't thought about Duke. "Why? What's wrong with the idea?"

"Oh, nothing; it's just that the purpose of this Special Forces operation is to kill worms, not breed them."

"Not entirely," I insisted. "You and I were sent up here to study the Chtorrans."

"That doesn't mean we have to make pets of them."

"And how else are we going to get close enough to study them? Do you know a better way to observe one long enough to learn anything? On a hunt, as soon as you see a worm, you burn it. No, the only way we're going to be the scientists we were sent up here to be is to put some worms in a cage and watch to see what makes them tick-and if we can't capture a live one, then we'll have to grow our own."

"Simmer down, I'm on your side. I think. It's just that I don't think the idea is going to be very popular around here; this isn't a P.O.W. camp-and that's another thing; even if you do hatch a few worms, where are you going to keep them?"

"We'll think of something," I mumbled. I was trying to think of something.

"We?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. We. Remember, you're an exobiologist too."

"Oh, yeah-I forgot." Ted looked unhappy. "But I think this is one of those times when I'd rather be a botulinus tester." He said, "I mean, raising the worms is going to be the easy part-"

"Huh?"

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Jimbo, put the bugs to bed. I'm going to talk to Duke."

"Want me to come along?"

"Uh, better not. Duke's had a ... rough day. I think I can be more tactful. You just tuck 'em in for the night and leave the rest to me."

"Well ... okay."

I left the millipedes in the mess hall for the night, with a canvas draped over the coop and a sign that said DANGER! On it. The eggs were slightly more difficult, but I borrowed Ted's electric blanket and put them in a cardboard box with it draped across the top as a makeshift incubator. To keep the eggs from drying out, I lined the box with a layer of plastic, then a layer of towels, and then sprayed it all with warm water-enough to keep the towels damp, but not soggy. It was just a guess. I'd have to work out something more permanent in the morning.

I had trouble falling asleep. I couldn't help it. Someone was screaming in my head, Shorty's dead!

I kept telling myself that I had barely known him; I shouldn't be feeling it this hard. But I hurt all over, and-oh, hell, I couldn't help it; I started crying again.

I was still awake, just lying there, aching, when Ted came in. He didn't turn on the light, just undressed in the dark and slipped into his bed as quietly as he could.

"What did Duke say?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, I didn't know you were awake."

"I'm not. Not really. What did Duke say?"

"Nothing. I didn't talk to him."

"You were gone an awfully long time."

"Yeah," he said. "I'll tell you in the morning. Maybe." He rolled over and faced the wall.

"Ted," I said, "Shorty died because I wasn't fast enough, didn't he?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "I wasn't there."

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

"Shut up, will you?"

"But-"

"It'll all be settled tomorrow. There's going to be a hearing."

"A what?"

"An inquest, stupid! An inquest. Now, go to sleep, damn you!"

THE INQUEST was held in the mess hall. Duke, Hank, Larry, two of the other men from the mission (whose names I still didn't know) and myself. Dr. Obama, doubling as medical officer, sat at the head of the table. She had a yellow, legal-sized pad of paper in front of her, covered with precise little notes. Ted sat just to her left with a transcriber terminal; his job was to answer the machine's questions about sound-alike or mumbled words. I was at the opposite end-with sweaty palms. Dr. Obama was looking very quiet and when she finally did speak, I had to strain to hear her. "All right, Duke," she said. "What happened?"

Duke told her, quickly and efficiently. He left out nothing, but neither did he waste time on elaborate descriptions. Dr. Obama showed no reaction throughout, other than an occasional nod, as if she were ticking off each of Duke's facts on a mental checklist.

"We followed procedure all the way," concluded Duke. "That's the annoying thing. If there were only something I could identify as a mistake-some error in judgment, even my own, that I could find-at least we might learn something; but I've been over this thing a hundred times, and I just don't know. We did everything by the book. . . ." He hesitated. "Maybe the book is wrong." He fell silent, spreading his battered hands out on the table before him; they had been scrubbed unnaturally clean for this hearing. "I have no explanation how we missed those worms."

Dr. Obama was thoughtful. She didn't look at Duke at all. At last, she cleared her throat slightly and murmured, "It seems we have several areas of investigation here." She shifted the pad of paper in front of her and read from it: "First, where were the Chtorrans hiding that they were undetectable to the Mobe sensors, as well as to Duke, Larry-"

Ted murmured something, his fingers suddenly moving on the terminal keyboard.

"Eh? What's that?" Dr. Obama looked annoyed.

"Last names," whispered Ted. "The record requires it." "Oh." Dr. Obama went blank for a moment, trying to backtrack her train of thought. "Uh-" She looked at her yellow pad again. "Where were the Chtorrans hiding that they were undetectable to Captain Archibald `Duke' Anderson, Lieutenant Lawrence Milburn, Corporal Carlos Ruez and Observer James McCarthy-who else was inside the hut?"

"No one," said Duke. "Just the four you listed."

Dr. Obama seemed not to hear him; she continued on to her second point, "Next. Why-and this is a very important point to consider-why did all of them miss detecting the Chtorrans? That the Mobe also missed the Chtorrans is very important. ... " She glanced at Ted. "This part is off the record, Jackson." Ted stopped, hit a button and rested his hands by the sides of the terminal. To the rest of us, Dr. Obama continued, "While I may know each of you personally and am willing to vouch for your integrity, there are those who prefer to look for scapegoats when something like this happens. In most cases, they would sooner take the word of a machine and suspect the human beings of carelessness. Machines rarely have ulterior motives. Count it as a blessing that the machine agrees with you here." She nodded at Ted, then continued with a touch more formality. "That the Mobe was unable to detect the Chtorrans confirms your story that the dome was to all appearances empty. The Mobe is supposed to be able to detect things beyond the range of normal human senses-and, vice versa, a human observer also has capabilities that the machine lacks, not the least of which is a sense of judgment. Wherever the Chtorrans were, both kinds of observation failed to detect them, indicating-as do certain other facts which we will consider-that the standard procedures do not allow for every contingency."

She referred again to her notes. "Third, the assumption was made that the Chtorrans would be torpid within their shelter. This has been the pattern in the past, but now we must ask, were they in fact within the shelter the whole time? And were they in fact in their most inactive state? It has been a general experience, not just in this area, but in other locations as well, that when worms-excuse me, Chtorrans-go inactive they do so as a group, and generally they go to the coolest part of their shelter; that is, the second level, the underground half. If they were there, the Mobe should have detected them, as should have any of the aforementioned individuals. Which brings up two more questions: What range were the Mobe's sensors set for? How were these parameters determined? On what basis? Perhaps we will have to reexamine that particular aspect of our procedure. Yes, Hank?" To Ted, "Henry Lannikin."