Нил Шустерман - Shuttered Sky

Gerritson laughed. “Well, shut my mouth,” he said, slipping into a stagey southern drawl. “Guess you don’t got the plumbing, but I reckon you’ve got yourself a nice set of balls.”

Maddy laughed. “You’re wrong, you know—about me being the only woman. There are at least three Coats.”

“The Coats don’t count. They might be here with us, but they’re not on the same deep dive.”

Maddy looked Gerritson over, not quite catching his meaning. “Deep dive?”

Then Gerritson got serious. Too serious for Maddy’s taste. “This place is a submarine, Lieutenant Haas. And whether you like it or not, your reputation precedes you.”

Maddy scrubbed the toilet with a vengeance, and washed down the shower in the armored guest room that never even had a hint of soap scum. Still, she couldn’t strip away the filthy feeling she had taken with her from the cafeteria. She had stormed away from Gerritson, without giving him the satisfaction of a second glance before she banged her way through the double doors. What had he meant? She had never thought of herself as having a “reputation” among her social circle at West Point. She was attractive, she liked men, and that left her in quite a power position. She could pick and choose her liaisons, always the one to decide the length of any lover’s tenure. But a rep that followed her halfway across the country cast everything in a new light. It made her wonder if her sense of control had been nothing more than a convenient delusion.

She dined alone in her quarters, then sought Gerritson out. He, too, was alone—in the expansive complex it was hard not to be. He played pool against himself in the rec room.

“Want me to rack ’em up?” Gerritson asked. “Or did you bring your own?”

Maddy refused to take the bait. “From now on, Lieutenant Ger­ritson, I suggest we limit our conversation to topics that do not com­promise the security of this installation. Any deviation from that mandate, and I’m afraid I’ll have to report it immediately to General Bussard.”

Gerritson racked up the balls. “Are you going to break, or shall I?”

Maddy pulled a cue from the wall, refusing to back down from the challenge. She broke, and sank the number one ball. “I graduated fourth in my class at West Point. Did you know that?”

“I do now.”

“With honors, and high commendations. If that’s the reputation you were referring to, I’m glad it preceded me.”

“It’s not.”

She shot the cue ball, and sunk the number two ball, although she was aiming for the seven. “In that case, I have no idea what you were talking about.” But her lie had neither conviction nor substance, and he knew it. She shot again, nicking the cue ball. It zigged wildly, but managed to find the number three ball, which dropped cleanly into a corner pocket.

“Nice shot.”

It was, of course, luck—but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. She made a play at scanning the table for the optimum shot.

“It doesn’t matter where you aim,” Gerritson sighed, hands in his pockets. “The pattern won’t change. You’ll sink the four ball next.”

To spite him, she deliberately aimed at that pesky seven ball, only to have it ricochet away from the corner, sideswiping the fourteen, which careened into the nine, which tapped the four ball just hard enough for it to drop into a side pocket.

“See? No sense playing pool when our guest is still out of his cage,” he said. “The game just doesn’t work.” And although Maddy didn’t quite catch the meaning, it made her feel that the more balls she sank, the greater Gerritson’s victory. So the next time, she tapped the cue hall just lightly enough to move it a few inches, clattering into a cluster of balls, but without enough momentum to send them anywhere. She stood back, and let him have at the table.

“There are twenty-two men sequestered in this tomb,” Gerritson said, taking his time about shooting. “No contact with the outside world, no phone calls or visitors allowed. Morale gets low under those conditions.” He shot, and sank one of her balls. Number five. He sighed, and backed away from the table.

“Are you suggesting that I was brought here just to provide you boys with a little recreation?”

“No. You were brought here because of your qualifications. But all it takes is one man who knew you at West Point to spread rumors about your social skills. For all I know Bussard planned it that way.”

She gripped her cue, half believing she would bring it down across the top of his crew-cut head, but she restrained herself.

“And why would he do that?”

Gerritson shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe just to make things in­teresting around here, maybe to raise morale. Or maybe he’s interested in you himself.”

She dropped her cue to the table, decidedly disgusted. She was not a whore, but neither was she a saint. She had chain smoked her way through men like they were a carton of Camels—and apparently that was common knowledge. Had she been a man, her appetite and con­quests would have been lauded. But she was a woman.

“If it is intentional, I think Bussard’s way out of line,” Gerritson said, sauntering closer to her. “But the world’s not the place it was a year ago. And when things go crazy, there’s always men like Bussard who’ll take advantage of that.”

Although she was admittedly attracted to Gerritson, she knew there was more danger in it than opportunity now. She laughed bitterly. “If Bussard plans to put me on poontang duty, he’s in for a surprise. There are some parts of me the Army doesn’t own.”

“I hope that’s true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Only now did she notice how close to her he stood. Had he moved into her space, or had she stepped into his? It troubled her that she didn’t know.

She finally pushed away, gathered herself and headed for the door, but she couldn’t make herself leave. And if he stepped up to her again, what would she do? She knew what she would do. She would go to him. She would move into his arms, and if they weren’t open, she would force them open to receive her.

Gerritson kept a respectful distance now, but there was an honesty to his voice that made him feel much closer. “I’ll defend your honor here, Maddy. And anyone who wants a piece of you is going to have to go through me. Even Bussard.”

She laughed out loud, not wanting or needing his protection.

“All of us were assigned here not just for our strengths, but because of our weaknesses as well,” Gerritson said. “That’s how Bussard con­trols us. But here, within these walls, there’s a way to fix things that are broken.”

“And what’s your weakness, Gerritson? How are you ‘broken’?”

He hesitated a moment, keeping a poker face. “I’m deaf,” he said, with deadpan seriousness. “All the members of Zero Team are. Part of the requirement.”

Her initial response was more laughter, believing that this was a joke at her expense. But Gerritson wasn’t laughing.

“Last year I got too close to a land mine that wasn’t even supposed to be armed. It was the concussive shock that did it. But instead of a disability discharge, I got plucked up by Bussard for this assignment.”

Maddy found herself reviewing their conversations in her mind. There was no sign in any of them that his hearing was gone, or even diminished.

“If you’re deaf, then how did you know what I was saying when I turned my back?”

Gerritson grinned. “Careful,” he said. “All information is on a need-to-know basis. And some things Bussard doesn’t need to know.”

The events of the days that followed seared themselves into Maddy’s mind no less powerfully than war itself. But this war was a small one, contained by the thick concrete walls of the dome.