"In our lab experiments, we have been able to train worms. We have not been able to talk to them. This suggests that we are dealing with an essentially unintelligent life-form. But-the other side of that argument is that we may have been dealing with immature or feral individuals, so there is as little possibility for communication as there would be with a three-year-old baby or a wolf-boy. So-that whole area of investigation is still unresolved.
"Now, as for the bunnydogs-well, the evidence of Lieutenant McCarthy's very extensive video record is that the bunnydogs do exert considerable influence, perhaps even control, over the worms. We very much need to know the source of that relationship and if it is possible for human beings to create a similar relationship with the worms. That's our goal in communication. Lieutenant McCarthy is suggesting that the bunnies and the worms may have goals or methods of their own that could be way beyond our best ability to extrapolate, and we need to allow for that in our planning. We need to be flexible."
General Poole looked around the table. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. The rest of us waited. Finally, he returned his attention to Dr. Fletcher. "For once, you make sense," he said.
Dr. Fletcher did a better job of concealing her annoyance than I would have. She merely said, "General, it's the same thing I've been saying all along."
General Poole shook his head and looked around the table. "When Ah walked in here, Ah thought this operation was all settled and needed only a Go-date, but the more Ah let you people talk, the more I wonder."
Dr. Zylnph looked like she wanted to interrupt, but General Poole held up a hand to stop her. "No-it's mah turn now! Rank still has some privilege. You people are the most confused operation in this entire effort. Mah orders are to provide the Science Section with total support. So Ah have to give you what you need. But Ah can't work like this. You people don't know what you want. First you want military backup, then you don't. Next you'll be telling me that the lieutenant here has to dance naked with the furballs-"
"That's not a bad idea either," I said softly.
The general heard me and shot me a withering look. "Before this goes any further, Ah want to see some agreement about what you want to do and how you want to do it. Now Ah'm through listenin' to you people squabble. Ah've got some real work to do. Don't come back to me until you're sure about what you want to do. Understand? This meetin' is adjourned."
The general stood up and walked out, followed by his aides. Lizard traded glances with Danny Anderson and then the two of them followed quickly. "General Poole-" She hadn't even glanced in my direction.
Dr. Zymph looked across the table at me. "You know, Lieutenant, you're even more deadly without a gun in your hands."
Then she got up and walked out. Jerry Larson muttered something unintelligible and followed.
I looked to Dr. Fletcher. "I don't get the job, huh?"
She touched my arm again. "James-you said what had to be said. Thank you for saying it."
"But-?"
"But I think you'd better make yourself scarce. This is going to take a while."
THIRTY-EIGHT
JACK LONDON Square in Oakland was not square.
It might have been square once, but now it was a great sweeping are that encircled a sheltered lagoon. Along the shore, tall trees strung with glittering lights overlooked wide lawns bordered with pink brick paths. Beyond the lawns was a long row of elegant threestory neo-Victorian buildings. There were clusters of tiny shops and open-air restaurants, all bathed in soft gaslight.
I felt as if I'd stepped into another world, an old-fashioned fantasy of another era. It looked like a fairy tale. Everything was too beautiful. There were wide avenues for strolling couples, shaded arcades and even a summery gazebo. The only vehicles were occasional pedicabs. Silvery music-like faint fairy-bells-came drifting across the water.
I was staring at a big bronze plaque set in a concrete marker. It had a huge arrow pointing directly at the ground, and the legend above it said: "YOU ARE THERE!"
Below, in smaller letters, it said, FOR GERTRUDE STEIN.
I guessed I was going to have to have someone explain it to me. I shouldered my rifle and started walking.
The restaurant was at the end of the strand. It was called This Crystal Castle and it was a gaudy pastiche of baroque gables and cupolas, gingerbread ornaments and stained-glass windows. It shimmered in a glow of opal, gold and rose-red light. It looked dike something out of a dream. As I approached, I could hear the gentle sound of a playful string quartet. Mozart? I wasn't sure.
Inside, the lobby was done in shades of emerald and gold. It was deliberately overdone to let you know that it was elegant; but I already knew this place was expensive-it had human waiters. The maitre d' was wearing a green Doorman-of-Oz suit. He asked me to check my rifle, but I glared at him and told him I was on twenty-four-hour duty; he bowed subserviently and got out of my way. Lizard wasn't here yet, so I stepped into the bar. It was interesting the way people reacted to the red beret of the Special Forces.
The bar was subdued and suggestive. The walls were polished oak and purple velvet wallpaper. The chandeliers glowed with the soft golden color of candlelight. The mirrors behind the bar were smoky, so you couldn't see yourself drinking.
While I waited, I studied the cocktail menu. There were drinks here I'd never heard of before. What, for instance, was a Rubber Worm? Or a Leather Helper? Or a Plumber's Revenge?
My phone beeped.
I pulled it off my belt and flipped it open. "McCarthy," I said.
"Jim?" Lizard's voice.
"Hi. Where are you?"
"Stuck in a meeting, thank you." She sounded annoyed. "This is going to be resolved tonight."
"What time will you be out? I'll wait."
"No good. They're sending out for sandwiches. We'll be here for hours. Unfortunately, you've opened a real-you should pardon the expression-can of worms. We're going to have to cancel our date."
I couldn't think of a single polite thing to say. "Jim-? Are you there?"
"Uh-yes. You've just won the undying gratitude of a couple of very large lobsters."
"I'm sorry, Jim, I really am." She didn't sound sorry. "How about tomorrow night?"
"Um-no, that won't work. Listen, let me call you. All right?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
"It's not all right, is it?" she said. "I can hear it in your voice."
So I admitted the truth. "Yeah, I'm disappointed. I was really looking forward to this."
"Jim-I've gotta run now," she said quickly. "I promise you, we'll work it out. I do care." She clicked off.
I stood there marveling at my peculiar mix of feelings. I felt disappointed and wonderful at the same time. I refolded my phone and stuck it on my belt. I replayed her words over and over in my head. "I promise you, we'll work it out," she'd said. "I do care." I could feel good for a long time on those three words.
Except-what was I going to do tonight? Me and my big mouth.
I turned to the bartender and ordered a Green Slime. It was tall. It was green. It was tart. It turned my knees to jelly. I had to sit down. I wondered how many it would take to turn the rest of me into a slimy green puddle. I ordered a second one. While I waited, I looked around the bar.
The Chinese girl had shining eyes.
That's what first attracted my attention-the way she was looking at me. Then I noticed her waist. She was deliciously slender. And her hands-as delicate as orchid blossoms. Then I noticed her eyes again. She looked as if she knew something I didn't.