“And what action did you take?”
“Lieutenant Andrews and I recovered the injured coyote and bobcat, euthanized the badger and transported the surviving animals to the Ellsworth veterinary facility, where they were treated, Ma’am.
“Andrews!”
“Ma’am!”
“Tell me how Dietrich got into the picture.”
Andrews’ eyes have not moved from the spot on the wall above her head. “He approached the trap containing the bobcat as we were attempting to release her, Ma’am.”
“On foot or in a vehicle?”
“On foot, Ma’am.”
“Armed?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Weapon?”
”Deer rifle, Ma’am.”
“Did he threaten you or Lieutenant Rivers?
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Verbally or with the gun?”
”Both, Ma’am.”
“What did he say?”
“He told us to leave his traps the hell alone, Ma’am. He called us thieves.”
“And?”
“I said that leg-hold traps are illegal, and that we were removing the animals for treatment.”
“And?” Maggie barks. “Do I have to pry this out of you with a crowbar, Andrews?”
“No, Ma’am.” Andrews turns a florid scarlet under his freckles. “He said we were a couple of bleeding-heart candy-ass tree-hugging queers out to steal a real man’s livelihood, and we’d better get out of there before he shoved his gun—that is, Ma’am—”
Almost Maggie takes pity on him, but she cannot afford to. “Shoved his gun, Lieutenant””
“Uh, up our, uh backsides, Ma’am. And blow our lousy yellow guts to hell.” The blush deepens to crimson, spreads down the young man’s neck. “Ma’am.”
“Answer me carefully, Lieutenant. Did you see or otherwise perceive any indication that Mr. Dietrich was impaired in any way?”
“Do you mean, like was he drunk, Ma’am?”
“Was he?”
“Not that I could tell, Ma’am. He didn’t have any liquor on him, and I couldn’t smell any.”
“Rivers?”
“No, Ma’am. No smell and nothing found on him, uh—later.”
“Who shot him?” Maggie leans back on her heels, sweeping the line with her eyes.
“I did, Ma’am,” Manny answers.
“Why?”
“He threatened us with his rifle, Ma’am.”
“Before or after his verbal threat?”
“After, Ma’am. He pointed the weapon directly at Lieutenant Andrews.”
“Why did you have a gun? Did you expect to encounter someone?”
“We had two guns, Ma’am, a handgun with me and a rifle in the truck. We took them for personal safety and because we feared we might find animals who could not be helped.”
“You shot Dietrich with the handgun?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“As a direct response to a threat to the life and well-being of Lieutenant Andrews?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Are you prepared to testify to that under oath in a military court?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
”Andrews?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Finally, she turns her attention to Tacoma. “Sergeant Rivers.”
“Ma’am.”
“Really simple—what did you know, and when did you know it?”
Unlike his cousin’s, Tacoma’s eyes are cold with anger. “I knew that Lieutenants Rivers and Andrews were going out to check for other traps and other animals, Ma’am. I did not know that they had encountered anyone or that anyone had been shot until they returned.”
“But you feared something might have happened, did you not? You reacted rather strongly when you were told Lieutenant Rivers had returned, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, Ma’am. As you know, Ma’am, leg-hold traps and trapping are illegal.”
“But ingrained in the local culture?”
“In parts of it, Ma’am.”
“In the light of which—does any of you gentlemen have any idea how difficult this is going to make our relations with the locals? We have had two near riots in the last week and a half. Now two Air Force officers stationed on this Base have killed a civilian. Unfortunately, you also killed him with no other witnesses present.”
“We have a witness, Ma’am.”
That is Tacoma. Maggie turns slowly on her heel, facing him. “What? Are you telling me that there was someone else present that YOU HAVEN’T BOTHERED TO TELL ME ABOUT?” Maggie’s roar hurts her throat and threatens to shake the window pane. She hopes, very sincerely, that it hurts these three men’s ears. Andrews, she is gratified to see, actually flinches.
Tacoma continues to stare straight ahead. ‘We have the body of Igmu Tanka Kte, Ma’am. The wolf caught in the trap. Lieutenant Rivers brought it back. It’s in the freezer at the veterinary clinic.”
“And how,” she asks more quietly, “does this establish that Lieutenant Rivers fired in self-defense or the defense of Lieutenant Andrews?”
“It doesn’t, Ma’am. It does establish that Dietrich was a criminal, and an extremely vicious one. It establishes that he would have a reason to harm someone who could connect him to his criminal activity. In my opinion, Ma’am.”
“Well,” Maggie at last allows her voice to soften slightly. “It’s certainly good public relations from our perspective. Good thinking to bring back the wolf’s body.” A thought strikes her. “Does your sister know it’s in the clinic?”
“Not yet, Ma’am. The freezer is locked. There are two keys. Both are in my pocket.”
“Good. For God’s sake, don’t let her find out the hard way.”
“No, Ma’am. I won’t.”
For the first time, Maggie steps behind her desk, giving her three stiff-spined wooden soldiers room to breathe. “I am going to recommend a formal hearing, at which you will be asked to restate what you have told me here, under oath. For now—get out of my sight. And keep your goddammed noses clean. Dismissed.”
“Ma’am.”
They stiffen even further, if that is possible. Then they are gone, leaving her to write her recommendations, by hand, in triplicate. It is going to be a long afternoon.
Maggie reaches for her pen, and her bottle of aspirin, and begins.
*
Numbers. Numbers. There is some quotation from her Sunday school days that the phrase half recalls, but Kirsten cannot quite bring it to mind. Something about someone’s feast. Something about the hand writing on the wall—doom and destruction and more doom. The partial code string that she fed into the miniature transponder Dakota had carried in her raid on the birthing center seems a long-ago triumph, insignificant when laid alongside the measure of their true need.
Numbers. More numbers.
Numbered, that was it. Weighed and. . . something else. It is not just the seeming snipe hunt her quest for the code has become. Her concentration is off, her mind and body restless with thoughts she has never entertained before, her emotions a hopeless knot of desire and disbelief, She does not have time to untangle them; even if she achieved the perfect clarity of the enlightened this instant, understanding thudding its way into her head like Newton’s apple, it will not matter in the least if she cannot find a means to destroy the androids before they can destroy the remainder of humanity.
She rises, stretches and rubs at her eyes. Stiffly, because she has scarcely moved for the last two hours, she makes her way into the kitchen and sets water to boil for tea. Asi follows her hopefully, making first for his dish, and, when Kirsten fails to respond with a scoop of kibble, for the door, pawing at it gently. She hates keeping him confined, but will not let him out unsupervised. Not where there are idiots with rifles who use wolves and other creatures for target practice. “Later, boy,” she says. “I promise.”
Tea made, Kirsten drifts reluctantly back to her worktable. More than once the thought has come to her that the answer is not in the materials she has salvaged from Minot after all, that her frozen trek across the Northern Plains might as well have been cut short at Shiloh, might as well never have been ventured at all.