A Matter for Men

TWELVE

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."

Hank cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, Dr. Obama, there is a window in the sensing matrices-but it shouldn't have been big enough to let a Chtorran slip through, let alone three -I mean, four-of them. A hot Chtorran within ten meters will trigger the flash, but with a cold one-that is, one that's inactive-the Mobe has to be within four meters. Sorry, but they work so far in the infrared, they can't help but be nearsighted. The point is, if those worms were in the but, whether hot or cold, the Mobe should have flashed. The only way it could have missed cold ones, they'd have had to have been too far away-like out of the hut. And we know that wasn't the case, because we didn't see them."

"Maybe those domes are getting bigger on the inside," Larry offered.

Dr. Obama looked at him coldly. "Do you think that's possible?"

"Hell, I don't know," said Larry. "Every other one I've been into has only had two levels, top and bottom. If the worms started digging deeper than that, I didn't see 'em."

Dr. Obama considered the thought. "It isn't impossible that the wor-Chtorrans have changed their life style, but we have several other discrepancies to consider as well." She looked annoyed. "This has been a very atypical affair all around." She resumed her professional manner. "Sixth question, why was there a fourth Chtorran in the nest? Where did it come from? And why did it delay its attack? What was there different about this one that caused it to hang back for several moments? Also notice that it was the largest of the four Chtorrans encountered; significantly larger. What is the importance of that? Finally, is such an event likely to be encountered again in the future? Obviously we will have to modify our existing procedures to allow for that possibility.

"Seventh and eighth questions. What, if any, is the significance of the plant life surrounding the Chtorran shelter? We have not found such plants around the shelters in the past. Why here? Why now? Are these, in fact, specimens of native Chtorran vegetation?"

I'd transplanted all of my samples, each into its own pot. I had no idea how to handle them. Were they dangerous-or what? I wasn't even sure how to test them. Dr. Obama's questions barely scratched the surface.

She continued, "And what about the creatures observed in the Chtorran corral-those were burned as well? Ah, good. What is their place in the Chtorran ecology?" She stopped, looked around the table. "Are there any other questions that we want to consider? Yes, Duke?"

"What about Shorty?" Abruptly, my stomach dropped.

"Yes." Dr. Obama looked to her notes, but she'd already turned to a blank page. There was no answer there. "We all feel bad about that."

"That's not what I meant," said Duke, very quietly. I wondered if I was going to be sick.

"I know what you meant, Duke." Dr. Obama was every bit as quiet. "All right," she said. "Let's get it over with. Could you have saved him?"

"No," said Duke.

"Is there anyone here who could have saved Sergeant Harris?" asked Dr. Obama. She looked around the room. Larry was studying his fists; they were buried in his lap. He almost looked like he was praying. Carlos and Hank didn't say anything either; even Ted's hands were motionless on his keyboard.

"I should have been faster," I said. The words seemed unnaturally loud in the mess hall. Everyone but Dr. Obama looked at me, but having said it, I felt relieved. There, it was out. "I should have been faster, but the specimen pack was in the way. I couldn't get at my torch quick enough. If I'd been faster, maybe I could have saved him; maybe I could have gotten the worm before it-"

Dr. Obama said, "I doubt it. Sergeant Harris himself checked you out on that torch." She was still looking at her notepad. "And I approved his certification of you. Under the circumstances, that makes me equally responsible. As well as Duke."

"Thank you, ma'am. I recognize what you're trying to do-but I know that I was carrying the pack wrong."

Dr. Obama shook her head. "There's no one else who saw that. Despite your good intentions, McCarthy, I can't accept your statement as evidence."

"Excuse me," I said.

"Something else?"

"Yes," I insisted. "There is." I was suddenly aware that everyone in the room was looking at me. "I was wearing the helmet. I made a sound and video record. I-I think that there's some question here about what I did, and whether or not I-uh, acted properly. And I think that the video could clear that up. I'd like to have it shown. Please."

"I'm sorry. That's not possible."

"Huh-?"

"Duke and I tried to look at it last night. Unfortunately ... um ... the memory clip was defective."

"What?"

"The write-protect tab was out-"

"That was a brand new clip! I loaded it myself."

"-so the camera and microphone signals were not recorded. The clip was blank." She said it firmly and looked at me, as if daring me to argue with her.

"But-" I'd tested that clip myself! I saw the look on Ted's face and stopped. "Yes, ma'am."

She gestured to Ted and Ted switched off the transcriber again. She said, "Look, it's irrelevant. No matter what we decide here, it won't bring back Shorty. I promise you, he's going to stay dead. So if you're trying to justify your guilt feelings, please stop wasting our time. It doesn't produce much result."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I protested. "I understand what you're saying-but I should have done better-I mean, if only-"

"Stop!" She glared down the table at me. "Jackson, is that thing off?" He checked and nodded. "Thank you," she said. "You're not getting it. So let me give it to you another way. Listen, McCarthy, the responsibility for putting that weapon in your hands was mine-do you get that?"

I nodded.

"So if there was an error there, it's my error too. Do you get that?"

I nodded again.

"And I don't make errors. Not of this kind. You were handed that weapon because you were judged to be capable of handling the responsibility. Shorty thought so. Duke thought so. I thought so. Are you telling us now that all three of us were wrong?"

"Uh-no, but-"

"No buts about it. Either we were wrong or we were right. This thought you have that you screwed up is nothing more than an attempt to avoid the responsibility, and pass the error back up the line to the people who authorized the weapon for you. I'm sorry, but we're not accepting delivery. You took the job. You knew what was involved. You accepted the responsibility. So I don't care how you think you handled it. You handled it appropriately." She glared at me with eyes like fire. "Can you get that?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." I shoved my fists into my lap and stared at them. She didn't want to hear me.

Dr. Obama stopped and cleared her throat, coughing into her clenched fist. She took a drink of water, then looked up again without focusing on anyone in particular. She nodded to Ted. He switched the transcriber back on. "Does anyone else have anything to add?" She waited without expression. "Then I take it that all of you here are convinced that Shorty Harris's death was unavoidable. Is there anyone who disagrees? Is there anyone who disputes the validity of McCarthy's response? No one?" She looked at Duke. Duke did not meet her gaze. He seemed troubled and for a moment I thought he was going to speak; then, instead, he just shook his head.

Dr. Obama waited a moment longer, then exhaled softly. She seemed relieved. "All right, let the record show that this hearing has determined that James McCarthy acted with dispatch and fortitude. Those present at the scene confirm that McCarthy's actions were appropriate and above reproach. Furthermore, it is the opinion of this body that McCarthy's professed clumsiness is an expression only of his feeling of inexperience in combat, not negligence."

She looked around the table. Duke nodded his reluctant approval. Everyone else seemed ... deliberately nonchalant. "All right, before we adjourn is there anyone who has any information which would cast any light on any of these questions we've brought up?" She waited only a second. "I thought not. It is hereby determined that this board of inquiry is unable to reach a conclusion about the circumstances of yesterday's operation, and for all the usual reasons: we simply do not have the knowledge of the Chtorran species that we need. It is the sense of this session and the conclusion of this panel that we have only the questions and none of the answers. We therefore make no recommendations of any kind. This meeting is adjourned. File that, Jackson, and put a copy on the wire-no, let me see it before you send it out." She stood up, gathered her notepad, and nodded. "Good day, gentlemen."