A Matter for Men

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIS TIME, when I awoke, it was daylight.

And the Very Reverend Honorable Dr. Daniel Joseph Fromkin was sitting quietly in a chair studying me.

I raised my head and looked at him. He nodded. I looked around the room. The blinds were drawn, and afternoon sunlight filtered through the narrow vertical slats. Dust motes danced in the beams.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday," he said. He was wearing a muted coppery-gold suit -almost, but not quite, a uniform. Where had I seen-oh, I got it. Mode. He was a Modie.

"I didn't know that," I said.

He saw that my glance was on his tunic. He nodded an acknowledgment and asked, "How are you feeling?"

I looked. I wasn't feeling anything. "Empty," I said. I wondered if I was still under the influence of the drug. Or its after effects.

"Anything else?" asked Fromkin.

"Naked. As if I've been stripped and held up for display. I have memories that I'm not sure actually happened or if I just dreamed them."

"Uh huh," he said. "Anything else?"

"Angry. I think."

"Good. Anything else?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Great." He said, "I'm here to debrief you. Are you up to it?" He looked at me expectantly.

"No."

"Fine." He rose to leave.

"Wait a minute."

"Yes?"

"I'll talk. I have some questions of my own." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh?"

"Will you answer them?"

He said, "Yes. As a matter of fact, I am authorized to answer your questions."

"Honestly?"

He nodded his head slowly. "If I can."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'll tell you the truth as I know it. Is that all right?"

"It'll have to do."

He looked impatient. "What's the question?"

"All right. Why was I set up to be killed?"

Fromkin sat down again. He looked at me. "Were you?"

"You know I was! That Chtorran was supposed to get me too. That's why I was assigned there-so when the glass broke, I'd be the first. I wasn't supposed to have a working weapon, was I? Except I took the manual and went out to the range and familiarized myself with the gun. So it didn't work, did it?"

Fromkin looked unhappy-not pained, just sad. He said, "Yes. That was the expectation."

"You didn't answer the question."

"I will. Let's hear the rest."

"All right. Why was the Chtorran supposed to break out? I saw Dr. Zymph check the case with an aide. They weren't checking to see if it was safe. They were checking to make sure it would break at the right moment. When the Chtorran put its weight on it. Right?"

Fromkin said, "That's what you saw?"

I nodded. "All those people were supposed to die, weren't they?"

Fromkin looked at the ceiling for a moment. Composing his answer? He looked back at me. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Why?"

"You already know the answer, Jim."

"No, I don't."

"Go over it again. Why do you think the attack was set up?"

"After the fact, it's pretty obvious. Most of those people disagreed with the United States position on the Chtorran threat, so you invited them to a first-hand look at how one feeds. That's the guaranteed shock treatment. It always works. It worked on me, and all I had seen were the Show Low pictures. These people got the special live performance. It was set up so that none of our people were killed or injured, only those who opposed us." I studied his face. His eyes were shaded. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Pretty much," Fromkin said. "You're only missing the context."

"The context? Or the justification?"

Fromkin ignored my jibe. "You saw how the convention was progressing. Can you give me a better alternative?"

"Have you tried education?"

"Yes! Do you know how long it takes to teach a politician something? Three elections! We don't have the time! We have to make our point today. "

I must have been frowning, for he said, "You heard those delegates. They were running everything they saw and heard through the filter that the United States was using the Chtorran menace as an excuse to exploit the rest of the world again."

"Well? Isn't that true?"

Fromkin shrugged. "Frankly, it's irrelevant. The war against the Chtorr is going to last anywhere from fifty to three hundred years-if we win. That's our window for a best-case approximation.

"And? What's the worst case?"

"We could all be dead within ten years." He said it dispassionately, but the words came out like bullets. "The situation calls for extraordinary crisis-management skills. It demands the kind of unified effort that this planet has never seen. We need a controlling body that can function free of the usual inertia common to an accountable government."

"You're advocating a dictatorship?"

"Not hardly. I'm advocating universal military service for every man, woman, child, robot, dog and computer on the planet. That's all." He allowed himself a wry smile. "That's hardly a dictatorship, now, is it?"

I didn't answer. He stood up and went to the window and looked out. "The irony of the situation," he said, "is that the only surviving institutions who have the resources to handle the situation are the very ones least able to apply those resources-the world's great technological nations. The conference is dominated by Fourth Worlders who are still in a pre-Chtorran consciousness-you know the one: `They've got theirs, now I'm going to get mine.' And they're not going to let us play any other game while they still see themselves as not being equal partners. And the fact of the matter is, they're already equal partners. The Chtorrans find them just as tasty-they don't care!"

Fromkin turned to face me. He came back to the chair, but didn't sit down. "Jim, every day that passes without a program of unified resistance to the Chtorran invasion pushes the window of possible victory two weeks farther away. We're rapidly approaching the point where the window becomes totally unattainable. We don't have any time. They've taken the position that the United States is their enemy, one who will use any devious means to exploit them. They don't dare give up that position, because giving it up looks exactly like admitting they've been wrong. And that's the hardest thing in the world for a human being to dobe wrong. Do you know that people would rather die than be wrong?"

I saw the Chtorran pouring itself off the stage again. I heard the screams of terror. I smelled the blood. Those people died because they were wrong? I looked into Fromkin's face. His expression was intense. His eyes were hurting.

I knew it wasn't true even as I said it, but I had to say it. "So they're wrong-and you're right?"

Fromkin shook his head. "We did what we had to do, Jim, and the only way to explain it is so unsatisfactory that I don't even want to try."

I thought about it. "Try me anyway," I said.

He looked unhappy about it. "All right, but you won't like it. This is a different game-with different rules, one of the most important of them being `All previous games are no longer valid.' And anyone who keeps trying to play the old game in the middle of the new is in the way. Got that? So we put all of our biggest problems in the front rows. We didn't like it, but it was necessary.

"You're right. I don't like it."

He nodded. "I told you that you wouldn't." He continued, "But, Jim-every single one of those survivors has now experienced the war at close range. It is no longer just another political position. It's a bloody scar on the soul. The people who came out of that auditorium know who their enemy is now. What you saw-what you participated in-was a very necessary piece of shock treatment to the community of world governments."

He sat down again, leaned forward and put his hand on my arm. "We didn't want to do this, Jim. In fact, as of last week, we had decided not to. We were hoping then that the facts alone would be enough to convince the delegates. We were wrong. The facts aren't enough. You demonstrated that when you stood up in front of the entire conference. You demonstrated to us just how completely crystalized the Fourth World position was."

"Oh, sure-that's right," I said. "Blame it on me now!"

Fromkin leaned forward and said intensely, "Jim, shut up and listen. Stop showing off your stupidity. Do you know what you've given us? The lever with which to engineer a massive realignment of political intention. The tapes of the conference have been released to the public channels. The whole world has seen that Chtorran attacking a roomful of their highest leaders. The whole world has seen you bring that Chtorran down. Do you know you're a hero?"

"Oh, shit."

Fromkin nodded, "I agree. You're not the one we would have chosen at all, but you're the one we got, so we just have to make the best of you. Listen, the public is alarmed now-we need that. We didn't have it before. It makes a difference. We're seeing some very powerful people suddenly declaring their intentions to martial every resource necessary to resist the Chtorran invasion."

I leaned back in the bed and folded my arms across my chest. "So the United States wins after all, right?"

Fromkin shook his head. "That's the joke, son. There may not even be a United States when this war is over-even if we win. Whatever is necessary for the human species to defeat the Chtorrans is of such overriding importance that the survival of any nation, as a nation, becomes a minor matter. Every single one of us committed to this war knows that the survival of anything is of secondary importance when weighed against the survival of the species. Period."

He leaned back in his chair again. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. And then I thought of something. "I can see that's your position. Now, what was the justification for including me? Remember, I was supposed to get killed there too-not be a hero."

Fromkin did not look embarrassed. He said, "That's right. And you weren't supposed to be rescued either. That nurse, Dinnie-she can be a perfect pain in the ass sometimes-she saved your life. She disabled two of our marines when they tried to pull her away."

"They were going to kill me?"

"Uh, not exactly. It just seemed, ah, politic not to rush to your aid. But nobody told her that. When they tried to pull her away, she crippled them. Broke one fellow's kneecap, the other one's collarbone, arm and sternum. She stayed with you the whole time, wouldn't let anybody near you unless she knew them personally."

"And what happened in the operating room?"

Fromkin looked startled. "You know about that too?" I nodded.

"A senior officer suggested that your treatment be ... postponed. She invited him to leave the operating theater. He refused. She gave him a choice. Under his own power or otherwise. If otherwise, she guaranteed he wouldn't like it. She was right. He didn't like it. She's under arrest now-"

"Huh?"

"Protective custody. Until some things get sorted out. I promise you, she'll be all right. But you and I need to have this little chat first."

Something occurred to me then. "Why you and I? Where's Uncle Ira? Shouldn't he and I be having this conversation?" Fromkin hesitated. "I'm sorry. Colonel Wallachstein is dead. He didn't get out of the auditorium in time." There was pain in his face.

"No-!" I cried. "I can't believe that!" I felt like I'd been slammed in the chest with a brick

"He pushed three people out ahead of him," said Fromkin. "I was one of them. He went back for someone else. I waited for him at the door. He never came out."

"I-I don't know what to say. I hardly knew him. I don't know if I liked him-but I respected him."

Fromkin waved it away. "He respected you for killing that fourth Chtorran. He told me so. In fact, he authorized your bounty check Sunday morning, just before the session."

"Bounty check?"

"Don't you know? There's a one-million-casey bounty for every Chtorran you kill. Ten million if you capture one alive. You're a millionaire now. Twice over. I'll authorize your second check. I'm taking over certain responsibilities for the Agency. That's why you and. I are having this chat."

"Oh. Are you my superior officer now?"

"Let's just say I'm your, ah, liaison."

"With who?"

"You don't need to know their names. They're the people who worked with Uncle Ira."

"The same people who decided I should be killed?"

Fromkin exhaled in quiet annoyance. He folded his hands into his lap and collected himself. He looked me in the eye and said, "You need to understand something about that. Yes, you were supposed to die. The people you work for made that decision."

"Nice people," I said.

"You'd be surprised."

"I'm sorry, they don't sound like the kind of people I want to work for. I may be an asshole, but I'm not a stupid one."

"That remains to be seen." Fromkin went on quietly, "Until Sunday afternoon, as far as anyone could tell, you were a liability. Nobody figured on you bringing that Chtorran down. I admit it, I'm still surprised-but when you did that, you stopped being a liability and started being a hero. You're an asset now, son. Sunday's pictures demonstrate that a human being can stop a Chtorran. The world needs to know that. You've become a very useful tool. We want to use you-if you're willing to be used. The earlier decision is inoperative now. You can thank Dinnie for that. She bought you enough time so we could come to that realization. Hm," he added. "We may have to recruit her."

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or angry. I said, "That's all I am? A tool? You can tell them I'm grateful. I hope I can do the same for them sometime."

Fromkin caught my sarcasm. He nodded in annoyance. "Right. You'd rather be right. You'd rather exercise your righteousness."

"I'm angry!" I shouted. "It's my life we're talking about! That may not mean much to you, but being eaten by a Chtorran could ruin my whole day!"

"You have every right to be angry," Fromkin said calmly. "In fact, I'd worry about you if you weren't, but the thing you need to get is that it's irrelevant. Your anger is your business. It means nothing to me. So handle it so you can get on with your job." "I'm not sure I want the job."

"You want to kill Chtorrans?"

"Yes! I want to kill Chtorrans!"

"Good! We want you to kill Chtorrans too!"

"But I want to trust the people behind me!"

"Jim, stop taking it personally! Any of us-all of us-are expendable, if it will bring the rest of us closer to the goal of stopping the infestation. Right now, our problem is the resistance of every person who doesn't see that the Chtorran problem is the overriding one-especially those who are entrusted with the responsibility for handling this circumstance. They're in the way. If they're in the way, they have to be moved out of the way. So don't get in the way. And if you do, don't take it personally."

"I think that makes it even more horrifying," I said. "The sheer callousness of it."

Fromkin was unimpressed. "Oh, I see-your ideals are more important than winning the war. That's too bad. Do you know what a Chtorran calls an idealist? Lunch."

I glanced at his uniform. "Is that an enlightened position?"

"Yes," he said. "It is." He didn't expand on it.

I said, "You still haven't answered my question."

"Sorry. Which one?"

"What was the justification for wanting me dead too?"

Fromkin shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You looked like a liability, that's all. I told you, don't take it personally."

"Is that it?"

"Uh huh." He nodded.

"You mean it was just calmly decided-just like that?"

"Yep."

I couldn't believe it. I began to splutter at him. "You mean to tell me that you-and Colonel Wallachstein-and Major Tirelli-just calmly sat around and decided my death?"

He waited till I ran down. It was a long wait. Then he said, "Yes -that's exactly how it happened. Calmly and unemotionally." He met my furious stare with an unashamed expression. "In the same way that we calmly and unemotionally decided to turn the Chtorran loose on a roomful of our colleagues. In the same way that Duke calmly and unemotionally decided to handle that little girl in the brown dress. Yes, I know about that too." He added, "And in the same way that you calmly and unemotionally decided to handle Shorty and that fourth Chtorran. There's no difference, Jim. We just left out some of the hysteria and drama. But otherwise, there's no difference, Jim, in what we did and what you did.

"You accepted the responsibility when you accepted that flamethrower in the first place. The truth is, the things we did that you don't like are really the things you did that you don't like. Right?"

I had to admit it.

I nodded. Reluctantly.

"Right. So give the people around you a break. It isn't any easier over here. We just don't have to be drama queens about it. So you can spare me your goddamned self-righteousness! If I want to be beaten up, I can do it far better than you can! In fact, I already have. I know the arguments-better than you, probably! You think I haven't gone around this bush myself a few times?"

"I hear you," I said. "It's just-I hate the way I've been treated."

"I got it," Fromkin said. "And that's understandable. The fact of the matter is, the agency owes you several dozen apologies-we owe you more than we can ever repay. But would it make a bit of difference? Or would it use up time we need for more immediate problems?"

I stopped the anger I was building up long enough to look at his question. No, it wouldn't make a bit of difference. I looked at him again. "No, it wouldn't."

"Right. What we did was wrong. You know it. We know it. We thought it was necessary-and the fact of the matter is that we never expected to have this conversation. But now we've got it and it's my responsibility to clean up the mess-so consider it an acknowledgment of the contribution that you've made that I'm taking the time. So pay attention. I have a job for you."

"Huh?" I sat up straighter in bed. "That's it? That's how you say thank you?"

"That's right. That's how we say thank you. We give you another job."

"Most people at least say, `Attaboy. You done good.' "

"Oh," said Fromkin. "You want me to pat your fanny and blow in your ear first, is that it?"

"Well, no, but-"

"-But, yes. Listen, I don't have time to waste telling you how wonderful you are-because you won't believe it anyway. If you need to be reminded, then you've got a question about it, don't you? So I'm going to give you the short cut to wonderfulness, so you'll never have to worry about that one again. Ready? What are you doing that makes a difference on the planet? That's your meter stick by which to measure your worth. Got that?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now we have a job for you. The Agency wants to put you to work. Does that tell you anything?"

"Uh, yes. It does," I said. I held up a hand for time. I needed a moment to think this through. I wanted to say it clearly. "Look, I think one of us has got to be a fool-and I know you're not. And I'm not sure I want the nomination."

"I beg your pardon?" Fromkin looked puzzled.

"How do I know you won't find me ... ah, what's the word, expendable again some time in the future?"

"You don't."

"So there's no guarantee, is there?"

"Right. There's no guarantee. You want the job?"

"No." I didn't even have to think about it.

"Right." He stood up to go

"Wait a minute!"

"You've changed your mind?"

"No! But-"

"Then we have nothing further to talk about." He started for the door.

"Aren't you going to try to . . ."

"What? Convince you?" He looked genuinely puzzled. "Why should I? You're a big boy now. At least that's what you've been telling us for the past three days. You can choose it or not. You don't need the sales pitch. And I don't have anything to sell."

"Aren't you at least going to tell me what it is?"

"No. Not until I know what your agreement is."

"Agreement?"

He looked annoyed. "Your commitment. What is it we can count on you for?"

"To kill Chtorrans. You can count on me for that."

"Good," he said. He returned to his chair. "Now, quit being an asshole about it. We're on the same side. I want the same thing you do. Dead Chtorrans. I want to put you to work. Do you want to work? Or do you want to screw around with politics-like our Fourth World friends?"

I glared at him. I didn't like this at all. But I said, "I want to work."

"Good. So get this-the time is over for games. And that includes self-righteousness. I'm telling you the truth now and you can count on me to keep on telling you the truth." His eyes were fierce. His expression was intense, but unashamed. I felt naked before him. Again.

I said, "This is very hard."

He nodded.

"I don't know if I can believe you or not."

"So don't believe me," Fromkin said. "Your belief is irrelevant. The truth is what's so, whether you believe it or not. The question is, what do you want to do about it?"

"Well-" I began. I felt myself smiling. "Revenge would be silly-"

"It's also out of the question." He smiled back.

"-so I might as well be useful."

"Good idea," Fromkin agreed. He leaned back in his chair. "You know, you may have forgotten, but you're an officer now. You fooled us. Nobody expected you to live long enough to use your commission. But you have, so now we've had to create an appropriate job for you."

"I've got one."

"Eh?"

"I've already got a job," I repeated. "I'm working on the Chtorran ecology. There are too many people making guesses without enough information. There aren't very many people out there actually gathering it. I had an instructor once who said that if you offered him the choice between a dozen geniuses for his lab or a couple of idiots who could handle field work, he'd take the idiots. He said it was more important to observe the facts accurately than to be able to interpret them, because if you observed enough of them accurately, you wouldn't have to interpret them--they'd explain themselves."

"Makes sense. Go on."

"Right. Well, you've got almost nobody out in the field. This war against the Chtorr doesn't exist yet because you-we don't have any intelligence on them!" I thumped my chest meaningfully. "That's my job! I'm an intelligence agent! That's where you need me the most. Because we don't even know yet who or what we're fighting-"

He was holding up one hand to stop me. "Hold it! You're preaching to the choir, son. I got it." He grinned broadly. It was the cheeriest expression I'd ever seen on him. "You know, it's a funny thing. That's exactly the same job we had picked out for you."

"Really?"

"Really." He nodded as he said it. "I'm making the assumption that we are on the same side, then?"

I looked at him. "I guess we are."

He said, "I know. It doesn't feel like it, does it?"

"No, not really. Not yet."

"So I'll tell you this. You don't get to choose your friends or your enemies. They're always thrust on you. All you get to choose is which category you're going to put them in." He grinned. "Wanna be my friend?" He held out a hand.

"Yeah." I took it.

"Thank you," he said, looking into my eyes. His gaze was intense. "We need you." He held onto my hand for a long moment, and I could feel his gratitude, almost like energy, flowing into me. I realized I didn't want to let go.

He smiled at me then, a warm expression like sunrise coming up over a cold gray beach. "You'll do fine. Major Tirelli will be by later to get you started. Do you have any other questions for me now?"

I shook my head. And then I said, "Just one-but it's irrelevant. Does the Mode training really work?"

He grinned. "Yes, it does. It did; I'm sorry it's such a low priority these days." His expression went wistful. "Someday, when there's more time, I'd like to tell you about it."

I said, "I'd like that."

That made him smile proudly. "I think you would." He stood up to go. "Oh, one more thing." He glanced at my meal tray. "Don't drink the orange juice."

"Huh?"

"I said, don't drink the orange juice."

I looked at his face. "I passed another test?"

"Right." He grinned again. "Don't worry, it's the last one."

"Is it?" I asked.

"I sure hope so, don't you?" He was laughing as he left.

I looked at the meal tray. There was a glass of orange juice on it. I poured it into the potted palm.