Gerry: You have it down to a science. :mrgreen:
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
July 5, 1948, 1910 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
"Is everything off?"
"Yes, sir. The tape recorder and both cameras are off."
"Is the observation room empty?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Open the door."
General Ramey braced himself as the guards slid the door to the prisoner's room open. He hated this place; even the muted colors of the furniture looked surprisingly garish against the blinding white tile. This room had Bernard Lewis written all over it, having obviously been designed to disorient and intimidate. Its construction had served as a way to keep Lewis occupied while he was here against Ramey's will, but even after successfully getting rid of him, his presence was felt every single time Ramey stepped inside this room. The alien was standing, facing the door with his hands clasped behind his back as he did every time Ramey visited. Whether this was a gesture of respect or defiance, Ramey couldn't tell, but he suspected the former.
"General," the alien said, nodding. "Good evening."
"Good evening, Mr. Doe," Ramey replied. "I trust you're well?"
"Quite, thank you. I understand you were successful?"
"That would be the understatement of the year," Ramey answered, his face splitting into a broad grin. "My colleagues were so excited about your night vision device, they practically wet their pants."
"I'm guessing that's an expression? I have not witnessed excitement causing humans to lose control of their excretory functions."
"Sounds better my way," Ramey chuckled. "Shall we sit?"
"Of course. Coffee?"
"Please."
Ramey settled himself on the couch, wondering anew at how normal this always felt. They had seen quite a bit of each other over the past six months as the NVD was developed, so much, in fact, that it was now very easy to forget that it was an alien he was dealing with rather than a human. There were many times when he found himself more comfortable with this 'person' than he was in Washington.
"So," the alien said as he delivered the coffee and took a seat opposite Ramey, "how was Corporal Keyser?"
"Exactly the way you said he'd be," Ramey answered. "Scared shitless at first, then an absolute barracuda when he got lip from my colleagues. Just watching that transformation was enough to get their attention."
"He has a passion for his work," the alien commented, "and is a much more effective spokesman for it than first—or even second—appearances would suggest."
"He certainly is," Ramey agreed. "Never in a million years would I have even considered taking Jesse Keyser to Washington with me. I appreciate you twisting my arm. In other words, pressing the point," he added when the alien looked blank.
"I've spent a great deal of time with Keyser," the alien noted. "He is a competent physicist."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Ramey replied, "because as of tomorrow, you're going to be seeing a lot more of him."
The alien's eyebrows rose. "So you plan to move forward?"
"Absolutely," Ramey answered. "Prior to this we didn't have sufficient security, and I didn't have sufficient clout. Now we have both.....and one can never tell how long the latter will last. So we move now, while we can. Are you prepared?"
"As I told you before, I cannot promise success," the alien warned. "The damage was severe."
"I understand," Ramey nodded. "Anything you can do would be better than what we have now." He paused. "I should add that you won't be working solely with Corporal Keyser, as you did with the NVD. This time there'll be a team of about two dozen people of various stripes: Engineers, mechanics, physicists, and so forth. They won't be told who you really are; as far as they're concerned, you're a top secret prisoner whose origin they're not cleared to know."
"A true statement, as far as it goes," the alien observed.
"What I mean, Mr. Doe," Ramey said carefully, "is that you're going to have to work with a lot of different people. And given what you're trying to do, you will no doubt find that.....limiting. Even infuriating. Any display of aggression on your part would be unacceptable."
The alien smiled faintly. "In other words, I should tactfully ignore the naïveté and ignorance I am about to encounter in abundance."
"In other words, although I'm meeting your conditions for this next project of ours, one wrong move on your part could spell the end of it. I don't think I need to point out to you what that would mean."
"No," the alien said, eyeing him steadily. "You don't."
"Good." Ramey stood up. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have a lot of work to do if we're to start tomorrow. Major Cavitt has no idea what we're up to."
"I look forward to his response," the alien said with mock innocence.
"I'll bet you do," Ramey said dryly. "Until tomorrow, then. Security will be very tight, so neither of us need worry about that. Besides, we haven't heard so much as a peep from your people in months. I rather doubt they're still here."
"I assure you they are."
Ramey paused. "Do you really think they're still out there after all this time?"
"I told you, General—my people will not leave until either I am in their custody, or I am dead," the alien said gravely. "I guarantee you they are still here."
******************************************************
Copper Summit, Arizona
Malik stepped into the basement chamber to find Marana bent over what was left of the unfortunate emergent, little more than a twisted lump of flesh. A moment later, she sat back with a sigh, impatiently pushing her human hair out of her face before shifting the hair away entirely. Malik suppressed a smile as he walked up behind her; Marana was always complaining about how inconvenient it was to have a head full of hair, but her human form looked quite odd without it.
"I wouldn't go downstairs if I were you," Marana said without turning around. "Amar is in a foul mood, tearing that faulty tank apart piece by piece and going over the rest of them. I've never seen him so concerned about someone else's welfare.
Anyone else's welfare."
"That's because he's worried that he really did have something to do with this one dying, and he doesn't want to admit it," Malik said. "I know you don't like him, but he's a gifted engineer, and he's absolutely passionate about this project; it was the one and only thing he wanted from Khivar when we were first approached to work for him. Amar would have built those tanks more carefully than anything he's ever done. If there's something wrong with the rest of them, he'll find it. How are you coming along?"
"Let's just say that Amar isn't the only one in a foul mood," Marana said darkly. "I don't have the right equipment for investigations like this."
"I take it the instruments Amar 'borrowed' from a human hospital aren't useful?"
"Sure they are," Marana said scornfully, "if all you want to do is tear a body apart. I had something a little more complex in mind."
"I still don't understand what exactly went wrong," Malik said, taking a seat beside her. "I thought we got him out in time. He was breathing. Why did he try to shift so soon?"
"I don't know," Marana sighed. "It could be a reaction to the oxygen deprivation, even though that was relatively brief. Or this could be evidence of anomalies that would have proven fatal in one way or another anyway."
"Which means the same thing could happen with the others down there," Malik said.
"And there's nothing we can do about it," Marana added. "This is the way it used to be before Zan and his father. More of us emerged like this than not. Take a good look, because we'll be seeing more of it."
"But these were grown from old stock," Malik protested. "If we can incorporate even some of the improvements that have been made, we could—"
"How?" Marana interrupted. "When Zan fell, his top bioscientists destroyed their records and fled. The few that got away are said to be harbored by Larak, and you know he won't turn them over to anyone but Zan."
"So why didn't you go with them?" Malik asked. "And don't tell me that none of our sister planets would harbor a Covari scientist. I know they all agreed not to grant asylum to any of our people who went rogue, but these are different circumstances. Larak would have hidden you."
"Hidden me, yes," Marana said quietly. "But accepted me? No. We'd only barely attained some level of acceptance on our own world. Besides, it took years to stabilize our people's reproduction, and most of that knowledge disappeared in the blink of an eye. I stayed to salvage what I could....and because that was my life. I want my life back, Malik. I want the stability that our people enjoyed. But
this is what we can expect for the foreseeable future," she said, gesturing sadly toward the emergent. "The Covari that are alive now are all that are left. Our race is dying."
"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" Malik said gently. "You have something more valuable than any records: The genes of every Covari alive right now. They can be the blueprint for the future. Khivar has a vested interest in producing free Covari, so—"
"No, he doesn't."
Malik stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"Orlon contacted Khivar a short while ago, asking permission to move our base closer to where Jaddo is being held and Brivari's human allies. He's furious that Brivari outsmarted him, and he thinks we have a better chance of catching him if we're closer to the two places we know he'd like to return to."
"But what about the emergents?" Malik asked. "We can't move all those tanks without someone noticing."
"He doesn't want to move them," Marana said bitterly. "He wants to abandon them. He argued that most of them will die anyway, and the need for them has passed.....and Khivar was wavering."
"But....that was our price!" Malik exclaimed. "The only reason we agreed to help Khivar in the first place was his pledge to find a way to produce free Covari, and he wanted that every bit as much as we did!"
"I'm sure he did.....at the time," Marana answered. "But look at where Khivar is now. He can send his people to this world because you and Amar helped develop a skin for them; he no longer needs Covari to search for the hybrids. And he finds himself within reach of something he's probably only dreamed of—the royal mark. If Khivar finds the hybrids and takes the mark, he won't need to grow Covari of his own because we'll all be every bit as beholden to him as we ever were to Zan."
Malik closed his eyes as Marana kept talking, but he barely heard her. How could he not have realized this? Khivar was in a much different position now than he had been several years ago when he had made an offer to a handful of rogue Covari on Earth. Why would Khivar direct his precious resources toward producing their people when he could merely take over those already alive?
"I won't do it!" Malik said fiercely, cutting Marana off in mid-sentence. "Amar won't either. Khivar can find someone else to chase Warders and hybrids if he wants to. We had a deal, and that deal continues until the very last emergent has matured!"
"I've already told Khivar and Orlon that I wouldn't go along with abandoning the emergents," Marana replied, "Imagine me agreeing with Amar. That'll be giving me nightmares for the rest of my life."
"And?"
"And....since no one has the royal mark, or no one capable of using it, anyway, we find ourselves in an unheard of position—able to say 'no' to Antar's ruler," Marana answered. "Khivar can't afford to lose us right now. He backed down, much to Orlon's chagrin. Expect him to be surly for several days."
"I don't care what Orlon thinks," Malik said heatedly. "You're right—there is no one to command us. We can support who we wish, negotiate for what we want. Maybe we should take advantage of that while we have the chance."
"Negotiate?" Marana said. "You can't be serious!"
"Why not?" Malik demanded. "Both Zan and Khivar are at a disadvantage now. We might not get this chance again."
"Chance?" Marana echoed. "Chance for what? How could we hold either one of them to any promises they make? All they have to do is wait, Malik. If Khivar finds Zan and takes the mark, he becomes our master. If Zan remains free, he'll have a ready-made army of our people at his command when he returns....assuming Khivar hasn't killed us all first, that is, to keep that from happening."
"Listen to me—"
"No,
you listen to
me!" Marana said in exasperation, pushing herself away from the workbench. "Any so-called 'negotiation' will end the moment one of them has what he wants. One of them will wind up ruling us, Malik. It's just a question of which one."
"You sound like Brivari," Malik muttered.
Marana's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," Malik said quickly, furious with himself that he'd spoken out loud. "It just......sounded like something he'd say."
"You were at the base for quite awhile before the others gave up searching the festival and went to find you," Marana noted. "What were you doing all that time?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Malik said irritably. "A minute ago you were all depressed about being a 'dying race', and now you're interrogating me?"
"Malik," Marana said slowly, ignoring his questions, "did you talk to Brivari last night?"
"Do you really think I would have survived such an encounter?"
"That's not an answer," Marana countered.
"No," Malik replied flatly. "It's not. And as I recall, just before the alarm for this emergent's tank went off, I was asking you if you'd talked to Brivari's human allies, and you didn't answer me either. Would you care to answer me now?"
Marana said nothing as they stared at each other in silence, neither willing to yield. Finally, Malik stood up.
"Tell you what," he said softly. "I'll answer you when you're ready to answer me."
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," General Ramey replied, looking up from the table where he was seated. "Come in."
Spade closed the door of the briefing room behind him and stood at attention at the end of the long, narrow table, the same table at which Ramey had been sitting that day last summer when he'd grilled Spade about the alien who had surrendered, offering him Scotch and being disarmingly honest about Major Cavitt. Only a year ago, and it seemed like ten.
"At ease," Ramey said, sitting back in his chair as Spade shifted to a more comfortable position. "So, Lieutenant, how are things running around here?"
"Very good, sir," Spade replied. "The new security procedures are running smoothly. We did have one x-ray machine break down, but we managed to repair it, so our reserve machines are untouched."
"Excellent. And morale?"
"Better than ever, sir. Now that they can leave, the men have the best of both worlds—all the amenities here, plus those at the base."
"Wonderful. Any problems with the prisoner?"
"No, sir."
"Any problems with Major Cavitt?"
"No more than usual, sir."
"An honest answer," Ramey said with a faint smile. "And the compound itself? Is everything secure?"
Ramey's tone was casual, but Spade caught the reference immediately.
Is everything secure.... In other words, was a certain letter written by Ramey which contained damning information about alien prisoners still safely hidden against the day when it might be needed? "Absolutely," Spade replied. "Everything is secure, sir. And if I may ask, how are things going with you?"
"You may, and never better," Ramey answered. "The night vision device that Keyser and our 'guest' developed was a stunning success. Washington is thrilled. Which leads me to our next project and your new orders.....but I'm getting ahead of myself. First things first. Come forward."
Mystified, Spade walked the length of the table as Ramey rose from his chair, removing something from his pocket as he did so. "First Lieutenant Stephen Spade," he said formally, "I hereby promote you to the rank of Captain. Congratulations."
Spade's mouth worked several times before anything came out. "Thank you, sir!" he managed to stammer, as Ramey pinned a silver bar on his collar next to his First Lieutenant's bar, making a set of Captain's bars. "I...I didn't see this coming."
"As far as I'm concerned, it's been a long time coming," Ramey said. "An awful lot of you earned promotions last December, and only now do I find myself in a position to reward those deserving."
"I appreciate it, sir," Spade said, glancing down at the second silver bar on his collar, unable to believe his eyes.
Captain.... A year ago, he'd been a lowly Private, and now he was a Captain. The next paycheck was going to be bigger.
"I wish to make something clear, Captain," Ramey continued. "You've been promoted more quickly than anyone I've ever seen. Your commander elevated you to the rank of First Lieutenant last July because he wanted you to lead his security detail, and that was the lowest rank the Army would accept for the commander of a detail of that size and importance. That was a promotion largely borne of necessity, but you earned this one—the hard way. Your tenacity, fearlessness, and willingness to speak the truth have earned you my respect and the respect of the men under your command. You've even earned Lieutenant Colonel Cavitt's respect, although I doubt he'd admit it."
"Thank you, sir," Spade said, flushing slightly. "Wait—did you say 'Lieutenant Colonel' Cavitt?"
"I did," Ramey confirmed. "And it's now 'Lieutenant Colonel Pierce', although I imagine he'll still prefer 'doctor'."
"Yes, sir," Spade said, some of the glow fading from the moment. He wasn't the only one on an upward trajectory; a year ago, Cavitt had been a Captain. To see someone like Cavitt promoted was downright galling.
"Life isn't always fair, is it, Captain?" Ramey said softly.
"No, sir," Spade said tightly. "It isn't."
"Well, let me see what I can do about that," Ramey said, resuming his seat. "Have a seat. These," he continued, pushing a set of papers in Spade's direction as he sat down, "are your new orders. Read them over thoroughly. I want to be absolutely certain that we understand each other before you leave this room."
Spade obediently took the papers and read them in silence. When he finished, he assumed he must have read them wrong and read them again. A third time through produced the same results.
"Are you serious, sir?" Spade asked in amazement.
"Dead serious."
"You mean you're....you're actually going to let the prisoner out of the compound?"
"The prisoner made it clear that allowing him to leave was the only way to accomplish this, and I agree," Ramey answered. "He'll work a standard nine hour day, from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon with half an hour for lunch and two fifteen minute breaks. In addition to Corporal Keyser, there will be a team of about a dozen people working on site with him, including some Air Force personnel. That's the easy part."
Ramey rose from his chair, hands clasped behind his back. "The hard part will be security....and that's where you come in. Compound personnel will provide all the security to, from, and at the work site. X-ray machines will be installed, and everyone involved will be screened by compound personnel before entering and leaving. No one will be allowed to leave mid-day; all breaks must be taken on site. That will minimize the opportunities for infiltration."
Spade nodded wordlessly as the General's words flew past him, trying to imagine John's reaction to being able to walk outside for the first time in a full year. He remembered how it had felt to leave the compound after the lockdown had ended, that sense of exhilaration and freedom, and he hadn't even been as restricted as most of his own men. This was a huge.
"No one but compound personnel will know exactly who—or what—the prisoner is," Ramey was saying. "He will be introduced as Mr. John Doe, addressed as Mr. Doe, and any further questions will be answered by noting the inquirer's lack of security clearance. The construction team will be told that the x-ray machines are used for identification with no specifics given as to how that identification is accomplished. At no time will any personnel from this compound divulge that we are harboring a live alien."
"Then what are you going to tell them, sir?" Spade asked. "They'll know it's not of human origin. We'd better tell them something, or their imaginations will do the rest."
"What do you suggest?"
"Well....I doubt anyone will suspect he's an alien because they won't expect aliens to look human," Spade said, tapping his fingers on the table as he ticked through the possibilities. "We can't pass him off as a Russian. We could call him an American spy, but then he would be met with so much hostility, that might do more harm than good. How about a German spy? Many of them learned to mask their accents, and the Nazi's were into some pretty weird stuff."
"Good thought," Ramey said. "I'll consider it. You'll have my final orders tomorrow morning before you leave. Remember, Captain, that the safety of this facility is still of vital importance. You are now responsible for the security of two different buildings, and we can't afford to have either compromised, whether or not the prisoner is actually present. As you look at those security procedures, is there anything we've failed to take into consideration?"
Only a bunch of enemy aliens hanging around, Spade thought, scanning the list one more time. The new procedures were very thorough, but the fact remained that John would be especially vulnerable on the way to and from his new workplace, with only a truck and a few soldiers to stand between him and any attackers. "These are very thorough, sir," Spade replied, "but we'll need to be especially careful while the prisoner is being moved—that would be the perfect time for aliens to attack. I'd recommend using at least three trucks and varying the particular truck which carries the prisoner. That way they'd have to take down all three in order to find him."
"You think they're still out there?"
"I'm sure of it, sir."
Ramey sat back in his chair, eyeing Spade closely. "Mr. Doe said the same thing. I can understand his certainty since they're his own people, but what's the source of
your certainty, Captain? Have you seen or heard anything that would lead you to believe his people are still here?"
Spade waited a long minute before answering. "No, sir," he lied. "But better safe than sorry."
******************************************************
"You wanted to see me, Daniel?"
At work in a side room off the main lab, Corporal Brisson flipped off the light and carefully opened the door when he heard Cavitt's voice, leaving only the tiniest of cracks with no telltale sliver of light to show. Dr. Pierce had looked up from his microscope, his face awash in excitement.
"Sheridan! It's about time—I left you a message when I got back this afternoon. What took you so long?"
"Congratulations on your stunning success in Washington," Cavitt said tonelessly. "And yes, in retrospect, I wish I had accompanied you. Happy?"
"This isn't about—"
"Perhaps you wish to gloat over your recent promotion? Save your breath. I, too, have been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel....much to your dismay, I'm sure."
"Stop polishing your brand new oak leaves and get over here," Pierce said impatiently. "This is far more important than jewelry. And lock the door, would you?"
Cavitt stared at him a suspiciously for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him. "What is it?" he asked, after locking the door and joining Pierce.
"Our joint venture has reached it's first milestone," Pierce announced triumphantly. "I believe Lieutenant White conceived!"
Oh, no. Brisson leaned against the doorframe in shock as the impact of the doctor's words sank in. He'd suspected, of course, but had been hoping he was wrong.
"I thought you'd forgotten about that," Cavitt said, still sounding suspicious. "I haven't heard anything from you in months."
"I told you we had moved to human trials."
"Right—and then I heard nothing," Cavitt said peevishly.
"Dredge up your high school biology, Sheridan. Human females are only capable of conceiving for a few days each month, which meant that both the data collection and the 'inseminations', for lack of a better word, could only be attempted for a few days each month. We began last December, and we've hit the jackpot on only our seventh try. That's lightning fast, biologically speaking."
Brisson watched as Cavitt eyed Pierce warily, obviously trying to decide whether this latest development merited his excitement. Brisson had already rendered his own private decision on that question. At first elated when Pierce had described this project to him, he'd become more and more uneasy when he'd learned that Lieutenant White was the intended vessel for the alien-human offspring Pierce was attempting to produce. Violating her quarters to discover the timing of her menstrual cycles had been creepy enough, but violating
her.....it made him shudder to even think of it. He had watched her carefully after each procedure, and just as Dr. Pierce had promised, she had seemed absolutely fine: Healthy, cheerful, and blissfully unaware. He'd managed to rationalize away the whole issue based on its lack of effect on her until yesterday, when he'd watched her clutch her abdomen in pain. Now the stakes had skyrocketed.
"Are you sure she conceived?" Cavitt was asking.
"Absolutely," Pierce answered. "Blood tests reveal the presence of HCG, and—"
"HCG?"
"Human chorionic gonadotropin," Pierce explained. "A hormone produced during pregnancy. And then there's this." He gestured toward the microscope, stepping back so Cavitt could look.
Hesitating, Cavitt bent his head to the microscope's eyepiece for only a moment. "You know perfectly well I'm not a doctor, Daniel. What am I looking at?"
"A zygote," Pierce replied promptly.
"And that is.....what, exactly?"
"A zygote is a fertilized egg," Pierce replied. "But this isn't just any fertilized egg. It's a human egg fertilized with an alien reproductive cell. Not only that, but, from what I can tell, this zygote tried to implant in the uterus and failed. That's very good news."
"That it failed?"
"That it tried," Pierce answered with exaggerated patience. "That means it's behaving the same way a human zygote would behave, trying to implant and grow."
"But it
didn't 'implant'," Cavitt argued. "This isn't good news, it's old news. You've spent months combining human and alien cells, so you already knew that was possible."
"Petrie dishes are not people," Pierce said cheerfully, refusing to let his good mood be ruined. "I've produced hundreds of alien-human zygotes, but none could tell me how those zygotes would behave in a human body, if they would try to implant in the uterus like human zygotes would. Now we know."
"We know it tried," Cavitt said flatly. "Once. And failed once. An abysmal failure rate."
"A normal failure rate," Pierce corrected. "Human conception is an iffy prospect at best, and even when it occurs, most zygotes die or fail to implant properly long before the female ever knows she was briefly pregnant. And that's not counting those that do implant and are later miscarried. We're still well within the norm, for human reproduction, at least."
"And what have you learned about alien reproduction?"
"Not much," Pierce admitted, "other than the two types of reproductive cells we found, which were hard to miss—they don't disintegrate after removal like every other part of the alien's body. I suppose having one's reproductive cells go
poof hours after they leave the body is counterproductive....no pun intended," he chuckled, as Cavitt rolled his eyes. "Anyway, neither alien possessed anything even remotely recognizable as a uterus, which could mean that both are male."
"Or it could mean that they reproduce outside the body instead of inside," Cavitt commented.
Pierce looked up from his microscope. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, I.....well, it's a logical hypothesis, isn't it? Cavitt answered, sounding uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "Look, Daniel, have you given any thought to what you're going to do if Lieutenant White does successfully conceive? You can't keep something like a pregnancy secret forever, nor can you merely spirit her off somewhere. She's one of Ramey's darlings. He asked for her personally when he called two nights ago."
"Our big-eyed friends have solved that dilemma for us," Pierce said with satisfaction. "When the time is right, there will be another alien attack, after which Lieutenant White will be missing."
"You're going to say aliens captured her?"
"Why not? She's closer to the prisoner than any of us—she's the logical choice. Meanwhile, she'll be well cared for by a friend of mine who runs a mental institution in a remote area. Even if she manages to escape, there'll be nowhere to go. I'll need your cooperation, of course, when the time comes to stage this 'attack'. I'm assuming I can count on that?"
"If this takes as long as you say it could, there may be another attack anyway," Cavitt said.
"All the better," Pierce smiled. "The more alien attacks there are, the more our version will not be questioned. Cheer up, Sheridan! Your dream of a soldier with alien abilities is closer to coming true, along with my Nobel. That's good news, right?"
"You seem to think it's closer than I do, but at least one of us is excited," Cavitt said sourly.
"So impatient," Pierce said, shaking his head regretfully. "So
very impatient."
"I want results," Cavitt snapped, "not 'nearly's', 'almost's' and 'tried's'.
"Results take time," Pierce sighed. "This isn't a battle, it's a biological process. But since you can't understand that, run along now and polish those lovely silver oak leaves. That'll make you feel better."
"You're impossible," Cavitt muttered, heading for the door. "Oh—before I forget, the General wants to see your Corporal Brisson. Seems he's next on the list."
What list? Brisson thought, drawing back from the door in alarm. A moment later, Pierce called his name.
"Brisson!" Pierce beamed. "The General wants to see you, no doubt about my recommendation for a promotion for you."
"Pr—promotion?" Brisson stammered. "Do you really think so, sir?"
"I'm sure of it," Pierce said confidently. "Your work has been outstanding, Corporal, just outstanding. Granted, The General doesn't even know we're doing most of this, but no matter. You have it coming, if only for following up on this latest fantastic development while I was away. She conceived, Corporal!" he said, grasping Brisson's shoulders with excitement. "Can you believe it? She actually conceived! There are definitely traces of uterine tissue clinging to that zygote, which can only mean that it implanted, however briefly. And we would never have known that if you hadn't retrieved the evidence. Your vigilance is what convinced me to pressure Ramey for a promotion for you. You weren't on the short list."
Promotion... This morning, Brisson would have given his eyeteeth to make Sergeant. Now, knowing why he was receiving it, he couldn't believe he'd ever wanted anything so shallow. "Thank you, sir," he said faintly, remembering the "evidence" he'd removed from the bathroom wastebasket and fervently wishing he'd left it there, leaving Pierce ignorant of his success. "But..."
"But what?"
"Well....she was in pain, sir."
"Of course," Pierce said dismissively. "Some pain is inevitable in research. Now, run along and pick up your Sergeant's stripes. I'm sure you'll want them on your uniform by morning." He grasped Brisson's hand, pumping it up and down. "Congratulations, Corporal. You must be very proud."
"Yes, sir," Brisson said faintly. "Very."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next week, Part 7 comes to an end; the following week, Part 8 will jump us to 1949. I'll post Chapter 98 next Sunday.
I knew there wouldn't be anything there for the others to see! I wondered who it was until I got to the part with Brivari returning to the cave.
:D
, so I open a Word page and minimize it to the bottom of the screen. Every time I see something that I want to quote, I paste it on that Word page. Then when I'm finished reading the chapter, I select the whole page, copy it, and paste it into the reply box. Then I add my comments and the quote brackets and whatnot. It makes quoting easier and it also helps me to remember things I might forget to mention, though I still forget to mention some things that I intended to mention that I didn't copy quotes for.