A Day for Damnation twatc-2 Page 23

  "If there is one," I said dryly. Mr. Takahara's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

  "Oh now, don't give me that liberal-defeatist crap. That song and dance may work on a congressman-but you're talking to Alan Wise here, and you know your mother doesn't hang out with dummies."

  "Mmm, if you say so."

  "Listen, I know how the game is played. The military has to make the war look serious to justify all those heavyweight appropriations. Read your history, son! The more money they want, the worse the war gets. It's all about John Q. Taxpayer and his hardearned Labor Standard Kilocalorie banknotes. The truth is, this is a terrific time for a smart man who knows how to read a newspaper."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I'm talking big money, son. Corporations. Licenses, Federal grants. I want you to know, there's an incredible opportunity here!"

  "Huh-?"

  "It's raining soup!" he said. "It's time to grab your bucket! I'm in the Reclamation Industry-and people are making fortunes every day! It's all there for the taking. There are huge areas still waiting to be reopened-whole cities. Somebody's got to go in and do the job-and whoever does it is going to get rich. Very rich. The government knows this. The army knows it. But all this war-scare stuff is keeping people from seeing the real problemthat big government has got its hands in our pockets again. And it's a very good excuse for the army to go in and nationalize the unclaimed property. You pay attention, son-read the papers! Not just that K'torran stuff. You'll see what's going on."

  My mother gave his arm a squeeze and said, "Alan works so hard-" She looked across at me with an expression that said, Don't start an argument.

  "Mr. Wise-" I said.

  "Alan," he corrected.

  I ignored it. "-Mr. Wise, I am a lieutenant in the United States Army, Special Forces Warrant Agency. We take care of those special challenges that are beyond the duties of the regular army. As such," I explained, "we are under the direct command of the President of the United States. The Special Forces is currently assigned to one task and one task only: the eradication of all Chtorran gastropedes-we call them worms-from the continental United States and Alaska. Hawaii is not presently infested.

  "In the course of my duties, I have come in contact with over a hundred of the monsters. I have been personally responsible for the deaths of fifteen of them. I have one of the highest kill ratios in the Special Forces. If we had such classifications, I would be considered an ace. So I will tell you this about the worms-"

  "Jim-" my mother interrupted. "I don't think this is the time or place for war stories."

  I caught myself. I looked at my mother, and at Alan Wise. And realized something. They were both a little red-faced and happy-looking. They were both drunk. I couldn't tell about Mr. Takahara. He was a silent enigma.

  What was it Duke had told me once? When a drunk and a fool get into an argument, you can't tell which is which. You have to wait until the drunk sobers up. The other one is the fool. How do you know when a drunk and a fool are in an argument? Easy. Anyone who argues with a drunk is automatically a fool.

  Right.

  "No, no, hon. Let him talk. I want to hear-" Alan Wise turned and nuzzled my mother's cheek, her neck-he nibbled her ear. She squealed and protested, but she didn't push him away.

  I said, "Actually, I don't think we can have this conversation at all-"

  "Eh?" He looked up at me.

  "-because you really don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Wise. When you've done your research properly, then we can talk." I stood up. Their faces were gaping. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom."

  THIRTY-THREE

  MY MOTHER was waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. I'd have been disappointed in her if she hadn't.

  "What is the matter with you!" she whispered angrily. "All I wanted was a quiet little evening with the two men in my life! Is that too much to ask! Do you have to ruin everything? Now, I want you to go back in there and apologize-"

  I headed for the front door instead.

  Her voice went up an octave. "Where are you going?"

  "Back to the military-industrial complex for a little more brainwashing," I growled.

  Alan Wise of the hearty handshake was leaning up against the front door. I guess he thought that would stop me.

  "Son," he said.

  "I am not your son-" I warned.

  "Whether you apologize to me or not is unimportant. But I certainly think you owe an apology to your mother. You're being rude in her house."

  A half dozen possible replies flashed through my head, most of them having to do with the inhabitants of my mother's bedroom. I discarded all of them as being unworthy.

  I opened my mouth. I closed it. I realized that whatever I said would only make it worse. The situation was a zero-sum game. I could apologize and be wrong, or I could remove Mr. Wise from the door and leave-and be wrong. It was a question of how wrong I wanted to be. I knew I sure as hell wasn't going to apologize. I only apologized to people I liked.

  I started to turn away. The hell with it. I turned back. I said, "Listen-I didn't mean to infer that you don't know anything. You may know quite a bit about your field-but you don't know anything about my field. I know the Chtorran ecology. I just spent three days buried up to my ass in it and three weeks in a hospital recovering. I know what we're up against. You can tell me anything you want about anything else, but I've seen the worms. I've seen what they can do. I've seen-"

  And stopped in the middle of my tirade. And realized something.

  Three days buried in pink dust-and I hadn't seen the most obvious thing!

  Those worms-every single one of them-from the first worm that Duke and I encountered to the congregation that clustered around the chopper to worship the blimp-those worms were the first ones I'd ever seen that had not immediately attacked a human being on sight.

  I turned away from Alan Wise and my mother and my anger and walked out onto the terrace again. I held up my hand as a signal for them to leave me alone.

  What if he was right-?

  Not about all that political crap-but what if he was right about the worms? What if the truth was, they were not hostile?

  I picked up my beer and carried it to the balcony rail. I looked out toward the Santa Cruz mountains. Were there worms up there? I wondered.

  Look-I told myself-every worm I've ever encountered, I've had a torch in my hands and I've burned it. And that was because all the worms I'd ever seen-until the episode in the dust-had been hostile.

  But then-I'd always had a torch in my hands. The episode in the dust was the first time I hadn't. And that was the first time I saw nonhostile worms.

  Could it be that the worms were somehow sensing and reacting to my own hostility-?

  It was a fascinating idea.

  -If I could meet a worm in a situation with no hostility in it, would it still attack?

  There was no way to test it. No, check that. There was no safe way to test it.

  We'd made up our minds that the worms were a threat-so we were burning them. What if the worms were only a threat to us because we were a threat to them?

  The other factor in that equation, of course, was the bunnydogs. Based on the evidence I'd seen so far, you could make a very good case that the bunnydogs controlled the worms. If so, then we knew that the worms could be controlled. Now if we could find out how

  I needed to talk about this with Dr. Fletcher. "Jim-" That was my mother. "Are you all right?"

  I turned around. Alan Wise was standing behind her. They both looked concerned. Mr. Takahara had discreetly absented himself. I nodded. "I'm fine. I really am. It's just-I just realized something very important." I looked past her to Alan Wise. "You were the catalyst. Something you said. It triggered an idea. Thank you. And-" What the hell, Lizard said it was the one thing I was good at. "-I'm sorry I flew off the handle, I really am-"

  "Apology accepted." He waved magnanimously. He was still a jerk, but at least I didn't have to hat
e him for it any more.

  I turned back to my mom. "I need to get back to Oakland-"

  "Without eating-? You just got here!"

  "Won't it wait?" Alan asked.

  "Um-this is really important."

  "Well, so is dinner. There's something Alan wants to talk to you about. I specifically invited you so he could-"

  We started off with fresh tomato juice, pate, and a spinach salad-where had she found spinach? Obviously, somebody had spent some money on this meal. This was important.

  So I praised every course, and waited for the punch line. Had he finally proposed-? Was that what this was about? And who was Mr. Takahara?

  Alan kept his dinner conversation polite. Apparently my earlier outburst had given him a healthy fear of the United States Army-or at least of my commitment to it.

  He was also talking much more obliquely than before. "Listen, Jim-I wasn't kidding about the money to be made. For instance, do you know what July dollars are selling for right now? If you had bought July dollars last December, you could turn them over for a thirty percent profit right now. The market is galloping. It's a whole new ball game-and it's the best one yet. Now that the banks have been reorganized, this country can show a profit on the inflation of its currency. And thirty percent is a very healthy rate. It's good for us. It guarantees a lot of economic growth."

  I shrugged. "I guess you're right, Alan. I don't really know that much about economics."

  He nodded at me enthusiastically. "That's the point. If you were to start turning your caseys into future dollars, you could double your money every eighteen months."

  "So-?"

  He looked over at my mother. She looked at me. "Dear-" she said, "-don't they pay you some kind of bounty for every Chatorran you kill?"

  The punch line.

  The United States government would pay one million caseys for every worm killed, ten million for every one captured alive. I'd collected two bounties as an individual and was owed a third. As a member of a team, I'd participated in 106 others. Last I'd looked, I was worth 9.2 million kilocalories. So what? What was I going to do with it?

  My mother had an idea.

  I looked at her. I looked at Alan. I was incredulous. "I don't believe this. That's what this is all about?"

  Alan held up a hand. I held back. "Jim-wait a minute. Hear me out."

  "No-" I said. "Absolutely not. Not half an hour ago, you were telling me you didn't even believe the worms were a threat. Now you're asking for the money the government pays for killing them. Excuse me, but that feels a lot like hypocrisy-" I could feel my tantrum shifting into high gear.

  Alan said, "Jim! I didn't know that was the source of your money. I apologize-"

  I looked at him. "Really?"

  "Really. I apologize. I was out of line before. I didn't know-" He looked a little desperate. "-You had every right to get angry with me. If you have nine million caseys in bounty money, I guess that's proof enough you know what you're talking about."

  "How did you know it was nine million? I never said how much I had-"

  "Your mother told me you had a credit account. She didn't tell me where it came from. I'm sorry, Jim. Really."

  Two apologies. The man was desperate. I sat down again, curious.

  Alan looked to my mother. "'Nita, honey-would you serve the coffee now?"

  My mother nodded and left the table. "Coffee? Real coffee?"

  "No expense has been spared for the number one son." He grinned nervously, then allowed himself to relax a little. "I'd like to offer you an opportunity, Jim. I'd like you to listen, if you will."

  I shrugged. "I'll listen, but I'm not lending any money-"

  Mr. Takahara cleared his throat politely. We both turned to look at him.

  "If I may," he said. "The opportunity is actually mine to offer. Mr. Wise-" he bowed modestly, "-invited me here tonight specifically to meet you."

  "Sir?"

  "I am not going to ask you to lend me any money, young man. I already have all the money I need. May I tell you how this works?"

  "I said I'd listen... ."

  He took that as an assent. "My company is bidding on a major reclamation project-I can't tell you what-but it's one of the biggest ever. Now, I don't know if you know anything about the Reclamation Laws, but they're very strict. You cannot just set up a company and start bidding."

  "Any gang of looters can do that-" interrupted Alan. Mr. Takahara looked at Alan Wise politely.

  Alan Wise shut up.

  Mr. Takahara smiled and turned back to me. "This is the way it works. You have to put a deposit in escrow equal to one percent of your claim. So the amount of money you bring in determines the amount you can take out."

  My mother returned with the coffee. Alan and I waited while she poured it. The aroma was intoxicating. I'd forgotten how much I missed coffee.

  "So-" said Alan, resuming-yanking me out of my reverie over coffee. "Do you see what a terrific opportunity this is for you? You can put your money into a protected escrow account-and our company can then claim a very large and important piece of property. That's why I was suggesting that you invest in dollar futures. The federal government will accept that as a continually expanding collateral. You put it in a rotating account."

  "Uh huh-and what happens when I want to take my money out again?"

  Alan nodded, "But you won't want to-"

  I said, "It sounds like I take the risk and you take the profit."

  Mr. Takahara spoke again. He said, "This is very good coffee. My compliments."

  My mother smiled and nodded and looked uncertain. "Why-thank you."

  Mr. Takahara looked to me then. "There is no risk to you. You will own a pro rata share of the operation. That is better than you can get from any other reclamation company."

  Alan Wise added, "You stand to turn your nine million caseys into ninety million." He looked at me expectantly. "That's quite a deal, isn't it?"

  I hesitated. "If you say so. Um-what do you get out of it?"

  Alan Wise spread his hands modestly. "I'm what they call ... a participating agent. I put the package together and I take points."

  "Points?"

  "A piece of the package."

  "Oh."

  "Jim-" he added. "It's not just your money we want. It's your expertise as well. It's you we want. And-there's something else. I didn't want to bring it up, but it wouldn't be fair not to-" He glanced over at my mom and then back to me. "Your mother asked me if I could get you out of the army and into some place a little, well-safer. Your being in the hospital and all-well, you know how mothers are. She worries. I don't know what your present commitment is; but I know you've completed your basic obligation, so I know that something can be worked out. I know some people in Denver, and-well, you know; maybe it can be arranged. And certainly, if these worms, as you call them, are as dangerous as you say, then you ought to give serious thought to this. It's a safer, far more lucrative alternative. You've done your part for your country. Now it's time to do something far yourself, and for your mother too."

  I glanced over at her. Too much makeup, too much jewelry, too much perfume-and too much hope in her eyes. There was too much desperation in this room. It made me very uncomfortable.

  "This coffee is very good," I said. I put my cup down thoughtfully. All of them were watching me carefully. I picked up my napkin and patted my mouth. "I, uh-I'm going to have to think about this." My father had taught me that-the polite way to say no. "I have to think about it." Just keep repeating it until they get tired. It works on everyone except used-car and encyclopedia salesmen.

  "Absolutely!" Alan Wise agreed, a little too enthusiastically. "You have to be sure that it works for you. I wouldn't want you to do anything that you're not absolutely sure of. But I just want to give you one more fact. Now, it's completely off the record, and you didn't hear it here-but it just might be the one piece of information you need to hear-" He looked at me, he looked at Mr. Takahara, he looked at my mother
, he looked back to me. "Are you ready?" he asked dramatically.

  "I think I can take it," I said.

  "One word-" He whispered. "Manhattan."

  "No way!" I protested. "Denver has been denying access to that real estate for three years. They say they won't even consider reclamation for another three. Even the Mothball Corps has to be bonded before they can go in. There's no way you're going to get a piece of that rock!"

  Alan spread his hands wide in front of him. "Be that as it may. That's the word you need to keep in mind."

  I realized my skepticism was showing. I picked up my coffee cup, but it was empty. I put it down again quickly. "Well-like I said, I need time to think it over."

  Mr. Takahara patted his mouth with his napkin and said, "I understand your position perfectly."

  Alan Wise I didn't trust-but Mr. Takahara was another story. "Is this true about Manhattan?" I asked him.

  "I would be violating a confidence if I told you all that I knew," he replied.

  "Yes, of course. But that doesn't answer my question."

  He smiled-and he looked like Buddha. "What I can tell you is that there are extraordinary developments coming to fruition in the next eighteen months."

  "Mm," I said. He'd told me nothing. "Thank you."

  "I'm sure you understand what he really means," Alan said a little too quickly.

  "Yes, but like I said, I have to think about it."

  "Yes, of course. I don't want to push you." He wiped his nose with his napkin. "Here, let me give you my card. If you have any questions, call me-any time, day or night."

  I slipped his card into my pocket without looking at it. I turned instead to my mother. "You said you were working on some project with maps-?"

  She shook her head. "I've been working with the refugee relocation office. We're looking for places to establish colonies, that's all. We're using Family as the model-that's the one that takes care of the children, remember?"

  "Uh huh. That's off the new peninsula, right? How is that doing?"

  "Very nicely," she said. But she didn't really want to talk about it, I could tell. The light had gone out of her eyes. She excused herself abruptly and went into the kitchen and clattered the dishes around.