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Chapter Twelve
MENTOR
Downing feigned intense interest in the cognac. "I'm sure you had a host of suitable volunteers already standing in line to become Riordan's full-time guardian ...
"Well, strictly speaking, we do have one 'volunteer'-but not standing in line. In fact, standing is something our volunteer hasn't done for a very long time."...
Downing frowned. "I'm sure that's quite witty, but I have no idea what you mean."
Half of Nolan's face was hidden behind his raised glass: "Our 'volunteer' is another long-duration sleeper."
"You can't be serious."
"Think about it, Richard. Another sleeper will be in the same boat as Riordan. If we choose a person with the right temperament and attitude, the two of them ...
Downing had to nod. "Yes, if we create the right kind of bonding events, the odds are good that they'd develop a strong affinity for each other." He lifted hi...
"It's not 'he,' Richard; it's 'she'-"
CALYPSO
The first thing she was aware of was nausea and the overpowering smell of chemicals: sharp, artificial, astringent. And the smell was not just around her; it wa...
Hard on the heels of that realization came the sense of cold: deep, numbing, down-to-the-bone cold. And she was tired, so tired.
Hours of repetitive drill worked even though her mind refused to. Altered senses, deep cold, drowsiness: onset of hypothermia. I'm freezing, blacking out. Got...
And then she was wide awake, as though someone had slapped her with an electric cattle prod-but the source of her sudden alertness seemed to be the hypodermic...
She was in a bed-a hospital? No, there was a panel above her, hinged like the lid of a tanning bed or a-
Coffin? She sat up quickly, looking around. A surge of nausea almost knocked her back down, blurred her vision. All she could see were angular shapes in the d...
* * *
Shapes and voices in the darkness. Cold and wet. Sudden light in the eyes. Then gone. More voices, most American, some British, a few translating rapidly into...
The light came back. And sound. "Captain? Captain?" The light was so bright. Seemed so far and so close all at the same time.
"Nonresponsive. I say we triage and move on."
"Excuse me, Major, but that's my CO. You are not 'triaging' her."
Shapes with shoulders, with hides of brown and green mottling, swam above her and between eddies of light and dark.
"Corporal, I'm in charge here-"
"Doctor, you are in charge here. But this assault rifle has a special veto power, if you get my drift."
The voices stopped. No, no; bring the nice voices back.
"Son, I know about her-she's a good officer, but we can't save her. Look."
She felt waves with fingers move her body, roll her to the left. There was pressure-unpleasant-behind her.
"Christ."
-then the tide of fingers receded, lowering her, and she was flat and level and comfortable again.
"She won't make it through surgery. And how long ago did she get hit?"
"About forty minutes now."
"Evacced how long ago?"
"Twelve, maybe fifteen minutes."
"Okay, then here's the rest of the bad news: she's been in her shredded MOPP for at least twenty-five minutes. And those weren't all fragmentation devices you...
"Doc, what about the cold cells?"
"I haven't . . . we . . . How do you know-?"
"Major, I know you're really a civilian, but understand: this is the Army. There's no way to keep a secret in the field."
The voices stopped, but she could tell they would start soon again.
"Okay, she's as good a first candidate as any. She signed the release?"
"Must have. Bitched no end to get us all to sign ours."
"Okay. But, son-"
"Yes, Major?"
"You do know you're never going to see her again?"
"Yes, sir. But it's not about whether I see her again, is it?"
"No, I guess not."
"You take good care of her."
"The best."
The best best best feeling was the warm blackness that came next. All warm and all black black black . . .
* * *