第6节
'You didn't hear the defaulter answer my question. Is that
understood?"
'Loud and clear, sir-ma'am!" they chorussed.
'Okay, wait outside. I'll call if we have any problems."
Harmer and Nolan saluted and left. Harmer didn't slam the door but he
shut it with sufficient vehemence to convey his annoyance at being
dismissed just when things were getting interesting.
Anderssen had her reasons. If what Brickman had said was true, the
fewer people that knew about it the better.
She ran her fingers along the streamer of blue-solar-cell fabric,
smoothing it flat against the desk top, then looked up at Brickman.
'Mutes don't take prisoners."
'They do now,' replied Brickman.
Anderssen turned to Major Hiller. 'Jerri - get a chair for this young
man. And grab a couple for yourselves.
Oh, and here -' She handed the red and white helmet to Major Roscoe.
'Put this junk somewhere."
Roscoe cleared Anderssen's desk, laying the bits and pieces on a
shelf.
Anderssen gazed at Brickman squarely. 'I'd like to draw your attention
to the two framed Unit Citations on the wall behind me. They were
awarded to this battalion because, here at Pueblo, we run things by The
Book.
That means, until your story checks out, you will be held as a
suspected cee-bee, subject to the conditions and restraints laid down
in the Manual. In other words you will be kept in chains, in solitary
confinement, and you will be hooded whenever you are removed from your
cell. The lieutenant in charge of the welcome-home party is a good man
but inclined to be overzealous.
Apparently, it was something you said. I will not permit any
unwarranted maltreatment but you should know that I and my fellow
officers share his dislike for code-breakers. If that's what you turn
out to be, you'll go to the wall - either here, or at Grand Central.
If it's here, I'll be there to give the order to fire. Is that
understood?"
'Loud and clear, sir-ma'am!" 'Okay. Sit down." Anderssen's face
softened a little.
'You look like you had a rough trip."
'It was worth it, ma'am." Brickman sat down, keeping his back straight
and his head up like a freshman during Induction at the Flight
Academy.
Interesting, thought Anderssen. The usual disciplined reaction to
authority but a distinct lack of awe. A typical NewMex wingman. But
there was something else that was different about this young man. A
winner, certainly. But it was more than that. Anderssen found it hard
to define but, if pressed, she would have said that Brickman exuded a
subtle air of natural superiority, of latent unstoppable power. The
kind that could take a man right to the top.
The light on her tv monitor flashed as Deke Haywood appeared on
screen.
'Brickman's ID-data just came down the wire from Grand Central. I've
put it on the converter. We can run a voice- and palm-print match
anytime from now."
Anderssen pressed the button that put her picture on the screen in
front of Deke. 'Okay, I'll get back to you on that."
'There's just one thing, ma'am. His record contains a Level Nine
entry."
Anderssen caught her breath. 'Okay, put it through."
Information transmitted over the video networks controlled by COLUMBUS
was graded into different levels of confidentiality. The level of
access was controlled by the magnetically coded ID-sensor card carried
by every Tracker. The card was upgraded with each promotion, or when
an individual was awarded extra privileges or assumed a post with extra
responsibilities.
As a colonel in command of an important way-station, Anderssen had
Level Nine access.
Deke wiped himself off the screen and put up a section of the file on
Brickman transmitted, via Roosevelt/Santa Fe, by COLUMBUS, the giant,
omniscient computer that functioned as the