I shook hands gently. My wrist was still sore.

She said, "If you still want the bugs, take them."

I glanced back at the cage. The third baby millipede had finally gotten out of its shell. It was trying to crawl up the surface of the glass. Its belly was bright red. It stopped and stared at me. Its eyes were large and black and unnerving.

I shrugged. "I don't know now. I only wanted them back because I thought nobody around here cared. Now, I see that's not so. If you can do a better job . . ."

Fletcher grinned again. "Yes, we can."

I made a decision. "Well, then-keep 'em here. I just want to know what there is to know about them."

"I'll put your name in the computer," she said. "You can plug into the files any time you want. Our job here is to disseminate information, not hide it." Then her eyes twinkled and she added, "Visiting hours are every day from noon to five. Next time, bring flowers."

"I will," I said. I dropped my gaze away from her eyes. For some reason, they were suddenly too beautiful to look at. I made a show of looking at my watch. I was embarrassed again, but this time for a totally different reason. "Well-" I said "-I guess I'd better get going. I have a plane to catch. Thanks again. For everything."

I turned awkwardly toward the door. She stepped in front of me. "Just one thing. That was a pretty fair piece of shooting. I was there. My compliments." And she stretched upward and kissed me warmly on the lips.

I could feel myself blushing all the way to the jeep.

FORTY-ONE

WE WERE on a high hill overlooking a shadowed valley, almost a canyon. At the bottom, a glittering stream sluiced down between the two sheer slopes, zig-zagging from north to south and forming a wide, shallow pond where the canyon opened up. The surface of the water reflected back the sky; it looked like blue glass. At the far end of the pond, the water poured gently over the edge of a low earth-and-wood dam.

A long shelf of land bordered the little lake. Near the dam was a rounded dome, almost unnoticeable against the black earth of the hill behind it. I studied it through the binoculars for a long time. The dome seemed darker than usual. It looked as if mud had been smeared all over its surface. Not a bad camouflage, but still not good enough to fool the computers. Satellite reconnaissance was monitored, processed and analyzed on a twenty-four hour basis for telltale changes in local terrain. The particular rounded bump of the worm hut, the dam, the local harvesting of trees-any of these things alone could have triggered an investigation; all of them together had put this valley on the ImmediateAttention list. It had taken us three weeks to get to it.

I passed the binoculars over to Duke. He peered through and grunted.

"They're getting smarter," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah. This one is just plain inaccessible. There's no way we can get down there unnoticed."

Larry was studying the canyon upstream. "Can't raft in," he said.

Duke nodded in agreement. "Didn't think we could." He turned to Larry. "Call the blimp. We're dropping the team in." Larry nodded and thumbed his radio to life. Duke looked toward me. "What are you thinking?"

I said, "It puts it all on the shoulders of the first man. He's got to hold the position until the others are safely down." I closed my eyes for a second and visualized what it might be like. "I'll do it," I said.

"You don't have to," Duke said.

"Yes, I do."

"All right," said Duke. "Fine. Do you have any problems with the plan?"

"No," I said. And then I shrugged and grinned. "I hate it-but I have no problems with it."

Duke eyed me steadily. "What's that about?"

"I hate blimps. I have this thought the worms will hear us coming. Or see the shadow."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. I hate heights."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah."

Duke looked at Larry. "You?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't get that from you-what's going on?" Larry shook his head.

"You still obsessing about Louis' death?"

Larry shook his head. Louis had died two weeks after his finger had been bitten. He'd started shivering one afternoon, then collapsed. He sank into a coma that evening and was dead the following morning. The autopsy showed that almost every red blood cell in his body had been exploded-from the inside. The killer was a virus that behaved like malaria. There were now thirty-four viral or bacteriological agents that had been identified as active agents in the Chtorran infestation. Louis had been lucky. His death had been quick, and relatively painless.

Duke said, "Larry, are you going for revenge?" Larry didn't answer.

"-Because if you are, you'll stay behind. It'll get in the way."

"I'll be fine!"

Duke looked at Larry. "You fuck up, I'll put a stake through your heart. I promise you."

Larry grinned, "I got it, boss."

"All right." Duke included me again. "Let's get moving. Be sure your teams are clear. We'll have a final briefing just before we go." Duke looked at me. "Jim, you and I will go over the attack plan with the pilot. You're right about the shadow-we have to keep it off the dome-and the engine noise, so let's see what the wind is doing. If it's light enough, we'll float across the valley."

We slid back down the hill. We'd left our jeep a quarter-mile away, on a fire road. It took us another half-hour to get to the landing site where the blimp was waiting. Our three attack teams were going through a last check of their equipment as we pulled up. Larry hopped out even before the jeep had finished rolling to a stop. "Only three torches-" he called. "There's too much fire danger. We'll use the bazookas-"

Duke poked me. "Let's talk to Ginny."

I followed him to the command tent, where a 3-D map of the valley was displayed across the situation table. He nodded perfunctory greetings to the watch officers and tossed his pack to one side. "All right, let's get to work." He stepped up to the table and picked up a light pen. He drew a red target circle in the large clearing next to the dome. "That's where I want to put the team."

Captain MacDonald stepped up to the table opposite Duke and frowned. Her white hair was pulled back into a crisp military bun. She wore a tight jacket, trousers, a sidearm and a stern expression. She pointed. "I've got fifteen knots of wind coming from the southeast. It's going to be tight."

Duke dialed down the magnification. The image shrank as if it were dropping away. The tabletop now included several square miles of surrounding mountains. "I got that. And we need thirty seconds over the landing site." He pointed at the now reduced red target circle. "Can we do it with the engines off?"

Ginny closed her eyes and thought a moment. She said, "Tricky. . ." She typed something into the keyboard and studied the monitor. "Looks like a split-second drop. Your men are going to have to take their cues from the box-"

She stopped and looked at us. "I can't promise to do it with the engines off. I can promise to give you forty-five seconds over the target site-and I'll keep the engines off as long as possible."

Duke didn't look happy. "There's a real potential for disaster here." He turned to me. "Jim, I don't want anyone dropping in the water. And I don't want anyone dropping too near the dome. Can we trust your team?"

"We'll hit our marks."

"Can I count on it?"

"I'm the one taking the biggest risk." I met his eyes. "You can count on me."

"All right." Duke turned back to the display. He dialed the image up to maximum and centered it on the dome. "What does that look like to you?"

I checked the scale indicator at the edge of the table. "It's too big. How old is this picture?"

Ginny looked at the monitor on her side of the table. "Eighteen hours. This is yesterday afternoon."