but could obviously be opened. Kelly felt sure that someone was standing just beyond the door listening and perhaps peering through a crack. “This is Lieutenant Kira Kelly,” the physician said loudly. “I’m a navy doctor. . . . You don’t trust the Seebos, and I understand that. But it doesn’t alter the fact that we have a wounded man out here—and he’s going to die unless you let us in! So, here’s what I propose. . . . Colonel Six and three of his men will offer themselves up as hostages against the good behavior of everyone else. Then, when the Seebos are ready to leave, you’ll let them go.”
“What?” Six objected. “I never agreed to that!”
“No,” Kelly said reasonably, as she turned to look at him.
“But you should. . . . Unless you want Three-Three to die.”
“Damn you!” Six said fervently. “I should never have brought you!”
“On that we can agree,” the doctor said sweetly. “So what’s your answer? Yes? Or no?”
“Yes, blast you,” the Seebo said disgustedly. “Did you hear that?” Kelly inquired, as she turned back toward the door. “The offer stands.”
There was a long pause, as if some sort of debate might be taking place within. Then came a clang as the smaller portal opened, and a bland-faced Fisk appeared. “Tell the hostages to put their hands on top of their heads,” the anarchist said brusquely. “And no funny business.”
The larger door opened moments later and was quickly slammed shut after Six and three of his Seebos went inside. A long, agonizing fi?ve minutes passed before the door swung open for a second time. A Fisk armed with a submachine gun motioned for them to enter. “There’s a room down the hall on the right. All weapons must be placed there, but two Seebos can stay to monitor them.”
Kelly looked at Lieutenant-790,444, who nodded in agreement. “Okay,” the doctor said as she turned back toward the door. “It will be as you say.”
“Good,” the Fisk said. “Welcome to the Sanctuary.”
The Forerunner complex was so huge that the approximately fi?ve hundred clones who had taken refuge in it occupied less than 5 percent of the available space. But given the bitterly cold weather, there was no incentive to spread out since doing so would require more fuel for the makeshift fi?replaces.
There was no heat source in the cell-like room that Six had been placed in, however. Just a built-in bench made out of the same material as the butte itself. So the Seebo was sitting on the bench, huddled inside his sleeping bag, when he heard the sound of voices. The door rattled and opened to admit Kelly. She was holding a brown ceramic bowl, a spoon, and a tubby thermos bottle. Even though Kelly was a bit grubby, and clearly tired, she was still beautiful. That’s what Six thought anyway, as one of guards pulled the door closed, and Kelly presented him with the bowl. “Here, hold on to that while I serve you some soup. It’s actually quite good.”
Six held the bowl with both hands while the doctor opened the thermos and poured a generous serving of chunky soup into the waiting container. It was steaming hot, and the rich odor made Six realize how hungry he really was. “Dig in,” Kelly said understandingly. “And have some of this.” So saying, Kelly removed a big chunk of crusty bread from a cargo pocket and brushed some lint off it. “Sorry,” she said.
“Bon appetit!”
Six said, “Thank you,” as he accepted the bread. “For the food and for coming. How is Three-Three?”
“He’s going to be fi?ne,” Kelly assured him, as she took a seat on the other end of the bench. “We reinfl?ated his lung, closed his wounds, and gave him a broad-spectrum antibiotic. The Ortov boy is doing well, too. . . . Although it’s going to take him some time to recover.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Six said, as he paused between spoonfuls. “So what’s going on?” he wanted to know. “Will the rebels let us leave? Or was that a lie?”
“The sooner the better is the impression I get,” Kelly responded. “I know very little about Hegemony politics, but if I understand correctly, the revolutionaries want to overthrow the Alpha Clones in favor of a democracy. And they see the Seebo line as part of the problem.”
“They’re wrong,” Six said sternly. “Dr. Hosokowa’s plan is perfect. All we need to do is follow it.”
“Well, it’s good to see that you have an open mind,” Kelly replied lightly. “No wonder they want to get rid of you!”
“They’re free breeders,” Six said accusingly. “And there’s no place for free-breeder children in the plan! So what they want won’t work.”
“It will if you change plans,” Kelly said mildly, as she came to her feet. “And let people be whatever they want to be. Or are capable of being. My father is an accountant, my mother is a teacher, and I’m a doctor. That may not be all neat and tidy, but it works! Sorry,” she said, “but they want me to return the bowl.”
Six gave her the bowl but kept what remained of the bread. “Tell me something. . . .”
Kelly raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“In your society, where people choose each other, can a soldier be with a doctor?”
Suddenly Kelly knew something she should have understood all along. In spite of all his straightlaced posturing, the Seebo was as horny as all the other men she knew, but he felt guilty about it! The schoolboy crush might have been endearing except that she had been abducted. Yet where was her anger? And why had she come to visit him? She felt guilty, confused, and strangely compassionate all at the same time. “Yes,” she answered soberly. “A soldier can be with a doctor. But only if both people want to be together.” And with that she left.
Kira Kelly was thousands of light-years away, sailing her father’s boat across a sparkling lake, when a hand shook her shoulder. “Wake up,” Six said urgently. “Get dressed! We have to leave.”
Kelly looked at her watch and groaned. It was 0126.
“Why? It’s dark outside.”
“Because a battalion of Seebos is trying to get in! I’m not sure yet, but it’s my guess that at least one of the radios we stole has a tracking device in it, which revealed our location. The rebels claim that government forces want to arrest me.”
