"Watch yourself!" snapped Langsmith.
Speidel took two deep breaths, sank back.
They're insane, thought Francine. Insane and pushed into a corner. With that kind of fragmentation they could slip into catatonia or violence. She felt weak and afraid.
Others around the table had arisen. Two civilians moved up beside Francine. "Shall we lock her up, General?" asked one.
Speidel hesitated.
Langsmith spoke first: "No. Just keep her under very close surveillance. If we locked her up it would arouse questions that we don't want to answer."
Speidel glowered at Francine. "If you give us away, I'll have you shot!" He motioned to have her taken out of the room.
When she emerged from the headquarters building, Francine's mind still whirled. Lies! she thought. All lies!
She felt the omnipresent sand grate under her feet. Dust hazed the concourse between her position on the steps and the spaceship a hundred yards away. The morning sun already had burned off the night chill of the desert. Heat devils danced over the dun surface of the ship.