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By Root 893 0

drone had begun life as just that, a miniature jet aircraft whose mission was to die gloriously at the hands of a fighter pilot - except that the sergeant had never quite seen things that way. He was a drone controller, and his job, he thought, was to teach those strutting eagles a lesson by flying 'his' bird in such a way as to make their missiles hit nothing more substantial than air. In fact, fighter pilots had learned to curse his name, though Air Force etiquette also required them to buy him a bottle of booze for every miss. Then a few years earlier someone had noted that if a Firebee drone was hard for our people to hit, the same might be true of others who fired at aircraft for more serious purposes than the annual William Tell competition. It was also a hell of a lot easier on the crews of low-level reconnaissance aircraft.

Cody-193's engine was turning at full power, hanging from its pylon and actually giving the mother aircraft a few knots of free airspeed. The sergeant gave it a final look before turning back to his instruments. Sixty-one small parachute symbols were painted on the left side just forward of the wing, and with luck, in a few days he would paint a sixty-second. Though he was not clear on the precise nature of this mission, merely beating the competition was reason enough to take the utmost care in preparing his personal toy for the current game.

'Be careful, baby,' the sergeant breathed as it dropped free. Cody-193 was on its own.

Sarah had a light dinner cooking. Kelly smelled it even before opening the door. Kelly came inside to see Rosen sitting in the living room.

'Where's Pam?'

'We gave her some medication,' Sam answered. 'She ought to be sleeping now.'

'She is,' Sarah confirmed, passing through the room on the way to the kitchen. 'I just checked. Poor thing, she's exhausted, she's been doing without sleep for some time. It's catching up with her.'

'But if she's been taking sleeping pills -'

'John, your body reacts strangely to the things,' Sam explained. 'It fights them off, or tries to, at the same time it becomes dependent on them. Sleep will be her big problem for a while.'

'There's something else,' Sarah reported. 'She's very frightened of something, but she wouldn't say what it was.' She paused, then decided that Kelly ought to know. 'She's been abused, John. I didn't ask about it - one thing at a time - but somebody's given her a rough time.'

'Oh?' Kelly looked up from the sofa. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean she's been sexually assaulted,' Sarah said in a calm, professional voice that belied her personal feelings.

'You mean raped?' Kelly asked in a low voice while the muscles of his arms tensed.

Sarah nodded, unable now to hide her distaste. 'Almost certainly. Probably more than once. There is also evidence of physical abuse on her back and buttocks.'

'I didn't notice.'

'You're not a doctor,' Sarah pointed out. 'How did you meet?'

Kelly told her, remembering the look in Pam's eyes and knowing now what it must have been from. Why hadn't he noticed it? Why hadn't he noticed a lot of things? Kelly raged.

'So she was trying to escape ... I wonder if the same man got her on the barbiturates?' Sarah asked. 'Nice guy, whoever it was.'

'You mean that somebody's been working her over, and got her on drugs?' Kelly said. 'But why?'

'Kelly, please don't take this wrong ... but she might have been a prostitute. Pimps control girls that way.' Sarah Rosen hated herself for saying that, but this was business and Kelly had to know. 'She's young, pretty, a runaway from a dysfunctional family. The physical abuse, the undernourishment, it all fits the pattern.'

Kelly was looking down at the floor. 'But she's not like that. I don't understand.' But in some ways he did, he told himself, thinking back. The ways in which she'd clung to him and drawn him to her. How much was simply skill, and how much real human feelings? It was a question he had no desire to face. What was the right thing to do? Follow your mind? Follow your heart? And where might they lead?

'She's fighting back, John. She's