I Am Automaton: A Military Science Fiction Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

That’s what you’re here for, Peter. You can’t do this alone.”
    Peter nodded silently.
    “Peter, the Chinese have a saying: ‘In every crisis there is danger and opportunity.’ The danger is that you’re too traumatized by what happened in Tijuana and you’ll wash out, but there’s an opportunity. Deal with you grief, your guilt, and your loss and return to Mexico wiser from experience.”
    She hesitated, choosing her next words cautiously. “And this new program is like nothing anyone’s ever seen before. It needs competent leadership. It needs you, Peter.”
    “I understand.”
    She sized him up for a moment, registering his sincerity, but she wondered if he had the will. They would both find out soon enough.
    “I think that’s enough for today, Peter. We’ll meet again next week. We have a lot of work to do.”
    “Yes, I suppose we do.”
    “By the way—standard question—I don’t have to worry about you hurting yourself or anyone else, do I?”
    “Just the Navajas.”
    “Good. See you next week.”
    He stood and saluted, and she dismissed him. He left and the digital curtains and paintings from his youth switched off. After he left her office, she sighed heavily and opened his file. Before she registered her session note, she dialed Major Lewis.
    “Hello, Major.”
    “Did you see Sergeant Birdsall?”
    “Yes, we just concluded our first session.”
    “So, what do you think? Is he ready?”
    She paused. “No, he’s not ready yet, sir.”
    “How long?”
    “I’m not sure how long, if ever.”
    “You’ll keep me abreast of his progress?” It was an order more than a question.
    “Of course, Major.”
    “It is important that he get back on the horse. If not, he’ll wash out.”
    “I understand, sir.”
    “Good day, Captain.”
    She hung up the phone and stared into thin air, lost in her thoughts for a moment. Rehabilitation of Sergeant Birdsall was certainly possible. Soldiers in combat situations had to deal with trauma and loss all of the time.
    Part of her worried about what she was preparing him for. Sending this man into the ID Program was like sending a snowball careening into hell. If he wanted back in, he would get it. However, at what cost to him?
    She had to follow orders. Besides, he wouldn’t be compelled to join the program. He could always be reassigned, but she saw that look in his eyes. He would not give up. He would not quit. She was a good enough judge of character to know that he would pursue this to the end.
    She picked up her pen, began to compose her analysis, and she registered her first session note with Sergeant Peter Birdsall.
     
    ***
     
    The next few months , Peter faithfully attended his physical therapy sessions, and his perseverance paid off. His injuries were minimal given the situation, and he progressed rapidly.
    His psychotherapy with Captain London was also going well. She had a practice of cutting through the garbage and addressing things head on, and he respected that.
    They had discussed his relationships with each of his men, his guilt, and his anger. He was beginning to find some closure about what had happened in Tijuana.
    She had taught him how to compartmentalize his feelings and memories about what had transpired. She taught him the Buddhist philosophy towards loss—that in death people gave back that which never belonged to them in the first place.
    She talked about entanglements, and how worrying about loss would cause a self-fulfilling prophecy in combat. He learned to let go of worry about dying and focus on staying alive.
    Captain London had his file open in front of her on her desk. He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, Doc…what do you think?”
    “Well, Peter, you’ve made significant strides in our sessions together. You managed your grief; you confronted your guilt…”
    “ And…”
    “And, I’ll be recommending you for the ID Program.”
    Peter jumped up so quickly that he startled her. He shook her hand