Satan’s Tail. Dale Brown
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over Piranha? How? That’s a Navy project.’
‘I don’t mean taking it over, exactly. I’m, you know, liaisoning. So I’m getting up to speed.’
Rubeo’s frown deepened. Mack ignored it.
‘I was looking at the reports and it seems to me there’s one constant. You need more people.’
‘I would say that is a constant, yes.’
‘So the first thing we have to do is get you more people.’
‘And?’
This was not exactly the response Mack had anticipated. While he knew that the scientist didn’t have it in him to jump up and down in thanks, he had hoped that by acknowledging that the staff was overworked he might show from the start that he was on the team’s side. This, of course, would pay dividends down the line, when he had to pressure them for more results.
‘And I’m going to try to get you more people.’
‘Thank you, Major,’ said Rubeo, in a tone that suggested thanks was the last thing he had on his mind. The scientist started to walk from the room.
‘Hey, Doc, where are you going?’
‘Was there something else?’
‘I thought maybe you could run down where we were with some of the related programs. It seems to me that the real potential here –’
‘You haven’t been given the reports?’
‘What’re these tactical UAV things, the Littoral Combat Intrinsic Air Multiplier Systems? Now those are pretty interesting.’
‘Piffle,’ said Rubeo.
‘Piffle?’
‘A worthless Navy project. We’re not involved. They want to run the tests here – assuming they ever get the project out of their CAD programs.’ Rubeo wrinkled his nose, as if he’d caught a whiff of sulfur. ‘You might try informing them that there’s very little water in the middle of the Nevada desert.’
‘I thought they were just adaptations of the unmanned helicopter system,’ said Mack. ‘I thought the project only got bagged because of the budget.’
‘UHS was a Dreamland project, that is correct,’ said the scientist, referring to the program by its initials. ‘This is different. If the Navy would deign to use a design that was originally done for the Army – as UHS was – then there would be no problem.’
‘They won’t use it?’
Rubeo rolled his eyes.
‘These Navy things look like the Werewolves,’ said Mack.
‘Hardly. The Werewolf works.’
Rubeo started away. Mack wheeled forward and grabbed his shirtsleeve.
‘What about the Integrated Warfare Computing System?’ asked Mack. ‘It’s already installed in their littoral combat ships. We have some interfaces for it.’
The scientist snorted.
‘Problems?’ asked Mack.
‘The Navy’s computer code reminds me of the programs that were part of the TRS-80,’ said Rubeo. ‘Without the benefit of being compact.’
‘I assume that’s some sort of put-down, right?’
‘The TRS-80 was a Radio Shack computer dating from the 1970s. Yes, Major, it was a put-down. We have interfaces, though to be honest, why anyone would want to use them is beyond me. Their systems crash every eighteen to twenty-four hours.’
‘So why don’t they just bag the crappy computer and use one of ours? Or even something off-the-shelf?’
‘You haven’t dealt with the Navy much, have you?’
‘I’ll just straighten them out, then.’
A faint glimmer of a smile came to Rubeo’s lips. ‘I hope you do, Major. Can I go now?’
‘Sure,’ said Mack. ‘We should have lunch sometime. I really want to get to know you better.’
‘Yes,’ said Rubeo, leaving.
McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas 1630
Captain Danny Freah walked past the row of video slot machines and turned left into the large baggage claim area. The flight from New York had landed a few minutes ago, and passengers were just starting to filter in. As Danny walked toward the carousel, a short man in a gray suit approached him from the side.
‘You’re Captain Freah, I’ll bet,’ said the man.
‘Danny Freah, yes,’ said Freah. ‘Lee?’
‘That’s me,’ said the man, Lee Rosenstein, pumping Danny’s hand. ‘I thought you’d be in uniform.’
‘I’m off-duty,’ Danny told him.
‘Well, good. You deserve some time off after all you’ve been through,’ said Rosenstein. ‘Let me just grab my suiter. I see it coming around the bend.’
Rosenstein darted toward an opening in the crowd and grabbed a black suitcase with a multicolored twist of yarn around the handle.
‘Clever,’ said Danny, pointing at the identifier as they walked toward the exit.
‘Until it falls off,’ said Rosenstein. ‘Usually I get to carry it on, but the gate person couldn’t be bribed.’
He smiled, which Danny figured meant he was kidding about the bribe. Without breaking stride, Rosenstein reached to the outer pocket of the suitcase, zipped it open, and retrieved a Mets cap, plopping it on his head. It clashed a bit with the black suit.
‘Been a while since I was in Vegas,’ added Rosenstein as they reached the hallway. ‘Not since March or April.’
‘I took a taxi. They’re this way,’ said Danny. Rosenstein had already started to the right, where a line snaked around a set of ribbons on the sidewalk.
‘Man, it’s beautiful weather. Was raining and about thirty-six when I left New York this afternoon.’
‘It’s a little warm for this time of year,’ said Danny.
‘Let’s go right to Venezia,’ suggested Rosenstein. ‘I’ll check in, then we’ll catch some dinner.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘I was thinking of Delaman’s to eat. Supposed to be the best restaurant between San Francisco and New York,’ said Rosenstein. ‘I don’t know if that’s true, but the last time I was there it was pretty good. Hey, don’t worry about paying, Captain – this is on my dime.’
‘I wasn’t worried,’ said Danny. He wouldn’t have known Delaman’s from a diner, but now felt embarrassed at the other man’s suggestion that he would pay. ‘We’ll go fifty-fifty.’
‘First thing you have to learn as a candidate for Congress,’ said Rosenstein, ‘is when to let other people pay for your dinner and when not. This is a time you let other people pay. Enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘I don’t know that I’m running for Congress,’ said Danny.
‘Everybody says that.’ Rosenstein smiled. ‘All the more reason to let me pay.’
Dreamland 1713
Zen hunched over the control panel, watching the computer simulation of the small aircraft’s maneuvers as it ran through a mock bombing run. Flown entirely by the computer, the aircraft