Strike Zone. Dale Brown
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not going to my quarters. Take me to the commander’s office.’
‘The Taj?’
‘Young man, if you don’t know where the commander’s office is, why were you assigned as my driver?’
‘Um, I do know, ma’am. I mean, uh –’
He tried to open the door for her but she was too annoyed to allow it.
Dreamland had a certain reputation back East. Obviously it was overinflated.
The airman got into the truck and began driving away from the Dolphin portal.
‘The Taj? As in the Taj Mahal?’ said Cortend, suddenly understanding what the airman had said.
‘Well, uh, yes, ma’am. Officially, it’s Administrative Building Two, but uh, everyone just kinda calls it the Taj.’
‘Everyone except me. Take me there,’ said Cortend.
***
‘Come,’ said Dog, hearing the knock on his door. Thinking it was Ax or maybe one of the scientists, he continued scribbling the last thread of his thoughts about the project he’d just reviewed. It involved further testing of a space-based laser weapon; while Dog was all for the weapon, the tests would cost several hundred million dollars at least, money that he frankly thought would be better spent on next-generation UAVs. But that wasn’t his call; he said the tests were a reasonable step if money could be found.
‘Lieutenant Colonel Bastian.’
Dog put down the pen. Colonel Cortend was standing in the doorway; the sergeant assigned as her escort shifted nervously behind her.
‘Colonel Cortend,’ Dog said, rising. ‘Welcome to Dreamland.’
Cortend stood in the doorway, frowning. The frown deepened as he extended his hand; she looked at it as if it contained a dead fish, then extended her own. She grabbed about halfway and squeezed – an old Pentagon trick, Dog knew, to make a firm grasp seem life-threatening.
Frankly, Cortend didn’t look as if she needed any tricks. She had shoulders that would cow an NFL linebacker.
‘Are your quarters satisfactory?’ said Dog, trying to break the ice as Cortend surveyed the boat of a desk and the matching cherry bookcases that graced his office. He’d inherited the furniture from General Elliott, who had paid for it himself.
‘I expect they will be,’ said Cortend.
The frost in her voice removed any last doubt Dog might have had about how pleasant the colonel’s stay might be. He put on his Pentagon face and told her that she was welcome to go where she wanted, and that everyone at the base would fully cooperate in any way possible.
Cortend’s scowl deepened. ‘I’ll see the computer labs and the Flighthawk hangar first. Then I want an office. My staff will be arriving at 0800.’
It was rather late for a tour, but Dog didn’t bother arguing with her. ‘Security detail will take you around. Chief Gibbs has already set everything up and will personally make sure that you’re squared away in the morning. We’ve allocated a pair of rooms on the first level of the building. There’s a conference room as well. The chief has a handle on the badges, phones, computers, everything you need. Ax is really incredible. You’ll be impressed.’
‘Ax?’
‘That would be Chief Gibbs. One of the best, believe me.’
Dog ignored her scowl and rose, intending that as her cue to clear out. She didn’t take it.
‘I’m afraid I’ve been away,’ said Dog. ‘And I have a few things to attend to before turning in.’
‘I see.’ Cortend frowned, but didn’t move as Dog sat back down.
‘Colonel?’ he asked.
‘Are you going to get this Chief Ax, or should I locate him myself?’
‘Uh, it’s a little late in the day –’
‘You, Lieutenant Colonel, are working. Why is your staff not?’
Dog stifled his instinctive response, trying to turn it into a joke. ‘I don’t like paying overtime,’ he told her.
‘Hmph,’ said Cortend.
‘Would you like some advice?’ Dog asked. He ignored her frown and continued anyway. ‘You have to remember, Colonel, Dreamland is not like most other military commands. There are a lot of civilians here. A lot of scientist types. And we don’t have the sort of bureaucratic infrastructure that a lot of the military has. I’m not critcizing other commands at all; I’d love the personnel slots, believe me. But we’re a bit different. And because of that, the atmosphere takes a little getting used to.’
‘You seem to have adjusted.’
‘You mean that as a compliment or a criticism?’
Dog had controlled his temper for a remarkably long time, but the implied slur on the people who worked for him was simply too much.
‘Take it as you wish,’ said Colonel Cortend, not giving an inch. ‘Now let me give you some advice, Lieutenant Colonel. I’m here informally, but if anyone interferes with my work – you especially –’
Dog’s anger had built to such a level that even he would have been unable to stifle an outburst had the phone not rung.
‘I’m afraid I have to take this behind closed doors. The security detail will see to your needs,’ he told Cortend, struggling to keep his voice neutral. ‘The sergeant will give you access to your quarters and to your office; the phone lines, computers, they’re all ready to go. Believe me, when Chief Gibbs sets something up, it works. And that goes for everyone here. Now you’ll have to excuse me.’
Cortend frowned, but stepped into the outer office, closing the door behind her.
‘Bastian,’ said Dog, picking up the encrypted phone.
‘Colonel, it’s Jed Barclay. Stand by for the President.’
President Kevin Martindale’s voice practically jumped through the phone when the connection finally went through.
‘Tecumseh, I’m sorry I couldn’t come out there myself for your ceremony.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You did a fine job in the Pacific. A very good job. The Navy’s jealous. You should see Admiral Balboa. Just about apoplectic’ The President laughed, but his tone changed quickly. ‘We’ve spent a bit of time reviewing the situation in South Asia. The consensus seems to be that the Chinese will leave the Indians alone for a while.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Makes two of us, Tecumseh. Now tell me about the Flighthawk you discovered. Whose is it?’
‘Sir, we’re not sure it’s a Flighthawk. We have only a few seconds’ worth of intercepts and a minuscule amount of radar on it. But it’s highly capable, probably as advanced as our own aircraft.’
‘I understand there’s some sort of computer coding that is the same?’
Dog gave the President a brief overview of the latest analysis. ‘Very similar,’ he concluded. There was no sense being anything less than candid.
The President said nothing for a few moments. ‘I’m also told that there’s a chance that your gear was mistaken. The information came from the aircraft that was shot down.’
‘Yes, sir. But we believe the data was very good.’
‘How is your daughter?’ asked the President, changing the subject.
‘She’s doing very well. Should be out of the hospital any day now.’
‘If