A Time for Patriots

Both Patrick and Leo looked at the control tower in the distance, and they could clearly see alternating red and green laser light gun signals from the remote video-tower controllers, indicating “EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION.” “I see red and green light gun signals from the tower, sir,” Leo said. “Better stay away from the base.”

“With all the shit happening in Reno, I’m not surprised,” Andorsen said nonchalantly. He turned slightly east but was still going to break the ten-mile limit. “I can’t believe I’m flying with the Patrick McLanahan. How long have you been in the area, Patrick?”

“Almost six months on this posting,” Patrick said, carefully scanning the sky for aircraft and taking another nervous look back at the warning lights from the base. He knew Battle Mountain had very sophisticated air-defense weapons, but he wasn’t familiar with their status and guessed they had probably been deactivated when the drawdown began. “I spent two years here commanding the base previously.”

“You know about the underground hangar at the base, of course.”

“Of course.”

“My grandfather started that project, you know,” Andorsen said proudly, “and my father finished it. We’ve always been a family of miners — everyone in my family can work and live just as easily belowground as we do above. I was taken through the complex many times when I was a kid — of course, I was sworn to secrecy, and the threat of commies and saboteurs was so great back then that I was too scared to even think about talking about it to my friends. It was considered one of the eight technical marvels of the modern world back then.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I was first taken through it,” Patrick said. “It still amazes me that we can park B-52 bombers down there.”

“And what do you do now, Patrick?” Andorsen asked.

“Officially I’m a reserve Air Force lieutenant-general in command of the Space Defense Force,” Patrick replied, “although there really is no Space Defense Force and the planned upgrades to the space-defense systems have been put on hold. In actuality, I’m a caretaker. If a contingency takes place, I’m there to make sure that the place is ready to support aircraft and spacecraft operations when a real commander and battle staff arrive.”

Andorsen scowled at him. “You’re a caretaker ? You? Why aren’t you out there on the lecture circuit, or a consultant for some defense contractor? You could be pulling in some big bucks.”

“I might just do that later on,” Patrick said, “but if the Space Defense Force languishes in this recession, it might not survive when things recover. Someone needs to be the advocate. I’m happy to do it for my retirement pay.”

“You don’t even get paid

?” Andorsen asked incredulously. He shook his head. “How screwed up is that? General Patrick McLanahan, working for nothing ? Unbelievable.”

Andorsen continued to chat about landmarks and features of his expansive ranch, flying this way and that. Patrick listened, but in reality he was looking at the VHF radios, itching to switch one to the Battle Mountain control-tower frequency, Battle Mountain Approach Control, or the GUARD emergency channel. Andorsen had the radio set to some personal frequency that Patrick didn’t recognize.

“And this here is our Freedom-3 mine,” Andorsen went on. The mine was an immense open-pit area encompassing several hundred acres and several hundred feet deep. “My great-great-grandfather opened it way back after the turn of the century. He found mostly copper back then, but over the years we’ve found a little bit of everything there: silver, lead, bauxite, even a tiny bit of gold. Look there and you can see—”

Patrick couldn’t stand it any longer: “Judah, if you don’t mind, I’m going to flip your number two comm to GUARD,” he said as he switched radio frequencies and selected the proper button on the audio panel to monitor the frequency. “With all the stuff going on, I want to monitor GUARD. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, go ahead, set it for anything you want,” Andorsen said a bit perturbedly. “Just leave me comm one so I can talk to my boys if I need to.”

“You got it.” Patrick switched frequencies and hit the COM2 button on the audio panel, and immediately they heard, “… fifteen miles south of Joint Air Base Battle Mountain, warning, warning, you have violated controlled airspace during an air-defense emergency. Repeat, unidentified helicopter nine miles north of Joint Air Base Battle Mountain, you have violated controlled airspace during a national air-defense emergency. You are instructed to depart Class-C airspace immediately and contact Battle Mountain Approach immediately on GUARD or on one-two-six-point-four. Be advised, you may be intercepted and fired upon without warning if you remain in Class-C airspace. Unidentified helicopter, if you hear this message, respond immediately on any channel.”

“They’re talking about us!” Leo exclaimed.

“What in Sam Hill are they getting so wrapped around the axle about?” Andorsen exclaimed. “They know it’s me.”