Strike Force

That seemed to change Charlie’s attitude. “Frankly, sir, I’d rather the CIDs stayed in storage than have anyone else messing with them,” she said. “I’ll listen to General Briggs…I can’t promise you anything else.”

“I’ll tell you right now up front, it’s not the kind of posting you can just walk away from in a year or two,” Patrick warned her. “It’s one of those lifelong commitments that go way beyond just getting a security clearance and special access. It’s intense. It’ll affect you and everyone you come in contact with for the rest of your life.”

Charlie smiled a tomboyish, mischievous grin at that last statement. “If that was meant to talk me out of it, sir, it failed,” she said. “I’ll make up my mind after I talk with General Briggs, but I think I’ll do just fine here.”

“Good,” Patrick said. “I’ll need your CIDs up and running as soon as possible.”

“Meaning…?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I haven’t even agreed to come here yet!”

“You’ll find that everything we do here at Dreamland needs to be done by tomorrow…or, better, later the same day, Captain,” Dave Luger said seriously. “But we have a lot of tools and gadgets of our own that help facilitate that.”

That seemed to pique Turlock’s interest even more. “Yes, sir,” was all she could say.

“We’re pretty informal around here, Charlie,” Patrick said. “The uniform of the day is always utility uniform; your work hours are your own; we keep mandatory formations, inspections, and functions to a bare minimum except for security purposes. Most of all, we encourage thinking outside the box, and we do everything we can to get you what you need or want. No request or idea is too outlandish — tell us what you want to do and we’ll move mountains to get it for you. Literally.”

Charlie looked at each of the men around her — from the scowling, impatient, pent-up energy of the Marine Corps master sergeant to the smiling, animated one-star general that brought him here, to the infamous three-star general leading this group — and liked what she saw. The Army was always so serious and regimented, and these guys were a definite departure from that. “Let me see the CID units, sir,” she said, “and I’ll tell you how soon I can get them ready for action.”

“Excellent,” Patrick said. He shook Charlie’s hand again. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll need volunteers to pilot the CIDs.”

“Count me out,” Chris Wohl growled.

“You’re too tall anyway, Master Sergeant,” Charlie said. Wohl nodded imperceptibly — that seemed to suit him just fine.

“I’ll be the first volunteer,” Hal said. “I’ve wanted to check one out ever since I saw ’em on TV. I think we’ll have plenty of volunteers for the other units. BERP is good, but I think CIDs are way cooler.”

“On your way, Captain,” Patrick said. “Hal, report back in one hour and let me know what we’re looking at. Let Dave know if you’re having any trouble detaching Charlie from the Guard.”

“You got it.”

Patrick could see Charlie shaking her head in amazement and excitement at the whirlwind of activity and the close personal camaraderie that existed in this place — he knew that she knew she was signing onto something truly extraordinary. “That’s the expression I like seeing in the newcomer’s faces around here,” he said to Dave Luger as she was led away.

“Sorry I didn’t brief you on her, Muck,” Dave said. “I should have known Hal wouldn’t have told you — he’d want to see your expression.” He noticed Patrick looking in the direction she and Hal had gone. “What do you think, Muck?”

“‘Think’? About what? About Turlock? She hasn’t done anything yet. Her record is impressive, and if that robot thing is half of what it’s cracked up to be…”

“No, I mean…”

“Mean what, Dave?” Patrick admonished his friend, perhaps a little more harshly than he wanted. He scowled first at Dave, then at himself when he realized he was still standing and still turned in the direction she had left. “We’ll need to get those robot things ready to go ASAP,” he said gruffly as he took his seat again. “From what Hal said, those robots take up a lot of room, even folded up, and they’re way too big to be worn while inside the Black Stallion’s passenger module. We’ll need spacesuits for whoever rides in the passenger modules that will be piloting the CIDs. We’ll need those right away.”

“No problem,” Dave said. “But we may not get clearance to go in to look for missiles for a few days.”

“I want to go in tomorrow, as soon as we’ve installed the thermal blanketing in the modules.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I thought you just told the captain that we always want things done tomorrow!” Patrick said with a smile. “Well, you were absolutely right.”

“Where do you want to take the Black Stallions, Muck?”

“I want a ground force to go into Turkmenistan, rescue this princess, turn her over to her followers, then travel into Iran with her and stand by to move against the Iranian missile sites.”