Strike Force

“As soon as we make contact with Buzhazi or whoever’s in charge out there, we’ll make sure we expect them to locate Lefferts and our equipment and turn them over to us immediately — it’s the least they can do for all the blood and treasure we spent helping them,” the President said. Patrick nodded but said nothing. “Sorry if that’s not the answer you’re looking for, Patrick, but I think we need to back off so hopefully things will simmer down out there.” The President turned to the Secretary of Defense. “Joe, I think the Air Force and Navy can keep an eye on things out there — from a distance, a great distance. I want to send McLanahan’s boys back to their sandbox.”

“We certainly can, Mr. President,” Secretary of Defense Gardner said. “I’ll brief you and General Sparks on my plan later on this morning.”

“Thank you.” The President turned to Patrick once again. “Sorry about your loss, Patrick. Briggs was with you almost from the beginning, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, he was. He was a good friend and a real asset to everyone at Dreamland and Battle Mountain.”

“I’m sorry about the loss of the second spaceplane, too,” the President said. “But your losses take nothing away from the job your people did over Iran. I want you to pass along my congratulations and sincerest thanks to everyone out there in Nevada. They took on a hard job and did brilliantly.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. President, thank you,” Patrick said. “But I still want to address the future long-range strike mission. I still believe space is the answer, and I’d like to…”

“Hold on, Patrick, hold on,” the President said. “I need a little time to recover from the fight, and I want to get the thoughts and reports from everyone before I put the topic of the long-range strike fleet back on the front burner. Your spaceplanes did well, Patrick, but we still lost two-thirds of the fleet in battle. We have to be ready to explain why before Congress will authorize us to build more of them.”

“Frankly, General, I’d say your modified B-1 and B-52 bombers and those CID robots did exceptionally well out there,” Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman General William Glenbrook commented. “Maybe you should be looking at building up a force of those things instead.”

“The small satellite fleet and that resurrected space station did well too,” National Security Adviser Jonas Sparks added. “I liked sitting in my office and listening in and watching the battle take place on my computer screen. Your spaceplanes are good, General, but they’re too high-tech for my taste.”

“Maybe when us old farts are out of the way you can sell them, Patrick,” the President said, “but as long as our generation is in charge, I think we’ll have to find something else to fly. But I want everyone’s reports first and then we’ll reopen this discussion. Anything else?” He didn’t wait for a response, but got to his feet, prompting everyone else to rise. “Thank you all very much.”

As usual, the Vice President and Chief of Staff hung back as everyone else lined up to leave. The President shook hands with everyone as they departed; Patrick, being the youngest and lowest-ranking staffer, went last. After he shook hands with him, the President said, “I’m sending you back to Dreamland, Patrick. I spoke with the staff, and the bottom line is that you made too many folks look bad and stepped on too many toes, to put it mildly, for there to be a suitable work environment here, even with you in the basement. I don’t expect you to stay out of trouble out there, but until January twentieth, try to keep me informed of things before you proceed to set the world on fire, okay?”

“Of course, Mr. President. Thank you.”

“I hope your son and the ticker are doing okay. Take care of them both.”

“I will, sir.” The President turned to Carl Minden, indicating he was done with Patrick; he purposely also did not turn to the Vice President, leaving her free to depart as well, which she did.

The Vice President and Patrick walked together without speaking until they reached her office and closed the door. She walked over to her chair in the meeting area in the center of the office, but Patrick did not follow her there. “Patrick, I’m sorry about Hal,” she said. “I liked him. He was a good guy. I want to be there for his service.”

“Of course. Thank you. It’ll be held at HAWC.”

“With Elliott and all the other heroes from that place. Good. That’s appropriate.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “So you’ll be heading back to Dreamland. When will you be back?”

“I won’t be back, Maureen.”

She looked unhappy and a little embarrassed, but not surprised. She lowered her head. “How did you find out?”

“About you and Joe Gardner? Hal discovered it,” Patrick said. “He investigated all the possible leaks from the White House and Pentagon to Senator Barbeau’s office. I thought it was Minden, but Hal knew it was you. I think he told me, but I didn’t — couldn’t — believe him.” He turned toward the door. “Good-bye, Miss Vice President. Have a nice day.”