Strike Force

“I’m already on it, Muck,” Dave Luger, seated beside Patrick, said breathlessly. “My God…how could they have rebuilt that facility without us knowing about it?”

“We thought the Russians were knocked on their asses following our bomber attacks,” Patrick said. “We got too overconfident. Plus we were too concerned about rebuilding our own strategic military forces to watch over them. We never thought of looking at the Russian Far East — we thought they’d be concentrating on shoring up their military forces in the West.”

“You forgot one thing, sir — you were just too damned cocky to pay attention to anything else but your own pet projects,” Tehama interjected acidly.

Dave Luger’s eyes bulged first in surprise, then in sheer anger. “As you were, Colonel!” he snapped.

Patrick showed little reaction to Tehama’s comments. “I heard you got an assignment, Colonel,” he commented.

“I finished outprocessing just now,” Tehama said. “Since you showed up I haven’t had much to do, so I thought I’d put in a few phone calls and redeem a few favors. I report to my new assignment next week.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine…wherever it is you’re going,” Patrick said. He briefly looked up from his console, saw the expression on Tehama’s face, and shook his head. “But you are just dying to tell me something first, aren’t you?”

Tehama glanced quickly at McLanahan, then caged his eyes away again. “I’ll save it for my report to General Edgewater at Materiel Command. But I did want to advise you that I will make it clear that you diverted that Black Stallion flight against all established HAWC directives about overflying hostile territory, and that you did so against my advice and without my authorization.”

“Noted.”

Tehama glanced at McLanahan in disbelief. “General, what’s with you?” he asked finally. “You risked those men’s lives for no reason. I don’t get it.”

“The reason you don’t ‘get it,’ Colonel, is the reason you’re leaving here today.”

“I don’t understand it…I don’t understand you…any of you,” Tehama sputtered. “Do the lives of these men mean so little to you?”

“I don’t think this is the time to discuss this…”

“No, go ahead, General — I’ve got time,” Tehama said. “Explain it to me. It might help me make some sense of the twisted mind-boggling bullshit atmosphere you’ve created in this place and in these people.” He motioned around the room. “What is all this? You have a battle staff area at Dreamland. What’s up with that? We’re a research base, for God’s sake — except the planes are never around long enough to do any research on them because you or someone under you keeps on requisitioning them. Our budget is blown all to hell with your secret operations. Now one of our most classified, highest priority, most expensive aircraft has been hit by a Russian laser, and with good reason — you authorized them to fly over hostile airspace! Do you want to get those men killed?”

“Colonel, if you don’t get it after being here for three years, you never will,” Patrick said. “You’re dismissed.” It was obvious that Tehama really, really wanted to tell Patrick off, but he snapped to attention, then turned on a heel and exited the room.

“Can you believe the balls on that guy, mouthing off like that?” Dave Luger asked.

“There’s only one reason he’d have the guts to do that — his new boss has more than three stars,” Patrick said.

“Hal can find out who that is in no time.”

“It’ll be easier to just assume he’s been reporting on our activities to our biggest opponents…”

“SECDEF and Senator Barbeau, among many others.”

“Might not be enough to get him in legal trouble,” Patrick said, “but enough to fill in the details to any bureaucrat or politician who doesn’t have the entire picture on what we do at Dreamland.” He thought for a moment, then nodded to Dave. “Have Hal find out anyway.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Dave said with a smile.

THE WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM,

WASHINGTON, D.C.

A SHORT TIME LATER