Dog laughed. “Maybe I am.”
“He’s just trying to prove he doesn’t have a problem with all generals,” said Danny.
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“Samson’s your boss now, Danny. And yours too, Zen,”
said Dog. While he didn’t like Samson, the hint of disrespect in their voices bothered him. “You better remember that.”
“I understand chain of command,” said Danny. “I have no problem with that.”
“It’s generals I don’t like,” said Zen.
“Then you better not become one,” snapped Dog.
He was still irritated when he reached the trailer. General Locusta stood there impatiently, waiting with a dozen aides.
The entire contingent started to follow him up the steps.
“The thing is, General, I’m not sure everybody is going to fit inside,” said Dog when he realized what was happening.
“I’d suggest that maybe you choose—”
“My aides will stay with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not counting the communications specialist in the back compartment, twelve people could fit in the trailer, but it was a squeeze. Sixteen was uncomfortably tight. Locusta had twenty men with him.
Worse, the trailer had only recently been powered up—which meant the environmental system hadn’t finished heating it. This wasn’t a problem at first, since the body heat from the crowd quickly raised the temperature. But then the system had to switch into cooling mode. It couldn’t react fast enough, and the small space overheated.
Dog tried to ignore the rising temperature. He concentrated on the paper map the general’s aides had spread on the table.
It showed the mountains and valley farm area to the south where the guerrillas had been operating. Filled with small agricultural communities, the area had been mostly peaceful since the end of World War II.
“Here is the pipeline,” said General Locusta, taking over the briefing. “The network runs through here, along this valley, then to the west. It must be protected at all costs. We have forward camps here, here, and here.”
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Locusta jabbed his finger at a succession of small red squares.
“These mountains here, 130 kilometers from the border—south of Bacau, where our main base is—that is where we have had the most trouble.”
“Where was the pipeline attacked the other day?” asked Danny.
“Here, west of Braila, south of Route 25.”
“That’s pretty far from where you say the guerillas have been operating.”
“I considered complaining to them,” said the general sar-castically.
The general’s brusque manner softened, but only slightly, as Danny explained how his ground team would train soldiers to act as forward air controllers, working with the Megafortress and Flighthawk crews. The Romanians, he said, would be in charge; the Dreamland people would work alongside them, taking the same risks.
When the general’s aides began making suggestions about how and where the training should be conducted, Dog noticed the corners of Locusta’s mouth sagging into a bored frown.
“General, why don’t you and I inspect some of the aircraft that will be available to support you?” he suggested. “We can let these men sort out the other issues and arrangements.”
“All right,” said Locusta, even though his frown deepened.
LOCUSTA’S APPREHENSION GREW AS THE AMERICAN
colonel showed off the Megafortress and its robot planes, the Flighthawks. He’d known the technology would be impressive, of course, but when he was shown a computer demonstration tape from an earlier mission, he was amazed by the ability of the radar to find ground forces and by the robot planes that would attack them. A Megafortress and two Flighthawks could do the work of an entire squadron of fighters.
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They were potent weapons, and could certainly help him fight the guerrillas. But they could also upset his plans to take over the country if he wasn’t careful.
“General, I’m looking forward to a strong working relationship,” Dog told him as they walked back to his car. Locusta’s aides were already waiting.
“Yes,” said Locusta. “Just remember, Colonel—you are here to assist us. Not take over.”
“I only want to help you.”
Locusta nodded, then got into the car.
Allegro, Nevada
0908
BREANNA PRACTICALLY LEAPED TO THE PHONE.
“Hello, hello,” she said.
“Hello, hello yourself,” said Zen.
His voice sounded tired and distant, but it was good to hear it anyway.
“Lover, how are you?” she asked.
“Missing you.”
“Mmmm. And I miss you.” She fell into the chair, closed her eyes and listened as her husband told her about his first day in Romania.
“We’re sleeping in a hangar, dormitory-style,” said Zen.
“Sully has the bunk next to me. And he snores.”
“Wish I could tuck you in.”
“Me too. The mayor came around a little while ago. He offered us a hotel, but Danny vetoed it. Security. He’s like a Mother Hen.”
“Danny’s only watching out for you.”
“He’s just being paranoid. The people have been pretty good. The commanding general is a hard case, but your father handled him perfectly. Aside from that, Romania is beautiful. It’s real peaceful. Mountains nearby, a lot of farms.”
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“You sound like a travelogue.”
“Beats the hell out of where we’ve been lately.”
“Thank God for that.”
Zen admitted that he might change his opinion as time went on, though only because she wasn’t there. He wouldn’t say anything directly about the mission because they were on an open line, but when he mentioned off-handedly that he’d be flying in the morning, she felt her heart jump a little.
“So what did you do today?” he asked finally.
“Zen, it’s barely past nine here. There’s a what, ten hour time difference?”
“Yeah. It’s 1912 here. But let me just guess,” he added.
“You’ve done your workout, vacuumed, straightened out the kitchen, and had about four cups of coffee.”
“Five. I also did the laundry.”
Zen laughed. “How’s your knee?”
“Pretty solid. I’m up to the third bar of resistance on the machine.”
“I’m glad the doctor told you to take it easy.”
“I don’t remember her saying that.”
“You liar.”
“No, really. And I am taking it easy. I am.”
“You are taking it easy for you,” he conceded.
“I wish I were with you.”
“You can’t be on every deployment.”
“And you can?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“I’m not—well, maybe a little.”
Neither one of them spoke. She knew Zen was right—she wasn’t taking it easy, and she wasn’t going to take it easy. It wasn’t in her nature. But it wasn’t in his, either.
“Hey, I love you, you know,” he said finally. “A lot.”
“And I love you too, baby.”
“Maybe when this whole thing is done, we’ll take a real vacation.”
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“OK.”
“Maybe here,” he said, laughing. “Place does look beautiful, at least from the air.”
Dreamland
1006
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR …
Mack Smith had heard his mother say that a million times growing up. And damned if it wasn’t one of the few things she’d said that turned out to be true.
Working as General Terrill Samson’s chief of staff meant working … and working … and working, 24/7. Samson believed in delegating—and with much of his staff and sub-ordinate officers still en route to Dreamland from previous posts, he was the delegate de jour.
There was another saying his mother had used all the time: Stuff rolls downhill.
Except she didn’t say “stuff.”
Mack was contemplating just how far downhill he was when his office phone rang. The light signaled that the call was an internal one—from the general’s office.
“General wants to talk to you,” said Chartelle Bedell, the general’s civilian secretary.