Strike Force

“I’d also suggest maybe a few windows in there too,” Wohl added. “The commando delivery vehicle the Air Battle Force uses has windows.”

“I’ll bet it doesn’t go suborbital, Sergeant Major,” Hunter said. “Were you getting a little airsick up there? We noticed your vitals getting up there.” A warning glare from the big Marine told Boomer to terminate that line of questioning immediately. “Maybe we can put a computer monitor up front that can transmit mission data as well as outside horizon views. Good suggestion, Sergeant Major.” Wohl nodded, which instantly made Boomer feel that his life had just been spared.

“I’m sorry you had a rough ride, General,” Nano said, concern still evident in her voice.

“Hey, I had a great time, Lieutenant,” the Air Force Security Forces one-star general said. Hal Briggs was always an animated, energetic guy, but his face was fairly beaming as he remembered the flight he just took. “Man, I was in space. Me! I joined the Army to see the world, but I never thought I’d see it from space!” Hal Briggs had originally joined the U.S. Army but transferred to the Air Force when being a Ranger got too unexciting for him. “I’ll fly with you anytime, boys and girls, with or without the suit. Just call.”

After a brief physical exam, the first stop was maintenance debrief, which usually lasted a couple of hours. Mission data automatically datalinked to Earth stations during the flight was compared to digital mission logs collected on the ground, and then the smallest departure from flight-planned or nominal readings was examined and discussed. The flight crew sat together at a desk surrounded by six computer monitors, each linked to a different main office of the maintenance complex — propulsion, environmental/life support, electrical/hydraulic/pneumatic, payload, communications/computers, and airframe — and answered questions transmitted to them by technicians in the control center, aircraft hangar, and records room.

It was past noon and well over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit outside in the Nevada sunshine when Noble, Benneton, Briggs, and Wohl finally stepped out of the maintenance debrief building, where they found Colonel Martin Tehama waiting for them. He saluted Briggs. “I hope you are okay, General, Sergeant Major,” he said. “I’m glad to hear the medics gave you a clean bill of health.”

“Actually, I feel pretty good, Colonel — like I had a really vigorous workout,” Briggs said. “I guess whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, eh?”

“Yes, sir. And you, Sergeant Major?”

“Fine, sir,” Wohl said in his typical low, almost growling voice.

Briggs lit up a cigar, watching with interest as Tehama’s eyes widened in concern. “Uh…sir?” the HAWC commander said apologetically. “We don’t allow smoking here at the complex.”

Briggs nodded and looked directly at the Air Force full colonel. “Is that so, Colonel?” he asked simply, taking another deep drag of his cigar. “I’ve been assigned here for…what, Chris? Damn near twenty years?”

“A very long time, sir,” Wohl rumbled.

Briggs continued to stare at Tehama. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a ban on smoking outdoors except on the flight line, weapon storage area, and hangars,” he went on.

“Well, there is, sir.”

Briggs nodded, took another deep drag of his cigar, took it out of his mouth, and blew a cloud of smoke into Tehama’s face. “Duly noted. Is there anything else for me, Colonel?” he asked.

“Sir, I think it’s a bad example for the men to have a general officer flouting my regulations,” Tehama tried one more time.

“Do you think your men will be flouting your regulations because of me, Colonel?”

“I don’t believe they will, sir, no.”

“Then I don’t believe we have a problem here, Colonel.”

“But if the men see you violating one of my regulations…”

“Will that prompt them to go ahead and disobey your regulations?”

“I don’t think so, sir. But it…it shows a lack of regard for my regulations.”

“A lack of regard for some of your regulations, Colonel…like having a cigar after my first space flight, away from the flight line, outdoors, in a parking lot.” Tehama said nothing. “You are free to report my flagrant violation of your regulations to General Edgewater at Air Force Materiel Command, or to Major-General Furness at Air Battle Force. Want their numbers?”

Tehama briefly appeared as if he was going to argue with him, but he decided against it, scowling. “No, sir,” he said, saluting. Briggs raised his cigar to return his salute, and Tehama turned to depart.

“Oh, Colonel — what did you come out here for anyway?” Briggs asked.

Tehama stopped and half-turned, kicking himself for forgetting. “I need to speak with Captain Noble.” He could smell another waft of fine cigar smoke traveling his way and wished he had one himself right now.

“Very well. Carry on.”