Strike Force

Tehama strode quickly yet stiffly over to where Boomer and Nano were loading gear into a staff car. They both saluted their superior officer, but Tehama didn’t return their salutes. His conversation with Boomer and Nano was very short: Tehama stopped in front of them and, with his eyes averted and his face a mask of anger and frustration, said simply, “Benneton, I want the report on the module on my desk by sixteen hundred hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Nano responded, wondering if she had enough time and then immediately deciding, based on Tehama’s pained and angry expression, that she had better make the time.

“Noble, you’re off the flying schedule,” Tehama said. “You will report to the flight surgeon for a complete medical and psych eval.”

“A psych eval…?”

“I find you moody, irritable, refusing to follow orders, argumentative, and distracted, possibly depressed or in some way unbalanced,” Tehama said. “Further, and much more seriously, you willingly violated a major operational security directive by landing during an enemy satellite overfly window period — I shouldn’t need to remind you that we are still technically in a state of war. You’re grounded until I get the report from the flight surgeon. Get on it, both of you.” He walked away without another word, not returning their salutes, or even looking up.

Boomer wore a stunned expression as they watched Tehama walk away. “Can you believe this shit?” he exploded. Nano averted her eyes. “Grounding me is one thing…but a psychological evaluation? If that shows up on my records, I’ll be out of this program in the blink of an eye! I won’t be able to get a job spraying fertilizer over a bean field, let alone fly in space ever again. He can’t do this to me! Maybe he’s the one who’s come unhinged, eh, Nano? Wonder what he and General Briggs were talking about? Wonder if they’d get mad if I asked them?” When Nano didn’t respond, he looked at her, and saw her still looking at the pavement. “What’s up, Nano?”

“I gotta go write that report,” was all she said.

But she didn’t need to say anything else — her blank expression told him everything. “You agree with Tehama?” he asked her. “You think I need a psych eval?”

“You were acting real weird today, Boomer,” she responded woodenly. “You were fighting everything and everyone, wanting to do it your own way. What’s up with that?”

“We do that on every mission, Nano — you know that,” Boomer said. “This isn’t Edwards, Eglin, or Pax River — we don’t always follow a set program because our job is to get the weapon systems in the flight test units’ hands as soon as possible. Before Tehama showed up, no one was complaining when I’d hand-fly a re-entry or land a little hot. Why am I getting shit now?”

“You’re getting a psych eval because you argued with the boss, Boomer.”

“Tehama’s worried about his promotion and his pension — he doesn’t want anybody messing up his perfect little world. We need to get someone in charge here who cares more about putting hardware on the line rather than his career.”

“When are you going to learn that you’re not going to find a field grade officer bucking for general’s stars who’s not afraid of ruining his career?” Benneton asked. “A guy’s been in the service twenty-plus years and he wants everything to go nice and smooth so he can nail down his retirement; he wants no black marks on his record so he can show off a clean, successful résumé to defense contractors or consulting clients after he punches out. Guys like Tehama are looking at the end of their Air Force careers, not the beginning, and they need that job after retirement to supplement their pitiful government pensions. You and me, we get employment offers every week, and for a hell of a lot more money than guys like Tehama will ever see.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot — I know all that,” Boomer said, the frustration evident in his voice. “But we can do amazing stuff out here if we’re allowed to do it. Technical and scientific hurdles I can handle — it’s the bureaucratic and personality junk that get me angry. Why can’t they just let us do our thing?”

“You sound like a complete adolescent nerd, Boomer,” Nano said. “Go see the shrink, and try not to aggravate him or he’ll put you in a straitjacket and then I’ll have twice as much work to do around here.” She started walking toward her office inside the guarded flight test compound, then turned and shouted over her shoulder, “And I’m still pissed at you for ruining my test flight. Like I said: payback’s a bitch.”

QOM, ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF IRAN

THAT SAME TIME

“Is everyone in position?”

“Yes, sir,” Sattari said. “Looks like just a skeleton crew on duty.”

“As we expected,” Buzhazi said. “Let’s do it.”

Buzhazi didn’t usually go for symbology, “winning hearts and minds,” or going for shock effect — it was risky to commit precious men and equipment to anything that didn’t have concrete tactical purpose — but in this particular case, the mission could have tremendous psychological and morale impact if properly executed…