Alisha nodded. “I’m sorry the council kept you so long you couldn’t visit us.”
“Not half as much as I was.” He stroked her hair. “I’m glad one of us had a nice day.”
She smiled and sighed. “Gramps says all cadets struggle sometimes during their first three years. Did you?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “My first year was in strategic planning. My captain tortured me on a daily basis. Every day, I sank deeper into an unending pit of demerits. By the fourth week, I was the dog’s dog. The captain made it very clear only one thing would stop the demerits, and that was providing sex on demand. Everyone kept telling me just to do it, but the truth was, I couldn’t. My body refused to rise to the occasion.”
He laughed. “There I was with a heart-throb reputation that had followed me from college, and suddenly I couldn’t perform. The moment she came within a hundred feet of me, it would shrivel to the size of a peanut.”
“She?” Alisha said in surprise. “Your captain was a woman?”
“We didn’t think of her as a woman. We called her Godzilla.”
“Anna Riley was your captain?”
“She wasn’t Riley back then,” Jack said. “She was Godzilla.”
“And she demanded sexual favors? That’s just as wrong as the reverse!”
“You’re right. But what guy is going to cry rape when a beauty queen wants a little squeeze? Besides, back then you didn’t say a thing, regardless of the sex of your aggressor. You just held on and suffered through your dog year.”
“But you still hate her.”
“Oh yeah,” Jack replied softly, and kissed Alisha’s hand again. “And I don’t trust this friendship she’s re-established with you. Godzilla doesn’t have friends. They’re just enemies she keeps close to her.”
Alisha hoped he was wrong about that, because despite Anna’s volatile temper, they had become friends again, this time on an equal footing. She really needed a girlfriend to talk to.
Jack pushed the sides of her mouth up into a smile. “Where’s the smile I was enjoying?” he demanded. “So, any idea how soon we’ll see you decked out in an invisible suit?”
“Next week!” Alisha exclaimed. “Betty and MAC are working on the prototype even as we speak.”
“And this Betty just happens to live next door to Daniel and you just happened to meet her?”
“Look at the time,” Alisha exclaimed. “We’re going to be late for today’s flight exams if we don’t hurry up.”
Chapter 15
Logan woke in the morning feeling as if he’d just made the worse mistake of his life. Not only had he betrayed Alisha, but by having “compassion sex” with Marge, he now risked hurting her as well.
He eased out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and headed for the shower, where he remained forever. When he came out, Marge was dressed and seated at the computer.
“MAC’s satellite shows possible Cartel movement against Nashville.”
“The fort or the town?”
“The town. They must be pissed about how supportive the locals were during the early excursions. Shall we initiate our plan before our young Tucker tries to take matters into his own hands?”
Logan still hated this plan, but both his colonels needed it. “Call the officers. I’ll give a briefing and assign Brandon to the task.”
“He may confront you as to why he was chosen. Are you ready to answer that?”
“I am,” Logan replied.
“Well, let me warm you up on confrontations. You haven’t looked me in the eye once this morning. Now, I appreciate what you did for me last night. I trusted you enough to ask for help when I needed it, and you were there to provide it. However, if the price is you are never going to look me in the eye again, then the cost was too high. Don’t get me wrong, it was what I asked for—but not inspiring enough to risk the friendship that has formed between us. So let’s just forget last night and return things to the way they were.”
Logan wished he could forget it so easily, but he did feel better she wouldn’t expect him to repeat it. He forced himself to look her straight in the eyes. “Agreed,” he said, and joined her at the computer.
***
He sent Colonel Brandon out as field commander and, while the mission was extremely successful, there were two casualties: Colonel Brandon and a Lieutenant Calgar, who was the liaison between Brandon and the field sergeants moving the supplies. That night when Marge showed up to sleep in his bed, Logan didn’t attempt to hide his anger.
“I agreed Brandon needed to be removed. I never ordered the same for Calgar.”
“It didn’t come from me,” Marge assured him.
“Don’t lie to me, Marge! If you think sleeping with me makes you safe from my authority—”
“I’m not lying! I didn’t order the kill! It was either a coincidence or someone else took him out. I’m having the laser cut examined.” Each rifle cut at a slightly different frequency, leaving a unique signature, which MAC has in its database. “We’ll know what gun killed him any time now,” she assured him.
As if by magic, the computer chimed. She opened the communication and read the results. Logan leaned over her shoulder and read it along with her. The rifle had belonged to Colonel Brandon. He had killed his lieutenant. It’s possible he suspected he was under scrutiny and wanted to rid himself of any ties to the criminal activities.
“I apologize for doubting you, Marge.”
Marge shook her head. “You were right to suspect me. Under normal circumstances, I would have ordered it, regardless of your desires. I would have done it because it’s my job to do whatever I believe is right for the Corps.”
“Even if it means disobeying the direct order of your commander?”
“General, I’ve not only been disobeying my commanders’ orders for the last five years, but I’ve been actively working against them. You’re the first one who’s on my side. It’s making things a little cloudy for me. I know my mission, but I do want to support and follow your commands. This time I followed your wishes. I can’t always promise that will be the case. But as long as you aren’t slowing progress too much…”
“Exactly how am I slowing your progress, Marge? Before I came here, I can’t see you were making any progress at all!” Logan snapped.
“Fair enough,” she admitted. “You were certainly the one who got this ball rolling, but now it is, you seem hesitant to keep pushing it as hard as you began. You cleaned out the Brags officers so quickly they didn’t even have time to figure out what you were doing.”
Logan stopped her. “Last night I did you a favor that went against the very core of my honor. So now I’m asking a favor from you in return. Do not act against my command. If you think I’m wrong, convince me I’m wrong.”
“Deal,” she said, and stared at her watch. “I’ve been in here long enough for everyone to think we’ve had a quickie. I think I’ll sleep in my bed tonight.” She left Logan alone.
As Logan lay in his bed, unable to sleep, with a myriad guilts and worries bouncing around his head, he realized Marge had probably interpreted his comment as an insult. Telling her that sleeping with her had gone against the core of his honor might have been true, but perhaps he could have phrased it better.
Chapter 16
Today, Alisha felt like Wonder Woman. In her new suit, she was virtually invisible. However, wearing headgear and gloves did take some getting used to. Yet as she collapsed her catcher at high altitude and glided into the wind with her slats, she appreciated the plastic face visor protecting her eyes. It was much more pleasant than squinting. She also appreciated the headgear kept her ears and nose warm in the colder high altitudes.
Her Gramps said vanity had prevented the Corps from adopting headgear long ago. The first SkyRyders had posed for photos so often that removing headgear had been a nuisance. By the time their fame had died down, sufficient vanity over the wild, windblown look had existed to prevent the adoption of headgear. Of course no one would admit
that was the reason. Instead they said the gear would restrict their vision.
To ensure neither the headgear nor the new uniform would restrict performance, she dutifully ran through all the regular maneuvers. Betty had not yet replicated her catcher in this cool material, so those gathered to watch the test could follow the catcher now she was at lower altitudes.
However, the moment she released her catcher for the final dive, she became invisible. Excitement filled her as she soared down and shot the targets with her new deadly accurate aim, made even better since she didn’t have to squint anymore. The only items visible to the small group watching from the observation booth were her gun and slats.
Once she’d nailed the last bull’s-eye, she leaned hard to the left, and the slats turned toward the observation booth. Flipping her rifle into its holster on her back, the only thing between her and complete invisibility were the two thin lines her slats momentarily created in the sand.
Evidently those lines weren’t terribly obvious. The general’s focus remained four feet to her left.
Feeling mischievous, she veered further off path, passed the observation booth, and came in from the back.
“Where the hell is she?” Powell demanded.
“She definitely landed. The targets were all taken out,” Jack said.
“Unless this whole dog and pony was a sham and the targets were rigged,” Colonel Dryer suggested.
Standing directly behind her odious roommate, Alisha extracted her rifle and spoke. “That’d be a hell of a trick, Dryer.” She shoved him with the rifle muzzle. “And if I were the enemy, you’d be dead now.” She then passed him and approached the general, pushing up her face visor. “The suit works like a charm.”
“God almighty!” Powell exclaimed. “Did anyone actually see her approach us?”
“I did,” Betty replied from her corner of the observation deck. “Her slats created small ripples in the sand before the wind covered them up. I had thought it would be easy to see, but it wasn’t. She came around on the right and attacked from behind.”
Powell looked anything but pleased. He glared at Jack as if this whole mess were his fault. “Alisha, get out of the suit before someone sees you.”
“How about if I just make the suit so someone can see me,” she offered, and pushed a control panel on her wrist. The suit turned flamingo red and, except for additional accessories of helmet and gloves, it looked very similar to the suits all the Class Five trainees wore.
“In my office, now,” Powell demanded, then remembered Betty. “Colonel Dryer, would you see Miss Pratt to her quarters?”
Alisha was embarrassed the general was pointedly not including Betty in their conversation. A few months ago, she would have argued for Betty’s right to attend. But she had no wish to fall back under Dryer’s command, so she kept her annoyance to herself.
The moment they entered the officers’ common, the general released a fury of outrage that didn’t stop for fifteen minutes. The theme of his ravings was simple: what the hell had Jack been thinking to create such a weapon? The general was very precise about what it could do to the war if this capability fell into the hands of the Cartel.
“I didn’t invent the technology,” Jack finally objected. “And neither did Alisha. And if young Miss Pratt can develop such a weapon, then others will figure it out as well. What we have is a window of opportunity to use it first, to make it better, and most importantly to figure out how to prevent the Cartel from using it against us.”
“The last point is the key. How do you plan to do that?” the general demanded.
“Well, Miss Pratt evidently has some ideas on the matter, but she has yet to express those ideas in any words I can understand. So we may have to wait for her prototype.”
“A prototype of what?” the general demanded.
“Of some sort of radio device that will deactivate the suit’s ability to change color.”
Seeing the general still seemed inclined to blame Jack for this technology, Alisha spoke up. “Sir, the technology is out there. We can’t stop progress. Nanotechnology is like computers of a hundred years ago. You’ll never stop it—there are millions of clever people out there working against you. You just have to keep pushing the envelope so you remain ahead of the game.”
“I’d liken this more to the atomic bomb,” Powell growled, “but your point is taken. As hard as we tried, we could not stop the proliferation of nuclear bombs. And we all know where that got us.”
Chapter 17
Twenty new suits had come in for the top fliers on the West coast. MAC hadn’t sent any to the East Coast, despite the fact the second, third and fourth highest fliers were all there. Alisha wondered if Logan was even aware of the suits. It would be just like General Powell not to tell him.
She decided the suits were a good excuse to send Logan an email. She hadn’t written him since his curt email got her in so much trouble. She hoped he didn’t do that again. Although Powell hadn’t expressly forbidden her to tell Logan about the suits, she suspected he would not be pleased.
In case he did, she kept the note brief and to the point:
General Logan.
I hope all is well with you. We have new suits on this coast that are a significant improvement. Have you heard about them? I’ll be glad to provide further details if you are interested.
Alisha.
She sent it off. She waited to see if perhaps he was online and would respond. While she waited, she searched through her emails. Since she was the gatekeeper for all who wished to become a Class Five flier, she received twenty emails a day from fliers wishing for her assistance to bring them in for advanced training.
Alisha skimmed the names for any she might recognize, and smiled as she saw Ginnie’s name. She clicked it open and read.
Hey Girl!
I see you’re finally back on email. Boy, you must have really gotten yourself in hot water to lose email privileges! I asked Tucker what was up, but he’s about as approachable as a cactus these days. Let me assure you, no matter how bad you think you have it there, this coast is a hundred…no, a thousand times worse. I think Hell is probably better than here!
To give you a sense of this place, imagine DC on his worst day. Then make him twice as evil and clone him a thousand times. Promote the most evil to colonels. And make the rest of us dogs again…even if we have the rank of captain. (Like DC, they don’t give a shit what MAC says our rank is.) I wasn’t here more than two days before I figured out why DC went west. HE WAS TOO NICE for this place. Remember how you stopped the making of dogs over there. Well the general tried it here, and the next day, the poor dogs had to wear dog collars—honest to God!
Needless to say, General Logan has been in one pissed-off mood since the minute he arrived. I rarely speak to him these days. Remember how he used to smile and joke around with us? Well, not anymore. He’s become as scary as the rest of them.
You piss him off and the next day, you’re on the front line in a battle plan designed to kill more of us than the Cartel. If I wasn’t scared to death he’d send me out to the frontline for asking, I’d put in for a transfer back to the West Coast.
Poor Daily got sent back for training, but I’ll be surprised if she has any interest in actually passing the Class Five, because then she’d get sent back here. At least Jersey and I are slightly protected because we have guys who have no problem beating the living shit out of anyone who gets abusive with us. Daily only had Ben, and the thugs here think he’s the biggest joke in the world. General Logan has kept him grounded for the last month because every time he takes off, you’d think it had suddenly become duck season in these parts.
Well, you can imagine if they’re willing to take aim at him, having sport with his girl would be high on their list of things to do every single night. I can’t even tell you what Daily’s gone through. I’ve experienced a bit of it, and Jersey got gang-raped by several of our bastard colonels, but poor Daily—a street girl has it better than what
she endured.
I hope she’s doing better over there, but I rather doubt it. This is just between us, because Jersey says Tucker promised her it wasn’t in her record, so I’m trusting you not to tell your medic…but the reason why General Logan sent her back was because she tried to off herself. Ben found her—she’d been raped and beat up pretty bad, but the medic here determined the wrist-slash was self-inflicted.
God, this letter is so down you’re probably ready to off yourself just from reading it. Let me switch to a lighter topic.
Jersey doesn’t wear makeup or flashy clothes anymore. You wouldn’t recognize her! She looks so different! She’s even let her hair grow out in its natural color—mouse brown. And she’s not sassy anymore either. She’s almost as taciturn as Tucker.
Mason and I are still together, and I do EVERYTHING possible to keep him happy. I’d be dead meat if he were to drop me for one of the new cadets coming in. But truthfully, I liked him better when I had the upper hand. He’s not nearly as nice to me as he used to be on the West Coast.
This place has changed us all. It’s like we landed in a time when cavemen ruled. Man see woman…man want woman…man take woman. Even the general has taken a woman…and who would have ever thought that would happen? Hell, I tried my hardest to get his attention when he was my colonel, and he showed me less interest than the Pope would have. Yet this hot blonde colonel named Margerie Williams managed to get his attention fast enough. They’ve been partners from almost the moment he arrived.
I guess that’s why he tolerates her battle plans. (Which totally suck. The only good battle plan we have is Colonel Sparkes’. We’re still using it whenever the general is inclined to win a battle rather than kill soldiers who’ve pissed him off.)
I hear Colonel Williams was the last three generals’ partner as well, and they didn’t live very long, so if Logan turns up dead, you might want to start an investigation from your side of the world. Over here, we’ll be shivering in our boots. While General Logan might be unpleasant as hell, he still looks after those he brought over. He’s moved most of us to the rank of captain (at least those with the muscle to enforce their new rank).
Scavenger Vanishes (The SkyRyders Book 3) Page 9