by Anne Fox
Crow stopped jiggling his leg for just long enough to grab a hand-held aviation radio from his own flight bag. Turning it on, he set it on the table in front of him.
“Why don’t you just have Hal open a channel on comm?” Edge asked.
“Hank takes her earpiece out when she’s flying,” Crow said, jiggling his leg.
Hank completed her preflight check of the airplane and climbed in, Fred taking the seat next to her. He simply watched as she performed her cockpit checks after starting the engine and taxied to the runway after making the appropriate calls on the aircraft’s radio.
“You don’t seem very nervous for this being a checkride,” Fred remarked after she’d completed her run-up.
“I love instrument flying,” Hank said, configuring the plane for take-off. “I love the challenge and precision of it.” Making her radio call announcing the Archer’s departure, she positioned on the runway and applied throttle, allowing the aircraft to accelerate down the runway and then lifting off smoothly into flight.
Following his directions, she climbed, maneuvered, and performed the various tasks required to show proficiency at instrument flying. Completing each of the flight tasks to his satisfaction, they then flew back to Stafford to perform the required instrument approaches. Keeping the navigation instruments nearly perfectly aligned to the correct course headings for each one, she flew the final approach – the ILS – nearly perfectly to the decision height for the approach as well.
“Go ahead and land, Hank,” Fred said. “You’ve got your instrument rating. That was some exceptional flying.”
She kept her attention on landing the airplane and rolling out until the speed of the aircraft allowed a controlled turn from the runway. As they taxied into the ramp, he said, “I take it the commercial ticket is next?”
“Crow and Cloud intend us to do it as a commercial, single- and multiengine land, along with multiengine instrument checkride,” she said. “I think I’m going to love that one as well. They gave us a little experience in the Seneca on our way out to our last big training exercise, and it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with that airplane.”
“I noticed you’ve even logged a half an hour in the Latitude,” Fred said.
“Yeah. Now that airplane is a bit overwhelming for me right now. But very cool.”
“I love the Citations,” Fred said.
“Do me a favor, Fred,” Hank began. “Don’t let Crow know I passed.”
“Oh?”
“He sits in there and jiggles his leg. He’s even driving Edge crazy with it.”
Fred laughed. “Yup. Crow jiggles his leg, Cloud flips a quarter back and forth over his fingers. If you ever decide to do a little instructing, you’ll probably develop some sort of nervous habit as well.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Hank said, securing the aircraft. “My nervous thing is eating chocolate, and from their behavior I think I’d gain thirty pounds.” She took the offered Temporary Airman Certificate from Fred, folded it, and stuck it in her wallet. Walking inside, she handed the Archer’s keys to Edge, who looked at her questioningly. Noting that Crow had his head down and was still jiggling his leg, she simply smiled and winked at him.
Edge took the keys and followed Fred back to the pilot’s lounge.
Hank sat opposite Crow and stretched her legs out under the table, slouching in her chair.
Not looking up, Crow asked, “Well?”
“Well what?” She thought about the “Secret Service” face she’d see Spud get from time to time and tried to emulate it.
“D’ja pass?”
“Fred will talk to you once he’s done with Edge.” She noticed the speed of his jiggle increase. Karma, baby. And right now, I’m winning the war.
Spud paused the recording of the news he’d been watching on his tablet as Hank, Edge, and Crow came into the cafeteria. Crow went straight to the coffee pot, grabbed a cup, and giving Hank a scowl, walked off to his quarters.
“What’s eating him?” Spud asked.
Edge grinned. “Hank wouldn’t tell him she’d passed when she got done with her checkride. She told him Fred would talk with him about it.”
“And so?” Spud asked.
“Usually, a flight examiner doesn’t talk much with an instructor unless the candidate failed,” Hank told him. “He was sweating so bad I thought we’d have to mop the floor of the FBO lounge before we left.”
Spud looked at her with his “Secret Service” face. “So, why did you let him think you failed?”
“Do you forget how he and Cloud announced our back seat activity?
“Ah,” Spud said, a grin appearing on his face. “It’s the karma war in action.”
“Yes, it is.”
Edge chuckled and sat down with his own coffee. “Not only that, but he was driving us both crazy, jiggling his leg and acting like he was afraid we’d fail in the first place.”
“How do you guys even do that?” Hank asked. “I have never figured out how a man can jiggle his leg that fast.”
Spud jiggled his leg, then shrugged. “Got me.”
Hank rolled her eyes. “I guess I just have to attribute it to being a guy thing.”
“I gather you passed, though.”
“Oh yeah,” Edge said. “We both did.”
“Fred told me I’d passed before I even got the plane on the ground,” Hank said. “He said it was some exceptional flying.”
“Now I guess when I tell someone that you’ve got your head in the clouds, what I mean will be you’ve gone flying somewhere,” Spud said.
“Now we can go for a hundred dollar hamburger whenever we want,” Hank said.
“There’s some place out there that sells hamburgers for a hundred dollars?” Spud asked.
“The hamburger costs what a hamburger usually costs,” Hank explained. “It’s the fuel to fly the plane to get it that costs a hundred dollars.”
“Ah.”
Spud went back to the recording of the news he’d been watching.
“He’s obsessed with the news these days,” Hank pointed out to Edge.
“It keeps getting more and more interesting,” Spud said. “The Justice folks have concluded that there was no malfeasance with his campaign funds. Basically, the opposition party hasn’t been able to stick him with any Article Two issues.”
“So now, is that that?” Hank asked.
“Apparently.”
She sighed. “But he’s whacky.”
“Yes, his bubble is showing him a bit off level,” Spud agreed. “Want to hear his latest?”
“I don’t know. It’s laughable and depressing all at the same time.”
Spud put down his tablet and said, “Hal, turn on monitor C1. Play AmNews noon newscast.”
“The Justice Department has completed their investigation of financial dealings involving my campaign finances and has concluded, as I knew it would, that there was no illegal activity involved. And now, I can concentrate on what I was elected to do: engage in the important duties that are the responsibility of the Presidency of this great country. Thank you all.”
“Sounds like he’s back on an even keel,” Hank said.
“Just keep watching,” Spud said.
She watched as the President shook hands with people at the rostrum and made his way off the podium. He paused to make brief comments to the assembled reporters. As he did, she noticed him start to lose coordination, beginning to stagger as if he was drunk. Secret Service agents near him reached out to steady him, and he looked at them wild-eyed and shouted, “Why don’t you motherfuckers keep your fucking hands off me?” He was then guided back into the White House by agents and staff, who could be seen supporting him before the door leading from the Rose Garden closed.
She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” she said.
“For a second, I thought you had been elected President the way he cussed, Hank,” Edge said.
Spud was once again in “Secret Service”
mode. “Something very odd is going on here,” he said, his face emotionless.
12
“Unit, alert, gunny arriving.”
Having greeted him at the door of the BEQ, Hank walked up to the hidden access to the unit’s underground complex with Quantico’s base commander. His slightly puzzled look was replaced by an even more puzzled one when the panel allowing access to the stairwell slid open to reveal it.
“Somehow, I had the idea that the unit was entirely housed within the BEQ,” he said as they passed through the access and it closed behind them.
“That would not be possible, Sir,” Hank explained. “We have a number of support personnel who work here with us, as well as support areas that would not be able to be housed in an area as small as the BEQ.”
“I notice the door is just a flat section of wall. How does it open?”
Prepared for the question, Hank replied, “We have a computer system that recognizes when one of the unit members is at the door.” True enough, and all he needs to know.
“Gunsmith to armory,” she said.
“Your computer system relays communications as well?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said as they walked down the stairs, giving a mental shrug. Also true, and he doesn’t need to know more than that, either.
Walking around to the door to the armory, the two were greeted by Luigi.
“I think this is the first time we’ve had as a guest the person whose guest we are,” Luigi said. He extended a hand. “Very nice to meet you, Sir.”
As the colonel shook hands, he took note that Luigi was also dressed in a MCCUU uniform.
“Everyone here dresses as a Marine?” he asked.
“Dresses like one, acts like one,” Hank confirmed. “Luigi, our guest is armed, but I’m certain doesn’t have enough ammunition to run our special handgun course. Which sidearm did you bring, Sir?”
“I’ve always been a fan of 1911-style handguns,” he said. “So I’ve got the Colt with me.”
“He’ll want two extra magazines, Luigi,” Hank said. “And if I can have my 1911 and three magazines as well.” She grinned. “And enough .45 ACP so we can both have a lot of fun.”
“Sure thing, Sweetheart.” Luigi disappeared into the weapons locker.
“Can I have some fun as well?” Spud asked from behind her.
“Given I have to redeem myself, sure.” She turned to the colonel. “Sir, may I introduce my husband.”
“Very nice to meet you, Sir. Welcome to the unit,” Spud said, extending his hand.
The colonel shook hands, noting Spud’s name and rank. “Sergeant Major Spud? How does one get a name like Spud?”
Hank reflexively lowered her face while grinning ear-to-ear. Spud, on the other hand, had adopted his Secret Service face, responding with, “It’s somewhat of a long story, Sir.”
“I’m supposin’ you want your Sig and some ammo as well, Spud?” Luigi asked, returning with Hank’s pistol, spare magazines, and ammunition for her and the colonel.
“If you would, Luigi,” Spud said, a confident smile on his face.
“He believes he can beat me at this exercise, Sir,” Hank said.
“I know I can beat her at this exercise, Sir,” Spud retorted. “Especially as I have already done so once.”
“Ah, but you haven’t seen the little twist Voice and I came up with,” Hank said. She took a quarter from her pocket and held it up in front of Spud’s nose.
“You’re on,” Spud said, coming up with his own quarter.
The colonel smiled. “The bet is only two bits?”
“All bets in the unit consist of a quarter,” Hank explained. “Just call it a ‘unit thing,’ Sir.” She grinned. “It’s more symbolic than anything else, Sir. The unit provides those of us in the Field Team literally everything we need.”
She indicated that he should precede her out of the armory. Once back in the corridor, she said, “If you would follow me, Sir.”
She led the way through the corridors to the range entrance. Expecting something much smaller, the colonel was surprised to see the depth of the range through the anteroom windows.
“This is much larger than I was imagining,” he said. “How do you keep the sound isolated?”
“Through some very clever engineering,” she said. “If you don’t mind, Sir, I’d like to wait here until Spud and Luigi arrive. The range is under negative pressure, as most correctly-designed and engineered indoor ranges are. I’d like to not have the anteroom door opened while we’re entering the range proper. It disturbs the suspended ceiling tiles.”
Spud and Luigi soon came through the outer anteroom door, Spud joining the two others and Luigi heading for the range master’s booth.
“I thought Luigi was the armorer,” the colonel said.
“And the gunsmith, and the range master and manager,” Hank said. “Our support personnel have multiple talents, Sir.” She called to Luigi. “Could you check the colonel’s sidearm, Luigi?”
“Sure thing, Sweetheart.”
“Luigi is a very adept gunsmith, Sir. You may find that if he believes your Colt needs tweaking, he can do it quickly and hand you back a firearm that will run much better than you’re used to.”
Luigi walked over and held out his hand, prompting the colonel to take his sidearm out of its holster, clear it, and hand it to the gunsmith.
“Let’s go into the range for this,” Luigi said.
The entourage entered the range proper. Checking the colonel’s magazine for how many rounds it held, Luigi inserted it into the magazine well of the pistol and slammed it home with a rap of his palm. “Everyone got ears on?” he asked, taking his own hearing protection and placing it over his ears.
Ascertaining that everyone had hearing protection in place, he raised the handgun and fired all of the rounds in the magazine into the range’s backstop at rapid speed.
“Yeah, he mused, “This action has gotta little hitch in it, but I think I can make a quick fix for ya.” He pulled tools from his pockets, then stripped down the weapon quickly, organizing the parts and tools in front of him on a firing bench.
“You came prepared,” Hank observed.
“Yeah, I figured with the favor our colonel been doin’ for you and Amigo out at the MOUT that you’d want a favor done for him in return.” Luigi muttered to himself while he took a fine-grained stone and polished the sear face. He then quickly reassembled the firearm.
“Now we just give this a try with another magazine. Jus’ five rounds.” He pressed five rounds into the empty magazine and reloaded the gun. Once again emptying the magazine’s contents into the backstop, he showed a hint of satisfaction. “I could still do much better, but for now I think you’re gonna be happy,” he said, dropping the empty magazine from the gun and handing both back to the colonel. “Why don’chu load up a few rounds and give it a go, Sir?”
The colonel loaded five rounds into the empty magazine, loaded the pistol, and likewise sent the five rounds into the range’s backstop. “You’re right. That’s much smoother.”
“You’re gonna need it, Sir. This little torture course Voice and Hank got worked up is gonna be a challenge.” Luigi headed for the range booth.
“Luigi is a fine range officer as well, Colonel,” Hank said. “If he should see anything unsafe, he’ll immediately halt the exercise. I’ll warn you, also, that he’s very jealous concerning this range, as am I. You’ll note that there are no stray pock marks from errant rounds anywhere. Should you cause one to appear, both he and I will be very disappointed. With apologies for the strong admonition, Sir.”
“No apology required, Gunny,” the colonel replied.
“If everyone would like to place their firearms either in a holster or on a firing bench, I’ll take you downrange and describe the course for you.”
Holstering their weapons, Spud and the colonel followed Hank downrange to a line taped on the range floor.
“This is the starting point. Spud, you’ll note i
t’s pretty much the same as the first course we set up. From here you can see seven numbered barricades. Number one is the furthest from the target, and number seven is the closest to it. The game is simple, Colonel: place a fatal hit on the target before it places one on you.”
“The target shoots back?”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll show you that as we move forward.”
She walked ahead of the two men, stopping at the target. Inviting them to walk around behind it, she first said, “Please watch your step. Don’t trip on the target rails.”
Spud had noticed the rail assembly, but figured Hank would explain it.
“For our guest, these are shot sensors,” Hank explained to the colonel, pointing out the sensors on the back of the target. “Hal uses the sound of the bullet passing through the target to determine if the shot is a miss, a nonfatal hit, or a fatal hit. It can also now automatically score the hits.”
“Hal?”
“Our mainframe computer array,” Spud explained.
“Hal will score the hits based on distance from this point.” She indicated a point on the face of the target. “Above the neck, Hal will score based on a distance from this other point. Your score will consist of an aggregate of the distances from either point to your shot location. He who scores lowest, wins.
“As I told you before, Colonel, the target shoots back. This,” she said, indicating it, “is a simunitions gun. Spud will notice that the target is now equipped with two of them. The one on the target’s right is the target’s dominant shooting hand, and is the one that will be fired unless one of our shots hits an area that would disable the shooter’s right arm. In that case, the gun on the target’s left side will then fire, but with less accuracy than the one on the right..”
“Oh, you little vixen.” Spud said.
“I’m sure my dear husband,” Hank continued with a huge grin, “has also noticed the rails on the floor. Our suspect, as Hal will refer to the target, can now move, Sir. This was inspired by the targets you have in the MOUT. It will move randomly along this rail system, and can hide itself behind these two barricades just forward and on either side of the rail system. The barricades are considered impenetrable, both for the target and for us, so attempts to hit the target by shooting through a barricade will not be registered as hits, as Hal is programmed to know the locations of the barricades.