Armageddon

“Yes, sir,” said Dog.

“I want someone I can trust to talk to the sultan,” said Martindale.

“Yes, sir.”

“We promised them two Megafortresses. Can they be delivered?”

“We do have two aircraft, but they’re not ready for them to take possession,” said Dog. “They still have Flighthawk apparatus.”

“What if we get them into the area, then prepare on the ground once they’re in place?”

“My crews would have to operate them in the meantime,” said Dog.

“How soon can they get there?” asked the president.

“They can take off tonight, along with transports to assist any evacuation, if needed. And security.”

“Do it.”

“Sir, I’ve received an informal request from their air force defense minister for weapons,” Dog added.

“What sort?”

Dog hesitated for a moment. Mack had spoken to Da

“They’re looking for air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles,” said Dog. “The Megafortress that we provided to them under the first phase of the demonstration project was equipped with Stinger airmines only.”

Someone stepped close to the president, and Dog saw an aide giving him advice.

“We’ll have to look into the request,” said the president finally. “There are treaty implications. But in the meantime, any Dreamland assets that are in the area must be equipped to defend themselves. Is that understood?”

“Amply, sir.”

“This is a Whiplash order,” added the president, making the deployment official. “You get with Jed if you need anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dog as the screen went blank.

He looked over at the lieutenant on the communications desk.

“Tell Da

“I believe she may be en route back home”

“See if you can locate her. You better call Major Catsman as well.”

“She’s on her way, sir. Chief Gibbs also called a little while ago to alert you that he would be in.”

“Ax called you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dog thought of something else. He picked up the base phone and called over to Je

“Hey,” he said when she answered.

“Well, hey yourself. Are we having di

“Maybe,” he said, glancing at his watch. “If you come over to my office with it.”

She hesitated a second but then said, “All right.”

“Where’s Ray Rubeo about now, do you think?” Dog asked.

“Uh, well, this being Saturday night ..

“You’re not going to tell me something I don’t want to know, are you?”

“Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it?”

RAY RUBEO PUT HIS LIPS AGAINST THE SILVER PIPE, hesitating for just a moment. He felt the muscles in his neck tense slightly as he pursed his lips; he tried to relax them, took a breath, then began to blow.

The beeper on his belt buzzed just as the first notes came out from the flute.

“It figures,” said the scientist.

His flute teacher looked up at him through her thick glasses.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut my session short.”

“Go ahead, young man,” she told him. “Your family is more important.”

Rubeo, bound by his agreements with the government not to divulge anything about his activities to outsiders, growled to himself but did not correct her.

THE MAN IN CHARGE OF THE KITCHEN AT DREAMLAND’S Red Room—officially an all-ranks mess but closer in practice to a civilian-style grill—was an air force staff-sergeant who not only looked younger than Je

Sergeant Boca could prepare anything from killer barbecue to grilled tuna with chipotle chili sauce. Dreamland might be the only military base in the country where seafood crepes were a regular feature on the lunch menu. And his blue-cheese burgers were worth marching twenty miles through the desert for.

It was his potato salad that Je

“Ms. Gleason of the wonderful long hair,” he said as she snuck in the back.

“Not any more,” said Je

“Have to come up with a new name,” said Boca, sliding his carrots aside. “What can we do you for?”

“A little picnic di

Sergeant Boca waved his knife in the air as if it were a baton. “For tomorrow?”

“For ten minutes ago.”

“Je

“Cold chicken?”

“Tuna niçoise salad,” he answered, veering toward the refrigerator.

*   *   *

“I HAVE NO DOUBT ABOUT THE SENSOR COVERAGE,” SAID Rubeo, frowning at the map of Borneo Dog had spread over his conference room table a half hour later. “Deploying the blimps is another matter entirely. They have to be launched from the ground.”

“My guys can handle it in an afternoon,” said Da

“You’re assuming the Bruneians are going to remain in control of things there,” said Rubeo.

“You don’t think they will?” Dog asked.

The scientist merely frowned.

The alternative involved launching the blimps from the rear of a cargo plane at twenty-two thousand feet. It had been done twice during trials at Dreamland, using Dreamland’s MC-17D/W, a special version of the C-17 cargo aircraft. The results had been mixed.

“I think worse case scenario, we can still set them up,” said Da

“Really, Colonel, I think you’re pushing the development envelope here:’ said Rubeo.

“Oh, come on, Doc, they’ve passed all the preliminary tests,” said Dog. “They’ll provide round-the-clock coverage without us having to fly a Megafortress twenty-four/seven.”

“If they work.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come,” said Dog.

“Am I interrupting?” Je

“Hopefully:’ said Rubeo.

“I brought some di

“Great!” said Da

“I didn’t realize it was a party:’ she said. “Or I would have brought more.”

Dog saw the disappointment she was hiding behind her smile.

I’m going to marry her, he thought. If she’ll have me.

“Je

Dog held his tongue.

“I don’t see why not. The technology is all off-the-shelf, with the exception of the airships themselves. Where?”

“Brunei,” said Rubeo.

“When are we leaving?”

“You’re not,” said Dog.

“Why not? I hear it’s a great place.”

“Until a few days ago,” said Da

Je

“LADS isn’t your system,” he told hez.

“Technical people will have to be along,” she said. “Who’s going to supervise the engineering team? Ray?”

“Hardly necessary,” said Rubeo.

Dog looked at her. “We’re deploying tonight. I wasn’t pla

“You need a technical team. And maintainers.”

“For blimps?” said Rubeo.

“As a follow-on, sure,” said Dog. “After we assess the situation.”

“It should deploy with the weapons system.” Je