by Dan Stratman
“You know the drill. No errors, no mistakes, no exceptions. Your stomach can wait.” Cyndi picked up a red phone on her side of the console. “Command post, comm check from site Alpha One.” She plugged the opposite ear with her finger, squinted, and leaned forward as she strained to listen. “Say again?” She shook her head. “No. This is site Alpha One, not Echo One.” She listened more keenly. “I can’t understand a thing you’re saying. I’ll try the commercial line.” Cyndi hung up. “Lowest-bidder piece of junk,” she grumbled.
She went over to a wall-mounted phone near the blast door. Bell Telephone was stamped on the plastic handset. Cyndi tapped in a phone number on the keypad then waited.
“Warren Air Force Base operator. How can I help you?”
“This is LCC Alpha One. Connect me to the command post.”
“Hold, please.”
She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and shook her head. “This is ridiculous.” After a few seconds she pulled her hand away. “This is Captain Stafford. The direct line at Alpha One is malfunctioning. We are in place. LCC is secure.” She listened for a moment then said, “Roger that. And send out a maintenance crew to fix our comm systems.” She hung up and sat back down in a huff. “Have you run the checklist yet?”
“On it,” Lance said quickly.
He pulled a four-inch-thick binder from the shelf above his workstation. Every one of the hundreds of pages in the new checklist was tucked into plastic sleeves to protect them from the eventual wear that was to come from being used 24/7/365/forever.
He flipped it open. “LCC subsystems test checklist. Page three dash one one five.”
Methodically, he went line-by-line through the checklist with his finger.
“Lamp test.” Lance pressed a button. The panel lit up like an overdecorated Christmas tree.
Every switch, button, and bulb on the console would need to be working correctly before the LCC would be deemed fit to control nuclear missiles. Five pages later, he came to the last item on the checklist.
“Backup generator.” Lance flipped a switch, but nothing happened. “Come on.” He tried it again. Nothing.
“What’s the problem?”
“The backup generator isn’t responding.”
“Try the alternate circuit.”
Lance tried a different switch. “Nothing.”
“I’m not going to take the site off alert status on its first day.” Cyndi got up and walked over behind his chair. She scanned his panel. “Test the generator again.”
Lance threw his hands up. “I already did. It’s not working.”
Cyndi put a hand on his headrest, leaned forward, and pointed. “Try it again.”
Lance looked back with frustration. “I’ve been at this for two years. I think I know what I’m doing, Captain.”
Cyndi reached down and pressed the test button herself. Her breasts were now resting on Lance’s shoulders.
He tensed up. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.” Lance pushed away from the console and stood up. He turned to face Cyndi.
She straightened up and stepped back. “Is that so, Lieutenant? And exactly what are you going to do about it?”
“This!”
Lance cupped his hand around the back of her neck, pulled Cyndi close, and planted a passionate, powerful kiss on her lips.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cyndi recoiled from Lance and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She spread her feet apart to distribute her weight.
Lance swallowed hard, prepared for what was about to come his way.
Instead of knocking him unconscious, Cyndi smiled and said, “What took you so long?”
Lance let out a big sigh of relief. “I wanted to make sure we were all alone. Complete discretion, like you want.”
“Now that we are…” She slid down the zipper on her flight suit, revealing a racy, pink Victoria’s Secret bra and panties under her military issue uniform.
Lance reached out and slid her flight suit off each shoulder, baring her shapely and toned upper body. He leaned in for a kiss, confident he wouldn’t be risking his life this time with his show of affection.
When their lips parted, Cyndi took his hand and led Lance over to the bunk. She pulled the curtains back. “How about we pick up where we left off last night?”
Down the hallway in the makeshift kitchen, Cyndi and Lance were eating lunch at a small, faded green Formica table with a dented metal band nailed around the edges.
Cyndi unwrapped her turkey sandwich, put it up to her mouth, then laid it down. She stared down at the table and wondered, How do I tell him this? She decided to just be straightforward with how she felt. “The last couple of months have been great.”
“The last hour wasn’t so bad either,” Lance said with a satisfied grin as he polished off his sandwich. He pointed across the table. “You going to eat that?”
Cyndi slid her stale sandwich toward him without answering.
Lance snatched it up and took a big bite.
“You know I care about you—us—right?”
Lance chomped on the sandwich and flashed a thumbs-up. “Ditto.”
“It’s just that…” Cyndi wavered.
Lance wiped his mouth. He reached out and took Cyndi’s hand. “I’m really good at reading women. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Cyndi nodded.
He took her other hand and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re mad at me for eating your sandwich.”
Cyndi yanked her hands away. “Stop kidding around. I’m trying to be serious.”
“Sorry. I’ll never crack another joke again.” He leaned forward and folded his hands. “What’s up.”
She shook her head. “Forget it. I’m good. Really.”
“Talk to me, Goose. Tell me what’s bugging you.”
Cyndi took a deep breath. “I’m getting out soon, and you still have two years to go.”
“About that—”
“I’ve always known what I wanted in life. Now I’m torn. I’d like to stay in Cheyenne and see where this goes between us, but my mom keeps pressuring me to come home and run the flight school.”
“Maybe you should. I know how much you love to fly. I’d hate to be the reason you didn’t take the job. If you decide to go back, we could try the long-distance thing. Calls, Zoom chats, text messages.”
“That never works out.” Cyndi shook her head. “The distance eventually causes couples to drift apart.”
“What is it then?”
Cyndi stared down at her hands. “I’m not sure I want to go back to LA. There’re too many painful memories back there.”
“What do you mean?”
“My dad wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. It was always his way or the highway. His favorite saying was, ‘If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.’ I’m not saying he was a bad guy. He taught me to fly every plane we had. It’s just that he was so damn stubborn. I don’t think I ever heard him say he was sorry.”
“How did he…you know?”
Her head sagged down. “My mom kept bugging him to go see the doctor, but he said it was nothing. By the time he finally made an appointment, it was too late. The cancer had already spread throughout his body. Regrettably, we weren’t on speaking terms back then. He went downhill so fast I never got to say goodbye.” A tear trickled down her cheek. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed it away. “I found out later that my bone marrow was a perfect match. I could have saved him.”
“You don’t know that. There’re no silver bullet in medicine.”
“At least I could have tried.” She looked up with red eyes. “Do you get along with your dad?”
Normally quick with answers, Lance hesitated. “Well…it’s kind of complicated. He’s always so old school about everything.” Lance looked up and tapped his chin. “How can I put this?” He searched for a diplomatic way to describe the challenging relationship between the two. “His idea of parenting was very…traditional.” L
ance shrugged. “He wasn’t around much, though. He’s a big-shot heart surgeon in Dallas so he was gone a lot.” Hoping to change the subject, Lance slid his chair over next to Cyndi. “Do you know that’s the most you’ve shared about your past since we started dating?”
“It is?” Cyndi said with exaggerated surprise.
“Let me guess. You’ve been hurt before by guys, so you’re scared to open up because it would make you vulnerable.” Lance folded his arms across his chest with a great deal of satisfaction. “Am I right?”
“Okay, ease up on the psychobabble there, Dr. Freud. That’s not it at all. I’m not scared to show how I feel.”
Lance put his hands up. “No, of course not. I completely misread you.” He tilted his head. “So, you won’t mind if I ask you some questions about your past?”
“Ask me anything,” Cyndi responded indignantly.
“Fine. I will,” Lance responded in kind.
“Fine.”
“I’ll start with a hard one. Where did you grow up?”
Cyndi shrugged. “Everywhere. Nowhere in particular. When you’re a military brat, you move constantly. No place feels like home.”
“That must have been tough. I had it easy. I grew up with the same friends and lived in the same house until I left for the Air Force.”
“It affects some kids more than others. Constantly switching schools was the worst part. You’ll do almost anything to make friends. Sometimes you hang around the wrong type of people just so you can feel like someone cares about you.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Cyndi pulled back. “That depends on how personal it is.”
“At the first martial art training class, General McNeil called your dad the ‘infamous test pilot.’ What did he mean?”
Cyndi checked her wristwatch. “It’s almost noon, and the blast door is open. We need to get back to the LCC.” She slid her chair back and started to stand.
Lance put his hand on her arm and gently guided her back down into her chair. “We have plenty of time. Talk to me.”
She pulled her chair back up to the table. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“What wasn’t?”
Cyndi exhaled deeply. “My dad was testing the YF-24 over the dry lake at Edwards when the plane went out of control. If he hadn’t ejected, he would’ve been killed.”
Lance nodded. “I remember reading about that accident. The Air Force said the pilot screwed up.”
Cyndi’s face suddenly flushed with anger. “That’s bull!”
Lance straightened up and lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m just telling you what the Air Force told the press.”
“They lied! After I joined the Air Force, I found the accident report. I read every single document in it. A footnote buried in one of the reports said the fly-by-wire software had some bugs in it. I think that’s why the plane went out of control.”
“Did you tell the Air Force what you found?”
“Of course. I called every officer in his chain of command. They refused to talk to me. Said I was reading things into the report that weren’t there because he was my dad. When I threatened to go to the press and expose the cover-up, they classified the report. They said the Air Force couldn’t risk damaging its relationship with the company that built the plane. Tech Aerospace had just won the multimillion-dollar contract to build the new replacement aircraft for pilot training, and if word got out that their flight software might be unsafe, it would send their stock into a nosedive. I wasn’t able to clear his name.”
“Damn…that’s messed up.” Lance grabbed a water bottle from the box and stood up. “I don’t blame you for being upset.”
“The Air Force refuses to reopen the investigation, but I haven’t given up. One way or the other, I’m going to expose the truth no matter what I have to do.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. All it does is upset me.” Cyndi folded her arms and sat back. “What were you going to say?”
He looked away and took a big gulp. Then another one.
He slid his chair away from Cyndi and sat back down.
He drained the rest of the bottle then cleared his throat.
“Umm…this might not be the best time, but I need to show you something.” He pulled out the letter Airman Brown had given him, unfolded it, and handed it to Cyndi.
She read it over carefully. Cyndi folded it up and handed it back. Her head drooped. “That’s great,” she said softly.
“You could pretend to be a little more excited. I’ve dreamed about being a pilot since I was a kid making model airplanes.”
Cyndi looked up and forced a smile. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m not thrilled. How long before you leave?”
“I start pilot training in four months. I’ll be stationed at Laughlin Air Force base. It’s in—”
“Del Rio, Texas.”
Lance cocked his head. “Have you been there?”
Cyndi got up and walked over to the counter. She turned her back to Lance and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. She decided the paper plates on the counter needed to be stacked in one pile. Then she split the stack up again. Avoiding eye contact, she quietly said, “Laughlin was my first duty station.”
“How could that be? It’s a pilot training base. You’re a missileer.”
She turned and tightly crossed her arms. “We’re in the Air Force, remember? Washing out of pilot training isn’t something you want the whole world to know about.”
“How could someone with your flying experience wash out of pilot training?”
Cyndi plopped back down in her chair. “It’s a long story. You don’t want to know.”
“Try me. Give me the Reader’s Digest version.”
She let out a deep sigh. “Flight school was going great. I was number one in my class. I was only one week away from getting my wings. On assignment night I’d gotten my dream airplane, the F-35. The next day the base commander called me into his office and locked the door. He told me I wasn’t going to graduate unless I slept with him.”
Lance let out a low whistle. “Obviously, that scumbag didn’t know about your martial arts skills, or he never would have tried that with you.”
“He found out the hard way when he tried to grab me. I kicked his ass right there in his office.”
“Why didn’t you report him?”
“A brand-new second lieutenant accusing a lieutenant colonel? With no witnesses? I knew it would be his word against mine.”
Lance shook his head. “Hell of a crappy way to welcome you to the Air Force.”
“I’d torched a lot of bridges when I challenged the Air Force’s official explanation for my dad’s crash. The higher-ups were infuriated when I claimed there was a cover-up going on. They were just looking for a reason to kick me out of the service. I wasn’t about to hand it to them. So, here I am, a nuclear missile launch officer in lovely Cheyenne, Wyoming.” She checked her watch again. “It’s noon. Let’s talk about this later. We better get back to the LCC.” Cyndi stood up.
“Wait.” Lance dug into his pocket and placed the object he’d retrieved on the table. It was attached by a short, beaded chain to a rabbit’s foot.
Cyndi looked suspiciously at the object as she sat back down. “What’s that?”
“The Air Force has a special name for it. It’s called a key.”
“I can see that. I meant why are you putting a key to your apartment on the table?”
“Before I left this morning, Rocko gave me a slobbery kiss and told me he misses you and wishes you were around more.”
“He did?”
“His exact words.” Lance crossed his heart.
“Your dog told you that?”
“Well…not in so many words. When he looked up at me with those sad brown eyes, I couldn’t tell him no. I promised him I’d ask you to move in with us.”
“Move in?” Normally very sure of herself when she was calling the shots, Cyndi became flustered at being on the receiving end. She fumbled out a tepid response. “I’m not sure. That’s a big step. And you’re leaving in four months.”
“You don’t want to break Rocko’s heart, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“It would be perfect. When I’m away on alert, you could take Silo and Rocko to the park for walks. Rocko told me he’s tired of the bachelor life. He wants a woman in his life—if only for the next three months.”
“What if Silo and Rocko don’t end up getting along?” Cyndi said, looking for an excuse to avoid voicing her true feelings. “They’re so different. And you know I can’t cook.”
“Trust me, I know. But I was only in the hospital for two days after you made dinner for me. It’s no big deal. We’ll order out.” He took her hand. “Look, if the Air Force trusts you with the key to unleash Armageddon, I figure I can trust you with the key to my”—a growing blush spread across his handsome face—“my apartment.”
“Your…apartment. Right.” Her twinkling blue eyes smiled. “I’d sure hate to disappoint Rocko. He’s much more sensitive than he lets on.” Cyndi leaned forward and reached for the key.
Suddenly, the ear-splitting sound of a klaxon blasted out from speakers in the LCC. They bolted up from their chairs, bumping the table.
The key to Lance’s apartment tumbled to the floor.
The table toppled over, crushing the rabbit’s foot.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Close the blast door!” Cyndi yelled as they sprinted into the LCC.
Lance flipped the switch, starting the slow process of sealing themselves off from the outside world.
They grabbed their guns from the cabinet and strapped the holsters around their waists. After years of tedious sessions at the simulator practicing for this very scenario, they didn’t hesitate. The missileers went right to work.
Cyndi and Lance strapped in, pulled identical red binders from the shelf above the console, and opened them to the same page in each.
The blaring klaxon abruptly stopped.
