On Distant Shores

by Mark Harritt

  Chapter Four – Then

  As the C-12 taxied, the loadmaster of the plane went to the back, prepped, and lowered the tail gate of the plane until it was parallel with the ground. The air was cooler here, and the team could smell the freshness of the air as it entered the aircraft. In the distance, behind the aircraft, they could see the buildings of Malmstrom AFB. The plane slowed, parked, and the team could hear the aircraft systems spool down.

  The team popped the buckles on the seat belts and stood to stretch muscles that were stiff from sitting. One of the crew members, the assistant loadmaster, talked to Mike and told him that they were waiting for an escort. As soon as the escort was available, the team would be allowed off the plane. The assistant load master went to the passenger hatch right below the flight deck, opened up the door, and let down the stairs. A fork lift appeared outside the plane. An Air Force captain appeared at the front hatch, and walked up the stairs. As the fork lift maneuvered to get into place to receive the pallet, the Air Force captain walked over and introduced himself to the team. He was taken aback that they were all dressed in civilian clothes.

  “Gentlemen, my name is Captain Bob Dickenson. I’ll be your escort to our operation. There seems to be some mistake. We asked for people with infantry experience. We didn’t ask for civilians.”

  Mike stepped up to the Captain, “And infantrymen you got. My name is Chief Warrant Officer Three Mike Duggins.” He continued with the rest of the team, “This is Master Sergeant Everett Calhoun, Sergeant First Class Mickey D’Inazio, Staff Sergeant Roberto Torres Y Torres, and Staff Sergeant Thomas Milkin.”

  Captain Dickenson shook hands with each of the team members as they were introduced. He winced as he shook hands with Mickey, “Ah, excuse me, you don’t look like the typical infantryman that I’m used to. I was a combat engineer before I switched to the Air Force and became an officer.”

  Rob nodded, “Yes sir, we’re too pretty to be your average infantryman, but they finished with the recruiting posters and TV spots so they decided to send us here.”

  Mike smiled at the Captain’s confused look, “You can ignore him. I always do.” Mike continued, “We can discuss this later. One of my men needs to go with the pallet. We have weapons and munitions on it.”

  “Don’t worry, Chief. We’ll be escorting it the entire way to Area 19. If you don’t mind, let’s go ahead and get in the van, and we’ll get off the airfield.”

  “That’ll work,” Mike replied.

  The team grabbed their backpacks and followed the Captain out of the plane. They climbed into the van and took seats.

  “All right, the short bus,” Mickey observed.

  “And so appropriate for this group,” Mike stated.

  The driver was a Staff Sergeant, skinny, losing what little red hair he had. He had a face full of freckles, and an easy smile. His name was Staff Sergeant Drapier. The Captain gave him directions to follow the forklift, which was starting to pull away from the aircraft towards a gate that led off of the airfield. The fork lift and passenger van pulled through the gate and the fork lift approached a flatbed truck.

  As Mike watched, the fork lift pulled alongside the flat bed and started loading the pallet onto the truck. Two other Air Force personnel gave hand signals to the person on the fork lift so that the pallet was placed square onto the flatbed, the fork lift tines moving between the four by fours place on the flatbed. As soon as the two Air Force personnel had the pallet loaded correctly, they waved off the fork lift, and strapped down the pallet to the flatbed for movement. They hopped into the cab of the truck.

  Mike asked, “Are we going far from here?”

  “What?”

  “Are we moving far from here? You just strapped the pallet to a flat bed, so I’m assuming that we’re traveling.”

  Captain Dickenson shook his head, “No, We’ll be leaving the base though. We’ll travel down highway 89. We have to travel to get to Area 19. It’s not too far. We’ll follow the flatbed, and they have orders not to lose sight of us. Not too much of a problem.”

  Mike had to trust the captain. The team settled in, the flatbed pulled away from the loading zone, and the van fell in behind it.

  “Where are you guys from?” Captain Dickenson asked.

  “We’re from Fort Carson.”

  “I was station at Fort Bragg. I was with the 307th Engineer Battalion before they were deactivated in 2006.”

  Everett told him, “Well, you’ll be glad to know that the unit has been reactivated and is now part of the 20th Engineer Brigade.”

  “Yeah, I still have some friends in the Engineers at Bragg. My buddies from Operation Iraqi Freedom emailed me and told me that it had been reactivated. So, who are you guys with?” Dickenson asked.

  Mike replied carefully, “Well, the requirements that you sent meant that a more specialized unit had to be called in for this mission.”

  Captain Dickenson waited. When no more information was forthcoming, he asked, “What unit is that?”

  Mike studied him, “Maybe we can talk when we get to a secure area.”

  Captain Dickenson studied him for a moment, and then Mike saw the understanding flood his face as the light went on upstairs. Dickenson grinned, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Mike grinned back at him, “Don’t you love special access programs?”

  They exited Malmstrom Air Force Base and headed south on a road that swung to the southeast. Mike assumed it was highway 89. They were surrounded by farm land. They passed farm houses widely spaced from each other. The farms were covered in wheat fields, with the occasional soy bean farm. To the south and west they could see mountains rising off of the flat lands. To the east there was a small group of mountain peaks that sat by themselves away from any other mountains. They kept moving east on highway 87. The mountains to the east kept getting larger. The flatbed pulled off on a side road going north, and the shuttle bus followed.

  As the shuttle bus traveled, Captain Dickenson talked about accommodations, “Gentlemen, we have two rental cars reserved for you at Enterprise on base, and rooms reserved for you at the base BOQ. Once we’re done here today, we’ll move you back to Malmstrom, and you can pick up your rental cars. Tomorrow, you can drive directly out to Area 19. We greatly appreciate that you’re able to come out and help us with our project.”

  Tom put his hand up.

  Captain Dickenson smiled, “And if you could hold your questions until we get to a secure area, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Tom’s hand slowly went down.

  Mickey looked at him, “Dude, you should have gone before we got on the bus.”

  “Are we there yet?” Rob asked.

  Finally, they rolled up to their destination. The flatbed turned onto a small access road barely large enough for the truck. The access road led to a large metal building that sat out in a field. The area around the building had a chain link fence topped by razor wire. There were large cement security barriers around the perimeter that butted up to the fence to prevent any vehicle from driving through the chain link.

  A large parking lot on the side of the building had vehicles parked in it. From where he was, Mike could see a security checkpoint at the front doors of the building. The flatbed truck pulled up to a gate, and an Air Force security guard walked over to it. He checked the Air Force ID cards and security badges of the driver and his assistant. He pulled a handset and started speaking into it. The gate rolled back to admit the flatbed.

  Mike and the team were doing what they were trained to do. They were checking out the security of the site. Mike saw a CCTV system, with CCTV cameras that were capable of infrared and starlight. There were eight inch metal stanchions in the ground at the gate. If there was a problem, the guard in the guard house would hit a button, and hydraulics would send the metal stanchions up so that no vehicle would be able to breech the gate. Mike saw security lights with sensors to tr
igger the lights if movement was detected. The place was well defended.

  The shuttle bus parked. Captain Dickenson spoke, “Gentlemen, we’ll have to give you guest passes until we get you processed, and the rules are such that you’re not allowed to bring electronics into Area 19. You can check your pistols at Security.”

  “Uh, we have some expensive electronics here,” Everett said.

  “You can leave your bags in my office, if that’s good enough for you. Otherwise, you’ll have to leave them in the van.”

  Mike looked around at his team. Nobody seemed to be upset about leaving their packs in the captain’s office, “Sure, no problem, lead on.”

  The security building had two sides, one for people going in, and one for people coming out. Captain Dickenson walked into Security and everybody walked in behind him. The Captain started talking to the Tech Sergeant behind the desk. The Tech Sergeant was an Asian named Yee, with an athletic build. Captain Dickenson turned to Mike and his team and asked for their military ID cards. He handed their IDs to Tech Sergeant Yee.

  Yee sat down at a computer and started typing. The Tech Sergeant ran a check to verify that they were who they said they were, secured the IDs, and replaced them with security badges. There were two other security guards present, a female Senior Airman, named Trevino, athletic, brown hair, and a gangly, pasty white Staff Sergeant named O’Neill that looked like he spent too much time playing games online. There was a clearing barrel outside, so they went out and cleared the weapons, then brought them back and handed them to O’Neill. The gangly Staff Sergeant gave them chits for their weapons, and secured them behind the desk. After this, Captain Dickenson walked them through security to the building behind.

  Captain Dickenson swiped his badge, “Please swipe as you go through so that security knows where you’re at. Everybody swipes their IDs, no free riders through secure areas.”

  They walked through the front door. As soon as they stepped inside, there was another security desk. The guards there were back up for the guards in the security building out front. The desk was immediately to the right. Behind it were two more Air Force security guards. He couldn’t see their name tags. One was a black female, short hair, curvy, attractive. The other was a very large Samoan, with huge arms. Mike could see that there was an office behind the desk, so there were probably more security guards present.

  Straight ahead was a long hall that led to a large door at the end. Captain Dickenson walked down the hall. The team followed through the building. The building was big, and the front area was filled with offices. On the walls was the typical detritus that washes up on military installations. Mike could see the chain of command in pictures, all the way up to the president. There was also the NCO chain of support on the walls. Further down, there were photos of squadron personnel engaged in family gatherings and sporting events. Commanders’ policy letters were displayed.

  There were smaller corridors that ran off of the main corridor to the left and right. Keeping in tradition with all secure buildings around the world, there were no windows. There were civilians and military alike in the offices. Some offices were open, and there were also secure areas with heavy doors and cypher locks. Need to know and all that; can’t have just anybody wandering through secure areas.

  They walked through the administration offices, straight back through the hallway, then stepped through the door at the end, which led into the back of the building. This area was a supply area, with locked cages spread throughout. There was also a large rolling shutter door that was slowly coiling up into a metal container at the top of the door. Outside, Mike could see the flatbed truck. A forklift was picking up the pallet from the flatbed.

  Rob was looking around and something caught his eye.

  “Is that a . . . ,” and he trailed off.

  Captain Dickenson grinned, “Yep. That’s a refurbished missile launch tube, for a Minuteman two missile. We repurposed it, and the area under it, for our uses.”

  The forklift lifted the pallet off the flatbed. Once the forklift and pallet came through the door, a large man, a Tech Sergeant, clicked the button and the door started closing. The Tech Sergeant was medium height, stocky with muscle and a little fat, light blond hair, cut extremely short. You had to look closely to see the hair. Mike looked at him, and for some reason, while looking at the Tech Sergeant’s head, thought of a big potato.

  As the pallet came in, an Air Force 2nd Lieutenant walked up. An older man was with her. Captain Dickenson introduced her as 2nd Lieutenant Pang, and Mike would find out later that she was Hmong. Her smile made her look like a teenager in junior high. She was about five feet tall, maybe shorter, and very petite, which added to her youthful look. She was very pretty though, with nice curves. Next to her stood an older man, mid-forties, whose hair reminded Mike of a picture of Einstein, though the hair was shorter, salt and pepper. Still the hair looked like it was trying to escape from the top of his head. He was wearing a lab coat. He was introduced as Dr. Humphreys.

  “Ah, we can’t just leave the pallet in a loading bay. It has munitions and weapons on it.” Mike said.

  The forklift moved into the building and over to a service elevator for which the missile tube had been repurposed. Lieutenant Pang smiled at Mike. “Don’t worry, we have a very safe place for it.” The forklift placed the pallet in the middle of the service elevator. The Tech Sergeant stepped into the elevator and walked to a small control panel. There was no door on the front of the elevator. The Tech Sergeant pressed another button and the platform started moving down. The civilian in the forklift drove away.

  Captain Dickenson explained, “We have a secure area below. Your pallet will be there, and I’ll take to you to it tomorrow. We have to get you read on to our program, before I can allow you to go below.”

  Mike nodded, “Not a problem, just let us strip the pallet. Don’t let anybody else touch it until we do. We have everything balanced and know where the explosives are. Plus, we have a few expensive toys on there that don’t need to be knocked around.”

  Captain Dickenson nodded, “We can do that.” Then the meaning of Mike’s words connected, “You mean you have explosives on that pallet? Why do you have explosives?”

  Mike looked at him and then pulled out a manila envelope. The envelope had orders, emails, and the list of requested items, “Because somebody in your command asked us to bring our standard combat load. In our standard combat load, we carry hand grenades of various types, and explosives.”

  “Well, we weren’t expecting that. I’ll make sure that everybody understands that you’re the only ones that touch your pallet.”

  Mike nodded, “Thanks.”

  Lieutenant Pang took over. “Gentlemen, please follow me and we’ll go to the SAP custodian.” The Special Access Program custodian would have non-disclosure agreements for them to sign so that they could have access to classified information.

  The team had no arguments with this. They were all very happy to follow the attractive Lieutenant to the SAP Custodian. They followed Lieutenant Pang to Captain Dickenson’s office first, where they left their backpacks. Then they followed her to the Special Security Office, where the SSO would read them on to the program. The SSO’s office was behind a stout metal, cypher locked door. When they got there, Mr. Landberg, the SSO, took them back into his office and gave them paperwork to fill out. Mr. Landberg was about thirty years old, medium height, brown hair with bangs that were almost long enough to fall into his eyes. He was dressed in business casual.

  He showed them a short film. “Welcome to DARPA project Rossum,” the video stated. They watched the video. As the video continued, their mouths opened in wonder at what they were looking at.

  Everett was the first to speak, “Mech, freaking, Armor. I think I have wood.”

  Mickey replied, “That is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

  Rob added, “I wond
er if the basic model comes in another color.”

  “Screw color, I want mine painted up like a bad ass ninja with pirate flags,” Mike quipped. Captain Dickenson, Lieutenant Pang, and Mr. Landberg started laughing.

  Captain Dickenson spoke to Mr. Landberg. “Mr. Jamison and Colonel Mitchem will want to talk to the team now.”

  Captain Dickenson looked over at the team, “Director Jamison is the director, a civilian GS15 in charge of the program, and Lieutenant Colonel Mitchem is our commanding officer.”

  Mike nodded, and filed the information away. Since Jamison was a GS15, technically, he outranked the Lieutenant Colonel.

  Landberg spoke, “Well, I’m finished, so you can call them now.” He grabbed all of the files and signed forms, and went to his cubicle and sat down at his desk.

  Captain Dickenson got up from his chair, and left the room. After the phone call, he came back, and took a seat. He, Lieutenant Pang, and the team sat around, making small talk until the director and lieutenant colonel came into the room. Captain Dickenson stood as they entered the room. The team and Lieutenant Pang also stood. Mike held out his hand, which was ignored.

  Colonel Mitchem took in their civilian attire with aplomb, but the civilian was surprised, and not happy about it. Colonel Mitchem was trim in his uniform, graying hair around the temple, average height. Jamison was completely different. The guy was twitchy. Mike was uncomfortable looking at the guy. Jamison definitely had a nervous vibe coming from him.

  Jamison was dressed completely in black; black jacket, black turtle neck, and black slacks. He had a shock of white hair, and stood about five foot five, shorter than everybody in the room except for Lieutenant Pang. The shock of white hair made Mike think of a cotton swab. Jamison was slightly hunched over, making him look smaller. A perpetual sneer seemed etched into his face. The guy didn’t look happy. Mike immediately detested him.

  “Who the hell wears turtlenecks anymore?” Mike thought to himself.

  “Who are you? We asked for military, not civilians.”

  Mike started to reply to Jamison. “Sir . . .”

  Jamison ignored him and turned to the Lieutenant Colonel. “I thought you said they were infantry soldiers.”

  LTC Mitchem turned to them, “Are you infantry soldiers?”

  Mike nodded, “We’re all combat soldiers. We all have infantry experience.”

  Jamison still didn’t acknowledge him, “Why are they dressed in civilian clothes? They should be in uniform.” Mike noticed that Jamison didn’t look anybody in the eye as he was talking to them.

  Mike started to speak, “Sir . . .”

  Jamison looked towards Mike, but didn’t look directly at him. His eyes wouldn’t meet Mike’s. He snarled a reply, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Mike tried again, “Sir . . .”

  Jamison slammed his hand on the wood of the table, then pointed at Mike, his face red with anger. Hissing, he said, “I told you to shut up.”

  The entire team grew quiet and still. This was a major breach in decorum. They didn’t like the way Jamison was treating Mike. What made it worse was that LTC Mitchem didn’t seem like he was going to step in to defuse the situation. Dickenson and Pang looked embarrassed. Mike could feel the blood creeping up his neck and into his face. Mike could see the wariness in Mitchem’s face. He didn’t know if it was because of his team or because of Jamison.

  Mitchem spoke, “Why are you in civilian clothes?”

  Mike answered, “This is our uniform, unless we’re directed to wear something else.”

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Inside, he had a memorandum indicating that he and his team were allowed relaxed grooming standards, based on the mission. There was no end date on the memorandum. The memorandum included civilian clothes. He pulled out the memorandum and slid it over to the Colonel. The Colonel started to reach for it, but Jamison got to it first. He snatched up the paper, hands jerking slightly as he read it. He passed the paper to Mitchem. Mitchem took a look at the paper and then passed it back to Mike.

  Jamison looked over at Captain Dickenson, “Make sure they don’t interfere with my people.” He turned and walked out of the office. LTC Mitchem wasn’t fazed by Jamison’s actions.

  Mitchem started speaking. His tone was cold, “You’re going to be helping my team on this project. All of these scientists and techs are highly trained in their specialties. You’ll do exactly what they tell you to do. I’m fairly sure that most of this will be over your head, so don’t interfere with the engineering team. If you break anything, you’re liable for it. If my team gets hurt, you’ll be brought up on charges. If you’re insubordinate to anybody, you’ll be dealing with Mr. Jamison and me. Are there any questions?”

  Mike was livid, and he was sure it showed on his face. He had never been talked down to like that in his life, not even in the Rangers, where discipline was paramount. He knew that these men outranked him, but he was here at their request. He and his team were doing these Air Force people a favor. Hell, Special Operations Command was doing them a favor. The disrespect that was directed towards his team made him want to snap Mitchem and Jamison’s necks. Everett reached over and placed his hand on Mike’s arm. Mitchem noticed the movement.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  Mike swallowed his bile and calmed down. He let his breath out slowly before he answered. “No sir, there’s no problem.”

  Mitchem took in the group. He nodded then turned around and left the room. Mike sat there for a moment, then noticed that everybody was looking at him.

  Rob spoke first, “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, that was weird.”

  Mike turned to Dickenson, “What the hell was that.”

  Dickenson held up a hand, indicating that everybody should have patience. He waited until he heard the heavy security door open and then shut again. He stood up and walked to the door. He looked out into the hall. Evidently he didn’t see anything. He closed the door.

  Dickenson turned back to the team, “Gentlemen, I’m sorry for the command team. They’re,” he paused, trying to phrase his next words correctly, “problematic at times.”

  Mike stared at him, “Really, you call that problematic? I call that psychotic.”

  Lieutenant Pang tried to hide her smirk behind her hand. It was evident that she agreed with Mike’s assessment. Captain Dickenson looked at her with daggers coming out of his eyes.

  Pang tried to recover, but she couldn’t. She started laughing.

  Everett looked her over, “This is funny Lieutenant?”

  She shook her head, “No, I’m relieved to know that others think that Jamison is nuts.”

  Dickenson spoke, “Ah, lieutenant, I don’t think that’s helping.”

  Mickey asked, “Do you think that’s normal? The way Jamison reacted to Mike?”

  Dickenson couldn’t argue Mickey’s point. His posture deflated. “Guys, look, I’m sorry about Director Jamison and LTC Mitchem. I think Mitchem is just trying to keep his job. Jamison is the real problem.”

  Mike wasn’t sympathetic. “You could have warned us.”

  Dickenson looked at him, “Not with the Airmen around I couldn’t. We have the luxury now of being in a room with a closed door, and Mr. Landberg is the only person in the other room. He’s very good at keeping secrets. Jamison is touch and go. Some days he’s okay. Some days, not so much.”

  Mike looked at Dickenson and Pang, “How the hell does somebody that idiotic get put in charge of a program this big?”

  Dickenson sat down, and spread his hands, “We have no idea. He’s a smart guy, like science smart, but he has problems with people that aren’t on his team. I think he is high functioning Autistic. He speaks geek speak with the team, and he does well with his boss, but he has problems when he thinks somebody isn’t giving him respect.”

  Mike looked at Pang, hoping for more information. She looked ba
ck at him, her face blank, “I just work here.”

  Mike just shook his head, “Captain Dickenson, is there anything else we should be aware of while we work in this facility?”

  Dickenson shook his head, “No, the rest of the team is okay, and you should have no more problems with anybody. Just try to stay away from LTC Mitchem and Director Jamison.” He didn’t stop there though, pausing as some memory tugged at his thoughts, “Ah, well, there is one more thing.”

  Everett spread his hands, “Yes?”

  Dickenson looked uncomfortable, “Ah, about Dr. Randall, you may want to stay on her good side. She’s very in tune with the command philosophy around here. She has direct, ah,” he paused, “contact with LTC Mitchem.”

  That comment seemed to be loaded with hidden meaning. Mike wondered what other interesting personality traits people had around this operation, “Okay, anything else?”

  Dickenson looked at Pang, and she shook her head. He looked back at the team.

  Dickenson stood, “No, I don’t think so. Lieutenant Pang and Dr. Humphreys will take you and get you started.”

  Mike nodded. He and the team stood up and followed Lieutenant Pang. Captain Dickenson stood by the door and motioned for Mike to stop and talk.

  “Chief, I’m very sorry about that. My command is touchy.”

  Mike replied, “No, your command are dickheads.”

  A small smile came to Captain Dickenson’s lips. “Your words, not mine.”

  Mike relaxed, “No problem, I have nothing against you guys, but those two need an attitude adjustment. Jamison should be in an institution somewhere.”

  A snort down the hall indicated that Landberg heard Mike’s pronouncement. Landberg’s disembodied voice carried down the hall, “Yep, you got that one right.”

  Dickenson looked over his shoulder towards the cubical that Landberg was sitting in.

  Dickenson seemed like a decent guy. Mike gave him some slack, “Okay, no problems. We’re just here to work.”

  Dickenson had a wry smile on his face, and held his hand out. Mike reached over and shook it. With that, he turned and Mike followed him. Mike hoped that the unpleasantness was over. With luck, he and the team wouldn’t have to interact with Mitchem or Jamison.

  “Well, at least I don’t have to spend more than three weeks here,” he thought.

  Mike followed Captain Dickenson out of the secure area. His team was outside with Lieutenant Pang, Dr. Humphreys and a female Major that they hadn’t met previously. The Major introduced herself, “Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to have you here. My name is Major Joan Nosstrand. I’m the director of the medical detachment here.”

  She was pretty, with light brown hair cut short, blue eyes. The team shook hands and introduced themselves.

  “We received your medical records from your unit, and everything looks great. Dr. Humphreys and I need to do some other tests so that we can prepare you for tomorrow’s activities.”

  Mike elbowed Everett in the ribs. Everett jumped, “What?”

  Mike replied, “If I can see it on your face, then I’m pretty sure everybody else can.”

  Everett’s expression turned sheepish. Evidently, Everett was contemplating his next ex-wife. They caught the last of the Major’s speech, “And if everybody will please follow me, we’ll go to medical and take care of the tests.”

  They walked around the cubicles and followed Major Nosstrand through the hallway back towards a smaller elevator. She stopped and asked, “Does anybody have electronics on them?”

  The team replied no. The Major opened the door and stepped into the elevator. They followed her, Lieutenant Pang and Dr. Humphreys into the elevator. They all had to swipe badges to get the elevator moving. There was only one button on the elevator.

  The elevator stopped, and they walked out to another security station. After complying with security, they were allowed through. They were walking through a vestibule that had a double door, and an elevator with stairs next to it on the right. This elevator had none of the security that the other one had, so Mike assumed they had cleared the last of security. He asked Pang if that was the last security checkpoint.

  Pang nodded. “Yes, but the main office for our security is through the double doors.”

  Everybody stepped into the elevator. This one was smaller, so they were crowded. Mike noticed that there were five buttons on the elevator. Dr. Humphreys pushed the button, and they went to the second floor, one below the level they were currently at. They walked down a long hall, and as they walked, Mike fell in alongside Lieutenant Pang.

  “How did you end up working here?” he asked.

  “Well, I have an undergraduate degree in biology and one in mechanical engineering. I was working on my masters in bio mechanical engineering, and to the Air Force, it seemed like a natural fit.”

  Mike did a double take, “How old are you?”

  She replied, “Twenty-six.”

  Mike frowned, “No offence, but you look like a teenager.”

  “None taken. I get that from everybody I meet. When I’m out with friends, I sometimes get offered the kids menu.”

  Major Nosstrand led the group to an office just off the hall. The room was sixteen by twenty feet. There was not much in the room. There were five helmets lined up along one of the benches, and a single computer. The helmets were primer gray, had no faceplate. There was a strap for the chin. Humphreys walked over to the computer and logged in. Doctor Humphreys took over, “Gentlemen, we’re going to be doing some tests to measure your neuro-motor functions. If you would please, pick up a helmet, and bring it over to me. I’ll scan the bar code on the helmet and then assign it to your profile on the computer.”

  The team grabbed the helmets, and stood in line. The doctor scanned each helmet with a bar code scanner, and as its number came up on the screen, the doctor matched it with the individual holding it. When he finished, he clicked a small switch on the helmet to the on position. The process went quickly.

  “Gentlemen . . .” Doctor Humphreys started.

  Everett spoke, “Doc, if you keep talking about gentlemen, we won’t know who the hell you’re talking to. If you keep talking to the team that way, their egos are just going to keep growing. My team already has to walk sideways through the door to get all of the ego inside.”

  Rob piped up, “Hey, I only need a small wheelbarrow for my ego, speak for yourself.”

  The doctor looked slightly confused at this exchange.

  Major Nosstrand interjected, “Gentlemen, if we could just focus on the task at hand, please.” There was an undercurrent of ice her voice.

  “Yes ma’am,” chorused from the team.

  Dr. Humphreys’ confusion cleared, and he started again, “Gentlemen, would you please place your helmets on. Get a little space around you, and I’ll ask you to perform certain movements. The helmets will track brain activity as we go through them. Now, please move your arms directly in front of you, like this.”

  Dr. Humphreys started demonstrating motions for the team to perform. They ran through the motions, and Lieutenant Pang worked at the computer while Major Nosstrand looked over her shoulder, pointing out different things on the screen. The team did motions with their hands and legs then moved onto different exercises. They jumped up and down, did pushups, sit ups and ran in place. They did a series of stretches.

  Mike couldn’t stand it anymore. The smartass just bubbled up out of him, “What if the hokey pokey is what it’s all about?” Mickey guffawed. Even Major Nosstrand had a smile on her face.

  Dr. Humphreys sat down and looked at the profiles. He was apparently happy with the data that he received, “Gentlemen, most of you are finished. If I could please have Mr. Torres and Mr. D’Inazio stay, I need to rerun some of the movements for the profile.”

  Hoots sounded from the other three members of the team. The words “Fail,” and “La-hoo-ser” were thrown around and repeated as the
y left the office. The phrase, “Hokey Pokey Fail,” was also tossed around.

  Lieutenant Pang showed them where the lounge was and they waited, drinking sodas and eating potato chips. They were joined by Mickey when he finished with profile testing. The chorus of “Loser,” and “Hokey Pokey fail,” started up again.

  Finally, Rob was finished, and Lieutenant Pang brought him to the break room. The day was finished, and it was approaching five pm.

  “So, I guess you guys need to go to housing and get your rental vehicles?” she inquired.

  Mike and the team didn’t see Humpreys or Nosstrand again. They were checking the data set. Lieutenant Pang escorted them out of the secure area, and soon they were standing in the hallway at Captain Dickenson’s office. Captain Dickenson came forward and started talking to them. Lieutenant Pang stood immediately behind him.

  “Gentlemen,” he started.

  “There’s that word again,” Everett muttered.

  “We have security badges for you.”

  Dickenson started passing out the badges to the members of the team. As they took a badge, they had to write down their names, the number on the badge, and then sign next to the number, signifying that they had taken possession of the badge. He handed their military ID cards back to them.

  “Those badges will have to be worn at all times in this building. Security won’t let you in if you don’t have them. Staff Sergeant Drapier will drive you to the car rental, and then you can follow him over to the Malmstrom Inn.”

  “What about tomorrow morning?” Everett asked.

  “What?” Captain Dickenson asked.

  Mike spoke up, “Well, we don’t really know this area. If we could get someone over at the Inn tomorrow, we could follow them back over here, for work.”

  Captain Dickenson nodded, “Not a problem, I can stop by there tomorrow morning. How about 7:30? That will get us here at around 8 o’clock.”

  “That will work fine, thanks,” Mike replied.

  Lieutenant Pang escorted them out to security, where they secured their weapons. The van was still there. They piled into the vehicle. Lieutenant Pang told them goodnight, and went back into the building. All eyes were on her as she walked away. She turned back before she walked into security, and caught them all watching. She smiled and went inside.

  “I think I’m in love,” Rob said.

  Tom spoke, “Don’t tell my wife, but I think I’m in love, too.”

  Mike punched him in the arm, and the team started talking about Lieutenant Pang. Shortly afterward, Staff Sergeant Drapier came out and got into the driver’s seat.

  “Where do you need to go?” he asked.

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