he acknowledged, taking her hand in his. “I spent most of last night reviewing medical records. Yours were particularly interesting.”
Jill just bet they were.
“I’d like to hear more about your reaction to the vaccine you were administered after exposure to the Nipah virus in Honduras last year. Your records indicated you went into shock.”
Well, that was one of the more original pick-up lines Jill had ever heard. Evidently Kate thought so, too. She flashed Richardson a hundred-megawatt smile.
“Anytime, Doc.”
When he blinked, looking more than a little stunned, Jill checked her watch and suggested they continue their conversation inside.
Excitement hummed through the air inside the large, open dining area. Jill and the other two joined the group of officers at the front of the room. A petite brunette introduced herself as Lieutenant Caroline Dunn, Coast Guard. The buzz-cut marine beside her was Major Russ McIver. The senior Air Force rep arrived a moment later. Before he could make the rounds and introduce himself, a voice bellowed at the back of the crowd.
“Room! Ha-tennnn-shun!”
Eighty-two backs went blade stiff. One hundred and sixty-four knees locked. Chests out, arms straight at their sides, hands curled into fists, the entire test cadre stood at rigid attention while Captain Sam Westfall strode to the podium at the front of the room. Even the few civilians almost lost among the sea of uniforms squared their shoulders.
The captain kept the group at attention while his gray eyes skimmed the room. There wasn’t a sound. Not so much as the shuffle of a foot or the creak of a sagging floorboard. When it seemed he’d looked every man and women present in the eye at least once, Captain Westfall put them at ease and told them to take their seats. When the scrape of chairs and rumble of everyone getting settled had died, he gave the room at large a flinty smile.
“I think you should know up-front I’ve reviewed the personnel files on each and every one of you. Most of you I handpicked for this assignment. You represent the best of the best from each of your services, all seven of which are represented in this test cadre. For that reason, you’ll be issued a special unit patch during in-processing.”
With a nod, he signaled his executive officer to come forward. The Army captain carried a large poster, placed it on a metal easel, and flipped up the top sheet. Underneath was a classic shield-shaped design. The bottom two thirds of the shield was red. The top third showed a blue field studded with silver stars.
“Please note we’ve included one star for each of the seven uniformed services,” Westfall pointed out, reaching into his shirt pocket for a collapsible pointer. He extended the metal rod and issued a request. “I’d like the senior representative to stand as I name their service. In order of precedence, they are…”
The pointer’s tip whipped against a star.
“The United States Army. Founded June, 1775.”
As the senior Army officer on-site, Jill stood and acknowledged the chorus of hoo-ah’s that rose from the grunts in the audience. When the noise faded, the captain’s pointer whapped another star.
“The United States Navy, founded October, 1775. I have the honor of being the senior rep from the sea service.”
The squids responded with a stamp of booted feet.
“The United States Marine Corps, founded November, also 1775.”
Major Russ McIver, the senior leatherneck present, led a round of “Semper Fi’s.”
“The United States Coast Guard, dating back to the Colonial Lighthouse Service established in 1789 and the Revenue Cutter Service, founded shortly thereafter.”
Lieutenant Caroline Dunn stood. The only Coast Guard rep assigned to the test cadre, the petite brunette rendered a smart salute.
“Next,” Westfall continued, “the United States Public Health Service, which traces its origins to the 1798 act that provided for the care of America’s sick and injured merchant seamen.”
“That’s me,” Dr. Richardson said, standing to nod at the crowd.
“The National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Agency, established in 1870.”
Kate Hargrove was the NOAA rep to the cadre. When the gorgeous redhead stood to acknowledge her service, a murmur of masculine appreciation rippled through the crowd.
“Last but certainly not least,” the captain said with a nod to the blue-suiters in the audience, “the United States Air Force. Formerly the Army Air Corps, it was established as a separate service in 1947.”
The AF senior rep was a tall, ramrod-straight pilot with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines around his eyes. Belying his status as a member of the “baby” service, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Thompson looked tough and experienced and well able to serve as deputy director of the Pegasus Project.
Westfall let the assembled crowd enjoy the spirit of good-natured rivalry for a moment or two before continuing.
“Each of the seven uniformed services has a history rich in tradition. Each has provided long years of honorable service to our country. I know you’re proud, as I am, to wear the distinctive insignia of your branch or corps. I would remind you, though, of the oath each of you took when you joined the military. To protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. That oath transcends your individual services. As of this moment, your first allegiance will be to each other…and to the project that has brought us here.”
At a nod from the captain, his exec added an overlay to the shield. When the transparent overlay settled, a milky-white winged stallion reared on the field of red, white, and blue. Westfall let everyone in the room get a good look.
“Welcome to Project Pegasus, ladies and gentlemen. We are now one team, with one mission. Before any of us leaves this corner of the desert, the new all-weather, all-terrain attack/transport vehicle known as Pegasus will be certified to run with the wind, swim the oceans and fly to the stars. Your country is depending on you to make it happen.”
The terse pronouncement killed any tendencies toward levity among the assembled personnel.
“You’ll receive more detailed briefings on the vehicle when it arrives tomorrow. Today you’ll get security and area threat briefings, be issued your site IDs and go through a medical screening.”
The captain collapsed his pointer with a snap.
“Major Bradshaw, I’ll turn the group over to you now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jill stood at attention with the others while Captain Westfall departed. When he’d cleared the building, she moved to the podium. As she looked out over the sea of faces, the realization that she was responsible for both their safety and their adherence to ultrastrict security measures hit her smack in the chest.
One compromise of classified test information, and her neck would be on the block. One physical breach of the Pegasus site, and she could kiss her career goodbye.
Her glance slid to Cody Richardson, lingered a moment, shifted back
