“chief of security for the site.”
A brown-eyed blonde in desert fatigues and an armband with MP stenciled in big white letters, the major held out her hand. “Good to have you on board, Captain. Come by Rattlesnake Ops after the briefing and we’ll get you officially cleared in.”
“Will do.”
The petite brunette next to Bradshaw smiled a welcome. “Lieutenant Caroline Dunn, Coast Guard. Welcome to Project Pegasus, Captain Scott.”
“Thanks.”
Dave liked her on the spot. From what he’d read of the woman’s résumé, she’d racked up an impressive number of hours in command of a Coast Guard cutter. He appreciated both her experience and her warm smile.
“Dr. Cody Richardson,” Westfall said next, indicating a tall, black-haired officer in khakis. The silver oak leaf on Richardson’s left collar tab designated his rank. On the right tab was the insignia of the Public Health Service—an anchor with a chain fouling it.
A world-renowned expert in biological agents, Richardson held both an M.D. and a Ph.D. His mission was to test the nuclear, biological and chemical defense suite installed in Pegasus. He also served as on-site physician.
“Heard you provided ambulance service this morning,” the doc commented, taking Dave’s hand in a firm, no-nonsense grip.
“I did. How’s your patient?”
His patient answered for herself. Stepping forward, Lieutenant Commander Hargrave gave Dave a cool smile.
“Fit for duty and ready to get to work.”
He sure couldn’t argue with the “fit” part. Damned if he’d ever seen anyone fill out a flight suit the way Kate Hargrave did. She, too, wore fire-retardant Nomex, but hers was the NOAA version—sky blue instead of the military’s pea green. The zippered, one-piece bag sported an American flag on the left shoulder, a leather name patch above her left breast and NOAA’s patch above her right. A distinctive unit emblem was Velcroed to her right shoulder.
It featured a winged stallion on a classic shield-shaped device. The bottom two-thirds of the shield was red. The top third showed a blue field studded with seven silver stars. Captain Westfall saw Dave eyeing the patch and reached into his pocket.
“This is for you. I issued one to the entire test cadre when we first assembled. The winged steed speaks for itself. The stars represent each of the seven uniformed services.”
Dave’s glance swept the assembled group once more. They were all there, all seven. Army. Navy. Marine Corps. Air Force. Coast Guard. Public Health Service. And NOAA, as represented by the delectable Kate Hargrave. The four military branches. Three predominately civilian agencies with small cadres of uniformed officers.
Dave had been assigned to some joint and unified commands before, but never one with this diversity. Despite their variations in mission and uniform, though, each of these officers had sworn the same oath when they were commissioned. To protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies.
Dave might possess a laid-back attitude toward life in general, but he took that oath very seriously. No one who’d served in combat could do otherwise.
Captain Westfall took a few moments more to introduce the project’s senior civilian scientists and engineers. That done, he and the entire group walked Dave over to the vehicle they’d gathered to test and—hopefully!—clear for operational use.
Pegasus was as sweet up close as it had looked from across the hangar. Long, cigar-shaped, with a bubble canopy, a side hatch and fat, wide-tracked wheels. Designed to operate on land, in the air and in water. The gray-haired Captain Westfall stroked the gleaming white fuselage with the same air of proud propriety a horse breeder might give the winner of the Triple Crown.
“You’re seeing the craft in its swept-wing mode,” he intoned in his deep voice.
Dave nodded, noting the propellers were folded flat, the engines tilted to horizontal, and the wings tucked almost all the way into the belly of the craft.
“The wide-track wheels allow Pegasus to operate on land in this mode.”
“And damned well, too,” Dr. Richardson put in with a quick glance at the trim blond Major Bradshaw.
“We encountered some unexpected difficulties during the mountain phase of land operations,” she told Dave. “You know about the virus that hit the site and affected Bill Thompson’s heart. It hit me, too, while I was up in the mountains conducting a prerun check. Cody… Dr. Richardson and Major McIver rode Pegasus to the rescue.”
She’d corrected her slip into informality quickly, but not before Dave caught the glance she and the doc exchanged. Well, well. So it wasn’t all work and no play on the site after all.
“Glad to hear Pegasus can run,” Dave commented. “The real test will be to see if he can fly.”
He saw at once he’d put his foot in it. Backs stiffened. Eyes went cool. Even Caroline Dunn, the friendly Coast Guard officer, arched an eyebrow.
“Pegasus is designed as a multiservice, all-weather, all-terrain assault vehicle,” Captain Westfall reminded him. “Our job is to make sure it operates equally well on land, on water and in the air.”
There was only one answer to that. Dave gave it.
“Yes, sir.”
He recovered a little as the walk-around continued and the talk turned to the specifics of the craft’s power, torque, engine thrust and instrumentation. Dave had done his homework, knew exactly what was required to launch Pegasus into the air. By the end of the briefing, his hands were itching to wrap around the throttles.
The rest of the day was taken up with the administrivia necessary in any new assignment. Major Bradshaw gave Dave a security briefing and issued a high-tech ID that not only cleared him into the site but also tracked his every movement. Doc Richardson conducted an intake interview and medical assessment. The senior test engineers presented detailed briefings of Pegasus’s performance during the land tests.
By the time 7:00 p.m. rolled around, Dave’s stomach was issuing noisy feed-me demands. The sandwich he and the briefers had grabbed for lunch had long since ceased to satisfy the needs of his six-two frame. He caught the tail end of the line at the dining hall and joined a table of troops in desert fatigues.
Like the officer cadre, enlisted personnel at the site came from every branch of the service. Army MPs provided security. Navy personnel operated most of the support facilities. Air force troops maintained the site’s extensive communications and computer networks. The marine contingent was small, Dave learned, only about ten noncoms whose expertise was essential in testing Pegasus’s performance as a troop transport and forward-insertion vehicle.
He scarfed down a surprisingly delicious concoction of steak and enchiladas, then returned to the unit he shared with Russ McIver to unpack and stow his gear. McIver wasn’t in residence and the unpacking didn’t take long. All Dave had brought with him was an extra flight suit, a set of blues on the off chance he’d have to attend some official function away from the site, workout sweats, jeans, some comfortable shirts and one pair of dress slacks. His golf shoes and clubs he left in the truck. With any luck, he’d get Pegasus soaring the first time up and
