Strike Zone

Zen used the “open” number for Dreamland, which actually connected through Nellis Air Force Base. It was highly likely, of course, that the conversation was being recorded, and so he had to be careful exactly what he said. Still, he wanted to talk to Bree.

“This is Major Stockard,” he told the operator on duty who answered. “I’m looking for Captain Stockard.”

“Yes, sir!” snapped the operator.

The line clicked, and a few seconds later, a male voice answered.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s this?” asked Zen.

“Deke James. Who’s this?”

“Zen Stockard.”

“Why’d you wake me up for?” said James.

“I’m looking for my wife,” said Zen.

“She ain’t here.”

Zen felt his jealousy spiking up — what the hell was James doing in their apartment?

“I want to talk to Bree,” he said.

“Yeah?”

The line went dead. Zen held the phone out, confused and angry. Deke was one of the engineer dweebs on the Unmanned Bomber Project.

What the hell was he doing in their apartment?

He was just about to put the phone down and try again when someone suddenly picked up on the other end of the line.

“Major!”

“Ax?”

“What, you’re away a few days and you forget who runs this place?” said Chief Master Sergeant Gibbs.

“How’d I get you?”

“Just lucky I guess. Deke James transferred you. Why’d you call him? What’d you do, wake him up?”

“I got the wrong number. What time is it there?”

“About 2100. He goes to bed early. Want to talk to your wife?”

“It’d be nice,” said Zen.

“Hold the phone. And listen, Zen — you kicked butt big time. We’re prouder than hell of you.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

Zen waited while the line once more went cold. Another voice picked up — male.

“Hey hero,” said Greasy Hands Parsons.

“Grease — what the hell are you doing?”

“Partying with your wife,” said Parsons. If Ax ran the administrative side of Dreamland — and he did — Greasy Hands essentially owned the planes. The chief master sergeant and Zen had known each other pretty much forever.

“She’s okay to party?” said Zen.

“Better than ever,” said the chief.

“Give me that phone,” said Breanna in the background.

“Bree—”

“Jeff—”

Her voice was like a spell. He felt his body suddenly relax.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Am I okay?” she said. “I’m fine. How the hell are you?”

“Just tired. I want to see you.”

She laughed. He could hear her talk to the room. “Hey, I got Zen on the phone—”

There was a general shout. Zen made out some congratulations from the assorted tumult.

“Where are you?” he asked, but Bree didn’t hear. Someone took the phone from her.

“Zen?”

“Hey, Jennifer. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” she said, with a tone that seemed to be meant to reassure herself as well as him. “Is Colonel Bastian there?”

“No, he’s hooked up with some ceremonies and crap,” said Zen.

“Tell him I said hello, okay?”

“I will. I think your program helped us nail the clone.”

She didn’t answer. Zen imagined seeing her turn red and push back her long, strawberry blond hair.

Breanna took the phone back. “So?” she asked.

“So what?”

“When you coming home?” Bree asked.

“Haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Well, get moving, Major. Get the lead out. Here, listen, everybody wants to say hello.”

Zen didn’t particularly want to talk to them, but somehow it felt as if it was his duty to. He leaned back in his wheelchair and listened as Breanna reminded them it was an open line.

“DEATH OF THE DOGFIGHT”: AN INTERVIEW WITH DALE BROWN

Interviewer: You began your first novel, Flight of the Old Dog, while you were still serving in the U.S. Air Force. What did your colleagues think of this?

Dale Brown: I never really told anybody what I was doing. Most of them thought I was just playing computer games. The others thought I was wasting my time. I enjoyed proving them wrong!

Interviewer: To what degree do you plan your novels before starting to write?

Dale Brown: Probably not as much as I should. When I get an idea, I research it, and if I get some exciting info or background, I’ll write a short outline for my editor, tweak it a little, then get busy.

Interviewer: Is there such a thing as a typical writing day for you? If so, what form does it take?

Dale Brown: Most days start at nine a.m. and go to four p.m., then restart at nine p.m. and go to eleven p.m. I usually rewrite in the morning and write new scenes in the afternoon and evenings. But every day is different. Some days the scenes flow like water — the next day it’s as dry as a desert. But the important thing is to be in the seat with the computer on, ready to go.

Interviewer: Dreamland is the first novel in a new series you’re co-writing with Jim DeFelice. Can you give us an idea of how the writing process works?

Dale Brown: It should be bylined “Jim DeFelice with Dale Brown,” by the way. I invented the basic backdrop of the “Dreamland” series — the time, place, circumstances. I help develop the plot and the characters, and I review the manuscript. Jim does everything else. He’s an incredibly talented writer and we work well together.

Interviewer: As well as describing the development of the weapons and their use in combat,Dreamland also details the crucial political background to the military action. Which part do you prefer writing?

Dale Brown: I prefer describing weapons and technology by far. But the fighting is actually just a tiny fraction of the conflict. The political/diplomatic stuff is not as exciting sometimes, but it’s every bit as important to the story.

Interviewer: Dreamland’s characters — “Dog” Bastian; his daughter, Bree Stockard; her husband, “Zen”; Mack “Knife” Smith — all face different challenges and all have different goals in mind at the beginning of the novel. To what extent are they based on real people?