The leader stiffened at the reproach. “Of course not, sir. But we are prepared to deal with them.”
“Very well.” Maskiro felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline course through him and felt a brief flash of regret that his responsibilities required him to remain at the airport. How he would have enjoyed watching them take the base! “Keep me posted,” he said, regret in his voice. “I want to know the second that the military base is secured.”
Lab Rat was at the terminal building, waiting for his flight to be called. The senior chief would be flying back out to
It was evident that the senior chief had made up his mind to accept Omicron’s offer, and his enthusiasm for his new life was evident. There was a new fire in his eyes comprised of equal parts hope and expectancy. No, he had not slacked off on a standard military bearing or courtesy, but Lab Rat could sense it was chafing at him. The senior chief seemed to be yearning for his new civilian world. He would no longer be kept out of certain decision- making loops because he was only a senior chief, not an officer, even though he was far more qualified to command than many officers Lab Rat had met. Now, the senior chief would take his much-delayed and well-deserved place in the highest levels of management.
For his own part, Lab Rat felt confused. He still had two years to go before he could retire from the Navy, and the idea of wasting those eighteen years of service without staying for retirement was deeply troubling. No, not wasted — but he worked hard for it, hadn’t he?
But wouldn’t his work at Omicron make a difference as well? Maybe even more than staying in the Navy, if the system were truly deployable. Lab Rat leaned back, felt the hard plastic edge of the seat cutting into the back of his neck. Choices, too many choices.
It was all too much. He would get back to the ship, think it over, see if his world seemed different now that he knew he had options.
“Mr. Busby?” a voice asked. Lab Rat opened his eyes, immediately on edge but determined not to show it. It wasn’t someone in the Navy — no one in the Navy would call a full commander “mister.” Not unless he was in serious trouble.
“Yes?” Lab Rat answered.
There was a man in the seat next to him. His hair was too long for military, and he was dressed in jeans and a casual sweater. An expensive watch gleaned at his wrist. He held out his hand. “Bill Carter, from Omicron. I wanted to catch up with you and make my pitch before you headed back out to the ship.”
Lab Rat pulled himself upright in the chair, and rolled his neck. “Your people already made a pretty strong case, Bill. I’m not sure what you could add.”
“Pretty impressive stuff, wasn’t it?” Carter asked, as though Lab Rat had not spoken. “And Armstrong speaks highly of you. He asked me to take another shot at getting you on board.”
“Senior Chief Armstrong knows I’m not even eligible to retire.”
Carter nodded. “I know, he was very clear about that. But he’s really hot and heavy on getting you on the team, too. I know you’re the only person he’s considering for his number-two slot.”
That got Lab Rat’s attention. “His number two?”
Carter looked puzzled. “Yes, of course. You’d be working directly for Armstrong as his chief of staff. And I must say, we have a number of people who are very eager to take the slot — and who are very well-qualified.”
Somehow, this particular configuration of responsibilities had not occurred to Lab Rat. He just assumed that if they were both at Omicron — well, but that didn’t make sense, did it? The senior chief had extensive experience with the system, had even been involved in the development.
“I see,” Lab Rat said slowly.
“I wanted to introduce you to what we might call a signing bonus. You can think of it as a buyout offer.” Carter extracted a sheaf of papers and handed them to him. “If you agree to come on board with Omicron, we will give you an annuity that will pay you an amount each month equivalent to what your current retirement pay would be. The payments start two years after you sign up with us, and are guaranteed whether or not you stay. In other words, you live on your Omicron salary for two years, and then start getting your Navy retirement just when you would have originally.”
Lab Rat’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m quite serious. Here, look over the details and talk to the lawyer on the ship. Armstrong can fill you in on anything you need to know. And as for living on your Omicron salary, well — how does triple your current pay sound?”
Lab Rat felt stunned. This was all moving too fast.
Just then, Lab Rat’s flight was called. He stood and slipped the papers Carter had given him into the side pocket of his suitcase. “I’ll think about it.”
“Nice to meet you, Lab Rat,” Carter said easily.
Lab Rat groaned. It was clear that the senior chief had made the nickname known to Omicron.
“Just let Armstrong know when you reach a decision,” Carter continued. “I hope to be working with you next year. I think you’ll find that it’s very gratifying to make a difference for world peace.”
“I’ve got to get going,” Lab Rat said. “Yes, I’ll let the senior chief know.”
“Officers first,” a flight technician called. Lab Rat walked numbly to the front of line, aware of just how much his way of life would disappear if he accepted Omicron’s offer. And, yet, it was still very generous — and very very tempting.
Just as he reached the gate, a petty officer wearing headphones stopped him. “There a problem?” Lab Rat asked, suddenly anxious to be back on
“Don’t know, sir. I’m getting reports that — hold on—” And then the petty officer’s jaw dropped and his face turned pale. “Holy shit.” He turned to Lab Rat, disbelief in his eyes. “Sir, we’ve been put on hold. Three unscheduled troop transports just landed in Bermuda.”
“So?” Lab Rat said.
“They’re Russian, sir. Russian. They’re not on any flight plan and now the tower in Bermuda is not answering up.
The petty officer nodded, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the voice coming over his headphones. “Might as well go back into the terminal, sir. We’re cleared to launch in twenty minutes — as soon as a fighter escort arrives!”
If anything, the sunset was even more glorious than sunrise had been. Ensign Forsythe made his rounds below decks, checking each watch station, observing the general condition of the ship. He stopped by Cowlings’s stateroom and gave him a brief rundown on the status of the ship, including engineering plan configuration, depth of water in the bilges, and the status of shore power. When he was done, Cowlings nodded. “It’s been a quiet watch
