On Distant Shores (Exiles Triology Book 1) (10 page)

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.  Commander’s 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.  There were some that were open, and there were also secure areas with heavy doors andcypher 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 of the hallway, a door that 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 2
nd
Lieutenant walked up.  An older man was with her.  Captain Dickenson introduced her as 2
nd
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 reached him, “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 almost were 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 have ever seen.”

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

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

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

Captain Dickenson looked over at the team, “Director Jamison is the director, a civilian GS-15 in charge of the program, and Lieutenant Colonel Mitchem is our commanding officer.”

Mike nodded, and filed the information away.  Since Jamison was a GS-15, 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 left the room.

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 taken aback.  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 anervous vibe coming from him.  He 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 are 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 not meeting 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 Colonel 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 is 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 put his finger to his mouth, 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, . . . , problematic at times.”

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

Lieutenant Pang tried to hide her smile 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 is 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, I’m sorry about Director Jamison and LTC Mitchem.  I think Mitchem is just trying to keep his job.  Jamison is the real problem.”