The senior chief’s regard for his commander was, if possible, even higher than the commander’s opinion of the senior chief, although he found himself constantly resisting the urge to pat his boss on the head. Lab Rat had a sharp, incisive mind, and tolerated no bullshit within his department. And he took good care of his people, with the ferocity of a Jack Russell terrier, and the senior chief had seen the commander rip a new asshole in more than one person who had failed to treat the intelligence specialist right, most notably the chief of staff on board the United States.
Yes, it was easy to underestimate Lab Rat. Once.
The senior chief himself was a tall man, well muscled, and strongly built. His features were craggy, his hair dark and slightly longer than his boss’s. As much as Lab Rat’s face was open and trusting — gullible, some would call it — the senior chief’s was distant and cool. They were an odd-looking pair, but their strengths and weaknesses complemented each other nicely, and the senior chief had to admit the commander was one of the best bosses he’d ever had. The commander’s annual evaluation had earned him his last promotion, and he figured if he could keep up with a kid, he would probably make master chief before he left the ship.
“Who knows what they’ll do, Senior Chief?” Lab Rat said as he walked briskly down a line of cars. “They’re talking about a tiger team, a special unit that they can fly out for a particular area of the world. But we know how that usually works.”
“Yep. A tiger team isn’t always the answer, although I wouldn’t mind some experts around when something goes down.”
“Agreed,” Lab Rat said slowly, momentarily forgetting his search for the missing Renault. “But, I’m not really sure that’s what this entire meeting was about.”
“Sir?” The senior chief played dumb, although he had had the suspicion that something was up. But, you had to wait for the officers to get around telling you on their own terms.
“That night you were out with the chiefs…” The senior chief winced at the memory, as the evening had dissolved into a night of mourning his lost Bermuda liberty in a series of increasingly interesting bars in the D.C. area. He counted it as one of Lab Rat’s strengths that he had not commented on his appearance the next morning. “I spent some time with the two star’s staff. There were a lot of questions about our experiences with satellites. And then there were a couple of defense contractors there as well, some guys from Omicron.” Lab Rat shook his head, not entirely certain he really understood what was going on. “You know much about lasers, Senior Chief?”
“A little, sir,” the senior chief said, his voice suddenly distant.
Lab Rat shot him a sharp glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s what mean, sir?”
“You said ‘a little.’ And then you got that look on your face.”
The senior chief pointed at the far end of the lot. “Isn’t that your car over there, sir?”
Lab Rat stopped dead. “Forget the car for a minute. That look — you had that look.”
“What look would that be, Commander?” The senior chief sounded faintly aggrieved.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lab Rat shook his finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, Senior Chief.”
He gets in these moods, you’d think he was six feet tall, the senior chief thought to himself. I don’t care how big he is, he’s got the voice down cold.
The senior chief sighed, stuck his hands in his pocket and stared up at the sky. “I’ve spent a lot of my time in the Navy staring at computer screens, sir. Some of it has been more interesting than others. Like the tour I spent at Cheyenne Mountain.”
“Oh.” Lab Rat’s mouth snapped shut. Whatever the senior chief had been doing at the Space Command was far too classified to be discussed in any parking lot. “Yes, I think that is my car.”
“What do you guess, maybe a quarter mile away?” The senior chief asked.
“About that.”
Lab Rat forgot about the cold for a while as they trudged toward his car. The news that the senior chief had spent a fair amount of time at the joint command located deep under Cheyenne Mountain was not surprising, although he had not known it before. That would explain how much he’d known about Cobra Dane and Cobra Judy, the long-range over-the-horizon sensors that had been so critical during the Taiwan-China conflict. It would explain a lot about his ability to glean information from satellite photos as well.
“They asked me about you, too, Senior Chief,” Lab Rat said slowly. “About when you were going to retire.”
Lab Rat took some satisfaction at seeing shock flash across the older man’s face. “Omicron’s got its eyes on you.”
“No kidding.”
Lab Rat nodded. “They seemed to know a lot about you. They want you real bad, Senior Chief. And me, too, for some reason. I take it you know what this is about?”
The senior chief seemed lost in thought. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I do. When we get back on board, I’ll tell you what I know.”
For the rest of the trip back to the hotel, the senior chief was silent. He seemed to be deep in thought, as though considering his options. Lab Rat couldn’t blame him, but wished he knew which way he was leaning on the retirement issue.
Whatever the senior chief made in the Navy, and it wasn’t nearly as much as Lab Rat made, he was underpaid. There were people in the civilian world that recognized that, and could offer far more money than the Navy ever dreamed possible. The senior chief had a wife and three kids to support, and Lab Rat knew the prospect of putting all three kids through college was on his mind. Although he would hate to see him go, Lab Rat couldn’t blame him if he retired and took a high-paying civilian job.
For his own part, the senior chief was following a similar train of thought. Sure, of course he had thought about working for them after he retired. But that had always been sometime in the far future, not even very real to him. Someday, he would leave the Navy. Maybe at twenty years, maybe at thirty years. He liked the Navy, despite the low pay, long hours, and time away from home. He wasn’t sure how he would fit in wearing a suit.
But if Omicron was asking about him, then that meant that they were moving ahead on Brilliant Pebbles. It was a follow-on to the Reagan Star Wars concept, an antiballistic missile defense system intended to guarantee the security of the continental United States. Using a dedicated network of satellites, high-intensity lasers, and long-range antimissile missiles, Brilliant Pebbles looked quite attractive on paper. Sure, there were a number of technical difficulties to work out, mostly those involving the scattering of the laser beams in the atmosphere and command and control circuitry for the antimissile missiles. But if they were talking to JCS and Commander Busby, he was willing to bet that they’d made progress on whipping the technical issues. Made progress, and were ready to go into field-testing. And that, the senior chief thought, was something he very much wanted to be a part of.
And maybe the commander wanted to be part of it, too. “Sir?” the senior chief said slowly, trying to figure out how to tactfully broach the subject. “Would you be interested in seeing what some of the systems can do these days? I could arrange a demonstration.”
Lab Rat stared at him. “You could?”
The senior chief flushed. “Yes, well — yes, I could. And I think you’d be interested in what Omicron has going on.”
Lab Rat smiled at him like a bemused parent surprised by a prodigal child. “Sure, Senior Chief. If you can set it up, I’d like to see it.”