Delta Green - [55]

In a way, it did, but the fuels were loaded in canisters attached to warheads. The ordnance section stored Wasp IIs, Phoenix IIs, laser-guided bombs, and other goodies that would only bother the consciences of some of the civilian scientists who lived aboard the station for a few weeks at a time.

“Mornin’, Colonel,” Embry said.

“Hi, Bert. I want you to re-rig all the birds.”

“Will do, sir. What’s the setup?”

“Short pylons outboard, each with two Phoenix, and long pylons inboard, each with four Wasp IIs.”

“Pull the Chain Guns?” Embry asked.

“Yeah. We’re not going to get close enough to use them. Let’s set up the forward bays with eight Wasp IIs also.”

Each of the two cargo bays on the MakoShark could accept a specially designed missile launcher which rotated, like the cylinder on a pistol, one missile after another into firing position.

“How about the aft bays, Colonel?”

“We’ll leave them empty for now. The way things are going, something else may come up.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Embry promised.

McKenna pulled himself out into the B-l corridor, which traversed the hub between the hangar side and the working and office spaces side. He headed down the corridor, away from the center of the hub.

“I’m afraid not, sir. You’ll have to turn around and go back.”

McKenna caught a grab bar and stopped himself at a cross corridor when he heard Benny Shalbot’s voice. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Shalbot speaking with such politeness. Looking down the well-lit passageway, he saw Shalbot’s squat body blocking access to one of the contract scientists, identifiable by the white jumpsuit the civilians wore.

“Not only are my taxes subsidizing your salary, Sergeant, but my company is being charged exorbitant fees for use of laboratories we already own as taxpayers. I’m entitled to see what we’re paying for.”

“Yes sir, I’m sure that’s right. However, sir, I’m not in the finance section, and you’ll have to talk to General Overton about that.”

“Sergeant…”

“They just pay me to do my part in national defense,” Shalbot said. “Right now, sir, that’s keeping classified information classified.”

McKenna glanced down the B-l corridor and saw that the window overlooking Delta Blue’s hangar was darkened, but the hatchway was open as technicians moved in and out.

He was about to go to Shalbot’s assistance when the civilian abruptly grabbed a handhold and pushed off in the opposite direction.

Shalbot put his toe against the same grab bar, flexed it, and came drifting back toward McKenna.

“That was an amazing display of diplomacy, Benny.” Shalbot jerked his head up. “Oh, Colonel. Didn’t know you were there.”

“You handled that very well,” McKenna said.

“What we need, we need signs posted that say, ‘Any egghead beyond this point gets his ass shot off.’”

“Less tactful, Benny, but it makes a point.”

“Or this chickenshit outfit could spring for some of those expanding gates, that keep kids from falling into the basement. Put’em up at the end of the corridor.”

“They would probably open them up anyway.”

“Only once, if I electrify ’em”

“Another good point, Benny.”

Shalbot shoved off up the B-l tunnel, and McKenna continued on down it, stopping to check on Haggar and Conover, who were overseeing the maintenance of their MakoSharks.

McKenna told them about the ordnance configuration he had ordered.

“New tactics, Kevin?” Haggar asked.

“Maybe. We’ll see if Amy has come up with anything new. Right now, get the birds bedded down, then yourselves. We’ll brief at 1700 hours in the exercise room.”

With a powerful kick off a hangar control console, McKenna shot on down the corridor to the perimeter hallway, trying to make up his mind whether to go left to Spoke Sixteen and crawl into his cubicle for a long nap or go right and check in with Overton, then crawl into his office for a long nap. He went right.

He traversed the Number One spoke and entered the Command Center. He stuck his head into Pearson’s office and found her concentrating on three screens full of data. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“McKenna,” she said in a low, deadly voice.

“Something wrong?”

“I’m trying to work.”

He was about to attempt a soothing reply when Overton turned from the main console and spotted him.

“Okay, everyone!” Overton said. “Go take a coffee break.”

The three technicians monitoring systems looked up, then unfastened their tethers, and headed for the hatch.

“Sergeant Amber,” Overton called, “you, too.”

Donna Amber emerged from the radio shack, smiled at McKenna, and slipped out the hatch.

McKenna looked to the commander.

“I want all colonels in here with me”

Pearson gave McKenna a dirty look, released her straps, and pushed out of the compartment.

McKenna followed her and took up a station opposite Overton, hanging onto a wire conduit.

The general didn’t look happy, McKenna decided.

“The size of my general staff being what it is,” Overton said, “I’m also the G-l. Right?”

“Right, sir,” Pearson said.

McKenna nodded.

The G-l was responsible for personnel, and Overton’s job was tougher than most. He had to be sensitive to the relationships within his command, and because of its claustrophobic nature, eliminate problems before they caused severe fluctuations in morale.