Dragonslayers: Critical Mass Part 2

Acknowledgments

Eric A. Shalita, Col, USAF, Ret

William Shaver, SSgt, USA, Ret

William W. Williams, MSgt, USAF, Ret

Pat Rowe

Karen Pavilca

Heather Kugler

Josh Clarke

Jennifer Maslowski

Jake Drake—author (RIP)

Micah McGuire

Keith Runquist

Aino Marja Lehmoinen Negaard

Johnny Neace

Oksana Raft

Belinda G. Buchanan—author

Rich and Rod Vaughn

Jacqueline Rhode

Heidi Taylor, PhD

Editing

Joyce M. Gilmour

Artwork

Badger and Wolverine: Erika Brown

Chameleon Skin: Becky Adams

Team drawings: Jason Sturgill

xenosketch.blogspot.com

Cover

Copyright:

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Idir Erakat drove into a park and turned off the car. He looked around to see if he’d been followed. Taking his cell phone, he got out and disappeared into a thicket of trees. He walked for some distance before stopping. There was a fallen log next to a tree. Erakat sat down and removed the phone from his pocket. Scanning the area, he wanted to make sure he was alone. If anyone from Jamaat ul-Fuqra got wind of what he was doing, they’d kill him. Omar al-Qatil had been pressuring him about doing an airline bombing, and Erakat knew he couldn’t carry it out.

Dialing the phone, he waited, still scanning the area. The forest was quiet, a few birds singing. It was cold, and he hoped he could complete the call quickly.

Hello? a male voice said on the other end of the line.

It’s me, Erakat replied.

Status?

I’m getting a lot of pressure from al-Qatil to do the airline bombing.

So, go ahead.

What?!

Take the bomb, put it on the plane, but don’t arm it. Tell him what flight it’s on and when it should blow up. When it doesn’t, he’ll probably think you either didn’t place it, or you screwed up arming it.

Then I’m had! Erakat said.

Not necessarily. The baggage crew will find the bomb and it’ll cause panic. Yes, the plane made it to its destination, the report of a bomb onboard will rip through the media like wildfire.

And what will al-Qatil do to me?

Simply tell him you did everything you were trained for, and somehow the bomb didn’t go off.

He’s not gonna buy it.

Well, I can’t let you blow up a commercial airliner with hundreds of people onboard.

Erakat shook his head in frustration. This could blow my cover.

I’m aware. Lemme give this some thought. Can you call me back in a few days?

I’ll try. The longer I’m undercover in Jamaat ul-Fuqra, the more I think they’re on to me.

Idir, you knew the risks going in.

Yes, I’d like to make it home to my family.

I know, and I’ll do my best.

The line went dead and Erakat put the phone back in his pocket. He looked around and noticed a deer wandering through a tangle of leafless briars. It moved through with relative ease. Erakat wondered if he could stall Omar al-Qatil a while longer.

Eagle knocked on the door of Galen’s lab. She knew he was in there; she heard music playing. She’d waited a day to try to cool off and collect her thoughts. What the colonel was doing could have serious repercussions. She had to stop him.

Come in! he hollered. The music lowered in volume.

She opened the door and entered. Hello.

Galen was sitting at a counter with his back to the door. He glanced over his shoulder, and then stood to face her. Ma’am. Despite what seemed to be a working relationship, he always felt a bit uneasy in her presence.

Colonel, we need to talk.

About what?

A dozen mice, she replied, making her way over to the cage. These mice.

Oh, he said softly.

As part of my job, being head of the research division, I have to review medical purchases. And I found it rather odd you’d be ordering mice when all of your clinical trials are supposed to be on humans.

Ummm.

What are you working on?

Uhhh…

Cabbott said you’ve developed something called a gene bomb.

Galen lowered his head and looked away. Shit, he whispered.

Colonel, if what he told me is true, you’ve gone into dangerous territory.

He’s already lectured me.

Good, saves me having to do it. She rested a hand on the counter. You cannot play God.

Never said I was.

And this research, you can’t do it here.

Why not?

Since this is a government facility, they can take what they see fit.

But—

Ask D.M. about what happened to him.

The armor?

Yes.

I forgot.

Well, I’m reminding you. It’d be in your best interest to suspend research on this gene bomb project.

I’m so close.

Sorry. This technology is too hazardous to see the light of day.

He sighed and rubbed his face. I’m not gonna delete all my data.

I’m not asking you to. It needs to be removed from these premises.

To where?

Somewhere you feel it’ll be secure enough—although I’d caution you not to store the data as a complete unit.

Several files stored in separate locations?

If at all possible.

He walked around trying to gather his thoughts. I have a safety deposit box at a bank in California.

Not very secure.

Then what?

I suggest getting with D.M. and Frank. They have places.

Will I have access to it?

Yes, of course.

And no government prying eyes?

No.

Why am I having a problem accepting this?

Because it’s your baby and you’re afraid to let it go, she said. I have to do the same with my research. If anyone ever got both yours and mine together, it could mean the end of the world.

You make it sound utterly apocalyptic.

If it fell into the wrong hands.

Including our own government?

Especially them!

Jake stood in front of the bathroom mirror looking at all the tattoos dotting his body. He was getting dressed for duty. His eye was drawn to the squadron tatt on his left shoulder. Nearly everyone in the unit had one; it was a badge of solidarity and brotherhood. If caught by enemy forces, it could be a badge of death. He ran his hand over it, feeling smooth skin.

I wonder… he said, studying the artwork in detail.

Once dressed, he headed down the hall to the dining room. The rest of the unit was gathering for breakfast. He noticed Eagle already in her seat, cup of tea in front of her. Good morning, ma’am, he said politely, taking his seat next to D.M. It was Wednesday, and snow was falling hard on the base.

Good morning, Captain, she replied.

Are you working in the lab today?

Which one?

The medical one.

Yes, Jim and I are getting ready to test a new serum.

May I have permission to work in mine?

Forgo training?

Yes, for a bit. He grabbed a coffeepot and poured a cup. I have an idea I wanna explore.

"Fine. Considering your success with Cap’s leg, you can have the day to explore."

Thank you.

After breakfast, Jake hurried to his lab. He opened a cabinet and retrieved a small vial of carbon nano bucky tubes. All right, little guys, we got a new mission. Placing the vial next to the computer, he paused, thinking. I need an aqueous solution to create a suspension. He headed to the door, grabbing his lab coat off the hook and putting it on.

The captain went next-door to Eagle and Jim’s lab. He knocked lightly on the door, opened it, poking his head in. He found Jim working at a counter. Sir? Can I pick your brain for a moment?

Uh, yes, I suppose so, Jim replied.

Jake walked in. I need a fairly thick, clear, and sterile solution.

For what purpose?

To keep nanites in suspension.

Used how?

Uh, what’s the term for under the skin?

Subcutaneous.

Yes, that, thanks.

What are you up to, Captain?

You’ll see, if I can get it to work.

Jim went to a cabinet and took out a clear gallon jug. Here, it’s sterile pharmaceutical-grade glycerin.

Sweet! Thanks! Jake took the jug and hurried back to his lab. Taking a clean culture dish, he poured a few tablespoons of glycerin, then added the contents of the vial. With a small pipette, he stirred the liquid until it was thoroughly mixed. Let’s see if you’ll listen to what I have to say.

Booting up the laptop, he connected a set of thin wires via a USB port and placed the bare tips into the dish. Jake opened a program and started typing. He watched the dish to see if the nanos moved. Nothing. Okay, you’re gonna make me work for this, huh? Fine!

The captain slid his experiment down the counter to a large magnifying microscope. It had cost him a fortune, and it was a necessity when working with nanos. He turned it on and placed the dish on the platform. Let’s see what you’re up to. Jake watched the monitor for signs of movement. Again, there was nothing. Okay, let’s change the frequency and see what you do. He poked the up arrow on the keyboard increasing the electrical impulses. Still nothing. What the fuck?!

With his frustration level growing, he picked up the vial and read the label on the side. I am a fucktard. Yeah, like non-programmed nanos are going to do anything? He went back to the microscope and looked at the dish of black goo. Well, since I made this mess, I might as well take the time, program the nanos, and make it work.

It was later in the afternoon as Cabbott wandered down the hall to Galen’s office. He poked his head in the door and was surprised to see the colonel busily working. Thought you were gonna meet me on the hangar deck at fifteen-thirty?

Something came up, Galen answered in a short tone.

You’re mad at me.

Damn straight I am. He stood. You had no right to tell Eagle about the gene bomb.

She asked me about the mice.

Did you have to spill the whole can of beans?

Cabbott stepped into the office and closed the door. Eagle’s not only my commander, she’s a friend.

So you betray one friend for another?

Hey, the major said, his voice rising slightly. Let’s talk about betrayal…Who gassed me to see if his chemical weapon would work on a human?

Okay, I apologized. I didn’t think it through.

No, you didn’t.

Still, you didn’t have to tell her everything.

Yes, I did. Cabbott leaned against the wall. You don’t understand the relationship Eagle and I have.

Frank told me about it one night.

Then you see why I did it.

I guess.

How are you coming on the truth serum? Cabbott asked.

Getting there. Maybe in a week or so we can test it.

Good. How about using your energy for treating team members?

Galen stood, offering his hand. All right. Under Eagle’s strong advice, I’ll shelve the project and keep my focus on helping everyone get better. They shook hands. I’ve learned so much from you guys I don’t wanna jeopardize it.

Smart thinking, Colonel.

Jake looked at the clock and saw it was nearly nine in the evening. He’d finally gotten the nanos whipped into shape. They were functioning carbon nanites with a mission in life. It was time to test if his hypothesis was correct. Would the nanites listen?

All right, a simple test, Jake said, pouring a few ounces of glycerin into a small beaker. He positioned a set of wires into the substance. Taking an eyedropper, he drew up some of the darker colored nanite solution and gently squeezed it on top of the glycerin, effectively floating it. Then he positioned a video camera close to the beaker, wiring it to his laptop.

Time to make some music, the captain said, tapping away on the keyboard. He watched and waited. Eight minutes would elapse before he saw a hint of movement. Come on, come on, little guys, you can do it, go south, okay? After another minute, the nanites were massed a few millimeters below the surface. Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!

He got up and hurried from the lab. I need some skin…Where am I gonna get some skin? Jake stood in the hallway turning in a circle. While there were several other labs, the captain wasn’t familiar with what was being studied. His only recourse was to ask Jim, who ran the project.

Going to the colonels’ lab, he opened the door and stuck his head in. Jim and Eagle were hunched over a counter intently working on something.

Ma’am? Sir?

What, Jake? Eagle said in an annoyed tone.

Do you have any skin?

She looked up. I’m covered in skin. What the hell do you want?

No, no, do you have any skin you’ve grown in an experiment?

What do you need it for?

To test my experiment.

Jake, we don’t have time for—

She was cut off by Jim holding up his hands. It’s okay, gimme a minute. I think there’s a small sample in the incubator we can spare, he said, getting up.

Thanks!

Jim crossed the lab and opened a cabinet incubator. He went through several shelves until he found one. Here, Captain, this should work. He brought Jake a Petri dish with a sample of tissue. It’s missing the melanin—what gives it the flesh color, but it might work for you.

Oh, yes, this is perfect, thank you. Jake dashed out of the lab.

He skidded in the door of his lab and nearly dropped the dish of tissue. Shit! he said, fumbling and finally gaining control of it. Oh, they’d be so pissed if I interrupted them again.

Returning to the counter, he placed the dish next to his first test. In order for this to be useful, I gotta up the concentration of nanites in the base solution. He picked up a tiny beaker and tapped more nanites into another beaker and mixed thoroughly. The solution became solid black in color due to the extreme concentration of the carbon bucky tubes. Perfect.

Next, Jake went to a cabinet and rummaged through it, finding a one cc syringe with attached fine gauge needle. One tattoo machine coming up. He unwrapped the syringe, and continued exploring until he discovered a pile of tongue depressors in another drawer. Ah, just the ticket.

With supplies in hand, he sat down in front of the Petri dish and carefully removed the lid. Do I wanna know who this came from? He bent closer and examined the near-translucent piece of skin approximately two inches square. It appeared to have all the layers of human skin. Now to see if you can move through a thicker medium.

Dipping the tongue depressor into the nanite solution, he spread a thin layer onto the tissue. Then he took the syringe with needle and quickly pierced the skin, driving the ink into the layers. He worked for close to an hour before taking a piece of gauze and gently wiping away the excess ink. A large black dot remained on the skin. Oh, beautiful!

Looking at the clock, Jake realized it was getting late. We’ll continue this tomorrow, okay, little guys? He went to the door, removed his lab coat, and hung it on a hook. The captain turned off the lights and left the room. As he headed toward the secure door, he saw Eagle leaving her lab. Evening, he said with a polite nod.

Hi. You’ve been busy today, she replied. Accomplish what you wanted?

Not completely. Um, can I have tomorrow, too?

Yeah, fine, nothing’s going on.

Thanks.

I’m curious what you’re working on.

Oh, I’ll show you when I’m done. Still ironing out the bugs.

Mm, right.

Jake opened the door and held it while she went through. It’s pretty cool stuff—if I can get it to work.

Does it have medical applications?

Not exactly. It does deal with part of the body.

Skin?

Yeah, kinda.

Eagle shook her head. Being cryptic like some other mad scientist I know.

Hey, I was taught by the best!

Unfortunately.

Jake chuckled.

They reached the elevator and Eagle pressed the call button. Seems all I have in my life are a bunch of mysterious men.

I know a few women who’d love that.

Do they read trashy romance novels?

He pondered the question. Hm, I don’t really know.

It doesn’t help.

Jake grinned. You read trashy romance novels?

If I had time.

Don’t see you as the type.

Not everything in my life is research or study.

Aw, does the boss woman have a mushy romantic side?

She gave him a quick jab in the ribs. Yes, and don’t you forget it!

Ouch!

Right here, sir, Kippie said, pointing to the eye socket on a skull he held. Put an arrow in the eye and it should pierce into the brain cavity—the bone is pretty thin at the rear of the orbits.

They were on the seventh floor small arms range where the captain was teaching Galen about sniper kill shots. Both were tired from a long day of work.

That’s certainly not gonna make his day, Galen replied.

Kippie chuckled. Nope, and it’s pretty damned ugly, too.

He looked at the skull. Kip, is this a real skull?

Umm, maybe.

Do I wanna know where you got it?

No, sir.

Fine, I’ll say no more.

Probably best. He turned the skull over with the face pointing down. If you’re at an angle below and behind the target, and can get a shot like this— He used his free hand to demonstrate. Put one into the base of the skull. Oh, even better if you can enter the foramen magnum, which is below the medulla, you can turn ’em off like a TV.

The apricot?

Bingo! Give the man a cigar!

Galen picked up his bow. Downrange at the fifty-foot line stood a solid foam mannequin. He removed an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. Eyeball shot?

Sure, if you can. It’s a pretty good distance though.

The colonel drew back the bow. Wanna make a bet?

What’s the stakes?

Case of beer.

Oh, hell yeah, you’re on!

All right. He took aim and fired. The arrow struck the target to the left of the bridge of the nose.

Kippie trotted down and inspected the damage. And I owe you a case of beer. He pulled out the arrow. Brilliant shot. Returning to the firing line, he handed the arrow back to Galen. Can you do it again?

Worth risking another case of beer?

Oh, I dunno.

"Come on, Captain, I know you’re a gambling man."

Kippie uttered a low growl. It’s only money.

You accept?

Yes, yes, now take the damn shot.

The colonel nocked an arrow, aimed, and fired. He looked at the mannequin. Mmm, go see what you think.

Kippie walked downrange and stopped at the target. Fuck me. He yanked out the arrow. Two damn cases of beer!

You wanna shot at redemption?

I’m not schooled with a bow, sir. He strolled back. That’d be like asking you to take a shot with my rifle at fifteen hundred meters.

Okay, I get it. How about this: I spot you half the distance, and all you gotta do is get an arrow in the head.

Anywhere in the head?

Yup.

The stakes?

Galen handed him the bow. I’ll forget one case.

Not both?

Hey, I worked for both of them.

And if I miss?

Then the two cases stand.

Kippie held out his hand, wanting an arrow. I guess I have nothing to lose I haven’t already lost.

Give it your best.

The captain nocked the arrow, drew back, and took aim. Everything felt so strange. He did his best to sight down the arrow to the target. This was a far cry from his finely tuned rifle and scope. He let his fingers slip, releasing the arrow. It flew downrange and Kippie was sure it was going to hit the head. The arrow glanced off the mannequin’s forehead, ricocheted into the air, and lodged into a ceiling tile ten feet behind.

Galen looked downrange and then at Kippie before he burst into laughter.

Not funny!

The colonel was laughing so hard he wrapped his arms around his ribs to keep them from hurting. His bellicose mirth echoed through the floor. It was several minutes before he finally regained some semblance of composure. Oh, damn, that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while!

It wasn’t supposed to be. I assume I should be glad to have provided you some entertainment.

Galen walked back to the work area and retrieved a chair, taking it down the firing lane to where the arrow was stuck. He hopped up, balanced on the chair, and plucked the arrow from the tile. Then he jumped down, and brought the chair back to the firing line. You owe me one case.

I didn’t stick the shot.

Yeah, I know, but it was so damned funny I’m willing to let it go.

I still fail to find the humor in the situation.

Galen smacked him on the shoulder. Lighten up, Kip. You’ll get better with practice.

With all due respect, I’d be happy to leave the bow and arrow stuff to you.

You’ll have to take it up with D.M., he’s the one who thinks everyone on the team should learn some archery.

Well, then, maybe he wants me to teach everyone how to use the taiaha.

What’s that?

Maori fighting staff.

The colonel collected his things. I suppose in this line of work, learning to use anything as a weapon comes in handy.

Certainly can. Kippie went down and retrieved the mannequin. When do you want the beer?

No hurries. I restocked last weekend.

Kippie placed the target against a wall. Tell me, sir, have you ever killed anyone?

Galen was silent for a few moments. I’ve never taken a human life. Although something in my conscience, or lack thereof, leads me to believe I wouldn’t have a hard time doing it.

You think that’s the case?

Can’t really say, I’ve never been in active combat…The thought of someone—especially the enemy, dying by my hand, doesn’t upset me one bit.

With what you’ve demonstrated in training, it’s probably true.

Of course unless I’m thrown into a situation, I’ll never know.

Jake yawned and looked at the clock. He’d been working all day and needed a break. It was late afternoon on Thursday and he wanted to have something working by the weekend. Bringing up the training schedule on his laptop, he saw the team was doing hand to hand on the training floor. His experiment was going well, and he’d demonstrate it to Eagle later.

Turning off the computer, he wiggled out of the lab coat and hung it on the hook as he left his lab. Jake went to the training floor and found everyone busy practicing. He quickly removed his blouse and found a willing partner—Galen.

D.M. stood and watched the training session. Everyone was busy. The elevator doors opened and Eagle walked out. She stopped next to him. How goes it?

Good, he replied.

I need some practice time.

Don’t think you wanna, they’re pretty rowdy today.

If I can’t handle my own team, what good am I?

D.M. knew it was a losing battle. It was days like this he wished he outranked her.

Well? she said, giving him a firm punch in the right shoulder.

Ow! He regarded her with a dirty look. All right, fine. Sticking his fingers in his mouth, he uttered a shrill whistle. Form up!

Everyone stopped and approached. Listen, we’re gonna do five-minute fights. Standard rules apply. At the end of match, you’ll move to the next opponent. He stepped forward. A-Team on my right.

The men fell into lines. He took Eagle by the elbow and moved her to his left. B-Team, across from us.

Cabbott took his place opposite D.M. Galen stood at the end of the line, feeling like the odd man out. Despite his rank, he was considered the rookie when it came to training. He understood and didn’t mind.

D.M. looked at Cabbott and pointed, indicating the major needed to move down one position. Cabbott saw Eagle and groaned. He hated sparring against her, not because she was a woman, but also she tended not to fight fair.

Everyone hit the mats, D.M. called.

Literally, Max said as he shoved in his mouth guard. This is gonna suck. He had to face D.M.

Well, if you don’t like the taste of polyvinyl, I suggest you fight harder.

Asshole.

D.M. chuckled.

Eagle went to the cabinet and got her mouth guard. She was already formulating a plan of attack against the major. The frustration of having to watch other operators deploy on missions had her boiling. And she knew her team felt the same. They wanted to fight. Stripping off her blouse, she tossed it on a bench and joined Cabbott on one of the mats.

For the record, he said, I really hate fighting you.

What? ’Cause I’m a girl?

No, you don’t fight fair.

All right, fine, I will.

He shook his head. Don’t think you know how.

She shoved in her mouth guard. Do too!

Five minutes! D.M. hollered. Starts now!

Before Cabbott could blink, Eagle attacked. She threw numerous punches to his abdomen and then went for his face, which the major easily blocked. It was a common rule when sparring to slap the opponent in the face rather than throw a potentially injurious punch. Still, on occasion, someone would either forget or get overzealous and land a punch. Apologies were quickly issued.

After a few more punches to the body, Cabbott was getting annoyed. Eagle was using everything she had, and admittedly, the blows hurt. He blocked a few of her strikes and decided to test the waters, hitting her square in the chest above her breasts. The colonel took a step back. Her eyes narrowed, she growled, and then launched at him. She was letting out her beast.

D.M. kept watch on Eagle and Cabbott’s match in between sending Max to the mat. It looked vicious. Their hands and feet were a blur of blocks and blows. Obviously Eagle had some aggression to deal with. He glanced at his watch and saw time was nearly up.

Max mounted one more attack and managed to smack D.M. right across the face. Ha! he cheered. Got ya!

The colonel was not amused. He closed the distance, got his left leg behind Max’s right, and with one solid hit to the chest, sent the captain backward to the mat. Yeah? The beeping of his watch kept him from putting a knee in Max’s chest. Time!

Cabbott feinted a move and found an opening. With his fingers, he landed a fairly firm slap to Eagle’s right cheek. He was trying to be polite yet still maintain his advantage. All it did was make the colonel madder. She lurched forward attempting to land her own shot to his face. As she swung her arm, Cabbott jerked his head out of the way, and what should have been a slap to the face, instead became four fingernail slashes across his left cheek.

Time! D.M. hollered, seeing the two of them still going at it.

The major felt the sting and a bit of blood trickle down his cheek. That was it. Woman or not, commander or not, it was time to finish this. Eagle didn’t even apologize for the damage. Deep within his chest a guttural growl formed. With utmost care, he needed to let the beast out a little. His opponent might have been considerably smaller, but she was equally trained and fighting hard. She was going down and there was no polite way of doing it.

He stepped in, blocked her right arm, grabbing it. Then he turned his back to her and flung her over his shoulder. Eagle landed hard on the mat, the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a few moments and realized the training floor was eerily silent. Looking back, she saw everyone watching.

Cabbott stood over her, his hand extended. Sorry, this fight needed to end.

She reached to take his hand. As she did, she pulled him down, got a foot in his chest and flung him over the top of her. He crashed to the mat.

I suppose you think it was sporting? he said, still holding on to her hand.

No, and sorry about the damage.

Eh, I’ll live. He got up and helped Eagle to her feet.

D.M. approached. A word, please. He put his hand on Eagle’s shoulder and guided her away from the others. What the hell? What were you doing?

I told you, I wanted some practice.

That wasn’t practice. You seem to have another agenda.

Am I not allowed to be frustrated like the rest of you? She walked around him. Don’t you think it makes me upset every day we don’t have a mission? I know everyone wants to work, I do, too; it feels like we’ve been blacklisted in the community.

Doesn’t mean you need to take it out on us.

Yes, you’re right. What am I to do? Sit in my office and have a meltdown?

He shook his head. I dunno.

Eagle stopped circling and stood in front of him. I need an outlet, too.

Do you feel better?

Yes, for the most part.

Well, good. You got six more guys to fight.

Yeah?

I’m running the training.

Fine. Eagle stepped up and poked him firmly in the chest. Six more, and I’ll deal with you later. She stomped off.

Promise? D.M. said in a deep, husky voice as he looked over his shoulder. He watched her get a drink of water.

Cabbott approached. Boy, is she in a mood.

Yup. You okay?

Yeah. At least she played mostly fair. He wiped the blood off his cheek. What’s got her panties in a bunch?

Same thing which has our jocks in a twist—no work.

Maybe she needs to come down more often and work off her aggression.

D.M. shrugged his shoulders. Entirely up to her.

"Perhaps you can suggest it to her?"

I’ll attempt to make mention.

Eagle stepped onto the mat to face Galen. She was exhausted. As she sized up her opponent, he looked equally tired. Having fought six other men took a lot out of her. Well, here we are, she said.

Um, yup. Galen was not looking forward to this.

Last dance of the day! D.M. called. Let’s tango!

An impish grin appeared on Galen’s face. He held out his hand. Shall we?

Eagle laughed and took his hand. They closed the distance and began to dance. Galen hummed a lively tune as they twirled around the mat. Your husband won’t take offense to this, will he?

He said to tango, although I think we’re waltzing.

Umm, I don’t know how to tango.

I do, but I prefer him to lead.

He dances?

She smiled. Fabulously.

They danced for a couple minutes then Galen stopped as he saw D.M. standing on the edge of the mat with arms folded. I don’t think he’s amused.

What the hell is this? D.M. said.

Eagle turned her head. You said to dance, so we are.

Very funny.

Galen laughed. I thought so!

You were supposed to be sparring.

D.M., we’re wiped out. Neither of us have any fight left. So we’re making the best of it, Eagle said.

D.M. stepped toward them. Then may I cut in?

Eagle looked at Galen. No, you may not. Galen and I will finish this dance.

Fine, suit yourself. He walked off. You got one minute.

Hot water rained down his back as D.M. held Eagle by the hips making passionate love to her in the shower. His left hand and arm, while never completely restored to full use, was at least able to help keep him steady. She was bent over in front of him, her wet back glistening with droplets. His actions had not been in vain as Eagle was moaning in delight. When he could stand it no longer, he threw back his head, let out his customary howl, and climaxed with a shudder. Then he leaned forward, tangled his fingers in her hair, grasped her head and turned it so he could kiss her hard. When his lips finally parted, he stood up and withdrew, then gave her a playful smack on the behind. God, I love angry shower sex, he said, backing under the water and letting it cascade over him.

Eagle was slow to straighten up. When she did, she turned and regarded him. There was no way on earth she could stay angry at the man she loved. Seeing him standing naked a foot or so away made her knees feel weak. She’d love him ’til the day they died. I’m not angry anymore.

Damn, he said with a broad smile. You’re pretty fun when you’re feisty.

I want the same thing you do—some work.

Well, my love, what we want and what the brass wants seem to be two entirely different things. He grabbed a bar of soap and began to wash her. I’m sure there’re dozens of missions they can send us on, but for some reason, we seem to have pissed ’em off.

I wish I knew what it was…It couldn’t have been your joyride with Galen and the Chinese bomber.

No, we’ve been mostly devoid of work since long before.

And what we’ve done has been trivial. We need to do something which’ll make a difference.

Agreed. He gestured for her to turn around so he could wash her back. Can I ask something of you?

What?

Why don’t you train with us more often? I mean, then you won’t be sitting on weeks of pent-up aggression.

Mmm, you’re probably right. And the training will do me good.

And I won’t have so many men getting beat on mercilessly.

Mercilessly? Hardly. They’re big boys and can take care of themselves.

Every single one of ’em hates fighting you.

Why? Because I’m the boss woman?

Yup.

They need to get over it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

D.M. walked into the dining room for breakfast and saw Jake standing by the window. None of the other teammates were there yet.

The captain turned from watching the snow falling and approached his friend. So, how was the angry shower sex? he said softly.

The colonel’s mouth fell open and his face went red. Shit, you heard?

Uh, huh.

And I thought the walls were thicker. Obviously not.

Jake chuckled. Ah, you know me, it’s all good.

I appreciate your discretion.

She in a better mood this morning?

Yeah.

Good, ’cause I wanna show her what I’ve been working on.

"What have you been working on?"

Some cool shit. He went and stood near his chair. I’ll give you a holler when I’m ready.

Eagle walked in followed by the rest of the unit. She took her seat. Good morning, gentlemen, she said, pouring a cup of tea.

They settled into their chairs.

I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday, she said, stirring sugar into the tea. Like you, I’ve been damned frustrated over not having any work. I suppose I reached a boiling point. The admiral’s done nothing but give me the cold shoulder on everything. You have no idea how hard it was to get permission to help Jake’s friend. Still, I’m glad we were able to help, and I hope those dirty cops never do it again.

Jake nodded. Thank you.

It was also brought to my attention that stewing about it in my office is a bad idea. I’m part of this team and should be down there training with the rest of you.

There were several muted groans. D.M. shot an angry glare around the table quickly silencing them.

Yes, I have a reputation of not playing nice, and I’m gonna change it. As commander of this unit, I should be setting the example.

Cabbott held up a finger. Uh, can you do us a favor?

What?

Trim your nails!

Yeah, I’ll sort it out. Sorry again.

He ran his hand over his cheek. I’ll survive. Although Cara will probably give me curious looks.

Uh, I can explain if necessary.

Naw, it’s fine.

Jake watched the nano ink slowly descending into the lowest layer of tissue. The ink became pale as it was covered by skin cells. Hmm, he said, viewing the laptop screen which was relaying the video from the microscope. If the skin had pigment, would it be invisible? He looked at the small beaker of ink. Only one way to tell.

The captain got another syringe with needle and opened it. Time to be a guinea pig. He pulled up his uniform sleeve and wiped a small area on his left forearm with alcohol. Taking the tongue depressor, he spread a thin layer of ink on his skin. Then he got the syringe and began piercing his arm, driving in the ink. He decided to be silly and made a rather juvenile looking flower. If this works, I won’t be seeing it.

Thirty minutes later, Jake wiped the final ink from his arm. There was a dark outline of a small flower ringed in red from the irritation of the needle. Jake wasn’t bothered by it, he’d had so many tattoos the pain no longer affected him. He got a piece of gauze and tape, using it to cover the new ink. The captain pulled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff.

Leaving the lab, he went in search of electrode pads like the ones he used for Cabbott’s treatment. He knew they were in the main medical supply room, but he didn’t have access. The captain went to the front desk and stopped. A male technician was seated behind it.

Hey, Jake said, can someone let me into the supply room?

Uh, what do you need?

Electrode pads.

The tech stood. Oh, I can get you some. He grabbed a set of keys and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later he returned. Is this the kind you wanted?

Jake took a packet and looked at it. Yup, thanks. He returned to the lab and went about connecting a pad to the wires leading to the laptop. Pulling up his sleeve, he yanked off the makeshift bandage and peeled the backing off the pad and stuck it over the area. Okay, show time. The captain typed away and then sat back and waited. His previous tests on the skin sample showed the ink moved down in roughly eight minutes. He set the timer on his cell phone and closed his eyes.

Eight minutes later, the timer chimed. Jake peeled back the pad and was amazed to see nothing but red marks. The black nano ink had completely disappeared. Yes! He stuck the pad down, typed in the reverse frequency, and reset the timer. When another eight minutes was up, he peered under the pad. The black tattoo was back. Holy shit! I did it!

Wasting no time, he texted Eagle and D.M. Jake was excited about his new invention. He got everything set up to do a demonstration.

Eagle was the first one through the door followed by Jim. Okay, Jake, what have you been up to? she asked.

Mm, can we wait for D.M.?

Yes, fine. She looked at his experiment. Is this the skin sample you got from us?

Yup.

Why does it look strange?

You’ll see.

Jim picked up the beaker of nano ink and tipped it to one side observing the thick liquid. And this is the glycerin?

With an addition. He got the plastic jug and handed it to him. Here, you can have it back.

Mm, thanks.

D.M. came in carrying his blouse. He was wiping sweat from his face and neck. All right, I’m here. Wow me.

Jake peeled the pad from his arm showing the tattoo. Yeah, it’s stupid, and I’m not much of an artist anymore.

I’ll argue that, D.M. said. You drew the eagle for me.

And I was kinda in a hurry…Okay, everyone see the black ink?

They nodded.

Jake put the pad on. It does take time—

How much time? We’re busy next-door, Eagle asked.

Eight minutes of your time.

Get to it.

Yes, ma’am. Jake typed commands on the keyboard and set the timer on his phone.

Jim looked at the skin sample. Does this have any medical applications?

No, sir, none I can think of. But, it’ll allow tattoos to disappear. He pointed to another tattoo on his arm. I’m not particularly proud of this one. Been thinking of having a lot of them removed. Wouldn’t it be great to have a tattoo you can make disappear if you don’t want it anymore? Or if it's something you don’t want someone to see—like our squadron insignia?

So if we go on an op, we won’t give away who we are? D.M. asked.

Exactly.

Little late for most of us.

You can have ’em removed by laser. Takes a few times, but that’s the best way.

I’m not removing mine. D.M. tapped on his left shoulder. Kinda my wedding ring of sorts.

Your case is special. I’d never ask you. Jake checked the timer. For those who might wanna do something else with their lives, it’s an option.

Mm, true.

What about allergies? Jim asked.

The mix is glycerin and carbon nanos. Not much to be allergic to.

D.M. looked at the computer screen. Could the nanos be programmed to create different colors like our armor?

Jake’s eyes widened. I’m sure I could figure a way! The timer beeped. Well, here’s to nothing. He peeled off the pad revealing red marks and no tattoo. Ta-da!

Eagle took his arm and inspected it. The nanos migrated into the hypodermis?

Yup.

Fascinating. She looked closer. I can still see a faint outline of them.

I haven’t gotten it perfected, this was the first trial run on a human. I wonder if I can teach the nanos to match the skin pigment of the owner?

If you did, you wouldn’t need them to migrate deep into the skin.

He smiled. True…I’ll keep working on it in my spare time.

"Spare time," she said.

Yes, ma’am. I plan to stay here this weekend.

Despite it not having medical applications, I’m impressed. Eagle went to the door. Carry on, Captain.

D.M. got up from the dinner table. It was Monday evening and he’d been covertly watching Galen the entire meal. It wasn’t particularly difficult since he sat at the other end of the table facing Eagle. Throughout Galen’s training, D.M. kept a close eye on him. He wanted to make sure everything was progressing as it should. His observations of today’s training revealed something that needed to be addressed.

Cap? Kip? Can you come here? D.M. said stepping toward the glass wall.

They approached. Yeah?

He stood between them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. I need you to do something for me.

What? Cabbot asked.

I think it’s time for Galen to meet the beast.

Kippie nodded. You want us to teach him?

Yes. First you need to explain everything so he understands what he’s getting into.

Right. Over beers?

However you feel it best.

Beer, Cap? I think beer’ll go down nicely right now.

Yeah, okay, Cabbott replied.

All right, boys, run along and get to work. D.M. left them.

Kippie hurried over and caught Galen as he was leaving. Galen, wanna get a beer?

Huh?

Come on, let’s get a beer, he said cheerfully.

But it’s—

It’s cool, it’s cool.

I thought we weren’t supposed to be drinking on duty nights?

Cabbott caught up to them. It’s fine.

Umm, all right. The colonel regarded them with a confused look.

They steered him to the rec room and Kippie got three beers.

Grab a seat, Cabbott said, motioning to a lounge chair.

Galen sat. Something’s up. What?

Kippie handed Galen and Cabbott beers. The boss man wanted us to have a talk with you.

I haven’t screwed up, have I?

No, no, Cabbott replied. He thinks it’s time to take your training to a higher level.

Oh?