Jerome Preisler - Net Force--Attack Protocol

The latecomers reached Lavonne and the others at the fence. Sergeant Pierce and Privates Ryder and Berra were all on Colonel Howard’s staff and had just completed their shift.

“Evening,” she said to Pierce. “How’s it going in Command?”

“The colonel’s been stuffing his pipe with tobacco all night,” he said. “And stalking the halls.”

“Must be pure joy working under him.”

“Totally.”

She looked at Pierce through the snow. “Any news on the team?”

“It’s still early,” he said, then hesitated. “Can’t say much more, y’know.”

He sounded half-apologetic. Everyone on the post had a top-secret security clearance, but the details of tonight’s mission were under sensitive compartmented information—i.e., need-to-know—restrictions.

Like it or not, Lavonne understood.

“Check,” she said. “You guys should get loose. The rest of us are way ahead of you.”

He nodded past her, tilting his head slightly toward the right. “Spree doing glute stretches, too?”

Lavonne glanced over her shoulder at the ’hog gliding toward them along the fence, its rubber tracks imprinting the newly fallen snow cover.

“Nah,” she said. “That robot gunslinger’s got a butt of steel.”

Pierce smiled, and Lavonne smiled back. There were four lethal autonomous weapons systems, or LAWS, sentries guarding the compound’s perimeter—Spree patrolling its south line, Nash the north, Earl the east, and Walt its western boundary. Colonel Howard had been the first to call them hedgehogs, though in her mind their squat, hardened chassis, sensor pods, and weapons arrays said R2-D2 on steroids.

“Okay, Sergeant. Unlike Spree, I need to finish warming up,” she said.

“And my boys need to get started,” Pierce said. “Give us three minutes?”

“Take five.”

“You’re the best, Doc.”

He and the two privates walked off toward the fence, where the rest of the group were warming up. After five minutes, they buddied up into two lines and jogged off along the compound’s perimeter.

A minute later Spree followed.

Robotics and Autonomous Systems Specialist (24 Delta) Mario Perez saw lights on in the mess hall as he drove by in the flurrying snow. He went on for another dozen yards, then stopped his JLTV Jolt in front of the glorified trailer that passed as the base exchange store. Getting out, he trotted up to the door, found it locked, and leaned his head against its glass to peer inside. The overhead fluorescents were off, but he could see a dim glow behind the counter, where Laura was counting the day’s receipts.

He rapped on the glass. She glanced up from the register, saw him outside, and came around the sales counter to let him in.

“Mario,” she said, opening the door. “ Dónde has estado? I was wondering when you would show up.”

His face was puzzled. “I thought you said to come at midnight—”

“Midnight was fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t your shift end at eleven thirty?”

He looked at her contritely.

“I suck,” he said. “I apologize.”

She frowned, waving him in.

“Okay, hurry up,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

Mario entered as she switched the lights on.

“I really am sorry, Laura,” he said. “With the time difference, it’s four in the afternoon yesterday back home. I did a FaceTime call and must’ve lost track of things.”

“Oh?” She tried to sound casual. “Must be somebody special.”

“My mom,” he said. “Dad died a couple of years ago. So I never forget to call for Thanksgiving. Actually the Wednesday before. It’s kind of a tradition for us. So we can talk a while before she gets busy cooking.”

Laura looked at him. Besides being relieved, she felt her heart melt a little. Mario, who had told her he was from El Paso, Texas, was the nicest guy she’d ever met, possibly even the guy of her dreams. She liked his sense of humor, his warmth, his sincere brown eyes...and his buff, muscular arms.

She sometimes imagined those strong arms around her waist, drawing her close against him.

“When they found out you were open late tonight, everyone at the barracks kept adding stuff to our order,” he said and took out his phone. “You wouldn’t know half the base is on deployment from looking at it.”

She leaned closer to read the shopping list.

“True that,” she said.

He felt his heart skip a beat. Five feet five inches tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, Laura Cruz, whose father was Venezuelan and whose mother was American, had been raised between Caracas and Dayton, Ohio. She was in his humble opinion the prettiest, sexiest, most amazing girl ever to walk planet Earth.

“So,” he said, “think you have everything?”

“I stocked up on chips, pretzels, soda, and beer—especially beer—for the long weekend,” she said and looked up from the phone. “I hope the team gets back in time to celebrate.”

“Same,” he said. “It’s a top-secret op, so I’m out of the loop. But I think they’re still up-country.”

Laura nodded slowly, pulled a shopping cart from the small row near the door. “Come,” she said. “It will be faster if I help.”

“Hey, thanks. Anything you get for yourself is my treat.”

She smiled. “You’re a doll. But I’ve got a new chest freezer, and it’s loaded up with food. I just want to get back to quarters, shower, and put on my pj’s.”

He started up the aisle with her, imagining she would smell like a garden full of sweet-scented flowers after a shower, and look very clean and pretty in her pajamas.

A few minutes later, they wheeled the fully loaded cart up to the checkout counter, both pushing it by the handle.

“I’ll pack,” he said. “I’m an expert packer.”

Laura smiled. “I will enjoy letting you prove it,” she said, going around to the register.

Mario neatly transferred his items to the counter as she rang them up, thinking she was beyond the tiniest doubt his dream girl. He had known it from the day she started working at the exchange a month or so back, which was also when he noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring on any critical finger. But though they hit it off at once and things got sort of flirty between them, he’d still hesitated to ask her out.

Maybe it was fear of a turndown. But he wasn’t afraid of a turndown right now. He didn’t know the reason for that, either. He just wasn’t.

“Laura, well...there’s this concert in Bucharest next Saturday night,” he said, carefully bagging some chips, pretzels, and marshmallows. “It’s at the college. A battle of the bands—”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, you’ll come with me ?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

Mario stood there smiling at her, his eyes shining like stars. He thought she was as beautiful as the autumn moon.

“Why the big smile?” she asked.

“Because,” he said.

“Because why ?”

“Because I can tell you really want to kiss me,” he replied to his own astonishment.

A second passed. Another. She looked directly over the counter at him. Mario opened his eyes wide, feeling a sudden dread. What could have possessed him to say what he’d said? To let those words escape his lips...putting aside that he actually meant them?

He was thinking he’d just made a terrible mistake, utterly blown things with her, when she at last broke her silence.

“A woman wanting a man to kiss her isn’t enough,” she said. “She must invite him.”

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “How will he know the invitation?”

She smiled.

“If he’s the right man for her, he’ll know,” she said and went into the office to get her coat.