Diane Duane - X-COM - UFO Defense

Ari frowned. “There weren’t many cattle mutilations in Morocco. Then again, there weren’t that many cattle in Morocco.”

“There are enough.” Jonelle leaned back. “But those cows never struck me as anything special. These cows…I don’t know. In any case, the locals are very attached to them, and it wouldn’t hurt our PR effort here if we, as a ‘UN organization,’ can get someone, in some unspecified way, to do something to help protect their cows while also taking care of other business. You get my drift, Colonel?”

Ari looked at her. “If you mean you’re going to be sending me back to Morocco tonight or tomorrow,” he said, “that drift I get.”

Now how did he…. Jonelle sat up straighten

“You’re not going to need me here much longer,” Ari said. “I’ve talked to the construction crews all I need to— their liaison with the army is in place now. The army people, all but the highest, think our people are going to be building some kind of new installation for the Swiss— so that’s settled. The basic installation schedule is just about set up. Temporary living quarters will be ready within a couple-few days, the rest within a week or so. After that we start bringing in the basic heavy stuff— that’ll take another week. All those production and delivery schedules are tight, and confirmed by the supply depots in the US and China. We’re lucky, this place is a natural hangar. The number-one level hangar space is almost all ready but for the doors—they’re working on that. Two, three more days—four, max. After that comes conversion of the second level for hangar space, which is in a similar state, but will take more time. The concealed entrance is going to have to be widened, while under cover, to take our bigger craft. Two weeks worth at least.”

“What about the conversion of the containment spaces?”

Ari looked self-satisfied. “My cubbyholes will be ready by the end of the week. They’re no use to you, though, without the environmental controls and the proper security in place, and the base won’t be ready for them until the third week or so. Sorry, Boss.”

Jonelle breathed out and leaned back again, looking at him steadily. Outside, on the street, dusk was beginning to fall, along with the first few flakes of a snow that had been threatening all day. “We have a problem,” she said.

“Local? Or back in Morocco?”

“Morocco,” she said. “Business is starting to pick up again down that way.”

“How many interceptions last night?”

“Six,” she said.

“How did they do?”

Jonelle shook her head. “Not at all as well as they should have.” This was an understatement, but she was determined not to contaminate Ari’s assessment of the situation with her opinions, forceful though they might be. DeLonghi, she thought, is looking like the worst idea I’ve had in a month of Sundays…but it might he that he’s shaken by the sudden promotion and needs a little help to steady down. I intend to see that he gets it. “Commander DeLonghi’s team assignments seem to have been most at fault. I want you to get down there tonight and take up a consultative role.”

“And I’ll be flying missions, too, of course.”

Jonelle paused. This was where she should have said, easily Of course. But she couldn’t get out of her mind Ari’s last mission. That one had been very close. His impulsiveness…. Yet the last thing a responsible commander in her position should do was try to shield one of her people from the correct exercise of their duties, for strictly personal reasons.

“Of course,” she said. “One thing: I require you not to expose yourself to what I would consider unnecessary danger while you’re in consultative mode. When you’re supervising a number of teams, which you may be for the next little while, you stay out of the front line.”

She watched Ari contemplating the wording of her order to see if there was some way he could squirm out of it. But Jonelle had been thinking about this for some hours. “I would do this myself if I had the leisure,” she said, “but I don’t. Though I can turn this office over to our PR people full-time tomorrow, there are other matters connected with getting this base running besides strictly construction-oriented ones, and I’ve got to deal with them.” That mind shield, she thought, still wondering where the heck she was going to find the necessary cash for it. A shield was so necessary, up here where there were so many more people living nearby than there were in Morocco.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ari said.

“Is that a wilco?” said Jonelle.

Ari looked at her for a moment, then said, “Wilco.”

“Thank you,” Jonelle said—something she did not have to say, and Ari knew it. “I’d be glad if you were on your way down there as quickly as possible. I can’t get out of my head the idea that the aliens may have some intelligence about what we’re doing…and I would very much dislike seeing our work here interrupted because of ineptly constructed and dispatched interceptions. I want my best pilot on site to advise the new commander at Irhil.”

He looked at her with a flattery-will-get-you-nowhere sort of expression, but an affectionate and respectful one. “I’ll be back there in a couple of hours,” Ari said. “There’s a transport leaving the mountain in fifty minutes—I’ll be on it.”

“Very well. Is there anything else construction-oriented I need to know about?”

“No, Commander.”

“All right. Let me give you the details about last night’s interceptions. You’ll want to look at the transcripts yourself when you get back, but I think you’ll find some patterns.”

They spent half an hour going over the fine points of whose team had been misassigned, who needed to be spoken to about weapons allocations and armor, who was carrying weapons too light or too heavy for their best use. Outside, the snow began falling more thickly, blowing golden-colored in the light of the streetlight by the door.

When they were finished, Ari saluted Jonelle and said, “Good night, Commander.”

Jonelle saw a great deal in his eyes that he was not going to express, even here when they were alone. Concern for her—and a great eager desire to get back to the things he loved best: flying his Firestorm and leading ground assaults. “Good night, Colonel,” she said, returning the salute, “and good hunting. I’ll expect a report first thing in the morning on improvement of the teams’ results.”

“You’ll have it.” And out he went into the snow, stopping once to look up and down the street—not for traffic, Jonelle saw, but to tell whether he was likely to step in anything bovine and unexpected.

She smiled and turned back to the desk with a resigned look, thinking about that mind shield again, and eyeing the piled-up filing.

Many miles north, in Zürich, dusk was also falling, though not snow. It was rush hour, and the rain had been coming down gently for about an hour now, drifting from one of those low-ceilinged overcasts in which the city seems to specialize in the fall. From the stone front steps of the Hauptbahnhof—the main train station—the view up the long, wide Bahnhofstrasse—the main street downtown, known for its shopping—was much shortened by the misting rain. A few blocks up, the street disappeared in swathes of silver-gray only the stores’ illuminated signs and windows blooming through the wet, drifting fog. Mist was tangled in the upper branches of even the youngest of the lime trees lining the street. The logos of the big banks facing into Paradeplatz three blocks down were mere ghosts of themselves, phantom aspirin-tablets or crossed keys glowing through the gray. Far below them, the blue and white Zurich city trams glided and hummed along the Bahnhofstrasse tracks, single headlights glowing brighter through the gloom and double taillights vanishing as they went. On either side, bundled-up people hurried along the gray and white sidewalks, heading for the tram stops or the escalators at the corner of the Strasse and Bahnhofplatz, which led down and over into the train station.