Dale Brown - Dale Brown's Dreamland 04 - Piranha(and Jim DeFelice)(2003) (34 page)

 
          
The
sailor handing the chow line in the mess tent saw Danny Freah approach. “More
eggs, Captain? Be your third helping.”

 
          
“Problem
with that?” said Danny lightly.

 
          
“No,
sir,” said the Navy seaman, lifting the metal cover on the serving tray. “No,
sir. Good to see someone with a healthy appetite.”

 
          
“It’s
good cooking, sailor,” said Danny, though truth was the eggs were rubbery at
best. Most likely they were powdered or flash-frozen or whatever the hell they
did to eggs these days. Still, he took another full helping, then went back to
his table.

 
          
He
was putting off talking to Colonel Bastian. He’d already put it off since last
night, when he could have caught the colonel before he turned in. This morning
he could have grabbed him before his briefing session. Danny could have—should
have—interrupted him.

 
          
Powder
was right about the girl. That was no reason, none at all, not to do his job.
She wasn’t the same woman, and he wasn’t in the same situation.

 
          
But
she didn’t present a threat, nor did her village. He knew that in his bones.

 
          
They
couldn’t keep her in the med tent; he had to deal with her before Peterson went
over his head, which he might already have done.

 
          
Or
Stoner. The spook thought he was God, just about. Spy with attitude. He would
get involved soon too.

 
          
Danny
was trained to be cautious, to think about what he was doing before he acted.
He was also trained to act, not to sit on something for a day—days, really, if
you argued he should have moved the village right away.

 
          
He
sure as hell wasn’t trained—wasn’t paid—to get caught up in emotions and buried
memories. Maybe
Jemma
was right; maybe it was time
for him to quit.

 
          
And
do what? Run for office? What good would he do?

 
          
Right
wrongs, like
Jem
always said.

 
          
That
was what he was doing now.

 
          
“Hey,
Cap, you probably want to get over to the med tent,” said Bison, leaning down
next to him. “Stoner’s hassling the prisoner.”

 
          
“Shit,”
muttered Danny, getting up quickly.

 
          
He
found Stoner sitting across from the woman in a chair. She was talking in
English, her face red. Danny started to say something to the CIA officer, but
Stoner stopped him by putting up his hand.

 
          
“They
burned the house first,” continued the woman. “The houses were huts, not even
as sturdy as this. Two people we have never seen again. These are the people
you call saviors.”

 
          
“I
didn’t call them saviors,” said Stoner. His voice was flat, as unemotional as a
surgeon asking for a fresh scalpel.

 
          
“We
want only to live in peace. Is that too much to ask?”

 
          
“You’re
not in a good place,” said Danny, taking another step toward her. Her
cheekbones were puffed out and her hair brushed straight back; her anger made
her seem more like a woman.

 
          
“Where
would you have us live?” she demanded.

 
          
“I
don’t know.”

 
          
“If
you turn us over to the government, they will massacre us.” She looked at Danny
defiantly for a moment, then turned back to Stoner and began to cry.

 
          
“Mr.
Stoner, a word,” said Danny. He turned and went out of the tent. When the CIA
officer appeared, he walked a few feet away.

 
          
“She
telling the truth?” Danny asked him.

 
          
“I
told you there’d be a sob story.”

 
          
“Sob
story—two people being killed is hardly a sob story.”

 
          
“What
would you call it?” Stoner asked.

 
          
“A
fucking massacre—an atrocity.”

 
          
Stoner
shrugged.

 
          
“We’re
not turning her over to the government, or the army,” said Danny.

 
          
Stoner
said nothing.

 
          
“We’re
not,” said Danny. “We’ll move them ourselves. Fuck those bastards—we’ll move
them ourselves. Well? Say something.

 
          
“What
do you want me to say?”

 
          
“Say
you agree.”

 
          
Stoner
shrugged.

 
          
Danny
felt his anger rising so high he almost couldn’t control it. “What the fuck,
man? What the hell—aren’t you human?”

 
          
“We
can move them. But sooner or later, the Army will find them again. We won’t
have control over what happened then.”

 
          
“You
know.”

 
          
Danny
clamped his hand into a fist, stifling his anger. Would it do any good to tell
Stoner what had happened in Bosnia? Probably not.

 
          
It
didn’t matter. He’d move them himself.

 
          
“You
going against me on this?” Danny asked.

 
          
Stoner
shrugged. “I’m not for or against it. It’s not really my business. There’s a
communication network. I have NSA intercepts that are reporting on ship
activity and transmitting.”

 
          
“From
here?”

 
          
“They
haven’t been able to pin down the location, which is pretty interesting. I
guess. There are two kinds of transmission—radio, and something that goes
underwater. Not all of
it’s
decoded.”

 
          
“And
she’s involved in that?”

 
          
“I
doubt it, but we won’t know till we look in her village.”

 
          
Danny
frowned, as if Stoner were saying he should have done this before.

 
          
Which,
in a way, he was.

 
          
“The
gear’s pretty sophisticated,” said the CIA officer. “They wouldn’t be able to
hide it.”

 
          
“Those
atolls,” said Danny. “If there’s some sort of network, they’d have to be
involved.”

 
          
“Probably.”

 
          
“All
right,” Danny nodded. “We’ll go to her village ASAP. But here’s the deal—if
what she’s saying checks out, we move her ourselves.”

 
          
Stoner
shrugged. Danny took that to mean it was okay with him.

 
          
Dog
figured he could sneak fifteen minutes away with Jennifer while the rest of the
Iowa’s crew got the plane ready. He shouldn’t, of course—but rank had its
privileges. Besides, Rosen and the others were fully capable of handling things
on their own.

 
          
Now,
if he were really taking advantage of the situation, he would ask someone else
to fill in for him as pilot, which he wasn’t.

 
          
“Miss
Gleason, if I could have a word,” he said as the others began filing out of the
trailer.

 
          
“Miss
Gleason?” she said, her face red.

 
          
“Um,
Ms. Sorry.”

 
          
“Miss
Gleason”

 
          
“Uh-oh,
Colonel, you stepped in it,” said Zen.

 
          
“
Hmmmph
,” said Breanna.

 
          
“I
had an idea about adding something to the com section of the computer,” said
Dog. “A language translator. As part of the regular communication area. “We
had—”

 
          
“Which
communication area?” she snapped. “In the flight-control computer, or the
master unit? Tactical or the mission-spree areas?”

 
          
She
wasn’t angry with him, he told himself, she was just busting his chops.

 
          
She
was, wasn’t she?

 
          
“Well
here’s the situation,” the colonel told her, starting to explain how they had
tried to talk to the Chinese yesterday.

 
          
“Important
officers in the Chinese military all speak English,” she insisted,
absentmindedly taking a stray strand of hair and pulling over her ear.

 
          
“They
may speak it, but in the heat of the battle, they don’t understand it too
well.”

 
          
“You
can have language experts on call at Dreamland.”

 
          
Damn,
she was being difficult. “In the heat of the moment, it would be easier if you
could press a button and what you said was translated and broadcast,” said Dog.
“It would prevent misunderstanding, and there’d be no time delay.”

 
          
“
Mmmm
,” she said.

 
          
“Can
you insert some sort of translator into the communications sections?”

 
          
“I’d
have to think about it.”

 
          
Busting
his chops, definitely. He could see the start of a grin on her face, a slight
hint.

 
          
Man,
he just wanted to jump in bed with her.

 
          
“We
should be ready to preflight in ten minutes,” said Rosen from near the doorway.

 
          
“I
may be delayed,” the colonel said. “I have to check back with Dream Command.”

 
          
“You
can do that from the flight deck, Daddy,” said Breanna. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to
say “Daddy,” Colonel,” she added in a tone of voice that left no doubt that
she’d done it on purpose.

 
          
“Colonel
Bastian, I need a word,” said Danny Freah, squeezing inside. “Has to be
private, sir.”

 
          
“Well,
I was just leaving,” said Jennifer.

 
          
Dog
managed to sit down in the chair without stopping her.

 
          
“Have
a good sleep?” asked Danny.

 
          
“Yes,
Captain, I did,” said Colonel Bastian. “Go ahead.”

 
          
“The
girl we picked up, from the village.”

 
          
“We
still have her?”

 
          
Dog
listened as Danny explained in detail what had happened, what the girl had told
Stoner, and what Stoner’s team had discovered on the atoll stations.

 
          
“I
should have told you she tried to shoot me,” said Danny when he was done. “I’m
sorry, sir.”

 
          
“Why
didn’t you?”

 
          
“I—it’s
a little hard to explain.”