“We have a few more things up our sleeves. The areas we have left open for them to enter have a number of old mining operations. We plan on placing a number of tank units in those underground mines. When the Russians come in and go past us, we just pop out and come in behind them,” said Pol leaning back in his chair.
Hammond chuckled. “Remind me never to fight you folks in the future. You play dirty,” he joked.
Everyone laughed. The Belgian General raised a finger, “And we will continue to do so, so keep it in mind!”
There was more laughter. In Hammond’s mind, he was much more secure about how the Europeans would do in this war. Now with a few touches that the Americans would bring, they might just stand a chance.
During the night more people had come into the center, but everyone had been able to get food and at least some shelter. Road crews were already getting the streets back into shape and linemen from the electric companies were repairing lines and restoring power where they could. The good news was that after repairing the water line under South Harbor Boulevard, water was restored to the Iowa and the refugee center. Overnight the Iowa’s tanks were reduced by half and priority had to be given to providing feed water for the ship’s boilers.
Breakfast had been an orderly affair. Most were happy to be fed at all, and the smells of the breads and pastries made the experience a little more like home. Already some of the people were going back to see what was left of their homes, to salvage what they could and return later. The media were all over the area shooting footage, interviewing those at the center and making a nuisance of themselves.
After making sure Steve was taken care of, Mayor Patricia Hammond had returned to the parking lot to reassure the people there. She was a welcome sight. Most people felt she really did understand what they were going through and was trying to help. As she made her way through the crowds she was welcomed by smiling faces and words of thanks. She was in the middle of a media interview when a call came through on her cell phone. She saw it was from Sacramento and begged away a moment.
She opened her phone and put it on speaker. “Mayor Hammond,” she said.
“Mayor, just what in the hell do you think you are doing?” asked the Governor.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are not authorized to solicit help from the Federal Government or anyone else except me,” he scolded. “I got a call from none other than your friend, the President, yesterday asking what help we needed. And now you have commandeered a battleship and using it to help your people when I have a whole county needing help!” he shouted. “I ought to drive down there and remove you from office!”
Patricia Hammond became very angry. “Remove me from office? You haven’t got the balls. I am down here making sure the people who elected me are being taken care of, and for your information, there is an agreement between the Navy and the City of San Pedro that in an emergency we can use this ship to help out these people. It’s a part of the agreement that got the ship down here in the first place. And if you didn’t have your head stuffed squarely up your ass, you would have been down here yesterday instead of sitting in Sacramento trying to get me to bow down. Well, I’m doing my job. My people are doing fine without you. So Governor, the best thing you can do is buzz off!” she shouted before ending the conversation. She was still steaming as she walked rapidly away. What she did not realize was that the media cameras continued to gather video and sound during the conversation. Within ten minutes it was flashed across the United States that the Mayor of San Pedro had told the Governor of California to buzz off.
Hammond turned on the television set in his room and turned it on to CNN. He was surprised to see his wife, and even more surprised at what she had done. He sat back and laughed, then placed a call.
“Mayor Hammond.”
“You are beautiful when you’re angry,” he said.
He could hear her lighten up at the other end. “He just pissed me off. You know how I can be.”
Hammond’s laughter was genuine. “Yes, but promise me you won’t kick him in the privates when you see him.”
She was laughing now on the other end. “I promise. You about to come home?”
“One more day. These are good people. I wish you were here.”
“I wish I was too, but we’ll manage. Your son slept in your cabin last night,” she said.
“I bet he liked that. You two weren’t hurt much, we you?”
“No, a couple of scratches. We were outside when it happened. I don’t know how our home fared yet. Maybe I’ll get over there sometime today.”
“You need me to come home?”
“No, you’d be in the way. Let me get everything online here and I should still get to DC in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Yea, I miss you too. I’ll call again when I get the chance. Tell Steve I said hi.”
“Will do. See you soon.”
“Bye.”
Chapter 4
Acceptance
Dr. Mason was angry. One of his team members had screwed up the latest plate, allowing it to remain in the oven far too long. Already they had determined the new material would completely absorb radio frequency radiation, but they also discovered that it was an astounding antenna. When coupled to a receiver, its ability to pull in distant signals had been amazing. Sticking the initial plate on top of the building, they had picked up television signals from Toronto, Canada. AM radio, they picked up from as far as Honolulu. The Center had then purchased a large oven that would allow them to make plates up to four feet square, nearly three times the original plate. But then the young assistant had begun working on something on his computer and didn’t pay attention to the timing. He had also set the temperature too high. As a result, the plate had come out of the oven black, instead of the usual gray.
Mason watched heat radiate off the plate, now cooling on a wooden table. He walked over to it and looked into the black surface. It was the deepest black he had ever seen. The surface looked smooth as glass, but there were no reflections in it. Reaching over the plate, he tried to feel how hot it really was, when a small arc of electricity shot off the brass attachment grommet and struck his arm, accompanied by the sound of a crack.
The jolt knocked Mason back from the table and onto the floor. The young assistant rushed over. “Are you alright?” he blurted out, concerned.
Mason picked himself up off the floor and looked at the plate. “How the hell did that happen?” he exclaimed. “We don’t have a short in here, do we?”
The assistant shook his head. “No, there’s no electricity to that table at all.”
The men walked around the table looking for a possible electrical source. There was none. They looked at each other. “Beats me,” said the assistant.
Mason put on some rubber gloves and grabbed a grounding tool. After making sure it was grounded, he passed the copper probe near the grommet again. Once again, a spark shot from the grommet to the probe. Backing away again, Mason looked at the young man. “What the hell,” he exclaimed.
Both men simply stared at the plate for a moment until the assistant rolled over a piece of test equipment. “Let’s see how much voltage we are talking about there.”
Attaching a copper lead to the wire from the voltage meter, he eased the end of the probe to the grommet once again. This time, he forced the probe onto the piece of brass. The meter jumped off the initial scale. Resetting the equipment for a different scale, he did it again. The meter reached 450 volts and remained steady.