“That was some performance,” said Congresswoman Sue Kelly, a Republican from New York. “You really had those computers going.”
“Thanks,” said Zen.
“And you almost got the blimp,” she added enthusiastically.
“Almost,” said Zen.
Of course, “almost” meant he’d lost the exercise, though that didn’t seem to matter to them. And it certainly didn’t bother Dog, who would now use the exhibition to talk up his favorite ugly-duck weapons system, the LADS blimp.
The blimp’s shape and structure were not terribly different from the basic design airships had used since roughly 1910. It was a fattish sausage, with its inner skeleton made of carbon-fiber material that helped keep it light. The engine was a hydrogen-cell powered propeller shielded within a baffled area at the lower end of the rear. It could do fifty knots or so — not particularly fast but respectable for a lighter-than-air vehicle. The sensors employed by the unit were housed in a flat pod that hung at the bottom of the bag. The pod, and two-thirds of the blimp, were covered by a lightweight plastic panel and an array of advanced LEDs, or light emitting diodes, which were powered by the engine and a strip of solar electric cells at the top of the craft. In simple terms, the LEDs — considerably more advanced than the ones used in consumer products, though the basic principles behind their functioning remained the same — tinting reflected light to create an optical illusion. The system was optimized for daylight skies — not only would it not blend well against a forest, for example, but it also had some difficulty at dusk. Even during the day, if someone were to stare at the vehicle for a long time, they would probably realize that there was something not quite right about that part of the sky. But at a distance to a casual observer, the LED system was the closest thing to a magician’s magic cloak of invisibility ever invented. Once problems with voltage spikes and the infrared signature were worked out, the system was likely to represent as big a revolution in warfare and surveillance as the first-generation Stealth Fighter had.
The blimps were visible on radar, and by very finely tuned infrared systems. The radar problem could be taken care of — as it had been in the demonstration — by placing jammer units close to the blimp but not actually in it, preventing an attacker from homing in on them. The IR problem was more difficult to overcome, but even the sensors in the Flighthawk could not pick up the blimp until the aircraft was within roughly two miles.
“Now remember, there’s a lot of work to do yet,” Dog told the crowd as the airship rode toward them. “You can see, though, how it comes in steadily even though there’s a good wind today out of the west. High winds have been a problem for lighter-than-air ships since their invention.”
“Is that a problem at thirty thousand feet?” asked one of the congressmen.
The airships’ ability to fly that high — it actually had been taken to over forty, and larger ships could go much higher — was classified. Dog made a show of acting perplexed, then answered.
“I thought I heard a question about altitude. I can only say we fly very high around here. And our altitude at the moment would be limited by sensor abilities to something oh, just out of the range of normal anti-aircraft guns. But no, that’s not a problem.”
There were some nods and appreciative winks. Zen shook his head, admiring the way the colonel handled the VIPs. For a guy who didn’t like politics and Washington BS, he sure could play the bigwigs when he had to.
Dog continued, waxing poetic about the system. The colonel was totally sold on blimps — with or without cloaking LEDs — as a low-cost way of providing radar and other sensor coverage over remote areas in the future. Much larger blimps were also being studied as low-cost equipment movers, and to hear Dog tell it, the day of the lighter-than-air vehicle was just around the corner.
The VIPs started drifting away toward the LADS landing area, watching the six-foot aircraft slide downward. Zen snickered as the aircraft’s controllers — it was flown entirely from the ground — pulled one last trick out of their hats: the LED system flashed, making the airship disappear into the background for a moment. Then the crowd of onlookers seemed to appear in the sky; as they settled down, they were replaced by a message: “Welcome to Dreamland.”
The VIPs applauded heartily.
“Everything’s PR,” said Zen, shaking his head.
“Yes,” said Ray Rubeo. Rubeo was the head scientist at the base, and its resident cynic.
“You should be happy, Ray,” Zen told the scientist. “Your computer beat me.”
“A draw is not a victory,” said Rubeo. He put his hand to his ear, squeezing the tiny gold earring there. “You flew well, and probably were only held off because your two students cheated.”
“Want to go for two out of three?”
“Another time, Major,” said the scientist, walking away.
Dog spotted Jennifer walking toward Zen’s station as the blimp dropped into a hover. He turned to Major Natalie Catsman, his second in command, and asked her to take over for him. She nodded.
“I have to tie up a few things, but I’ll meet everyone for lunch,” he announced. Then he walked swiftly toward Jennifer.
She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Even in those simple clothes, even with her hair military-short, she was beautiful, ravishingly beautiful.
And she was angry with him, though he wasn’t exactly sure why.
Dog waited while Jennifer and Zen discussed the parameters of the exercise they’d just flown. Zen started to laugh.
“Good morning, Jen,” said Dog, finally breaking in. He saw her whole body stiffen, inexplicably tensing up. Dog ignored it, turning to Zen. “You flew very well, Major. Your guys did a good job, too”
“I almost got your blimp,” Zen said.
“Either way, we would have looked good,” said Dog. “You going to be at lunch? The congresspeople can’t get enough of you.”
“I’ll do my bit for the team.”
“I appreciate it.” Dog turned to Jennifer. “You have a second, Doc?”
She shrugged, then followed as he walked toward the hangar.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“You weren’t at the apartment when I came back.”
“I had to work.”
“I’m sorry I had to leave. I know you were trying to make it a surprise. I just …”
The words stopped coming. He wanted to tell her — what, exactly?
That he loved her, damn it. But he couldn’t get that to come out of his mouth. Maybe it was because he was her boss, maybe it was because he was a good decade — well, decade and a half — older than her.
Maybe it was because the sun glinted off her hair and made her look like an angel. He just couldn’t say anything worthwhile. And so he said nothing.
“I’ve got some work,” she said. Her hand reached to her shoulder, as if to flick back her hair. It was an old habit, one she hadn’t completely erased. Something flashed into her face — pain maybe, a grimace of recognition.
“Dinner later, you think?” suggested Dog.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning.
He watched her walk away, feeling as impotent as he ever had in his life.
Chapter 20
Sahurah saw him as he walked from the house.
How young he is, thought Sahurah. Sixteen or seventeen.
The boy turned and went up the path. Sahurah waited a moment longer, then began pedaling his bicycle in the opposite direction, riding away from the small, well-kept house where the recruit lived with his mother and father and five sisters.