“Sir…”
“Stop. Just sit down. No more of the Sir stuff for now. Can you do that Lieutenant?”
No one knew better than the Commanding Officer of how hard it was to break that habit. It had been drilled into them every day. Miller finally relaxed and took a seat. It was going against everything he had been taught.
“Miller, you have been more than exceptional in an area were exceptional is considered the norm. Every man who makes it through this program is a shining example of the best that the Special Forces has to offer. Only a few are able to excel even beyond our highest standards. You are one of those men,” he said.
“Thank you, Sir” Miller replied.
To him, all he had done was his best. He didn’t see himself as any better than his fellow Seals. With the exception of one or two of them, he felt they were all great guys.
“What I am about to tell you now is strictly Top Secret. You are to repeat this to no one outside this room.”
“I understand,” Miller said, dropping the ‘sir’ for the first time.
“The government has a special unit that only a handful of people know about. As good as the Seals are, this special unit is the cream of the cream of the cream. Very few are recommended for the program. I think you would be well suited. You possess the exceptional skills that are required to make it in that program,” he said.
“Thank you. That’s quite an honor.”
“Wait and see if you still thank me after you go through training. It is even harder than what’s been thrown at you here,” the Commanding Officer said.
“I think I’m up to the challenge Sir,” Miller responded.
“So do I or I wouldn’t recommend you. You will report to Idaho Falls, Idaho. Here are your travel arrangements and agenda. Memorize the agenda and then dispose of it. You are to wear civilian clothes and your belongings will be shipped to you. The tickets are for civilian transport. You are to let your hair grow. You don’t leave for three weeks so hopefully you won’t look quite so military. We don’t want you to stand out any more than necessary. At least that’s the theory. Seals carry themselves in such a way that it’s hard to disguise, but do your best.”
“May I ask the name of the unit I will be assigned to?”
“You will be with a group only identified as STRIKE-1. The group is made up of special men, ones like you, from different military forces and backgrounds. They are a part of the SOG program. That’s all I am at liberty to tell you right now. When you get to Idaho Falls, you are to go to the hotel identified in your travel orders, check in and wait to be contacted.”
“Yes Sir, I understand Sir. Thank you for this opportunity, Sir.”
“No. Thank you and congratulations, and good luck. Do us proud.”
Miller left very surprised and curious about what this secret Strike-1 was all about. Harder than the Seals training? It must be some organization he concluded, to top what he had just been through.
Now he stood at the top of Heartbreak Hill, wondering what was in store for him when he left next week. He had immediately started on a rigorous PT program. The last thing he wanted to do was show up out of shape.
He spent time on the firing range, using the vast array of weapons available to the Seals. His hair was at an awkward stage. Not long enough to look like a civilian and not short enough to look like a Seal. He swam at least two miles every day and worked out with weights routinely.
Strike-1. What in the heck did they do? Anti-terrorist? First strike operations? A little of both? He knew what SOG was, Special Operations Group, but STRIKE-1 he was clueless about. Whatever it was, he was going to make sure he was ready both mentally and physically. He jogged down the hill and did a few cool down exercises before going back to the barracks and taking a long hot shower.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Damn it. I do not understand what the hell is making this thing work. I understand the principle but ‘how’ does it do it exactly?” Dr. Stone said, tossing his clipboard on the table. It bounced once and clattered to the floor. He looked at it disgustedly.
“We’ll get it,” his assistant replied.
“When? I don’t have forever. I’ve been working on this thing for almost three years already and I’m just as baffled as when I started. If that little green hairless blob was well, maybe I could get some answers. They say he is dying. Over two hundred years old and he picks this particular time to croak,” the doctor said, picking up the clipboard.
“I don’t think he likes it much better than you do.”
“Did I ask? Do I care? I just want to know how this damn thing produces the anti-gravitational field. What is the process that allows the core material to produce the field? Look at the damn thing. It’s just a stupid sphere. What goes on to make the process happen? Until I know that, I can never duplicate this thing. They want answers and I don't have them,” he said.
“If you can’t figure it out, no one can. You are the top expert on propulsion in the world. You’ll get it,” the assistant insisted.
“I appreciate your support but right now I would much rather have a few answers. We have missed something. I know damn good and well the sphere container is holding the key. Something interacts when the core is put in place. What? Channeling the energy released is simple, but I need to understand the process if we are ever going to duplicate the damn thing. What am I missing?”
“Short of cutting the sphere open, I think you have done everything. You can’t do that; it might destroy the model,”
“I’m all too aware of that. Besides what could cut this damn material anyway? Damn it, why did that cretin “J” have to get so sick right now?”
“You need to take a break. Just walk away from it for a few hours. You know some of your best ideas have come after you quit pushing yourself so hard.”
“You’re right. It’s just that I hate to give up. How can something that appears so simple stump me so completely?”
The assistant knew there was nothing that he could say at this point that would help so he remained silent. The doctor walked around the sphere like that would produce some magical answer but none came.
Finally he stuffed his hands in his lab coat pockets and stormed out of the lab. His assistant was right. Looking at the damn thing wasn’t doing him one bit of good.
General Devin had been watching the doctor's rant over the security cameras that were concealed in the duct work. Maybe he didn’t have the right man for the job. After three years he had accomplished very little.
Devin rubbed his chin and started weighing out the pros and cons of keeping the doctor as head of the team. Of course he couldn’t just dismiss him; it would create another potential leak source. That would mean certain arrangements would have to be made. Of course that didn’t present much of a problem really. The general already had a solution in place.
The doctor would have an accident one day and that would be the end of that. What he needed to do now was find the right person to replace him and then he could dispose of the doctor without loss of productivity.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lt. Miller leaned over and looked out the window as the airplane was just about to touch down. There wasn’t a lot to see. Idaho Falls was not an international city by any stretch of the imagination.
A light dusting of snow covered the grass between the runway strips but the sky was bright and blue. When they rolled to a stop, rather than jump up like the other ninety-nine percent of the passengers, he remained seated. Almost everyone had made their exit before he stood up and took his carry-on luggage from the overhead bin. He was in no hurry. No one was going to greet him. He didn’t have to wait for his luggage; it would be sent to his hotel or it could already be there for all he knew.