He had spent some time at Andrews Air Force Base, cross training with the American F-15 wings before anyone had heard the word «Posleen» and he imagined that quite a few people were heading to the mountains or the beaches this weekend. His next leave was several months off, but he might take it there instead of . . .
* * *
«Come on, Sally!» shouted Big Tom Sunday as his daughter stepped up to the plate, «keep your eye on the ball!»
The booming voice caused more than one head to turn and Little Tom at his side grinned sheepishly as he saw Wendy Cummings look their way. She gave a slight, disinterested smile and looked back across the diamond. There Ted Kendall was surrounded by a bevy of young ladies like her, sentenced by their parents to watch a Saturday afternoon elementary school softball game.
Tommy followed her eyes and quickly turned back to watching the game. At a moment like this the shadow of his father seemed to overpower him like a rising flood, just as irresistible and as elemental. His father had been a football star, his father had been chased by the girls, his father never had to worry about what to do on a Saturday night. His father was a butthead.
Little Tom pulled his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt. There was a moment's sting in his eyes that he put down to the strong north wind and he took a surreptitious swipe as he redonned them. Just the wind. He need not bother being surreptitious, another check had Wendy halfway around the diamond, headed in the other direction.
* * *
Wendy walked slowly and carefully towards the crowd around Ted Kendall. Until the week before he had seemed welded at the hip to Morgen Bredell, the two the undisputed class king and queen as a classic double whammy: head cheerleader and lead quarterback. Since their spectacular breakup during study hall, the competition for both had become heavy. Morgen had latched onto Ted's number one rival for big man on campus, the school's lead fullback, Wally Parr, but Ted had seemed totally uninterested in female companionship.
Most of the school thought that he was waiting for Morgen to come back. Sooner or later she was bound to discover that Wally had fast hands not only in the backfield. Besides being the quarterback Ted was considered an all-round nice guy. As too many girls had learned, that did not hold for Wally.
Wendy had considered that dissimilarity carefully before deciding to move into the circle around Ted. After a few unpleasant dates with the backfield she had practically sworn off football players, but maybe Ted would be different. She practiced her opening line as she swayed closer.
* * *
Little Tom glanced over again as Wendy closed in on the bevy, then looked away as his eyes burned from the sun shining off her long blonde hair. You'd figure sooner or later they'd learn. He pulled his glasses off again and took another swipe at his eyes.
«What the hell's wrong now, Tommy?» asked his father.
«Nothin', Dad.»
«Allergies?»
«No, just the sun. I should have brought my shades.»
«With all I paid for custom sunglasses, you think you would. Stop a Posleen shotgun blast.»
«Yep,» said Little Tom with an unheard sigh at his dad's total cluelessness. «Pity about the rest of my face, mind you.»
His dad laughed and went back to berating his sister. At nine she was already a star athlete and well on the way to erasing Big Tom's shame at having a computer geek for a son. Big Tom unconsciously checked the Glock behind his back as a high, thin line of cirrus clouds swept across the sun.
«Could come any time,» he commented just as unconsciously.
«Yep. Anytime,» Little Tom agreed. Another sigh and rolled eyes. «Dad, can I go home now?»
«No. We need to stay here and show our support for Sally.»
«Dad, Sally's got enough confidence for three of us. She knows we support her. I've got homework and I have to get in two hours range time so I can be in the tournament next week. When am I going to be able to?»
«After the game,» answered his father with a frown.
«After the game you are taking Sally and her friends out for sundaes,» answered Little Tom with the sort of remorseless logic that always got him in trouble. «You will expect me to participate in that as well. After sundaes we will convey Sally's friends to their various residences. We will return home at approximately nine p.m. You will maintain lights out for ten p.m. I repeat . . .»
«Tommy,» Big Tom growled.
«Shut up.»
«More or less. You are going to show your support or you can kiss any goddamn computer game tournament good-bye.»
Little Tom took a deep breath. «Yes, sir!» he snapped, crossing his arms and tapping one boot.
«When is this damn tournament, anyway?» asked his father.
«Next Saturday, three p.m. until it finishes,» said Little Tom, knowing he was in for it.
«You're supposed to be participating in a Youth Militia exercise that night!»
«Chief Jordan excused me,» said Little Tom with another roll of the eyes. «I've outgrown the local militia, Dad. Besides, the tournament counts as tactical exercises for military prep credit.»
«Who says?» asked Big Tom with a snort of disgust at the asinine idea. As if sitting in front of a computer playing shoot-'em-up games could be considered real combat training.
«Fleet,» answered Tommy. «They count national standing in Death Valley toward military pre-training.»
«Well, I don't. You need to know what the real thing is like, not a Virtual fairy tale. You're going on the Youth Militia exercise.»
«Dad!»
«No means no.»
«Okay, no means fucking no,» said the son furiously. «In that case, what is my motivation for watching this softball bullshit, O Great Master of All Things Military?»
«Watch your mouth, mister!»
«Dad, you are a fuckin' dinosaur!» the teenager finally exploded. «I am damned if I'm going to be in any Ground Force unit! I am going to be Fleet Strike or nothing! And Youth Militia does not count towards Fleet! I don't mind you acting like I've got two heads and a tail because I don't measure up to your ideal son, but you are not going to screw up my chances of getting into Fleet!»
«You had better calm down and get a civil tongue in your head or you're going to be grounded for the rest of the school year!»
Little Tom met his father's eyes fiercely but he knew the old man would never back down now. With the other parents listening it was going to be a point of pride, something that his father had in overabundance. His eyes closed and his face worked in anger as he tried to control himself. Finally he opened his eyes.
«I am going to go catch a ride home,» he snarled at his father. «And then I am going to cap targets for a couple of hours. And I suspect I am not going to miss.»
«Get out of here,» his father husked and dismissed him from his attention.
He stepped out of the crowd of parents and started looking for someone, anyone who had a car. As he did he saw the coach of the opposing team charge onto the field towards the umpire.
* * *
Wendy waited carefully as Ted warmed to expounding about himself. Until his breakup with Morgen he had been the quietest of all the football players. His humility was rapidly slipping away under the onslaught of female attention and since there was not much he could think of to talk about except football the focus was on recent games.
«Then I handed off to Wally and he ran . . .» he continued.