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Lpnet1
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Lpnet3 Sci-shorts-01
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| Lpnet3-100 Day of the Mystikon Chapter 1: The Martian Landlords Chapter 2: The Post Neutronic Era Chapter 3: The NYC and the EMDA Chapter 4: Stranded at Toyland Chapter 5: A Gem for a Raygun Chapter 6: An Isotope for an Engine Chapter 7: A Sublime Portent Chapter 8: A Hard Rain Chapter 9: Against the Wind Chapter 10. The Monster Tank Chapter 11: The Secret Agent Chapter 12: The NDX Unit Chapter 13: Fort Granite Chapter 14: Contact with the Natives |
Day
of the Mystikon
13. Fort Granite It was funny, driving along, seeing myself in the rear-view mirror. Never before in my entire life had I ever resembled what looked back. Air-force colonel Sten Daebolt, the most clean-cut, short-haired guy I’d ever gotten this close to, and it was a little too close for comfort. I had wanted to simply tie-back my hair in a pony-tail and tuck it under the hat, it was long enough for it, but Exo insisted it was too risky, and someone might notice. So, whether I liked it or not, over ten years of hair had to be sacrificed for the mission. I thought about having a cigarette, and looked all over the cab for one. There were none. Apparently, Colonel Daebolt didn’t smoke. As a matter of fact, neither did I ; but under the circumstances, I thought it might help if I did. No, that wasn’t right. Suddenly, as I continued to drive, I realized my nerves were erratic, causing me to be sloppy, displaying an attitude that was improper for a gentleman of military prestige. It was then that Lisa’s advice, from the night before, came to me like a warm whisper in the ear. “Just be cool,” she had said. “From what I’ve seen of you, you do that alright. In fact, you are so cool; sometimes you’re cold, too cold.” She was right. I could be cool, and I didn’t need a cigarette to do it. I could be a cool, calm gentleman. It was an attitude I’d been using ever since I was a teenager, hanging out with the gang. So I looked in the mirror, saw the shaded eyes look back, straightened my back, made a stiff upper chin, and just drove on, thinking cool thoughts. 30 minutes later, I arrived at the gates of Fort Granite and stopped at the checkpoint. I handed my ID to the airman on guard. “Please remove your sun-glasses, Colonel,” the man said. I did so as cool-like as possible, and looked at him. He nodded, looked away, and checked in with the com-link. A minute later, he handed the ID back and saluted. "Good afternoon, Colonel,” he said, as the gate began to open. I returned the salute, said nothing, and drove on in. It had been easy. I breathed deeply with relief and drove for 100 meters through a prairie-field speckled with clumps of weed and a few small trees, and then sited the complex. It was not very high, but as I entered the wide parking-lot, I could see that it was huge in width. It was a veritable fortress of granite. Yes, according to the report, 65 percent of the main foundation was granite stone; the rest was steel and concrete. It was close to 100 meters wide, and from the square of the map I’d seen, that made it quite large. As I located a parking space as close to the entrance as possible, I took note of a tunnel that led down to the subsurface level, about 20 meters to the left of the front entrance. I parked the car, sat shortly, closed my eyes and went over everything at light-speed for memory. My mind focused on the map of the complex and a little red dotted line began to project possible movements, like a video-game. I breathed deeply, opened my eyes, adjusted my hat (I still was not quite comfortable with it), grabbed the briefcase, and left the car. As I walked to the front door, I looked right and left at the granite face. The tunnel leading to the subsurface level was 20 meters to the left, surrounded by a brief slope of grass, which ended less than a meter below the second level’s line of windows. The windows were not large, set deep within the thick granite wall, and occurred within every other 10-meter length of the wall. There were windows by the front entrance, and to the right of it was the same without the tunnel. By the looks of it, much of it appeared to be air-tight. I walked up the steps between the slopes of grass, and entered the structure. The security-office was on the right, another set of locked doors directly ahead. I stopped at the window and handed my pentagon-issued orders to the airman. He was another young man like the one at the gate, and his eyes widened slightly as he looked at me. He turned to the console and made a com-link. “Colonel Daebolt, sir,” he said to the other end, listened and nodded. “Yes sir, right away sir.” He turned back to me, pressed a button, and the doors slid open. “Good to see you, Colonel,” he said, with the customary welcome and salute. I nodded, returned the salute, turned and walked through the doors. As I walked along the hall, wondering where I should go, an officer approached me and put out his hand. If I recalled the insignia, he was a major, which made him around my own status, more or less equal rank, depending upon certain particular extras, such as experience and performance, etc... “Sten Daebolt,” the man said, as if he knew me well, and shook my hand. “Major...,” I said, wondering what his name might be. It was at the tip of my tongue, but I’d always been poor at recalling such things. The papers in the briefcase had provided the names of the top-official personnel of Ft. Granite, but for the life of me I just could not remember. ‘Thurman,” the Major said, with perfect neutrality, showing no offense. “Yes, of course,” I said, with sudden recall, and used the line suggested to deal with the man. “Trained at Lackland, did a 2 year tour in the Philippines, acted as pentagon advisor with Lockheed before cuts were made in the space-program, and you’ve been working at Fort Granite now for the past 3 years.” The Major paused in reflection, perhaps a bit too self-conscious, and turned away with pumped-up pride. “Actually, I’ve been here for five years,” he said, leading me along the hall. “I do what I can. You, Colonel, on the other hand, seem to be the outstanding serviceman in the field. The General is anxious to see you. But between you and me, Sten, I’d remove the shades. It isn’t that bright in here.” We passed through another set of doors, and then turned down the hall to the right. I removed the shades, as the Major suggested, feeling slightly awkward for having forgotten about them in the first-place, and tried to recall the General’s name. |
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