Delta Green - страница 44

The maintenance officer at Merlin told him that Delta Blue’s valve actuator had been replaced and was undergoing final testing. The orders came in at 9:30 P.M., and Don Curtis, the sergeant on the graveyard communications shift, printed them out and brought them into the Command Center.

“Hey, Colonel. Here’s something interesting.”

McKenna took the orders from him, scanned them, and whistled. “Damned interesting, Don. I’ll take care of it.”

The orders transferring Avery to command of Merlin Air Base were another surprise for the day. It meant Avery would get his star, and it meant that Cartwright was out. McKenna was glad he hadn’t complained directly to Brackman about the man. He had learned over time that Brackman could usually figure out things for himself.

He left the Command Center and scooted his way to Spoke Two, the residential spoke in which Overton was housed. He found the general engaged in a gin game with Brad Mitchell.

McKenna floated the papers in front of them.

“I’ll be damned,” Mitchell said.

“I’m happy for Milt,” Overton said, then looked at the other order. “Well. I get a new deputy at the same time.”

“Brackman didn’t bother consulting me on that.”

“Is that going to be a problem, Jim?” McKenna asked.

“Not for me. Probably why I wasn’t consulted.”

“Good. Okay if I tell her?”

Overton grinned at him, sharing knowledge that wasn’t supposed to be common. “Just this one time. Brad and I will go roust Avery.”

McKenna made his way through the locks to Spoke Sixteen. The lights in the spoke and in the corridor of the module were dimmed. A curtain had been drawn across the opposite end of the corridor, closing off the dining area, and he could hear subdued voices on the other side of it.

The space station observed Eastern Daylight Time, and quiet hours were enforced from ten at night until six in the morning. Still, operating the satellite was a twenty-four-hour chore and people were sleeping, eating, or working at all times of the day and night. McKenna and his squadron had the most irregular hours, dependent on their flight schedules.

McKenna bypassed the hygiene stations and his own cubicle: a four by four by eight foot compartment with his personal locker, a communications panel, a fabric pouch, and padded walls.

He arrested his flight next to Pearson’s cubicle.

“Amy, you awake?”

No response.

He pulled the curtain aside by a few inches.

“Amy?”

She was strapped against the padded wall opposite the communications panel. A Strauss waltz issued from the speaker. Her denim headband was missing, and her auburn hair floated lazily. She was dressed in the loosely fitting sleep suit that everyone called a potato sack, but one of the Velcro straps was cinched below her breasts, making them prominent.

“Amy?”

She opened one eye.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“Kevin?” she said, coming fully awake. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, smiling.

The pupils of her eyes enlarged in the dim light. “Kevin, not here!”

“Ah, honey…”

“Don’t honey me. There’s too many people around.”

“How about my place, then?”

“There’s nothing different about your place.”

“If you give me a kiss, I’ll give you a present,” he said.

She shook her head negatively, then released a strap and stuck her head out far enough to survey the corridor. When she saw they were apparently alone, she kissed him lightly on the lips.

They were soft and warm and slightly moist. They would have been more eager, he thought, if she weren’t so concerned about appearances.

“What’s the present?”

He gave her her promotion and reassignment order.

“What?”

She tried to read it in the darkness of her cubicle, squirming around to shift into the light from the corridor.

He reached across her to the control panel and turned on the interior light.

“My God! Really?”

“Really.”

“Come in here,” she ordered.

McKenna pulled himself into the compartment and zipped the curtain shut.

Colonel Amy Pearson… Colonel McKenna… Colonel and Colonel McKenna…

Pearson realized she had awakened. Her mind had been drifting aimlessly, not wanting to acknowledge the necessity of addressing a new day.