Chapter 4: Colors

Olé and Doc were at attention wearing creased and starched khakis. Chromed helmet liners were on their heads. Olé held the flag halyards loosely in his calm hands. The moment the lower limb of the sun cleared the horizon, Doc saluted. The bugle played “To the Color.” Olé rapidly ran the Colors to the mast head, made the halyard fast with a practiced hitch, took one step backwards and saluted, joining Doc. After a ten seconds count, Olé ordered “TWO!” They dropped their salutes, about faced and came face to face with the lieutenants, also just completing their salutes.

“Good morning” all at the same time. Some juggling, fits and starts as to whom would speak next. “Colors Guard!” Doc barked. Olé jumped to attention. “Dis ... MISSED!” Relaxed again Olé resolved the speaking order, “Ladies first!”

“We need offices” was the gist of the request they made. They were invited to breakfast in the NCO club while looking at maps of the town as once was. For the suitable nearby office buildings, Olé would mark out what was already occupied, what vacant, and what was too shabby to effectively repair quickly. Doc volunteered to cook.

“Without getting into secured information, can you tell us the story hour version of ‘First Contact’ with the nanobots?” Doc’s ears were nearly wriggling in expectant excitement. “One of mankind’s most anticipated events is a first contact with aliens. You were there. It must have been euphoric! How can you talk to them? How DO you talk with them? DO you actually talk with them? Did they contact us, first? How did you determine it was safe, I mean, how could you know if they were friendly? What was it like to...”

Both lieutenants put their hands up in the classic palms defense ‘Slow down, Doc.’ Lt. Halke continued the push/block gesture.

Lieutenant Cruz complained, “You were never willing to talk to me about it, Leanna. If you are going to tell Doc and Olé, may I stay and listen? Can I ask questions of my own, too? I have been very patient waiting for this opportunity. I want this chance. I want to hear, to know. Please tell us!”

“Well!” Lieutenant Halke was intensely thoughtful and dug out her notebook and a pen. “I will need a few minutes to create an outline of a ‘Story Hour’ account, which then I can redact. Give me a few moments, please.”

Head down, she began rapid scribbling, drawing corrals around wordy sections, connecting things with arrows, totally immersed in creating her outline. She didn’t even seem to notice when Doc put platters of food on the table. Appearances can be deceiving. Without once looking up or ceasing writing, she served herself one handed, fixed herself a plate, pulled it to her and began to eat. Like watching a disembodied hand with a life and agenda of its own.

When finally she looked up, she smiled at the anxious faces smiling at her. She looked around and said, “Oh, breakfast!” She fixed another plate and ate it ravenously, totally intent on the food.

Olé’s hand began to creepily crawl on its finger tips, across the table. Doc mime mouthed him, sternly, “STOP IT!” Lieutenant Cruz watched her friend protectively, a gentle expression of understanding and concern on her face.

Once Lieutenant Halke finished the food, she thoughtfully nursed a mug of coffee awhile. Everyone waited. Silent and patiently, they waited. Arriving at some conclusion, Lieutenant Halke took a sudden big gulp of coffee, set it down and began scribbling more furiously than before. It brought everyone to the edge of their chairs. Like observing an epiphany! Climatically, dramatically, Lieutenant Halke tore the page from her notebook, vigorously wadded it on her breakfast plate, and set fire to it with matches from her purse. She stirred and prodded it with her fork, playing with it until it was consumed.

“What I can tell you,” she preambled, looking from face to face, “is, its mathematics.” and then she was silent. Everyone waited for her to explain further, but she didn’t. She’d retired once more to internalizing, where a conversation was taking place, judging from her varied expressions and nods of her head.