Guns And Dogs (17 page)

She looked at him alarmingly. “You shouldn’t be playing around with anything. What have you done?”

He stood up and chuckled at her, as if nothing had happened. “Relax, I’ve only been tinkering around, nothing to get all worked up about.”

“Tinkering?” Patrice felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “What type of tinkering?”

“I think I’ve managed to increase TimeBoss’ efficiency by reconfiguring the power supply cells.” He drew a scanner from his labcoat pocket and showed her the readings. “Impressive huh? You’re not the only brain around here.”

Patrice tried to calm herself. Getting angry would only cloud her judgment and make her look weak in front of this opportunistic prick. She eyed the readings and noticed that TimeBoss was operating at a slightly higher level. “How did you manage this?”

“Easy, I rerouted half the power from one of the auxiliary power generators. It’s not like we use them regularly.”

“You moron! Those auxiliary generators exist in case of an emergency. By rerouting power you could create an imbalance in power distribution. Did you even bother to run a simulation before you started messing with these systems?”

Oscar flashed her a dubious glance, as if she’d stepped on his foot and forgot to apologize. “Simulations? That’s just a waste of time. I’m a man of action. I had an idea and just went with it.”

She tossed the scanner back at him and he juggled it before catching it. “This is what you’re gonna do right now, Brookstone,” she said, sounding like an angry parent scolding a misbehaving child, “you are to immediately restore these new configurations to their default settings. Do that and I’ll overlook your act of insubordination.”

“I think you’re upset because you didn’t think of this idea yourself. But, if it makes you feel any better Patrice, I’ll give you equal credit.”

She shook her head ruefully and pushed him aside. “Not only are you reckless, but you’re pigheaded as well. If you won’t do as I say, then I’ll be forced to fix this hodge-podge mess.”

“Wait! That’s my work we’re talking about!”

An alarm went off and Patrice turned away from Oscar. Rushing towards the nearest computer terminal she saw a flashing indicator on her screen indicating a fire had broken out in one of the smaller hangars. Unfortunately, the system that activated the FireBots—the fire extinguishing team—found themselves tied to the auxiliary generators, which Brookstone had rerouted. It would take time to fix. “I need your help,” Patrice said, “we’ve got a fire in hangar bay two, go and restore your modifications now.”

Oscar didn’t look too happy but he nodded and started working.

“Hurry, the fire is starting to get out of control,” Patrice said.

“Alright, alright,” Oscar said, as his nimble hands worked quickly to fix the problem.

A second later, another alarm indicator flashed on her screen. Part of the fire had reached one of the fuel tanks used to refuel AL utility vehicles. Patrice noticed this and notified Brookstone. “I’m almost done here,” he said. But the fire had reached the first fuel tank. The computer indicated an explosion had taken place. Now the fire was raging out of control. Patrice felt like strangling her colleague, but now was not the time for her to lose her cool.“Hurry!” she insisted.

Moments later auxiliary generator power had been restored. The FireBots were alerted of the fires, and dispatched to extinguish them.

“You’re both suspended until further notice.”

It was the first time Patrice had seen Director Mitchell exacerbated. But he had good reason to be upset. Millions of dollars of equipment had been damaged when the fire had ignited the fuel tanks half a dozen people had been seriously injured, and three FireBots had been destroyed while fighting the fire. It would take weeks to repair the damage.

“It’s a miracle no one was killed,” Mitchell continued, “but that doesn’t get either of you off the hook. This incident will be logged as a reprimand on both of your service records.” He sat down in his leather chair and shook his head before addressing Oscar Brookstone. “You’re dismissed.” Brookstone nodded and slinked out of the office like a snake. Patrice turned to leave.

“I’m not done with you, Waters.”

“May I say something, sir? In my own defense?”

“You may, but I doubt it will help you.”

“I gave specific instructions to Brookstone to follow my directions: not to attempt any modifications on TimeBoss’ systems. The computer log will validate my orders. It makes no sense that I’m being punished.”

Mitchell stared at her indifferently for a few seconds before exhaling. He looked tired, and older than before, as if this incident had aged him. “Patrice, one thing you must understand is that being assigned a leadership position doesn’t excuse you from the actions of others. Quite the opposite, as a leader you have to assume full responsibility for the actions of those assigned under your command. Good, or bad.”

She opened her mouth to interject but he raised a thick finger to silence her.

“I expected more from someone with your pedigree. To say I am disappointed in you would be an understatement. This reflects badly on both of us.”

“Sir, Oscar Brookstone is an egotistical opportunist, without any regard for authority. He thinks he can operate above the law and get away with it.”

Mitchell nodded. “Yes, we knew this when we recruited him, and that was one of the reasons I had him assigned to work with you.”

“Sir?”

“Patrice, your AL test results indicated a strong propensity for leadership. I know that apart from your extracurricular activities at MIT, you haven’t had much experience in leadership positions in real world situations, that’s why we assigned a risk-taker like Brookstone to work with you. Unfortunately, this incident proves you’re not ready for command. You’ll still be our lead Eyeball assigned to TimeBoss, but we may need to assign you to more leadership training classes. I’m thinking about assigning you to training duties in between your Eyeball shifts.”

“But that falls under human resources’ jurisdiction.” She hated it when others made decisions for her, especially ones which relegated her to mediocre roles. Not that she thought negatively of AL’s HR department, she just didn’t have any interest working there.

“Exactly,” Mitchell replied. “If this screw-up has taught us anything, it’s that you need more interaction with others, especially our newest recruits.” He looked at his watch. “I have a meeting with the Secretary of Defense at the Pentagon.”

“Very well, sir,” Patrice replied.

“I’m granting you two weeks of unpaid leave. Go home and think about your position here at AL and whether or not you want to remain working with us. If you decide that you do, we’ll proceed from there. Now, you’re dismissed.”

An hour later Patrice was in her quarters, she hadn’t started packing yet, she didn’t feel like leaving. Why did Mitchell think she needed time to think about her future at AL? As if she hadn’t made it obvious she loved her job here, working with some of the most brilliant minds on Earth, not to mention the highly-advanced technology that was leaps ahead of what any other United States governmental agencies had at their disposal.

She wondered what her parents would say when she turned up at their doorstep. What would she tell them? That she was suspended? On vacation?

The first failure of her career and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

AL Command Headquarters

Present Day

Johnny was glad to be back home. 1861 had been interesting, but it had also been disconcerting.

Still, it had been a notable start to his AL career, and he knew if his father were around, he would have been proud of him.

After landing Gina inside Mount Baldy, they disembarked and were greeted by a team of technicians that welcomed them home before getting to work on inspecting Gina’s systems and getting her ready for the next mission.

After changing out of their field jackets and returning their weapons and equipment to the arsenal they reported to the conference room for their mission debriefing. Jessie and Studs followed them.

Johnny was happy to see Director Mitchell sitting in his chair. Sitting next to him was Patrice. He was surprised to find that he was glad to see her too.

“Welcome back gentlemen. Your mission was a success, otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Mitchell said good-naturedly.

“Yes,” Patrice added, “the timeline has been fully restored, well done.”

“How did you like it, Johnny?” Mitchell asked.

“The mission, sir? Or the time period itself?”

“Both.” Johnny looked at Mitchell before his eyes shifted towards Patrice. She smiled at him and he felt as if her demeanor towards him was softening.

“The mission was everything I’d expected from that time period, sir. Some folks back then were
very
primitive.”

Mitchell grinned. “I suppose they were, Johnny. But in a few hundred years, I’m sure future people may find us ‘primitive’ as well.”

Argos took a seat at the conference table and Johnny followed suit. “We met Mark Twain,” Johnny said. “He’s as impressive as his writing.”

“Naturally,” Patrice chimed in, “I’ve read all his books, he was a man way ahead of his time.”

“That he was,” Johnny said before Argos placed the Lycarian buoy on the table.

“You found a buoy?” Patrice asked.

“We acquired this in 1861 from the Lycarian who was sent to kill Abraham Lincoln. It’s a time buoy.”

“Good job men,” Mitchell said. He pressed a button on his wristlink, “we’ll have Research and Development begin picking it apart immediately.” A few moments later two men in white lab coats appeared and took the time buoy. “Now you two get some rest, you’ve earned it. We’ll meet back here once the information in the buoy has been analyzed.”

After temporarily parting ways with Argos (who took Jessie and Studs outside the AL base for a walk), Johnny took a shower and went to unwind in his quarters. He decided to write his first mission report while it was still fresh in his memory before sending his mother an e-mail. After looking over his report and correcting any lingering spelling/punctuation mistakes, he turned his attention to the e-mail. After that was finished, he decided to try some writing. He hadn’t written down a single word since he’d been rejected by Darkwood and he felt the time had come to get back to wordsmithing.

But the words wouldn’t come. He slammed his fist against the table surface, cursed, then tried again. Nothing. Maybe he was in the wrong state of mind. Anger never helped, and his mother had always told him to write for fun, as if it was a hobby, not with the intention that he’d be a world-famous writer one day. But writing meant a lot to him, and it was the only thing that made him feel in control, and despite the rejections, something inside of him urged him to carry on. He wondered if other writers felt like he did. He wanted to ask, problem was, he didn’t know any
real
writers. He hated sharing his work with those other wannabe writers. They never gave constructive criticism, and always acted like condescending pricks when it came to critiquing other peoples work.

The doorbell to his room chimed softly and he looked up from his word processor. “Come in!”

His door slid open and Patrice walked in. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you, Johnny.”

Johnny? Did she just call me by my first name?
It was a surprise, a pleasant one, he thought. “Not at all, come on in, Patrice.” She thanked him and stepped inside.

“I must say I wasn’t expecting you,” he said with a smile on his face to prevent her from feeling uncomfortable.

“I bet,” she replied before she looked around the spartan surroundings of his room.

“I know, my quarters aren’t that interesting, but I haven’t had the time to decorate.”

“No they’re fine. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”

He stood up from his bed. “The thought did occur to me.”

“I just wanted to apologize to you. I haven’t really treated you fairly, and I just wanted you to know that isn’t who I am. Rude, that is. It’s just that I had a bad experience once with a new recruit and I kinda took it out on you. Very unprofessional, I know.”

For the second time in the past few moments she’d surprised him. First, by appearing inside his room, and now by apologizing to him. For a moment Johnny wondered if he was hallucinating, but then realized he wasn’t since he could smell her perfume. “No need to apologize, Patrice.”

“Well I think you’re
too
forgiving,” she replied. “I’ve acted like a conceited little bitch.”

Johnny laughed. “Conceited? Maybe. But a bitch? No. I think you’re being too hard on yourself there. It’s natural to be wary of newcomers.”

“Still, you’re a part of the team now; an AL operative.”

“It’s nice of you to think so,” he said, not quite sure where this conversation was heading.

She approached him, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He felt a tingle ripple through his body before she headed for the door. “Well, I just wanted you to know how I regretted treating you before. Anyway, talk to you later.”

After Patrice left, Johnny scratched his head, and looked at himself in the mirror. “Now that was weird.”

Argos was glad to be home. He thought about the mission they had just completed and wondered how he’d managed to not kill the two racists who’d taunted him back in 1861. His training probably had something to do with it, and also the fact that he had to serve as a role-model to Johnny, who desperately needed one now that Scott was gone.

He checked his phone for any texts or voicemail messages during his absence and his face became mired in a scowl. No calls from Gina. He had one text from Jessie but that was the standard I-need-to-ask-you-for-some-money message. He’d get back to her eventually but his thoughts turned to Studs. The boy hadn’t returned most of his calls since he and Gina had separated and Argos grew more concerned every day. Jessie had taken her parents separation a lot better than her younger brother, and Argos felt that he needed to see his son more often.