Revolution by Dale Brown Read Free Book Online

Samson thought about the implications, his mood quickly sank. For one thing, he wanted Bastian gone from Dreamland, and the medal would make it harder to push him out. It might even be impossible if Bastian decided to fight.
    Worse, what if Bastian put his hand up to become wing commander? How could he refuse a Medal of Honor winner?
    Bastian wasn’t a full colonel, and wing commanders almost always were. But hell, the guy had held a post a major general now commanded, and had won a Medal of Honor in combat—only a supercilious prig would deny him the post if he truly wanted it.
    How did Bastian get the medal, anyway? Samson wondered. Wasn’t the process normally begun with a recommendation from his commander? In what drunken stupor had he written that recommendation?
    Samson’s phone rang. He picked it up, and heard his chief civilian secretary, Chartelle Bedell, tell him in her singsong voice that Admiral Balboa was on the line.
    â€œSamson,” he said, pushing the button to make the connection.
    â€œGeneral. Congratulations are in order,” said Balboa. “Your command is to receive an armful of medals for the action off India and Pakistan.”
    â€œWe heard rumors, Admiral. I was wondering, though. Usually—”
    â€œThe order comes directly from the commander in chief,” continued Balboa. “And as a matter of fact, he wants to meet with the personnel in question personally. As soon as possible.”
    â€œSir, I—”
    â€œYou have a problem with that, Samson?”
    â€œOf course not, Admiral. We’d be honored to have the President here. The security arrangements—”
    â€œMake them. There’ll be no press. The President happens to be on his way to the coast for some conference or other and wants to personally shake Colonel Bastian’s hand. It’s his idea, Terrill. He loves to press the flesh. You know that. I’m surprised he’s not more concerned about germs.”
    â€œWell yes, sir, of course.”
    â€œYou can expect him first thing in the morning. Throw out the red carpet.”
    â€œTomorrow?” asked Samson, but it was too late—Balboa had already hung up the phone.
    Northeastern Romania
2031
    T HE ATTACK ON THE GAS LINE WAS MADE SEVERAL HOURS earlier than General Locusta expected, and his first reactionwas genuine surprise and anger. Locusta was in the small house used as his army corps headquarters, having a late tea with some of his officers, when word came. The news was delivered by a Romanian army private who’d driven from the attack site five miles away; the man had sprinted from the parking area and barely caught his breath before delivering the news.
    â€œWhere?” demanded Locusta. “Have they been repulsed?”
    â€œThey are gone, General,” said the man. “We have had two casualties.”
    â€œTwo?”
    The private nodded.
    â€œHow many guerrillas were killed?”
    The man shook his head. While that was probably a good thing—had the men been killed, it was very possible their true identities would have been discovered—Locusta was furious. The Russian had promised him none of his men would be harmed. The general had practically gift wrapped the pipeline for him, and he responded by killing two of his men.
    That was what came from working with the Russians.
    â€œGeneral?” the private prodded him.
    â€œThe pipeline is broken?” asked Locusta.
    â€œThere was an explosion. Our captain was ordering the line closed as I left.”
    â€œI will inspect it myself.” Locusta turned to one of his captains. “Send a message to the capital immediately. Tell them to shut the entire line down. As a precaution. Add that the situation is under control for the moment and I am on my way personally to inspect the site.”
    Dreamland 1034
    â€œC OMFORTABLE , Z EN ?” ASKED A NNIE , TALKING TO HIM through the radio in the test