Chapter 26

“N-n-no sir,” said a suddenly unnerved Dunsmore. He has flown with the admiral a few times, but outside of orders given to him, Admiral Scarlett never spoke to him.

“Would you like to see Perseverance Spaceman Dunsmore?”

“Uh ... uh...”

“The correct answer is, ‘gee, I’d love to Admiral!’”

“Uh, gee, I’d love to Admiral,” said the terrified spaceman.

“There you go, I knew you were a smart lad!” suddenly the RF-8 fell from its high position over the Amazonis Planitia and plunged toward the Martian surface. It leveled out just a few meters above the surface and roared over the barren plain until they passed under an F-733 that had just run an attack on a drone, and they pulled up right under the nose of the fighter, scaring the hell out of the crew.

“Admiral, would ya mind not fuckin’ with my trainees every chance you get?” called Commander Darwin Hammersmith on the observing FB-719.

“Was that your trainee? Sorry Darwin,” said Alan, trying to keep from laughing. He leveled off and headed southeast and passed over Jezero Lake and followed the tube train to Perseverance. The huge plastic city reared its head in front of them. “Perseverance, this is Berserker 1,” called Alan over the radio. “Requesting straight in approach to pad Romeo Alpha Yankee.”

“Roger Berserker 1. Approach on current heading, you are cleared for Presidential landing pad,” said Perseverance control.

“Presidential landing pad?” asked Spacemen Dunsmore.

“I have a handicapped parking permit,” said Alan as he approached the sprawling city. The presidential landing pad was just the front row at a very large landing pad. He settled down where a ground handler directed him to land. Alan shut down the two large engines and the tight little canopies opened, allowing Alan and Bran Dunsmore to ease out of the tight little recon ship. “Lunch is this way,” said Alan, and he led Spacemen Dunsmore to the entry control.

“You look nervous,” said Alan as they entered the city and took off their helmets.

“It’s a rank thing sir, walking around with a two star admiral!”

“Don’t worry about it, we go to life support and get a flight suit with a tiny name tag, and we’ll look like any other person wandering around in Perseverance. Eris Carmine-Rodriguez said flight suits are all the rage now.”

They entered Life Support like they would on any ship, station, or space flight base and normally you hand them your environment suit and helmet for cleaning and repair, and they hand you a zip-up flight suit and a pair of boots. Bran Dunsmore stripped down to his underwear and handed his suit to the Life Support technician who asked, “What is your shoe size.”

“Nine.” The technician handed Bran a pair of oxblood low quarter shoes of very high quality and a uniform bag on a hanger. “What the hell?” he muttered, and he opened the uniform bag. It was a dress uniform tailored similar to the Space Force uniform, but it was in the deep ruby red of the Martian Self Defense Force. Dark red trousers, light red, almost pink shirt, dark red jacket with gold badges of rank and all appropriate ribbons that he has earned along with a pair of flight crew wings, a deep oxblood colored belt and a pair of oxblood low quarter shoes polished to a mirror finish. “What is all this?” Bran asked.

“You’re having lunch with the President. You can’t go in there in your skivvies wearing a Blind Melon Chitlin T-Shirt.”

Bran tugged on his uniform. It looked sharp, but he was going to stick out like a sore thumb. “I don’t know...”

“You ready Bran?” asked Alan as he entered the room wearing the same uniform but with all his medals and ribbons. He had a gold braided rope that he affixed on Bran’s left shoulder, which circled his arm.

“What’s that?” asked a nervous Spaceman Dunsmore.

“You’re my aide,” said Alan as he buttoned the rope under his epaulets. “You need to look the part.”