"Here we are. The team is still being assembled, but half of us are here. Once everyone arrives well have a briefing about what this is all about," his eyes flicked around to the guards as the jeep rolled to a stop.
"The rumors have it almost perfect. So much for need to know," and he winked before saluting.
"Colonel Maillaro, sir," the salute went towards an approaching man. His uniform was slightly rumpled. Jet black hair poked from under his beret. The legs had a purpose, each step meant something as he marched over towards them. Quickly she saluted as well.
"Captain Clark, at ease. You must be Sergeant Weaver. I have a cousin who had the benefit of being your pupil. When this operation began, you were on our interest list. And now you're here," he stuck out his hand.
"Sergeant Weaver," she offered hers in return.
"Colonel Maillaro. Good to meet you," his hands swallowed hers. The pressure was firm, but the giant palms had not crushed her tiny bones.
"How much do you know?"
"She has not been briefed yet," Captain Clark answered.
"Walk with me then. As you know, the enemy has neutralized our long-range weaponry," they turned towards a small building. It was a brick garage with an elevator. Once inside, they began to descend underground.
"Just so you know, this isn't a community like Boulder. The Denver Metro Area hasn't been family hospitable in almost thirty years. We don't have cushy skylights here. This is a strategic military location," Maillaro interrupted himself brusquely. The concrete walls and floors were bare. Doors didn't seem to be in evidence. And the lights flickered.
"Before I show you the command center, let me explain what we are doing here," and the Colonel had returned to his original train of thought.
***Next Tuesday, find out why we can't bomb the shit out of the aliens***
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