allies against our enemies.”
“Maybe. I don’t make policy, but I’m sure willing to carry the word back
to the people who do.”
“We must get you back to your World, then.”
“You mean you can get me home?”
“The Mighty at the Capital certainly can. The Sparrow knows how.”
“But first we’ve got to get to your Capital. Are they going to come
looking for you?”
Karin shrugged. “Probably. But they dare not search too long or too hard.
Magical methods work poorly here and we are too close to our enemies’ hold
to risk many riders and dragons.”
“So they aren’t likely to find us.”
“No, but I do not think that will matter. Once Stigi’s wing is healed, he
will be able to carry us back to my people.”
Gilligan looked over at the snoring dragon. “You mean that thing can
really get us out of here?”
“In easy stages, of course. Stigi can carry two for a ways and there are
many reefs and islands where we can rest.”
“That’s something to look forward to, anyway.”
“Meanwhile,” Karin said, getting up. “It is late and morning comes early.
Let us to bed.”
Mick Gilligan fell asleep that night and dreamed about flying and girls
with blonde hair and freckles.
Twenty-eight: IMAGE ENHANCEMENT
Quite a collection of brass, Willie Sherman thought to herself. It wasn’t
the biggest group she’d ever worked with and it wasn’t the highest
ranking, but it was still two generals, a gaggle of colonels of both types
and a brother who was obviously some kind of high-up spook. Pretty
impressive.
Not that Master Sergeant Wiletta Sherman was impressed. After being in for
eighteen years there wasn’t a lot left that could impress her.
Less than twenty-four hours ago she had been at Edwards AFB in the
California desert helping to test a new filmless imaging system. She had
been ordered to Alaska so quickly she’d just had time to throw a winter
uniform into a suitcase and grab a few toiletries.
Unfortunately whoever was responsible for this building had never heard of
the DOD energy conservation guidelines. It had to be eighty-five degrees
and she was already sweating in her heavy blue wool uniform.
If it weren’t for all the brass she would have taken her jacket off. But
no one else had, so she just sweated.
“Everybody here?” asked the ranking two-star. “Okay, pull it up and let’s
see what we got.”
Willie hit a couple of keys to call up the file on the screen. Before she
got here someone had already gone through the tape, picked out the best
images and digitized them. So all she had to do was the processing.
The workstation she was using wasn’t much bigger than a personal computer
tied to a compact refrigerator, but it had cost the government nearly a
million dollars. She didn’t know how many millions had gone into the
software, but it obviously hadn’t been cheap. For Willie, who had started
her career analyzing photographs of North Vietnam with a binocular
microscope, it was a lot more impressive than her audience.
After a couple of seconds the image flashed on the screen. Willie looked
at it and her eyes went wide. Some asshole was playing tricks, in front of
the goddamn generals, no less!
The picture was obviously taken at long range but it was clear enough.
Against a background of fleecy gray clouds a dragon sailed along with its
wings extended. There was a rider on its back just forward of the wings.
Beautiful job, though. There was no sign of a matte line or the kinds of
shadow inconsistencies that usually trip up faked photographs-not that
that was going to save the poor bastard who was responsible.
Willie braced for the inevitable explosion. It didn’t come. All the
generals and colonels were staring at the picture as if it made sense.
Some of them looked sideways at each other, as if they wanted to say
something, but none of them opened their mouths.
“Hmm, ah yes,” the major general said. “You’re sure this is, ah, correct?”
“I unloaded the tape and digitized the image myself,” said the colonel in