The rest of that first week, Hal supervised the trainees in their training during the day, and regularly dosed himself with antacid at night, Raven and Wordy both needing to massage the tension out of his muscles so he could sleep without resorting to the bottle of whiskey. He did can the four bad ones on Friday afternoon, taking the time to make sure he wrote up his justifications to the Colonel. Whatever he wrote, it did fly. The Colonel did not bitch him out for doing so.
Hal did come up with a team-building measure. He worked on it from Tuesday through Thursday, calling in a few markers to get tee-shirts printed up in time for Friday afternoon muster. Announcing to his Flight that they were now the Air Chess Flight, he passed out the shirts.
The Captains were named the white, gray and scarlet bishops, The Lieutenants king’s or queen’s rooks, the Sergeants (squadron second-in-command) kings or queen’s knights, and the rest of the troops either king’s or queen’s pawns, depending on squadron, odd numbered squadrons designated for kings, even numbered squadrons queens. Hal himself was named Rainbow King.
He then gave the entire Flight a pep talk, explaining how they were all on the same team, and the best way to improve is to learn how to work together to win the game. He also gave them their new Flight rallying cry, which all the flight members joined in enthusiastically.
“How do chess players declare victory?” Hal shouted.
“CHECKMATE!” was the return shout before they broke up for the night, except the duty squadrons. Weekends, only the duty squadrons had to report on their assigned days, the off-duty members released from training, but told to stay alert for call up. “Mother Nature cares not for weekends!” Hal reminded them all before dismissal.
Saturday, Hal was Command Duty Officer, a chore rotated among all six Majors. All that day, it felt like rain. Mid-afternoon, he took a report from Kilo Squadron over in Kingman that they were getting storm activity, heading a little west of north. Hal dispatched a squadron from Flight Four, and one of his training squadrons, to investigate the activity, bringing the rest of the duty squadrons to ready-five alert status, all per Regulations. Within the hour, he got his first reports.
“Four-Bravo to base.” came the call over the radio.
“Four-Bravo, this is Six-Alpha. Go ahead.” Hal replied.
“Six-Alpha, the storms appear to be on a track to pass east of the city, over Lake Mead, maximum intensity Force Five. Confirm a signal ten.”
“Okay, Four-Bravo. This will be a good time to get some practice in for the rookies. Coordinate with Two Six Lima and show the rooks what to do.”
“Four-Bravo, roger that.”
“Two-Six-Lima copy.” The Lieutenant for Squadron Two-Six, Orion Twister, reported.
“One-Four-Lima, copy that.” said Squadron One-Four’s lieutenant.
“Six-Alpha ten-ten.” Hal said, tuning in the radios for the affected squadrons. After that chore was accomplished, he had one more to do. Picking up the phone, he called the Colonel.
When the other end picked up, Hal was very quick to say, “Whiskey-One, this is Six-Alpha. Storm report. Storms expected to pass over Lake Mead, force Five on the scale. Four-Bravo is in charge, with squadrons One-Four and Two-Six on scene. Will report if anything untoward happens.”
There was a pause of about five seconds before the Colonel responded. “Six-Alpha, that was very well done. Goes to show even you can surprise me at times. I’ll be monitoring Four-Bravo’s frequency, but you’re the pony in charge, Sleet.”
“All I can do is all I will do, and all I will do is the best I can do, Colonel.” Hal said, more than a little surprised by the Colonel’s praise.
“Keep on doing that, Sleet. Whiskey-One out.” Stormcloud said before hanging up.
Stormcloud quickly dialed up Turbulent Air, letting his aide know about his exchange with Sleet.
“Why in hell are you praising him like that over a routine alert, Colonel?” the Major asked.
“Because if I keep telling him he’s doing things properly, by the book, which he IS doing, then he will be less inclined to get under our feathers when time comes to strike, right?” the Colonel growled. “If he’s tending to his own business, he won’t notice ours.”
“Put it that way, I see your point. Seems like he’s working out.”
“If he keeps out of our way, I’ll praise him to the skies. I better get back to business.” the colonel said before hanging up.
The storms were tracked by the two squadrons until they were past Hoover Dam before Four-Bravo called in a signal eleven, meaning the threat had ended, the two squadrons getting some badly-needed practice in before returning to base. When Four-Bravo called in the signal eleven, Hal had the rest of the duty squadrons stand down. Fortunately, there were no other weather calls that night. Even though the monsoon had got off to an early start, it also was rather fitful. Hal knew the worst was yet to come. It was only mid-June. July and August were the worst.
One thing that Hal did NOT expect come Monday morning was for his chess-naming plan for his Flight to really catch on. After morning muster, in the officer’s conference, Major Sleet was bombarded by questions by the other Majors, and the Colonel, just how he set everything up. By lunchtime, each Flight had set up their own ‘chessboards’ and colors. Colonel Stormcloud was not given a specific piece to represent. His shirt was going to have a chessboard in black and brown on the front, and chose the call sign ‘Chessmaster One’.
Here’s how it broke down:
Flight One: The Black King, commanding Black and Silver teams.
Flight Two: The Red Queen, commanding Red and Pink teams.
Flight Three: The Blue Queen, commanding Blue and Teal teams.
Flight Four: The Gold King, commanding Gold and Bronze teams.
Flight Five: The Green King, commanding Lime and Forest teams.
Flight Six: The Rainbow King, commanding White, Gray and Scarlet teams.
Support Division: The Brown King, commanding Tan, Ocher, Coffee and Chocolate teams.
The Colonel, as Chessmaster One, announced the new informal naming schemes at evening muster, giving the plan his full endorsement, with shirts arriving for everyone by Thursday. He also announced the formation of a game chart between members of the different flights, a pony from one team playing a pony from another color a game of chess. The team with the most wins on Friday will win something from the NAS, to be determined later.
Chessmaster One did stress that the chess games were not mandatory, knowing that not everyone could play the game well. He did suggest that those who could not play well cheer on those who can, because it was the winning color group (two squadrons) who would get the weekly prizes, NOT the winning Flight. Kings and Queens were forbidden to play, because they led more than one color. Hal welcomed that, he just dreamed up the scheme because everyone, including him, knew the terminology, NOT because he was an expert player. How he got checkmated in four moves playing a game with a friend years ago, he could never figure out, nor was he about to tell anyone about it, either.
Team morale went up faster than Major Sleet’s popularity, everyone getting into the chess call signs with vigor. Chessmaster One did declare that in official business and communications, everyone was to use the official call signs, but when not actually wrangling weather, he officially would turn a blind ear to the practice.
Hal came home one evening to find his housemate, Wordsmythe, waiting for him with a hot dinner, having taken on more of the cooking chores as Raven’s pregnancy progressed. That was good for the group, because Hal could make sandwiches on a good day, and burn water on a bad day. “I got something you should listen to, Chuck.”
Hal’s ears twitched at that. Wordy seldom used the old names, even in private. “What’s going on, Carl?” he asked.
“You know I have been dating the Energy Secretary’s chief aide for a while now.” Carl said as he served up a big portion of a noodle, cheese and pinto bean casserole.
“Since last December, if I remember right.” Hal said after a bite.
“You know Summer Sun has an eidetic memory.”
“I haven’t forgotten that, Carl.”
The red and orange earth pony grimaced some at Hal’s pun slinging. Even after a friendship that has lasted almost two decades, he could still wince at them. “Summer Sun overheard Cornflower on the phone this afternoon. She mentioned something about a Project Blue Bolt, whatever that is, and that once the Project was completed, whoever was on the phone will see stars.”
“You felt that I should hear this?” Hal asked.
“Yes, seeing that she was talking to your boss and best buddy, Colonel Hard Ass.”
Hal’s ears went straight up. “Is that a fact? Why would Hard Ass be talking with the Energy Secretary? The NAS doesn’t interface much with the Energy Department, unless a wind farm needs maintenance.”
“Damned if she or I know, Chuck.” Carl said, sitting down at the table with a good plateful of casserole. “Cornflower has only been back for a month or so, after having a kid.”
That caught Hal’s attention some, but he was hungry and quite tired, having led flight drills and some weather training that day, training he needed as much as his Flight did. Learning how to handle the command multi-channel portable radios was indeed a bit of a challenge, learning how to listen to multiple channels and controlling which one to talk on is a bit more of a challenge. “Okay, Carl, keep me informed if you hear anything more about this Project Blue Bolt, okay?” Hal told his friend. “Where’s Birdie? Sleeping?”
“No, out having some girl time with Green Mane. Green dropped by an hour ago, and offered to take Raven to The Glass Eye for some mocktails and talk.”
Hal grimaced some. Going out to bars, when he was not performing, was not high on his list of Favorite Things to Do, because if there was one thing that really pissed him off, that one thing was inebriation in others in his presence. He still considered himself a recovering alcoholic after three decades of sobriety, three millennia plus in the time stream, and changing into a pony. Yes, he did enjoy beer and occasional hard stuff, for relaxation, but he NEVER let himself go beyond a slight buzz. “At least she’s in good hooves with Green Mane.” he muttered quietly. Green Mane is a tan unicorn, a full MD, and is head of the trauma department at Vegas Central Hospital. The two ladies met shortly after Raven and friends Returned, when Raven was a student at the Brotherhood of Unicorns Magic Academy (BUMA, widely called ‘bummer’) and Green Mane an instructor, and have remained fast friends since.
“Relax, Hal. Raven’s doing fine, and she deserves some time out. You have a big job to do. You know that, I know that, and she knows that. Besides, you need some sleep. Finish eating, take a nap, then it hot tub and massage time for you. Got it?” Wordsmythe suggested.
Hal was caught at a vulnerable time. Usually he would protest, but not today. “Got it, Carl.”
The next day, at lunchtime, three ponies met in the Energy Secretary’s office. Cornflower, a burly bluish earth pony with a pink mane and yellow tail, was behind her desk. With her were her allies in Project Blue Bolt, the Media Director Test Pattern, a vivid neon greenish-yellow in color with black mane and tail and a brilliant orange horn, and the Urban Development Coordinator Precise Measurements, a dirty white unicorn with a perpetual scowl on his face. All had their reasons to take part in the Project.
“Okay, I spoke with Colonel Stormcloud yesterday. He says all the pieces are in place, we just need to await the proper storm. We all need to have our alternate comm links in place before then, so when the radios go out, we can strike fast.
“We’ll need to get to the Mayor and encourage him to get Blue Blizzard to step down because he cannot handle the crisis, but our candidate can,” she told her co-conspirators, Blue Blizzard being the commanding officer of the Nevada Aeronautical Survey, in charge of the airspace and weather control for the Las Vegas area.
“We can count on Stormcloud to do his job. I know he’s competent. He helped teach me discipline while in school, back when he first Returned.” Test Pattern said.
“What about the rest of your department? Will they be able to stand to at an hour’s notice?” Cornflower shot back.
“I’ll be ready, and so will they. The instant lightning strikes the Tower, I’ll take it off line and have backups in place. Will you cut power to the Tower?” Test Pattern retorted.
“Within seconds. I can keep it off for as long as necessary, claiming a surge knocked out feeder lines.” Cornflower said before looking at the other two conspirators.
“Once I get the word, I can have some of my ponies out blocking key points within an hour.” Precise Measurements said calmly. “We just need to sow confusion long enough to make Blue Blizzard look completely incompetent. Bastard’s past ninety already, and holds power real tight. He’ll look so bad as a weather commander, not only the Mayor and the entire city council, but the authorities in Salt Lick will demand his removal,” referring to the Colorado Territories capitol, on the former location of Salt Lake City. Las Vegas is part of the Colorado Territories, which covers most of the former states of Utah and Nevada, Colorado, New Mexico and Wyoming west of the Continental Divide, and the northern part of Arizona, in the mountains, leaving the desert floor there to the Sonoran Territories to the south.
“I’ll have the Review-Journal start turning out articles about Blue Blizzard’s advancing age, making him look as foolish as I can, as well as a newsreel story or two, and suggesting to the talk hosts on Radio News and Radio Talk to look into Blue Blizzard as well,” Test Pattern said, leaning over the desk.
“So, it’s agreed then. Project Blue Bolt is a go.” Cornflower declared. “Our candidate for the General’s position in the NAS is so much better for the job.”
Outside the office, at her own desk, Summer Sun heard the declaration, if little else. She made a mental note to make sure she told Wordsmythe about it on their next date. She made it a point to refer anything she heard about this Project Blue Bolt to Wordsmythe, whom she knew she could trust. After all, a girl has to talk to SOMEPONY with good gossip, right?