Good thing he announced his name and rank, I hadn’t bothered committing either to memory. The only thing I remembered about him was that he was the officer over Smithsonian Field, and that he had argued with me when I ordered him to dismantle the self-broadcasting fleet. I said, “Dunkirk, this is General Wayson Harris.” “Yes, sir,” he said. “I came out to inspect the airfield a few weeks ago.” “Yes, sir. I remember, sir.” “And I gave you orders to destroy the explorer fleet. Have you carried out my orders?” Bracing himself for the explosion that would surely follow, he took a deep breath, and said, “No, sir.” “No?” I asked. He must have misinterpreted my excitement as anger. He said, “No, sir. It is my understanding, sir, that you have been relieved of command. I cannot carry out those orders until they are confirmed by an officer on active duty.” I said, “Major, I have been reinstated.” Silence. I said, “Listen to me, and listen to me carefully.
