NanoSteps Brainstorming 2 - Stepping Out

[Bob Schroeck]

Trying to act nonchalant in the very alien uniform, Berger strolled back into Claude's barracks and plopped himself on the bunk in front of which he'd found him just a few minutes before.  He very carefully ignored the surprised and suspicious looks from the other guys in the unit, and concentrated on just filling the Claude-shaped hole he'd created for as long as it took.  No more than an afternoon, he was sure.  Then Claude would return to the Army and the Tribe would get on the road back to New York.  Or maybe L.A. -- Sheila'd been talking about hitting Hollywood.
Either way, no problem.

At least, it was no problem until a khaki-clad form appeared at the door to the barracks and the men around him leapt to sudden attention.  As Berger scrambled to his feet in clumsy imitation of the others he felt a sense of profound deja vu, which only grew stronger as the obvious officer-type strode scowling down the center of the building, studying each soldier he passed.  If Berger hadn't been worried about getting Claude busted, he would have been laughing his ass off -- this guy was doing exactly the same thing that Berger had only twenty minutes earlier to get Claude out of the base.

Including, he realized with a sudden chill of dread, stopping right in front of Claude's bunk.

The officer, whose boyish good looks were twisted by the scowl he wore, leaned forward until he was nose-to-nose with Berger and stared him in the eyes.  Not knowing what else to do, Berger maintained his half-assed imitation of an "attention" stance until the officer snarled, "You.  You're with me, soldier!" and turned on his heel.

Well, shit, Berger thought as he took off after the man.  They caught me.  Gotta convince'em it was all me, that I kidnapped  Claude.

The officer headed out into open at a double-time pace that forced Berger to half-run to keep up with him.  "Sir?  Um, sir?" 

The other man ignored him, keeping up the pace and leading him around to a sheltered area between several of the barracks buildings, where a number of covered wooden bins held god-knows-what.  Then he turned around and fixed Berger with a stern glare.  "Are you an asshole, son?" he growled.

Berger, still catching up, almost stumbled at that.  The fuck?  I asked Claude that same question right before I...  Suspicion dawned in his mind.  "Sir, no sir!" he replied just as Claude had.

"Good," said the officer, who had begun digging around in a pocket, in much milder tones.  "That makes two of us."  As Berger blinked at him, he pulled out something that looked like a wallet, only thinner, and then flipped it open.  To his amazement, a three-dimensional image of the officer appeared, floating in the air and slowly spinning.  A wall of text similarly hung in the air below and in front of it.  "Mr. Berger," he went on, "My name is Colonel Douglas Q. Sangnoir.  In about fifteen minutes, Mr. Bukowski's platoon will be deployed to Vietnam.  We need to get you out of here and him back in before then, or there will be ten kinds of hell to pay."

Berger narrowed his eyes.  "You're not Army, man."

A corner of Sangnoir's mouth quirked suddenly, an almost-smile that was gone as quickly as it had come.  "Correct, and you're lucky I'm not.  You could've ended up shot."  He turned around, opened one of the bins, and rummaged around in it, coming up with of all things a futuristic-looking motorcycle helmet.  "Which is never fun.  Trust me," he added, pulling it on and reaching under the chin to fasten something.

"So how're we going to get me out and him in so fast, man?"  Berger demanded.  "It's fifteen minutes just to the gate from here."

Behind the black goggles that seemed to be part of the helmet, Sangnoir smirked at him.  "This is the Age of Aquarius, soldier. All things are possible to the enlightened."  He grabbed hold of Berger's shoulder.  "Hold on."

Spoiler

-- Hair (Motion picture)

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.