Zaragoza wasn’t the slam dunk I was hoping for. We had several issues getting the system to communicate with the server before we found the problem. Even then, we weren’t able to bring all the units up, and found another issue with the database. For some reason the Zaragoza records were firewalled, and it took a bit of work to get the access tunnelled. It was late by the time we were finally up and running, but managed to get the demo up before we’d lost any credibility.
Pablo was great in support, and Chris managed to keep the brass from breathing down our necks. My favorite Major kept her distance, watching all, but staying out of it. When the demo was fully functional and running with access to all necessary data, I stepped back and let Pablo drive again.
He was getting good at it, and asked around for suggestions, providing the required results almost instantaneously. I was finally able to slide out of the limelight, and hunt down a coke.
Major Ana Isabel de Borbon is a demon. She sees all, knows all. And in this case anticipated all. While I was asking a trembling non-com where the soft drinks were, she appeared at my side, a 16 oz ice cold bottle in her hand. She gave me the first smile of the day.
“I didn’t know if you were going to pull it off,” she said. “It looked close there.”
“A lot closer than I had hoped for,” I admitted.
“But once more, you’re the conquering hero, and still you let Pablo get all the praise.”
“I’m happy enough to know I’m doing a good job. And he’s been a great help. If I can help him a little, great. I hope he comes out of this smelling like a rose.”
She casually reached out and brushed my arm, giving me goose bumps. She look still and hard today, not the sensuous creature in my room the night before. Still, I knew well what was hidden, just barely out of sight.
“Noblesse Oblige,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“Of course you put on a show for the brass, they pay the bills and make sure the right approvals go through. Your boss understands the politics well, doing her best to keep the General happy, very happy. And the Colonel as well. But you make those beneath you look good, and feel good, even though it gains you nothing. You are above that.”
“Don’t go spreading rumors like that,” I teased. “I’m not all sugar and spice you know.”
“Sugar and spice?” she asked.
“And everything nice – a children’s poem.”
She leaned in to whisper in my ear, and my hopes shot sky high. “Looks like you may have to bail Pablo out, I think he’s having some difficulty.”
I looked up to see the Captain switching back and forth between two screens, and I was fairly certain I knew what was up. I moved quickly back to his side, and reminded him of the basic system configuration. In the settings, he hadn’t selected the ‘clear on exit’ check box.
With a quick review of the settings, and two quick changes, he was back in the saddle again, his momentary nervousness in check.
“Sorry about that. My fault. I changed the settings during testing. After initial installation, they’ll be at the correct configuration.”
Once more I stepped back. But not too far in case of anymore gotchas.
That about settled it, and after just a few more minutes, we were shutting down the system, and being shuffled off to another night of celebration in the ancient and fascinating city of Zaragoza.
There was a short break while the party was assembled, rides were found, and a few additional lovely escorts were requisitioned for our outing. Ana Isabel returned after a short hiatus, wearing a simple, yet striking little black dress that once again had me staring. She certainly cleaned up nicely. I understood the purpose of the large tote bag she’d brought on our short trip.
The locals were very proud of their history, and the history of northern Spain where hundreds of years of battle kept the moors from crossing the Pyrenees. The landscape was dotted with castles and fortified churches, and our little tour began downtown at the Plaza of Pilar, where ancient Roman ruins from 20BC stood alongside a Moorish tower and a huge Spanish basilica, a pilgrimage sight for the miracles performed by the Virgin Mary. It was a strange blend of old and new, and utterly fascinating.
We were given a tour of the Basilica by the proud locals, viewing the 15th century Sagrado Imagen, and La Columna, the column where Mary appeared to the Apostle St. James. The same column whose holy properties protected the Church throughout the years, particularly from the bombings during the Spanish Civil War. We were directed to look at the frescoes painted by Goya. The busboy from ‘El Botin’ had done well for himself.
My guide was a pretty little Lieutenant named Pilar. The same name as the Church.
“Pilar. That’s a pretty name,” I told her, still looking about for the Major.
She laughed. “In the North, every other girl is named Pilar, it seems. Here it is as common as John or Robert, in your country.”
“Ah, but I am quite certain not every Pilar is as lovely or as kind a host as you are,” I told her in my rusty Spanish.
Our tour took us down a series of side streets, where we stopped for the requisite tapas, at a few different locales. I was attended to nicely by our hosts. When they weren’t filling me in on their local history, they were querying me about the D. C. area, and even an occasional discussion of the new system. Pilar stuck to me like glue, and my partner in crime, Chris, was never lacking for attention, her favorite Colonel never far from her side. The Major was always in the crowd, often nearby, but somehow always a short distance away. My buddy Pablo was often by my side, but he was enjoying the outing as well, and using the opportunity for some face time with the big brass, and to chat up a cute local who’d attached herself to him.
By the time we reached our final destination, I was glad the walking was over. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for the ladies in their high heels. La Bastilla restaurant was on the river, across from three bridges that joined northern Zaragoza, all residential neighborhoods I was assured, from the historic southern side of the city.
No show for us, just a gastronomic orgy of tastes, starting with what I was told was the best ham in Spain, although Pablo, once again seated nearby, told me it was only the second best. It was sliced paper-thin and melted in your mouth. As the first entry, it was a great start. My only disappointment was that Ana Isabel was separated from me, sitting opposite and at an angle. Beside her was another General, who seemed intent on talking to her, although far less ‘friendly’ than most at the table. He’d occasional speak across the table to me, and we would discuss differences in programs and bases I’d visited. The conversations would never get very far before Ana Isabel would gently recapture his attention.