The Vaults of Heaven (AU)

[jemhouston]

I'm really hoping Sophie still kicks butt at DefCon.

I think Senator Helms is one walking into a trap that he himself set.

[Wolfman]

So Sophie does recruit Josh, and then get convinced to move to Idaho.

[Poohbah]

05 July 1992
Philadelphia, PA

Josh, Roberta, and Helen checked into the Doubletree Hilton they'd stayed in. Helen chuckled lightly when she saw the room number.

In the room, as he was hanging up his uniforms, Josh asked, "What's so funny about the room?"

"You don't remember?"

Josh shook his head.

Roberta smiled. "Same room Helen and I stayed in."

Josh sighed. "I should've remembered."

Roberta chuckled lightly. "No worries."

Helen sighed. "I remember talking with her about you before the war. She didn't quite understand you. I had to explain to her that you were just being the kind of man your parents raised you to be--good and true, understanding all of your obligations in life and meeting them as fully as possible."

She looked out the window into the early evening. "I told her she needed to just . . . let go, to take you into her bed."

Josh walked over to the window and smiled at Helen. "Funny how that ended up working out."

Helen laughed gaily, startling Josh.

"What?"

"Josh, I told her that night that part of me wanted to watch you screw her brains out, part of me wanted to join in--you may not have quite understood it back then, but I knew you had it in you to be amazingly fun in bed--and that the part I pretended to not have wanted to be a sister wife to her, barefoot and preggers."

"Wait, this was your idea? I thought it was Jeanna's."

"I had it first, Jeanna said it out loud to all four of us first." Her smile grew seductive. "Great minds think alike, darling. And it's worked out." She sighed. "And now we get to be a political piñata."

Josh took her into his arms. "Don't worry, darling. I won't let anyone hurt you, or Roberta, or Jeanna, or Debs, or Kathy, or Zack."

"I know, Josh. I know. But remember, none of us are going to let you hurt yourself just to protect us."

Roberta pressed in behind Josh. "No, we aren't. I'm chasing down Senator Morgan tomorrow to clue him in."

* * *

06 July 1992
HQ, National Guard Bureau
Philadelphia, PA

Major Helen Mantell marched into the office of General Miguel Peralta and saluted.

"Major Mantell reporting as ordered, sir."

Peralta returned the salute and said, "Please take a seat, Major."

Once they were seated, he asked, "Coffee?"

"No thank, you, sir."

Peralta nodded. "All right, you're in a bit of a controversy. Without getting too personal, why did you marry four people?"

Helen remembered that conversation with Roberta before being awarded the Medal.

"Sir . . . we'd all been through Hell in various ways. Me, outside Hutchinson . . . I was about to order one last banzai charge for America. Jeanna . . . well, she was at Phase Line PATRIOT, delivering ammo to 2nd Brigade, 63rd Infantry Division. She had to shoot a few deserters from when 1st Brigade broke and ran. They're still recovering about one rusted-out M16 a week along the I-25 corridor. And you have to understand . . . Josh and Roberta both graduated from Patrick Henry High School in San Diego. Those names on the Memorial Cenotaph are of people they knew.

"Debs got awakened on Day One at McConnell by a dozen mortar rounds landing in her dormitory parking lot, and she had to lead airmen through heavy fire to the base armory to draw their weapons. She doesn't talk about it much. Roberta is an architect, with a love for the craft and its history. She sometimes had to use her skills to mutilate historic American buildings, buildings that she loves. Every breach or loophole . . . it was like asking her which of her grandfather's limbs she wanted to break.

"Josh fought damn near two years straight from Day One to Lubbock International. He had to become a legend at Lubbock--and then again in Philadelphia. Over by the Ritz-Carlton, I watched him take the fight to enemies domestic, while my wife was cutting det cord with no idea how much time was left on the bomb timer. And then Josh lost the woman he would've married. We decided to be there for him, to keep him from eating a bullet in his grief--and we all found each other's company congenial for the long haul. We're happy now. That said . . . I wouldn't recommend this particular arrangement for anyone except us, sir."

Peralta nodded. "I see."

* * *

"Ma'am, Senator Morgan will see you now."

Roberta stood up and followed the Chief of Staff into Morgan's office.

Porter Morgan came around his desk and said, "It's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Mantell."

"Thank you for seeing me, Senator."

Morgan showed Roberta to a seat, then took the other seat in front of his desk.

"For the record, I know what Senator Helms is trying to do. He's shoring up the social conservative front in North Carolina and trying to get on the record all possible objections to retaining women in combat roles."

"And dragging my family through the muck is a side effect."

"Yes, it is, unfortunately."

"Well, he's off of the Christmas card list."

They shared a chuckle.

Moragn was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Mrs. Mantell, were you raised in the Latter-Day Saints?"

"No, I was raised in Calvary Chapel. Josh was raised Catholic, Helen was raised Methodist, Debs was Southern Baptist, and Jeanna was raised high church Episcopalian. Now . . . well, none of us are religious. That said, we will be teaching our children about right and wrong from a generally Christian perspective."

Morgan nodded. "I see. I don't want to get too nosy . . . but how did this come to pass?"

Roberta chuckled. "Senator . . . all four of us, for various reasons . . . well, we all love him. He and I had been a couple when he was stationed in Orange County, until I threw it away the night before the war. He had orders to Japan, and I wasn't happy. Then I married Helen . . . it turned out he'd found someone as well. And then she got murdered by RamDyne."

Morgan's face took on a shocked expression. "Oh."

"And all four of us knew him, and after the whole RamDyne mess got cleaned up, we took it on ourselves to keep an eye on him, to help him grieve, to be there for him. And over time, we all found each other's company agreeable, and we all wanted Josh to father--and to be a father to--our children. We kept it unofficial until that ad valorem session produced the marital reform bill."

"So this isn't exploitative in any way."

"No, it isn't. He's not forming a religious cult. We're all well above the age of consent. We've forsaken all others. Josh is a wonderful father, and we all love all of our kids, not just our own. We all help each other out, and there's a lot of love between all of us."

* * *

As soon as Josh's foot crossed the threshold of the Chief of Staff's office, Cunningham saluted. Josh marched up to the desk and saluted,

"Sir, Chief Warrant Officer Mantell reports!"

Cunningham cut his salute, and Josh did likewise.

"At ease, have a seat, Chief."

Josh sat down.

Cunningham said, "I believe you said something about making Sherman's March to the Sea look like a faculty spat."

"I may have been somewhat intemperate in my remarks, sir."

Cunningham chuckled. "Somewhat intemperate. I like that. So, you're married to four other women, two of whom have likewise been awarded the Medal . . . and Senator Helms decided to pick a fight with you."

Josh said nothing.

"Why do you think he came after you, in particular?"

"It has a chance of selling back home, sir. The story writes itself: five libertines, one serving in the Idaho National Guard--but she's a soak-off attack, sir--"

"Soak-off attack?"

"A term from board wargaming, sir. He's attacking partly to divert my attention, partly to obscure his real objective."

Cunningham nodded. "I see. What do you think his real objective is?"

"He's going to point at me--exploiting these poor, helpless women--and ask why in the hell the Air Force is keeping me in an assignment that requires a Top Secret SCI clearance just to walk into the schoolhouse, given my perverse inclinations. He's going to try suggesting that I'm a cult leader or a Latter-Day Saint fundamentalist. But I'm not the target, sir. I'm just a means of access."

Cunningham's left eyebrow rose. "Fascinating. So who--or what--is his prime target?"

"Sir, he's trying to force reinstatement of the combat exclusion law."

Cunningham nodded. "Your take on this?"

"Fool's errand, sir. Even if the politics did allow for it, demographics won't."

Cunningham's eyebrow shot up again. "Expound."

"Sir, your pool of 18-year-olds ready to serve today is absolutely capped by the number of babies that were born in 1974. And there weren't that many of those. The 1974 birth rate was barely at replacement levels--it actually dropped below that until 1982 or so." Mantell paused, then said, "If we want to field a military like what America is going to need for the foreseeable future, we're going to need men and women in combat arms."

Cunningham blinked once, then said, "Chief, you just summarized a 60-slide presentation we got last month in three sentences. Not bad. So, let's go over your planned testimony."

* * *

07 July 1992
Senate Armed Services Committee Hearing Room
Philadelphia, PA

Senator Jesse Helms rapped his gavel twice, then said, "This hearing of the Personnel Subcommittee of the Senate Armed Services Committee is called to order.

"I have called this meeting to address concerns regarding behavior of various personnel during and after the war, and whether present personnel policies implemented during the war should be continued in whole, in part, or returned to peacetime standards. My first witness is Major Frank Carson, United States Air Force."

Carson was attired in Combo One, and he stood confidently at the witness table as he was sworn in.

"Major Carson, please summarize your experiences in this regard."

"Senator Helms, Air Force regulations, particularly those regulations regarding overly close and familiar relationships between seniors and subordinates were routinely disregarded at the squadron level. Further, Numbered Air Force Commanders saw fit to either ignore or tacitly approve of this lawlessness . . . "

" . . . the introduction of women as combat aircrew, in my opinion, caused a significant decline in the overall professional decorum and integrity of air combat units . . . "

" . . . I was routinely cut out of the loop when personnel in my department requested entry into the Airman to Pilot Program, refusing to give me an opportunity to provide input as to their suitability or fitness for such an assignment . . . "

* * *

Senator John Glenn said, "Major Carson, I'm not going to question the private lives of fighter pilots on front-line duty. 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow they may not separate us from the rest of the aircraft.' They got the job done, I'm not going to question their relationship."

* * *

"The Chair calls Major Matthew Wiser, United States Air Force."

* * *

Helms asked, "Major Wiser, as Major Carson's second commanding wartime officer, I'm hoping you can provide information about the concerns he raised."

"Guru" Wiser leaned into the microphone.

"Senator, he simply didn't know what parts of the book to keep and what to throw away. Further, he openly despised any officer not an Academy Grad--or worse, an Academy Grad who was one of the boys or girls after hours. He consistently treated NCOs and non-rated enlisted as if he was the Lord of the Manor and they were serfs. The British--who have very real, meaningful class distinctions--don't put up with that mindset, and there's no way Americans ever will. That sort of thing doesn't go over well in America--it is utterly corrosive to trust, and undermines morale."

"So you're saying that he was not behaving appropriately as an officer in the American military?"

"In multiple ways, sir. In terms of tactical proficiency, he wasn't fit to command anything higher than a two-plane element--and that's a serious problem for a field grade officer. He started the war as a flight leader, in charge of four aircraft--and proceeded to have six of his wingmen shot down, due to deficiencies in his situational awareness and tactical . As a Major, not only should he have been an effective flight leader--leading both his four-ship flight and another one--he should have been planning missions at the squadron level, seeking to coordinate different weapons loadouts to achieve the desired effects on the target."

"But he was a major--indeed, he was apparently somewhat senior to you."

"Sir, I'm not as rank as he is."

The room broke up in laughter.

"Major Wiser, doesn't this demonstrate a hostility towards Academy Graduates on your part?"

Wiser looked across the witness table to his wife, Lisa "Goalie" Eichorn, who wore a "WTF?" expression.

"Senator, If I was hostile towards Academy Grads, I wouldn't have married one."

The room broke up again, and Wiser noted that Helms was stifling an urge to join in.

* * *

"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Utah."

"Major Wiser, Major Carson mentioned being cut out of the loop when personnel in his department submitted officer candidate school packages, and I'm wondering if you could give us any insight on that."

"Yes, sir. First, he just did not care for female aircrew at all. He just could not get it that there were women who flew an F-4 a LOT better than he could ever think of doing. Not to mention getting an Article 15 for some remarks about a female pilot who was described by two squadron COs and three visiting General Officers as the best stick in the squadron. However, what prompted that particular decision was learning--some time after the fact, unfortunately--that he had demanded a quid pro quo with a female airman who wanted into the Airman to Pilot Program. I was unable to get him relieved of duty for that--too much time had elapsed--but I could ensure that anyone else looking to become an officer didn't have to endure the same treatment."

Hatch wrote a note, then said, "I see, Major Wiser."

* * *

Captain Lisa Eichorn said, "At the Academy, we were taught that in wartime, there would be parts of the book to keep and what to throw away. Major Carson can't or won't accept that. The military, in the absence of an actual war, will tend to put things like a smart military appearance, immaculate paperwork, and other non-essential things. In wartime, we have to be tactically proficient first. One of my mentors at George AFB gave me some advice recently; the more senior I get, the more I should make an effort to study tactics."

Senator Glenn asked, "Did he say why?"

"Sir, as we gain seniority, we get pulled in more directions. As we gain rank and seniority, we are expected to study and understand strategy, administration, policy, financial management, career progression for our subordinates, et cetera. Tactics, Senator, are the foundational elements of our trade. Tactics are where the transactions are made, and where the wins and losses are tallied. He studies tactics, sir, to both maintain his credibility as a leader, and also to get some clarity and focus as part of an Air Force that in a great deal of tumult and turbulence as we digest the lessons of the war."

Glenn nodded. "That makes sense, Captain."

* * *

Helms asked Sophie, "I understand that your maiden name was Henrix?"

"That's correct, Mister Chairman."

"Thank you. Captain, you are an exceedingly rare individual--a woman in special operations. May I ask how you achieved that?"

"Certainly, Senator. Before the war, I was attending MIT on a full scholarship, and I didn't exactly take good care of myself during my first semester there. I wasn't eating healthy food. I gained ten pounds of fat, so my body was getting flabby. Even worse, my thinking was getting flabby--I didn't exactly post stellar grades at first, and I barely avoided going on academic probation. During the Christmas break, I talked to our family doctor, and he told me that the mind and body are connected. He advised me to get regular exercise, and a dear friend from high school who'd gone into the Marines told me the same thing--and he also told me, 'Pain is weakness leaving the body.'

"One thing led to another, and in six months I went from being sedentary and flabby to having the best beach body in McCormick Hall--MIT's female dorm--AND the highest GPA. Mind-body connection confirmed. I then began competing in triathlons--the shorter ones, mostly sprints. I haven't done an Ironman yet.

"So, a year later, the war started. I enlisted in the Air Force--my boyfriend was a Combat Controller. I was then recommended for Special Reconnaissance in part because of my expertise in electronics technology and partly because of my high degree of physical fitness, plus proving during the field operations phase to have a solid understanding of basic ground tactics."

Helms nodded. "Did you find the training easy?"

"Senator, if Special Tactics training ever becomes easy, for anybody, someone needs to go down to Eglin and fire the instructors. The whole point is to pull the students past what they think that they can do, and they just do whatever is necessary to accomplish the mission. It's mental AND physical--but it is a case of mind over matter. Today, my mind commands my body, Senator . . . and my body obeys, without regard to weather, fatigue, or the enemy."

Helms nodded. "I see. And that issue of willpower goes for men as well?"

"Absolutely, sir. Few men or women make it through the Special Tactics pipeline, sir. And, yes, there are only a very few women who can do so--maybe a dozen or so in the entire Air Force. And that standard has to be maintained. In my field, technology is no substitute for the physical and mental resilience of the warfighter. To borrow a memorable line from Conan the Barbarian, 'What is steel, compared to the hand that wields it?' There is no such thing as a dangerous weapon; there are merely dangerous people."

Senator Hillary Clinton said, "Captain Lodge, that sounds a lot like the 'Guns don't kill people, people kill people' argument."

"Madam Senator . . . during the war, I killed three people with my bare hands."

The hearing room went dead silent.

Clinton said, "That didn't sound like boasting . . . or humor."

"I never joke about that sort of thing, Madam Senator. Nor do I boast. My wartime mission is killing people and breaking things. My peacetime mission is, along with all of my comrades in arms across all of the armed services, to force potential aggressors to ask not what America can do for them, but what America can do to them."

Clinton smiled. "Well, maybe everyone will stop calling me 'Hillary the Hun' after this conversation. You make me look like a harmless, lovable fuzzball."

There was a round of nervous laughter.

* * *

Helms said, "Now, I note for the record that you are banned--for life, no less--from ever setting foot aboard the USS Carl Vinson. Could you explain how that happened?"

Sophie smiled. "Well, Senator, the Vinson has the call sign "Battlestar," just as the USS Enterprise has the call sign "Starbase." And they play the theme from Battlestar Galactica as their breakaway song at the end of underway replenishment.

"After Kamchatka, I was bored. Idle hands are the Devil's workshop, and I'd just been in my second operational mission and my first real battle, so my judgement may have been somewhat degraded. To relieve my boredom, I figured out how to get access to the 5MC topside speakers through the ship's internal communications network, and how to override the signal from the bridge. From there . . . well, Senator, I played a different song than their usual one when we broke away from restocking jet fuel and ordnance."

Helms chuckled. "So, please, Captain Lodge, name the song that got you a lifetime ban."

"It was the theme from Battlestar Galactica, sir."

Sophie smiled.

"The disco version."

The room erupted in prolonged laughter.

* * *

"Please state your name, rank, and current duty assignment for the record."

"Major Guadalupe Hernandez, United States Air Force, Retired. I was a fighter pilot assigned to the 32nd Fighter Squadron, 32nd Tactical Fighter Wing, flying the F-15C Eagle. I am now on disability retirement and work as an aerospace engineer for McDonnell-Douglas."

Helms nodded. "I understand you were taken prisoner during the war."

"That is correct, sir. I was shot down in June of 1988 while participating in an offensive fighter sweep during Operation LONG RIFLE."

Helms asked "If you could give me a summary of your treatment as a POW, please?"

"Well, Senator, I got picked up by a Mexican unit, and that was just about the worst possible case. I was called traidora a la raza--a "traitor to the race." So, I'm of Mexican descent, I'm a woman, and I'd just bagged two MiG-21s flown by the Mexican Air Force. Nobody ever got decent treatment as a POW, but mine was off the charts. I got the full monty--the "welcome to captivity" beatings, followed by about a dozen rapes, both organized and opportunistic, mock executions, the usual torture and interrogation, et cetera. Make no mistake, sir: male prisoners got raped, as well. It was about power and dominance, not sex. After about four days of this, a female Soviet colonel showed up and made a big show of shutting the Mexicans down and 'escorting me to safety,' in hopes that I'd give up secrets."

Helms nodded, a pained expression on his face. "And what did you do then?"

"She tried to seduce me, and I played along long enough to her drown in a stock tank. From there, I managed to escape and made my way to the resistance. We eventually got overrun by the ROK White Horse Division, and that was the end of the war for me."

"So, given your experience, what do you have to say about women in combat?"

"I'd do it all again, Senator. America is my land, freedom is my creed. What I went through was the price of victory; others paid with their lives. In honor of what I did to escape, my adopted daughter is named Jael--I'm sure you get the reference."

Helms nodded. "I see."

* * *

"Please state your name, rank, and current duty assignment for the record."

"Helen Mantell, Major, Idaho National Guard, currently the Operations Officer in Second Squadron, 116th Cavalry Regiment, Idaho National Guard."

Helms asked, "And your previous names?"

"Helen Kreider-Zangas, and Helen Zangas."

"I see. And you went from a hyphenated name to your . . . husband's . . . name because?"

Helen smiled. "It seemed the right thing to do."

There was a polite chuckle from the gallery.

"Major, you're living in a polygamous relationship with one man and three other women. One might question your judgement."

Helen smiled. "There are days where I question my own judgement."

More laughter.

"But, Senator, all I can say is that it's right for us. We do love each other--yes, I love Josh, and I also love Roberta, and I love Jeanna and Debs. We work together to raise our children, to keep a home, and to love, cherish, and honor one another. We're going to grow old together . . . and when our time is up, we'll be buried together on our land, with flowers growing on our graves--hopefully, to be tended by our descendants for many generations to come. We want to establish our home as the centerpiece of both our business enterprises and our family life.

"Would I recommend our arrangement for everyone? Absolutely not. We're so much of an edge case we're not even in the same time zone as the Bell Curve, let alone anywhere on it."

* * *

Senator Hatch asked, "We've encountered other cases of sexual harrassment in today's testimony. Do you have anything to share about this issue?"

"Yes, sir. Sexual harrassment is going to happen. Nobody is perfect. Some people didn't get proper discipline and upbringing from their parents, others simply refused to accept those morals that their parents tried to teach them, and lower level leaders end up having to clean up the mess. As leaders, we need to lay out the standards of behavior, model those behaviors in our own actions, and charge our junior officers and noncommissioned officers to handle breaches of those standards quickly and decisively. Early on, while I was in training at Sacajawea Maneuver Area, I had to deal with a soldier who was both disrespectful of a peer--a woman--and insubordinate to me. I swung the hammer as hard as could, sir. He got a company grade Article 15, reduced in grade to E-2 . . . and punted over to become another unit's problem. Eventually, he became Big Army's problem. His name was Timothy McVeigh. I understand he might get out of the Castle at Leavenworth in 2013 or so. If he behaves himself--not that I ever see him doing that."

* * *

"Mister Chairman, I oppose renewing the combat exclusion law."

Helms said, "Major, I find your opposition somewhat . . . curious. I would be the last to question your courage; there's nothing left for you to prove on that count. You came within a hair of dying."

"Indeed I did, sir. And many women did die. Senator, I firmly believe in equality of rights between men and women--that men and women should all have full equality of opportunity to use our talents, skills, and gifts as each of us sees fit for our own betterment and, hopefully, for the betterment of our communities and America. But equal rights must come with equal responsibilities. You can't sustain a society where rights and responsibilities aren't evenly balanced for all; it will eventually breed resentment, envy, and distrust on all sides. And women, if they want equality before the law, equal pay for equal work, equal opportunity for education and self-development, and an equal say in the future of this nation, must accept the burdens of an equal responsibility to serve and protect America, including equally placing our lives at risk instead of hiding in the rear with the beer and the gear. I firmly believe that any combat exclusion law is manifestly unfair to men, forcing them to carry far too much of the burden of war.

"My husband has a plaque on the wall above his desk. It's a quote that was originally written on a C-Ration box by a Marine at Khe Sanh: 'For those that will fight for it . . . FREEDOM . . . has a flavor the protected shall never know.' Before the war, I didn't understand that concept; indeed, I didn't even have a frame of reference to understand it. I was vaguely patriotic--a sort of 'I live here' kind of patriotism.

"Now, I understand that freedom costs far more than mere money. We just got a terrible reminder of just how high that cost can be. That is a lesson that needs to be taught to every young man and woman in this country, not just in word, but most importantly, we need to teach it by our deeds. Charles Marion Russell put it best: 'Guard, protect, and cherish your land, for there is no afterlife for a place that started out as Heaven.' I have paid seven years of my life thus far in return for freedom, and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen of the Senate: it's the best bargain I've ever received. It is an honor to continue to serve this nation, and to be an American cavalrywoman. If the trumpet sounds again, I will gladly answer the call."

There was a long silence, broken finally by applause from the audience, from the other witnesses, and finally by members of the committee.

Helms was silent for a long moment.

At last, he said, "Major, I disagree with you on this issue. However, I must commend you for making a well-thought-out, logical, and eloquent argument for your case. All too often, both sides of the aisle mistake passion for reason and volume for clear thinking. I'm at least as guilty as anyone of those failings, quite probably moreso than average. My disagreement is rooted less in logic and more in tradition and sentiment--but I believe those are valid sources for policy. All of us are human, with feelings and beliefs that aren't necessarily driven by logic."

"Senator, my position is rooted in my sentiments as well, and not entirely in logic. I agree wholeheartedly that it's entirely proper for anyone to say, 'I feel that this is the right thing to do.' And it may be that, in the long run, I am wrong. One of America's many crowning glories is that self-governance is an ongoing experiment. We're not committed to a given course of action into perpetuity--if We the People, after weighing and measuring the outcomes of our policy choices, decide that we're on the wrong track, we can change course."

* * *

"Please state your name, rank, and current duty assignment for the record."

"Joshua Mantell, Chief Warrant Officer 4, United States Air Force Reserve, currently assigned to Air Force ROTC Detachment 905, Idaho State University as an instructor in military science."

Helms said, "I'm going to yield to the rest of the committee for the time being."

* * *

Senator Nancy Kassebaum went first. "Chief, you've heard the testimony of various POWs. Could you share your thoughts on that subject?"

"Madam Senator, one of the friends I've made since moving to Idaho was, by coincidence, a POW at Holguin South during the endgame with Cuba. Had the invasion gone forward, I would've led the assault on her camp. There is a part of me that is glad we didn't have to go in--but, after hearing her story and the stories those who've testified today, there is another part of me that, honestly, wishes we had. I believe in my heart that justice is the one thing you should be able to find in this world. Sometimes, Senator . . . rough justice is the only kind of justice you're ever going to get. Vengeance may be the Lord's, but I would have been quite content to work in His collections department, ma'am."

A couple of Senators started to chuckle--and then went silent as they saw Josh's expression.

* * *

Senator Clinton asked, "Do you have any observations to share on the topic of sexual harrassment in the ranks?"

"Madam Senator, that sort of crap simply wasn't tolerated in the 26th Marines. Mostly because everyone routinely carried automatic weapons and high explosives."

There was general laughter.

* * *

Helms nodded. "Thank you, esteemed colleauges, for your questions."

He turned to Mantell.

"You were there for the entirety of the war, Mister Mantell. I'm going to ask you one question. I'm asking it of all of you--as a combat veteran, as an Air Force Special Tactics Officer, as a husband to four wives, and as a father to a daughter and a son--and, presumably, to many more to come. Do you think we should renew the combat exclusion? "

"No, sir."

"Do you think women belong in the combat arms, as your wife Helen believes?"

"I'm not as . . . firmly . . . in favor of it as she is, sir. She believes that women should be assigned on exactly the same basis as men--involuntarily, if necessary, to meet the needs of the service. I'm not so sure of that. But that is solely my personal opinion, Senator."

Helms nodded. "But you think they should be in combat arms?"

"In a perfect world? I would say no, Senator. I'm not on the same wavelength as her in that regard--but, then again, in my own way, I'm just as much of an idealist as she is. I believe that men and women are not equal in the sense of being identical. They aren't. Men and women are very different--and I believe that society should be able to recognize that men and women are different, recognize that those differences are every bit as valuable as the similarities, and find a way to treat those differences in comparable fashion when treating them in identical fashion isn't possible.

"Then again, Senator, in a perfect world . . . we wouldn't need anyone in combat arms, we wouldn't even know what that phrase means. And I thank God that our world is as thoroughly flawed as I am, Senator, otherwise I couldn't possibly live in it."

There was a stir from the audience. Helms looked at the ribbons on Mantell's uniform, and nodded. "Mister Mantell . . . I do understand what you're saying, I really do. So, what's your answer for the flawed, imperfect world that we live in?"

"Sir, my answer is the combat exclusion law is a luxury we simply can't afford. The pool of 18 year olds in this Year of Our Lord One Thousand Nine Hundred Ninety-Two comes from the babies that were born in 1974. Cher may want to turn back time, but she can't, and neither can anyone else. 1974 was notable for being the last time in nearly a decade that birth rates stayed at or above replacement levels--and then from 1985 to 1990, they stayed so far below replacement levels that the graduating high school classes of 2003-2008 are going to be some of the smallest in over a century; some towns aren't going to have any graduates in those years. We're going to need a lot of bodies, male and female, to sustain the military we're going to need for at least the next quarter century. We aren't going to have the bodies to spare to segregate out women from combat arms duty. And many women combat arms veterans take pride in their service, and they will be expecting their daughters to follow in their footsteps when it's their time to join the phalanx. As General LeMay expressed it, 'Times change, and we have to change with them.' And what I might like or not like isn't going to be a factor, Senator. This flawed and imperfect world will have the final say, as it always does."

This time, the silence seemed almost tactile.

Finally, Helms said, "Mister Mantell, I thank you for your candor. You, and the many other witnesses we have called, have given this committee--and me--a great deal to think about."

He picked up his gavel and tapped it once. "This meeting is now adjourned."

[Matt Wiser]

Good one. O'l Jesse is trying to shore up his Conservative credentials-not that he needs to-with North Carolina's electorate, but... his bill to reintroduce the Combat Exclusion Law is going to fail. It may not even get to the Senate Floor-and even if it does, there's not enough votes to pass. And any companion bill in the House? HASC will have a hearing or two, but that won't make it out of Committee, let alone the full House. if by some miracle it passes both houses and goes to the President? This is '92, Bush's last full year in office. He would veto it without hesitation. And Helms knows it. He just wants this all out for the record.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Just once, everyone (except Frank) wins.

[jemhouston]

Cunningham blinked once, then said, "Chief, you just summarized a 60-slide presentation we got last month in three sentences. Not bad. So, let's go over your planned testimony."

I don't believe it, he would never sit through 60 slides.


Very good soap box speech / Kirk Summation.

[Wolfman]

Just once, everyone (except Frank) wins.

And even Frank seems to walk away unscathed (which counts as a win for him).

[Johnnie Lyle]

Just once, everyone (except Frank) wins.

And even Frank seems to walk away unscathed (which counts as a win for him).

Well, the whole world now knows he’s a twerp, in living color.

But he’s a big enough idjit that they probably already did.

[jemhouston]

Just once, everyone (except Frank) wins.

And even Frank seems to walk away unscathed (which counts as a win for him).

Well, the whole world now knows he’s a twerp, in living color.

But he’s a big enough idjit that they probably already did.

It's on the Congressional Record, so I think he can't sue for libel. Then again, if he does, he's in for Hell during discovery.

[Matt Wiser]

Just once, everyone (except Frank) wins.

And even Frank seems to walk away unscathed (which counts as a win for him).

Well, the whole world now knows he’s a twerp, in living color.

But he’s a big enough idjit that they probably already did.

With C-SPAN and CNN covering the hearings? He's now known to the world (for fifteen minutes of fame-until his court-martial).

He's also been exposed as a first-class hypocrite: wanting people written up on fraternization, and yet, he's taking female airmen to bed before he'll endorse their ATP applications (and Flossy wasn't the only one).

[Johnnie Lyle]

And even Frank seems to walk away unscathed (which counts as a win for him).

Well, the whole world now knows he’s a twerp, in living color.

But he’s a big enough idjit that they probably already did.

With C-SPAN and CNN covering the hearings? He's now known to the world (for fifteen minutes of fame-until his court-martial).

Hell, Moscow probably knew well before.

He's also been exposed as a first-class hypocrite: wanting people written up on fraternization, and yet, he's taking female airmen to bed before he'll endorse their ATP applications (and Flossy wasn't the only one).

First-class hypocrites neither know nor care that they are hypocrites. It’s why they’re immune to shame.

[Poohbah]

07 July 1992
Doubletree Center City
Philadelphia, PA

Roberta said, "Let's get some attitude adjustment in."

Helen smiled. "I'm off alcohol for the duration, remember?"

"Some cranberry juice, then. Seriously, let's sip and chat before dinner."

In the bar, Josh noticed Sophie standing with Major Wiser and Captain Eichorn. She waved at Josh.

"Hey, there's Sophie and the Wisers."

They headed over, and Sophie high-fived Josh. "Josh, this is Major Matt 'Guru' Wiser, and his wife, Captain Lisa 'Goalie' Eichorn. I met them in '88 at Sheppard. Guru, Goalie, this is Chief Warrant Officer Joshual Mantell, call sign T-Bar, and his wives Roberta, aka 'Build-It Bobbi'--"

Roberta said, "I'm FIGMO'd, I don't have a call sign."

"You do now. If AthenaSoft takes off like I think it could, I want you to design a properly stately manor home for the growing Lodge family, that I may properly represent as a capitalist exploiter of the proletariat."

Everyone chuckled.

Sophie then said, "And this is Helen, who should have a really cool title awarded by the Governor of Idaho, such as Grand Mistress of the Horse, but the Governor is apparently a complete wally."

Helen chuckled. "Um . . . not going to argue about the governor being a wally. He managed to get crosswise with the good folk of the Spokane River Valley regarding water rights, and that's kind of important in the Intermountain West."

Guru nodded. "I'm from Auberry, up above Fresno. Water is everything west of roughly . . . well, Central Nebraska." He smiled at Josh. "T-Bar?"

Sophie chuckled. "Stands for 'That Boy Ain't Right.' Got hung on him when somebody found him making a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich on toasted sourdough."

Everyone had a good laugh.

* * *

As they waited in the bar for a table--the restaurant was packed--Guru asked, "If I heard correctly, you're an ROTC instructor at Idaho State?"

Mantell nodded. "Yes, and a student as well, finishing a bachelor's in computer science and software engineering next year. I also teach leadership at the satellite det, over at BYU Pocatello. A tad unusual, but Colonel Holland uses it for recruiting. He flat-out tells every candidate to not consider applying unless they think that they have it them to lead men and women like me."

Sophie guffawed. "Like that's going to deter anyone."

Guru chuckled. "A lot will go into the program just to prove that they can. To themselves, if no one else."

Mantell nodded. "Given that ISU has the biggest single AFROTC detachment in the Intermountain West, and BYU Pocatello's a close second, I think it worked."

Sophie asked, "How about you, Guru?"

"I'm teaching ROTC at UCLA and getting a Master's in International Relations, and Goalie's an instructor WSO at George AFB, up by Victorville. I get my flight time on the weekends--the rules say husband and wife can't fly combat, nothing saying we can't fly training sorties together."

The talk flowed easily as everyone got to know each other.

Roberta asked, "So, what was the weirdest thing anyone here ever saw during the war?"

Guru said, "Well, having a Bigfoot come into camp when I and several other downed aircrew were exfiling out of the Rockies in May '86. How that thing got away from that hail of lead everyone shot at it I'll never know."

Sophie's expression was dubious. "Bigfoot?"

Josh asked, "Did it yell 'Goonie Goo-Goo?'"

Everyone at the table cracked up at the Eddie Murphy reference.

Guru asked, "Josh, did you see anything weird?"

Josh scratched his jaw, took a sip of his drink, then said, "I didn't exactly see this. I heard it, though."

Roberta asked, "What?"

"A ghost train, of all things."

Sophie said, "Seriously?"

Josh held his hand up. "Scout's honor, boss-ma'am." He took another sip, then said, "During a pause in PRAIRIE FIRE--we were still in New Mexico--we'd stopped close to the Southern Pacific right of way. We laagered up for the night--it was ten-tenths overcast with a new moon, we were maybe five miles from the nearest residence, fifty miles from the nearest town, and probably one hundred miles from the nearest place with electric lights. We were ruthless about light discipline in Fifth MarDiv. It was absolutely pitch black. Those on watch were trying to stay awake, those off watch were sleeping.

"We heard, of all things, a steam whistle, and then we heard the chuff-chuff-chuff of reciprocating steam--we figured the Mexican rail authority was trying to run a damn museum piece along the Southern Pacific line and that they had no idea we were there. So we stood too, and we're using the thermal sights to try to find the locomotve--hey, a steam engine's going to have a pretty impressive thermal signature, right?"

Everyone nodded. Goalie said, "You would think that."

"We're scanning all along the tracks, and we can't see anything on thermal except a farmhouse in the other direction. The locomotive sounds are getting closer. Still see nothing. The steam whistle blows again, and this time, it's damn near in front of us. My platoon leader fires a flare.

"The train sound is going right past us, the whistle is still blowing and dopplering down like it's passing us, our night vision is destroyed, and there's NOTHING on the tracks. We then displaced just in case some WARPAC LRRPs were in the area and saw us when the flare lit everything up.

"Next morning, we drive over to the ranch house. It wan't too far south of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe line. The rancher was a descendant of the original settlers--the cherished family heirloom was the land patent granted to his ancestors by His Most Catholic Majesty Philip of Spain. We asked him if he'd seen anything, and he told us that the previous night had been the 97th anniversary of a horrific train wreck. Where the two lines crossed, the AT&SF guy at the interlocking tower had thrown a red-on-red and locked the Southern Pacific line to give the AT&SF express precedence."

Goalie said, "So, what happened?"

"The Southern Pacific train derailed at the interlocking, and as the less injured survivors were trying to get people out of the cars that had piled into the AT&SF right of way, the AT&SF express hit the pile-up. Worst part was that some of the cargo on the AT&SF express was carrying twenty tons of dynamite intended for mines in Arizona. Over three hundred dead . . . the rancher told us that every anniversary, you could hear the Southern Pacific train racing north to its doom."

Sophie shuddered. "All so one company's train wouldn't have to adjust its schedule. I could see the ghosts not having any peace."

Goalie said, "I had a UFO sighting out at George, as an instructor--we're coming back from live drops at China Lake, and this 50-foot diameter disc, bright as chrome, just flies off our starboard wing like he's welded there, no matter what we do. Lead calls the break, and the thing just takes off like we're chained to a post. One second it's there, then next it's halfway to the Panamint Range, next second after that, it's gone."

Guru chuckled. "Our wartime intel officer, Sin Licon, is now at Wright-Patterson, going through 'Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon' reports for Blue Book."

Mantell chuckled. "Wow. He gets to go through the genuine 'we can't figure this out' stuff, the black programs 'whoops, our bad' stuff . . . and the Nut File."

Everyone laughed.

* * *

After everyone had ordered, Mantell and Wiser swapped stories of Day 1, and they discussed the Highway War.

Wiser mentioned a British officer calling in airstrikes at the Stockyards in Clovis.

Mantell said, "Major Michael Ferguson, Royal Marines. 3/28 had taken a frightful pounding, the CO had to be medevaced, the XO was dead, Ops was down to a junior captain, and said junior captain told Major Ferguson to take charge and start giving orders, because he barely knew how to maneuver a company, let alone three of them."

"He went out of his way to sound calm on the radio," Eichorn said.

Mantell put on a passable Received Pronunciation accent. "I say, old chap, this is Thunderhawk Actual, we urgently need air support at grid such-and-such, we'll try to shoot the MANPADS chaps when they pop up . . . "

Wiser laughed. "Oh, God, that's him! And then he'd say, 'Splendidly done, splendidly done.'"

Mantell said, "Well, 3/28 has a 42 Commando Major on exchange tour permanently assigned as the XO--that's how tight the relationship is between 3/28 and 42 Commando. And Colonel Ferguson has a standing invite to visit 5th Marine Division whenever he wishes. There are Marines who are loved, there are Marines who are respected, but there are very few Marines on either side of the Atlantic who are loved and respected to that extent."

Sophie nodded. "That's extremely tight."

Wiser asked, "So how did Clovis turn into that grind?"

Mantell said, "Former Cobra driver thought he knew how to handle a light armored infantry company. Had them do a mounted cavalry charge into the Stockyards, and the Cuban Airborne were waiting. About the only guys still combat effective five minutes in was the weapons platoon."

Sophie asked, "What did they do different?"

"They couldn't get into the kill zone because the burning wrecks from the rest of the company were blocking it off. So they dismounted and worked their way forward, trying to link up with anyone who could fight and form a hasty perimeter. They had to fall back. By the time the rest of 3/28 got into position for a second attempt, the Cubans were dug in around the wrecks, and they were giving up only one LAV length at a time. And thus began the Battle of the Stockyards. Between 28th Marines needing massive numbers of replacements and the entire division needing repair and refit, we ended up in Corps reserve for two weeks."

Wiser sighed. "We had a hard time delivering CAS. The smoke hugged the stockyards, and it was hard to see landmarks or to use Pave Spike pods."

Mantell nodded. "And 26th and 27th Marines were racing east the whole time. Luck of the draw--27th had cleaned out T-Town, so it was 28th's turn."

Sophie asked, "So what happened to the Cobra driver who started the fiasco?"

Mantell just stared at her, and she said, "Right."

* * *

"Matt . . . I get the impression that Carson is utterly despised, but for more than was ever made public at the hearings."

Wiser nodded. "Look, it wasn't appropriate to raise the issue in a televised hearing. But there's a criminal investigation that's still ongoing." He paused, then said, "There was a friendly fire incident in December '87. He rolled in on some trucks and strafed the hell out of them. Recognition panels, a wave-off from the forward air controller, his wingman and his wingman's WSO, and his own WSO all calling check fire be damned. Final box score was 13 killed, 14 wounded, eight civilians and five Civil Affairs soldiers killed, one of the civilians killed was a kid."

Guru sipped his wine, then said, "All of his negative character traits played into that event. Arrogance, impulsiveness, lack of situational awareness in the air, and the beat goes on."

Mantell sighed. "I was wrapping up Special Reconnaissance Officer training, and we dissected the report as soon as we got it as part of our classroom work." Mantell sipped his wine.

"Carson broke the most fundamental rules. He was unable even to command himself, and 27 people paid for that failing with either life or limb. But the part that absolutely frosts me the most is the refusal to accept responsibility for doing so--that he also adds a refusal to learn from, or even acknowledge, his failings."

Roberta said, "I ran into him in Vegas in '86, on R&R. I'd developed a . . . relationship . . . with my roommate in the hotel. Carson decided to hit on both of us at the MGM Grand grill, and wasn't interested in our replies of 'no' until Sunshine Actual, General Conway--the commander of the 40th Mech--told him to wave off." She sipped her wine, then said, "He hasn't changed a bit. I hope he gets properly roasted."

Sophie said, "Damn straight."

* * *

December 29th, 1992
Pocatello

Helen looked at her baby with wonder and delight.

Josh asked, "Did we ever finalize her name, or is she still Sweet Baby Whatshername until further notice?"

Helen smiled. "Roberta Mary Mantell. Named for Roberta . . . and your mother, who was a wonderful woman."

"You never met her."

"I've met her kids. That's enough."

Debs chuckled. "She's got you there, Josh."

* * *

Josh stepped out into the hallway, to receive a bearhug from his brother.

"Josh, my man! Congratulations yet again! So, you're nest-hatching bigtime now!"

"Thanks, Mike. Nest hatching?"

"The Kindly Old Gentleman looked askance at having more than two kids."

"I can only make so many people happy per day. The Kindly Old Gentleman's day never came up."

"I get it, bro. You still driving the Baby Bullitt?"

"Only from May to October. I keep it in a humidity-controlled garage bay in the winter months."

"Good man. Take proper care of it long enough, it'll become a classic."

"True. How's Cathy?"

"Doing fine, and so are the kids. And I made the list."

"What list--wait, you're going to be an Captain? Damn, they must be giving eagles away!"

"I keep telling the SUBRON skipper that it must be admin error. How about you?"

"Last semester is coming up in January. One thing about having four wives--they've helped me do four years of school in three. And the Air Force is doing some voodoo with my grade and time in service. You ready for this? They're commissioning me as a Captain."

"Unrestricted?"

Josh nodded. "They're doing a one-to-one correspondence with Warrant Officer grades, up to CW3, for AFSOC warrants who take a commission. They want us at least somewhat on pace for career development. The lesson learned from the war is that Special Reconnaissance and cyber operations are crucial for an Air Force that is being driven by information and precision targeting, so we're officially high priority."

"Good job, lad. How's the day job?"

"Sophie has spoken: we're fielding Release 1.0 in mid-January. Should be ready for prime time."

The two brothers went down the hall to the cafeteria, talking of family, work, and life.

Of ordinary things.

Roberta leaned against the doorjamb and smiled as she watched them go.

Thank You, God, that we were able to see this day come. A free country at peace.

[Johnnie Lyle]

Peanut butter and mayonnaise? Ew!

You trying to get some KGB confessing to kidnapping the Lindburgh baby, or practicing biowarfare defense? (OOC, true story, the mayonnaise side anyway).

[Matt Wiser]

Good one. And it shows how everybody's dealing with life in postwar America.

[jemhouston]

Good one. And it shows how everybody's dealing with life in postwar America.

Most deal with it in mostly constructive ways. Those of us who did some stupid stuff got help to stop fairly fast. Those who didn't be came post war causalities.

[Wolfman]

Good work there, Poohbah.

[Poohbah]

May 8th, 1993
Reed Gymnasium
Idaho State University
Pocatello, ID

"Joshua Mantell, Bachelor of Science in Computer Sciences and Software Engineering, with academic distinction."

Josh stepped forward, accepted his diploma, shook the Dean's hand firmly, and stepped off.


8 June 1993
The Sands Hotel
Las Vegas, NV

Josh looked at the CERT warning and sipped his Jolt Cola. George Rodgers said, "Zero day, code in the wild, and it's inside the kernel." He sighed. "Worst case situation."

Sophie let herself into the room, carrying a large pizza. "All right, half Supreme and half straight pepperoni. I see George got the Jolt, and Josh, you need to call Debs and Roberta."

* * *

"Hi, honey."

Debs said, "Josh, where are you?"

"I'm in Rodgers' room with him and Sophie. While we were flying down, CERT just released a zero-day."

Debs said, "Oh, bother." She sighed. "You're pulling an all-nighter?"

"Absent a miracle, yes."

"Just let yourself in and crash when you can, dear. Roberta and I will make sure you're out of bed on time."

Debs hung up the phone and sighed again. Roberta came up and wrapped her arms around her from behind.

"How about a backrub?"

"I kinda want the sort of backrub that turns into a baby nine months later."

"Same here. But at least I do have very nice hands."

"Oh, that you do, Roberta, darling."

She turned in Roberta's arms and gave her a kiss.

* * *

Josh tapped away on an HP-16C Computer Scientist calculator and watched binary digits shift under various situations.

And suddenly smiled.

"I just figured out how this works." He tapped the printout on the table. "You see the string that precedes the commands?"

Sophie said, "Yeah."

"Why is it that particular string that precedes it, and not any random set of Unicode that long?"

Sophie looked, and then said, "Wait, that is freaking weird. They're repeating the same charsets over and over for the first 258 bytes, and then they're putting in 382 bytes of commands, starting with a systime command . . . against the kernel?"

Rodgers blinked. "Those first or last two characters in the charset, if you shove them into the cache memory and immediately run systime . . . "

Sophie nodded. "But everyone who uses Linux knows you're not supposed to do that because time returns a wonky value if you call it right after that . . . "

Rodgers said, "That's it! The wonky value screws up systime until the kernel does the atrun cleanup. 256 bytes divided by 8 equals 32, that makes sure all bits of the return value are corrupted, and that will push the system into superuser mode to clean up, but before the system can do an atrun, it's running the code you just shoved in right after the time command--'download this package and run it.' It's a cuckoo's egg. A very fancy, roundabout way to do that trick you could play with Gnu-Emacs ten years ago, but it's the same thing."

"Great. We know what it's doing. So how do we fix it?"

Rodgers said, "Gotta keep the clock from getting corrupted."

Mantell said, "The clock's absolutely fine--if you somehow did manage to corrupt the actual sysclock, the whole server flatlines, DRT--Dead Right There. The time command's returned value is what's getting corrupted . . . "

His voice trailed off for a second, then he said, "What if we have systime check its value before returning it to system, and if it's wonky, it returns the value of a pointer to the sysclock instead of its native return?"

Sophie blinked.

"Damn it, Josh! That's TOO easy!"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they tested their system patch.

They cheerfully abused the hell out of the box attempting the exploit. The system didn't even hiccup.

Sophie smiled. "Guys, we need to get this patch pushed out to our customers--all twenty-three of them--ASAP. Tonight."

* * *

Josh let himself into the bedroom and saw Roberta and Debs snuggling under the sheets. Debs said, "That was quicker than I thought."

"When three smart guys are looking at the problem, it gets solved."

Roberta chuckled, then said, "Come to bed, darling."

* * *

9 June 1993
The Sands Hotel
Las Vegas, NV

Debs was wearing a turquoise blouse with gray slacks and blazer, and she carried an attaché case that held her Day-Timer and her read-ahead notes for the computer security seminar course she was taking on behalf of the Sheriff's Office.

She inserted her S&W 4006 into her shoulder holster and wore her BCSO credentials on a lanyard. Nevada wasn't constitutional carry--that was only a thing in Vermont, Texas, North Dakota, and Montana, and under consideration in Idaho--but they did extend full reciprocity to duly credentialed LEOs and CCW holders from neighboring states.

Josh wore a conservative business suit. Roberta smiled at him. "You clean up well."

Debs said, "That he does."

Josh said, "Debs, dear, you look absolutely smashing in that outfit."

"I do?"

Roberta said, "I'm out shopping today, and I'm going to steal your look. Seriously, Debs, that is spot on. It says you're 100% professional and 100% woman."

Debs blushed, then said, "Thanks, guys. I wasn't 100% sure about this."

Josh headed over and gave Debs a kiss, and then one to Roberta.

"Well, off we go to start the Hacker Challenge and maybe sell some product."

* * *

Josh greeted Sophie in the restaurant, along with George Rodgers and Keith Price, who was going to be the system admin on the AthenaSoft AEGIS 1.0.0.4 network firewall for the Hacker Challenge.

They compared notes.

Sophie sipped her coffee and said, "A wise woman can hear profit on the wind." She held a hand to her ear and smiled. "And I hear profit, coming in fivers. Josh, George . . . great moments are born of great opportunity. This is your moment. Just go out there and take it. Win this one for the Gipper."

Josh said, "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Sophie watched as Netscape's NetGuardian fell in less than 15 minutes to an as-yet undocumented zero-day flaw in AT&T SVR Unix.

At least we lasted longer than the assholes who fired me!

Bloomberg's hire as Chief Technology Officer was glowering at the scoreboard. Sophie waved at him and smiled.

* * *

Sophie swung past the booth--and saw Josh pumping his fist up and down and point at her.

Get over here NOW-NOW-NOW!

And then she recognized Dr. Sherman Bryce, her faculty advisor at MIT.

She came over and said, "Doctor Bryce, it's good to see you again."

"Good to see you, Sophie. I'm the CIO with Bank of America now--the money's a whole lot better than MIT. Listen, we got extremely lucky last month--some hackers hit Citigroup and not us. Looks like Citigroup is going to eat about 200 million in losses above what their insurance covered."

Sophie blinked. "Good Lord!"

"Yeah. It was a very sophisticated attack--they hit some of the servers at Citigroup's Chicago Trading Floor data center and went wild. So, I've been given a free hand to clean things up. We're looking to cover all of our big datacenters."

Over the next fifteen minutes, they discussed data throughput and uptime requirements, network architectures, and hammered out an order for 300 firewall systems, plus training and technical support services.

Sophie said, "Josh, you're going to be awful busy for the next month."

Josh got on the computer and quickly punched the details into their boilerplate contract, and blinked at the total bill they were charging the customer.

He then looked at the crowd waiting in line.

He motioned Sophie aside. "Uh, boss?"

"What?"

"Y'see that guy in line? He's the CTO for Merrill Lynch. Behind him? Sumitomo's senior IT guy--he doesn't have a C-suite title. BofA alone is going to flatline me building servers--it's going to take me over a month unless I go port and stupid."

Sophie blinked. "Port and stupid?"

"12 on, 12 off. Jeanna is going to kick my ass, unless Roberta asserts senior wife privilege, and then SHE will kick my ass, followed by Jeanna, and Debs might decide to get some stick time in for shits and giggles. We just graduated to the big leagues, and we need to call Fran, now-now-now."

Sophie came back and said, "Well, we just got a curve ball thrown at us. Business growth. Let me call Fran--"

Bryce asked, "Who's Fran?"

"Fran Gilman. Our business banker--we bank with BofA."

"Give me a minute before you call her. Where's she at?"

"Pocatello, Idaho."

Bryce pulled out a MicroTAC phone and dialed.

"Hey, Bob, it's Sherm. I got good news and bad news. Good news is I found the best, most secure firewall on the market. Bad news, they hand build them right now."

Josh pulled up a spreadsheet and typed in some text fields, remembering his business management courses to come up with coefficients, then priced the costs of key components in a mass-production plant.

"Well, my guess is that it would take over a month, and they've got more people waiting in line. It'd take probably two weeks--or less--to set up an assembly facility--"

Sophie started calling out numbers, and he put them in.

"Bob, it's the only firewall that survived Capture the Flag without a breach."

Sophie whirled to look at the big scoreboard. And there it was...and there were now about fifty well-dressed men and women standing in line.

"Like I told you, it's the best. Look, they bank with BofA in Pocatello, with Fran Gilman. How about we work with Buisiness Development and advance them enough money from the purchase order to build out a production facility, then pay the rest on delivery? Call it a bridge loan if we have to--"

Sophie turned back to Josh and looked at the cost estimate for a production facility.

And just managed to avoid gasping at the final figure: $15,975,000.

Josh said, "Payroll's going to be about 50 skilled assembly workers, 20 in shipping and receiving, 14 team leads, 3 foremen, and a facility manager. Baseline skilled electronics assembly in our neck of the woods is about $12 per hour. Sweeten it by 20% for the first 30 hires to get some experienced people. And we're going to need to train up support and training cadre as well."

Bryce made a "May I?" gesture to see the laptop screen.

Josh spun it around, and Bryce said, "Bob, we're dropping $75 million on this purchase plus support, let's advance them $25 million for plant expansion, we'll have a very profitable business banking relationship with an industry leader . . . you'll call her? Outstanding."

Bryce hung up. "Give him 30 minutes, then call Fran Gilman."

Twenty minutes later, Sophie's phone went off.

"Sophie Lodge."

"Sophie, this is Fran with Bank of America. Listen, I got a phone call from the mothership, they're floating you a loan for building a production facility . . . you know about this?"

"Yeah, we're going to need it. Fran, we've hit the mother lode here." She watched Rodgers confidently upsell a Japanese sarariman to a "Gold Tier" customer service plan that he'd apparently come up with on the spot. She walked over and glanced at his notes--they looked even better than what they'd quoted to Bank of America, and Josh was roughing out a contract package for . . .

"Hey, Fran, looks like we've sold over $200 million worth of product and support services, and there's a lot more people in line waving checkbooks."

"Two million?"

"Negative, Two-zero-zero million. And more to come."

Sophie heard the snap of Gilman's cigarette lighter. "Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick and carrying a chicken basket, honey, you done did it."

[Matt Wiser]

They are set. And postwar, this kind of business will be very important.

[jemhouston]

They are set. And postwar, this kind of business will be very important.

When they deliver they'll be set. Hardware / software in customer's hands is goal.

[clancyphile]

A huge success.