A Tan Beret Goes to Nellis

[Matt Wiser]

Sophie noticed the dog doesn't like the barmaid. She will note every time that happens, and keep that note for future reference. Sophie also needs to touch base with Ranger Cordell Walker and MSGT Karen Sisco. Walker runs the local Resistance and also is the ranking State-level lawman around (there are some DPS and Game Wardens who went underground with the Resistance, and they're back at their old jobs, with the latter not so much looking for poachers, but they are still state troopers. And Sisco, a Deputy U.S. Marshal in civilian life, is working with AFOSI.

[jemhouston]

You know, there are some vets missing a limb that's looking for something to do.

[Matt Wiser]

Indeed.

[Poohbah]

09 Janaury 1988
Sheppard AFB
Wichita Falls

Sophie stepped into the CSP shelter and held out a jar of Taster's Choice.

Blanchard took it and said, "Bless you, Chief. What else have you got for me?"

"Buddy doesn't like Susan Abercrombie. Neither does Patrick."

"Who's Patrick?"

"333's German Shepherd. He goes a-wandering off to VA-135's area looking for their admin officer--he's a big ol' softie when it comes to dogs--whenever Abercrombie comes through."

Blanchard said, "Now, look . . . I absolutely trust Buddy's good judgement and discernment, and I'm also willing to trust Patrick's, to a point--he DOES hang around with those crayon-eaters, after all--but, unfortunately, neither I, nor anyone else on this base, speaks dog."

"Point taken. But I'm getting more and more convinced it's her. I wish I could give you a definite reason, but at this point, it's my instincts. Dogs don't like her, and her smile doesn't ever get to her eyes."

"Again, I need a reasonable, articulable suspicion. It must be based in a reasonable interpretation of specific facts that you can put into language."

Sophie nodded. "Any chance we can do a pen register trap and trace on her phone?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I interned at Bell Labs, working on software for the 5ESS phone switch."

"Okay . . . well, there's no expectation of privacy, she has to give the information to the phone company . . . we'll need an order from the military government's Staff Judge Advocate, but that's it, there's no specific criteria needed. I'll get it drafted up today."

* * *

10 January 1988
DIA Headquarters
King of Prussia, PA

General Lodge sighed as he walked through the security checkpoint and retrieved his sack lunch.

Hard to believe this used to be the biggest shopping mall in the state.

The DIA had taken it over and had handed a blank check to Gerald Wheeler, Registered Architect, known to Pennsylvania's architectural community as "Mad Jerry."

In just three months, Wheeler had turned a pair of shopping mall buildings into office buildings almost suited for highly classified work. The stores had become secure office spaces, archives, and conference areas; the indoor open area was kept untouched, giving those who worked there a comfortable place to take their lunch or a walk.

He made his way to what had been Sears, and walked down three separate corridors to his office.

To see Senator Coats waiting in his reception area. His aide, Lieutenant Diana Prince, USN, stood to. "Good morning, sir. Senator Coats is asking for a moment of your time--"

"It's quite all right, Lieutenant. Please, Senator, come on in."

The coffee was already brewed, and Lodge poured a cup for Coats, then himself.

Coats said, "Damn, she makes a good cup of coffee."

"Actually, I load the machine and set the timer the night before. I need Lieutenant Prince for much more important tasks than making my coffee."

Coats nodded. "Point taken."

"So, Senator, what brings you in at zero-dark-thirty on a Sunday?"

Coats said, "I had a conversation a couple days ago with Doctor Julius Preble, the Chief Archivist of the Texas State Government in Exile. He's asking for help."

"What sort of help?"

Coats said, "Funding. He's got too few people and too much work." Coats paused, then said, "It turns out everyone's hitting him up for background checks on driver's licenses, et cetera. He's got the master index of what was issued as of July 1st, 1985--the war interrupted the quarterly update, of course." Coats paused, then said, "He mentioned that he's getting a lot of requests just from the Lubbock area. I gave him the keep-it-quiet signal, and he dropped it, but he knows that there's something going on."

Lodge nodded. "I see. You're asking for me to dip into contingent funds?"

Coats nodded. "Now, of course, I will push to ensure the DIA is reimbursed."

Lodge nodded. "I know you will. And this is kind of important. There's way too many PSD operatives, and they did have halfway decent teachers in spycraft. And Ivan's deep-cover people are going to be swimming in that pool, too. I can cut loose $500,000 without too much trouble--that should get us about 10 people. I'll write up the grant and get it approved, then visit the Indianapolis VA hospital with Doctor Preble and see who's willing to hire on."

* * *

10 January 1988
Officer's Club
Sheppard Air Force Base
Wichita Falls, TX

Sophie watched Susan Abercrombie. She used a BiC 4-color pen as she jotted tick marks in her notebook.

Blanchard noticed Sophie's scribblings and asked, "What's that?"

"It's a kind of mathematical game. I'm studying a topology problem."

"Topology? Is that like topography?"

"Nope. Topography is the study of the Earth's surface. Topology is the study of the properties of spaces that are invariant under continuous deformation."

Blanchard sighed. "Chief, I ended up tapping out of math courses after my second semester of statistics. Could you explain that in English?"

"Well, it's stuff like the Seven Bridges of Koenigsberg Problem."

Blanchard said, "Never heard of it."

Kara said, "It's a problem in creating a path that crosses all bridges in a city, and crossing each bridge just once. Now, Koenigsberg had a problem in that you couldn't do that, because of the city's layout--there was a guy who mathematically proved that."

Sophie nodded. "Or a traveling salesman problem: 'here is a list of cities, and here are the roads that connect them. Give me a travel plan that takes a salesman to each one of those cities in the shortest total travel distance.' Stuff like that."

"I see. And you actually play games with math? That's a little much for me." Blanchard sighed. "To each their own, I guess."

* * *

11 January 1988
Sheppard AFB
Wichita Falls, TX

Sophie stepped into the CSP hut and closed the door behind her.

Blanchard said, "Haven't heard back from Indianapolis yet."

Sophie nodded, then sat down opposite Blanchard. She held up a file folder.

"Ma'am, I think that math game I was playing last night may give us a reasonable, articulable suspicion."

Blanchard sat back in her chair and stared at Sophie. "Oh, really? I've got to hear this one."

Sophie opened the folder. "Now, we're going to make some assumptions here. The first assumption is that people go to the officer's club to drink and socialize."

Blanchard nodded. "All right, that's a reasonable assumption. But where are you going with it?"

"Hang on, ma'am, I have to detune the math down to where someone who doesn't have my mutant math ability can follow me, so I have to set the stage, all right?"

Blanchard nodded. "Okay."

"Now, second assumption: all factors are roughly equal for alcohol consumption, across all units represented at the club. In other words, any ten patrons selected at random will consume roughly the same number of drinks across the evening. Navy, Air Force, Marines, they're all going to put away booze at about the same rate."

Blanchard considered this for a moment, then nodded. "All right, that's also reasonable."

"All right, so with those two assumptions, we can thus conclude that waitresses should be roughly equally distributed across all areas of the club."

Blanchard said, "They are, I've noticed. Each waitress has an assigned area, about the same number of tables."

"Exactly. Now, let us take the case of Susan Abercrombie."

"Yes, let's. You haven't given me squat yet--"

Sophie felt herself smiling.

Blanchard stopped. "More assumptions?"

"Yes, ma'am, more assumptions. First, Abercrombie serves in the 335th's area, VMFA-333's, and VMFA-451's. The ratios work out to 5:5:3 for bodies; the 335th has about the same number of officers as 333, and 451 has about 60% of the 335th or 333."

"Okay."

"Now, ma'am, we have to assume that it's generally understood that the 335th has The Thing in the Basement."

Blanchard chuckled. "You make it sound like something out of H. P. Lovecraft. But, yeah, I've heard people gossiping about it here and there."

Sophie nodded. "So, all other factors being equal, we should see Abercrombie spending roughly 10 minutes with the 335th, 10 minutes with the Shamrocks, and 6 minutes with the Warlords, making sure everyone's got drinks."

Blanchard nodded. "I take it you're coming up with something else?"

"It works out to 10 minutes with the 335th, 12 minutes with the Marines. She's giving rather poor service to the Marines, and I'm surprised nobody's noticed. Now, why is she so enamored with the 335th? It ain't Buddy's scintillating company--he's long gone when she shows up."

Blanchard tapped her fingers on her desk again. After a long moment, she said, "Yeah, that's reasonable, articulable suspicion. We're still a long ways from probable cause. But we can start looking more closely."

[Johnnie Lyle]

We could factor in the usual prejudices about the Air Force and the Marines and expect her to spend more time with the USMC, and thus be even more suspicious of her spending time with the 335th.

[Matt Wiser]

She's probably picked up enough by overhearing folks after one too many drinks that something's being planned, and the 335th is leading the planning for a mission.

[Johnnie Lyle]

She's probably picked up enough by overhearing folks after one too many drinks that something's being planned, and the 335th is leading the planning for a mission.

Which should drive a normal person away.

For a lot of people, special missions mean kids coming back in boxes, and that’s an incredible emotional burden to intentionally take on.

[Poohbah]

13 January 1988
Sheppard Air Force Base
Wichita Falls, TX

Sophie awoke and slipped out of her bunk. She'd spent an enjoyable evening with a brunette A-7 driver from VA-135, then returned to her bunk.

She looked out the door of the GP tent she shared with seven other women and saw that the sky was brilliantly clear, with a carpet of stars overhead, the air was cold, and the ground was dry.

She quietly dressed in her winter PT gear, donned a reflector vest, and strapped on her gunfighter rig.

She went through her warmup routine, then let herself relax into the run.

A moment from Chariots of Fire crossed her mind.

I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. When I run, I feel His pleasure.

Sophie laughed lightly, and decided she needed a real workout. She began running faster, concentrating on keeping her breathing under control and her whole body relaxed, even her legs. The cold air was sweet, and the stars above sparkled with the fires of Creation.

There were some other diehard runners out, and she called "on your left" multiple times, getting acknowledgements ranging from grunts to "Jesus Christ!"

* * *

38 minutes and seven miles later, Sophie was back at her tent, grabbing her shower kit and uniform, and headed to the showers.

* * *

Back at the tent, she hung her PT gear--washed in the shower--over the communal clothesline strung along the west side of the GP tent and stowed her gear, and unlocked her rifle from the rack as the other occupants of the tent rolled out of their bunks.

Captain Danielle Wheeler, with the base headquarters admin shop, said, "Good God, Sophie, you are entirely too energetic for this early in the damn morning."

Sophie said, "Early to bed and early to rise makes a woman healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Wheeler grunted.

First Lieutenant Stephanie Parker asked, "Where does scoring with Brenda Jenkins from 135 fit in with that?"

Sophie laughed. "Well, early to bed and early to rise makes me horny as hell, too."

* * *

Sophie looked at the overheads, then the map of Gray Army Airfield with the AAA position marked.

Sin Licon said, "I don't like that look on your face, Chief. What gives?"

Sophie flipped through the F-4E Phanton II Dash-1 and found the Energy-Maneuvering chart she wanted.

"Well, sir, we're even. I don't like that Shilka parking there."

"What's bugging you about it?"

"We everyone to want to clear out west after the drop. But that puts them broadside to the Shilka, right in that thing's sweet spot. Now, if everyone turns east instead, it gets them out of the engagement envelope more quickly because there's a rise you can duck behind--"

"It's all of 70 feet worth of rise."

"It's enough." She went to the chalkboard and drew a side view, showing the rise and a stick-figure Shilka. She drew a dashed line from the Shilka to the crest of the rise and then beyond, then shaded the sky just below the line on the far side of the rise. She then drew a stick figure F-4 making a turn.

Licon chuckled. "Picasso you're not, Chief."

"Sue me, sir. The point is, the sooner you turn east, then turn north once you get abeam that rise, that Shilka can't see anything below that line, and what that commie can't see, he can't hit."

Licon looked at the drawing, then at the Dash-1 Sophie was holding open. "You know how to read those diagrams?"

"It's math, sir. And if it's math, I'm like a bird in the sky sir--I'm where I belong."

"There's a saying among fighter pilots: never trust anyone more willing to fly a slide rule than kick your ass."

"Point taken. I just kick people's asses with a slide rule."

Licon smiled. "That's the spirit! Play to your strengths, make the other guy play to his weaknesses."

The door opened, and Guru came in.

"Good morning, sir."

Guru took in the diagram on the chalkboard. "What's up with that?"

"She thinks if you turn east coming off of Gray Army Airfield, you can use terrain masking, and I wasn't seeing it."

Guru looked at it, then said, "Well, Chief, your argument is better than your artistry. Now, we might be a tad lower than we'd like, but that beats getting shot down."

Licon nodded. "True enough, sir."

"Chief, you up for an orientation ride tomorrow or Friday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's get you on the schedule, then."

* * *

14 January 1988
335th Tactical Fighter Squadron Aircrew Life Support Shop

Technical Sergeant Penny Blaze helped fit Sophie's helmet, oxygen mask, flight suit, and G-suit. "All right, ma'am, let's test the mask fit. I need you to breathe in when I close the valve here, okay? Let me know if there's any leakage through the sides of the mask." Blaze closed the valve, and Sophie inhaled, feeling the mask press in on her face. She gave Blaze a thumbs-up.

* * *

14 January 1988
Over Western Texas

Guru said, "All right, Sophie, we're going to do a little air combat maneuvering, basic fighter maneuvers, trying to get into position for a good guns engagement."

"Ready whenever you are, Guru."

She tapped the pocket she'd put her "first" airsickness bag in.

Kara's voice came over the radio. "Sophie, this is going to be the most fun you've ever had with your clothes on!"

Sophie smiled, then said, "Ever HALO out of a BUFF at fifty grand?"

"Nope, and I have no plans to do so."

Sophie chuckled.

"All right. Two, Lead, typical 1v1, we break, come back to the merge, and fight's on."

"Two."

"And . . . BREAK!"

The two Phantoms parted, and turned back toward each other. Sophie spotted the smoke trail from Kara's aircraft and watched as she flew past on their left side. Guru was already turning toward Kara as Sophie turned, using one of the "towel bars" for leverage.

"You got her?"

"She's went vertical, nose Is coming over, at our high eight o'clock."

Guru rolled toward Kara.

* * *

Kara laughed. "Goalie, he went for it!"

She pulled down further and rolled 45 degrees left.

* * *

And then the numbers lined up.

"Guru, unload and roll 270, then pull!"

"What?"

"Just do it!"

Guru continued the roll and unloaded the aircraft, then finished rolling through 270 degrees and pulled back on the stick . . .

. . . to find Kara's bird dead on in a perfect guns tracking position.

"Guns, guns, guns!"

Goalie turned to look behind her. "Starbuck, he's got us."

* * *

After the debrief, Kara banged on the door of Guru's office.

"Show yourself and come in!"

She walked in to find Guru in an unusually pensive mood.

"Damn, boss, you picked that move off faster than I could think it up."

Guru shook his head. "Wasn't me. I damn near flew right into your trap. You had me faked out."

Starbuck felt a chill run through her. "Wait, Sophie saw that, not you?"

Guru nodded. "She borrowed Robert Shaw's Fighter Combat: Tactics and Maneuvering while she was at Nellis, read it cover to cover, and memorized the math in the appendices. She sees numbers. And she didn't need to use an airsickness bag, either."

Kara leaned against the door. "Sir, you know we have to call General Tanner about this. Chief Warrant Officer Sophie Henrix needs to go to knife and fork, get her commissioned, and she needs to be streamed into fighters. F-15s, preferably. It's not just ability . . . she's a meat-eater. Dear God, she'd be a freaking assassin up there."

* * *

General Tanner said, "Guru . . . yeah, she'd be a hell of a fighter pilot. She's the sort of person who'd be the best at whatever you give her. But her rabbi is going to tell me to go to hell. Fighter pilots are a dime a dozen compared to special operators, and she's apparently one of the best special operators in the Air Force, period. Not 'best female operator.' Best operator in 23rd Air Force, the end. She is extremely smart, she thinks many moves ahead, she's here to do whatever's needed to win the war . . . and she's already found her calling. We can't afford to rip her out of the war for a year to learn something else."

"Sir, When you confirmed me in this job, you told me to talent-scout people for flight or nav school. I'd be derelict in that duty if I didn't at least try with her."

"That I did. But she's already been scouted, and by a guy I'd rather not annoy."

"Who's that, sir?"

"Major General (Promotable) Samuel Eliot Morison Lodge, call sign 'Rolodex.' Also known as 'The Last Spymaster.' He's a former Air Commando, went into intelligence during Vietnam. Right now, he's at the Defense Intelligence Agency."

"How'd he get the call sign?"

Tanner chuckled. "Let's say that, for whatever reason, you need a left-handed bricklayer who plays grandmaster level chess and speaks Bulgarian. General Lodge probably has the guy's phone number."

[Poohbah]

Music for this chapter:

Running:



Basic Fighter Maneuvers:

[Matt Wiser]

And Tanner would rather not piss off General Lodge. But Guru had to at least try and get Sophie a commission and pilot's wings.

[Wolfman]

He did try. General Tanner simply said she’s more useful where she is than in a fighter cockpit (and everything else said about General Lodge)…

[Poohbah]

15 January 1988
Wichita Falls, TX

Ryan Blanchard was driving the jeep into downtown, and Sophie was keeping an eye peeled for trouble.

They got out at the Fulton Building, where a stenciled sign read, "PROVISIONAL STATE GOVERNMENT OFFICES THIRD FLOOR."

They went up the stairs. A slender blonde in old school OD fatigues stood to attention and swiped at her forehead in a loose approximation of a salute. Her nametag read "DALRYMPLE."

"Chief, this is Specialist Dalrymple, Texas State Defense Force. Specialist Dalrymple, Chief Warrant Officer Henrix. Is Ranger Walker about the area?"

Dalrymple's voice was pure Texas twang. "No, ma'am. He's visiting with Judge Perkins."

"Thanks, Bonnie." Blanchard said to Sophie, "I know where Hizzoner's ranch is, and he's always willing to put another plate on the table."

* * *

The ranch was a ways outside of town. A man in jeans, button-down shirt, and Ranger uniform hat waved. "Ryan! Good to see you again."

"Cordell Walker, this is Chief Warrant Officer Sophie Henrix, she's at Sheppard on a special project. Sophie, this is Cordell Walker, Texas Ranger."

After a brief grip-and-grin, Walker said, "The Air Commandos have gotten a lot better-looking since I was in."

Sophie laughed and said, "Oh, BEHAVE! Yeah, things have changed a bit."

"C'mon in. Judge Perkins is whipping up some of his world-famous chili and cornbread."

In the kitchen, delicious smells were coming from the wood stove and oven. A fit man in his late sixties was tending a stock pot.

Walker said, "Sophie, this is the Honorable Frederick Perkins, formerly a judge of the 2nd District Court of Appeals. Fred, this is Chief Warrant Office Sophie Lodge, who is some sort of Air Commando--they didn't have tan berets when I was in."

Sophie said, "It's a new branch. I'm what they call a Special Reconnaissance Officer. We do deep recon ahead of the forward line of troops for the numbered air force commander."

Perkins smiled. "Warheads on foreheads. Outstanding! Welcome to my modest home, young lady. Dinner will be on in a few." He guided them to the kitchen table and pulled out chairs, then served them soda water.

Sophie saw a picture on the wall and blinked.

"That's Jedburgh Castle, isn't it?"

Perkins nodded and kept stirring. "You have a discerning eye, ma'am."

Sophie said, "You're standing next to David Lodge."

Perkins turned and smiled. "You know the Lodge family?"

"My boyfriend is David's grandson, Adam."

Blanchard looked oddly at Sophie. "Boyfriend?"

Sophie said, "My current antics are cover for status."

Perkins said, "Now there's a phrase I haven't heard since I was playing Cowboys and Cossacks in Vienna after the war." He looked at Sophie carefully. "So, what's your boyfriend up to?"

"He's a combat controller. Like his uncle, General Samuel Lodge, and me . . . well, we're all winning this war for the Gipper."

Perkins lifted his bottle of soda water. "Suits me just fine. Win just one the Gipper!"

Everyone toasted and drank.

* * *

The chili was delicious, and the cornbread was hot and fresh.

Perkins said, "Eat up, honey, there's plenty to go around."

He ladled out another bowl for everyone.

"So, Captain Blanchard, I am assuming that this isn't a purely social call, not that I mind having two lovely young women gracing my kitchen."

Blanchard nodded. "Well, Chief Henrix is here on a special project, and she has hit the nail on the head as to our big problem: we're probably infested with hostile intelligence operatives, probably from PSD, KGB, and GRU alike." She sighed. "I keep asking for more support, and I get told AFOSI has higher priority tasking."

Sophie said, "I have a little insight into that. They really do have a higher priority tasking right now, that's all I can say. All the way from the Ritz-Carlton in Philly."

Walker nodded. "I figured. Ryan, the Air Force isn't stupid. There's obviously something very hot right now, and they just can't cover everything."

Blanchard nodded. "Still, it's inconvenient. So, Sophie developed a lead. One Susan Abercrombie, works at the O Club as a waitress. But it's a bunch of supposes and maybes, and a little bit of mathematical analysis that might not stand up in court as a predicate."

Perkins said, "Well, lay it on me. It stays here in my kitchen. But I can give you a pretty solid read."

Sophie explained about Susan Abercrombie--Starbuck's observation, and the facts that the dogs didn't like her."

Perkins sighed. "Now, I know that Texas jurisprudence has a certain reputation, but we really do have to consider case law and precedent. And all you've got at this point is a not-quite articulated suspicion. There can be any number of innocent explanations for that."

Sophie nodded. "I did a mathematical analysis of her movements in the bar."

Perkins said, "All right, now we're getting somewhere. But I'm going to need some credentials."

"MIT, would've been class of '87 with a double major in computer science and applied mathematics. I actually have academic publication credits--my first paper credit was as a junior in high school, I did some computer programming for a team at San Diego State. I also identified a hacker who was juicing a bunch of people's grades at San Diego State."

Walker asked, "How'd you do that?"

"Judge, could I borrow some paper and a pencil, please?"

Perkins pointed at a basket on the end of the kitchen table, and Ryan passed some paper and a pencil.

"Now, Sophie, understand that I have some math, but I'm probably not your level. So keep this at where a history major and a criminal prosecutor can understand it."

"Way ahead of you, sir--I had to make it understandable for the prosecutor."

Sophie drew a normal distribution curve on the paper. "All right. Normal distribution. Low at the far extremes, and a single hump in the middle. Let's say this is American History exam results for a large population. I'm middling." She tapped the middle of the curve. "I'm reasonably literate in what I've actually studied--and going to MIT, I was getting Harvard profs who were making some extra beer money as my professor, so I got a pretty good education. But this wasn't my passion." She tapped the far right end of the curve. "That's, say, Bruce Catton or Stephen Ambrose."

"And the far left?"

"They're the folks who wonder why the Donner Party didn't just take I-80."

Everyone laughed.

Sophie then drew an X about halfway between the left end and the middle of the curve. "All right. Now let's say this is where the metal meets the meat. That is the score you have to get to get a passing grade."

Sophie then drew another curve, but this one had a low hump starting at the far left, a discontinuity just to the left of the X, and then there was a steeply descending curve that curved back up and then down again.

Walker said, "That doesn't look right."

Perkins said, "A bunch of people squeaked by. And hardly anyone just barely failed." He looked at Sophie. "So, a bunch of people got extra points from somewhere."

Sophie said, "Exactly."

Walker said, "All right, so you know that someone was juicing the scores. How'd you figure out who did it?"

Sophie said, "This was just one class. I found the same pattern across six different classes." She smiled. "I just looked for the guy who was enrolled in all six classes. He was in his sixth year at San Diego State, and still hadn't passed his lower div work--until, suddenly, he had just enough points to pass those classes despite having absolutely awful homework scores. Turns out he was one of the Comp Sci department's superstars. He confessed as soon as he saw the grade sheets."

Walker asked, "How'd you get called in, anyway?"

Sophie chuckled. "My mother was a Distinguished Professor of Classical Antiquity at San Diego State. She showed me one of her Assistant Professors' grade sheets and asked me to explain it."

"Okay, then. You're officially an expert. Explain."

Sophie explained the fact that the 335th was getting more attention than they should have.

"She's hanging around them."

"And they're the special project outfit?"

Blanchard nodded.

"Where did we find her?"

"She came south from Amarillo."

Walker said, "Damn it. County seat, she'll have perfect papers."

Perkins nodded. "But where is she from?"

"From her records, she was born in Lubbock."

Sophie said, "Uh, Ryan? That problem I mentioned? It's in Lubbock."

Perkins scratched his ear. "Listen . . . if I'm on the up-and-up, the first place I'd want to go when I could would be my hometown."

Sophie nodded, remembering Michael Daukei and his impatience to get back to his home.

Perkins sipped some soda water. "Conversely . . . the last place I'd want to go if I'm not on the up-and-up is a place infested with counterintelligence people."

Walker nodded. "And there's something else. The PSD practice a certain trick of tradecraft because they're vulnerable to infiltration. They have a bunch of free agents, they call them 'stingers.' They work outside the 'regular' chain of command, directly for the senior leaders in a given area--those people were the only ones who knew the stingers. Now, we have a pretty tight chain of command for the Resistance here in Texas. If we say a target's off-limits, he's off-limits, and it sticks. And we wanted those senior PSD leaders."

Sophie said, "People do go rogue."

Perkins said, "And if they did, they'd end up in my court. I rode circuit here in Wichita County."

"Rode circuit?"

"I rode around and heard cases, just as if the government of Texas was still running the show. I applied common law and common sense, and served as a reminder that the foreigner only ruled within range of his rifles. And offenses against military discipline were handled in my courtroom. I sentenced three Resistance members to death--one for treason, and two for violating withhold orders."

Walker said, "Well, when the 49th Armored Division, Texas National Guard showed up in Amarillo, the local Resistance got tasked with grabbing the senior PSD guys because we wanted the stingers." He sighed. "We found all of the bigshots--dead. When we walked the cat back, we verified that everyone from the Resistance was accounted for and nowhere nearby. My guess is that one of the stingers decided that they didn't want any loose ends and whacked the only people who could identify him--or her."

Perkins nodded. "Sophie, if Abercrombie is a stinger, you're likely dealing with all kinds of psychopathologies. Be extremely careful."

Sophie smiled. "As a young woman with an active social life, I always carry protection." She patted the holster of her M12.

Walker smiled. "Remain alert. Trust no one. Keep that pistol handy."

[Matt Wiser]

So, she's touched base with Cordell Walker and the Judge. They know that Susan is a player, but not enough to qualify for probable cause, and that she didn't go home after liberation. If she was legit and wanted to work on a base, Reese isn't that far to the West (Kara's prewar duty station, btw). Now, one might find out who her handler is-and she will have one, either KGB or PSD, but... one way to find out would be to get a GRU asset or two rolled up. They will be reporting on not just Sheppard's units and III Corps HQ, but also the activities of both the KGB and PSD. Remember, the GRU considers the U.S. and its allies as "adversaries." The KGB and any allied agencies (Stasi, DGI, etc.) and the PSD-its creation-are viewed as enemies.

[clancyphile]

IIRC, wasn't there a case where the Resistance grabbed a KGB guy, he got tried for rape and murder, then was executed, and they dropped the transcript of the proceedings in front of a high-ranking Soviet officer along with the corpse?

[Poohbah]

IIRC, wasn't there a case where the Resistance grabbed a KGB guy, he got tried for rape and murder, then was executed, and they dropped the transcript of the proceedings in front of a high-ranking Soviet officer along with the corpse?

They told the Komandantura where to find the body, and the case records were there, too. The victim was a Russian enlisted woman.

[Wolfman]

That the Resistance did their job for them broke the Occupation authorities in that area.

[Poohbah]

15 January 1988
335th TFS HQ
Sheppard AFB
Wichita Falls, TX

Sophie watched as the last of the materials were secured in the safe.

She then said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have one last item on my to-do list here today."

"Today is Friday. Specifically, it's Shut The Fuck Up Friday. When we leave this basement, what do we do? We shut the fuck up. In the officer's club, Thou Shalt Not Open the Hangar Doors. That word needs to go to everybody. Shut the fuck up in the O club, in the Staff NCO Club, in the enlisted club. Do not talk about anything to do with squadron operations, current, future, or planned. Why? Because I'm pretty sure people are listening, and for at least some of them, their loyalty is to Moscow. For others, they'll repeat what they hear, and THEN it gets to a Commie infiltrator. So what do we do, people?"

Licon said, "Shut the fuck up?"

Sophie smiled. "You asking me, sir, or are you telling me?"

Guru laughed. "We shut the fuck up."

"And since we don't have Thank God It's Friday for the duration, every day is Shut The Fuck Up Friday. So what do we do every day, people?"

This time, it was a chorus. "Shut the fuck up!"

Sophie smiled. "So, let us go forth and shut the fuck up for the Gipper!"

* * *

Sophie swung by the communications center and placed a phone call to the SOCOM cell at Nellis.

"Colonel Decker."

"Sir, it's Chief Henrix."

"Sophie! Listen, I was about to send you a message. Special Agent O'Shaugnessy tells me that someone in her outfit is dangling you."

Sophie took a few calming breaths.

"Sir, I do not need that kind of stupidity."

"That's the general consensus here, and your rabbi is quietly raising hell at McGuire. So, what's up on your end?"

"I need to catch spies."

"Kinda figured, especially now that you're being dangled. So, how can I help?"

"Back when I was a frosh at MIT, I ran across a paper that fascinated the hell out of me. It was written by a guy at Harvard named Ronald Breiger, and the title mentioned 'duality' and 'groups.' It's highly mathematical. I can't remember the exact title, but it was published in a sociology journal in the mid-1970s. Could someone go to UNLV and grab a copy to send it to me, care of the 335th?"

"No problem. You should have it by tomorrow morning, I'll have it expedited."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Sophie swung by the Stars & Stripes Bookstore tent and went to the History shelf.

She purchased Paul Revere's Ride by David Hackett Fisher and took it back to her hootch, then headed to the Officer's Club.

* * *

Sophie got a plate of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a salad with ranch dressing on the side. She also picked up a glass of white wine--boxed wine, admittedly, but it was decent enough.

She sat with the 335th, giving Buddy an affectionate scritch behind the ears when he came to her chair and gave her a cheerful "ARF!" with his tail wagging.

She saw a Latina warrant officer from Headquarters & Maintenance Squadron 11 giving her the eye, and she raised her glass toward her.

Brainiac chuckled. "Love 'em and leave 'em?"

Sophie smiled. "So many women, so little time. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow I may be chunky salsa. Ain't got time for true love until the present unpleasantness between the superpowers is over."

[jemhouston]

Are we sure it's stupidity not treason for the person dangling her? Granted during the war, stupidity was generally treasonous.

[Wolfman]

I’m pretty sure it was just stupidity, unless you want to blame BALTAR…

[jemhouston]

I’m pretty sure it was just stupidity, unless you want to blame BALTAR…

Blame him for what you can prove he did or you're reasonable certain he's involved. Don't blame him what you can't find another reason.