The Vaults of Heaven (AU)

[Poohbah]

Author's Note: This takes place one floor up and a couple doors down the hall from the prime Red Dawn Universe.

07 May 1987
Bravo Troop
1st Squadron
4th Cavalry Regiment
First Infantry Division (Mechanized)
Near Hutchiinson, KS

First Lieutenant Helen Zangas fought back tears as she grabbed the microphone. Her M577 command track was one of the few surviving vehicles in the troop; her attached M901 ITVs had both fireballed, and her 12 M3 Bradley CFVs had been whittled down to three.

It's a death ride.

"Saber Bravo, this is Ironman Flight, priority is GBADS, inbound twenty!"

Zangas took half a second to reformat her order. "All Bravo elements, engage GBADS, now-now-now!"

A few pitiful explosions here and there as three SA-11s and two Tunguskas fireballed.

Something seemed to slap at her leg.

And then more Mavericks and Hellfires than she'd ever seen in her life fell out of the sky, and wherever they landed, a Soviet T-80 or a BMP-2 blew up.

It was glorious.

"Saber Bravo, Dagger 6, we're passing your lines in a minute, Demon's got our right flank."

Hawkins was grabbing at her leg.

"What the hell, Hawkins?"

"YOU NEED A TORNIQUET BEFORE YOU BLEED OUT!"

She passed out as the lead elements of the Big Red One's 2nd Brigade rolled past her command track in an unstoppable wave.

* * *

Zangas came to lying on her back, in a dimly lit room. She had IVs hung, her mind was fuzzy, and she started coughing when she tried to open her mouth.

A nurse--part of her noted that she looked kinda cute--came over and held up a cup of water with a straw. "Here, just sip. Your mouth's going to be pretty dry.

She took a sip and swished it around her mouth, swallowed, took another. She felt better.

"Where am I?"

"Alfred Wilson Army Medical Center, Grand Island, Nebraska. It's the 19th. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Hawkins--the company clown--was pawing at my left leg, I asked what the hell, he said something about a torniquet."

"Yeah, you took some spall in your leg, it must've bled pretty heavily. Fixing the wound wasn't a problem, except you ended up catching a nasty variant of staph that shrugged off most of the antibiotics they had at the MASH, so they medevac'd you here. You're still feverish, but the infection's going down."

"Got it."

Zangas yawned once and passed out.

* * *

About a week later, the lights were on, and Zangas was reclined at about 30 degrees.

Someone senior came into the ward, and made his way to her bed.

Holy shit it's Schwartzkopf

Helen said, "Good morning, sir."

Schwartzkopf smiled. "Good afternoon. That was one hell of a piece of soldiering at Hutchinson, Lieutenant. You should've been a light snack, and instead you held them for three hours and kept Fifth Army from getting flanked."

Zangas said, "Sir . . . it didn't feel like I was doing a good job. I lost three-fourths of my troop--"

Schwartzkopf shook his head. "You should've lost all of your troop, including yourself. In a fight like that, anyone surviving is a victory. That you held Ivan's best troops for three hours with some of your command surviving, and setting them up to get rolled by the entire division? That, young lady, is a goddamned miracle. No pity party for you. By all means, mourn that your troops died; but also be thankful that such men and women lived."

Zangas felt herself straighten slightly in the bed. "Yes, sir."

"Outstanding."

An aide passed a bundle to Schwartzkopf, who in turn handed it to Zangas.

"This is your mail. I figured I'd get it to you."

"Thank you, sir."

Schwartzkopf said, "Understand, this is going to go all the way up to Philly. So be ready for . . . well, I don't know what."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

After clearing away the usual stuff, setting aside the bills to get paid when she could get to a bank, and tossing the junk mail, Zangas first read a letter from her parents and wrote a reply, telling them she'd gone to the hospital, but she was all right.

She then saw the letter from Roberta.

She slit it open and pulled out the paper inside.

Darling Helen,

First things first: yes, I accept your proposal. I will be your wife. I will share with you the good times and the bad, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.

Zangas read and reread that first paragraph with a sense of awe, wonder, and joy.

"Your vitals have improved. Good news?"

Helen looked up at the doctor and said, "Yes. My true love said she'd marry me."

The doctor smiled. "That's wonderful! I expect you'll want to get word to her that you're wounded but safe."

* * *

May 30th, 1987
Delta Company
132nd Engineer Battalion
40th Infantry Division (Mechanized)
Artesia, NM

Lieutenant Roberta Kreider stepped into the CO's tent and said, "Lieutenant Kreider reporting as ordered, sir."

Captain Barker said, "Lieutenant, I just received a priority message for you from Philly regarding one Lieutenant Helen Zangas in Fifth Army."

Roberta felt her heart leap into her throat, and Barker said, "She's alive. Wounded and medevac'd, but alive. I want you to hand the platoon over to Lieutenant Prentiss, he's a good lad, ready to take command; I want you at Division HQ in Roswell, preparatory to retrograde to Sixth Army HQ. For some reason, Big Army wants you to remain alive and well."

* * *

16 June 1987
Echo Company
2nd Battalion, 26th Marines
Fifth Marine Division
Lubbock, TX

Captain Jonathan Hardcastle rubbed a hand along his jaw, frowning at the stubble.

"Send it, Corpsman."

Hosptial Corpsman (Fleet Marine Force) Second Class Jennifer Danilov said, "Sir, it's about Gunny Mantell. He's . . . well, sir, you have to understand. Sergeant Webster and Gunny Mantell were . . . attracted to each other. Never acted on it--"

Hardcastle nodded. "I understand."

"Well, sir . . . right now, I'm worried that Gunny might go on a death ride. And the entire platoon will follow him. Half to try to save him . . . and the other half to die with him."

Hardcastle looked her in the eye. "Which group are you in?"

Danilov whispered, "I don't know, sir."

Hardcastle nodded again.

"All right. I'm shuffling the assignments. Tell Gunny Mantell I'd like to see him, please, and while he's here, pack up his seabag, and have the acting platoon sergeant handle turn-in for his deuce gear. He's off to Vandenberg."

* * *

"Gunnery Sergeant Mantell reporting as ordered."

"Gunny, I've cut you orders to rehab at Vandenberg. Look, you're mentally injured. You've borne your burden for far too long, and it's just like having a physical wound; you need treatment and time to recuperate. I don't want you doing some death ride because I left you in charge and let you crack up completely. Get well, and don't come back to the front until you are. This war's still a long way from over, I want you to get to the end alive and reasonably well, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Aye aye, sir."

[Matt Wiser]

Nice job, Poobah. Well done.

[jemhouston]

Well done

[Wolfman]

Bravo Zulu, sir.

[Poohbah]

22 June 1987
4927th Medical Rehabilitation Wing
Vandenberg AFB, CA

Major General Kevin Bueller, USMC set the report down and swore quietly.

"Just . . . damn."

Major General Samuel Lodge, USAF was pacing back and forth.

"Sam, do me a favor and Sit. The. Fuck. Down. You're making me jumpy."

Sam did so, then picked up a mug of coffee and took a sip. "OK. He's your protégé. Your thoughts?"

"Doc Tulloch's going to have her work cut out for her."

Lodge nodded. "And?"

"And . . . Sam, look. I got on the wrong side of HQMC politics about how we mishandled the underage service issue. And then someone found my list of potential officer candidates, and I've been told that everyone on the list is now blackballed. Including Mantell, which I consider to be nothing less than a crime against national strategy."

Lodge raised an eyebrow.

"Sam, that kid, at 18 years old, laid out the USSR's strategic goals in early 1984. They wanted the Midwest."

Lodge said, "The world's most productive farmland. Not even collectivization could screw things up to the point where it wouldn't feed the USSR."

"Exactly. And he saw it based solely on two data points: that Moscow was all in on turning Mexico into a client state, and that a few Christian missionaries who'd slipped into and out of the Soviet Union were using words like 'famine.' That is what got me to make that first phone call to you. Before I ever met him--I got it from the deputy G-3, who was impressed with his analysis. Then he twigged onto that monitoring post overlooking the MWWU compound--and that was pure instinct. He just felt like he was being watched."

Lodge nodded. "Okay, so Mantell's a genius. What are you saying?"

"If you're looking for talent, he's officially available. The Marine Corps will be glad to be rid of him just because he's associated with me."

Lodge looked at the service record in front of him, noted his ASVAB scores, and asked, "How is he with computers?"

"Pretty smart--he wrote some programs to automate routine elements of aircraft maintenance administration. It's now standard use in Third Marine Air Wing. All before he ever made Corporal."

Lodge said, "Assuming he can recuperate sufficiently--a big question mark--I might have something."

* * *

23 June 1987

Major Joan Tulloch, United States Air Force, sighed. "OK, General Lodge, here's the situation. He is now an orphan--one who, based on the information you've given me, had issues in his relationship with his father. Nothing especially serious, the usual stuff between a father and a young son developing his own sense of identity, especially when the father had to be absent . . . but he's carrying guilt for not having said important things before his father passed. Then there's his breakup with his girlfriend--whom, apparently, he loved very deeply--the night before the war. He's carrying guilt and pain from that.

"And then there's the Marines entrusted to his care who have since gone home in flag-draped caskets. Mantell is an extremely conscientious young man. Raised Catholic, was even an altar boy. He drifted away from the church over various issues, but the sense of right and wrong, the understanding that we have obligations and duties in this life that will affect our place in eternity? Those ideas never left him. He's wondering if any of those deaths were through his fault, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Apparently, based on the initial report, one of those Marines was a young woman who'd developed an attraction to Mantell--and one that Mantell both reciprocated and worked mightily to not express.

"So, take two parts unresolved differences with his father, one part mutual unrequited love, one part guilt over the death of that love, and five parts guilt over being unfaithful in his heart to his ex-girlfriend, then add typical combat stress pathologies, lack of proper sleep for months on end, et cetera, put in a blender on puree, and bake at 350 degrees . . . I'm honestly surprised he hasn't cracked already. If I can help him to heal, he will be a formidable asset. If I can't . . . we're looking at medical retirement. Honestly, the hard part is going to be getting him to open up."

* * *

25 June 1987

Lodge looked up from the report he'd been studying, noticing that it was dark outside.

Then he saw the clock. 2137. Damn.

Major Kathy Barzanian was standing in the doorway. "Uncle Samuel?"

His eyebrows went up, then he realized his protégé was probably the only other person in the building.

"What is it, Little Gadarene?"

Barzanian laughed. "Not so little any more. I did, after all, grow up--and out."

Lodge sighed. "And I'm not supposed to have noticed that. Come in, have a seat. What's on your mind?"

"Joshua Mantell. I know you want to recruit him. I know he's in no shape for service and needs to heal. And I think I have a way to help him heal."

"What do you propose?"

"I'm still outpatient. And patient fraternization is officially no one's business--"

"I'm not whoring you out--"

"No, Uncle, you're not. This is as much for me as it is for him. I'm just letting you know what's going on."

"Little Gadarene . . . consider this a bit of friendly advice from your mentor: this is the sort of thing where you should simply beg forgiveness instead of bothering to ask permission."

Barzanian smiled. "Like I said, Uncle . . . I'm not asking permission."

Lodge shook his head, chuckling. "I guess that sweet little girl I met in Turkey really is all grown up."

* * *

26 June 1987

Mantell walked back to his dormitory, bemused that he'd actually been issued casual civilian attire--khakis and polo shirts--for his stay. No saluting, no ranks; those things had been found to be detrimental to helping people get past their traumas.

He'd undergone another bruising session with Doctor Tulloch, who was asking him questions about his relationship with his father.

He didn't understand why she thought that was so important. Dad was dead--wrong place and wrong time, a Spetsnaz raid at MCRD coinciding with the Naval Academy Alumni Club meeting at the Bayview, hardly anyone made it out of the Bayview alive, and they were all kitchen staff.

Stuff happens in a war.

He went to the front desk and asked for his mail.

The middle-aged woman reached into his box and pulled out a small blue envelope. "Not mail, but a young lady dropped this off."

Josh opened the envelope. A woman's handwriting.

I'm a friend from before. Meet me at 6 PM for dinner?

There was an address out in Vandenberg Village.

* * *

The afternoon sunshine was a counterpoint to the cool northerly breeze.

The address was a garden apartment complex. Josh knocked on the door, and blinked in suprise to see Kathy Barzanian in jeans and an SDSU Aztecs t-shirt. Before he could say anything, she'd ushered him into the apartment. Delicious smells were coming from the kitchen.

"Right on time, have a seat. Let me get you a glass--"

"Uh, ma'am, are you sure--"

"Yes. Now sit down and have some wine, Josh. And I'm Kathy. No ranks. I'm in outpatient treatment right now."

* * *

Dinner was an Armenian-Mexican fusion--tacos with ground lamb and Armenian spices, goat cheese, lettuce, and tomato--and eech--an Armenian bulgur and herb salad. Kathy poured wine, and Josh felt himself actually relaxing.

They chatted of things they remembered in San Diego, people they knew, places they'd been.

"Josh . . . please accept my condolences on losing your parents."

And for the first time, Josh felt the emotion behind those words.

"Thank you, Kathy. It means a lot."

"Remember Colonel Lodge at San Diego State? He held your father in great esteem. He's got one hell of a sea story about him from when they were on the PACOM staff."

Josh remembered Dad coming home from Westpac in 1975, right after the fall of Vietnam, and getting booted back to San Diego and finishing his shore tour with COMNAVSURFPAC. Even at 10 years old, he'd known something had gone very wrong.

"Care to share?"

"Not really--you should hear it from General Lodge instead of me. When you meet him, ask."

"When, not if?"

Kathy said, "Josh, I'm not going to lie to you. General Lodge would like to recruit you into the Air Force. He's got a potential assignment--it's highly classified, I can't talk about it outside a SCIF--and you need to be medically released before he can do that. I'm not tied to that--I'm here because I want to be with a friend, and to be here for you."

Josh nodded. Something in the way she'd said that touched his heart.

"Thank you. And I want to be here for you, as well."

Kathy gave him a radiant smile.

They took their wine to the couch and continued reminiscing.

Eventually, Josh opened up about meeting Roberta again, loving her--and losing her.

"Josh . . . all you can do is try to avoid doing that again. Wish her some happiness, and trust that the fates will determine if you should be back together--and if that is their will, promise yourself you'll do better." Kathy smiled, then said, "Do that right now."

Josh took a sip of wine, then said, "All right. God, or whoever . . . please bless Roberta. Protect her from harm, and grant her peace. If it's your will that we reunite, give me the wisdom to do the right thing by her, whatever that may be."

Kathy leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "That was perfect."

They talked of their respective wars. Kathy spoke in general terms of being a human intelligence operator--but Josh knew that she'd experiences something awful.

In turn, Josh told her of his experiences.

As evening fell, Kathy looked at him and smiled.

"Remember when I accidentally shoved my boobs in your face?"

Josh felt his face heating up.

"Oh, Josh, you're so cute when you blush!"

Josh reached to put his glass on the coffee table--and his back went into spasm.

"Josh, you OK?"

"Cramp in my back."

She felt his back and said, "Holy crap, you've got massive knots all up and down your back. This way."

Kathy stood and led him to the bedroom. "Let's get that shirt off, you need a backrub."

"You sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes. Now get your shirt off, Josh."

She had him lay down on the bed, then straddled his hips and began touching the knots, then began working her thumb into the lowest one.

Fiery pain lanced along his deltoid, and then it went away as the muscle loosened. This went on for about twenty minutes, then Kathy rose and said, "Turn over, please."

Josh rolled over to find Kathy had taken off her t-shirt and bra.

"I'm very deliberately shoving my boobs in your face this time, Josh."

She undid his belt.

"Uh . . . Kathy?"

She bent down and kissed him. "Just be with me, Josh."

* * *

26 June 1987
Williams Air Force Base, AZ

Roberta stepped off the C-130 and walked into the terminal.

A major in Army service greens met her. "Lieutenant Kreider? Major Klein, Public Affairs. I'm here about your assignment."

"I was told I was being assigned to the South Pacific Division of the Corps of Engineers."

"That's correct."

"So, what does PAO have to do with this?"

"It's regarding your . . . fiancée."

Roberta was mildly amused as Klein stumbled over the word. The notion that an attractive woman might wish to permanently share her life with another attractive woman was utterly foreign to him.

"What about her? She's Cav branch."

"She's here, assigned to Sixth Army rear while she finishes her rehab."

Roberta said, "Sir, could you just tell me what's going on?"

* * *

26 June 1987
HQ, Fifth Army (Rear)
Grand Island, NE

Lieutenant General Shawn Franklin, the G-1 for Fifth Army, looked over the award package again. He reviewed the witness statements in detail, checking for unexplained inconsistencies or impossibilities. Satisfied that there were none, he reread the transcripts of radio traffic. He looked over a large map of the battle area.

Dear God, they had next to no covering terrain, but they sure as hell used all of what they had. And she was only the acting company commander.

Satisfied, he collated the documents, placed them in the folder, stood up, and walked from his office to General Schwartzkopf's.

Lieutenant Colonel Bowman picked up the phone and said, "Sir, General Franklin is here."

Bowman looked at Franklin and said, "Go right in, sir, you're expected."

Franklin walked in, keeping his demeanor low key.

Schwartzkopf asked, "Why so dour, Shawn?"

"Sir . . . this award package . . . well, you have to show appropriate respect at this level. It's . . . a privilege, really."

Schwartzkopf nodded.

"Sir, she was ready to give the last full measure of devotion. The difference between her life and death was maybe twenty seconds."

"I know, Shawn. And?"

"Sir . . . it was in the highest traditions of the United States Army. And it was, as you said, one hell of a piece of soldiering. I recommend favorable endorsement."

Schwartzkopf opened the folder, went down the tabs, and found the proposed award text.

"The President takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to First Lieutenant Helen C. Zangas, Army of the United States, for services as set forth in the following Citation . . . "

[Matt Wiser]

Well done. I think this is the first story where Schwartzkopf has appeared as a character instead of being mentioned in an in-story news broadcast.

[jemhouston]

Well, two people are happening that fate denied, which means two other won't. Happy and sad. Sam Lodge is working is voodoo.

[Eaglenine2]

Question I thought Divisional Cavalry Squadrons equipped with M3 don't have M901?

[Johnnie Lyle]

Question I thought Divisional Cavalry Squadrons equipped with M3 don't have M901?

Why give them up if you have them?

[Poohbah]

Question I thought Divisional Cavalry Squadrons equipped with M3 don't have M901?

In general, yes. All of the Quarter Cav's troops were plus-upped that day from the Corps Reserve because the corps commander was convinced Third Shock Army was out there, looking to flank him (and he was right).

[Poohbah]

29 June 1987
Vandenberg Air Force Base

Barzanian entered Lodge's office and shut the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Whatever you did . . . well, it's working. Doc Tulloch says they're beginning to make progress."

Barzanian smiled slightly.

Lodge picked up on something in her eyes. "What's troubling you?"

"Sir . . . I didn't expect . . . " She sighed, then looked off into the distance in silence.

Finally, she said, "Sir . . . I may be falling in love with him."

Lodge sat back in his chair. "You seem to think that's some sort of problem."

"Leaving aside the fraternization issue once we're released--"

"If he accepts my offer, that won't be an issue. And I believe he will. He's a fine young man, Gadarene. There are far worse people to fall for. Leaving aside purely military issues, what is bothering you?"

Barzanian stared at her mentor. "You approve?"

"Now, I have no right to approve or disapprove of your personal life. You're a grown woman, able to make her own choices. That said . . . my comments stand. He's a good person. I'm just trying to understand what you're afraid of."

"His heart belongs to another woman. Roberta Kreider."

"Perhaps. Kathy . . . people fall in love, and they fall in love with more than one person. I've sincerely loved several women, I married two, and I've vowed to never marry again because I'm just awful husband material. I still love both of my exes, even though there's no way in hell we can--or, more importantly, should--reunite. Josh may find room in his heart for you. Or not. But don't let the latter stop you from loving him. I suspect he might be falling in love with you, as well. You have a lot of tenderness in you, no matter how hard you try to hide it. You're showing him that tender side--and it's what he needs most right now."

Lodge glanced at the clock, and said, "Get out of here, you're going to be late for your appointment with Doctor Brush."

"Yes, sir." Barzanian smiled. "Thank you, sir, for setting my head straight."

"De nada."

* * *

Doctor Tulloch looked over her notes.

"Josh . . . I'm giving you some homework tonight. Before you go to dinner . . . head over to the chapel. I want you to light a candle for your parents, and take some time to pray. And I want you to say, in prayer, whatever comes to mind that you think you need to say to your father. Assume that he's listening; you once believed that, perhaps you can believe it for the moment."

* * *

Josh lit a candle and prayed the requiem prayer.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of all the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

He then considered his next words.

Dad . . . I never rejected you. I just rejected the path you thought I should be on. I had no idea what the path I was supposed to be on was, but I knew I wasn't cut out for the Navy. I am thankful for the lessons you taught me, that helped me survive this far.

Please don't worry about me. You have more than earned your rest from your labors. I love you, and I will do my best to honor your memory by being the best man and leader that I can be.

* * *

29 June 1987
Bachelor Officer Quarters
Williams Air Force Base, AZ

Zangas got back to her room to find her roommate, 1st Lieutenant Lisa Haiman, clearing out.

"Hey, Lisa, did you get reassigned?"

"Not really. I'm just moving to another room in the BOQ."

"Was it something I said?"

Lisa smiled. "Oh, good heavens, no. It's just . . . well, you'll understand in a few minutes."

Zangas watched Lisa bustle out and quietly wondered what the hell had been going on. She was working in the Training shop at Sixth Army, sharing her lessons learned from a year and change on the Great Plains, and doing physical therapy sessions for her leg, which was at maybe 85%. She wasn't planning on running any marathons in the near future; mostly, it was a matter of strengthening the leg and relearning how to use it.

She heard someone inserting a key in the door lock.

The door opened, and a cheery voice said, "Hi, roomie!"

Ohmygawd

And then Helen was embracing and kissing Roberta.

* * *

Roberta looked around the room. Uniform articles were scattered here and there, Helen's panties were hanging off of the bed post, and both of their bras had managed to land on the television set.

Helen snuggled next to her, and Roberta got a good look at her left leg. The sutures were out, but there'd been some ugly scarring--she'd heard that there'd been a post-op infection.

Who cares? She's still beautiful, and she's the one I love.

Helen caressed Roberta's right hip with her left hand. "Don't think that I'm done ravishing you, Roberta."

Roberta stuck her tongue out.

"Promises, promises."

Roberta rolled onto her side. "Promises that I intend to keep, darling."

"So, how did you get assigned here?"

"Beats me. They want me to help figure out how to keep the recently liberated folk of Albuquerque from freezing to death this winter. And Army Public Affairs is involved, and they're interested in both of us."

Helen rolled onto her back. "Oh, hell. I have an idea of what's going on."

Roberta asked, "What is it?"

"Well, when Stormin' Norman Himself told me that what I accomplished was one hell of a piece of soldiering, that should have told me something, but I was still on bed rest while they finished fixing the leg and recuperating from the infection. Darling, you are about to be the wife of an Official Hero."

"Helen, I am about to be your wife. I love you. Whether or not you're an official hero."

Helen smiled and said, "Thank you for reminding me of that."

* * *

Eventually, they showered and dressed for dinner, and headed down to the bus stop.

Roberta looked across the road at a collection of abandoned van trailers, marked variously "MAG-11" and "MAG-13" in crude spray paint. "What are those?"

"Word is that the Marines left them when they moved forward. Apparently some sort of electronics repair facility, designed to be packed up and moved, those were apparently not serviceable."

As the bus made its way to the Officer's Club, Roberta saw a pile of empty shipping containers.

And she said, "I think i just found a solution to my problem at work."


* * *

4927th Rehabilitation Wing
Vandenberg AFB, CA

The rehab wing had its own MWR complex, with a "no-ranks" club that allowed patients to interact with each other outside of military protocol.

Josh was debating whether to eat at the quick buffet or to order a proper meal when he saw Kathy waving him over.

Proper dinner it is.

"Good evening, Kathy. May I join you?"

She gave him a delighted smile. "That sounds delightful."

It being Meatless Monday, they opted for the California Meatless Burrito--pico de gallo, sour cream, guacamole, shredded cheddar and jack cheese, jalapeno peppers, crisp spicy carrots, and fries.

"Josh, these people are every bit as good as El Indio." She smiled. "Everything they do except the tamales is perfect."

"What's wrong with the tamales?"

"Josh, tamales are like machine guns. The only proper way to buy them is out of the trunk of a car without the government knowing."

Josh laughed . . . and found himself surprised at the laughter.

Kathy sipped her wine. "Felt good, didn't it?"

Josh nodded.

* * *

They were walking in the late afternoon golden light.

Josh gestured south, past one of the space launch complexes. "Out there on the coast is Honda Point. Dad took me there on a camping trip once."

"What's special about it?"

"Well, it's also known as 'Destroyer Rock' and 'The Devil's Jaw.' The worst peacetime loss of Navy ships happened there in 1923. Seven destroyers played follow-the-leader right onto the rocks."

"Kind of a morbid place to go for a camping trip."

"Dad was trying to explain to me that responsibility is something we accept just by living. Even if I go climb a tree in Oregon and hunt wild game with a spear, just check out from civilization . . . I'm still responsible for whatever I do. If I despoil the environment, if I kill too many deer, whatever, it's on me, and the consequences will be on my head. The division flagship was handling navigation, and the squadron commodore just took the full responsibility on himself. He made decisions that led directly to the event--full wartime conditions for steaming, and asking too much of the navigation team given the conditions."

Kathy put an arm around Josh. "Your father was trying to make a man out of you. And he succeeded."

They made their way back to the bus stop and rode back to Kathy's apartment.

* * *

29 June 1987
HQ US Army

Major Stephanie Hummel, JAG Corps, read the CID background investigation report on Helen Zangas and forced back revulsion.

This woman is a degenerate slut.

Multiple partners, both male and female--things that would have gotten her thrown out before the war--and the latest was that she was planning to "marry" another such degenerate under California's new laws permitting "civil unions."

This is intolerable. She gets lucky on the battlefield, and they're going to make the Medal a Gay Pride tchotke.

On her way home, she made a green horizontal chalk mark on a specific wall without breaking her stride.

[Wolfman]

Uh-oh, I think this person might just be a mole…

[Johnnie Lyle]

Barzanian is right, that is the only way to get tamales. (OOC, prior to California legalizing small business kitchens, we had a black market tamale ring that involved slipping the secretaries $20, secretly picking up your tamales in the storage closet, and smuggling them out the back door to your car).

The good major needs a reminder that the people she despises shed our blood just as readily as anyone else for our country and people who need us, and it’s a damn sight more red, white and blue than that flowing in her Commie traitor ass.

[Poohbah]

Uh-oh, I think this person might just be a mole…

Oh, that's obvious.

The question is, for whom?

[jemhouston]

Uh-oh, I think this person might just be a mole…

Whack a mole time

[Poohbah]

20 July 1987
AFSPACE HQ (Alternate)
Vandenberg AFB

Mantell strode up to the access control point and presented his ID.

"Gunnery Sergeant Mantell, I have an appointment with Captain Falcone."

After a quick but thorough check of his ID against the access roster, the Air Police officer handed him an ID badge marked "ESCORT REQUIRED" and picked up the phone. "Sir, your 0900 appointment is here."

A minute or so later, a tall, trim Air Force Captain came up to the access point, checked Mantell's ID for himself, and said, "This way, please, Gunny."

"Aye aye, sir."

Falcone led him down the hall to a conference room guarded by another Air Police officer, who likewise verified Mantell's identity and access, then made a "this way" gesture to usher him into the conference room.

At the table were General Bueller, whom Josh remembered from El Toro, and General Samuel Lodge, whom he remembered as the ROTC commander at San Diego State while he was at Patrick Henry; Lodge had made the rounds of all the schools, talking up the Air Force as a career choice.

Mantell snapped to attention. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, Gunny." Lodge smacked the table in front of the chair across from Bueller. "Get over here and have a seat, we've got a lot to cover."

Bueller smacked a folder into the table. "All right. First, you now have a Top Secret clearance. Sign these, please."

Mantell opened the folder and signed on the lines that had been marked.

"Second, this is a read-in on special compartment SCREAMING FIST. Sign, and we can start this briefing."

Mantell signed the document, and handed them to Bueller, who in turn handed them to Lodge.

"Gunny...you've done a lot for America already. All I can ask is that you consider doing more. HQMC has a bullseye on your back. I came off second best over some interservice politics, and anyone who is known to be on my short list is getting blackballed. And that includes you. I want you to consider General Lodge's proposal. Don't be quick to accept; it's very demanding work. But I think you would excel at it."

Lodge said, "Thanks, Kevin."

With that, Bueller left the room. Once the door was closed, Lodge said, "All right, Gunny. Here's the low-down on SCREAMING FIST."

* * *

"Damn, this isn't a new startup, it's been running for how long?"

"First missions were about a year ago. I'm not going to lie, we had some unpleasant surprises. But one of our operators figured out the root cause and then figured a way to play it back on Ivan."

"Smart operator."

"Indeed. Someone you know, by the way."

"Who, sir?"

"Sophie Henrix."

"Wait. Sophie is a snake eater?"

"Yes. A damn good one, too. You might end up working for her if you're lucky.

* * *

"All right, Mantell. Take a week to think about it, then call me with your answer." Lodge handed over a business card with a phone number written on the back.

* * *

Back at the rehab wing, Josh changed back into casual attire and went to his next counseling appointment.

Doctor Tulloch said, "I want to talk about your relationship with Roberta."

"Not much to say, Doc. We had a fight--a big one. I love her . . . but I screwed up, maybe beyond any chance of ever salvaging it. If I ever see her again, I guess my first order of business is to apologize for not listening to her concerns and beg her forgiveness."

"That's a lot of introspection. Honestly, a lot more than I was expecting, considering your admission report."

Josh blushed.

"I'm . . . in a relationship. She happens to know both of us--she was an ambassador for Air Force ROTC at our school, and she was a part time TA as well. She's gotten me to think some. I've been making my peace with some things."

Tulloch nodded. "I see. Well, I happen to know who you're dating, she lives in my complex. For what it's worth, she seems to be improving as well."

Josh was quiet for a.moment, then asked, "Is it too much for me to say that I love her?"

Tulloch shook her head. "Not at all. You've obviously had some serious discussions with her. Intimacy isn't just a matter of getting naked and into bed. It's about sharing those things that we instinctively hold close to us, and realizing that you can trust the other to keep those things in confidence. That can happen in one conversation at a coffee shop. You knew each other before the war, and now you are clinging to each other and supporting each other in a very dark moment of human history. You're giving each other a most precious gift--hope. Love is a natural outcome of this kind of sharing. I would have been really worried if you didn't love her on some level, it would be a sign of deeper pathologies."

Tulloch scribbled some notes, then said, "I want you two to take a week together, away from Vandenberg. Being on your own outside of the structure of the rehab program will help you understand if this is just a transient thing, or if you can build something that will last."

* * *

20 July 1987
Chapel of the Bells
South Lake Tahoe, CA

They were both in Class As, wearing slacks in deference to the scar on Helen's left leg.

The minister said, "Please face each other and join hands."

"Do you, Helen, take Roberta to be your lawful wedded wife, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Do you, Roberta, take Helen to be your lawful wedded wife, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Repeat after me: "I, Helen, take you, Roberta, to be my wife . . . "

"I, Helen, take you Roberta, to be my wife . . . "

"To have and to hold from this day forward . . . "

"For better, for worse . . . "

"For richer, for poorer . . . "

"In sickness and in health . . . "

"To love and cherish, until death do us part."

Roberta repeated the vows.

Helen then took the ring from the assistant and said, "I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love." She slid the ring onto Roberta's finger.

Roberta did the same.

"By virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you wife and wife." He turned to Helen. "You may kiss the bride."

They kissed for a long moment.

* * *

Back in their vacation condo, Roberta changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and said, "I'm renting a bike to head to Raley's."

"What for?"

Roberta smiled. "I need to buy groceries for the first meals I shall prepare for my beloved wife."

"Ah. In that case, could you pick up some Tide so I might do our laundry, so that we are balanced in our domesticity?"

Roberta kissed Helen and said, "Of course."

* * *

Roberta savored the evergreen scent of Helen's hair as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

20 July 1987
Monterey, California

"Ever been here, Josh?"

"Yeah, but I was too young to remember it. Dad went to the Postgraduate School right after I was born, got a Master's in Industrial Management."

They were walking along North Fremont Street, savoring the cool breeze coming in from the ocean as evening fell.

Josh looked at Kathy, who looked back and smiled. "You keep looking at me like . . . "

She paused.

Josh waited.

"Like you want to say something."

Josh considered this for a moment, then said, "Kathy . . . I love you."

He heard a gasp, followed by, "Josh . . . we need to talk."

* * *

Back in their room, Kathy asked, "OK, where to start?"

Josh looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and she laughed. "Oh, that's a rhetorical question. OK, first off: I am not the perfect woman."

Josh said, "Nobody's perfect, not even the perfect fool."

"And he quotes Huey Lewis." Kathy giggled, then said, "Look, you need to know some things about me. I'm . . . well, I'm an intelligence operative. I've gotten up, eaten a sensible breakfast, and then gone out to get people to betray their country, I've committed assassinations, bombings . . . you name it."

"Different battlefield, same war."

Kathy blinked. "It's that simple to you?"

"Kathy, you think I like fighting a damn war? If I ever found myself enjoying this damn war, I'd turn myself in at the rehab wing and tell them I've really lost my damn marbles. War is ugly. It's supposed to be. You're doing your part."

"Sometimes, it involves sleeping with the enemy. Or worse."

She told Josh of getting raped by a Belgian cabinet member--just to get it on tape.

Josh was quiet for a moment, then said, "When I accept the job offer, I'll ask General Lodge to put her on my to-do list."

"Josh . . . we in the intelligence community like to be subtle."

Josh smiled. "I don't. I want everyone to know that it was a pissed-off gringo that killed her."

"I thought you didn't like this sort of thing."

"I don't, which is why I want to send a message. A sufficiently brutal execution lets her buddies know it's time to come to Jesus."

Kathy stared at him and said, "Damn, you can be simultaneously hot with passion and a cold-blooded bastard."

"Not arguing that, because I can't. Guilty as charged. I'm not the perfect guy, either, remember."

She broke down sobbing on his shoulder.

* * *

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

Kathy started. "Huh?"

"I mean, you said some things, and we talked about one thing."

"All right. Fair warning: I'm bisexual. Before the war, I kept my indiscretions at least 100 miles from the flagpole."

"Aside from when you hit on Roberta."

"Oh, dear God, she told you?"

"Well, after I told her about you trying to elicit a reaction from me. I figured you were doing something for your psychology degree."

"Um . . . actually, it was for Uncle Samuel. General Lodge."

Josh looked at her, quietly shocked. "Do tell!"

"You remember Adam Lodge?"

"We've been friends since we met at CCD--Catholic religious education--in 1976. We were altar boys together, we were friends in high school."

"Well . . . we were assessing his associates. Looking for people who might be a problem."

"Why?"

"He's now an intelligence operative."

"Figures. All right. So you were pushing the envelope a bit. I can see why, honestly. War was coming. Remember, we lost a few people at Henry when the Frontistas bombed that nightclub in TJ in '82."

Kathy blinked. "You're awfully blase."

"Like I said . . . the only guy who got surprised was Olaf Mondale."

They laughed at the joke from the 1984 campaign.

"All right. But I do enjoy women as sexual and even romantic partners. Mostly, Uncle Sam told me to just be careful. Sometimes, he's used it."

"Okay. Kathy, I need you to know something: I don't lay a claim of ownership on you at this time. Or ever. The man who thinks he owns a woman is a damn fool. Until we're committed to marriage--and I'm not doing that with anyone until the war is over--what you do is your business. That said, I love you."

Kathy was silent for a long time.

"And then there's 'cover for status.' When I'm working as an operative, I might need to have a romantic relationship with a target, or with a third party to avoid suspicion."

"We do all kinds of things we don't want to do for America, Kathy. Still, I love you."

She collapsed against his chest. "And I love you."

* * *

27 July 1987
4927th Rehabilitation Wing
Vandenberg AFB, CA

Mantell was lying on a platform that was sliding into the MRI chamber.

The operator said, "All right. Without using any of the mindfulness techniques you've learned, I need you to relax your body and just kind of let yourself rest, just like you did for your baseline."

Mantell let his limbs rest naturally, and let his mind wander.

A minute or so later, the operator said, "Very good. Now, apply your mindfulness techniques over the next few minutes, please."

Josh focused on triangular breathing--in, natural pause, out--in five second increments, and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the sensations of the platform underneath him.

After a few minutes, the operator said, "Good."

* * *

The neurologist pointed to the baseline image. "You see that blotch that looks like Italy if you squint a little?"

"Yeah."

"That, Mantell, was our big worry. It was a sign that a couple of important parts in your brain were shutting down." He then gestured to the middle image. "It's gone here." He then tapped the third. "And when you're consciously practicing mindfulness, that lovely blue shade throughout the region is a sign that you're able to shed stress efficiently. We're rating you as ready for assignment."

"Thank you."

* * *

27 July 1987
Philadelphia, PA

Ekaterina Sidorova, also known as Kate Jensen, saw the green horizontal chalk mark and made a mental note of its location, then returned to her surveillance detection route. Playing Comrades and Capitalists with the FBI was a full-time job in wartime Philly, much more so than when she'd run the maze in DC before the war.

* * *

"I saw that green mark again during today's run."

Her handler, whom she knew only as "Mark," said, "It's not ours. The Center wants you to see if you can find out who it is--on a not-to-interfere basis, of course."

"Of course."

* * *

The diner was busy.

Stephanie Hummel ate her vegetarian omelette and listened to her handler. "First, Zangas was lucky. But everyone I've talked to said she's the real deal as a cav troop commander. She fought her troop right to the limit, and the result was the Big Red One smashed right into a weakened Category 1 Division while 2nd ACR swung around with 3rd Armored Division and hit Third Shock Army's right flank, and that was the ballgame. The Medal will go through in due time. We have our people getting ready to use this, and our so-called friends are getting set up to take the fall. We will have our revenge. On everyone."

Hummel nodded. "Of course, sir."

[jemhouston]

Revenge is funny, you think you have it all planned out, only to find out you're the Coyote in a WB cartoon with a boulder about to crush you.

[Poohbah]

28 July 1987
4927th Rehabilitation Wing
Vandenberg AFB, CA

Josh awoke in the darkness of his room.

Sometime after he'd fallen asleep, or before he'd woken up, Kathy had left quietly.

He sat up and turned on the bedside light. On the nightstand was a blue envelope.

He opened it and read the note.

Sireli,

i know you're off to Bragg today. Safe travels.

This past month was a real turning point in my life. You've made me feel alive for the first time in over a year. I don't know where life is going to take either of us, and this isn't a good time to be making long-term plans . . . but I'm also utterly unworried. Once you accept that God's calling the shots and not yourself, it's so much easier.

If our paths cross again during this war, well, the only reason I'd kick you out of my bed is if there's more room on the floor. And should we both survive this war . . . I'll be there, ready to share my life with yours, if you want.

Be careful, Josh. Please come back alive and whole.

Until we see each other again.

Love,

Kathy

* * *

28 July 1987
Emergency Reconstruction Office
South Pacific Division
Army Corps of Engineers
WIlliams AFB, AZ

"Master Sergeant Hoffman?"

The Red Horse section leader said, "Ready, ma'am!"

She punched the timer on her Casio watch. "Go!"

Within minutes, the plasma cutters were biting into two shipping containers, quickly slicing off marked sections. As soon as one section fell away, the welder operating the plasma cutter cut away from the rest of the crew and attacked the next problem.

Within two hours, all four containers had their major cuts in place, and had been pushed together and precisely aligned. The two original welders turned to welding the containers together, and were joined by four more, two of whom were welding removed pieces to replace the trailer doors.

Once the join welds were done, other teams moved in, bolting ceilings and partitions into place, installing window and door frames, putting in drywall, and filling the void spaces with insulation.

At the six-hour mark, Roberta called, "TIME!"

She walked through the containers, seeing where the major elements would go in her mind's eye as she carefully inspected the welds and the installation elements.

Roberta smiled at Hoffman. "Well done to your team. They got it done well within the schedule and it's perfect."

Hoffman nodded. "The plan is simple enough, ma'am. You did good with that."

* * *

"Gentlemen, a grand total of 28 man-hours, starting from four raw shipping containers and pre-fabricated panels. It's ready for the electricians and plumbers, then the fixtures. Flooring is the last piece. Once completed, we have 1,000 square feet usable floor area with two bedrooms, kitchen, bath, living room, and adequate windows and ventilation. We can seal the exterior with resin, then apply ceramic coatings that resemble stucco--even put in a skip-trowel texture. We can install an angled roof to allow snow to come off. Total man-hours required and timeline once the learning curve has been met by each crew are in Enclosure 1."

An older man in a loose-fitting suit said, "Great. How many shipping containers can we get for our use, and how much will they cost?"

"We have typically around 4 million TEUs coming in from Asia per year. The containers have been getting dumped here and there in the Southwest--it's actually becoming a national problem. One house uses 8 TEUs, we've got about 10 million lying around. Building these container houses will solve two problems in one go, sir."

The man stared at her for a long moment, then said, "And she comes up with a win-win solution, to boot."

* * *

18 August 1987
Fort Bragg, NC

"Are we all ready for jump week?"

"YES, SERGEANT AIRBORNE!"

Mantell felt a quiet excitement. Ground week had been a bunch of PT, but he'd already been training hard knowing this was coming; he'd maxed out the Army PFT with ludicrous ease, then turned around after handing in his bib and run back to encourage the stragglers.

He forced himself to not think about where many of these men and women were going to be in only a couple of months.

Tower week had been . . . fun. Then again, the towers had started off as fair rides.

Now, he was being truly tested.

And he felt . . . at peace.

* * *

"GREEN LIGHT! GO-GO-GO!"

The chalk started making its way to the exit, each trooper getting told "GO!" in turn.

Mantell was the senior NCO student, and he was 11th in the chalk.

He stepped smartly into place. After a second or so, he was told, "GO!" and smacked on the butt.

He stepped into the doorway, holding his body rigid, and out he went over Salerno Drop Zone.

The 'chute opened as expected, and he was floating downward. He steered into the wind, and even found a brief few seconds to enjoy the ride.

Soon enough, he was on the ground, rolling through the parachute landing fall and collapsing his 'chute. He double-timed to the waiting bus.

A Navy Seal Second Class Petty Officer took one look at Mantell and laughed. "LOOK AT THAT S***-EATING GRIN, LADIES! ARE WE A HAPPY STUDENT THERE, GUNNY?"

"YES, PETTY OFFICER AIRBORNE!"

"OUTSTANDING!"

* * *

Master Chief Radioman (Special Warfare) Sanders pinned on Mantell's wings. "Congratulations, Gunny."

"Thank you, Chief."

"Where you off to?"

"Free fall."

"Oh, that's a piece of cake to get to, their schoolhouse is right across the street from our admin building. Make me proud, Gunny."

"I will, Master Chief."

* * *

September 23rd, 1987
Fort Bragg, NC

"So, Gunny, you're freefall qualified?"

"Yes, Sergeant Major."

"Good. Welcome to the really bad part of your time at Bragg: SERE."

"I already did SERE out at Warner Springs."

"Consider this the graduate course in torture."

"Aye aye, Sergeant Major."

* * *

September 24th, 1987
Philadelphia, PA

Hummel went through the stack of personnel folders and associated clearance investigations slowly. She couldn't say for sure what she was looking for; she just knew that she'd recognize it.

Well, this one looks interesting.

She glanced at the name on the file: MCVEIGH, TIMOTHY J.

She started taking notes, careful to remove each page from her notepad before writing on it.

McVeigh, Timothy J. Drafted into the Army in 1986, Bradley Gunner in the 1st Infantry Division. Apparently encountered 1LT Zangas at Sacajawea Maneuver Area, received a letter of reprimand in his record jacket for inappropriate conduct toward her, required to formally apologize--might be able to use that. Reputation for some degree of racism, has bounced around 1st ID because he's a bit of a problem child.

She set the file aside and continued working through the pile.

[Matt Wiser]

Uh-oh.... Him. This mole's got something cooking. And it ain't her Grandma's old meat loaf recipe.

[jemhouston]

Hummel is about to get pummeled.