The Vaults of Heaven (AU)

[Wolfman]

You’re saying that she (Holly McClane) was a Russian agent?

[Poohbah]

You’re saying that she (Holly McClane) was a Russian agent?

She's no blushing virgin, unless she's too stupid to live anyway.

[jemhouston]

You’re saying that she (Holly McClane) was a Russian agent?

She's no blushing virgin, unless she's too stupid to live anyway.

How about she was a classmate of Elizabeth Jennings?

I know the Warsaw Pack NOC agents had guerilla warfare mission once the war started. I know the Official Cover agents had to stay in place and die to avoid tipping the US off. I'm wondering if they would chance tipping off the NOC agents to get out of the area for a few days.

[Kendog52361]

...and then he gets a package in the mail: his estranged wife's personnel file.

In Cyrillic.

But, would he believe it, or would he think it's an attempt to "smear her beyond the grave", and just drive him, harder, to find those responsible?

[Poohbah]

15 June 1989
Task Force ACHERNAR Headquarters
Williams AFB, AZ

The briefing was succinct; TV stations in the Tijuana-Tecate and Mexicali markets were off the air, transmitter sites bombed into rubble, and replaced by Univision on the same channels. Air strikes were hitting regime security targets.

And things were heating up.

Downing looked around the table. "The ball is in motion, ladies and gentlemen. Any saved rounds, by-the-ways, that sort of thing?"

Mantell, sitting along the wall, raised his hand.

"What's on your mind, Chief?"

"Sir, we have some sniper teams available for use. Permission to look into getting seats at the Sixth Army Sniper Employment Course for the operations staff, sir?"

Downing's knife hand said, "Good idea. Do that, please."

"Yes, sir." Mantell quickly X'd out the question mark on Sniper Employment Course? and wrote under it: Get seats.

Downing then turned to the SEAL who was acting as the J-1 and said, "Commander Price, call the Stockade at Bragg and ask them--as nicely as possible, of course--if they could send a few experts on using snipers to make sure we don't do anything fatally stupid with their people until our own are schooled and they get some hands-on training.

"Aye aye, sir."

* * *

19 June 1989
Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

There was a knock at the door.

Roberta set down the copy of Architecture magazine she'd been reading and went to the door.

It was Jeanna. She held up a bottle of Macallan whiskey. "I heard Helen's got the duty, and so does Debs." She paused, then said, "And I need to talk to you."

"Come on in."

Roberta broke out tumblers, and Jeanna poured three fingers apiece.

They sipped. Roberta watched as Jeanna steeled herself.

"Roberta . . . I love Debs with all my heart." She sighed. "And I love Josh, too."

Roberta nodded. "I understand."

Jeanna looked at Roberta and nodded. "Yeah, you do. And he's going to give away Debs to me, so that we may love, honor, and cherish each other . . . and we want babies by him."

Roberta sipped her whiskey, then said, "Same here. So does Helen, by the way; she wants him to give her children to love and raise . . . to make this pain we've been through actually mean something, to do part of her role in rebuilding America."

Jeanna raised her eyebrows. "That's exactly how Debs put it."

"If you're looking for permission, it's not mine to give."

"I know you have Josh's heart."

Roberta laughed. "Oh, dear Lord. I have a piece of it. And so do you--he really does love you and Debs, he's just afraid to really say it after losing Kathy. And he loves Helen--in part because she loves me, and partly because she took the lead on helping him grieve. And somehow, we've made him into an ethical slut--you know he won't sleep with just you alone any more?"

Jeanna snorted. "Found that out the hard way. Dear Lord, that was an embarrassing moment." She took another swallow, then asked, "Can I ask how you guys met?"

"First day of eleventh grade, Marvelous Marv's chemistry class. He was this incredibly shy sophomore--for which I'm eternally grateful. If he'd had any game in talking with women, I would've been knocked up by Christmas break."

They shared a laugh.

* * *

Jeanna almost choked on her whiskey.

"Helen actually said she wanted to be a sister-wife to you and Josh? What, with the long skirts and the bonnets and everything?"

"Helen wouldn't be caught dead in that. Well, this side of motherhood, at least. I have a feeling she'll become a no-kidding prude when she has her first baby."

"When."

Roberta nodded. "When. For both of us."

"With Josh."

"He's the only man I'd open myself to that completely. Helen's pretty much the same way. She summed it up; he's a force of nature. After loving him . . . it's almost as if any other man would be . . . unworthy."

Jeanna nodded. "Simon was like that for me as well. And then he died at 71 Northing . . . I was . . . it's hard to explain."

"Part of you died with him."

Jeanna blinked. "You understand!"

"For a while . . . I thought Josh was dead, and even worse, my last words to him were driven by pure, unadulterated rage. So I grieved, and chastised myself as a fool. Part of me died. And then I made a decision that only goes one way. And your heart made that same decision with Debs . . . even as you were feeling that spark erupting into fire again with Josh."

Jeanna nodded. "And Josh is so much like Simon. Well read, but keenly aware there's so much more to know, passionate but logical, strong but gentle."

"Damn it, quit reminding me. You're making me want him all over again."

"I dunno. Maybe handle him like a timeshare? Each of us puts up a dowry and we get him on a rotating basis?"

Roberta laughed. "Tempting idea, actually. But do you really think Josh would go for that?"

"Banging four smoking hot and horny women on the regular? Every red-blooded man's dream. And you know how good he is in bed."

Roberta said, "Actually, I don't. Care to give me a play by play?"

Jeanna's jaw dropped open. After a moment, she said. "Roberta, I'm an asshole--"

"No . . . I was a coward. I wanted to be swept off my feet . . . because I didn't want uncertainty, I didn't want to risk rejection. When it comes to men, I am a blushing virgin. There's still a part of me that, even as much as I'd love to take him to bed, is utterly terrified of ever sleeping with him . . . terrified that I'd give up Helen if he asked me to."

"Dear God, honey, he'd never do that."

Jeanna downed what was left of her whiskey, contemplated what was left in the bottle, and said, "Uh . . . Roberta, how many drinks have you had?"

"I quit after the third."

"Jesus, then I've had four. I am going to be hurting tomorrow morning."

"And you're going to be hurting on the couch in the living room. No arguing. You're too wasted to drive."

"Yeah. Roberta?"

"What?"

"Write this down. Remember this. All four of us need to get together this week to discuss our plans after the war. Especially our plans for Josh."

"Ever consider that Josh is going to have his own plans?"

"He does, and I know some of them. First, he's going to college on the Air Force's dime. So, how do we exploit that? Captain Kreider-Zangas, draft me a FRAGO by the 23rd. Remind me tomorrow to write up a formal Estimate of the Situation like we're attending Command & Staff."

Roberta snapped a Benny Hill salute with her left hand. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Good girl."

[jemhouston]

You either plan life or life plans you. I just hope God won't laugh at them

[Poohbah]

30 June 1989
Ensenada, Baja California

Master Sergeant Esteban Ruiz was preternaturally still. The view down to the beach villa was clear in the morning twilight. The walls of the room were lined with dense urethane foam he'd recovered from a closed discotheque about a mile up the beach. He was on a platform five and a half feet off of the floor, weapon aimed at a 1-inch hole cut in the window. He wore a bottle-green DSF major's uniform.

Ruiz smiled as he contemplated how the room had been turned into a gigantic suppressor. The only person who could hear anything would be dead before the sound reached him.

Normally, he'd be shooting a Research Armament Industries 300 chambered in 8.58x71mm or .300 Winchester Magnum, but the constraints of this mission required him to carry a Dragunov SVD. His had received the careful attention of Delta Force's gunsmiths, and the round in the chamber, though marked as Soviet 7N1 sniper ammunition, was manufactured in Fenix, North Carolina to exacting tolerances for dimensions and weights of cartridge, bullet, and powder. What had been a 1.8 MOA rifle was now down to 1.01 MOA.

The rest of the ammunition in the magazine was standard Soviet sniper issue.

Ruiz considered the situation one more time. Range to target: 660 yards. Bullet drop: 47.7 inches, 650 meters dialed into the scope.

His spotter, Sergeant First Class Maria Fernandez, stiffened slightly behind the ZRT 460 spotting scope.

Ruiz spoke softly in Spanish. "What have you got?"

"Movement in the bedroom."

About a minute later, Fernandez said, "He just stepped out of the bedroom. Looks like a gray suit."

"On it."

A Mercedes rolled up in front of the villa.

The front door of the villa opened, and Fernandez said, "On target. It's him. No wind."

Ruiz put the top chevron onto the target's necktie knot and squeezed the trigger. It broke perfectly, and Fernandez said, "Bullseye, took him right in the head."

They rolled off of the platform, leaving the rifle and spotter scope in place. The rest of the magazine held standard 7N1 ammunition. Records would show it been stolen from an Army armory in Tecate the previous year--and only a world-class armorer would spot the subtle changes worked on it in the meantime, or recognize the outstanding quality of the one fired casing. The PSE--Popular Seguridard Ejercito, the People's Security Armed Forces--didn't have that kind of expertise handy.

Ruiz and Fernandez made their way out of the safehouse, allowing themselves to be seen in their DSF--Dirección de Seguridad Federal, or Federal Security Directorate--uniforms as they made their way back to their car. As far as anyone knew, they'd used a spook safehouse for a little overnight recreation.

They drove inland and stopped at an abandoned convent, changed into working-class attire, then donned PSE direct action team uniform coveralls and wigs, trying to not think too much about what had happened to the nuns who'd lived there.

They put PSE insignia magnetic decals on their car and drove down to the main DSF hangout in Ensenada, a cantina that still served breakfast thanks to the DSF's patronage.

Ruiz nodded to Fernandez, who pulled out a grenade and pulled the pin.

Ruiz kicked the door of the cantina open and stepped aside. Fernandez threw the grenade into the cantina and got clear of the door.

The explosion blew the door off of its hinges. Ruiz stepped in and worked methodically up the left side of the cantina, Fernandez from his right. They stopped halfway up and ran back out.

The street was deserted; nobody wanted to be anywhere near this.

Ruiz and Fernandez ran away down an alley and climbed into an open manhole, pulling the cover over themselves.

* * *

Within 30 minutes, PSE and DSF tactical teams were shooting at each other whenever they came into contact in the Tecate-Tijuana-Ensenada triangle. The Cuban DGI "observers" were trying frantically to get things under control, and were getting shot at by both sides as the PSE and DSF teams reverted to their prewar cartel loyalties. Ordinary citizens learned to take cover if any of the factions showed up.

* * *

01 July 1989
TASK FORCE ACHERNAR Headquarters
Williams AFB, AZ

Mantell looked at the SIGINT reports. "Wonderful things can happen when you plant the seeds of distrust in a garden of assholes. And the Mexican Army is staying out of the way--obviously waiting for political guidance, which isn't going to come very quickly."

Ishizake chuckled. "That's quite a turn of phrase. Yours?"

"Elmore Leonard, actually. From his novel Glitz. Decent beach read, sir."

"I'll have to check it out."

* * *

02 July 1989
Canyon House
Phoenix, AZ

Debs sipped her bourbon and said, "Look, it's like this. Upside of this idea: we all want lots of babies. None of us wants to actually whelp that as many babies as we want to be mothers for. So, hey, we love on our own and everyone else's babies. And we get lots of help from each other with the kids. Downside: Mrs. Grundy is gonna flip her damn wig."

Roberta said, "As Robert A. Heinlein put it, 'Freedom begins when you tell Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite.' I say we let the chips fall wherever they will, and live our lives as we see fit. Isn't that what we've been fighting for?"

Helen nodded. "But among the people who might flip their lids include two of particular importance. One is General Samuel Eliot Morison Lodge, who happens to be Josh's rabbi."

Jeanna's voice was quiet, but firm. "Lodge is not a factor; he's pretty open-minded. Who's the other?"

Helen said, "Your father."

"Dad will be tickled pink to hug any grandbabies I say are mine, no matter which womb they dropped from; he's likely to be very happy that they all have the same father. Mom is far more likely to freak out--she had a hard time accepting that I'm marrying a woman at first. But she came around, and she will come around on this as long as we don't push her. Just let her come around at her own pace."

The other three women nodded.

"And Roberta's going to be the fulcrum of this effort."

"Me?"

Helen laughed, then said, "Yeah, you. You're the one who first captured his heart, you're the one who sort of understands what makes him tick, you're the one who has the most . . . empathetic . . . connection to him. So you need to be close to him, listen to him, reinforce those things we love most about him, help him past those moments that can break him, and be a voice of wise counsel . . . and let him do the same for you."

"In other words, build a partnership with him. I did an absolutely crap job of that last time out."

Debs said, "Well, you learned from that, right?"

"Maybe."

Jeanna said, "Well, don't do whatever it was you did last time. Duh."

* * *

07 July 1989
Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

There was a knock on the door.

When Mantell opened it, he saw Roberta.

"Hi, Josh. Saw you down in the workout center. You looked kind of . . . grim. Want to talk about it?"

"Sure." He tapped his ear, then said, "How about a walk?"

* * *

They walked along Gateway Boulevard. Mantell waited until they'd crossed 44th, then said, "This is super close hold, even as much as I'm censoring it."

Roberta nodded, and Mantell felt a sense of . . . relief?

Of weight coming off.

"Roberta, all I'm going to say is that part of what I'm doing is getting two factions we don't like to shoot at each other. It's working. But it's killing a lot of bystanders."

Roberta was silent.

Josh asked, "Am I doing the right thing?"

"Will it end the war quicker?"

"Maybe."

"Will it hurt the enemy?"

"Definitely."

"And the bystanders are getting hurt because our enemies don't give a jolly damn who gets hurt, not because we need those bystanders hurt. You're not shooting them."

Mantell considered this, then said, "Yes."

"And they had the option of not shooting at each other, right?"

Mantell nodded.

"Josh . . . it's on them, not you. War is terrible. And I thank God for that small mercy, because even as terrible as it is, it can be addicting. I remember how my platoon raced ahead to scout for the enemy as we were wrapping up Roswell. Part of me lusted for battle, and I wanted the blood of America's enemies to slake my thirst. It's a thrill being released from some of the rules that govern our behavior. And I am not even a true warrior, not like you. Have you ever watched the footage from Philadelphia?"

Josh shook his head.

"Dear God, Josh, you were . . . magnificent. You were in your element, you were living your purpose, to fight the enemy and triumph. You really are a higher form of killing. And I wonder how you turn it off so quickly, how you keep from going over the edge. Maybe you being so attuned to warfare, you understand instinctively how terrible it is, you understand how you have to restrain yourself, and you thus control it. My point is . . . you understand that this is awful. But it's also necessary. You're doing the right thing, you are taking the fight to our foes, and it is utterly necessary."

Josh thought for a moment, then said, "Thank you, Roberta. This means a lot to me."

"Any time."

[clancyphile]

I wonder if this RD+20 Josh Mantell is more messed up than the prime RD+20 Josh Mantell, and I don't have a solid answer either way.

[jemhouston]

Different mess up for sure. As long as he has a support group, hopefully he'll be fine

[Belushi TD]

I would have to say that he's MORE messed up. However, I also think that at his present state of mind, and the present situation of the world, he's MORE likely to end up stable and happy at the end of it.

Cold hard truth - If you have one woman actively looking out for you, you're likely to do better than otherwise. If you have 4 women looking out for you, you're likely to do far better than otherwise.

Look at it this way. When I was a kid, I had two sets of parents, due to the fact that my folks were very good friends with a set of neighbors. Both myself and their two kids did better than average. The more parents you have, the more likely you are to end up in a good place, because each parent has the chance to pick up on something that the others miss, and help you with it.

Belushi TD

[Poohbah]

15 August 1989
Near Tecate, Baja California

Adam Lodge stepped quietly alongside the trail, carefully planting his feet to make sure he made no noise in the darkness.

Eventually, he smelled lye. He stopped and waited.

He heard a faint murmur in Spanish. "You are worried about your friend, Carlos?"

He replied in Spanish. "Yes, and Juan as well."

"Juan is fine, although his watch stopped."

"Must be the heat."

"Come forward, please."

Lodge stepped forward.

"Stop."

Lodge stopped. A man stepped forward, and Lodge could smell the lye soap on him. "Follow me. I must confess, you are very good; I had no idea you were there for a few minutes."

The old man led him southeast, up a small dry gulch. Eventually, they reached a cave entrance. The old man took Adam's arm and guided him forward past a blackout curtain, then checked to make sure it was in place. He then led Adam through a second blackout curtain into a dimly lit cave that seemed very bright against his dark-adapted eyes.

"Good evening," an older man said. "Welcome to the Provisional Government of Baja California . . . such as it is."

Seven men were seated around a pair of card tables underneath a lantern.

"Good evening, sir."

"You're younger than I expected. Well, that's the war, I guess. Your Spanish is . . . well, it's native, but I don't know where it's native to."

"Buenos Aires, sir."

"And yet you wear the uniform of the American . . . Air Force?"

"Yes, sir. My father was an expatriate American, and he got us out when the Dirty War heated up."

The older man nodded. "I see. So, where did you land in America?"

"Believe it or not, San Diego."

The seven men all chuckled, and the leader said, "Oh, this is a fine joke. You are from South America, you came of age in San Diego . . . tell me, did ever you sneak down to Tijuana for a beer?"

Adam shook his head. "No, sir. By the time I was old enough, things had gone bad. We porteños learned the hard way to watch the winds of politics, and I didn't want to get caught out in a Frontista bombing."

The leader sighed. "I understand. Life was simpler when I was your age. American teenagers and sailors would come down, drink beer, eat, dance, buy trinkets . . . a man could feed a family, maybe even become prosperous, aspire to own a cantina or a gift shop. We were always on the edge of Mexico. We were content to be Mexican--but we always looked north for commerce." He paused. "The first part is about to change. We just received word that the government will be conscripting 16-year-olds as soon as they return to school at the end of the month. They're that desperate for bodies."

"Madre de Dios."

He made the Sign of the Cross, and a few men followed him.

The leader nodded. "That was everyone's reaction. When this becomes public . . . it's going to be ugly. Our movements are preparing to hide children, but every day we're going to lose our sons, a few hundred at a time. The present unrest will almost certainly become an open revolt. Are you prepared for what comes next?"

Lodge considered this, then asked, "What are you asking?"

"More support from your Special Forces. Maybe even regular troops."

Lodge considered his orders. "In reverse order . . . the regular troops are off the table until you've got something resembling a functional government that can convincingly invite them in. That's my guidance, and it ultimately comes from my president."

The leader nodded. "I understand."

"As for the former . . . that's why I'm here. To look at your plans and assess their feasibility. And I have one crucial question up front: what does success look like for you?"

The leader looked around the table, and received a nod in turn from each man. He then turned back to Lodge. "I am a schoolteacher, specializing in geography. We all understand first that, once we do this, we're never going to be part of Mexico again, no matter what happens to the Communists--and I know you're not going all the way to Mexico City. Second, we can't make it on our own. We keep coming back to this point: our future lies with America." He paused, then said, "When the conscription order hits, we're going to state our case to the people as clearly as we can: now is the time to leave Mexico and join with the United States. We'll see what happens."

* * *

Adam and the leader discussed the information operations of the campaign.

"We have a pro-quality video recording rig. We make near master-grade tapes of the Univision stations and smuggle them down the peninsula, make a few hundred first generation and a few thousand second-generation copies at each stop, and we arrange for people to see them. They always want more, too."

* * *

Lodge drafted his report and encoded it into his backpack transceiver.

FM GHOSTRUNNER SIERRA
TO YANKEE CLIPPER
CONTACT MADE. INTENT IS TO GO NORTH. SCENARIO FIVE CONFIRMED FOR EOM. INFO PLAN WORKING. PLAN IS TO RUN NORTH PROPOSAL OUT AT EOM AND GET QUICK OK FM ALCON. BELIEVE WE CAN WIN DIVORCE CASE BUT NO IDEA HOW MUCH ALIMONY WILL BE. BT

* * *

16 August 1989
Task Force ACHERNAR HQ
Williams AFB, AZ

Mantell said, "Holy shit, they're really doing it. Have they lost their damn minds?"

Sotomayor said, "Someone in the DF just said Sostén mi cerveza y mira esto."

Mantell sighed, then said, "They do this, this party is gonna be lit."

* * *

25 August 1989
Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

Josh and Helen were having a quiet dinner in civvies while Roberta had the duty.

Helen asked, "How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess. Bad news is I just found out from Mike that the family home and everything in it got totaled--a 500 pound bomb landed in it back in January. EOD was able to render safe, but the February and March rains just trashed the entire house, and insurance isn't paying out because it's an act of war--"

"If the house got blown up by the bomb, that's an act of war. The original damage to the house was an act of war. This was damage caused by a lack of care after the event. If the city notified the insurance firm promptly, and the insurance firm didn't do anything to preserve the property and minimize damage, the insurance firm eats the assessed value. That's a legal requirement now with so many people away at war, and there's provision for triple damages if you have to sue."

Josh grabbed his wheelbook and made a note. "That will be extremely helpful in settling Mom & Dad's estate."

Helen nodded. "Good."

"How are you doing, Helen?"

Helen said, "Okay. Worried a bit about Roberta--and you. You two guys are natural-born workaholics. Take some time off. Ask your CO for a pass and go out a ways into the desert, watch the stars, take the weight off. Hell, just camp out in the library, they've got a few comfy chairs. Read some good books, expand your mind a bit, quit thinking about whatever it is you're working on--"

Josh's pager buzzed.

Helen chuckled. "And when you do take leave, make sure you forget to charge the batteries on that thing."

Josh got up and went over to the bank of pay phones and called in.

"Where are you, Chief?"

"O Club. With a guest, and I'm the designated driver."

"OK. There's a TV set in the manager's office. Major Sotomayor and I will swing on by with a videotape we got off Univision."

"My Spanish is pretty marginal, sir." He'd been studying, but unlike German, he'd found it hard going.

"Yours is better than mine, honestly."

* * *

A few minutes later, Mantell excused himself again. Helen's face showed curiosity, but she said nothing.

In the manager's office, Ishizake inserted the tape into the VCR and hit PLAY.

The video was grainy, obviously sent over a satellite feed, and the reporter was speaking quietly in Spanish inside what appeared to be an abandoned hotel room."

Sotomayor provided a running translation. "The announcement that 16-year-olds would be conscripted for the war was made on the official radio station this morning, apparently ahead of schedule. Almost immediately, people took to the streets in protest, carrying signs saying 'PEACE NOW' and 'END THIS WAR.' Some even carried the flag of the Soviet State of Baja California Sur with the hammer and sickle removed. What followed was this footage, which is extremely graphic. Viewer discretion is advised."

The footage cut to a shot of the street from five or six stories up. Bottle-green DSF troops had set up a skirmish line. The protest was peaceful . . . until the DSF troops opened fire into the crowd.

Chaos erupted in the street as people sought to flee. A BTR-60PB fitted with a twin 23mm turret opened fire into the crowd. Mantell winced as chunks of bodies flew into the air.

And then a rocket came out of a building across the street, and the BTR fireballed spectacularly.

Many DSF troops had been knocked to the ground by the blast, and the rest were stunned and stopped firing.

The crowd seemed to be a living thing as it stopped, turned...and then rampaged back up the street, picking up anything that could be used as a weapon. Some DSF troops emptied their magazines, but the crowd seemed to understand that this was for keeps, and that stopping wasn't an option anymore. The mob rolled over the DSF troops like a tsunami hitting a beach and savagely beat to death any trooper they could lay hands on.

The tape ended, and the image cut back to a studio. Sotomayor translated the female anchor's speech. "We have lost contact with our news team in La Paz, and fear the worst."

Sotomayor stopped the tape and asked, "Your impression, Chief?"

"Holy shit. Sir."

Ishizake chuckled. "You do have an absolutely stunning grasp of the obvious, Chief. So what the hell do we do?"

"We pirate this off the satellite?"

"No, the regular Univision broadcast feed."

"So this went out to Mexicali, Tecate, and Tijuana."

"With predictable results. It's started."

"Then we go right now, sir. If I were you, I'd call an audible for Contingency Plan PURPLE--the major urban unrest scenario. We need the ODAs inserted immediately, if not sooner. Down in La Paz and Cabo, and from the border to Ensenada & San Felipe at least, because the locals are gonna party like it's 1999. This is the signal to go all in, we got ourselves a horse and we need to ride it to the Winner's Circle at Agua Caliente. Go big, or go home. Sir."

Ishizake nodded. "Concur. And so does Major Sotomayor and the rest of the team. We recommended that to General Downing."

"Why'd you bring me in, sir?"

"Downing's orders. Mantell, one thing you do really well is look at all of the pieces. You make a good Devil's Advocate when we're putting a CONPLAN together. Downing wanted to be sure we weren't missing something important."

Ishizake picked up the phone, and dialed a number.

"Yes, sir."

Pause.

"Mantell's all in, sir."

Pause.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Josh and Helen were walking in the golden hour, not far from the Doubletree.

Helen said, "You seem awfully pensive tonight."

"My guidance counselor actually ridiculed me when I enlisted in the Marines."

"Get out of here!"

"If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'. Seriously, she said that only morons enlisted."

"Wonder what she thinks now."

Josh chuckled. "Good question. Now, I'm a Medal of Honor recipient, I've got my college package in--good news is that I'm guaranteed a seat, not so good news is that it's at Idaho State University in Pocatello--that was third on my list behind UCSD and University of Utah--and the really bad news is that the earliest I go is Fall 1990. And I've helped get an armed revolution started--"

"Wait, you're involved with Baja?"

"Keep it under your hat."

Helen nodded. "My lips are sealed, dear. That said, I'm impressed."

"That guidance counselor was a very vocal Frontista supporter. She'd probably be extremely pissed off, assuming she isn't locked up for the duration."

"One can only hope."

* * *

Back in her suite, Helen picked up the phone and called Jeanna.

"Good news, he's going to college in Fall of 1990. Bad news, it's Pocatello, Idaho."

Jeanna said, "Helen, don't worry. I'm sure I can find profitable ventures in Pocatello. I've been up in that part of the country, it's really nice."

"Not exactly Los Angeles or Orange County . . . or even Santa Barbara."

"It's got wide-open spaces, there's hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting."

"I don't think I'd mind fishing as long as it's sitting on the shore with a line in the water, waiting for a fish to bite. Roberta thinks roughing it is a hotel without an attached restaurant."

"Don't worry, it's also got a nice local arts vibe. Good local bands, there's a decent microbrewery--kind of amazing considering how many Latter-Day Saints live there--and there's some art galleries. Nice local library, and there's also the libraries at BYU Pocatello and Idaho State. And, best of all, it's peaceful. I think all five of us can go for that last point. Good place to raise kids."

"I trust you."

"Thanks. That really means a lot to me."

[Matt Wiser]

SOCCOM got invited to the dance, and the party has started....

[jemhouston]

Party like there's no tomorrow. If you screw this up, there won't be a tomorrow.

If everyone survives, Josh will have busy time in Idaho.

[Poohbah]

08 September 1989
Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

Mantell rolled over and picked up the phone on the third ring.

"Mantell here."

Ishizake's voice was intense. "Chief, this is an all hands recall. Time on is 0245, expect you here by 0315."

Mantell was rolling to his feet as he said, "Understood, sir."

* * *

Mantell looked over the information from La Paz, then looked at the J-2, Colonel Sarah Price, who said, "Your guess is as good as mine."

Mantell smiled. "I think our friends got extremely clever. Someone in either PSE or the DSF decided to have a go at the Arrellano brothers, and the resistance blew the op just minutes before it kicked off, AND told the other guys that the DGI was coming to roll them up. This whole thing has a 'let's you and him fight' vibe."

Price stared at Mantell, then nodded once.

"Let's assume you're right. So what are you thinking happens next?"

"In less than 72 hours, there isn't going to be a functioning government on the Baja peninsula. If our schoolteacher friend doesn't screw this up, he's going to be in charge of whatever is going to pass for a government, and we'd better be ready to answer the phone."

* * *

08 September 1989
Fifth Army Headquarters
Rio Medina, TX

General Schwartzkopf picked up the phone. "Schwartzkopf here."

General John Vesey said, "Norm, I have some bad news for you. We're pulling 23rd Mech, 7th Light, the 17th Airborne, 10th ACR, and Fifth Marine Division out of the theater reserve and sending them to Southern California."

Schwartzkopf sighed. "Has Tri-County come unglued again?"

"No, but Baja has. Look, we barely understand this here in Philly--even the guys who keep an eye on Baja for a living say you can't tell the players without a scorecard, it's an absolute mess. All of the security forces and the state government were formed out of rival drug cartels, and they've taken to shooting at each other even more than they're shooting at the insurgents. The state security police just tried to stage a coup, but they screwed it up and ended up getting gutted by their federal rivals and the Arellano brothers' praetorian guard, and what was left of the Cuban intel people overseeing them got caught in the crossfire. Now, the few left from any faction are trying to hunt down their rivals or find a way to escape back to the mainland, but now the insurgents are hunting them all down as well. The consensus here is that they're not going to have a functioning government before long--days as opposed to weeks--and we're going to need to stabilize things. All we're going to need is an invitation from the insurgents as soon as they can look like they're plausibly in charge, and we're probably going to get it in within the week. It shouldn't affect the completion of BORDER FURY."

"Agreed, sir. Any idea what this is going to do to SANDLINE?"

"CIA and DIA think that it might make it irrelevant, but for different reasons. CIA thinks the whole northern tier from Sonora to Tamaulipas might want to join the party, and we just roll in, but DIA thinks the Mexicans will throw in the towel as soon as they can to prevent that, and I'm inclined to agree--when you're holding a trash hand and you've already lost a big wad, that's not the time to double down. It might make things a lot more complicated between the Mexican Army and the rest of the WARPAC forces, so be ready to exploit that."

Schwartzkopf nodded, then said, "I'm inclined to agree with the DIA, especially if it's General Lodge's team. He may be a devious, shifty SOB, but he's America's devious, shifty SOB, and he makes sure he's got hard facts before he opens his mouth."

"It is. Your characterization of Major General (Promotable) Lodge is duly noted. Make sure your troops know to segregate out anyone from Baja when they take prisoners."

"Yes, sir."

Vesey said, "I'll leave you to it--I gotta call Sixth Army and tell them they aren't getting 5th Marine Division or the Americal back any time soon."

Schwartzkopf said, "For once we're having problems from too much winning."

The two generals shared a chuckle.

* * *

08 September 1989
National Training Center
Fort Irwin, CA

Major General Clark Skinner was getting convinced he was in over his head--he'd taken a risky maneuver, passing a brigade through terrain that even the OPFOR believed to be impassable, and they hadn't found the enemy yet.

The radio crackled. "All maneuver elements, this is Exercise Control. Charlie Hotel, Charlie Hotel."

Skinner grabbed the CONTROL authenticator sheet and got on the radio. "Exercise Control, Oregon Actual, authenticate Romeo Seven Victor."

"Oregon Actual, Exercise Control, I authenticate Mike Niner Quebec. Damn shame we're shutting down, your flankers were about to charge over the ridgeline and hit the OPFOR HQ and MSR."

* * *

The NTC commander said, "Good show, General Skinner. Get your gear loaded up at the railhead, you've got new deployment orders."

Skinner took the preferred orders and skimmed them. "Down to Mexicali?" What, the Russians are trying one last shot at California?"

"Mission brief when you get down there is all I've got. Usual Army hurry up and wait, I'm afraid."

* * *

08 September 1989
Laredo AFB

Guru Weiser stepped into Colonel Brady's office and started to report.

"Never mind that, Guru. We just got deployment orders. Effective immediately, you're detached from Marine Air Group 11 and you're dual-hatted as the CO of the 335th and the Officer in Charge of Marine Aircraft Group 21 Detachment Alfa. MAG-21 is currently at Cherry Point, but they're flying here in the next three days. They're equipped with F-4EJs, you're getting VMFA-221, VMFA-334, and VMFA-422. Colonel Hardegen is the group CO, you remember him from when 333 was with us. VMFA-112 and VA-135 are staying here as well. We're packing up for NAF El Centro, and no, I have no idea why. They just want us out there as soon as humanly possible."

* * *

09 September 1989
Capitol Reef EPW Camp #3
Capitol Reef, UT

Corporal Victor Ortega rolled out of his bunk when reveille sounded. After waiting in line to take a shower, he dressed and stepped out for morning formation.

This morning was different. The American NCO had said, "All those who are from Tijuana, Tecate, Ensenada, or Mexicali, Baja California, please report to Camp Administration after breakfast."

* * *

Ortega returned to his bunk, gathered his effects, and made his way to the day room with about a dozen others. The television was tuned to Univision, which was showing more footage gathered from Ensenada. The situation was deteriorating--not that it had ever been good.

Private Jose Ramos looked at Ortega. "You know, I'm going to actually miss this place." He chuckled. "First time I ever saw snow."

Ortega asked, "Why are they segregating us?"

Private Raul Muñoz replied, "Beats me."

* * *

A few hours later, they were on a bus. There was a locked barricade and the windows had bars, but beyond that they weren't shackled or otherwise restrained. The guards had no idea of what was going on; they were just taking them to the airfield for further transport.

* * *

By the time their plane had arrived at its destination, it was early evening. Ortega was tired and hungry, but he blinked in surprise.

He was back at the 29 Palms Expeditionary Airfield, which meant he was probably staying at the Lockhart EPW Camp this evening.

An hour later, they arrived at the familiar camp. The dormitories had been recently cleaned and still smelled of disinfectant.

Still, the bunks were comfortable, and the food was OK.

Ortega sighed. Hurry up and wait.

* * *

12 September 1989
Tecate, Baja California

"I'm Victoria de la Montez with Univision News, reporting live from Tecate in Baja California, where an uprising has deposed the Communist government. With me are the members of the Provisional Government of Baja California, who have a statement."

A man stepped forward in a frayed suit. "Good morning. My name is Manuel Garcia y Herrera, and I am the Chairman of the Baja Resistance Council. We of Baja California were dragged into this war against our will, and we have suffered at the hands of the central government and the regime of terror imposed by the Arellano brothers and the cartel soldiers Mexico City imposed on us as 'security forces.'

"The struggle has been hard, but our oppressors--driven by greed and rage--have destroyed themselves. For now, local resistance forces are taking charge of basic law and order. But now we have a catastrophic situation. Baja California, from Tijuana and Mexicali in the north to La Paz and Cabo San Lucas in the south, is facing a crisis. Potable water, edible food, and working sanitation are in very short supply.

"We have always looked to the United States as our primary trading partner because of geography. That is why the regime forces have treated us so harshly; we were always viewed as disloyal. We have discussed this again and again, and we keep coming back to this point: the key to a better future lies in our past. The Council, made up of representatives from all along the Baja Peninsula, is formally requesting United States military forces to enter Baja California to provide humanitarian aid, ensure law and order, and to finish neutralizing the remaining regime forces. We are further requesting, on behalf of the people of Baja California, to become an American protectorate, both to ensure internal order and safety and to shield us against revenge from the government of mainland Mexico.

"We believe that the final disposition of Baja California should be decided by the people of Baja California as a whole, in an open plebiscite to be held as soon as possible. We will welcome international observers to verify that the campaign and elections are held in an equitable and fair manner.

"Finally, a message to the people of the United States: we are entrusting our lives, and the lives of our children, to the your care. We understand that are asking a great deal; the only thing I can absolutely promise in return is the gratitude of the people of Baja California for allowing us to freely determine our future. We await an answer from the American government. Thank you. Viva Los Estados Unidos!"

* * *

12 September 1989
Lockhart EPW Camp

Ortega stared at the TV set.

Muñoz said, "Victor, maybe we're going home."

* * *

12 September 1989
Presidential Suite
Ritz-Carlton Hotel
Philadelphia, PA

President Bush looked at Secretary of Defense Carlucci and Secretary of State Baker.

"The door's officially open. Can either of you think of any reason for not walking on in?"

Carlucci said, "Mr. President, we have Air Force Special Reconnaissance teams deployed along the length of the peninsula, along with Army Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrols. The overall situation is as least as bad as Mr. Garcia has described. The people of Baja want out of the war, they want to rebuild their towns and cities, they want Americans back spending money, and if the price tag is becoming an American protectorate, then they're willing to pay it. I say we go."

Baker said, "Some of our allies and friendly neutrals might view this as colonialism. But we will make it clear that the future of Baja California is for the people living there to decide. A realistic appraisal of their situation shows that independence isn't going to work, and Mr. Garcia almost certainly understands this--he was a high school geography teacher. I agree with Mr. Carlucci: we should accept the Council's offer."

Bush sat back in his chair, looking pensively out the window. Finally, he straightened up, Picked up his pen, and signed the Executive Order before him.

"Gentlemen, carry out Operation GOLDEN MATADOR, immediately."

* * *

13 September 1989
Tecate, Baja California

The opening of Operation GOLDEN MATADOR was announced by elements of the 139th Airborne Engineering Battalion breaching the border fortifications blocking State Route 188, followed by 1st Squadron, 10th Armored Cavalry Regiment advancing cautiously into the city.

Men, women, and children lined the route, shouting Viva Los Estados Unidos! and Paz!

The column eventually reached the City Hall, where they were met by the Acting Chief of Police.

Through an interpreter, Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Rolanger got a situation report--incomplete, as many of the chief's men were out of touch due to the telephones not working.

* * *

13 September 1989
Tijuana, Baja California

The drive into Tijuana by the 7th Light Infantry Division had been anticlimactic. People were cheering wildly.

"You think they're happy now, wait until this afternoon."

* * *

13 September 1989
On Interstate 15

The motor coach seats were comfortable, and Ortega's new suit(!) fit reasonably well.

Beyond that, he was numb.

* * *

Two hours later, they rolled through the San Ysidro border crossing and into Tijuana. There was war damage, but a lot less than he'd expected from four years of war.

The bus rolled up to the Parque Teniente Guerrero. It looked a shadow of its former self. A large crowd of women stood nearby.

The American officer at the front of the bus stood up and got on the PA system. He spoke in Spanish. "Gentlemen, welcome home. You are hereby officially released from custody." He paused, then said, "Vaya con Dios."

The door opened, and the former prisoners began filing out. Ortega got up, grabbed his duffel, and walked down the aisle. He climbed down the steps.

He walked toward the crowd of women, and suddenly heard a cry of "VICTOR!"

He turned towards the voice and saw a woman running towards him, and suddenly he connected the voice in his memory, and embraced Isabella Martinez, his girlfriend from--

Before.

And suddenly, it stopped being a dream and he was home.

* * *

13 September 1989
Chester's Bar
Doubletree Suites
Phoenix, AZ

Joyful reunions were happening in Tijuana, covered live by the press pool.

A man was speaking to the television camera. "With the return of prisoners from the United States, alive and well, and the work of restoring key infrastructure underway, the mood in Tijuana this afternoon is both festive and hopeful. For CNN International News, I'm Jesse Macias."

Mantell set his drink down and headed outside into the warm evening air.

Nameless emotions tore at his heart. He felt light-headed as he considered the future. I might actually live through this war.

The end of this war is in sight. Rebuilding America just became possible. How will I contribute?

"Josh?"

Roberta's voice.

He turned and saw Roberta and Helen.

"You OK?"

Josh turned the question over, then shook his head.

Roberta took one arm and Helen the other, and they guided him back toward their suite.

* * *

Inside, they sat him down on the couch and flanked him, each putting an arm around him. "It's just us, Josh. You don't have to be strong and in charge tonight. You're safe with friends."

* * *

14 September 1989

Josh awoke with a start. He was in his bed--

--wait, the bathroom's on the wrong side--

--and then he felt movement to his right.

Helen's voice. "How are you this morning?"

"Um." His voice came out as a croak, and his head pounded.

To his left, Roberta stirred awake and said, "OK, one each hangover drill, coming right up."

She climbed out of bed without regard for her nudity. Josh couldn't take his eyes off of her as she grabbed a robe from the bathroom door, and headed into the main living area, presumably to the kitchen.

Helen sat up, and Josh found himself looking away.

"Josh."

Helen's voice held a trace of amusement.

"It's OK, Josh, I know you've seen naked women before. And Roberta is particularly worth staring at, but do feel free to ogle me as well."

"Did we--"

"By the time we got you into bed, you were in no condition to do anything--not that any of us, including you, were ever interested. We wanted to make sure you were safe, so we tucked you in and made sure you couldn't get out of bed without waking at least one of us up."

Josh took inventory. He was in briefs, and he felt like crap.

"I need a shower."

"Go ahead."

Josh got up and staggered into the bathroom, turned the shower on, waited for it to heat up, then climbed in. He then ran the water full hot for a few seconds as he turned under the nozzle, then brought it back to normal and cleaned up. He then cranked it over to full cold and stayed under it for a full minute.

He stepped back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. Roberta snagged it and hauled it off of him, then went back into the bathroom and hung it over the shower rail.

He dressed hastily in the spare uniform Helen or Roberta had apparently grabbed the night before, with Helen and Roberta both chuckling over his modesty.

Helen said, "So, Roberta, what's your impression?"

"He definitely looks good enough to eat."

Helen giggled. "Hold that thought, darling."

Roberta smiled, making no effort to keep her robe closed. "Come on, bashful, let's get some toast and juice in you."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Josh felt sort of human again.

The phone rang, and Roberta answered. "Roberta Kreider-Zangas . . . hold on, Colonel."

She passed the phone to Josh. "Colonel Ishizake."

"Good morning, sir."

"Just letting you know, no need to come in today. Our work is done. Get wasted, get laid, bark at the moon, whatever. Tomorrow, we're starting lessons learned. But today . . . rest easy, you've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

[jemhouston]

Schwartzkopf nodded, then said, "I'm inclined to agree with the DIA, especially if it's General Lodge's team. He may be a devious, shifty SOB, but he's America's devious, shifty SOB, and he makes sure he's got hard facts before he opens his mouth."

That might be the best description of Lodge I've heard.

In twenty years, I can think of two people who might be in is league if they're unlucky enough to stay in the game.

[Matryoshka]

As far as ‘gestures aimed at building goodwill’ go, repatriating all the region’s PWs, voluntarily and up-front, without condition or coercion... yeah, that’s pretty hard to beat as (one of) your opening move(s). No delays, no wrangling, no pressure or arm-twisting, just “pack your bags, muchacos, you’re going home!”

A very deft flourish, indeed. I wonder whose idea it was? Not that it doesn’t end up in the same place anyway, I’m mostly asking from curiosity.

[Wolfman]

Nicely written, Poohbah.

[Matt Wiser]

Good work, Poobah.

[Jotun]

Great story. Josh going BSOD hit me quite hard.
One question. Colonel Hardegen. Distant relative of the Operation Drumbeat U-Boat skipper?

[Matt Wiser]

Maybe: he's in the main storyline as well. In that, he and his family got into West Berlin the day before the Wall went up...