Re: The Vaults of Heaven (AU)
Posted: Tue Feb 27, 2024 6:13 am
by Poohbah
9 October 2010
Clovis, NM
Kathy savored the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee, and opened her eyes, to find that Becky was holding a cup of coffee under her nose.
She took the cup and sat up in the bed.
"That's the best wakeup I've ever gotten."
* * *
After showering together (the shower was big enough for three people, easily), they made breakfast. Kathy noted that the kitchen was fully equipped.
Kathy set her fork down when she was finished, folded her hands under her chin, and said, "There's something you need to know about me."
Becky said, "You're from those Mantells, you've got four moms and one dad, and your family has more money than anyone can shake a stick at."
Kathy blinked. "How'd you guess?"
Becky smiled. "Easy. You didn't freak out at how luxurious this condo is for a 20-year-old woman. And you've got your father's eyes."
"How do you know what my father looks like?"
Becky smiled. "We both sat through American Airpower in World War III: The Strongest Steel, Forged in the Hottest Fire."
Kathy groaned as she remembered the BMT Air Force history class. "Oh, dear God. I hope and pray that Dad never sees that class. He'd die of embarrassment. You went to Lackland?"
Becky nodded. "I'm a reserve logistics technician--I drill up at Kirtland. My internship at Patterson Intermodal is more broad-based; Daddy wants me to be ready to take over for him before I turn 30. And that means he wants a succession plan in place--I'm expected to find a suitable spouse well before then."
"Cripes." Mantell shook her head. "No pressure, Kathy, no pressure."
Becky reached across the table and took Kathy's hands in hers.
"For what it's worth, it's looking pretty darn good, actually."
Kathy remembered the CSAF's testimony to Congress, where he'd used that exact phrase to describe the Air Force's morale. She started giggling.
Pretty soon, both women were laughing hysterically--until Kathy leaned across the table and kissed Becky.
They happily adjourned back to the bedroom.
* * *
12 October 2010
419th Tactical Fighter Wing
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT
Matt "Guru" Wiser wore a flight suit in contrast to Mantell's desert ABUs. After exchanging salutes, Wiser waved Mantell to a chair. "Good to see you again, Josh."
"Likewise, Guru."
Guru nodded. "So, what's on your mind?"
"I'm looking to step up my squadron's training, particularly in serving as the air combatant commander's eyes across all phases of the targeting cycle, from scouting to weapons effects assessment. My guess is that, if things start happening in response to Baja statehood, it's going to be Scud launches on the Southwestern US target set."
Guru raised an eyebrow. "What's your reasoning?"
Mantell said, "It puts us on the back foot and forces us to be reactive, instead of proactive. It's something that no nation can tolerate, but the inevitable invasion can be portrayed as Yankee imperialism turned up to 11."
Guru smiled. "Makes sense. Maybe too much sense . . . we can practice missile hunting out on Wendover Range, out by Mountain Home, or over at Welch Air Force Base with the training wing."
"I'd like to do all three, to be honest. Good training all around for everyone. Even for the SAC weenies."
"So, we coordinate with SAC--"
Mantell shook his head. "I don't trust SAC ops to not tip off the missile convoy crews. I also want to see how they react when--or maybe even if--they realize they're being stalked on the ground. That should give me some insight into how their Mexican counterparts will react, as well."
Guru said, "The CSPs might get a tad trigger happy if they start thinking someone's stalking them."
Mantell said, "My standing orders always include the Eleventh Commandment."
Guru chuckled. "Thou shalt not get caught."
"The best Special Reconnaissance missions are when the OPFOR has no clue we were ever there. My people are good, but I want them even better if there's even a chance we're going to be yomping around Northern Mexico."
Guru nodded. "All right. I'll have my ops staff get with yours, I'll talk to my wife to bring in the 366th, and we'll plan some exercises for the coming month."
"Your wife's commanding the 366th?"
Guru said, "Yes."
"They let a navigator take a wing command? 'Bout damn time."
Guru said, "Well, they officially changed it during the war."
"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. Mostly because they didn't actually do it until now. Your wife damn well earned it, and I'll impress upon my people to not disappoint her--or you, for that matter--with the quality of our work."
Guru nodded. "I know you will."
Re: The Vaults of Heaven (AU)
Posted: Thu Feb 29, 2024 5:51 am
by Poohbah
13 October 2010
10th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Cannon AFB, Clovis, NM
"Sergeant Mantell, a moment of your time, please."
Mantell looked up from the admin paperwork she was looking over for one of the airmen on her floor of the dormitory. "Good morning, Chief."
"Good morning. Good news: Team IDAHO is getting two new operators, just completed training. You know Airmen Martinez and Thibodeaux?"
Mantell smiled. "You gave us Martinez and the Ragin' Cajun? That is good news. They had pretty solid reputations at Eglin."
Plumley nodded. "The bad news is that the only other shake-and-bake candidate available is headed to Team MINNESOTA."
Mantell nodded. "They need all the help they can get."
Plumley nodded. "Glad you understand. Master Sergeant Barnes has a team structure dialed in, get with him, please."
"Will do."
Plumley gestured to the paperwork Mantell was reviewing. "May I?"
Mantell handed the folder over, and Plumley looked it over.
"This is the first tuition assistance request I've seen this year that was filled out correctly."
"Well, Senior Airman Webster got the documentation right--"
"How much help did you give him?"
"I looked over the relevant AFI and used that to review and redline his initial packet, Chief."
Plumley nodded. "Good work. This is one of the important parts of leadership--helping your airmen achieve their goals. Even if their goal is to get out of the Air Force, they're your responsibility until they have their DD-214 in hand."
"Hoo-ah, Chief."
"All right. I'll send your two new guys to you as soon as they get here."
* * *
AIrman Robert Martinez and Airman Jacques Thibodeaux were both rather husky men, but Martinez was a native of Bakersfield, California, and Thibodeaux was from Lafayette, Louisiana.
Mantell wasn't entire sure about the proposed organization; she would oversee all four men, formed into two teams of two. She decided that Schettler would work better with Thibodeaux--the nickname "Ragin' Cajun" was something of a joke, as he was very easy-going. Martinez was the stronger personality and would balance Pardo fairly well.
* * *
11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT
Major Kelly Ray saluted Mantell, who returned the salute with the same precision he'd learned on the parade deck of Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego.
"Good to have you here, Major."
Within ten minutes, Josh and Kelly were well into planning the mission with their ops teams.
Kelly frowned at the locations. "What makes you so sure they're likely to be there?"
Josh smiled. "They're all USGS benchmarks that have been recovered in the last three years. Park the TEL on known offsets from the benchmark, and you can spin up the missile in about half the time because you already know the initial position and local vertical."
Kelly said, "They've surveyed a lot of firing points, though."
Mantell nodded. "But those are likely reserved for crisis or wartime operations. In peacetime, you can practice at a benchmark without giving away the location of your actual firing points."
Kelly nodded. "Makes sense."
Mantell explained his concept of operations. "We'll leave a comms cell at the 419th, and insert two teams each into the Wendover and Mountain Home missile boxes, plus one team into the Welch AIr Force Base training area. The mission of the SR teams is fairly simple: obtain and maintain contact with any missile convoys passing through or loitering in their AO. Our teams will maintain communication with the comms cell, and you can use the information we gather to build your strike package plans."
Re: The Vaults of Heaven (AU)
Posted: Mon Mar 04, 2024 1:41 am
by Poohbah
14 October 2010
Mantell Residence
Portneuf, ID
Jeanna stepped into the bedroom she shared with Debs and saw Debs lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Debs, you okay?"
Debs sighed. "No. I'm not okay at all."
Jeanna stripped and climbed in next to Debs. "I'm here for you, darling."
Debs smiled and kissed Jeanna.
"I appreciate that, my love. I've never thanked you for that brilliant idea of all of us marrying Josh." Debs chuckled. "I just wish he was here, he might straighten me out."
"What's wrong?"
Debs sighed, then said, "Got a call from Senator Forsyth's office today. It seems the Air Force has been reviewing service cross and Silver Star awards."
Debs was silent for a long time, then said, "My Air Force Cross is getting upgraded."
"I never knew you even had one."
"Only time I wore it was when General Cunningham pinned it on me, and at Maxwell when I went through OTS and I had to."
"Why didn't you wear it after that?"
"Jeanna . . . do the math. 72% of my airmen were dead or wounded 15 minutes into the war, and the Air Force tells me I'm a damn hero? Not like Josh. He and his fellow Marines manhandled the Brigada Tijuana and sent them running back to mamacita crying about how those gringos were using live ammo."
"You got woken up by mortar fire landing in the dorm parking lot. Josh got told he was going to war, and then they had to fly down to San Diego from Tustin. He had time to gird his loins. You didn't."
"I wish I could explain it away that glibly."
They snuggled together. After a long silence, Jeanna put a sultry tone on her voice. "I know what you really need, darling."
"Oh, some orgasms would be lovely, Jeanna. And I'd greatly enjoy returning the favor."
"Oh, yeah, you need some orgasms. But you also need to take a vacation, head down to Hill, and get yourself some Vitamin D, honey."
Debs' forehead, Jeanna decided, looked awfully cute scrunched up in befuddlement.
"Vitamin D?"
Jeanna held her hands apart. "About that much, delivered by Doctor Josh via intra--"
Debs suddenly caressed the back of Jeanna's thigh.
Jeanna started, then said, "I'm going to give you just two hours to stop that."
14 October 2010
Over the Wendover Range Complex
Special Reconnaissance Team CHICAGO watched the tail ramp of their MC-130P open.
The team leader, Chief Warrant Officer 4 Hunter Jackson, stood up and walked back to the beginning of the ramp. The rest of his team followed him.
The jumpmaster tapped his wrist, then held up one finger.
One minute.
The seconds went past quickly, and the green light came on, brilliant in Jackson's night vision goggles.
He stepped off of the ramp without hesitation and quickly assumed the stable free-fall position, waited five seconds, and pulled his ripcord. The chute opened, and he followed the steering cues displayed in his goggles to fly to the landing zone.
"Chicago 1, on track."
"Chicago 2, on track.
All seven jumpers reported they were on track, and Jackson smiled behind his oxygen mask.
14 October 2010
11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base
Mantell listened to the team's insertion report and smiled.
"Outstanding work, Chicago leader. Remember to walk without rhythm lest you attract Shai-Hulud."
Jackson laughed on the SATCOM circuit. "God created Wendover to train the faithful. Chicago out."
"Blackhorse out."
Major Jorgensen nodded. "All right, boss, you can head back to your room at the BOQ, we've got the watch."
15 October 2010
Mantell Residence
Portneuf, ID
Deputy Ronald Somers, head of the Detective Divsion, said, "Senator Forsyth told Sheriff Morgan the news, and he kinda figured you'd need some time off to figure out how you feel about it. Take as much time as you need, Debs. Don't worry about Bannock County, we'll muddle through like we always have. Take real good care of Debs Mantell first, because she's a wonderful person."
"Thanks, Ron. I'm headed down to Hill to discuss it with my husband."
"Safe travels."
"Thanks again."
They said good-bye and Debs hung up the phone. Roberta passed her a cup of coffee. "If you want to talk . . . "
Debs sipped the coffee, then gave Roberta a tender kiss. "Thanks. And maybe I should talk to you and Helen--"
Helen came down the stairs in her BDUs, duffel on her shoulder. "I wish I could, but the governor just called a no-notice mobilization drill, for both the 116th Armored Cav and the 116th Special Recon Squadron. Everyone's expected to drop their cocks--or va-jay-jays--and grab their socks, just like we're going to war for real."
Debs blinked. "This is the first truly no-notice alert I've seen in a while. LIke, since the war."
Helen nodded. "It's been remarked on in the regimental leadership group text." She kissed Debs. "Have fun with Josh at Hill, dear." She then kissed Roberta. "Bye, darling."
And she was out the door.
Roberta took Debs' hand and led her to the breakfast nook. They sat down, and Roberta said, "I'm just going to listen for now. Whatever you want to say . . . I'll listen, I'll give advice if you ask . . . and it'll be between just you and me, darling."
15 October 2010
11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill AFB, Ogden, UT
Mantell looked over the Mexican SITREP and frowned.
He got up and left his office, locking the door behind him, and went to the Intelligence shop.
Captain Jason Dowdell came to attention. "Good morning, sir!"
"Good afternoon." Mantell paused, then said, "Where, exactly, is the Special Mission Unit of the Brigada de Fusileros Paracaidistas?"
"The consensus is that they're in Mexico City, sir."
"Captain, I didn't ask about the consensus of where they are, I want to know where they actually are."
"Well, sir, the consensus of the intelligence community is--"
Mantell held up his hand. "Captain, I know your day job is at Willow Grove with the CIA, and you have to work with the intelligence community when you go back to the Company. But that's a 'you' problem, not a 'me' problem. Right now, you work for the Air Force, and specifically for the Commanding Officer of the 11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron, who just happens to be me. Now, you can either answer my question, or I will relieve you for cause and send you back to AFSOC Reserve Affairs with a charge sheet for Articles 92 and 133."
"Sir, I am not authorized to discuss certain specific intelligence items with you."
Mantell stared at Dowdell for a moment, then said, "Very well. Pack your trash, I'm cutting orders for you to return to Eglin. Right now, you're not getting charges. But you've demonstrated that I can't work with you. Begone!"
* * *
Headquarters, 2nd Special Reconnaissance Group
United States Air Force Reserve
Sijan AFB, Sherman, OK
Colonel Leto Berkeley sighed. "All right. I'll work on getting you a replacement."
Mantell's voice came over the speakerphone. "Thank you, sir."
Major John Yancey said, "Sir, I must protest. Captain Dowdell is one of the best targeteers I know. I believe he is being treated unfairly."
Mantell's voice came back. "Major, do you know what the squadron intelligence officer's job is?"
"To provide targeting information for--"
"No, Major. That's his deputy's job. The intel officer's job is far simpler--and far more difficult. The intel officer's job is to tell the squadron commander today, what the enemy is going to do tomorrow, next week, or next month. Nothing more--but he'd better deliver nothing less. Dowdell refused to give me a straight answer to a fairly simple question."
Mantell's voice was quiet--which made Berkeley shooting a warning glance at Yancey.
Unfortunately, Major Yancey didn't seem to pick up on it.
Yancey asked, "What was the question?"
"Where, exactly, is the Special Mission Unit of the Brigada de Fusileros Paracaidistas?"
Yancey said, "Well, the intelligence community consensus is--"
Berkeley said, "Colonel Mantell, we're going on mute here for a minute."
"Yes, sir."
Berkeley hit the mute button, then said, "Major, do you know the answer to Colonel Mantell's question? Not the question that you were answering--which, incidentally, he never asked--but the actual answer?"
"Sir, the intelligence community--"
"The intelligence community isn't going to be out there on the sharp end if it drops in the pot, Major. Mantell's operators will be. And if any of them come back alive, they're going to be looking for you, and I'm going to be in no mood to stop them. So, what's the actual answer?"
Yancey sighed. "I don't know. That's the guidance we've gotten on how to answer those sorts of questions--we give the intel community's best guess."
"But the IC isn't willing to sign their names to it?"
"No, sir."
"Christ Almighty, When we come off mute, you'd better explain that to Mantell."
* * *
Mantell sat back. Dear God.
After a moment, he asked, "Major Yancey, are you a student of history at all?"
"Not really, sir."
"Well, let me tell you a story, one that's directly relevant to your trade, even." He paused, then said, "In late November and early December of 1941, Naval Intelligence relied on radio direction-finding to get the location of enemy forces. Well, they had a problem. Kido Butai--the Imperial Japanese Navy's fleet carrier force--had gone radio silent. Nobody was transmitting. Naval Intelligence concluded, solely from this lack of evidence, that the Japanese carriers were almost certainly in Japan's home waters. Now, that was a particularly stupid conclusion to make, and we paid a dreadful price for being stupid. The history of American intelligence in the spring through late summer of 1985 would make for fascinating reading--I was there for some of it, by the way--but it's classified at echelons above reality because it's so damn embarrassing."
Mantell paused, then said, "Major, I told you all of that because I fully expect Mexico to do something stupid on or before January 1st, and my operators are going to be on the sharp end. You were a second grader on Day One. I was an active duty Marine. I intend to be fully ready for war for the next go-around. Anything interfering with my goal of said preparedness is going to be received in a very negative fashion, and I or my successor will have words about it with you after the war's over. Am I clearly communicating my expectations to you?"
There was a brief burst of noise from the far end before the call went on mute.
A few minutes later, Berkeley said, "Jesus God, Mantell, he just barfed into my trashcan! I'd say he got the message, though." Berkeley paused, then said, "Josh . . . straight up. I think Mexico would have to be extremely stupid to go for it."
"I agree with your assessment, sir."
"But you still think they'd do it?"
"Sir, Japan did it. Hell, Japan knew it was stupid, and they did it anyway. 'Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.' And the idiots down in the Dee-Eff ain't known for their humility, sir."
There was a long silence on the line. Finally, Berkeley said, "I wish I could argue otherwise Josh, but you know people much better than I do, truth be told, and this about people and personalities more than it's about statecraft and resources. All right. I concur with your estimate of the situation. I will impress on the COs of the 7th and the 116th that we should consider ourselves fortunate indeed if we manage to avoid going to war, and to start putting their command on a wartime footing--if not in terms of resources, in terms of mindset, and how to start looking at questionable events. That goes for you as well. You start seeing things that look hinky, report them to me immediately if not sooner, don't let your career sense talk you into ignoring that voice of experience."
"Hoo-ah, sir!"
* * *
15 October 2010
Clovis, NM
The Clovis Cattleman's Club was in the northeast corner of town. Once upon a time it had been for gentlemen only; after the war, economic and demographic shifts had forced the club to accept female members, and to recruit members from outside the cattle industry.
Kathy Mantell said, "Nobody's going to freak out, are they?"
"No, they know me and my predilections here. Don't worry. You look stunning, by the way."
Kathy was in Combo Ones, with trousers bloused onto spit-shined jump boots.
"I do?"
Becky smiled. "Absolutely."
The valet drove Becky's Audi off, and they walked into the entrance foyer, Becky in a formal dress, right arm looped through Kathy's left. Kathy glanced around; it reminded her of the entry to the Inkom Country Club back home. Kathy removed her beret and tucked it under the left epaulette of her uniform blouse.
A hostess came up and said, "Good to see you again, Ms. Parkinson. Table for two?"
Becky said, "Yes, Tina."
"Right this way."
Becky said, "You seem to be at home."
"Pretty much the same as the Inkom Country Club back home."
"Good, you'll fit right in."
At their table, a waiter took their wine order, and Kathy relaxed fractionally.
She said, "I always thought Clovis was a West Texas Bible Belt town."
"It was. Still sort of is, but things have changed a bit over the decades."
A woman's voice said, "Hello, Becky!"
Becky's face lit up in a delighted smile, and she stood up. "Ms. Jones! It's good to see you again!"
Kathy stood, and she saw a woman in her mid-forties.
"Oh, c'mon, Becky, it's Regina. You're officially an adult now."
"Regina, may I present Kathy Mantell?"
"Hello, Kathy." Regina gave Kathy an appraising glance. "Are you a police officer, or . . . ?"
"I'm a Special Reconnaissance Operator, ma'am."
"That sounds . . . well, bland but interesting. Do you fly?"
"No, ma'am, but I do parachute. I'm essentially the air component commander's eyes on the ground, finding targets." The incomplete description explained the parachute badges, but didn't explain all of the mission. It had been the first thing they'd learned in the training pipeline--how to answer nosy questions from civilians.
"Sounds dangerous."
"It can be, ma'am."
Regina nodded. "Well, I drove a tank in the war. It's good to see you youngsters stepping up."
* * *
15 October 2010
Hill Air Force Base
Ogden, UT
Josh stepped into the Officer's club and made his way to the bar. He saw Kelly Ray and waved--and noticed she was grinning like a lunatic when she waved back.
"Buy a girl a drink, flyboy?"
Josh turned and gave Debs a delighted smile.
"You're on."
After they got their drinks, he steered Debs to a quiet table.
"It's good to see you."
Debs sipped her drink and said, "Oh, you're a sight for sore eyes, dear." She sighed. "I got a nasty shock yesterday, and I need to talk about it--but after dinner, of course."
Mantell nodded. "Dinner first sounds like a marvelous idea."
They got up, and Josh began escorting Debs to the dining room entrance.
A voice came from behind him.
"Who's your lady friend, Mantell?"
Josh turned and saw Colonel Sobel.
"Good evening, sir. This is my wife, Deborah. Deborah, Colonel Sobel, commander of the 388th Fighter Wing."
Sobel didn't acknowledge the introduction. "I thought your wife's name was Roberta."
"I am married to four women, sir. It's unusual, but it works for us."
Sobel walked away, saying "Damn degenerates" just loud enough for Mantell to hear him.
Mantell continued leading Debs out, and was intercepted by Kelly. "I saw Sobel talking to you. Everything OK?"
Josh looked at Debs, who looked back and nodded. "I'm good."
Josh said, "Same here. He hates us, 'cause he ain't us. Folks like me, you, and Debs are just too awesomely awesome for his Regular Air Farce brain to handle. Hell, being Dave Sobel is more than sufficient punishment for him."
Kelly guffawed. "Josh, you are entirely too much! Well, enjoy your evening with your wife. Maybe the rest should set up a rotation schedule while you're here."
Debs chuckled. "Great idea! I'll pass it along."
* * *
15 October 2010
Wendover Range Complex
Jackson looked at the tablet display and nodded. They were in a small cave about 2,000 feet above the valley floor, looking to the west. The display showed the T-shaped geophone array they'd laid adjacent to the dirt road. The array was 200 yards by 200 yards, and would detect vehicle traffic; the T-shape allowed them to determine the direction of the traffic, and a program on the tablet allowed them to perform target motion analysis, making assumptions of vehicle speed and direction to determine if they could "stack the dots" and get a solid fix on the convoy's position without seeing it.
"Good work, Master Sergeant."
Master Sergeant Jonathan Light, said, "Thank you, sir. Sergeant Porter's in the adjacent cave with de la Fuente, and he's listening across the bands. He's even guarding HF in case SAC decides to go old-school."
"Good job." Porter was the team's primary "knob turner," listening for radio signals. Airman de la Fuente was his backup.
The remaining four members of the team were either asleep or watching for any sign that they'd been detected.
"All right. We wait for contact."
* * *
Josh ushered Debs into his VOQ room.
They sat down on the couch, and Debs was quiet for a moment.
"Josh . . . I've told Kathy this, when she was 13. But I never talked to you about it." She paused, then said, "Day One . . . I was at McConnell, part of the SAC CSP. You got told you were at war on your way to the squadron after morning chow, right?"
Josh nodded.
"I got woken up by a barrage of mortar fire and automatic weapons in the dorm parking lot. My roomie went up to the window to see what was going on . . . I think she was dead before she hit the floor, but I tried, God knows I tried . . . to give her first aid.
"I got my uniform on--I was on the 4th floor--and I had 25 people in total. I gave them a plan I came up with on the spur of the moment. We'd run to the base armory after jumping out the second floor windows on the back side of the barracks--if we'd tried to get to the first floor, we would've been right in the lobby and we'd all be dead. Once we got to the ground, everyone who could still move would run to the armory.
"7 people were injured in the jump--one broke her hip, two broken ankles, and the other four were sprains. So we started running. 18 people followed me.
"Seven plus me made it to the armory, I drew weapons, and we flanked the attackers, caught them with their pants down and dicks waving in the breeze, that's how unready they were for us. The Air Force decided I was a hero and pinned the Air Force Cross on me, then sent me straight to OTS. I never wore it after graduation."
Josh took Debs' hand and said, softly, "I love you."
"I know you do, darling."
* * *
Jackson looked at the display and said, "We've got trade coming from the southwest."
Light nodded.
Porter's voice suddenly came up on the team's short-ranged radio. "Six, this is Alpha."
"Alpha, Six, go."
"Six, Alpha, I just copied an HF zip-squeal from close by."
Jackson glanced at Light, who mouthed, Ionosphere or direct?
"Alpha, Six, was it direct path?"
"Affirmative, sir. And close. It sounded like the old R-350M sets we learned about in school."
Light's eyes widened.
"All right. Nobody talks, all hand signals. Silence, silence, silence."
Jackson plugged the tablet into the SATCOM base station, called up the control program, and got a green "SIGNAL ACQUIRED" icon.
He quickly tapped on the keyboard.
* * *
11th Strategic Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT
The SATCOM terminal dinged, signaling that it had received text traffic.
Major Clarissa Jorgensen looked at the display. The header said it was from Team CHICAGO, and there was a lat/long as well. The next line said simply:
POACHER POACHER POACHER