The Vaults of Heaven (AU)

[Matt Wiser]

The balloon is starting to get filled with air... The stupid prize will be SANDLINE.

[clancyphile]

Mantell watched him visibly work to contain his temper.

"All right, people, I need you all to take notes on what just happened. We're going to get relieved from this assignment as soon as I call in what just happened, and I want us ready to answer questions. Don't compare notes or discuss among yourselves, just write down your best and recollections of what we did and what the B-1 did."

Interesting set of orders...

Either way, I gather he is about to raise a big-time stink that WILL anger some folks at SAC, and his career might be a casualty.

[jemhouston]

And to a very unhappy Papa Bear, at that…

More than one. SAC Actual, SAC IG, actually the entire alphabet

I think SAC had better start praying for mercy, because the above named people will have none…

After all, to err is human; to forgive is not SAC policy…

SAC please define forgive. I'm unfamiliar with it.

[Wolfman]

More than one. SAC Actual, SAC IG, actually the entire alphabet

I think SAC had better start praying for mercy, because the above named people will have none…

After all, to err is human; to forgive is not SAC policy…

SAC please define forgive. I'm unfamiliar with it.

That’s what I effectively said.

[Belushi TD]

Josh said, "Once the ceasefire is broken, it's game on. We're not going to let Mexico lob missiles at us and then do nothing." He sighed. "25 years ago, we failed to deliver the one product any legitimate government must deliver: protection from foreign invasion. Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Wyoming, and Colorado remember that, and it's led to a very complicated and often strained relationship between those statehouses and Philadelphia."

Not to pick nits, but he forgot Alaska.

Belushi TD

[Poohbah]

Josh said, "Once the ceasefire is broken, it's game on. We're not going to let Mexico lob missiles at us and then do nothing." He sighed. "25 years ago, we failed to deliver the one product any legitimate government must deliver: protection from foreign invasion. Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Wyoming, and Colorado remember that, and it's led to a very complicated and often strained relationship between those statehouses and Philadelphia."

Not to pick nits, but he forgot Alaska.

Belushi TD

He was focused on the Southern Theater.

[Belushi TD]

I suppose that's true. There's also Montana, if I'm not mistaken, right? I thought a lobe got that far south.

Belushi TD

[Matt Wiser]

Seems a divisional recon battalion or two got across before either running into an ambush or being told to pull back and await further orders.

[Poohbah]

19 October 2010
10th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT

Chief Master Sergeant Charles Morton rapped on the door jamb of Mantell's office.

"Come on in, Chief."

Morton stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.

"All right, Chief, what are your thoughts?"

"All teams are good to go for the fundamental recon missions, sir. Cyber's a bit more hit or miss. ATLANTA's got a skills deficit in cyber ops with Master Sergeant Bronson's down check, but Staff Sergeant Henrick is really stepping up, sir. We might want to think about sending him to the 7-level cyber course at Petersen after this situation gets resolved."

Mantell made a note in his daily planner. "Understood. Teams SACRAMENTO and OLYMPIA are both short a 5-level each, but they've cross-trained their weather guys; ALBANY is 100%."

Morton said, "

Mantell asked, "How are we on environmental recon?"

"We're still transitioning to the new career management model where everyone is special recon and weather together. That's the bad news. The good news is that we still have a solid skill mix per the old model, and I suggest we use the older standards for team organization outside of DENVER and ALBANY, sir."

"Do it."

"Yes, sir."

19 October 2010
Lodge Manor
Portneuf Valley, ID

Adam Lodge opened the door and saw a man and a woman in smart, conservative business attire--and he could tell they were carrying.

The woman had black hair in a short style, dark eyes, and bronze skin. "I'm Special Agent Angela Ishtasapa, and this is Agent Brandon Mitrovich."

The man was lean and wiry, with Slavic features and blond hair.

The two agents held up their credentials, and Adam nodded.

"Welcome to my home. I'm Adam Lodge. Please, come in."

Adam led them to the sun room, which had a spectacular southern view across Johnny Creek to the Juniper Hills Country Club.

A carafe of coffee and a fresh-baked raspberry coffee cake were on the table. He ushered them into chairs and served up coffee and cake, then sat down.

He looked at Ishtasapa and said, "Allow me to guess: Sioux?"

The woman blinked, then said, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't a guess. How did you know?"

"I Googled your last name." He turned to Mitrovich and said, "And you're of Croatian descent."

Mitrovich blinked. "All right, what was the tell?"

Adam smiled. "The Boston College tie. You'd have one from the University of Saint Katherine if your family originally came from Serbia."

Ishtasapa said, "You're extremely observant, and you do your homework."

"Thank you. So, how can I help the FBI?"

Ishtasapa said, "You were recommended to us by one Joshua Mantell. Just for background, how long have you known him?"

Adam said, "34 years--we met in 6th grade religious education class. Later, we were classmates at the same high school. And we worked on a couple of missions together during the war." He looked at the agents, then said, "Something happened, I take it?"

Ishtasapa and Mitrovich looked at each other, then back at Adam. "Yes. Someone was hunting a missile convoy in Nevada, west of Wendover. Now, the bad guys had to have outside support."

Adam nodded. "And the bad guys are in no condition to answer questions, I take it."

Mitrovich said, "We were told that you know how to support clandestine operations."

Adam said, "Yes. I've done it here and there. Specifics are classified, of course."

Ishtasapa nodded. "We're not interested in what you actually did. What we'd like is to have you put yourself in the position of someone looking to establish the support networks needed. How would you go about doing it?"

* * *

Adam came back into the sunroom with a large-format road atlas. "All right, let's look this over. So, first things first: where would I put my support bases? The answer is in the nearest reasonably large city. For Mountain Home, that's Boise/Nampa area; for Wendover, Salt Lake City is the prime area; and for the Red Desert region, that one's going to be a tough one. Laramie, or Rock Springs would work but they're both pretty far from the target box. So that's where I'd look first, because they're going to have to accept more risk one way or another. I would stay in the bigger town and accept the distance as a known issue, because doing it from a small town is extraordinarily risky."

Mitrovich asked, "Why's that?"

Ishtasapa said, "I grew up in a small town--admittedly, on the reservation. New people are always subjects of gossip. Especially if they're doing stuff that's secretive."

Mitrovich asked, "Okay, we have places to start looking. Now, who would you look for as candidates for support?"

Adam said, "It depends on if I have a lot of time to set this up or not. And my gut is telling me that this was set up fairly recently, and whoever was running the show needed results quickly. So, my guess is that your support people are going to be women. No younger than 25, no older than 50. Single women preferred by a country mile, but the right married woman would work."

Ishtasapa frowned. "Why women?"

Adam asked, "Before I answer that, would anyone like more cake or coffee? I don't want anyone hangry when I start talking about how I would do recruiting, because it will get into things like who we are and how we perceive the world."

Both agents accepted another piece of coffee cake and a cup of coffee. Adam also took a piece and a cup for himself.

"So, there's the classic formula: MICE, Money, Ideology, Compromise, Ego. But those are just the sockets for the wrench. Someone has to actually turn the wrench--and that means he or she has to find the bolts that can be turned, as well. The first thing to understand is that men and women are different, and that means that you are going to recruit them differently. There are some similarities: if I just show up in Boise with a couple of Halliburton Zero cases full of Benjamins and start waving money around to get people to support my shady enterprise, I'm going to be a guest in the county jail in a matter of hours, and that goes whether or not I try recruiting men or women. And that's assuming I don't just end up bleeding out in the alley behind a bar, and minus my suticases."

Both agents chuckled.

"So, men and women are different. Unless I have someone ready to go already--and that means there was an advance team taking the same kinds of risks I would be taking, and possibly calling attention to my operation before it's even started--that means I'm recruiting when I show up, and not before. If I have enough time, I can recruit damn near any man without him knowing he's even been recruited. But I probably have a short timeline to execute in. So I'm going to be recruiting women."

Ishtasapa blinked. "I don't get it. Are you saying women are less self-aware?"

Lodge said, "No, just the opposite, actually. With men, you have to gently slide past their ego--if they ever fully realize they're being played before the hook is set, they're going to be enraged, and male anger usually ends up being externally directed. I probably end up bleeding out in that alley behind the bar."

Mitrovich nodded. "All right, that part makes sense."

"As a general rule--not in particular, just in general--women, if offered something that they perceive they need, are more willing to just not see certain things. This is, in part, because women typically understand better than men do that life is about tradeoffs, and that getting along requires a certain amount of going along. Their higher self-awareness and more realistic understanding of the real world can thus be used against them through subtle redirection. But I have to be offering something that they believe they need. If I get the commodity on offer wrong, I've blown the recruitment, and quite probably the entire operation--because, again, women are more aware of tradeoffs, and they understand that nobody is offering them something for nothing. If I'm lucky, she just tells all her female friends, and all the women in the community now officially hate me. If I'm unlucky, she tells a male friend, and I end up lying in an alley behind a bar--"

Ishtasapa said, "Bleeding out, and possibly with empty pockets?"

Lodge smiled. "Yes." He sipped his coffee, then said, "With women, it's either a very quick recruitment--I get them halfway into the river so that the only way out of the deep water is by completing the crossing--or I never recruit them, and I may need to escape and evade."

"All right, let's do a hypothetical--let's say you're trying to recruit me."

"I'd have to get to know more about you to be sure. But doing a cold reading . . . well, money is right out."

Mitrovich blinked. "How did you figure that so quickly?"

"How both of you reacted to this place told me. My wife owns most of AthenaSoft. Her net worth is ten billion and change. She wanted a stunning manor home. She got one. I could tell that both of you appreciated the house for it's beauty and comfort--but both of you reacted along the lines of, 'So this is how the other half lives. That's cool.' Neither of you were particularly envious or covetuous. You both perceive yourselves as having enough wealth--you're reasonably certain that a sudden illness won't bankrupt you, that you have enough cash on hand to deal with life's likely surprises, and that when the time comes, you'll be able to enjoy retirement in a way that suits you. So, your wealth urge is fully satisfied. Both of you probably could earn a lot more money working as lawyers, but to what end? What would you get besides a bigger paycheck that you don't feel you really need, anyway? There is something each of you finds profoundly satisfying about being FBI agents."

Mitrovich blushed.

Lodge said, "Hit a nerve?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Look, there's right and wrong. Shortly after the end of the war, someone scammed one of my high school teachers out of a big chunk of her life savings, and it crushed her spirit. We all passed the hat for her and she got some of it back . . . but she wasn't going to be able to retire when she wanted to, or do all of the things she'd planned. So, I wanted to stop bad guys."

Ishtasapa smiled. "I'm the same way; I got hooked on Tony Hillerman novels in high school, and I started off as a tribal police officer. The FBI offered me a chance to work in a wider world. So, money won't work. What do you think might work on me?"

Lodge looked at her carefully, then said, "Something . . . more spiritual, let's say."

She blinked. "What makes you say that?"

"You've cut your hair short. From my reading about Sioux culture, that's generally associated with a significant personal loss--"

Ishtasapa held up a hand, and Lodge went silent.

After a moment, Ishtasapa said, "My mother passed away this past summer."

Lodge crossed himself. He then said, "My condolences on your loss."

Mitrovich said, "Angela, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Please accept my condolences as well."

Adam prayed silently.

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

After another moment, Ishtasapa said, "Thank you, both of you. And, yes, Mr, Lodge . . . you hit dangerously close to home for me. You're actually a little scary now. I see a man who lives in a beautiful home, with a family he's obviously very proud of . . . and yet, a man who could figure out how to get people to do things that they shouldn't. Because I could see myself following you."

Lodge said, "That part of my life is done; I never particularly enjoyed doing it, and I'm now quite content to be as good a husband and father as I can. And the good news here is that you've moved to a higher plane of self-awareness; my Jedi mind tricks will no longer work on you. So, you're looking for a woman, probably single, and she's started behaving . . . oddly. Bad news is that even in a small city, that's a lot of women. Good news is, in this day and age, she's going to get snitched out in the local neighborhood social media group. The hard part will be discriminating the signal from all the noise."

19 October 2010
Cannon Air Force Base
Clovis, NM

Captain Barrett, the squadron adjutant, called "TEN-HUT!"

AIrman Sergeant Mantell stood up and came to attention, along with the rest of the room.

Colonel Michael Reese, from the Air Force Special Operations Command Inspector General's Office, walked into the room and stood at his seat, looking over the members of Special Reconnaissance Team IDAHO.

Mantell noted that he wore Command Pilot Wings; he'd flown F-16s during the war.

Regular Air Force from the Academy, turn square corners, yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir!

One of her father's jokes bounced around inside her head: What do you say to an enlisted airman in Combo Ones? "Will the defendant please rise?"

Somehow, it wasn't as funny now as it had been when she'd been in JROTC at Century High.

Reese looked at the enlisted stenographer, who nodded fractionally.

"For the record, this is the disposition of the instant Judge Advocate General Manual Investigation. In summary, Special Reconnaissance Team IDAHO of the 10th Special Reconnaissance Squadron acted in accordance with orders from higher command echelons and in accordance with best operational practices. This investigation is closed."

* * *

Fowler said, "All right, the system worked correctly. Now let's go over what we did right and what we did wrong."

Pardo and Schettler looked at each other, then at Mantell.

Mantell said, "Speak up."

Schettler said, "It seemed kind of silly to wander around a couple slivers of a 9,000 square mile patrol box and hope we would run into the bad guys."

Fowler nodded. "Good point. My understanding is that AFSOC was tasked to not just stand there, but to do something."

Barnes said, "It would be nice if we could work smarter and not harder, sir."

"I've already raised that issue with the command triad, and they're having an officers' call in an hour to discuss."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

After inspecting the team's equipment and stowing it in the gear cage, cleaning their rifles, and a final review of the base and squadron plans of the day, Fowler said, "See you all on Friday morning. Good job out there."

Mantell went back to the dormitory to find Chief Plumley leading a floor inspection.

"Sergeant Mantell, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that your floor passed inspection. The bad news is that you're the new floor NCO, and it's going to be on you to make sure your floor is ready to pass inspection for the next three months."

"Understood, Chief."

Plumley came close and spoke quietly. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can get considering I was danger close for a supersonic JDAM run."

Plumley nodded. "It's being worked."

"Chief . . . there's gaps in the Buffalo Wings, but big Air Force . . . even America as a whole . . . we're not ready, are we?"

Plumley was silent for a minute. Finally, he said, "The Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force has a recommended reading list. The American Way of War by Russell Weigley is on it, and I strongly urge you to read it. But that's not the real American way of war; it's academic and sterile, it doesn't capture how we are as Americans. The truly American way of war is that we get caught completely flat-footed because whatever war we land in is most not assuredly anything we ever planned for, and the folks in the echelons above reality panic, whether they're wearing fine suits or Combo Ones.

"Meanwhile, the unified and specified commanders will come in slowly, cautiously, new to combat command. The people in Philadelphia will be on their backs, with no real idea what the heck is happening. Message traffic will be coming hot and heavy: 'Don't just stand there! Do something!' America's best will charge valiantly . . . and, if we guess wrong, they will be butchered valiantly, because the enemy knew the score before we did. Afterwards, men in fine suits and wearing expensive watches will thump their chests and say what a brave charge it was.

"The call of duty will be heard first by people like you, and me, and the rest of the Buffalo Wings. It will fall on us to hold the line, and to figure out how to fight and win the war we just got handed. Just as it fell on your father 25 years ago. He was one of my Warrant Officer Candidates at Eglin, and he told me about how he'd asked his Gunnery Sergeant the same question in 1984 you just asked me.

"We aren't ready, we're never ready. Then again . . . the enemy isn't going to be ready, either, not really. They may get initial success, but then they have to figure out what to do next, and that's always tough when you're the weaker guy who just started a fight with the biggest and meanest guy in the bar. America may not win the first battle; we seldom do. But, by God, we will win the last battle."

Plumley looked at Mantell carefully, then said, "Enjoy your downtime. Things are going to accelerate from here. And keep cultivating that relationship with that young lady. It'll keep you grounded, and you'll need that--God knows Donna kept me sane during the war. Don't let stupid war movies frighten you into thinking that being in a committed relationship means you're doomed."

"Understood, Chief."

19 October 2010
Strategic Air Command Headquarters
Little Rock Air Force Base
Little Rock, AR

General Wasley looked at the man standing before him.

"Lieutenant General Cartwright, it's generally pretty rude to drop 8 tons of munitions half a mile from friendlies without giving them a heads up. It's downright insubordinate to ignore mission planning guidance and seek to maximize damage expectancy beyond reasonable expectations and ignore mandatory standoff distances. And it's absolutely idiotic to release weapons way the hell outside of their aerodynamic limits. That last is the real sin--those stars on your shoulder mean that the first thing you're paid to do is think, damn it all! There are seven airmen who are extremely lucky to still be alive. You are hereby relieved for cause. Get out of my sight."

After Cartwright left, Wasley said, "Is Colonel Lyle out there?"

Colonel John Lyle marched into Wasley's office, saluted, and said, "Sir Colonel Lyle reports as ordered!"

"All right, let's see what you've got."

Lyle handed two folders over. Wasley opened the first. "Mm-hmm . . . loss of confidence in his ability to lead . . . mm-hmm . . . very good. Concise and to the point, doesn't embarrass him any more than absolutely necessary . . . good work." Wasley then opened the second file. The document inside was longer, but Wasley read it quickly.

"Excellent summary of the issues . . . solid recommendations to prevent a repeat occurrence." Wasley grabbed a page handwritten in green ink. "These are my personal observations, work them in at the end of the document, append "GEN WASLEY SENDS," and get it out to the ALSACACT collective address for action. Send INFO copies to AFSOC and 23rd Air Force."

"Yes, sir."

[Matt Wiser]

General Wasley take his leadership lessons from Sundown Cunningham? Because that's exactly how Sundown dealt with incompetents, slackers, and Carson types.

[jemhouston]

People go and do things where they find the greatest rewards.

General Wasley has his act together and making sure his people also do. This might be the best time to find out that a three star doesn't have his act together. I have the feeling that's not the only relief for cause.

The IG is going the easy stuff first.

[clancyphile]

COL/BGEN Pete Frazier is the one who really needs to be on the hot seat. Cartwright goes under the principle of command responsibility, but Frazier's the guy who really messed up.

The B-1 crew was just following orders.

[Poohbah]

COL/BGEN Pete Frazier is the one who really needs to be on the hot seat. Cartwright goes under the principle of command responsibility, but Frazier's the guy who really messed up.

The B-1 crew was just following orders.

HQ kinda expected 8AF to not do stupid stuff with the loadout or delivery profile.

[jemhouston]

Question was that Bone loaded for another say a training flight with live ordnance drop and get diverted or was it the alert bird for that mission? If the former, they only needed one bomb do the work, if the later, 8th was seriously stupid.

[Poohbah]

01 November 2010
11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT

Mantell watched the new intelligence officer walk across the parking lot.

"XO?"

"Sir!"

"Is the Air Force commissioning Captains directly out of junior high now?"

Major Jorgensen chuckled. "No, sir, we're just getting old."

* * *

"SIr, Captain Charlotte Thurston reports!"

Mantell returned her salute and looked at his new intelligence officer. She was a petite redhead, and hadn't gotten any older in the previous fifteen minutes.

"All right, Captain, I have one question for you: what is your job here?"

Thurston's face didn't flicker. "Sir, my job is to assess the enemy's capabilities and intentions. In short, I'm supposed to be able to tell you what he can do, and what he will attempt to do tomorrow--today."

Mantell said, "Outstanding! Welcome aboard. Be advised, this isn't going to be a simple assignment. We've been active since Ocotber 1st, and we saw combat only a week later."

Thurston's eyes went wide.

* * *

05 November 2010
VOQ, Hill Air Force Base

The Skype application on his laptop lit up with an incoming call.

It was Bobbi, out in California.

She looks like Helen did back then.

"Hi, punkin!"

"Hi, Dad."

"That didn't sound good."

"It isn't."

"Okay, let's go down the checklist. You still got all your fingers and toes?"

"Yes, Dad. And my car's in one piece, my grades are outstanding, and overall, things are going well."

Josh waited.

Bobbi sighed. "Well . . . except . . . except for my personal life."

Josh waited.

"Dad . . . how do you find that someone?"

Josh started laughing.

"Dad, what is so funny?"

"Oh, Bobbi . . . you're barely out of high school, you're taking on being an architecture major and a civil engineering minor, and here you are, trying to plan your romantic life the same way you plan a career or a project."

"Dad, failing to plan is planning to fail."

"Bobbi . . . do you really think I planned my love life? For even a minute? Hell, no, I didn't. That was your mothers that did that."

Bobbi stared at him through the camera.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Come on, punkin, you know how it is at Estancia Mantell. If I say you're doing this, or you're not doing that, and you have a logical argument to the contrary, I'll hear you out. But when your mothers are united--"

Bobbi giggled. "Yeah, I might as well talk to the wall, I might actually have a prayer of winning that argument."

"Well, there I was, my first night at the house after getting released on leave from the Air Force at war's end. And Mama Jeanna laid out the plan, it was obvious that all four of them were in one accord, and I said, in so many words, 'yes, dear.' Mama Jeanna and Mama Debs were legally married, and so were Mama Roberta and Mama Helen. Officially, I was a good friend living there. Unofficially, I was their husband, and they were all sister-wives."

Bobbi's forehead crinkled.

"I thought Idaho legalized polygamy."

"They did it by accident, and that happened two years later. By then I was father to Kathy and Zach, and you were on the way."

"Oh."

"My point is . . . I didn't plan it that way. Once upon a time, before the war, I wanted to marry Roberta. Well, we had problems, we split up the night before the war, and then things happened. Then . . . well, I thought I was going to marry Kathy Barzanian. She was murdered. And that's where our unconventional home life originated. Your mothers helped me grieve, and then brought my heart back to life. You know your cousin Michael? He almost died of meningitis in 1989, and Mama Jeanna needed love and support. She got it from all four of us--but it was the first time I was fully in on someone else's pain after Kathy died. Mama Debs' parents disowned her because she'd fallen in love with Mama Jeanna, and I ended up walking her down the aisle and Estancia Cañon.

"And all four of them decided three things: they all loved me, they all loved each other, and they wanted me to father their children. And one fine night, Mama Jeanna and Mama Roberta got thoroughly sloshed, and they went from 'we want this' to 'this is how we're going to make it happen.' Mama Jeanna bought the house in Portneuf when she found out I was going to Idaho State after the war, Mama Roberta designed my bedroom suite, and they invited me to move in.

"When I got there, they laid it out for me, and that was that."

Bobbi said, "You could've said no."

Josh laughed, and Bobbi said, "No, really!"

Josh stopped laughing, paused, then said, "No, not really. Because I realized something important: as much as they loved me . . . I loved them. There's a saying that, in good times, your friends know you, and in bad times, you know your friends. Across those months after Kathy was murdered, and after I helped shut down RamDyne . . . all four of them worked together to keep me from eating a bullet in my grief. And once I was back to normal . . . I couldn't see life without them. When I drove from Williams Air Force Base to Portneuf . . . I knew roughly what was going to happen, and I'd decided on that drive that I was going to be the best husband and father I could be, and that I would love and cherish all four of them as my wives."

Bobbi sighed. "Dad . . . you're a bigtime romantic at heart."

"We Mantells are like that."

Bobbi chuckled. "Well . . . yeah, I'm a romantic, I want that true love, my soulmate, et cetera . . . but you know me, Dad, I'm hyper-organized. How do I reconcile those two traits?"

"You seriously asking?"

"Yeah."

"Easy: be organized in every other aspect of your life. Accept that you're not going to be able to organize your love life; your grandfather taught me that love is blind, stupid, and crazy. Just . . . leave space in your life for those moments. Trust that there are people out there you can love. Don't try to force it to happen; just accept that, sometimes, you're not going to be receptive for whatever reason, or that there aren't any viable prospects this night, and find something else to do. I've heard so many women say over the years, 'I don't want to sleep in an empty bed.' But let me say this: the bed's not empty if you're in it."

Bobbi sipped a beer, then said, "Dad . . . what does that even mean?"

"It means . . . there are worse things than being alone. It means, really, you should try to be good company for yourself first. Maybe being alone is a chance to explore something inside you that needs to be addressed, or to have an adventure in learning something, or to be there for a friend who needs encouragement, or to perform an act of charity for a stranger, one that otherwise wouldn't happen."

Bobbi nodded. "That makes sense." She smiled. "Thanks, Dad. It's amazing how smart you've gotten since I graduated."

"Same thing happened to my Dad. Must run in the family. Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, Dad. Gotta go, the washer downstairs should be finished now."

The call ended, and Mantell sat there for a moment, wondering just how in the hell he ended up being smart enough to give advice to his kids.

Dad . . . I don't know how you helped me become a wiser man today, because I was a first-rate fool when you passed on. But thank you.

[Matt Wiser]

Hopefully, the new Captain has been briefed on what's going on. If not, a few days to immerse herself in the intel will be necessary.

[jemhouston]

The fact she didn't know, means it's not common AF gossip. Which means, it's not public knowledge yet. Which is good.

[Wolfman]

The look on her face reads as ‘What have I gotten myself into?’

[jemhouston]

The look on her face reads as ‘What have I gotten myself into?’

Spear's tip, or more like the footing the spear wielder is standing on. Her job is to make sure it's as solid as possible.

[Poohbah]

08 November 2010
10th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Cannon Air Force Base, Clovis NM

Mantell looked over Schettler, Pardo, Thibodeaix, and Martinez, and found their Class A uniforms to be inspection ready. She inspected their haircuts and shaves, and was satisfied.

The actual inspection was anticlimactic; the inspection wasn't quite perfunctory, but it was done quickly by having all of the officers inspecting the troops.

Colonel Barton then said, "Everyone fall out and form a circle on me."

They did so. Mantell saw puzzled expressions here and there.

"All right, this is close hold, even if it ends up on CNN and in the papers: effective immediately, all Special Recon squadrons are now under the command of Joint Special Operations Command, with tasking to follow. Right now, our tasking is to ensure we're ready.

"We all know what happened out there. JSOC is taking over the mission space, and we will report readiness to them through the Defense Readiness Reporting System. My expectations are that we will identify our mission readiness gaps by the end of this week, and develop remediation plans by the end of next week, whereupon we will train. I know it sucks being confined to the local area for leave and liberty, but the situation requires us to be on alert. Maybe the bigshots in Mexico City will realize they aren't going to win this one; but maybe we'll have to do something. Ready and Forward!"

Mantell felt something nameless grab at her heart as she shouted with the rest of the squadron: "READY AND FORWARD!"

I'm where I'm supposed to be.

* * *

8 November 2010
11th Special Reconnaissance Squadron
Hill Air Force Base, Ogden, UT

The phone on Mantell's desk rang. The display read 11TH SRS SEC CHKPT.

"Commanding Officer."

"Uh, sir . . . there's a Mr. Mantell here to see you, he's got White House credentials identifying him as a Navy three-star . . . but he's in civvies."

Josh smiled. "Send him in."

Vice Admiral Michael Mantell, Josh decided, had aged like good hickory. He had proper "senior executive hair," dark, dense, well-coiffed, and silver at the temples; his face had developed wrinkles, but they showed character and wisdom, and the ones around his eyes reflected a man who smiled readily and laughed easily.

Which was something the Advisor to the President for National Security Affairs needed.

Josh came to attention and saluted. Mike waved it off. "For fuck's sake, Josh, it's me, the guy who short-sheeted your bed when you were six."

"Good to see you, Mike. What brings you all the way from the Ritz-Carlton to my humble digs?"

"The boss sent me out here. Officially, I'm giving an address at BYU this afternoon, discussing the coming challenges facing America and the world--rapidly changing technology, political and economic shifts in South America and the Far East, and so on. Unofficially, I'm here to touch base with you and the FBI regarding the situation. Listen, the response to this fracas in Wendover and elsewhere is just coming under control now--this wasn't one of the GOFO community's finer moments, aside from some bright stars here and there. The boss told Admiral Mullen over in the E-Ring to get things shipshape in proper Bristol fashion immediately, if not sooner. JSOC has control of all Special Recon units--even the 116th up at Gowen."

Josh nodded. "We got the traffic this morning, and we're doing readiness inputs now."

"All right. Second . . . your old high school buddy thoroughly frightened one of the better FBI agents in the Salt Lake field office, someone I was considering poaching for the NSC. Special Agent Angela Ishtasapa. From just a very limited set of cues and a little Googling before the meeting . . . he figured out how he'd recruit her, and she was not ready for that, not at all. She found it extremely unnerving."

"I have a basic understanding of how Adam's outfit handled recruiting. It only works if the target doesn't know it's coming. Self-awareness is always uncomfortable at first--I've built enough character over the years to know. If she's any good at all--and you seem to think she is--she'll get over it if you give her a chance to prove herself."

Mike nodded. "Like when my brigade commander told me halfway through plebe year that there's a difference between 'being confident' and 'being an arrogant flaming asshole.' That took some time for me to adjust to, and he made it go by really fast by making me work my ass off the rest of the year. Noted, I'll pass that to the SAIC to work her like a rented mule. Break-break, this is a heads up. Big Air Force is, on the one hand, glad we found out about this shit show now as opposed to, say, in the middle of an actual crisis--but, on the other hand, a lot of folks are kind of worried that it was your unit that found the problem. About the only one that could've been worse from their perspective is Colonel Lodge."

Josh said, "I am getting a sense that there's a gripping hand somewhere in the picture."

"Good guess. The gripping hand is that you make the intelligence community nervous. Now, there's history, and I've explained to them that doing stupid shit like giving the keys to the kingdom during the war to guys they know were fucking lunatics definitely caused some long-term trust issues. But they're also worried that you or Sophie Lodge might decide to take a run at 1600 in 2012, and that history then becomes a serious work-related issue."

It took Josh a moment to get the reference.

"Wait. 1600, as in Pennsylvania Avenue?"

"July 4th, 2012 is our target date for completing the relocation of the National Capitol back to DC. Cleanup of the last hotspots of fallout was certified complete way back in 2006. Everyone's been busting their asses since 1997 to rebuild, generally west to east. Some agencies are already relocated, but the Cabinet level departments are going to start moving down this January. And on that July 4th week, America is going to throw the biggest damn party we've ever seen since Tommy J wrote that memo to King George III that started, "'When in the course of human events . . . ' Josh, whoever wins in 2012 is going to be moving into the White House. And a bunch of folks are terrified that one of you two might carpe diem and run as an outsider."

Josh rolled his eyes.

"Look, half the country thinks I'm a degenerate--"

"Not even. Most of the country thinks it's none of anyone's business who anyone is married to, what the sleeping arrangements are, et cetera, as long as everyone is a consenting adult, and the kids are raised properly. Anyone who's met your kids knows they have their heads screwed on straight. And both of you are dreams come true for a campaign narrative. Wartime heroes, recipient of the nation's highest award--"

"Huh?"

"Oh, you didn't know? She never told you?"

Josh shook his head. "I had no idea."

"It was a classified citation. Classified with damn good reason, too. Someone almost leaked that bit to the Philadelphia Inquirer last year, but the guy she leaked it to already knew the story, knew why it was classified, and let us know about the leak."

Josh sighed, then said, "Mike, nobody gets me--or Sophie. We're a lot alike. Neither of us ever set out to seek martial glory-- we just did our duty as best we could. Sophie and I didn't set out to be billionaires--that came about from wanting to craft the best firewall and intrusion detection suites possible, and to use our skills to support our families. And neither of us want political office. The only way either of us would run is if all of the other possible choices were incompetent, corrupt, or insane. If either of us is the most responsible adult in the room at the national level, I fear for the Republic. If the powers that be are hell-bent on keeping us out of politics, all they will ever have to do is ensure that the mainstream nominees are competent, honorable, sane people. That's all that needs to happen."

Mike nodded. "All right. I will relay that to President Powell, and let him talk privately to the RNC and DNC. That said . . . you have managed to live in interesting times, and to come to the attention of important people."

"I know. CINCSAC is pestering AFSOC to send me on a road show."

"CSAF is cutting orders for you to do so. And your final stop will be the Ritz-Carlton. By request of my boss."

"They still have the same concierge? African-American gentleman, somewhat less hair on his head than a cue ball, dresses impeccably, can tell you what's what with perfect grace, and always knows exactly what you need?"

"Charon? You're damn right he's still there. The White House staff wouldn't have it any other way."

8 November 2010
VOQ, Hill Air Force Base

Josh Mantell was watching CNN's coverage of the Baja situation. The Mexican government had stated the annexation was an act of war against Mexico and would be resisted with all possible force, and that the US would be forced to return the land "stolen" from Mexico in 1846-48 and 1853.

The anchor for this segment was Janelle Shaw, someone Josh had learned to keep an eye on. She was a typical news anchor--blandly attractive in a wholesome Midwestern way--but she had a Master's in International Relations from Marquette University, and a doctorate in history from UCLA. Her thesis had been on US nuclear strategy during the Third World War, and she'd drawn some conclusions at variance with the accepted wisdom--but that seemed to be congruent with the Moscow Files.

"With me tonight is retired United States Air Force General John Vandenhelden, who served two tours as a Raven Forward Air Controller in Laos, as well as two further tours in Vietnam. During World War III, he served in multiple billets within the Air Force and Allied Air Forces Southern Theater. He eventually retired as the Director of Operations for the Joint Staff in 2002. General Vandenhelden, welcome to CNN."

"Thank you, Ms. Shaw, it's good to be here."

"So, what is your assessment of the present situation?"

"I find it very concerning on one level, and utterly unconcerning on another. On one level, I find the rhetoric being used by Mexico City alarming, because there's no backing down from that sort of talk without looking weak, and inviting a coup attempt. On another level, they'd have to be idiots to try anything. Unfortunately, the human race is oversupplied with idiots. So, I am concerned that something will happen; I'm utterly unconcerned about the final outcome."

Shaw nodded. "And what would those consequences be?"

Vandenhelden "It's been in some histories of the war as to what we had planned after Brownsville, but it's going to be SANDLINE at least. At most? We go all the way to Mexico City and end this. Once and for all. The Marines probably have a duty roster of Lance Corporals to assign to stand guard at Chapultepec Castle if it comes to that."

The discussion turned to likely invasion routes; Vandenhelden observed that military geography hadn't changed all that much in 162 years.

Mantell turned off the television and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.

They have to know what will happen if they push it. So the smart move is to not push it. But I can't shake my gut feeling that they're going to do it. So, they think they have something that will give them victory. But what could that be?