The Vaults of Heaven (AU)

[Lordroel]

Let me guess: the Mexicans found out-probably via DGI or KGB, who planned Baja in '89. Whether it was via Congressional hearings, open-source material, or being handed a classified after-action report on how it went down...

Or some eager-beaver Senator‘s aide^^

There is always a Mexican-American they can send not so nice photos and maybe a finger ore two of their families still in Mexico to, that will get them some information i guess.

[Matt Wiser]

There is one possibility: one Anna Belen Montes. She was a high-level analyst at DIA, and though recruited prewar, didn't being spying until after-and after the Cubans reestablished some illegal networks along the East Coast. She had a lot of access at DIA, and passed a ton of information to the DGI. She wasn't caught until 2001, and did twenty years in Federal Prison. What kept her off of the gallows at USP Terre Haute? She plead guilty because they had her dead to rights, agreed to cooperate with FBI and CIA debriefers, and unfortunately (or otherwise, depending on one's POV), she didn't begin actively spying for the Cubans until postwar. DOJ took the death penalty off the table in exchange for all of that. If there's one source to DGI (and thus Mexican Intelligence) who knew who planned Baja in '89 and could pass that along, it was her.

[Poohbah]

11 December 2010
Lodge Manor
Portneuf Valley, ID

Adam got back to the house just in time to hear the landline ringing.

Wouldn't be Sophie.

"Lodge residence."

"Hello, VAQUERO."

"Is that V as in Vexatious?"

"V as in Voluble, A as in Asterisk, Q as in Query, U as in Ullage--"

"All right, you're who you say you are."

"We're recalling you."

"Got discharged 20 years ago, homie."

"Look up Title 10 United States Code, Section 12690. I'll wait."

Lodge grabbed the iPad and looked up the reference.

12690: Reserves: Special Inactive Reserve (SIR)

1. Any service member who:

(a) performed duties of 'an unusually broad nature and degree of discretion for substantial rank held' as defined in Section 12688 of this title; and
(b) is discharged on or after January 1st, 1990;

Shall be immediately enrolled, without any break in service, into their service's Special Inactive Reserve Component with an indefinite release date.

2. Special Inactive Reserve Personnel are specifically prohibited from participation in annual Individual Ready Reserve (IRR) musters and/or reserve component drill periods.

3. Special Inactive Reserve Personnel may be recalled to active duty under the provisions of Section 12304 of this title when, in the judgement of the President of the United States, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of their SIR component, or any persons designated in writing by the above individuals, the national security of the United States requires their services. Any such recall shall be made at the highest grade of satisfactory performance . . .

Lodge said, "Goddamnit."

"I'm not exactly thrilled to have you back, either. The rules are different now. Get over to Mountain Home, one of my people will meet you at the main gate."

* * *

11 December 2010
Mountain Home Air Force Base
Mountain Home, ID

After getting cleared through the main gate much faster than he'd expected, Adam saw a woman in ABUs with a field jacket holding a sign reading "LODGE." He pulled over, and rolled down the passenger window.

The woman wore Master Sergeant chevrons. "VAQUERO?"

"E as in EVERGREEN?"

"E as in EDELWEISS, R as in ROMANOV."

He unlocked the passenger door, and the woman climbed in.

"Master Sergeant Barbara Sisco."

"Chief Warrant Officer Lodge." Adam looked at her closely, then asked, "You wouldn't be kin to anyone named Karen, would you?"

"My aunt. The cool one."

Adam nodded. "What's she up to these days?"

"She retired from the Marshals a few years ago, and now she writes police procedurals. Lives in Miami."

"Tell her Chief Lodge said hi. You a Ghostrunner?"

Sisco nodded. "And you're the prime example they use of how operations shouldn't run."

"Never had a mission failure, Master Sergeant."

"These days, they say that breaking stealth mode is a mission failure."

"Rather have a dead operator than a live operator and awkward questions?"

Sisco nodded.

"Damn it." He sighed. "How's morale?"

"In the shitter. Mostly because we aren't running missions."

* * *

In the base headquarters building, Sisco led him to a SCIF. Inside were Ishtasapa, Mitrovich, an attractive blonde a few years younger than he was, and a couple of body builders whose demeanor screamed "SWAT."

Ishtasapa gestured to the blonde, who said, "I'm U.S. Marshal Julie Tavella, District of Idaho. With me are Deputy Marshals Bryan Willis and Aidan Kiefer." The two SWAT guys nodded once apiece, visibly dismissing Lodge as any sort of threat.

Lodge said, "Please tell me you're not going to use those Special Operations Group meatheads on clandestine surveillance."

Tavella winced, then grabbed her purse and pulled a $20 bill out. "Goddamnit, Angela, warn a sister, will ya?"

Ishtasapa took the money and said, "I did."

Lodge said, "So, y'all did know who that guy was."

Tavella said, "His name is Juan Doe."

Lodge waited, eyes locked on Tavella.

Tavella said, "We don't have anything beyond his picture. He was active in Florida during the Cuba mess last year. We believe he planted a few bombs, whacked a couple of anti-Castro exiles, et cetera, and so on, and so forth. Our first thought was that he was with one of the Colombian or Venezuelan cartels, but he was too well trained. He's considered to be armed and extremely dangerous."

Lodge rolled his eyes. "And you all think it's a good idea to try and arrest him?"

Tavella held up both of her hands. "Hold on, now. I don't think it's a good idea. My boss, however, thinks it's a wonderful idea."

Lodge said, "First of all, capturing him isn't in the cards at all. He's not a civilian. He's almost certainly a member of the Fuerza Especial de la Brigada de Fusileros Paracaidistas."

Tavella said, "Special forces of the Parachutist Rifleman's Brigade?"

Lodge nodded. "Close enough. I served in a similar unit during the war. He's almost certainly trained to roughly the same standard as an Army Ranger. Has probably seen the elephant in that insurgency they've got going down south. He'll know what to do and when to do it. Even if you get the cuffs on him, he'll be looking for an opportunity to escape. If you give him even half a chance to get away, you're probably going to die and he's likely to get away."

The SWAT guys looked at each other uneasily, then back at Lodge. "That's nice to know, sir."

Lodge asked, "So what the hell is going on here?"

Tavella said, "Things are getting . . . confused."

Lodge said, "All right, let me provide some clarity: your real target is here in the Snake River Valley, south of here. They're stalking missile convoys."

Tavella said, "There aree various people worried about the possibility of influential persons getting targeted in Portneuf . . . including you."

"Well, Marshal Tavella, let's get something straight. I found out this morning that I was never really discharged from the Air Force. Because of the nature of my duties during the war, I was placed into a special reserve category without my knowledge. This morning, the Air Force recalled me to the colors. At first, as you can imagine, I was extremely pissed off. But on the drive over here, I had some time to reflect. And I am, Ms. Tavella, first and foremost, an American. I was born in Buenos Aires to an American expatriate civil engineer and his Argentine wife, and I spent the first 11 years of my life in Argentina. My dad got us out of there when my baby sister's piano teacher disappeared in the Dirty War. For the first year in America, if two cars pulled up at night outside our house, I hid under the bed. And then I realized: America, absent damn good reason, doesn't make people disappear. We don't commit extrajudicial murder under color of law as a matter of national policy. I'm an American patriot, ma'am, and I swore an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. My game plan is to protect my kids, by sending them over to Josh's house. His family has hired protection, and I'm pretty sure that if push comes to shove, the Mexican Army's going to be on the wrong end of my old buddy Josh's collection of firepower."

Tavella nodded. "All right, so what does that mean here?"

"It means . . . your focus needs to be here, at Mountain Home and in the Missile Operations Area. On protecting the missile convoys that operate between the Snake River and Kelly Creek down in Utah. And that's the way it is by direction of the senior military officer present in this here room on this here base, who just happens to be Chief Warrant Officer 2 Adam Lodge, United States Air Force Reserve. Anyone feel like challenging my authority in this matter?"

Lodge looked around the room.

Nobody said anything.

"Good."

* * *

11 December 2010
Federal Medical Center Carswell
Carswell Air Force Base
Fort Worth, TX

Ana Belen Montes, aka Prisoner 25037-016, sat at the table in the interrogation room, shackled to the chair.

A woman in an Air Force brigadier general's uniform stepped into the room. She carried a file folder.

The general sat down and said, "Brigadier General Valerie Morgan, Defense Intelligence Agency."

Montes' memory clicked. "You're one of Lodge's proteges."

Morgan nodded.

"I am." Her tone shifted. "Task Force ACHERNAR. Kinda interesting how that never came up during the debrief."

Montes blinked. "I never worked that closely with them. I had access to a list of personnel assigned, but I had no idea what they were even doing."

"Was it requested, or you just happened to have it?"

"It was requested."

"Did you give up that list?"

Montes said, "Yes."

Morgan sat back, then said, "Better hope the Mexicans don't succeed, or, by God, I will see to it that you get an additional count of espionage leading directly to the death of US citizens. You left that out of your damage assessment. That won't be looked at very kindly."

* * *

11 December 2010
Officer's Club
Fort Hood, TX

Helen Mantell and Fiona MacKinnon were singing with more enthusiasm than skill:

Ob’s stürmt oder schneit,
Ob die Sonne uns lacht,
Der Tag glühend heiß
Oder eiskalt die Nacht,
Verstaubt sind die Gesichter,
Doch froh ist unser Sinn,
Ja unser Sinn.
Es braust unser Panzer
Im Sturmwind dahin . . .

A baby-faced artillery major rolled his eyes. "I don't know which is worse, that you're singing in German or that you're singing so badly."

"Hey, we learned it from a genuine Bundeswehr Oberstabsfeldwebel at Fort Knox during the hard days."

The major slipped his beer, then said, "All right, then. You ladies have primogenitural rights. I don't. I graduated high school in 1994."

* * *

Fiona sipped her drink and said, "It's crazy how life works out, isn't it? I mean, we come back together 25 years later, and it's like we never missed a beat. Well, aside from the part with you being married and a mom."

They talked for a long time about Helen's family and how it worked. Helen showed pictures of Josh, her sister wives, and the kids.

"Damn, I envy you. He's a handsome devil. Your sister wives are all gorgeous. And your kids are happy. You've got the best of everything."

Helen said, "Honey, you need to get laid tonight."

Fiona shook her head. "No, I don't. I had an ugly breakup three months ago, and that's when I realized I needed to change my life. I just have no idea what the heck I should be doing. What I really need right now is a clear head and enough rest for tomorrow's simulator exercise. How about you?"

Helen smiled. "My staff and I are going to be playing RED. I probably need a good night's sleep, too."

* * *

In her room at the VOQ, Helen sent a text to Roberta, Debs, and Jeanna.

For your consideration: Fiona MacKinnon. She's not out for a good time, she's retiring next year, and wants to be a JROTC instructor.

She undressed and grabbed a shower.

When she got out, her phone was buzzing.

The text message string read:

Roberta: OK, let's tick off the bullet points: extremely intelligent, good-looking, goes both ways, looking for a significant change in her life. But are we what she's looking for?

Jeanna: I checked out her LinkedIn page. She looks like she'd be a good fit at Century High--they're looking to start an Army ROTC program, the parents are pushing for it.

Debs: Helen, do you really think she's going to be open to this?

Helen texted back:

I don't know. At the very least, I think she'd be open to Southern Idaho. Pocatello's beautiful, and she's always been outdoorsy--she'd love the place. She's good people, mature, level headed. If nothing else comes of it, we can get her out to the Portneuf Valley, help her establish herself, and play matchmaker to help her find whoever she should be with, if not us. But she's *utterly fascinated* by the concept of a polyamorous marriage, and even expressed envy. That's not a normie's reaction.

Debs: No, it isn't. But that doesn't mean she's all in.

Jeanna: Of course it doesn't. But it's a sign she might be open. I say we get her out here, meet and greet, and then just ask her straight out if she'd be interested. Worst that happens is she says no. But if she says yes . . . we're going to need to go on dates with her. All of us. Including Josh. Question is, would he be okay with it?

Roberta: If we're all agreed on trying this, including Fiona? Yes.

Debs: Damn straight. If we're all on the same sheet of music, he won't fight us unless we're really being stupid. We won't be stupid. But that means we have to have some extended conversations with Fiona . . . including things we generally don't talk about with outsiders.

Helen typed:

Knew that going in--because we want her to not be an outsider. We were okay with it in Judith's case, and we got an honest answer back. Fiona's a lot like Judith in that regard: if you're straight with her, she's okay with you no matter what. All I'm saying is, let's get her out to Portneuf, and let's all talk, and see where this goes.

Roberta: Agreed.

Debs: Likewise. Jeanna?

Jeanna: I'm in.

Roberta: All right. But I suggest everyone table this until after the war's over.

Jeanna: You sure there's going to be a war?

Debs: Ayala is acting like the typical dumbass who thinks he's the toughest, meanest dude in the bar. I've arrested enough of them. He's going to get this party started. And then he's going to scream that we're picking on him. The one thing those idiots never understand is the consequences of their own actions.

Helen sighed, typed, Good night, and went to bed.

[Matt Wiser]

TTL's version of Ms. Montes had better hope no one gets killed due to her treachery. What tipped her over the edge? It was likely the Anti-Communist coups in Central America after the war: Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador (where Colonel Bella served for a while), and the big one being Nicaragua. She could have done a lot of damage during the war, but she wasn't activated for whatever reason. Someone might want to ask her-if they haven't already: "How does it feel to have served a cause that even the Cubans themselves have rejected?" The Anti-Castro Uprising in 2009 no doubt shook her a bit...

[jemhouston]

The fact she wasn't complete in her deal, means the deal isn't valid.

[Wolfman]

Sounds like she’s going to do the hempen jig as the pirates of the Caribbean called being hung…

[Jotun]

Excuse me, war is looming and Josh's wives are contemplating another addition to their group?

I am certain I am one of the most socially liberal people on this board, but this polyamory thing has snuck way too far to the front and center in the narrative than it has any business to. It also has a bit of a "sophomoric wank fantasy" touch to it. One guy and lots of lesbian/bi action? GTFOH, sorry.
It has a tacked-on feel and could be handled a lot more like the (newly) societally accepted thing it is presented as. As in matter-of-factly.

Your writing is top-notch, as always, but the harem thing (I know, I know...) just rubs me the wrong way. There is one other thing I learned when I was younger: Threesomes are WORK!

[Wolfman]

Excuse me, war is looming and Josh's wives are contemplating another addition to their group?

I am certain I am one of the most socially liberal people on this board, but this polyamory thing has snuck way too far to the front and center in the narrative than it has any business to. It also has a bit of a "sophomoric wank fantasy" touch to it. One guy and lots of lesbian/bi action? GTFOH, sorry.
It has a tacked-on feel and could be handled a lot more like the (newly) societally accepted thing it is presented as. As in matter-of-factly.

Your writing is top-notch, as always, but the harem thing (I know, I know...) just rubs me the wrong way. There is one other thing I learned when I was younger: Threesomes are WORK!

I think the intention there was to show that despite the situation, life goes on…

[Jotun]

In nearly every chapter? Not subtle.

[Wolfman]

Point.

[Johnnie Lyle]

In nearly every chapter? Not subtle.

OOC: No, but it’s not implausible that an existential war would really shake up both the gender dynamics and sexual mores postwar. Even with women in combat arms just as a pure function of numbers, combat deaths are still going to fall predominantly on men of reproductive age. That’s going to result in a serious gender mismatch in your population of reproductive age, and society is going to have to adapt.

Said pressures are also arising at the same time US society’s view of homosexuality is changing, and the dynamics of homosexual relationships in general are also changing. I don’t know if anyone has delved into what WWIII is going to do to things like gay rights movements and AIDS, but it’s going to drastically change them.

Logically, you’re going to see rapidly accelerating societal changes as more people go “I could be dead tomorrow, so fuck hiding/conformity.” You’re also going to have things like discharges go by the wayside because we frankly need the bodies.So that’s going to rapidly accelerate the acceptance of homosexual relationships compared to @, just as WWII did with race relations in the US.

The kicker is going to be HIV. Testing the blood supply for HIV began in March 1985 - WWIII is going to rapidly push up the pressure on ensuring the blood supply is safe, and that recruits are not asymptomatically infected. But WWIII and it’s travel restrictions are also going to seriously change the dynamics of how HIV played out in WWIII differently than in @. That could easily go either way.

So it’s certainly reasonable to assume that Red Dawn (in both forms) is a lot more accepting of non-monogamous/polygamous arrangements than @, especially for women, since there’s going to be a lot fewer men to go around.

Of course, you’re also right that relationship dynamics also appear to work on an inverse square or even cube law, so maybe trash tv of the 1990s and 2000s is full of a lot more failed triads/throuples or even larger groups than @, as more people try it and fail miserably

[Jotun]

I am absolutely okay with the loosening liberalizing of societal norms such as homosexuality, polyamory and all the other stuff, including the reasons given.
I hold myself to be somewhat enlightened in this regard because I genuinely do not give a fuck about sexual orientations, preferences and family models. It is absolutely irrelevant to absolutely everything else in my opinion.
My standard reaction to somebody stating their sexual orientation and/or preferences is always the same: "Yes. And?" combined with a shrug.

My main hangup in relation to this story is simply that I think it is overdone. Because I think it is irrelevant in the end. Good as a side note and background/world building. Nothing more, nothing less.

[Poohbah]

A brief update as I fight writer's block . . .

12 December 2010
Visiting Officer's Quarters
Barzanian AFB
Fort Stockton, TX

"--and in other news, elements of the Second Marine Expeditionary Force are embarking aboard amphibious warfare ships at New Bern, Morehead City, and Wilmington, North Carolina--"

Mantell switched off the television and considered the squadron training plan again.

The phone rang.

"Colonel Mantell."

"Sir, it's Captain Dunn."

Mantell remembered that she was the squadron duty officer that evening.

"Good evening, Captain. Is there a problem?"

"I'm not certain, sir. I was going over some data here in the Intel shop, and I might have found something."

"I'm on my way over."

* * *

12 December 2010
Southern Arizona

I do a simple no-GPS land nav, and it goes to shit.

Fowler looked at the map with a beta light, then muttered, "Not all who wander are lost. Except for me. I'm lost as fuck."

Barnes said, "Not too badly lost, sir. I think we sighted in on the wrong peak, sir--and I do mean we, I missed it, too." He looked at the map, then said, "Let's assume we aimed at this one--"

Barnes used a toothpick to point to a spot on the map.

"But we should've aimed at that one."

The toothpick moved to another peak.

Fowler nodded. "All right. So, we moved out on azimuth 241, roughly 5 kilometers. Backtrack 061 from the landmark . . . "

He used the protractor and made a pencil mark where the reverse azimuth caught the road they'd crossed.

He then measured off five kilometers from the road toward the correct peak.

"All right. We're here." He tapped the first point with his pencil, then the second." "We're supposed to be there. So, measuring this, we should move out on an azimuth of 263--"

Sergeant Mantell's voice came over the radio. "Contact south, one jeep, headed our way."

Fowler looked at the map, then said, "Great. That's probably the tribal police."

Barnes spoke quietly. "Sergeant, spot tactical exercise. Give them no more information than necessary. Try to not reveal the actual location of the main body of the patrol. We're moving out on 263 once you get rid of them."

* * *

Sergeant Mantell stood up as the jeep approached and flipped up her NVGs.

A searchlight speared out from the jeep and lit her up.

Mantell said, "Skeg hudñig. Shapai masma?" ("Good evening. How are you?")

A man's voice came back. "Maña sape, api hig?" ("I am well, and yourself?")

"Maña sape." ("I am well.")

Another man's voice. "Nap ñeok O'odham Ñeoki?" ("Do you speak Tohono O'odham?")

"Hau’u, nt ha smac O’odham Ñeoki." ("Yes, I speak a little Tohono O'odham.")

The first man laughed. "I am impressed; it's very courteous of you to learn our language. I'm Officer Zepeda with the Tohono O'odham Tribal Police."

"Airman Sergeant Mantell, with the 10th Special Reconnaissance Squadron, United States Air Force. I assume I've crossed into Tohono O'odham land; such was not my intention."

In minutes, they worked out on Mantell's map the correct azimuth of 263 degrees, and Mantell apologized profusely.

Zepeda said, "Don't worry about the rest of your unit, they're about 500 yards behind you, you're right where you're supposed to be. At least you all got lost together."

Mantell sighed.

Zepeda chuckled. "Sergeant, you and your teammates are good, you really are, but this is our land. We know it just like you know the town you grew up in. Your patrol isn't the first to cross up Big Kohatk and Little Kohatk."

Zepeda walked back to the jeep.

Mantell called, "Sap g o koks." ("Good night.")

Zepeda said, "Good night, Sergeant. Safe travels."

"Safe travels to you, as well."

Mantell watched the jeep drive away, then said, "Sorry, Master Sergeant."

"You did good, Sergeant; they just did better, that's all. Okay, let's get you extended out along the 263 azimuth and put you back on point."

Mantell worked her way through the darkness until she heard Fowler say, "Okay, right there, now turn to 263 and let's head out."

[Wolfman]

Don’t you just love what amounts to friendly partisans?

[jemhouston]

I wonder if the Tribal Police charge the Air Force for giving direction.

[Matt Wiser]

The Tribal Police know the area down to every nook, cranny, dry creekbed, and so on. The AF (and other SOF) Teams don't.

[Jotun]

Yeah. "That clump of weeds wasn‘t there yesterday. Must be the military again…"

And if there is an armed conflict, I almost feel sorry for the invader. "Shoot that clump!"

[jemhouston]

Yeah. "That clump of weeds wasn‘t there yesterday. Must be the military again…"

And if there is an armed conflict, I almost feel sorry for the invader. "Shoot that clump!"

Critters need to eat too.

[Wolfman]

Yeah. "That clump of weeds wasn‘t there yesterday. Must be the military again…"

And if there is an armed conflict, I almost feel sorry for the invader. "Shoot that clump!"

Critters need to eat too.

That they do, and that was most assuredly the tribe’s attitude towards the Communists during World War III…

[Johnnie Lyle]

Yeah. "That clump of weeds wasn‘t there yesterday. Must be the military again…"

And if there is an armed conflict, I almost feel sorry for the invader. "Shoot that clump!"

Critters need to eat too.

That they do, and that was most assuredly the tribe’s attitude towards the Communists during World War III…

Critters need to eat was very much the attitude of those with a generous and charitable outlook.

Those who felt differently acted accordingly.