Chapter 24
Mondays suck.
I don’t care what time line it was, where you are, or any of that crap; Mondays just suck – plain and simple. For some reason I’d been thinking I’d come to school this morning and Brian would be there with the others. I’d even dressed up this morning. Now, here I was mucking out a stall in my best cowboy boots (another gift this last Christmas from the twins since I’d outgrown that first pair), wearing a brand new pair of jeans (stonewashed jeans were now becoming popular but I hated them and wore a pair of Wranglers), and a brand new dress-shirt I’d never worn before.
Eureka High required all students to take some type of ‘shop’ class their freshman year. I had intended to just take Home Economics again, but the class wasn’t offered during the only open time slot on my schedule. I’d faced a choice of Animal Husbandry, part of the FFA program, or Auto Repair. Since I didn’t feel like spending my days covered in grease, working on the school’s buses, I’d gambled on Animal Husbandry. The rest of the class was made up of FFA members, so as the only ‘interloper’ I got a good portion of the crap jobs.
Like mucking out the goat stall with a pitchfork in the small stable and pen attached to the back of the school.
“Well, well, look at this.” A familiar voice taunted me from behind. I didn’t have to turn around to know it belonged to Paul Ithuralde, the current Senior Bully. Nevertheless, he continued to taunt me, so I turned around slowly. Paul was barely five-ten, but was broad-shouldered and well-muscled, with a slight layer of fat still clinging to him. He wasn’t alone either, because Mike Raines was there, with Joel Shumaker and Scott Johansen. All of them were seniors. “Little boy genius is actually doing a real man’s work.”
“You got a problem, Ithuralde?” I asked in a bored voice as I stuck the pitchfork in the ground, tines first, and leaned on the handle.
“A genius like you should know it’s not smart to wear nice clothes when you’ll be working.” Paul jeered while the others watched. Mike had grown another inch and was broad-shouldered and fierce looking. Joel was the shortest of the group. He played quarterback during the brief football season this year, and had a scar on his right arm that ran from wrist to elbow and was over an inch wide. Even now, it was still red and angry-looking. He’d gotten it when a truck had been climbing the big hill behind the school. Joel had been in the back with several other guys when the truck hit the exposed boulder halfway up and slipped. They’d all been thrown out of the bed of the truck, and Joel had slid down the hill on his arm, catching a sage brush along the way, and getting his arm torn open. Paul’s mother, one of the town’s two paramedics had managed to stop the bleeding while Joel was sent first to the town’s doctor and then to the base for emergency surgery.
“Well, there’s genius and then there’s genius.” I said with a lackadaisical shrug. I’d expected some confrontation and doubted it would get out of hand. Most of the day so far, people had just reacted normally to me, or given me long stares as if reassessing me. This was the first time anyone had said anything directly. “Take you for instance, Paul, most people wouldn’t feel the need to point out I’d worn the wrong clothes today. They’d have just snickered and gone along. Not you though, you know you’re smart enough to figure it out and thought it’d be nice to tell me where I’d messed up. Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“What?” Mike said as he scrunched up his eyebrows. It was funny, the way he looked just then but I knew better than to laugh.
“We always knew you were weird and didn’t belong here.” Paul retorted with a little anger. The anger confused me a little. “Hell, your own mom has kicked you out. You should go where there’s more freaks like you and take your family with you!”
“What’s got you so upset, Paul?” I asked him while cocking my head to the side. The question seemed to catch him off guard and he stared at me for a moment. “Dude, we played on the football team together. I played JV basketball and you played Varsity so we traveled on the damn bus together. You never had a problem with me before, so what’s gotten into you now?”
“You know what my problem is with you.” Paul snarled. “It’s not enough for your family to be among the richest in town, or your Dad being the only preacher in town, but now he’s got to run against my Dad?”
“Run against your Dad?” I asked in confusion. “Your father is the Town Assessor, not State Senator.”
“You know he is!” Paul nearly shouted back and then he paused. “What does State Senator have to do with this?”
“That’s the position my father is thinking about running for.” I said with some surprise that the rumors were already starting to spread.
“I thought he was running against my Dad.” Paul said with some surprise. “You’re sure he’s running for State Senate?”
“Yes.” I replied slowly.
“Oh, well, um sorry for all that.” Paul said with a little embarrassment. “Um, maybe we’ll vote for your Dad too.”
“Okay.” I said as they moved off and I shook my head. That was a little weird. Dad must have either mentioned running for office or someone mentioned having talked to Dad about it, and from there the rumors spiraled out of control. Everyone knew the rumor mill in town worked fast, and Mom would usually be on the phone (don’t make the mistake thinking that gossip being a sin ever stopped someone from gossiping, especially my mother) listening to, spreading, or countering the latest batch of gossip. She was still gone, though, and her job was being filled by some lady who was ‘on-call’ for the school district.
After Paul and the others had walked off I finished the stall, put up the pitchfork and grabbed my backpack before checking out with Mrs. Ferguson. I had nearly ten minutes to get a soda before the bell rang because there was no FFA lecture today. That would be tomorrow and I would be even more bored talking about animal diseases or problems. Short and stout Mrs. Ferguson just nodded as I told her I was done and headed into the school. Stopping where the office met the dining area, I put in my quarter and a dime to get myself a Dr. Pepper. It had taken a lot of cajoling, threats, and begging to get the juniors to stock it in the machine, but I’d gotten them to keep me supplied with Dr. Pepper.
The only problem was that it turned out a lot of other people liked it as well and it was constantly running out.
P.E. was next period, so I took my soda into the back hallway to the gym and made my way across the stage to the side entrance for the boy’s locker room. They’d just finished putting a new floor in the gym a few years ago and Crutchley would kill any student who walked on it in boots, so it was best to take the back way. The hallway I used also had a small assembly room used for certain types of school groups. It was on the opposite side of the open gym stage, and there was a band room at the far end. Eureka hadn’t had a band since the last teacher quit two years ago and I was surprised to see a young blond woman was coming out of the room with Mr. Luce.
“Oh, Davey, it’s good to see you!” Mr. Luce said with a smile as I paused half of a step onto the stage area. At his greeting, I turned around and plastered a smile on my face as I moved to greet the two adults. “I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Thorn, she’ll be teaching Music here in the fall.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” I said cordially as I held my hand out to shake hers. She was petite, no more than five-five, and had an oval face. Something clicked in my head again and I remembered a very embarrassing moment from my first life involving having to be ‘babysat’ after throwing a big party while the parents were out of town. It was hard not to laugh at the idea that this short woman, no more than her mid-twenties in age, had babysat me when I was fourteen the first time around. “Are you moving here during the summer or are you going to wait until closer to school starting?”
“I’ll be moving out here a few weeks after I graduate from college.” Ms. Thorn said with a smile that would melt many straight men’s hearts. “I’ve got to go meet the landlord at that nice trailer park about getting a place there. The school told me the rents there are higher than they pay for starting teacher’s accommodations, but I think I can afford it.”
“Tell the man that Davey said to make sure you could.” I told her with a smile. She looked a little taken aback at that. “He’s my father, Ms. Thorn, and no I won’t be taking Music so I’m not trying to sucker a better grade out of ya.”
“I see.” Ms. Thorn said cautiously while Mr. Luce laughed.
“He’s just trying to make a good impression on you, Debbie.” Mr. Luce said with a smile and Debbie Thorn relaxed a little. “Now, get your butt to class.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Football Coach!” I said in a parody while snapping off a sharp salute. Mr. Luce laughed as he led the ‘new’ teacher out of the hallway and I sauntered off towards the gym locker rooms. Crutchley was just walking into the locker rooms and he gave me a little push as I passed him by.
“You staying away from my daughter?” He half-stated, half-asked a little loudly. I turned around and smiled at him.
“You better tell her to stay away from me, Coach.” I teased him. He growled as I spun back around and headed into the locker room where the last hour’s class was just showering and changing back into their street clothes. This was the current crop of eighth graders, who shied away from me instinctively. I could see several of them staring in curiosity at my backpack, obviously wondering if it was true that there was a gun in here. By this time, I didn’t even sigh as I opened up my backpack and made it very obvious while I was getting ready to change that people could look in there. They’d see a radio with a folded whip antenna, but no gun.
That was a small .22 automatic today, with its holster taped to the inside of my right cowboy boot.
I was careful about taking my boots off, and resisted the urge to rub where the holstered weapon had been digging into my lower leg. The boots went into the bottom of my P.E. locker about the time the bell rang and the younger kids thundered out. A few minutes later, I was taking off my pants and getting ready to put on my green sweat pants when Sam came in to the locker room with his arm around Sean in a friendly way. Sean actually looked like he was happy, although he did get a little nervous as Sam led him over towards where I was changing. Sam, David and Derek were in this class, and it looked like Sean had managed to snag the same period.
“Dude!” I said with genuine pleasure at seeing Sean. “How’s the day going?”
“It’s…it’s not as bad as I remembered school being.” Sean said carefully while Sam chortled.
“I told ya this ain’t that big-town school.” Sam said with a smile. “Sean here has the same world history class as I do.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot Downey teaches that Freshman year.” I said with a shrug. Here it was a Sophomore level course.
“Well, Taysom isn’t that bad of a teacher.” Sean said with a shrug.
“Just wait until you meet Faringer.” I said with a grin while Sean started getting undressed. Sam started to chuckle as David and Derek came into the room and took up their positions at the lockers next to mine.
“What’s so bad about Faringer?” Sean asked and both of the new arrivals let out groans.
“Oh GOD!” Derek moaned aloud. “That fat fuck…”
“Language!” Crutchley called from the doorway to his office. “You boys better get dressed and out for roll call before I hear any more remarks about the biggest teacher in the school.”
“Biggest?” Sean asked quietly of Sam as we all redoubled our efforts to get dressed quickly. I was pretty much done, and pondered if I could drink my Dr. Pepper without Crutchley noticing. Since he was watching us closely, I figured I couldn’t and put it in my locker for after class. We had lunch next, so it wouldn’t be too hard to drink it down on the way down the hill to the Eureka Café.
“Fattest.” David whispered as he took off his pants. Since I was done dressing, having put on a gold sweatshirt, I nodded at them and left the locker room. This class was almost all Freshmen and Sophomores, so it wasn’t that bad. Why I left at that moment, I wasn’t quite sure since I usually hung out with them and we would leave as a group. It was just that seeing David’s bare legs had made me a little uncomfortable. His build was different than that of Brian, his legs both smoother and more… silken.
Oh yeah, that was why I left.
“Jones, get your ass over here.” Crutchley yelled out from where he sat on the edge of the stage. His words left no room for argument and I trotted over. Tammy and Julie came out of the girls locker room at that moment and ambled over to the middle of the gym floor. They were both wearing short gold shorts and t-shirts like most girls in this year, and I had to admit that if I was straight, I’d be staring harder at them. “Get your eyes off my daughter, Jones.”
“Sorry, Coach.” I turned to him with a smile. “I’m still all broken up since she told me we’d make better friends this morning.”
“Get over yourself.” Crutchley snorted. “I want you to lead the class today. I have business in the teacher’s lounge. Do warm-ups and then start a b-ball scrimmage.”
“You have business scoping out the new music teacher.” I quipped as he handed his clipboard to me. My words earned me a scowl and a slap with the clipboard before he put it in my hands.
“I don’t care how old you really are, you still are my student.” Crutchley murmured softly as he turned to head out of the gym.
“Have fun, Dad.” Tammy said a little too loudly, earning her a scowl from her father. She just laughed it off and came over to stand by me. “Oh, is somebody pretending to be in charge today?”
“Can it before I give you a few laps.” I joked with Tammy, who just laughed before slugging me in the arm like her father might have. She was maybe four inches shorter than me, but she was stronger than half the guys in the gym. Five minutes later, the class was assembled and I checked off roll. The State of Nevada always wanted their paperwork, even though a quick glance could tell who was missing. Today, there were no absences, so I called out to start the warm-ups.
“Who put you in charge?” Bill Oliver, my blond classmate demanded. He’d been a little surly towards me in homeroom and I resisted the urge to sigh.
“Coach Crutchley did.” I retorted evenly. “Now, let’s get started with arm stretches.”
P.E. passed normally after Bill’s solitary retort. The class had eleven students in it total, so after splitting them into two teams for the basketball scrimmage, I was left on the sidelines to act as referee and coach for both teams. Crutchley wasn’t a stupid man, and this was his way of giving everyone something to do. That opinion was confirmed when I saw him peeking around from the back of the stage to watch shortly before it was time to call the game. Poor Sean was covered in sweat by the time we finished, and I joined him in walking around the gym while everyone else headed into the locker rooms. Sean was smart enough to walk until he recovered.
“Shit, this altitude is rough on the lungs.” Sean wheezed after he’d recovered his breath some.
“Once you get use to it though, it’s pretty cool.” I commented lightly. I’d already set Crutchley’s clipboard down on the stage and he came into view to pick it up and wave to me with it before disappearing out of the gym.
“It better be.” Sean said with a small grin as he led the way towards the locker room door. We went inside, but both of us stopped at the sound of an angry Bill Oliver.
“Why the fuck do you guys hang around that freak anyway?” Bill was saying. We couldn’t quite see him from the doorway, but I recognized his voice no problem. “Is he sucking you guys off every day or what?”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” David’s voice was full of anger, and I could see him stand up over the heads of the other guys watching. It looked like Sam was holding him back.
“Is that what he’s doing?” Oliver’s voice took on a dangerous tone I didn’t like.
“What the fuck are you so concerned about, Oliver?” I called out from the doorway, making a few people jump. Those standing in my way moved to the side and I ended up with a clear view of Bill Oliver. He’d grown a little over the last two years, but he still had platinum blond hair and a good farmer’s build. He only looked slightly nervous as I moved to stand in front of him. David looked almost resentful at my presence, but I didn’t care at that point if his pride was hurt by my arrival and taking over the confrontation from him. “Are you jealous, Oliver? Is that your problem? You don’t like that I’m better friends with David than I am with you? I’ve invited you over to the church before, but you always said you were busy.”
“That’s not it.” Bill Oliver said angrily, but his eyes tightened slightly. I wondered for a moment if his parents were strict, or needy or something and that’s why he’d always refused, because they wouldn’t let him go.
“Then if you’re not interested in being my friend what the fuck does it matter to you if other people are my friends?” I asked him calmly. His hands opened and closed like he wanted to lash out, but he knew the result if he did that.
“You can’t always be around to protect them.” Oliver snorted.
“David, do you need me to protect you?” I asked the twin casually.
“Fuck no, I can take him by myself.” David snarled angrily.
“Fine, why don’t the two of you meet behind the big hill after school.” I said with a shrug.
“I can’t.” Bill said sourly and quickly. “I have to head home on the bus.”
“I’ll make sure you get a ride home, no strings attached.” I said with a shrug. He stared at me for a moment, opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“I’m not interested in a fight.” Oliver finally said after a minute of silence. “I was just… joking around.”
“That’s good to hear.” I said and then raised an eyebrow at him. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably while switching between looking at the ground and my face.
“I… uh… I’m sorry I called you a cocksucker.” Oliver added and I nodded before turning my back on him and going over to my locker. Things broke up at that point, and people went about getting ready to take a shower. The lunch bell rang before I’d even gotten into the shower, so I rushed through before getting changed into my regular clothes.
“They’re all acting like they haven’t known you for the last two years.” Derek complained after he’d told Tammy and Julie about the events in the locker room.
“Well they’re just adjusting to him being the town genius.” Julie said as we trudged down the hill for lunch. The last of the winter snows had melted weeks ago, making the trip down the hill less dangerous than it had been during winter. It was a twelve percent grade, and I knew Sean would be dangerously out of breath on the trip back up, but he’d get use to it after a few weeks.
“It’s a good thing I broke up with you this morning.” Tammy said with a smile. “I’m already getting enough crap from the other girls as it is. They all want to know what happened on the base last week.”
“I hope you remember what to tell them.” I said without thinking and got myself frowns from everyone. “Sorry, bad habit of mine.”
“That’s for sure.” Sean grumbled and I shot him a warning glance. It was too easy for us to slip into our old camaraderie at times.
Lunch at the Eureka Café was a constant pleasure in my life. Harry Han always had excellent food coming out of his kitchen, whether it was Chinese or American cuisine. Today I ordered a regular hamburger and fries, and from two years of my patronage, he knew just how to cook it to my taste. My friends ordered their regular favorites, and Sean decided to try the country-fried steak. There was a surprise for me at lunch, though, because my friends didn’t usually talk politics.
“What do you think about George Bush running against Reagan in the primaries?” Derek asked me just after our food arrived, breaking the rhythm of the previous topic which had been the windy weather. The question took me by surprise and I stared at my friend for a moment. We almost never talked about politics, but then again it was an election year.
“Um, actually I think it’s not a smart move politically, and I hope he gets his ass kicked.” I said with a little more vehemence than I should. My friends were staring at me, and so were an older couple at a nearby booth. Business here had picked up over the last two years, especially among those new residents associated with the base. I’d gotten General Barstow and Colonel Kowalski both hooked on the food here.
“So you don’t like Bush?” Julie asked me with a neutral expression. “Is that because you’re friends with the President?”
“No, it’s not.” I said, noticing that the older couple wasn’t paying attention anymore, and I lowered my voice again. “It’s the fact that he had me kidnapped and tortured two years ago.”
“You’re kidding!” Derek said a little too loudly and looked slightly abashed. He continued in a hushed tone. “He really did that?”
“Yes, he was responsible.” I said. “He was originally put in charge of my case handling since he use to be the head of the CIA. I guess he wasn’t happy with what I was and wasn’t saying because he sent someone to do whatever it took to get everything I had in my head.”
“What did they do?” David asked in a soft, pained voice. They flinched as I told them, and I noticed Julie stopped eating. The sound of the door opening stopped me from continuing beyond telling them of the fight with the two ‘guards’. Almost as if an omen, four uniformed Marines came inside the Café, and head right over towards me. The three enlisted men were led by a young officer with a lieutenant’s single bar on his collars. He saw me looking and headed right over towards me. I pushed back from the table as he approached, and was standing to face him by the time he reached me.
“Mr. Jones, General Barstow requests your immediate presence at the command center.” The young officer, whose name I couldn’t remember until I read it off of his uniform tunic said softly as he stood in front of me.
“Understood, Lieutenant Jordan.” I answered him quickly before bending over to pick up my backpack. Before leaving with him, I turned to Harry, the owner of the restaurant and waved. “Harry, just put the meals on my tab.”
“Okie dokie, Davey.” Harry called back with a smile. I nodded towards my friends, all of whom were either grinning or shaking their heads and exited with the Marines following. They had two jeeps outside, one with an M-60 machine gun on a tripod in the back. Jordan gestured towards the first jeep and I got in the front seat. He took the back seat while one of the enlisted men got in to drive. There was a driver already in the other jeep, and the remaining two marines got in that jeep, one in the front and the other took up the machine gun position, standing at the weapon as we made a u-turn on the wide main street and headed west.
Typical Marines, always showing force, and being prepared.
There was no conversation on the drive to the air base. Part of me wished they’d post some helicopters here, but that was questionable at best. Most helicopters rarely operated at altitudes higher than a few thousand feet, so the ground elevation of six thousand feet would pose severe operational problems for most helicopters in the Air Force’s inventory. We passed the airstrip off of Third Street and I was mildly surprised to see three C-130 aircraft on the ground, being unloaded. I barely had time to do more than glance, though, because the jeeps were running at their top speeds towards the base’s entrance. The Marine guard at the base’s gate checked everyone’s identification before waving to the Air Force guard who pushed the button opening the electric gate.
It was nice to see the compromises between Barstow and Marken working.
The jeeps stopped in front of the Admin building, which seemed a tad bit busier than normal. A pair of Marine guards opened the main doors as I approached alone, having left my escorts in their jeeps. I could hear them driving off as I entered the building and a slightly out of breath female Airman came running up to me. She was dressed in the Air Force blues, light blue top with a darker blue skirt and she looked a little harried.
“Mr. Jones, the General would like to see you in the Operations Center.” She said quickly and I nodded before heading down the hallway at a quick pace. She walked beside me, matching my pace while calming her breathing down. I realized she was probably fairly new because I hadn’t seen her before. The elevator was waiting for us and she punched in the code for the Operations level before the doors shut. It was a slightly uncomfortable silence as we reached the bottom level and she followed me out as I headed for the door to Operations.
As always, the room was dimly lit, but the wall maps told me that whatever was going on was happening in South America. Barstow nodded from the far side of the room as he saw me come in, but he didn’t head towards me immediately. Marken was at the main table, talking with his Major and Colonel Kowalski as they reviewed the table map. Since the General wasn’t heading right for me, I sauntered over to the table and took up a station opposite the three officers.
“One of the Hawk batteries should be placed with the radar on the south side of the Highway.” Marken was insisting in hushed tones. That made me raise an eyebrow. He was referring to the Hawk surface-to-air missile system, a fairly new defense system against enemy aircraft.
“We’ll have to have men stationed there regularly, something we haven’t done so far.” Kowalski stated, looking up to nod at me briefly.
“If we camouflage it and put it further down the slope from the highway, it will get better coverage and not be easily visible to the freeway.” The Marine Major, an older, balding man named Woods added.
“What about the other two?” Marken asked after nodding at his major.
“We can arrange two or three emplacements on the east side of the valley, but I recommend only deploying them there in times of elevated alerts.” Colonel Kowalski stated, to which the two Marines nodded. “From there, it’ll provide coverage of the western quadrant which we can’t do unless we put one on the other side of the mountain here. Then the last battery goes at the base itself. With that, we’ll have complete coverage of the base, radar facility, and airstrip facilities. The new Stinger crews can rotate as part of the airstrip detail as well.”
“Stingers?” I asked in surprise. Those were small, shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles that could be fired by a single person against an air target. In the first time line, we’d sold dozens to the Afghanistan freedom fighters (who included among their ranks Osama bin Ladin). They had used them to shoot down dozens of Soviet helicopters and cargo planes on landing/take-off. They’d even shot down a few fighters doing strafing runs. In the second time-line, they’d been used effectively against Iraqi and Iranian jet fighters and helicopters. They were an advanced, and extremely capable weapon, as well as an expensive one.
“Yes, we’re also getting air-defense mobile cannons as well.” Colonel Marken told me with a small smile. “I hear some Army brass are ticked off at having to train Marines to handle their toys, and even more ticked off that we’re getting units slated for Europe, but the President said he wanted this place more secure.”
“Make sure your men get sent to the proper schools on maintaining them, Colonel.” I said with a little more edge than I should have. He frowned, but I knew Marines. They were great at fighting and keeping their personal weapons in top form, but if you let them near complex electronics without proper training, civilian technicians would get to make lots of overtime trying to fix the damn things.
“Yes, your highness.” Marken quipped, telling me he was a little miffed. He only used that when he thought I was being overbearing, and it came from General Barstow mentioning my last meeting with Prince Charles. That had been this last summer, and it was an extremely uncomfortable memory.
The man could make squeezing a pea out your ass seem like a major achievement.
“David, you made it.” General Barstow said from next to me, causing me to jump slightly. He moved far too quietly for a man his size and age.
“Yes, and you managed to pull me out of school twice in seven days.” I said with a grin. It seemed like it had been longer than a week, but then again a lot had happened.
“I’m just following orders.” Barstow said carefully before gesturing towards one of his airmen who was watching us as if waiting for the gesture. Seconds later, the map on the table changed to one of South America. Argentina was colored with a red shade, marking its new status as a Communist nation. I was surprised to see Venezuela shaded in pink now. Even more surprising were pink lines running through Peru and Chile.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” I quipped softly, and when no one chuckled I remembered these men hadn’t grown up with Star Wars.
Lucky them, they never got close enough to know Episode III was made and I STILL hadn’t gotten to see it!
“Well, bad feelings are the least of our problems right now.” General Barstow said in a deep voice that usually preceded very bad news. “The Argentinean leaders seem to be consolidating their hold on power for now. CIA has reported deals with China and the Soviet Union to replace their Navy. China is selling them a squadron of Chinese-produced OSA missile boats. The Soviets are selling them three Krivak-class frigates and a Kara-class cruiser. There are also some older diesel-subs being included in the deal.”
“That’s not good.” I said. The idea of a communist Argentina was bad enough, and the Chinese and Soviets had to know they wouldn’t be able to pay off a fleet of that size any time soon. That meant they were in a serious power play for South America. That also meant the shadings of the different countries indicated more power plays in action. Ever since James Munroe had been President, it was the policy of the United States that Central and South America as well as the Caribbean was considered to be ‘in the interests’ of the United States. Foreign meddling in those areas would be dealt with directly. The last time that had really been challenged was the Naval blockade of Cuba over nuclear missiles. Even in the last time line, the Soviets had never really tried to play in our backyard. “Okay, pink means there’s a coup underway now in Venezuela. What’s with the stripes?”
“CIA reports that there’s been meetings between Chinese and Soviet officials and senior military or government officials in those countries.” Barstow answered my question with a frown. You got the packet on similar meetings in Venezuela. About three hours ago, the army there stormed the Presidential Palace and their government buildings. So far their elected leaders are mostly dead or captured. The President escaped thanks to some loyal soldiers, but their numbers are being decimated. We estimate that pro-communist forces will have total control of the capitol and major cities within a week. They’re already broadcasting on government radio and television making promises of greater prosperity for their citizens.”
“Most likely from selling oil to the Reds.” Kowalski grunted. His statement was most likely accurate and true. Venezuela’s oil fields were just really starting to produce revenue and they’d been a major source of oil for the U.S. in both previous time lines. This was a serious problem.
“So why am I here?” I asked them. “No offense gentlemen, but we all know there’s nothing I can do about this.”
“Major, will you excuse us please?” General Barstow said to the Marine Major, who nodded before crossing to the far side of the room to talk with a Marine sitting at a console. Barstow looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear and then he continued in a soft voice. “Two hour ago, I was informed that the CIA has found out where the time traveler called Alexei Shevardnadze is located. One hour and thirty minutes ago, we started receiving reports of shots fired in the Kremlin.”
“Alexei has not come back in time yet.” I stated flatly. “He doesn’t come back for at least another week. How can there be a coup yet?”
“Preliminary word is coming out that it was the result of a meeting between a KBG man named Putin and members of the Chinese embassy a month ago.” Barstow said. “CIA is reporting that Putin then met with several military leaders and key members of the Politburo. I was also told that the agent who reported this had to break his cover in order to do so, and was killed in the process of delivering the information to the local CIA chief. The CIA station chief barely made it back to the embassy. Luckily, the agent had written everything down and got it to us. This happened last night and embassy transmitted the information by radio using a one-time only code that can never be used again, and it was worth it because the embassy is now being jammed, and all land-lines were cut.”
“They haven’t moved in on the embassy, have they?” I asked with some fear. That would be tantamount to an act of war. In fact, it would be an act of war.
“No, but it is completely surrounded and all Americans in Moscow are being rounded up.” Barstow answered. “We’re doing the same with their embassies here. The President wanted me to inform you of all this before he spoke with you.”
“Okay, um, can I have a moment please?” I asked and he nodded. My first reaction was to step away from the table and pace in a circle. Events were spiraling out of control here. While both were communist, China and the Soviet Union had always had a very uneasy relationship. It came from centuries of warfare between both countries, and a jealousy over the difference in Mao’s communism and the Leninist/Stalinist versions practiced in the Soviet Union. Militarily, they’d been warm enough for the Russians to sell ships, planes, arms, as well as licensing for those things, to China. They had rarely ever combined operations, military or intelligence and for China to now essentially back a coup in Russia told me how far the Chinese might be willing to go with the information provided by their new time traveler. We’d operated under the assumption that we’d have to deal with them separately. It now appeared that was no longer the case. With that settled in my mind, I walked back over to the table and nodded at General Barstow with determination. “I’m ready, General.”
“We’re ready on this end.” The General said loudly to one of the techs who turned and talked into a handset before nodding back at the General. Barstow picked up the secure phone and handed it to me. There was no sound at first, but a click a few seconds later announced it was connected.
“David, are you there?” The President’s calm voice came through clearly.
“Yes, Mr. President, I’m here.” I said with a nod he’d never see.
“Good, how was school this morning?” He asked and for a moment I considered pulling my hair out. The man always focused on the personal things when he knew the later conversation would be very… deep.
“It was fine, Mr. President.” I answered as lightly as I could. “A couple of kids are reacting to the ‘resident genius’ thing like I expected, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. My friends are still handling things well, like I expected, and Sean seems to like it here.”
“I wish everything else was going as you expected.” The President’s tone held a strong hint of irony and I couldn’t disagree with him. “Has General Barstow brought you up to date?”
“Yes, sir he has.” I confirmed for him. “I’m not quite sure what you want from me right now. You know as well as I do the ramifications of a joint Soviet and Chinese junta. How to handle that is not something I have a lot of advice on because I’m not as good at international political maneuvering as you. If you want to hear from me that I think the Chinese and Soviets are going to work hand-in-hand in this time line, then I’ll confirm that’s what I’m thinking. The situation in South American is scary. I know I advised you against covert support for the Sandinistas, and I still say that, but I think with two communist coups already, it should be possible to get firm support for open arms sales and military support for non-communist elements in those countries.”
“David, slow down.” The President said with a chuckle. I took a deep breath and waited for him to continue. “Those are all good ideas, and I assure you we’re going to move in those directions. I’ve already called for a meeting with the Congressional leadership of both parties on this and since it’s an election year I’m confident they’ll want to move quickly and decisively despite how sluggish the economy is right now. What I wanted to talk to you about at this time is Shevardnadze. How big a risk is he to the national security of this country?”
“In all honesty, sir, I believe he remains a severe threat.” I answered quickly. This question had been bucking around my head for months now. “The Chinese traveler had weeks to prepare for his Do Over. Shevardnadze had months, even years. The amount of technical data he gave the Soviets on our weapon systems, battle tactics and so forth was bad enough. The technology he brought back in his head on their systems was even worse. Give them two years to listen to him and he can have their military forces in shape. Yet, even more damaging is his knowledge of politics of that time line. The Chinese in the last time line learned of the differences in their economic success when they stole the Do Over information. Shevardnadze knows at least as well as I do how they built an economic empire in the first time line, and they will want that knowledge. All they know right now is that it happened, and it was kept from happening in the last time line. Combine the knowledge of those previous time lines, and both countries working closely together, and we have a graver threat to this country.”
“I concur with your opinion.” The President said flatly.
“Sir, General Barstow said we know where Shevardnadze is now?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s in a secure factory town about seven hundred miles north-east of Moscow.” The President replied with a sigh. “We have no agents near there, or who can get in there. Short of launching an inter-continental ballistic missile, the only way to get in there will be a bomber raid using F-111 Aardvarks out of our English bases. I have a conference call coming up with Margaret soon, and she may want to call and talk with you, but I’m seriously considering authorizing the bombing raid.”
“Sir, might that not start a war?” I asked with a little horror. I could see General Barstow looking at me with a frown on his face as he listened to my side of the conversation.
“David, an armed bombing run that levels an entire town will most likely start up World War Three right now.” The President replied. “I already know this Shevardnadze has no qualms about starting World War Three, he’s done it once before. What I need to decide is if starting a war now would be better than waiting until he and his Chinese counterpart move their countries into a position where they think they can win that war.”
“Mr. President, when you put it like that, I have a hard time suggesting another course of action.” I said with a sinking feeling.
“Well then, you had best be ready for a response directed at your facility.” The President said softly. “Tell General Barstow to prepare for a military response against you from the Soviet Union or the People’s Republic of China.”
“Yes, Mr. President, and good luck.” I said softly before hanging up the phone. The General and his chief officers looked at me expectantly. Instead of meeting their gazes I looked down at the map table showing South America still. “General Barstow, the President has directed me to inform you that you are to prepare for a possible nuclear or conventional retaliatory attack against this facility. Please bring all required personal into this facility’s bunkers immediately.”
“Understood.” General Barstow said quietly before he turned to start giving orders.
Yep, Mondays suck.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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