May 10, 19:07 (PDT)
Inside CENTCOM, General Story sat down at his command chair. Seated next to him, his aid, Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Simpson, looked over and greeted him with a nod. He bobbed his head in return, but his thoughts were still elsewhere. Just a few minutes before, in his small private quarters, he’d spoken over secure video chat with his son Christopher. In worried conversation, his son sought his advice. With events in Nevada, war on the horizon, should he and his husband flee to Canada and seek asylum? Could he, his father, help get him across the border? After listening, the answer for both questions was yes. But no, he couldn’t join them, his job was too important. If things turned out okay, then afterwards, they could be reunited.
“Sir, President Ortega is on the line,” said Simpson.
Shaken from his brooding, Story swiveled in his chair and put on his headset. After adjusting the earpiece, he waved at Simpson to put through the call.
“General Story, are you there?” asked Ortega.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m still in Sacramento at a break in congressional deliberations. The US missile strike against Vegas, eighteen dead and twice as many wounded, was awful. Congress took the unprovoked attack hard. I’m not sure what the US was thinking, but their blatant aggression has served to create greater resolve. More than ever, these folks are ready to fight back. Before midnight we’ll adjourn here. Afterward, I’ll let the US know we’ve rejected their demand to turn over Nevada. In response, I expect we’ll get no more reprieves, and the US will attack Las Vegas.”
“Understood,” replied Story. Now there was no turning back. Tomorrow, a fight was coming. The advice he’d given his son was warranted.
“Last we spoke, you estimated the damage from the US missile strike wasn’t enough to stop Heavy Metal. You’ve had more time to analyze. Still believe that way?” asked the president.
“Yes. Beyond the loss of life, losing our primary missile defense systems and some artillery assets was the biggest blow. Other damage, especially to the defensive works east of Las Vegas, can be repaired. Work will continue non-stop until the enemy is on our doorstep. The other significant loss was to a squadron of six stealth helicopters at Nellis. Rookie mistake. Pilots were refueling when the siren sounded, and all of them were parked too close together. Two of the birds are salvageable, but not the remainder.”
“So it could’ve been worse?”
“Yes, ma’am. As you know, SALI warned us to expect a US strike against Vegas in advance of their major offensive. To maintain the viability of Operation Heavy Metal, she warned us against using any of the new weapons to oppose the strike. So although we couldn’t stop the raid, when the inbound missiles were detected, our folks were expecting it and took immediate evasive action. Still, the losses were unfortunate.”
“I see,” said Ortega. “I seem to recall the plan to extricate Lisa McMichael called for the use of a stealth helicopter. Please tell me the mission to get her the hell out of Mesquite is moving forward?”
“Yes, ma’am, but not as originally planned. The loss of our stealth helicopters necessitated a change.”
“I need her in Sacramento. She’s a hero. We’ve got near panic in the streets. No matter how Heavy Metal turns out, having her on display will help calm fears and maintain confidence. When will she be here?”
“Well, ma’am, you recall SALI also warned the US would quickly discover a lack of DNA and begin hunting for McMichael.”
“Of course. But you recommended sticking with the original plan and flying her out this evening after dark.”
“Well, the US did go looking for her.”
“Not good. What happened?” asked the president, her voice sounding concerned.
“Around five thirty this afternoon, a US search team approached her hiding location. The SF team protecting her was prepared, created a diversion, and left the area on foot. With no stealth helicopter available, their goal is to have her safely in Las Vegas sometime in the early morning hours.”
“Las Vegas! Hell, she could get killed. Why not take her somewhere safe?”
“Vegas has all of the resources needed to get her into California, and Sacramento, fast. Besides, it’s the closest major city, and a separate team of SF operators based there are driving stealth vehicles to pick her up in the desert. Madam, it’s the safest and quickest way to get her back and should be accomplished before the US attacks.”
There was a long pause, and Story waited. Somehow, he had to broach the subject of his son.
“Dammit! Just make sure she gets back in one piece.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Getting back to Heavy Metal, how is your confidence level?”
General Story looked around the room. He could feel the tension but also a level of optimism. Different groups of folks huddled around desks and monitors, and he watched as officers, enlisted, and key civilian staff moved about. There was a buzz in the air.
“General, are you there?” asked the president.
“Ah, yes. President Ortega, we’ll be ready. The question remains, will Heavy Metal work, and if so, to what extent? Those won’t be answered until after the battle.”
“Of course,” replied Ortega.
“Also, I think it prudent we bring in SALI,” said Story.
“Why so?” asked the president.
“If things go wrong, and believe me things will go wrong, having her guidance could prove critical. Keeping her locked away, only meeting afterward, doesn’t make sense. I recommend she be brought here to CENTCOM. It’s a short drive. Have her by my side throughout the operation, and I will personally supervise her. We can give her a cover story that she is your personal assistant, something like that.”
“I’m a hundred percent behind the idea. In my opinion, we should be using her much more than we have. But she is the property of Mr. Basu,” said the president.
“Human beings, I’m told, aren’t property. At least not in our country,” snapped Story.
“So true! I want her freedom more than anyone. She should be working to help the nation. But her existence is still classified, and I’ve agreed to keep it that way. For now, I’ll bring it up with Basu. Meanwhile, don’t count on having her.”
“Remind him that Heavy Metal is SALI’s plan, and I’m not opposed to having her assist in real time. It could make all the difference.”
“Agreed. But it won’t be up to me. I’ll reach out and let you know. Anything else?” asked Ortega.
Story took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and imagined his son. “Yes, there is.”
“Go ahead. I’ve only a couple of minutes before I’m expected back with Congress.”
Story re-opened his eyes and, although, uncomfortable he pushed onward. “My son and his husband are leaving tonight and heading towards Canada. Should things turn bad, they’ll be seeking asylum.”
To his surprise, he heard a chuckle. “Yeah, they along with several million others.” He was about to interject, explain he wasn’t joking, when Ortega continued in a serious tone. “I understand, General. Look, I can’t do anything right now, but maybe later. Send over their names and details, and I’ll see what can be done. Just do something for me.”
“Of course,” replied Story, not expecting to be asked a favor in return.
“Win tomorrow! If you do, then asylum for your son, and millions of others, might not be necessary.”