“I wouldn’t mind that at all, Hunter,” Bolton says. “And as for your little pow-wow, I didn’t hear a thing. So, if you’ve got your plan all squared away, if you could all climb aboard, we’ll convoy you back to the Green Zone and you can get to work.”
“Sounds good to me, General,” Davis says.
As Task Force 815 piles into the Humvees, Arketta purposefully slides into the back seat of the middle of the convoy, next to Luis. "Since the Boranai'i probably won't like a former Turai looking for their little bird-cloak-whatever person, while you, Hugh and Hunter go off and work on that, I think I'll get to know the Narsai'i soldiers.” Arketta smiles at Luis. “Maybe play some basketball."
Luis looks up at Arketta and smiles back. "Sure, just don't be too smug about being able to dunk on half of them."
Arketta gives Luis a kiss. "It’s not my fault that they can't keep up with the fast-break."
"Yeah, well, go enjoy your game."
She smiles. "I will. I'll let you know what I hear when you get back. You should join us, too."
Luis grins. "I haven't played much since high school, and even then I warmed benches mostly. But I'll drop by for a while."
"All right." She takes his hand in hers, concern leaking in. "You boys be careful, all right? Hugh might be right about this being an ambush."
Luis' face grows serious. "I'll keep an eye out."
Arketta smiles, but still looks concerned. "I know." She lets go of Luis’ hand and wraps her arm around his shoulder, resting her head against his. "I love you. See you when you get back."
----
For Hugh, Davis, Swims-the-Black and Hunter, the inside of General Bolton’s headquarters provides a pretty hefty amount of flashbacks to working in the Middle East - concrete walls, here tan-colored spraycrete, metal folding tables and chairs, wires hung on brackets ram-set into the wall and the scent of coffee in the blast-air-conditioned dry air. However, what gives Hugh, Hunter and even Davis a surprise is the fact that the Narsai’i military are not alone here. Even in the command and control center, the heart of Narsai’i operations on Boranai, there are almost as many Imperial men and women with their own dress and haircuts as there are ACUs and Army regulation hair - including a couple of Imperials wearing “Task Force Enterprise” t-shirts with the morale patch design silk-screened on the back, and one suspiciously pale man wearing an Imperial tunic and pants combination over his boots who runs in, hands in a report and orders copies run off and distributed in what is clearly a West Coast accent.
Hugh only has to check one thing to determine the “US Army”-ness of the installation - he grabs a cup of joe from one of the three pots on hotplates neatly stacked in a row next to the entrance. The subtle flavor of battery acid confirms the old familiar feelings.
“I bet the unit photos look interesting,” he says to General Bolton. Davis simply stands silently and takes in the scenery while Swims-the-Black sips a cup of coffee.
“Particularly the ones celebrating breaking the record for eating whatever the the local equivalent of buffalo wings is,” Hunter adds. “Any organizational hiccups getting everyone on the same page?”
“They designed the UIs of these things to be usable by Cletus the Backwoods Yokel with two weeks training,” Bolton replies. “They picked it up in a few days. The real pain in the ass was getting them all TS/SCI cleared. A lot of good Bashakra’i and Boranai’i didn’t make the cut.”
“Growing pains,” Hugh remarks.
“How do you do a background check on someone whose family might be on enemy worlds?” Hunter wonders, trying to recall the protocols for cold war defectors.
“You don’t, that was one of the no-gos, they needed to be second-generation rebels or have family on Boranai,” Bolton replies as the four men watch the bustle of activity. “And then they had to basically be raked over hot coals by CID, their habs were tossed, it was nasty - but we have more than 20...Naranai’i, I suppose, that went through it and asked for more.”
”That shows a remarkable degree of tolerance for Narsai’i paranoia,” Swims says. ”And a high degree of trust and effort by General Bolton.”
“That’s pretty damn heroic by itself,” Davis remarks.
“I’ll say.” Hunter furrows his brow, thinking about the foreign nationals in the embassies he’s rotated at. “Is there any annoying bureaucratic bullshit the Narsai’i have to go through here, like searches for animal or plant contaminants? Even if it’s just token actions, what all is done to make sure there are no second-class citizens?”
“Decon is handled on Diego Garcia - something that you still have to look forward to, Hunter,” Bolton says. “Nothing like a full-body power-washing.”
Hugh listens to the conversation even as his mind churns through the mystery of the two “benefactors”. Hear everything, say nothing, trust nobody. That’s what Garrett would say, right?
“Well, I know that I’m proud of how we’re working together across races here, but why don’t we go to my office and take this discussion somewhere more private?” Bolton asks.
“Lead the way, Sir,” Hugh says.
----
Bolton’s office is an eclectic mix of military-issue furniture, Narsai’i sentimental items and Imperial accents and decoration. His desk has both a Narsai'i computer and Imperial vox and holodisplay, an Imperial sun-coat is hanging on a rack by the door, and the mini-fridge in the corner is mostly stacked with plastic bottles with Imperial glyphs on them, rather than Coke or Pepsi. On the table behind his desk sits a row of family photos, taken as the general, his wife and three kids posed at their different vacation destinations. Hugh, Davis, Swims-the-Black and Hunter pick out the Rocky Mountains, Washington DC, London - and Spire City on Boranai, the distinctive spire of the research citadel rising out of frame behind them.
“How was it like taking the kids off-world? I’m thinking of bringing mine out sometime soon.”
“Oh, Janet and the kids had to wait outside of the bunker while we dialed Boranai for clearance reasons, Dennis, my youngest, wasn’t too pleased about that, but aside from that, we had a blast,” Bolton says. “Touring the Spire, taking a skimmer out for a few days of camping and star-gazing, and just touring the area around the Green Zone and soaking in the culture.” He smiles and picks up the picture to stare at it. “It was everything they wanted, and more than I could have hoped. They’ve already said they want to come back out in six months, and I’m thinking of staying when I’m rotated back off in a year or so.”
“Then let’s make sure we’re keeping Boranai,” Hugh says. “How quickly can we get a meeting with the mystery men?”
Bolton puts the picture down on his desk while Swims-the-Black and Davis take a back seat. “That depends on how quickly word reaches them that 815 is on Boranai and wants to talk, and how fast they send a reply back through the grapevine. But call it a few hours, tops. I think there’s a few people in this building who can send and receive word, the message is probably already out.”
“Good,” Hugh says. “How’s the security situation outside the green zone? I think they’ll want to meet us on neutral ground, I’d like to know how much of a shitstorm getting there will be and who might be gunning for us out there.”
“Well, it’s no Fallujah,” Bolton says. “Gate City never had the problems with insurgency and reconstruction that Spire City had, and after the insurgency imploded, things have been almost tranquil around here. There’s a few hit-and-run ambushes out around the perimeter, but no roadblocks or hostile neighborhoods to be aware of. There’s some places where the streets get a little more empty when we pass through, but no attacks in the city center for weeks. Spire City is more simply torn up. Reconstruction is almost done but not quite, and there’s still a lot of debris that needs to get cleared away from the push for the spire. There, we see an ambush once a week or more, but it’s never more than two or three attackers with beam rifles.”
“And beyond the city limits?” Hugh asks. “How are we doing in the hinterlands?”
“Skimmer patrols pretty much never get hit, simply because the insurgents are smart enough to know that there’s nowhere to run and hide out there,” Bolton replies. “In the city, they can vanish into thin air, but out there, we can have a half-dozen skimmers on top of them in minutes and have them completely boxed in.”
“Then we should plan for a meeting in the bad part of town,” Hugh says. “I don’t think they’ll choose a location where we can have aerial tracking on them before they can disappear. That means we’ll need up-to-date road maps, some rolling firepower...and a few good evacuation routes. If you really can have birds in the air in minutes, then I’m less worried about the ambush potential - they’d have to nail us with an alpha strike, because they wouldn’t have time for a real firefight. That’s...not easier to prevent, really, but it will make me feel better when we get there and the first thing that happens is not that we get blown up. Major Brand, what do you think?”
“Unless they want to play Butch Cassidy and meet out in a canyon somewhere, it makes as much sense as anything else. We’d want to make sure we’re not relying on street signs or anything they can flip around to disorient us. If we had someone with us we could actually trust who knew the area, that’d be nice.”
“Good point - can you spare a guide for us, General?” Hugh asks, nodding to Hunter.
“That I can,” Bolton replies. “How big of a convoy and escort do you think you’ll need?”
“Two trucks with fifties would make me happy enough,” Hugh says. “Much more than that and we’re liable to scare them off.”
“In terms of the network, are there any commonalities in the people who seem to be in touch with them? Is it urban or rural? What level of society do they seem to be most in touch with?”
“Well, it’s all urban out here, Hunter,” Bolton says. “The city just stops, and then there’s a wind break to keep the desert sand from piling up against the buildings. As far as our shadow network’s penetration into Boranai’i society, it’s at every level, as far as I can tell. Vosa Nakloni owns half of the business space in Gate City and every storefront around the gateport, and he’s come to me with proposals he says were passed by them, and we know that there’s kids on the street that play messenger for them. They don’t seem to focus on any one part of society, they just do what needs to be done to smooth things over and prevent problems - kind of like shadow ombudsmen.”
“If it pervades the entire social order, than everyone’s reliant on it. Maybe we should be looking less at slices of the population, and more at the society as a whole, and where Boranai stands in the Imperium. The Spire’s the most important thing on this planet, how might it figure in to our mysterious network?”
“By and large, the only times the Spire has been mentioned was in trying to get the Keepers back to work, once we patched the holes that were blown in the sides of the Spire,” Bolton replies. “Aside from that, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Actually, this might be unrelated, but what’s going on with the scientists? Are they still working? Who does the research go to? Are they now deciding what they want to look into? And are we funding all of that?”
“As of right now, we’re funding their current research programs, and we’re taking volunteers to teach us and the Wherren about the state of the art in Imperial science. DARPA fought hard to keep them funded and working, and the offer of being able to dictate the direction of their own research got a lot of the Keepers on our side. DARPA figures that we’re still going to want whatever research the Keepers put out, and I agree,” Bolton says. “The jobs in the Spire provide most of the money that keeps Spire City going, and if we want Boranai to succeed, we need to keep the economy here moving. Our military presence is doing wonders for Gate City, and Spire City is moving right along, with the Bashakra’i providing the trade routes for what few Boranai’i off-world products there are.”
“What’s the import-export trade like?” Hunter asks, still trying to figure the angles for Boranai within the Imperium.
“Import is almost entirely staples and raw materials for what industry there is, now that we’re cut off from the Imperium at large, and export is things like local arts and crafts,” Bolton says. “Boranai was an oversized outpost even before the invasion, and things fortunately have not changed all that much. Rumor has gotten around that Faxom-Io might be able to ship Imperial tech here soon, what’s the truth about that?”
“We have a contact for Faxom-Io shipments, yes,” Davis answers from behind Hunter and Hugh. “We’ll put you in touch with them within the week.”
“Good,” Bolton says.
“How have your troops been? Any problems?” Hunter asks.
"There's been some friction," Bolton admits. "Mostly at the beginning, and for a few weeks after new units rotate in. That's part of why I've made the effort to include Bashakra'i and Boranai'i in the day-to-day on base, get our boys and girls acclimated to living and working alongside our allies, immersing themselves in their culture. After all, we can't count on being the dominant cultural force anymore. Not that's a bad thing, once you get down to the individuals, there's a lot we should be learning from them."
“If you were to boil it down, what should we be learning from them?”
"Tolerance, for other humans, at least. They're very rational people, if you can make a good case for your side that they can't argue with, I've found Imperials more willing to consider your points." Bolton shrugs. "Beyond that, it's something that's more difficult to put into words, per se. I, personally, just feel that they've got the right idea on how to live. You'll see, Hunter, once you get a chance to spend more time out here."
“Well, I can’t quite grow my hair out and really walk the land until we’ve got Congress behind us," Hunter says. "But that’s interesting. What’s your take on how we’re going to integrate, longer-term?”
"Like any other cultural shift - some parts of Earth will go quickly, others will take decades, if at all," Bolton says. "I don't think we'll need any kind of push to do so, either. There's so much on offer out here, I think that Earth will want to integrate sooner than you think."
“Future’s already here, just unevenly distributed,” Hunter repeats one of his favorite aphorisms of the here and now. “Have you noticed anything just sort of strange or unusual? It could be about Boranai, or the way things work here, or just something that doesn’t make sense.”
Bolton laughs. "It's another culture and an alien world, Hunter. For the first few months, everything seemed weird, and now, everything here seems normal and flying back to DC seems weird. You'll need to be more specific than that."
“Alright then. So, these mysterious gentlemen seem like they’re at the center of a hidden social network. It must exist for a reason, and play some role in the system here. No one’s talking about, but it exists. So, is there anything about how the economy or the society operates that doesn’t seem to fit with the explanations of how they say things work?”
"Not that I've seen," Bolton says. "They're pretty straight shooters. That's part of why I don't think that they're Imperial spies or otherwise trying to sabotage things - they've had too many chances to give us bad information that looks good on the surface."
“My current hunch is that they’re probably not directly hostile, but it’s still damnably nerve-wracking to feel like there’s some kind of major conspiracy afoot, benevolent or not.”
Bolton nods. "I agree, it's not the best situation to find ourselves in, but if this is what it takes to create a stable partnership between Boranai and Earth, then what choice do we have?"
"Indeed, sir," Davis says, finally speaking up from the back of the room. "Now, if Hunter and Hugh have satisfied their paranoia about our mysterious benefactors..."
“You only have to be right once for paranoia to be worth it,” Hunter mutters with a slowly-emerging grin.
“I’m just following Uncle Ronnie’s advice,” Hugh says. “Trust, but verify.”
Davis smirks. “Then Swims-the-Black and I would like to talk about the actual reason why we came to Boranai.”
Bolton nods as Hugh and Hunter vacate the two guest seats in the general’s office and Swims-the-Black and Davis take their place. “The attempts to get you and Miss Barnes crammed in a closet while the Pentagon takes over the war.”
Davis nods. “And they’ve made it clear that the only thing that will convince them to overlook our ‘loyalty problem’ is proof that GRHDI and Task Force 815 are irreplacable.”
“And you’ve come to Boranai looking for that proof,” Bolton replies.
Davis nods. “Yep.” He nods towards Swims-the-Black. “Do you speak Whirr-sign, General? Swims-the-Black has some questions of his own as well.”
“I don’t speak it, but I understand it well enough,” Bolton says. “So, what first?”
”The GRHDI, I think," Swims grunts. "How big of an impact does the GRHDI have on events on Boranai, day to day or in the larger scheme of things?"
Hugh translates Swims-the-Black's question for Hunter while Bolton answers it. "Well, Miss Barnes and her people are a constant presence in planning meetings and talks with the locals, they play the important role of interpreting what each side really wants and is really saying for the other. I know that it's second-nature to you, but we're still having problems really seeing things from the perspective of those who aren't from Earth, and the GRHDI is invaluable for translating our priorities so the Boranai'i can understand our position better. That means that the GRHDI, by definition, has to be culturally fluent and understanding of not only Narsai'i, but Imperial - or rather Naranai'i - culture. Now, if that sounds like 'going native', then I suppose that's what I see the role of the GRHDI to be. Someone needs to be the one who can walk on both sides of that cultural divide, and if that means that some of the GRHDI personnel find themselves preferring the Naranai'i lifestyle, as long as their heads are in the right place, then I don't see a problem with that."
"But not just to keep us isolated from the rest of the God-fearing, red-blooded True Americans, I presume," Davis says.
"No, no," Bolton says. "This is just a transitional role for you. There's going to be a time very soon where, at the very least, everyone who goes off-world is going to have to be 'corrupted', according to the Pentagon's and the CIA's view of things, if not the whole culture. We can't just sit back and say, 'Well, the GRHDI are fluent in Naranai'i culture, that's all we need'."
"Agreed, General," Swims says. "And Task Force 815? Is there any influence that we have had?"
"That depends on what you mean by influence, I suppose," Bolton says. He thinks for a second before continuing. "There's nothing direct. Not to take away from the heroism and leadership that Captain Verrill and Sergeant Putupu showed at the Spire and in capturing the Needleship, but this was a joint US Army-Bashakra'i operation and we were the ones who captured Boranai. This wasn't Whiirr or Napai; at the very least credit has to be shared between Task Force Enterprise and Task Force 815. But. The influence that Task Force 815 has in shaping Imperial perceptions of what to expect when you're dealing with the Narsai'i is immense. The Boranai'i hear about what you all have been doing through the Bashakra'i, and the way Task Force 815 has acted towards Imperials, giving them a second chance and treating them with respect, while at the same time being a formidable enemy that can and will take every advantage and pull an impossible victory out of thin air if crossed, colors every encounter with the Boranai'i. They expect a shrewd but respectful and honest response from us, which might not make our jobs easier, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that your reputation alone has opened more than a few doors for us."
A few gratified spots of green fade in and out on Swims-the-Black's fur. "And if either Task Force 815 or the GRHDI were to be taken away?" Swims-the-Black asks.
"Then we would lose our bridge to the Imperial culture," Bolton says matter-of-factly. "The US military is not set up to have the kind of cultural liaisons we need to be able to dialog with the Imperials we come across - Hell, we have a hard enough time connecting with our opponents on Earth. The kind of depth of cultural immersion and blended organization that's needed for us to be able to really communicate and negotiate with the Imperium isn't possible in the military, I think. We need an organization like the GRHDI, where embracing the aspects of Imperial culture is encouraged. And Task Force 815 is the military side of that, I think. This isn't a war that we can win through sheer overwhelming force, simply because the Imperium has more of it. We need cultural victories, we need to pick our battles and fight in such a way that our victories serve more to underscore how brutal and inhumane the Imperium is, and how much better an alternative siding with the Narsai'i and Bashakra'i is. Those are the battles that Task Force 815 is better than anyone else at - fighting the war to prove which side has the better culture, while scoring territorial gains as well. The Hedion Blackout would have never been approved by the Pentagon, but it's already convinced a good amount of the pro-Imperium holdouts to give our side a second chance. If you want a glib sentence to put in your report, I'd say that without Task Force 815, we lose the ability to fight this war in a way we can actually win, and without the GRHDI, we lose the ability to make this a war worth winning in the first place."
Davis and Swims-the-Black both smile at that last line. "Thank you, General, I couldn't have put it better myself," Davis says.
"We just need you to put that in writing for us," Swims adds.
“In triplicate.” Hunter says with a smile. “Not to get too wonkish on you, sir, but if you were to calculate the GRHDI and 815’s reputation and cultural knowledge as a force multiplier, what would be your ballpark figure?”
"Considering that it’s the influence of the GRHDI and Task Force 815 that has stabilized Boranai and allowed us an open dialog with the Imperium? It’s incalculable. Even our mysterious benefactors have referenced members of Task Force 815 by name. Without you guys and girls, we would be failing to hold Boranai," Bolton says. "Is there anything else?"
Swims-the-Black ruffles his fur slightly. "Actually, General, there is one question I have. What is the status of the Wherren the Imperium brought to Boranai? I understand that there were several thousand Wherren slaves on Boranai at the time of the invasion, and I want to know how they are being treated and what is being done for them."
Bolton nods. "I understand your concern, Swims-the-Black. Well, most of them have left Boranai and either gone back to Whiirr or have gone with the Bashakra'i to Atea - the dry heat here doesn't really agree with the Wherren, as I'm sure you know. The ones who have stayed were working in local businesses for the most part. Some stayed for family reasons, others out of loyalty to their...employers, now, and a lot of them were construction slaves that we offered paid work helping with the reconstruction efforts."
"And their living conditions?"
"The tenement housing the Wherren were forced into have been cleaned up, and some of the first hab blocks that we put up were in that area," Bolton says. "One of the chiefs from Whiirr, Hiigra, negotiated a rent control schedule of sorts, so they can afford to live in the hab blocks while still paying rent, while others have moved into other parts of Spire City and Gate City to live closer to where they work. There's still a lot of tension between some of the Boranai'i bigots, there's a fair amount of prejudice and the occasional anti-Wherren crime, but every Wherren has a place to live and is working to pay their own way here, something that your chief Hiigra seemed to think was very important."
Swims-the-Black's fur turned a pleased shade of green. "That it is, General, thank you. How bad is the prejudice and crime against Wherren?"
"It's not as bad as it could be, but it's certainly not what I would call good, either." Bolton sighs. "Wherren are targeted far more often for robbery and attacks, we usually see one or two assaults against Wherren for being in the wrong neighborhood or somewhere else at the wrong time a month. Most Boranai'i weren't opposed to Wherren slavery but aren't upset it's gone, either, but some don't like that Wherren are supposed to be treated as equals now, and they're taking it out on the Wherren here. The worst ones are the insurgents, there's a lot of anti-Wherren bigotry in there, and we have to keep additional patrols around the Wherren neighborhoods of Spire City and Gate City to make sure they don't get in there and start a killing spree." Bolton looks actively uncomfortable having to tell this to Swims-the-Black. "I'm sorry, but there's not much more we can do right now."
Swims nods solemnly, his fur a slight shade of blue and violet. "I understand. It is one thing to say that my people are no longer slaves, but quite another to get the former slave owners to believe that. I believe that your nation has experienced a similar problem."
"Still does, I think," Bolton says. "Anything else?"
Davis and Swims-the-Black stand up, Swims-the-Black straightening his vest while Davis shakes Bolton's hand. "No, I believe that's all. Thank you for your time, General."
Swims-the-Black's hand completely swallows Bolton's when the Wherren shakes the general's hand. "And your honesty."
"My pleasure," Bolton replies. "You boys and girls are the reason we've made it as far as we have, I'll do what I can to make sure you keep being able to do what you do."
“Thank you for your time, Sir,” Hugh says, not quite committing to praise.
Hunter nods, shakes Bolton’s hand, and wishes him well. “It’s always good to see you, sir. Keep your fingers crossed.” Internally, he hopes that Bolton’s reputation is strong enough to carry his words. He’s close to things here, and it’s important to find ways to show examples of soldiers not becoming Col. Kurtz off-world.
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