GWOT V - SDF
Dec. 21st, 2019 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drewkittyGWOT 5 - SDF
After turning over General Batesman in Barstow ... where he was immediately hustled aboard a jet to San Jose, escorted by fighters on strip alert ... I finally had a chance to change. Unlike Batesman, who still smelled of his own fluids.
I heard boots in the outer locker room. Several pairs.
I was literally unarmed. I'd put my handgun in my locker. I hadn't flown with anything heavier.
I looked at the officer's shower room window. Small, vertical, too small to get through.
"Captain [18]," a stern voice called out.
This was going to get entirely too interesting.
"Who wants to know?" I yelled out, as if casually, as I soaped myself down. I wanted to be literally slippery for what might come next.
A more prudent officer might have screamed for help out that little window. I've been accused fo many things, but never prudence.
"Captain," chided the voice.
I stuck my head out, still soapy, to get a brief glance at what waited for me, and yanked it back.
Two officers in undress uniforms, two MPs. All armed, none with weapons drawn.
If it was an arrest detail, that was a big mistake.
They weren't, for example, going through my locker or standing with guns drawn in opposite corners of the locker room. They should have, and should have been.
But I'd seen the essential point, the rank tabs of the man addressing me. Major.
I reluctantly rinsed off the soap and came back out, my towel in my left hand. Already planning how I would distract, blind, disarm and engage the threats.
"Major," I replied.
"Dress and follow us. You are detained under the Republic Security Act."
His rank made it lawful. But he gestured to a bundle of clothing that was not mine.
Surprisingly, it fit. And it had captain's tabs.
I dried off and put it on. I moved towards my locker and the MPs shook their heads.
They politely walked me out to an idling SUV with dark tinted windows. I took the right front seat; no one stopped me.
The other officer ended up as the driver.
The Republic Security Office has asked that I write a long, convoluted story about how I was driven in circles, blindfolded, put on a plane or two, flown by helicopter, swam a moat, took an elevator up to a tram car and then down to a tunnel. These things may all have happened. Please don't nuke Barstow trying to take out the place I'm about to write about it. Not only is it not there, but it's not very interesting anyway.
After pulling into a building, dismounting and then passing through three sets of guards, each more alert and heavily armed than the last, I reached a final security station. At this point it was just the Major and myself.
The screener politely explained that I would have to be wanded, hand frisked and sit on a BOSS chair.
I invited the Major to go first. He complied. So I did.
Such modern innovations. We had to do our cavity searches the old fashioned way at Alviso.
The tunnel led to what looked like the foyer of a seedy run-down hotel. The four sides of the underground courtyard were a quarters desk, a restaurant, a reception area leading to staff offices, and a reception desk leading to a conference area. The Major escorted me to the latter, where a bored clerk chewing on her pencil directed me to "Room 3."
Room 3 was the size of a small classroom and had two tables and six chairs in it. When I arrived, it was empty, with a whiteboard marked "Please wait."
So I did. But not for long.
Someone I recognized came in, followed by a General I did not.
"Captain [18], good to see you. Thank you for capturing General Batesman, thank you for everything at Alviso, and good work so far at the Border. I have to get back to my conference but I need to introduce you to General [Blank]. Do whatever he asks, he speaks with my voice. Odds favor."
And with that Pat was gone. It was telling that the Governor could move around personally and freely without her usual heavily armed escort.
I looked at General Blank, who closed the door behind him and took up a seat.
Sixties. Not armed. California Republic, Air National Guard. Flight officer. Injured, more than once, but the limp fairly recent. Intellectual. Alive eyes.
I did not salute. I hadn't called this meeting.
"I am the Commanding General of the Strategic Defense Force."
Gulp.
Most people knew very little about the SDF. It had a logo, a bear throwing a javelin. It had a name to go with the acronym. And it held California's nuclear weapons. And maybe other Stuff, too.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I understand that you were a member of the California Military Commission?"
"Right up until Alviso Prison was decommissioned, yes."
"I need you to wear your Military Commission hat for a minute. Under what circumstances is the devastation of enemy population centers lawful?"
I wasn't expecting that question. But my reply was instant.
"Never. Oh, you can contrive arguments involving reprisal, national survival, and force majure. But if you have to nuke cities to win, you're a loser with an atrocity problem."
"Very good. Now, when is it _ethical_?"
This was going to be a deeper conversation than I thought. And I intuited that the wrong answers might just cause me to be carried out feet first.
"The survival of humanity in question. Greater loss of life immediately threatened. Deterrence of national destruction. All when there is no other way."
"Let's talk about San Francisco. So if the survival of humanity were threatened, nuking the City would have been OK?"
"I need to draw a sharp line here. Real crimes versus hypothetical ones. When I oversaw the execution of four thousand war criminals at Alviso, that was … real. No one was hung or shot for what they _might_ do next week; they were executed for what they had actually done, and how they had done it. So no 'what ifs' or 'might happens.'"
"But if that were the choice, the survival of humanity in your left hand, and San Francisco in your right hand, which one do you drop? The species or SF?"
"Washington," I retorted. "New York, or at least Manhattan. Denver. Paris? How about Warsaw? Or Bucharest? Let's get the best trade we can."
"You talked about greater loss of life immediately threatened. If nuking SF could have prevented the China War… then what?"
As opposed to starting it.
"Prove to me the inevitability of the choice. I'd like to explore some other options. Two divisions of American Marines. A division of Republic Marines. Eight thousand screaming Chinamen."
"Excuse me?"
"Cultural reference."
"So troops are more expendable than cities? Why?"
"We volunteered. We're combatants. We consented, if uniforms and laws of war mean anything at all."
"Deterrence of national destruction."
"America and Russia didn't do the dance for fifty years because the first one to drop trousers would get it in the shorts. Mutual Assured Destruction is one of the most obscene concepts humanity has ever entertained, but … it sometimes works. I believe it's keeping California alive right this instant."
"You are correct. I am in regular contact with my counterpart in the American Air Defense Command, what was NORAD before the Canadians withdrew from it. Precisely what you intuit was a real possibility before our presentation of capabilities at the UN.
"Sorry for all the philosophy, but I had to know where you stood. You are now a member of the Strategic Defense Force."
He handed me something. You don't need to know what. No one ever needs to know what. Hopefully no one ever will.
"Keep that secure, with your life. If you authenticate yourself with any SDF asset, you have full release authority and the brevet rank of Colonel, SDF. But only the Governor and myself... and the PAL systems… know that.
"Try not to get killed at the Border. Odds favor, Captain."
"Why?"
"Distributed command and control deters decap strikes. The Untied Snakes would have to kill every Republic officer to be certain to get everyone with the codes. Even then... they'd be wrong. There is an SDF hidden reserve."
With that the General left.
Then I did.
The desk arranged my departure and handed me several thousand Warbucks to cover my leave and travel.
###
My second stop was a shopping mall in Riverside. I bought civilian clothes for myself. And some frilly things for a 'friend.'
I stopped by Campos Nation on the way back and spent two days in the cathouse.
The three of them earned every penny.
After turning over General Batesman in Barstow ... where he was immediately hustled aboard a jet to San Jose, escorted by fighters on strip alert ... I finally had a chance to change. Unlike Batesman, who still smelled of his own fluids.
I heard boots in the outer locker room. Several pairs.
I was literally unarmed. I'd put my handgun in my locker. I hadn't flown with anything heavier.
I looked at the officer's shower room window. Small, vertical, too small to get through.
"Captain [18]," a stern voice called out.
This was going to get entirely too interesting.
"Who wants to know?" I yelled out, as if casually, as I soaped myself down. I wanted to be literally slippery for what might come next.
A more prudent officer might have screamed for help out that little window. I've been accused fo many things, but never prudence.
"Captain," chided the voice.
I stuck my head out, still soapy, to get a brief glance at what waited for me, and yanked it back.
Two officers in undress uniforms, two MPs. All armed, none with weapons drawn.
If it was an arrest detail, that was a big mistake.
They weren't, for example, going through my locker or standing with guns drawn in opposite corners of the locker room. They should have, and should have been.
But I'd seen the essential point, the rank tabs of the man addressing me. Major.
I reluctantly rinsed off the soap and came back out, my towel in my left hand. Already planning how I would distract, blind, disarm and engage the threats.
"Major," I replied.
"Dress and follow us. You are detained under the Republic Security Act."
His rank made it lawful. But he gestured to a bundle of clothing that was not mine.
Surprisingly, it fit. And it had captain's tabs.
I dried off and put it on. I moved towards my locker and the MPs shook their heads.
They politely walked me out to an idling SUV with dark tinted windows. I took the right front seat; no one stopped me.
The other officer ended up as the driver.
The Republic Security Office has asked that I write a long, convoluted story about how I was driven in circles, blindfolded, put on a plane or two, flown by helicopter, swam a moat, took an elevator up to a tram car and then down to a tunnel. These things may all have happened. Please don't nuke Barstow trying to take out the place I'm about to write about it. Not only is it not there, but it's not very interesting anyway.
After pulling into a building, dismounting and then passing through three sets of guards, each more alert and heavily armed than the last, I reached a final security station. At this point it was just the Major and myself.
The screener politely explained that I would have to be wanded, hand frisked and sit on a BOSS chair.
I invited the Major to go first. He complied. So I did.
Such modern innovations. We had to do our cavity searches the old fashioned way at Alviso.
The tunnel led to what looked like the foyer of a seedy run-down hotel. The four sides of the underground courtyard were a quarters desk, a restaurant, a reception area leading to staff offices, and a reception desk leading to a conference area. The Major escorted me to the latter, where a bored clerk chewing on her pencil directed me to "Room 3."
Room 3 was the size of a small classroom and had two tables and six chairs in it. When I arrived, it was empty, with a whiteboard marked "Please wait."
So I did. But not for long.
Someone I recognized came in, followed by a General I did not.
"Captain [18], good to see you. Thank you for capturing General Batesman, thank you for everything at Alviso, and good work so far at the Border. I have to get back to my conference but I need to introduce you to General [Blank]. Do whatever he asks, he speaks with my voice. Odds favor."
And with that Pat was gone. It was telling that the Governor could move around personally and freely without her usual heavily armed escort.
I looked at General Blank, who closed the door behind him and took up a seat.
Sixties. Not armed. California Republic, Air National Guard. Flight officer. Injured, more than once, but the limp fairly recent. Intellectual. Alive eyes.
I did not salute. I hadn't called this meeting.
"I am the Commanding General of the Strategic Defense Force."
Gulp.
Most people knew very little about the SDF. It had a logo, a bear throwing a javelin. It had a name to go with the acronym. And it held California's nuclear weapons. And maybe other Stuff, too.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I understand that you were a member of the California Military Commission?"
"Right up until Alviso Prison was decommissioned, yes."
"I need you to wear your Military Commission hat for a minute. Under what circumstances is the devastation of enemy population centers lawful?"
I wasn't expecting that question. But my reply was instant.
"Never. Oh, you can contrive arguments involving reprisal, national survival, and force majure. But if you have to nuke cities to win, you're a loser with an atrocity problem."
"Very good. Now, when is it _ethical_?"
This was going to be a deeper conversation than I thought. And I intuited that the wrong answers might just cause me to be carried out feet first.
"The survival of humanity in question. Greater loss of life immediately threatened. Deterrence of national destruction. All when there is no other way."
"Let's talk about San Francisco. So if the survival of humanity were threatened, nuking the City would have been OK?"
"I need to draw a sharp line here. Real crimes versus hypothetical ones. When I oversaw the execution of four thousand war criminals at Alviso, that was … real. No one was hung or shot for what they _might_ do next week; they were executed for what they had actually done, and how they had done it. So no 'what ifs' or 'might happens.'"
"But if that were the choice, the survival of humanity in your left hand, and San Francisco in your right hand, which one do you drop? The species or SF?"
"Washington," I retorted. "New York, or at least Manhattan. Denver. Paris? How about Warsaw? Or Bucharest? Let's get the best trade we can."
"You talked about greater loss of life immediately threatened. If nuking SF could have prevented the China War… then what?"
As opposed to starting it.
"Prove to me the inevitability of the choice. I'd like to explore some other options. Two divisions of American Marines. A division of Republic Marines. Eight thousand screaming Chinamen."
"Excuse me?"
"Cultural reference."
"So troops are more expendable than cities? Why?"
"We volunteered. We're combatants. We consented, if uniforms and laws of war mean anything at all."
"Deterrence of national destruction."
"America and Russia didn't do the dance for fifty years because the first one to drop trousers would get it in the shorts. Mutual Assured Destruction is one of the most obscene concepts humanity has ever entertained, but … it sometimes works. I believe it's keeping California alive right this instant."
"You are correct. I am in regular contact with my counterpart in the American Air Defense Command, what was NORAD before the Canadians withdrew from it. Precisely what you intuit was a real possibility before our presentation of capabilities at the UN.
"Sorry for all the philosophy, but I had to know where you stood. You are now a member of the Strategic Defense Force."
He handed me something. You don't need to know what. No one ever needs to know what. Hopefully no one ever will.
"Keep that secure, with your life. If you authenticate yourself with any SDF asset, you have full release authority and the brevet rank of Colonel, SDF. But only the Governor and myself... and the PAL systems… know that.
"Try not to get killed at the Border. Odds favor, Captain."
"Why?"
"Distributed command and control deters decap strikes. The Untied Snakes would have to kill every Republic officer to be certain to get everyone with the codes. Even then... they'd be wrong. There is an SDF hidden reserve."
With that the General left.
Then I did.
The desk arranged my departure and handed me several thousand Warbucks to cover my leave and travel.
###
My second stop was a shopping mall in Riverside. I bought civilian clothes for myself. And some frilly things for a 'friend.'
I stopped by Campos Nation on the way back and spent two days in the cathouse.
The three of them earned every penny.
