Dawn of Tears - 13. Chapter 13

Note to Readers: I owe a lot of what happened in my life to the events in Idaho. It was the first test of my unnatural intelligence, and other abilities. It established my reputation as a calm, cool, and unflappable young man in the face of danger, and firmed up the impression of my dedication to the restoration of America, and helping people in need.

It was a scary experience for me, a journy into unknown situations that I had never experienced before. Things I'd only read about, theorized about, imagined, were really happening and I was in the middle of it, at the center even. I started the mission to Idaho a thirteen year old boy, faced with a situation that required growing up. I finished the mission a young man, taking on an adult role in a society gone to hell in a handbasket.

I should have told Dad Jacobs that I just wanted to be a kid.

"It definitely looks like we'll have a welcoming committee," Connors was saying in the conference room of the plane as I looked over the photos he'd just finished analyzing, "but it doesn't look like an obvious trap. There's no armor, and only a few vehicles. It looks like these here are pickup trucks with machine guns jury-rigged on them. They are a lot like what we saw in Iraq during the early days of that war. The forward team plane should be arriving in about twenty minutes. The armored personnel carrier has been equipped with a snow plow on the front and steamers to deice the runway before we land. From these shots it looked like someone ran a snow plow without really knowing what they were doing. The Hercules can manage that landing, but this plane we're in won't make it unless it gets fixed better."

"Did you inform the Idaho people that we'll be landing a forward team first?" Major Grant asked in his angry tone. I was only paying partial attention to the conversation, instead pouring over the close up satellite shots of the airport, and the town to the north of it. There was a normal set of pictures, and then several infrared shots taken just an hour before. The snow glare made the regular shots harder to deal with, but at least the cloud cover hadn't been too thick. It was the infrared that had my brain working overtime, remembering lessons from Captain Williams and others about military strategy, supply, and positioning of forces.

"Yes, sir we did." Connors said. "They replied that they had done what they could but the airport workers couldn't be found. They'll wait until our plane arrives before coming to greet us and actually thanked us for having a team to take care of the runway for them."

"So they seem to doing their best to be friendly." Major Grant's tone was satisfied now. "That should be helpful as long as we don't make any more stupid mistakes."

He was referring to the binders with our 'official' orders and credentials in them. He'd thrown a fit and ordered Captain Unger to destroy them. When Major Smith had broken in, saying he thought it was a good idea, Grant had backed off, simply ordering that the three binders be made to look the same, undistinguishable at first glance. He then returned a few minutes later with a new sheet for my binder, with orders he'd written and signed by him. Unger had taken it without comment, put it in the binder and left it at that. When Grant's back was turned, one of Unger's men opened the red leather binder and put the original orders back inside, disposing of Grant's orders. Now I was in the conference room with Grant, Smith, Unger, Williams, and Connors. It had been made clear by Grant that I was there as a 'learning' experience only.

"We're not dealing with an organized military force, in control of this state." I said aloud after studying the photos for the city and airport a final time.

"Shut up, boy." Major Grant said immediately. "We're dealing with the people in charge of Idaho right now. We have to treat them with respect."

"What makes you say that Dylan?" Major Smith asked after Grant had finished. I turned to my laptop and pulled up the computer files from which the photos had been printed, and switched to the overhead. I'd learned that the conference room had a projector that flashed its picture on a screen that descended on the right side of the room. Connors got up and closed the remaining shades to make the picture clearer. Higgs was the one who had discovered this fact and used it earlier to review my essay in the brief time that Grant had left the room fifteen minutes before this meeting had started and Grant kicked him out.

"Okay, look at this infrared photo of the airport." I said after pulling the picture up. I mentally thanked the Air Force for having such a high tech system. Rising from my seat, I walked to the screen and pointed out the dots.

"Look here in the main terminal. It's totally dark, nothing at all." I said, pointing out what I was referring to as I spoke. "Then here's the control tower. There's a generator running here, probably providing power for the radio transmitter. Everything has been over their air traffic control frequency, not military or civilian channels. These here, as marked by the Intel team that sent the photos to us are probably garbage can fires used for warmth by the ten figures around them, probably guards. They estimate another ten people in the building, with coal or kerosene heaters that are making these little blobs."

"That's the greeting party they are preparing." Major Grant snorted.

"Yes, sir, it is." I said. "Now, we've also been told that they can't power the landing lights, so our forward team is landing in the last minutes of daylight, and then setting up flares to guide us onto the runway. The Colonel's been bitching about that since we found out."

"That's happening at airports all over the country!" Grant snapped angrily. "Get to your point and stop wasting our time."

"Yes sir, I will." I said softly, moving back to the computer.

"Now, look at this picture." I continued. "It's of central Boise. There's only a few hundred people here, and most of them are centered in three buildings, that when cross-referenced to maps are two churches and the Red Cross shelter. If I were to pull up each section of the city, you would see specific patterns. Groups of ten to twenty people clustered into single homes, or larger groups in buildings like churches, shelters, or schools. There's no vehicle traffic, and only a few watch fires easily identifiable outside of the structures. Most of those are around the private homes with groups of people in them. There's no command center, no obvious central authority. The Air Force sent one of their electronic spying planes into the area two hours ago. They loitered until ten minutes ago, a hundred miles away, and picked up no radio traffic whatsoever. The only thing they picked up was the EM field of two to three generators, and what seemed like a satellite receiver feeding a television in the airport area. Those Air Force planes can pick up the signals from a computer to its monitor at one hundred miles, and they picked up nothing like an organized command."

"That doesn't make a difference for our mission." Grant insisted. "Now sit down and shut up."

"Sir, with all due respect, you're not looking at the full picture." I said. "This makes every difference in our mission. We're not dealing with a government here, we're not dealing with a military dictatorship; we're dealing with street thugs."

"That's enough Mr. Jacobs." Grant snapped angrily. "You may leave the room now and prepare yourself for playing at being a grown up."

"Major Grant, I will not leave this room." I said firmly. "Sergeant Connors, please go to the communications area and have Airmen Casters place a satellite call to Air Force One. They should be landing in Iceland soon. I wish to speak to the President immediately."

"Sergeant, you will do no such thing." Major Grant said. "Escort Mr. Jacobs to his cabin and hold him there until he is needed."

"Major Grant, don't make me force this issue." I warned in an angry tone. I could feel that tingling starting in my hands, and I was surprised. This was the first time I'd ever felt it in a situation that wasn't somehow potentially sexual.

"This is the real world, kid." Grant sneered at me. "Little brats can't go running to Daddy whenever they don't get their way. Just pray I don't press charges for insubordination. McFarland was right; you are not fit to wear a uniform."

"Major Smith, Captain Unger, Captain Williams," I said firmly, praying that my voice would not break now, "in your opinions, does the hypothesis I just presented warrant a reconsideration of our approach to this situation?"

"Sergeant, take him to his room, now!" Grant nearly shouted, but Connors remained firmly in his seat.

"Calm down, Major." Smith said. He'd been looking at Unger and Williams, both of whom had nodded at my question. "He has the authority to do this."

"I will not…" Grant started to shout, but he stopped when my hand slapped the table loudly. It stung for a moment and I stared at it in surprise at the way it stung.

"Major Grant, please do not embarrass yourself any further." I said softly into the silence that followed. "I know you don't like having a kid being in the position that I am, and I know that you do not respect me, or my father for having put me in this situation. However, I am in this position and I'm here for a reason. If I'm wrong, you can rest assured that I will never, ever be in a situation like this again. If I'm right though, you stand to lose a lot by what you're doing right now. If I'm wrong, you can have my head on a platter and be known as the man who saved us from a national embarrassment. If I'm right though, and you persist in this behavior, you can kiss any hopes of furthering your career goodbye forever. When you say we should approach them in a friendly manner, you are absolutely correct, even if my hypothesis is right. Give me a chance, Major. If I'm right, you'll still win, if I'm wrong, you'll still win. I'm not going to do anything that will prevent you from stepping in the moment I'm proven wrong."

"I'm going to enjoy watching you fall on your face, boy." Major Grant said angrily, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and fuming. He glared at Major Smith like he'd been betrayed by the Oregon officer. Connors looked at me and I nodded. He got up to head towards the communication station, but before the door closed, Chambers and Jones from my security detail appeared. They took positions on either side of the door and glared at Major Grant stonily, their rifles gripped tightly across their chests. Their point was clear that they were here to protect me from him. That only caused him to glare at me even harder. The minutes ticked by slowly before Connors returned and sat down. I noticed that door stayed open behind him, and the light from the camera crew appeared there. Grant started to say something, but he shut up immediately.

"They're recording not transmitting." Connors whispered to me, and I made a mental note to talk to dad in private sometime about a reward for this man. He was damn good at protecting me.

"Mr. Jacobs, the President is being patched through now." The voice of Airmen Casters said, coming through the room's speakers. I knew there was a microphone embedded in the phone at the center of the table, and a red light appeared on it, indicating the microphone on it was now active.

"Dylan?" Dad's voice came through with just a trace of static. "What's going on son?"

"We're still in the air, Mr. President." I said, more formally because of the camera behind us than the 'DAD!' I wanted to scream out in relief. "We've been going over satellite photos and information from the Air Force on Boise's current conditions. Majors Grant and Smith, and I all think there's something off about them. I know you've been busy and I'm sure you and the Generals with you haven't had a chance to look at them, but there's some really odd patterns there."

"You're right; we've been pretty busy here." Dad said. "We're just getting ready to disembark and meet the King."

"Sorry about that dad, but I think the situation here is different enough from what we're expecting that your authority is needed." I said quickly.

"Hold on a second son." Dad said. "Henry's here as well and he started pulling up the pictures you referenced. We're both looking at them now."

"Heya bro." I said with a touch of emotion in my voice.

"Heya Dylan." Henry's voice also had some emotion in it. I realized how much I missed having him around. "General McFarland's here too. We're in the conference room on the plane and have it projected on a screen so everyone can see the pictures."

"Okay, pull up the picture of the airport." I said quickly. "Look at the tower building. There's the generator there. It's pretty much the only generator in town that we've been able to detect. There a few others in town, but no other source of power. Outside you can see the fires from burn barrels and men on guard duty huddled around them. There's more people inside huddled around what are probably kerosene heaters or fires or something like that. That's the welcoming party. They've only got pickups with machine guns on them, much like Iraq and Somalia. The vehicles of thugs."

"Got it." Dad's voice was clearer now, and I really was glad that he was a General. He understood this stuff far better than I did.

"Now pull up the picture of downtown Boise. Zoom in so that you focus on the downtown area itself." I said and waited for Henry to do that and look at them.

"Looks like groups in a couple of shelters." Dad's voice said. Watch fires outside. No generators or other power signatures. Looks like portable heaters or fires for heat."

"Now zoom out and look at the western section of town." I said and again we waited.

"What kind of buildings are these smaller clusters of people using?" Dad asked. "We don't have the overlay map here."

"They're private homes." I answered immediately. "It's the same pattern all over the city. Small groups of people in private homes, crowded together for warmth and protection. Some shelters still in operation with evidence of guards on the outside, and most of the power generators come from the shelter type facilities. There are no armed vehicles, even the converted vehicles at the airport."

"Do you think it's a hostage attempt to get out and go somewhere else or a trick to get resources?" Dad asked.

"We're not sure, here." I said instantly. "It could be an attempt to get fuel, or get an aircraft to take them wherever they want to go, but I'm absolutely certain that we're dealing with street-thugs here, not people in control of a city, much less a state. I bet we're going to find that it's been every man for himself. We're probably going to find no food supplies here, just people in a great deal of need."

"What do you want from me son?" Dad asked after a long pause as he thought things over.

"Mr. President, you sent us here to negotiate with insurgents running the State of Idaho." I said slowly and clearly. "It is my opinion that whatever insurgents there are down there, they do not run the State of Idaho. I do not believe this is the situation we though it was, and I believe instead of a negotiations mission, this is a rescue mission. I think we'll find that once we've dealt with the group at the airport we'll find that the people of Idaho need immediate aid, and leadership."

"He's right dad." Henry's voice came through the speakerphone. "I don't think there's any organized control there. We really should have taken these pictures earlier."

"I agree with you both." Dad's voice was loud and clear now, no static at all, and I noticed we'd been climbing ever since the transmission began. "Good work on the analysis to you and your team. Do you want to abort your landing and have an assault team come in instead?"

"Sergeant Connors, how many combat troops are there in the support plane?" I asked, realizing that there had to be more there than he had mentioned earlier.

"We have the Bradley, it's fully crewed and armed with a 25mm cannon and a TOW launcher." Connors said. "We have a full maintenance crew for it, all combat veterans and capable of acting as infantry. That's eight people with M-16 rifles and a SAW. There's also a Special Forces unit with them."

"Plus the detail on this plane." I said, thinking hard, and staring at the photo of the terminal building. "They have twenty to thirty people, several of who probably aren't combatants, and of unknown combat skill. When is the support plane landing?"

"Ten minutes." Connors said. "They're circling at low altitude now, making sure with thermal gear that there are no surprises before landing. The Special Forces are equipped for cold weather ops and will be deploying from the Bradley while it's clearing the runway. The steam should hide thermal signatures if they're using infrared gear and they should be able to position themselves near the designated rendezvous spot. Half of them will deploy near the tower area in case things go hot. They'll block any reinforcements."

"Dad, if we're right and this a single group of thugs, I think we have the forces to take them." I said carefully. "Major Grant thinks, and I agree, that we should approach them cautiously but give them a chance to show good faith. We'll be ready if things go sour, and we'll have the forces to take this group out. If things are as bad as I think, we're going to need more than two tankers of fuel though. We'll need to establish a command structure, and a couple of platoons to re-establish order. There's probably several small groups like this throughout the city and countryside."

"Okay, son, I see what you're looking at now." Dad said. "There are too many variables but you're right there's no infrastructure ready to resume proper order. I was just talking to Colonel Richies in the Bay Area about an hour ago. He's reducing the guard patrols and has an extra two hundred troops available. He said they're being sent back home until we need them somewhere else. I'll have the orders cut to send them up to you in Boise. Go carefully. Don't overextend yourself and don't get yourself killed or captured. Listen to the men you've got with you. They are smart men and are experienced in getting states back on their feet. Once things are in motion, let me know who is free and best for running the state until we get them back on their feet."

"Yes, Mr. President." I said, both relieved and worried at how he'd very clearly he'd put me in charge.

"Major Grant, Major Smith, are you both there?" Dad asked and both men sat up in their seats. Smith had a pleased grin on his face, and Grant's was carefully neutral. They both said 'yes' though. "Make sure my son gets the help he needs, gentlemen, and if he puts himself in unnecessary danger, you have my permission to thwack him across the back of the head."

"Thank you Mr. President." Smith said with a smile.

"Yes, Mr. President." Grand said through gritted teeth, and I knew he was considering thwacking me very hard at the moment.

"Dylan, get the job done." Dad's voice said once more. "And God watch over you."

"May he watch over you as well, Mr. President." I said formally as the red light on the phone winked out. "Connors, please go talk to Airman Casters. I want a line established with District 21 HQ and status updates on those planes the President is probably ordering right now. Also have him contact the Washington, Oregon, and California State Headquarters. We'll need power plant specialists, transportation and food distribution people, and probably medical staff as well. See if there' any they can spare. Once we figure out the situation on the ground, we can send the support plane to pick them up. Oh, and close the door on your way out."

"Yes, sir." Connors said with a grin, rising immediately and closing the door. Chambers and Jones were still in the room, and smirking at the Major who was staring at me very coldly.

"Major Grant, is there any more confusion about the chain of command, sir?" I asked.

"No." Grant said immediately, staring daggers at me.

"Chambers." I said, turning to look at the soldier. He went to attention immediately. "I want you to find field uniforms, and any extra body armor we have for the support staff. Get them side arms as well, and go over the basics of how to use them."

"Yes sir." Chambers said, and left the room immediately.

"What are you thinking?" Smith asked me, eyeing me closely.

"Numbers for intimidation." I said instantly. "If they think they outgun us, they're more likely to use violence. The first step will be to make sure they want to talk, not fight. Numbers will do that more than anything. When we land, they're supposed to have a ladder for us. Once that's attached, half the security detail goes first, followed by me and both you Majors. Then the rest of the support staff in fatigues, followed by the rest of the detail. I hope you brought your body armor."

"I did." Smith said with a smile. Grant looked very sour and shook his head.

"Jones." I called the remaining security guard in the room. "Find body armor that will fit Major Grant, even if it means someone goes without."

"Yes sir." Jones said, leaving immediately. However, he was soon replaced by another of my detail who shut the door.

"What about the camera crew?" Grant asked through clenched teeth.

"They all have body armor according to Genevieve." I said. "If they want to risk it, they can disembark after us. It's their choice and I'll leave it up to them."

"What are you going to say to these men we meet?" Grant challenged me again.

"I'll say 'hi' real nice, and then let you show them your amnesty deal." I said. "I think you're best to do most of the negotiations, if they don't shoot first."

"How nice of you." Grant muttered.

"Okay, we all have to get ready." I said. "Let's meet back here after landing."

I cleared out of the room, heading into my cabin where Richardson already had my combat gear laid out, including my body armor, helmet, and weapons. He had a worried look on his face when he locked the door behind me, and it matched the knot in my gut. I couldn't help it, I kissed him gently then, and it did make me feel better. Then the phone rang on my desk.

"Yes?" I said quietly.

"This is Captain Dollinger sir." The female co-pilot's voice was edgy. "The support plane has landed and reports no problems. The vehicle is deploying and commencing steaming operations. They should be ready for us in fifteen to twenty minutes. There's no fresh snow, and it was a fairly warm day so any ice on the runway should be broken up quickly. They will begin plowing and steaming the taxiway to the rendezvous point as soon as we begin final approach."

"Excellent, Captain." I said with a sigh of relief. "Please notify me before we begin final approach."

"Will do, sir." She said and the line went dead. Sammy helped me get dressed after that, running through the hand and voice signals for combat again as we went along. It actually helped calm me down. By the time I was dressed and ready, I was also a lot calmer. That was when Connors came in and handed me a radio headset. He also told me that it we were on the same frequency as the Special Forces troops now deploying.

The phone rang when we began our final approach and I moved out the cabin and into the main cabin where everyone else was clustered into groups of two to three people. Connors and Richardson moved behind and I noticed that everyone was sitting down and buckling themselves in. I moved up to the front two seats and sat down to Professor Higgs, who was dressed in a heavy winter coat.

"You're not going outside." I told him sternly as I buckled the seat belt.

"I know how to use a gun." He said just as sternly, patting a coat pocket. I shrugged. For some reason the thought of the large, former hippie with a gun didn't surprise me as much as it should have.

The landing was very rough, and we bounced twice before settling down. As the plane taxied, Connors began barking orders for people to line up in a very specific order. The camera crew had their lights on and was filming already. My headset was crackling with whispered comments from the soldiers already on the ground.

"Air crew will remain on board to handle boarders." Connors said to me after everything was to his satisfaction. "The only hostage worth a damn is you. There was a full armory installed down below so we had enough weapons and body armor for everyone. The news crew even has pistols hidden away. The squids won't be worth much if shooting starts, but they look like more troops. You're coming off the plane with almost as many people as they have, and they don't know about the SF or the maintenance crew on the Herc. That crew will be our reserve force if things go hot. Stay calm, you've got the upper hand here."

"Paul, thank you." I said softly and he grinned at that.

"They've attached the ladder and it's empty." Came the voice of Sergeant Collins from just ahead."

"Open the door and then move back." Connors told her. The two Majors formed up beside me and I slung my rifle across my back as they had done. It made it harder to get it ready in a hurry, but we were going to try talking first. The blast of air was frigid, despite the uniform, body armor, and coat I was wearing. I'd already told Unger we wouldn't bother with his documents unless it was necessary. He still had them in his coat, I was thinking.

"Move out." Connors command stopped my musing though, and the first six men of the detail moved out. After they had descended and deployed around the ladder, Connors nodded at me before leading the way out. I was very conscious of the camera crew behind me, the Major at my side that would love to see me mess up badly, and the very icy ladder I descended. Hadn't a President slipped this way once and been embarrassed publicly?

The only lights came from the plane's landing lights and several approaching trucks.

"Three inbound trucks, twenty people total." An unfamiliar voice said in my ear.

"They have eight people left in the building. Four are guards, four look like they're setting a table." Another voice said. "Everyone else is in the truck."

"No movement on the perimeter." Another voice said as the trucks finally got close. I noticed the machine guns were pointed in our general direction. They looked like fifty-cals, and would rip through the body armor like tissue paper. About twenty men poured out of the trucks as the camera crew moved to the side, and the rest of the staff formed a half-circle behind me and the two Majors. The rest of the security detail formed a perimeter that would guarantee clear fields of fire.

I was right, I saw, the moment the men poured out of the trucks. There was no order, no clear assumption of important points. They all clutched a wide variety of weapons, dressed in various versions of camouflage and hunting gear. The only lights were those of the trucks, whose engines were shut off immediately after they stopped. The lights remained on, and I could see why when they made it hard to focus past their brightness. Still, the men assembled in a group, looking like a mob of bullies, behind a tall man with a black and gray bear, and a small gut. The man moved towards us purposefully, and stopped at arms lengthy. He had a pistol belt on, but no rifle. The men around him all held their rifles carelessly, but none pointed directly at us.

"Which of you is Dylan Jacobs?" The man asked in a gruff voice.

"I am." I said firmly, stepping forward as he eyed me over.

"You're just a boy playing at soldier." He commented with a loud laugh, and predictably his buffoons all started laughing. No one on my side reacted at all. He finally stopped laughing and looked at the people around me, whose expressions had not changed at all.

"You are Walter Jefferson?" I asked and I could tell that pissed him off, and a few of his people who stiffened their grasp on their weapons.

"That's Governor-General Jefferson of the Free Republic of Idaho!" The man snapped very angrily.

"Very well, Governor-General." I said as if it was no big deal. "This is Major Smith of the Oregon National Guard, and Major Grant of the Washington National Guard, our primary negotiator. I am Warrant Officer Dylan Jacobs, the special envoy of the President of the United States. We are here to discuss the immediate return of the State of Idaho to its citizens and the resumption of lawful governance. Would you care to discuss these things here, or at another location?"

"Idaho is being ruled by its lawful representatives!" Jefferson shouted. "We have returned to the traditions that our forefathers established for this great nation, unlike the travesty being thrust on the people by the Jewish Cabal and being fronted by your father!"

"I see." I said slowly. "So you do not wish to enter into negotiations and I've wasted my time and the fuel, food, and time of the American people."

"That's not what I said!" The man roared, and I wondered how long it had been since he'd had anything but yes-men surrounding him. I thought immediately of Richardson and Jimmy as this man's men muttered angrily. It was an important lesson for me to learn; never surround myself with yes-men. "Stop twisting my words."

"I'm not a politician, Governor-General." I said, twisting the title and earning myself more angry mutters from his people. "I am here for a clear purpose. It is your purpose in being here that is unclear. I ask that you clarify it immediately."

"Turn that camera off!" He roared as if just now noticing it.

"They are an independent news crew reporting on events that concern the American people." I said quickly. "The American people have a right to know what their government is doing and we are not afraid to let them see. Are you afraid of that, sir?"

"I'm not afraid of a bunch of pinko communists with cameras!" The man said angrily.

"Perhaps you'd like to discuss matters elsewhere, out of this cold?" Major Grant said, and Jefferson turned towards him.

"I have had a dinner prepared in your honor at the tower." Jefferson said. "You can ride with us."

"We have our own transportation." I said as the Bradley's engine roared to life and it approached our position. His men reacted to that, pointing their weapons towards the vehicle.

"Load up!" The man shouted angrily, and his people slowly obeyed.

"Security detail, negotiating team, and camera crew with the Bradley." I ordered in a normal voice. "Everyone else, secure the plane."

"You first." Connors commanded, pointing to the Bradley.

"Don't let him take anyone inside but his lieutenants." Grant said when were inside of the crowded vehicle. It began moving as soon as everyone was either inside or on the rungs outside. "You've got him off-balance. Let me take over once we get inside."

"I agree." Smith said and I nodded.

"SF team, this is Jacobs." I said into my headset. "Verify number of people inside the building."

"Four guards, four non-combatants." A voice said immediately. "Vehicles are returning."

"Roger." I said. "Inform upon any change of that information."

"Affirmative."

We arrived at the base of the control tower and moved towards the entrance. The security detail, except for Connor, Chambers, and Richardson immediately set up a perimeter while I lead the two Majors and three guards to where Jefferson stood waiting.

"How about we limit the number of people inside?" Grant said as we approached the man. "Just us three and our three guards, you and your two main lieutenants, and the news crew in the room."

"You don't want me to have guards?" The man demanded suspiciously.

"You have four armed guards and four non-combatants inside." Smith said on cue.

"That does give you one more guard than we have." Grant pointed out.

"Very well, Jones, Matheson, you're with me." Jefferson ordered. "Son, make sure none of them soldiers try anything. If they do, shoot 'em."

That last was directed to a boy that looked no older than me, but who nodded immediately. He swaggered around, ordering people to different positions, and he reminded me of Eric Turner, the schoolyard bully Henry had shot when he'd attacked us with a baseball bat. I whispered that he should be saved for last and I heard a brief chuckle over the radio. We followed the 'Governor-General' inside and he led us to a room with a table in it. It was just as cold in here as it was outside, despite two kerosene heaters. The four guards in here were no better than those outside. There were candles on the table, and I could see what looked like some form of stew on the table.

The four non-combatants I saw made me almost pull my gun and start shooting. Two adult women, dressed in dirty gray dresses waited along one of the walls, hands at their side, and not concealing the shackles that connected them. In front of them were two boys, dressed in dirty t-shirts and ripped jeans, also with their arms in chains. They were filthy as well. One of them had either dirty blond or light brown hair, and the other had hair as dark as the night outside. A soft growl from beside me made me look at Major Grant who had an expression of pure fury on his face. Jefferson saw that and smiled evilly.

"The blond boy was the Governor's son." Jefferson gloated. "The dark-haired is my youngest. All boys in Idaho serve their elders, like the women do, until they reach thirteen. My Timmy will be thirteen next week. Timmy, come shake hands with the nice men. This here is Dylan Jacobs, he's the President's boy, just like you're my boy. Make him nice, won't ya?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jacobs." The dark-haired boy said in a low voice, moving forward and extending his hand. He held his head down though, and his voice trembled. Despite the fact that he was only slightly younger than me, he was barely five foot two, and thin as could be. There was something though that set off the tingling in me, something about his voice and I prepared to shake his hand cautiously. Maybe the touch of our hands would be enough to give me some control over him, enough to make a difference in this tight situation. Jefferson was watching us with an eager expression, as if showing off his boy in chains made him happy.

Or, as I realized as soon as my hand touched the boys, it was a look of anticipation.

I'd been prepared to push the tingling, or whatever it was towards the boy as our hands met, but instead something else happened. I could feel something from the boy pushing into me, like what had happened with Henry and I that one time we'd kissed. However, it was far weaker than me, and I pushed back. The boy cried out in surprise and collapsed to his feet immediately.

"What did you to my boy?" Jefferson roared, reaching towards the boy immediately. His guards started raising their rifles, as did his two lieutenants, and I knew someone was about to shoot. I tensed, hand going for my pistol as the first shot rang out.

"NOW!" Connors voice roared in the room as his rifle spat out bullets that tore apart two of the guards. Chambers weapon was next as he also took out two of the guards. Richardson's weapon fired a split second later, taking out one of the lieutenants. The other, who was closest to me, grabbed me as if for cover as the two women began screaming and Jefferson dropped his son and reached for his pistol.

The lieutenant managed to grab my arm and pull me towards him. I was off-balance and stumbled further into his grasp as his rifle fired, hitting Smith in the chest and knocking him back. The rifle was a knock-off of the AK-47, and I knew its large bullets would penetrate the armor we wore. The man's bare hand switched to grip my neck as he held me protectively in front of him.

"Don't shoot or he's dead!" The man shouted, and a grinning Jefferson stood up, finishing the drawing of his pistol as everyone froze. Outside, the sounds of rifle fire filled the air, and I could hear orders being screamed through my earpiece.

"Let him go." Connors said, his weapon trained on Jefferson while Grant was kneeling beside Smith. Richardson had gone deathly pale and was pointing his rifle at my captor, as was Chambers. The door tore open, and the older son of Jefferson came inside, a look of pure fear on his face. He stopped dead when Chambers switched aim to him. The kid was bloody from head to toe, and the firing stopped outside.

"All clear." The voice in the radio called. "Situation inside?"

"Hostage." Connors said, transmitting. My entire body was tingling now.

"That's right." Jefferson said from where he stood, his pistol now pointed at me as well. The tingling was filling me and I could feel my captor's bare hand on my neck, and I knew this would soon be over.

"You won't hurt me. Don't move, just relax a bit." I said softly, and I could feel the man's grip on my neck loosen.

"Oh yes we will." Jefferson said in reply to my words, but I could feel the man behind me relax slightly. That was all I needed to know. I looked at Richardson, who was looking at me over the sight of his rifle. I nodded just fractionally as I turned my gaze back to Jefferson. The women were silent now, staring in horror.

"Jefferson, put your weapon down and surrender or you will be killed." I said softly. I'd totally forgotten the camera crew was in the room until they stood up at my words. The cameraman was backing up as if to get a good shot of all of this.

"Why would I do that?" Jefferson sneered. "My man has a gun to your head if you haven't noticed."

"Your man is a smart man." I said firmly. "He knows. Sammy, I'm sure."

"Sammy?" Jefferson said in confusion.

"Sorry, something I always say instead of cussing." I answered, but I saw Sammy Richardson's aim change at that. "Your man knows that his only way out of here not in a body bag is if I'm alive. He won't pull the trigger."

"He'll pull it if I tell him to!" Jefferson roared.

"This is your last warning." I said. "Put your gun down or die."

"Never!" He said, moving his gun hand that was pointing at me just bit, to take more careful aim at my unprotected face. The bullet from Richardson's gun was perfectly aimed, and Governor-General Jefferson's last act was spraying the two women with his brain matter, something that made them start screaming again. The man holding me immediately dropped his gun and stepped back.

"Chambers, Richardson, secure him outside." I ordered and the two moved to comply. The man didn't resist, just stared at me in horror. Connors was staring at me like I was insane.

"How's Major Smith?" I asked Gant.

"He's hurt bad." Grant said, now moving to get some bandages on the injured man.

"We need a medic in the main building, Major Smith is down." I said into my microphone.

"Major Grant, get Major Smith and anyone else wounded back to the Hercules, please." I ordered softly, willing my legs to not collapse on me yet. "Have them evacuated to the nearest operational medical facility and then take command of the guard details please."

"Got it." Grant said as four soldiers spilled into the room. It was then that I noticed in those moments when Jefferson had almost fired at me that someone had also killed his oldest son. One of the entering soldiers was the medic, and immediately started cursing as he bent over Major Smith. Two more men entered with a stretcher and loaded the man onto it before racing back towards the Bradley. The cameraman moved again, and I noticed that he was focusing on me.

"I think that's enough footage for now." I said, and the man nodded slowly before lowering the camera. The man with the microphone on a boom stick also relaxed. Genevieve very quietly suggested they go outside and take some shots. Major Grant followed them after giving me a long look, and soon Connors and I were the only two left besides the two women and two boys. I noticed that the woman with lighter hair was now hugging the lighter-haired boy tightly and sobbing very loudly. The other woman was holding Timmy and crying just as hard. Timmy started to rouse at that point, blinking slowly as he looked around the room.

"Is he gone?" The boy whispered in a voice filled with hope. He saw me and stared at me wide-eyed for a moment. "You…you're…"

"I'm fine, Timmy." I said quickly, fairly sure what he was going to say. "Everything's going to be okay now, I promise. You just stay quiet for a little bit, okay?"

"Okay." He said softly, but I could see his mind working behind those eyes. If he shared other traits with Henry and I, I knew he was smart as well.

"Th…thank you!" The woman holding him said so softly. "It's been so horrible!"

"I just wish someone would have stopped this sooner." I told them, motioning for Connors to come closer.

"We need to debrief them as much as possible, as soon as possible." I said and got a look from him that said 'of course we do, you idiot'. "Don't give me that look. I don't know how much longer my legs are going to hold out. Can we get the Bradley back as soon as they get the wounded loaded on the Herc? I don't think I, or they, can make the walk back."

"You got it." He said, moving quickly out of the room and issuing orders through the microphone. I moved over to the table and sat down roughly on it, letting out a big sigh. Funny enough, my stomach wasn't sick. Jones was now standing in the doorway, watching carefully, but keeping a distance. He tensed when both women moved to sit near me, both holding their boys.

"What happened with Timmy?" The boy's mother asked me.

"I'm sorry, you are?" I asked slowly to gain more time.

"I'm Deidre Markins." She said softly. "Timmy's mother. My husband, Timmy's real father was the Guard Commander for the State. She's Joanna, and that's her son Sandy. Joanna was the Governor's wife until…until Jefferson took over."

"He took you prisoner and used you all." I stated, my stomach now becoming sick.

"Yes.' Joanna said. "He chained us, called us his 'wives' and made us do whatever he wanted. He did the same to the boys. My girl…they raped her until she bled to death."

"I'm sorry." I said softly, feeling that it was so inadequate. I felt a hand on mine again, and the tingling told me who it was. There wasn't any pushing this time, but a soft mingling as if he was trying to comfort me.

"Don't Timmy." I said softly, his hand moved away, and looked at him. His eyes were wide though, and he stared. "I don't think it's polite, do you?"

"I don't know." Timmy answered softly. "I didn't know anyone else was like this. Are there a lot of others? How do you learn…"

"Shhhh." I said softly as his mother stared at me.

"He found out about Timmy's ability the night he took our house." She whispered with wide eyes. "Timmy grabbed one of his men and told the man to save him, and the man turned his gun on Jefferson's men. He killed two of them before they cut him down. Jefferson made Timmy do whatever it is he does to the other leaders of their groups."

"Is there anyone really in control in Idaho?" I asked her softly and she shook her head.

"Some of the towns have their own militias they formed and stayed independent, a couple of other groups control a few towns, but in Boise, it's pretty much every group for themselves." Joanna answered and I turned to look at her.

"I'm going to have us all taken back to my plane." I said softly. "My people there are going to need to find out as much as possible as they can from you both. The more you can tell us, the faster we'll be able to make things better."

"What are you going to do?" Joanna asked me softly.

"We've got some fuel coming in a few days." I said. "There's also going to be a few hundred troops showing up. We'll take it one step at a time."

"There's no farms full of food like he said." Joanna said softly, as if admitting the darkest secret she had. "People are probably going to starve before the end of winter.

"No they won't" I said firmly, looking her in the eyes. "Idaho is a part of the United States, and we'll make sure its people survive the winter."

"You're serious?" She asked in surprise and I nodded. "Who do you want to me to talk to? I'll do anything I can to help."

"It can wait until we get you back to the plane" I said. "There's one big favor I do have to ask. Don't tell anyone about what Timmy, or I, can do. Please. There's only a handful of people that know, and if word gets out, it could cause a panic. I've never used it like Timmy was forced to do, and if I have my way, none of us ever will. The only time I've used it like that was tonight, to save my life."

"We won't tell anyone." Deidre said immediately. Lying to them didn't even faze me one little bit. Sometime in the near future, I'd fix it more permanently, but if Timmy had 'touched' either of these women, I'd likely not be able to do anything.

"Are we going to stay with you now?" Timmy asked me.

"For now, yes." I said. "But your mother will decide where you stay in the future."

"Okay." Timmy said with a smile. Sergeant Connors showed back up at that point and announced the vehicle was back. The two women followed me, leading their children carefully as we journeyed back onto the plane.

"We've got the man who was holding you locked in the pilot's bunk room." Connors told me was climbed the icy ladder onto the plane. "Major Gant has the conference room taken over, organizing a perimeter. He pulled the maintenance crew, and as many parts as they could unload, and the fuel bladders for the Bradley, off the plane and they're going to transport everything back here now. He's setting up a defensive perimeter."

"Good." I said as we entered the plane. "Deidre and Joanna here will be able to help. Put the boys in my cabin for now and let them lie down. Maybe give them something to help them rest."

"Will do." Connors said with a smile. We entered the conference room to see Grant standing over a print out of the airport perimeter and talking to a Special Forces soldier dressed in white winter combat clothes. Grant looked up at me expectantly as we entered. Connors took both boys, who were staring silently at everything into my cabin.

"This is Joanna and Deidre." I said when the door was shut. "Their husbands were the Governor and Guard Commander respectively. They have a good idea of what things are like right now."

"Excellent." Grant said. "Ladies, please have a seat. The Air Force stewardess should be back in a few minutes with some coffee and other refreshments. We're going to have a long night ahead of us. Lieutenant, see if we can find some bolt cutters or something to take those disgusting chains off of them."

"Yes sir." The Special Forces soldier said, moving out of the room hastily. I let out a sigh and began to move towards my cabin door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Grant asked sharply.

"I thought I'd get out of your hair, Major." I said as politely as I could.

"Ha!" He barked out. "Have you forgotten you're in charge here? You wanted to be in command bad enough you fought for it, boy. Now it's time for you to command. I'll stop you before you fubar anything else, but like it or not, you're the boss right now."

"I knew you'd get me back somehow." I muttered and he actually laughed!

"Come here and take a look at the perimeter I've got set up. Tell me if you notice anything wrong." He said in a voice that was almost friendly. He saw my confused look and smiled at me. "You were right about the situation here. Despite the fact that you almost got your head blown off, the enemy is dead. Now it's time to fix things. You were right, I was wrong, and now I'm going to make sure you're the best damn commander I know how to make you. So, get to work, and that's an order."

"Yes sir." I replied, smiling softly despite how tired I was. My next statement was more reminiscent of Major Grant in a foul mood. "Where's that damn coffee!"

"There you go!" Grant laughed. "Now you're getting the hang of things."