Dawn of Tears - 17. Chapter 17

Note to Readers: It is funny how the things most people accept as 'fact' are really no more than 'fiction' in the extreme. Idaho is a prime example of that phenomenon. I really did very little in the weeks that I was there, except watch and learn. However, I received the lion's share of the credit for the reconstruction and success of Idaho. It was the effective use of the media and public events that gave reality to the fiction of my contributions there. I learned a lot from Idaho, and the use of the media was only one of those lessons.

One thing was very clear to me, and to the others in my circle, and that was Paul Connors was bonded to me differently than they were. It's hard to describe the differences, but what it amounted to was that he had more free will they did, more of an ability to analyze my actions, and to tell me when he thought I was doing something wrong. It was also different in that neither of us sought the other out for sex. Instead, over the next two days we'd casually touch each other in various ways, a hand on the shoulder, a slap on the back, a caress across the back of the hand as we passed by each other, and these were more than enough for both of us.

None of them doubted that he was bonded to me after Richardson had touched Paul's cheek and stared in wonder. He'd said aloud that Paul felt so much like me that he could barely tell the difference. Instead of being jealous, or angry, they all seemed to respect him for that. I realized that it was how the bond affected them, and reacted with relief when some of Hollings' more amorous attentions began to shift Paul's way.

Paul wasn't too sure about that at all, but he didn't push Hollings away either.

The day after Dad left, it was announced that I would be leaving the state in four days to handle 'other items of importance for the President'. Major Grant was promoted to Lt. Colonel and given the command of the Idaho National Guard (mostly temporary units from the other states at that point). Captain Williams was transferred as well, and promoted to Major and assigned as the Executive Officer. Grant had specifically requested him.

Henry arrived two days before I was scheduled to depart, practically leaping down his plane's ladder and hugging me in a very happy, and televised, reunion. The cameras ate up every moment of us standing back to back and arguing who was taller since Henry had said he'd had a growth spurt. Major Grant had to break up the good times though, warning me we'd be late for the re-opening of the first operational power plant. The cameras got another (staged) brotherly argument over who got to throw the power switch that ended with both of us agreeing to do it together.

Then we spent the rest of the day locked away in my room in the Admin building discussing his near-disastrous attempt at bonding someone, and my lengthy discussion of each of my bonding processes, and the two mistakes I'd made. He'd then insisted on trying one immediately, and I was surprised when he asked Sergeant Walters to come into the room. That went off without a hitch this time, since he'd used a slight touch to tell the Sergeant to relax first.

Then he had me call in different members of my circle so that he could try to use the 'touch' on them. What was surprising was that each and every one of them not only wasn't affected by it, but they were able to tell they'd been touched. With Richardson, Paul, and Knight still in the room, along with Henry's Walters, I had Muldoon (the fiery red-haired Irishman in my circle) go find Tim. Jimmy had been keeping the younger boy entertained when they weren't in classes, so he arrived as well. Tim looked from me to Henry (we were both dressed in our fatigues and had our nametags sewn into the uniform), and then frowned at Henry. He stood in the room uncertainly while the still-silent Sandy glared at us protectively from his side.

"Am I in trouble?" Tim asked in a very small voice. I smiled at him immediately.

"No, you're not Tim." I said instantly and he relaxed a little until I spoke again. "I just wanted you to meet my brother Henry, and to see if you could help us with something.

"NO!" Tim shouted, backing up instantly and Sandy jumped in front of him protectively.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"That's what Jefferson always told me he wanted and Jimmy said what Jefferson wanted was wrong, and Mom told me would never have to do that again!" Tim shouted and I relaxed.

"We're not asking for you to actually make anyone do anything." I said instantly. "In fact, I want you to help us make sure that you, or anyone else like us can't do this to people we know."

"What do you want?" He demanded.

"Well, first of all I think I should tell you that I'm very happy with you at the moment." I said and he frowned.

"Why?" Tim asked.

"I'm glad to see that you told me no when I asked you to do something you thought was wrong." I said. "After we talk about what we'd like you to do to help us, you can still say no and we won't get mad."

"You promise?" He asked and I nodded. In many ways Tim was as smart as Henry and I, but in others he lagged far behind, and that included language skills.

"I'm Henry Jacobs, Tim." Henry said stepping forward and holding out his hand. Tim stared at it before shaking Henry's hand. He grinned instantly.

"He is like us like you said!" Tim's voice was very excited. "Wow, that's three of us. You feel different than Dylan though. He's like sharp spikes and really, really strong. You're like fluffy stuff, but you're still as strong as he is."

"You feel different than Dylan as well." Henry said, smiling at the way Tim described how we felt. "Now, here's what we want. You see, everyone in this room is bonded to one of us the way Sandy is bonded to you. We want you to touch each person and say who they're bonded to."

"I can do that." Tim said and immediately reached out to touch Knight, who he hadn't really touched before. He immediately said Knight was mine. He went around the room, not bothering to touch those he already knew were mine, and identified everyone correctly.

"Okay, Sandy, can you help us as well?" I asked, and the quiet, blond haired boy nodded his assent. I touched him and immediately felt Tim's aura, and Henry did as well. "Okay, Tim, Sandy, this one's going to be a little different. We're going to have the three of us, Tim, Henry and I, touch people that are bonded to someone else and try to get them to do something. Now, what we want to see is for the person to NOT do what they are told. We think that they're protected now, and we have to make sure. If we're wrong, it could be very bad if there are more people like us we don't know about. Does this make sense both to both of you?"

"Yes." Tim said and Sandy nodded again, but Tim wasn't done. "Do you want me to like try at my hardest like when someone really didn't want to go to sleep so Jefferson's men could get in or just a little bit like when they were already half-asleep?"

"Start with a little bit, and we want to you test all of them, okay?" I asked him and he nodded. Not even me, the most experienced and powerful of the three of us could get Sandy to do anything. It seemed everyone was protected, once they were bonded. Paul actually breathed with relief at that announcement.

Then we did one last test, and we had each person blindfolded, and their backs turned to us. Tim, Henry, or I would touch the back of the subject's hand with a single finger for a brief moment, no more than a second and ask then they'd say who they thought it was. Sandy was un-blindfolded each time, and he got it correct. Everyone else present was correct each time too, but the one time we tried to trick them, it almost worked. Muldoon had started to say it was me, then stopped and announced it was Paul.

Henry was even more excited when he left the next morning because one of his enlisted staff that dad would want brought into Henry's circle (he'd adopted the name now too and I realized it was going to stick) was a young nineteen-year old woman. There were definitely difference between us, and they went deeper than that when I bonded someone now, I wanted the whole show and he was happy that Walter's dick hadn't been brought outside his pants before the man had his orgasm and was bonded.

One thing we both realized as he slept on a cot next to mine in my room was that we really were changing and moving in different directions. What hadn't changed though was that we still loved each other as brothers. There were things about the way I carried myself, and some opinions that I held, that he didn't like, and I thought he was too soft in some areas, but we were still brothers and actually treasured our differences instead of hating them.

What really pissed me off though was that his plane was painted in colors he'd chosen. Red was more predominant than the usual blue, white, and red scheme and he flaunted that in my face several times while he stayed. Still, when his plane flew into the air, I experienced sadness, and a sense of loss that he was gone. The next-to-last day in Idaho saw me attending a ceremony downtown where Joanna, Sandy's mom presented me with a plaque declaring me forever an honorary citizen of Idaho, and the new Mayor handed me a key to the city. I no longer even tried saying I hadn't done that much.

The last day in Boise, we flew out barely after dawn, and I actually breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be in the air again. The routine that had been established my first few days on the plane of lesson with Professor Higgs (the other professors who had been teaching me briefly stayed in Idaho) continued. There was an air of celebration in the plane, and most everyone was in a good mood. Tim and Sandy were still staying in my cabin, and when we landed in Bakersfield, they stayed in the plane with Jimmy and Tapers from my detail.

Bakersfield almost looked normal, except for the absence of cars on the road. There were a few, but not very many. Still, I saw a number of buses as we drove from the airport. After an argument between Paul and Lt. Ellington, I sat in the armored vehicle's cupola and was able to see outside as the vehicle traveled into the city. I was very surprised at the huge banner that said: WELCOME HOME TO CALIFORNIA- DYLAN JACOBS. Bakersfield wasn't my home, but then again, I guess it was the thought that counted.

I was surprised at the crowd of ten thousand that turned out for a fifteen minute speech by me. Sure, there were three other speeches given, but it was obvious that most of the crowd as there for me. I realized as I finished that speech that public speaking didn't really bother me anymore.

I did give Paul a heart attack though by insisting I stay to shake hands and sign autographs. He was so worried that he rushed to the vehicle and got an armor vest for me in case someone had a pistol and shot me. I didn't argue and put the damn thing on.

The helicopter flight was fun, since I managed to talk the pilot into showing me just how much better a rotor-wing craft was than a fixed wing. I think Hollings didn't like it too much though since he puked out the open doorway as we barely cleared a mountaintop. At the edge of the blasted landscape that led to what once had been Los Angeles, I laid the wreath down, and said a few words for Genevieve's camera crew. Frankly, looking at that landscape I was more angry than sad and when we took off to head back to Bakersfield I was just glad to be leaving. It was all I could do to walk, not run, up the steps to my plane.

We landed in Huntsville long after dark, and in the middle of a rainstorm. It looked like an entire armored brigade was waiting for us as we disembarked the plane in the storm, and I was rushed into the nearest vehicle. The ride to the hotel where I had previously stayed passed fairly quickly since I dozed the entire way there.

The only real difference I noted in my tired state as I was shown to my rooms was that I was on a different floor than last time, and the suite smelled like fresh paint as I followed the hotel porter towards my bedroom, which was the master bedroom of this suite. I was too tired, worn out, by the time in the air to ask any questions. They'd have to wait for morning since I climbed into bed, only taking off my boots and uniform top first, and went right to sleep.

Jetlag was a pain in the ass I decided when Paul woke me up the next morning for a brisk run at 0500 local time (my body was screaming that it was still earlier than that). The sun wasn't even over the horizon yet, and the ground was still wet from last night's storm as he ran me in laps around the hotel. I was miserable and silent, more than a little angry at being woken up so early, but I couldn't complain. It was part of my daily schedule after all.

Lt. Ellington was waiting for me at a table loaded with breakfast when I'd finished my post-run shower. She had both Darby and Knight with her, as well as Professor Higgs and they'd all started breakfast already and greeted with me smiles as I sat down and filled my plate. As I ate, she informed me that the Secret Service had finally caught up with the new President and had insisted on some changes to my security detail, although they had finally agreed to some compromises with my dad and the newly re-formed Joints Chief of Staff.

Most of what she had told me, I already knew. For instance that there would be some changes on my personal security detail, including the replacement of half the squad with regular military personnel (she didn't mention that none of the new staff would be married, but then she probably didn't know that). Arrangements had also been finalized for the other staff that would be working with me, and as she discussed the people and their roles I paid special attention since it was all new information.

Then she gave me a brief overview of the next few weeks. Christmas was slightly more than a week away, so I'd be staying in the area, doing tours of local cities that were all within driving distance and spending time meeting and becoming familiar with my new staff. She also told me that this suite was 'mine'. Mom and Dad still stayed in the suite upstairs, but Henry and I had suites on this floor that would double as our 'office' since office space was now at an extreme premium in the old Space Camp buildings. The hotel, which had pretty much been living space for the entire government when I left had been emptied and was now becoming the 'temporary White House', being remodeled and refitted to be both living and working space for the President, his family, and staff members. Dad's main office was now on the top floor, across from his suite.

I was also told very bluntly that my uniform for the day, except on trips to nearby towns, was to be civilian attire. It felt weird to be dressed in jeans, a nice blue button-down shirt, and tennis shoes again. I tripped several times after putting the shoes on because my feet felt lighter. It was almost like having to learn how to walk again.

At precisely 0930, I went upstairs, escorted by only two of my permanent detail, Hollings and Muldoon. When we exited the elevator (Ellington had given me a security card that allowed me to send the elevator to the top floor), I had my first face-to-face encounter with the United States Secret Service. They looked me over from head to toe, twice, and then told my guards they would have to remain here. Hollings started to protest, but I told him to 'sit'. The Secret Service thought it was funny and chuckled softly before escorting me to my father's new office. I stopped in the outer office and thanked his lead secretary for the help she'd given last time I'd met her. The woman smiled, told me she was glad things had gone well, and then told me the President was waiting.

"You're late." Dad said when I was led inside, and the Secret Service agent had shut the door behind me. Henry was in the room as was mom, and both of there smiling.

"Sorry, had to chat with your secretary a bit, dad." I said and he actually laughed a little at that. I sat in the empty seat between Henry and Mom, after hugging each of them of course.

"So, here we are, four weeks later, and all back safe and sound" Dad said with a smile.

"Dylan, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that video from Idaho." Mom said in a stern voice. "You just better be glad I don't have to clean your uniforms. Do you have any idea how bad those blood stains are to get out?"

"I…I…thought…" I gasped between bouts of laughter. Mom's statement had caught us, or at least me by surprise and I was laughing hard. "I thought you were going to tell me to never do that again."

"It'd be useless, so I'm not going to bother." She said and I laughed again.

"Well, I'm sure we all have a lot to catch up on, and I know that your mother is looking forward to spending time with both of you." Dad said with a soft smile. "I'm also sure you are all very much aware that we still have a lot of work to get done."

"Yes, Jim, but they will be spending time with me." Mom said firmly and he nodded quickly.

"Yes, Wilma, but let's get the work out of the way first, okay?" He asked and she agreed with a stern nod of her head.

"Isn't it Christmas vacation?" Henry asked and dad just gave him a nasty look until Henry grinned to show he was joking. Then dad just shook his head.

"We don't get a vacation for a long time." Dad said at last, and both Henry and I sighed as if on cue. We turned to each other and grinned. It felt great to be back with my brother.

"First up, school." Dad said, and this time we groaned aloud. That got both of our parents to smile broadly. "I'm very proud to tell you both that your early coursework has earned the interest of some of the most prestigious universities in the nation. Many of them are gearing up for starting classes again in early February for a short semester. I think you'd both be honored that every university that is going to hold classes has invited you both to attend."

"I thought we'd be traveling, working for you." Henry said with a worried look on his face. I felt a knot of fear and surprise in my gut.

"You will be which is why the Army has been negotiating with various schools about loaning us Professors and setting up an independent study program for the two of you. Your study program will cover all the basic topics of a University program, tailored for your academic abilities. The first contracts we've negotiated are for one year, and after that you'll either enter the school properly or we'll re-negotiate contracts. The Army would prefer you both go to West Point, but well, it's not going to be operational for a while, and everyone from there is already performing other duties where they're needed."

"So what schools do we have to choose from?" I asked, and Dad smiled.

"One of you will be going to Harvard, the other Yale." Dad said with a proud tone in his voice.

"Are you trying to make us into rivals?" Henry asked with a teasing smile.

"Competitors." Dad clarified. Mom was just smiling broadly.

"Wait, how can Harvard be looking at holding classes?" I asked in confusion. "Wasn't Boston hit by a nuke?"

"It was hit by a French nuke." Dad said as if that explained everything. "It was something they call a 'fizzle'. It went off, put out a whole lot of immediate radiation, but didn't do more than destroy a few blocks. Most of the damage to the city was radiation exposure and some blast damage near the harbor areas. The outer cities, including Cambridge only suffered light damage. Their guidance system was supposedly about fifteen miles off as well since it exploded over the harbor. They had a nasty tidal wave from the vaporized water that killed a lot of people, but according to the scientists it also helped reduce radiation damage by washing much of the residue back to the ocean."

"Of course the oceanic scientists are already screaming bloody murder." Mom added and we all had a laugh.

"Dad, it seems like things are recovering way faster than I thought they would." I admitted softly.

"Dylan, the biggest problem with all this crap was that people weren't working with each other." Dad said, and I knew he was right, we'd been saying it all along. "After the nuclear bombings, people pulled together and started working together more. The stories about Idaho we got, thanks to you, also fueled a change in attitude. Your mom visited fifteen states in the days after we got that video, showed it to the state leaders and they stopped dragging their feet about things. We found that several states were forging reports about fuel supplies, keeping their tanks full. We've got food production facilities going on-line all across the country in the next few weeks, despite the bad weather."

"What about the privatization issue?" Henry asked and for a moment I was confused. He'd had more contact with dad and things that were going on here than I had.

"We've formed a blue ribbon panel here, but they've been going in circles." Dad said. "I think I'm going to throw them a loop and send you two to their meetings for the next few days."

"I have no idea what this is about." I admitted and Henry smiled in triumph at trumping me on something.

"The economy is in complete disarray." Henry said in a superior tone and I let him get away with his teasing. I knew I'd get him back eventually. "Half the companies in existence don't have workers, management, or resources. Every major supply source is under government control. Fuel systems, transportation systems, food processors, are all government controlled. The worst part though is the financial systems. Banks all across the country were looted during the initial riots, records that were almost all electronic, either crashed, was destroyed, or are so fragmented that it's almost impossible to recreate them entirely. Property issues are becoming more and more frequent at the local levels as people return home and find someone living in their house, or the house burned down. In some cities people stole cars off of dealership lots and as conditions get better, the local police forces are getting lists of hundreds of stolen vehicles, and there's tons more issues like that."

"All of which are being handled by local leaders in thousands of different ways, or they're looking to us for answers." Dad picked up the explanation when Henry finished. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, and I realized it was a gesture indicating his stress level and near-constant headache. "During the cold war, careful backups of these financial systems were maintained constantly in case of nuclear war, but in recent years that was discontinued in favor of placing them in secure facilities safer from terrorism than anything else. Several were damaged when their power systems were interrupted, and their backup power supplies failed. Workers who would have shut them down to preserve the information had fled already, and a lot of data was corrupted. Others destroyed by sabotage from some radical groups that saw the opportunity to wreak havoc."

"The privately held companies aren't in that bad of a shape." Mom said, speaking up for the first time. "They had most of their records survive intact, and know their people; the biggest problem lies with the larger, publicly traded corporations."

"Don't forget the problem of currency values." Henry added. "People have no faith in paper money now. Millions were stolen from banks, some bank records are intact, others aren't so some people that had millions in the bank can't prove it and people that had nothing are claiming millions with no way to prove if they are right or wrong."

"So just start from scratch." I stated and dad shook his head.

"You need some lessons in economics, Dylan." Dad said and I felt stupid for once. "Since we have some records, it's not like we just start completely over. Privately held corporations have most of their records intact and will be able to verify them through state records, which are also pretty much intact. The two sticking points are most of the publicly held corporations and the value of the dollar and whether we honor the old dollar or establish a new benchmark currency."

"I think I just got your headache." I said and he laughed.

"Well it's nothing compared to the whole Middle East mess." Dad said and I looked at him blankly. He saw my expression and groaned. "Don't tell me you haven't been getting the updates?"

"Since I have no idea what you're talking about, I'd say I didn't." I replied and he pinched his nose again.

"I'm going to shoot that man one of these days!" Dad exclaimed harshly. Mom had raised her hand to her mouth as if to hide a smile. "I thought I cleared this up with McFarland when we talked about Henry. The both of you were supposed to be getting the daily briefings that go out to military commanders."

"I told you dad, he wasn't too happy about me getting them and he likes Dylan even less than he likes me." Henry said and dad nodded.

"I'll have that fixed by this evening." Dad's voice was firm and he looked at for a moment as if deciding the fastest way to explain something complex. "Our forces were driven into the southern region of Iraq by the Muslim heathens. They formed a 'United Islamic Central Force' for military cooperation. Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Jordan, Syria, all the expected countries combined their forces to knock us into the Red Sea. They almost succeeded and we've been keeping it quiet, but they killed nearly 40,000 of our soldiers in the area. Right after the nukes went off, they pulled their forces back and decided to finish off Israel while they could. Israel saw them coming last week and bombed their rally points once most of the Arab forces were assembled."

"Bet that hurt." I said. "Israel's Air Force is pretty good."

"The Israelis used half their nukes and sank every amphibious landing ship being assembled in Lebanon and Egypt with submarines." Dad said and I winced. "Syria responded with nerve gas, killing a few thousand civilians and the Israelis used almost all their remaining nukes on Syria. Pakistan launched a nuke short range ICBM, but Israel shot it down. The ragheads sent every plane they had at Israel, several of them with nukes from Pakistan and tried to break through. I ordered the Eisenhower to launch her planes and join the air battle. Israel lost two-thirds of her air force, the Eisenhower lost over half of her air wing, and three or four of the heathens limped home. That's literal, three or four planes made it back. Now the bastards are trying to refuse to sell us oil. If we Christians weren't still here and not taken to heaven, I'd think Armageddon had come."

"What are we going to do?" I asked as my stomach turned to lead. "This could ruin everything."

"The oil will flow." Dad said in a voice filled with confidence. "Last night those heathens got a phone call from me, the King, France, Germany, and Russia that if they didn't stop bugging Israel, stop bugging our troops, and pump the oil we wanted they would each get a city nuked by the US. Once the World Economic Standards Establishment Council meets in mid-January, they'll start getting paid a fair market value set by the WESEC. Until then, they either fill up every ship that pulls in to port or I nuke one of their cities not near their oil fields. If they still refuse, all the countries that have signed onto the Reykjavik Accords I negotiated in Iceland will send troops and we'll take them over for good."

"How many countries have signed up?" I wondered aloud.

"Sixty-three." Henry stated wit a broad smile. Of course he'd keep up to date on that. He'd been there when dad went to Iceland.

"That's a lot." I whispered in surprise. "Are you going to tell the public about this? How long can we hope to keep it secret?"

"They will be told after we either nuke an Arab city or the first ships due to arrive leave with no trouble." Dad said. "No one expects many problems from the announcement though. People are still trying to get back on their feet. We'd be in more trouble with them if we didn't take a harsh stance."

"But using nukes like that…" I whispered, suddenly remembering the blasted landscape I'd seen the day before. What had been L.A. was nothing but a mess of blackened, dying land and twisted metal.

"Son, what's the alternative?" Dad asked me firmly. "No oil? People starving again? We still haven't gotten back on our feet. People are still going hungry and will go hungry all winter long until the harvest season. We have to ship tons of wheat and corn to Europe where there's real starvation setting in. Fifty percent of the tankers filling up in the Middle East will come here so we can do that. Mexico was all but given to us as an occupied territory by the Accords. No one even argued as long as we shipped them food."

"People aren't upset about that either?" I asked.

"We've been showing pictures of just how bad Europe is getting." Mom said. "We've been telling them we'll have one lean year, where some of us might still be hungry after a meal, but we'll still have food on our plates. We're even having people start jokes about it being the 'Slim-Up America' national diet craze. Get rid of the obesity problem we've been having. Meanwhile we ship what extra food we can to Europe where, if they don't get that food, millions will die during the winter from starvation. In return, we get the oil we need to re-establish our economy. Then next summer, while Europe is trying to reach a basic state of existence, we'll have our economy up and running and we can all get rich by helping them recover."

"Get rich, quick, America scheme on a grand scale." I said and she nodded.

"So people are accepting that?" I asked.

"Almost completely." Dad said. "People are seeing more food on their plates, they're seeing lights on in their homes more often, and they feel that things are getting better. Most of them are remembering how bad it got, or almost got depending on where they live, and they're willing to do with a little less right now to keep other people alive. One of you will probably fly over to Europe when the first grain ship arrives to do an awareness campaign on just how bad things are still getting over there. The better places over there are like the Bay Area at its worst. The worst are getting as bad as Idaho."

"Looks like Dylan will be going then." Henry muttered.

"Actually you're in the lead for that trip." Dad told him. "You've already met most of the leaders over there so you're more familiar to them."

"Lucky idiot." I said, stopping myself from saying 'bastard' at the last moment. Mom and dad frowned on cussing. "You got to go to Iceland, shake hands with princes and the like and I got to go where people tried to kill me."

"You loved it and you know it." Henry shot back, and he was right. I would probably have hated the Iceland trip.

"Okay, so who gets Yale and who gets Harvard?" Dad asked, returning to the topic we'd been focusing on at first.

"I like the color blue." Henry stated.

"I like the color red." I stated, and we smiled at each other.

"So Henry gets the professors and eventually a degree from Yale, and Dylan gets Harvard." Dad said and we both nodded.

"I need to get going to my meeting." Mom said, standing and moving to hug each of us in turn. "You boys behave and I'll see you at dinner."

"Bye Mom." Both Henry and I said as she moved to kiss dad before leaving.

"I still have another few minutes before I have to be anywhere and we have some more stuff to go over." Dad said slightly more seriously. "I haven't told mom about your new…abilities. Some of this will tie into them so we can talk more freely. There are no microphones or other ways to overhears stuff in here."

"Okay." Henry said as he took a deep breath slowly.

"Both of you should be meeting your new security staff over the next few days." Dad said quickly. "They were chosen to be more representative of all the branches of the military as well as by their skills and abilities. Dylan you've got a few who don't quite fit the normal standards, but I'll explain that shortly. After much discussion by the joint chiefs and the secret service it was decided that your primary security teams, the ones on the plane with you and closest to you will remain active duty military. Those that are staying and are Guard troops will be switched over to active duty Army. The new members of your teams are a mix of Army Special Forces and Navy Seals. You both will have military support staff to handle all the different functions you will perform for me. The only civilians on your planes will be the news crews, your Professors, and your 'friends', Dylan."

"How many people are we looking at here?" Henry asked.

"Well, you'll both also have Military officers and support staff." Dad answered. "Frankly, with the revelation about there being other people around like you I'm extremely uncomfortable with anyone around us. I've been looking at anyone who is armed around me and your mom so carefully that Fullard thinks I'm starting to get paranoid about something. There's nothing I can do, though, to protect Mom or me without spilling the beans on you two, so I'm learning to live with the risk for me. However, I refuse to risk you two when I don't have to. Next year, when things get better, we'll be pulling back the security coverage on all of us, and most of your personal staffs will be switched from military to civilian. My idea now is to assign you people that you will bond to you and can fill the jobs as civilians with more capabilities. Dylan, your PR officer's assistants, do you think they can work out as civilians in the roles they are doing now?"

"I think so." I said immediately. "I think that if we had highly skilled enlisted people with us now, they'd make the transition just fine."

"What about women?" Dad asked. "I know that so far you've only done this with men. Will it work with women?"

"Yes." I answered. When Jefferson had first found out about Tim's abilities and experimented with them, one of the subjects had been a girl.

"So it won't be a problem if there are women assigned to your staff?" Dad pressed and I shook my head no while Henry did the same. "Okay, just make sure of one thing: Don't get them pregnant."

"I think that can be managed." I said softly while Henry laughed. He stopped laughing though when dad speared him with a stern look. He finally nodded his head, blushing slightly.

"The officers will be rotated through, and there's not many of them." Dad continued after staring at Henry a little longer, reinforcing his message. "Normally the officers and civilians on your plane won't be armed, but enlisted people are expected to be. That's my main concern, someone getting to them while you're away and they pull out a pistol. My other concern is about the pilots, but frankly no one qualified is single and there's enough redundancy in their system and rotations that I think you'll be safe. More than likely anyone getting close enough to try to turn one of your people will focus on an enlisted person. Now, tell me everything you two have learned since the last time we talked. I haven't had a private talk with Henry since you two got together in Idaho."

That was a relatively long discussion as Henry and I told him about our discoveries on how it was impossible to use a simple touch to 'command' someone who was already bound to another person, and on how the bound subjects could figure out who had 'touched' them without seeing them. Henry also had made a little progress on his research into the experimental fertility that had resulted in our birth, and our abilities. The FDA records were of course turned into ash when Washington was nuked, but he'd found out that the company's headquarters were in North Carolina, and that it had been in business when the crisis happened. There was a good chance that he could get more information from there, but the trouble was going to be how to get the records without raising too much suspicion.

That was something we would all think about.

We were nearly done when dad's phone buzzed and he picked it up. He got a grim look on his face at whatever was said, and I prepared to stand up, expecting a dismissal, but he gave a curt order to 'patch it through' and turned on the speakerphone. He wrote something on a pad of paper in front of him and held it up as a voice started speaking with a heavy accent.

"I am Abrahim Saladid, interpreter for the most esteemed Ayatollah Khulari, with whom are we speaking?" The voice said as dad held up his pad and we were able to read his instructions 'Henry - let's be nice' and 'Dylan - kill them all'. We both nodded in understanding and my head spun for a moment. Dad should really have other people in the room, but then again, we weren't here to advise him. We were here to play along with his plan.

"This is James R. Jacobs, the President of the United States." Dad said into the phone with a hint of anger in his voice. The door behind us opened and I turned to see Admiral Fullard and Senator Crawly enter, both panting as if they had been running. Dad wrote quickly and raised it. It read 'Henry and Dylan are doing good/bad cop, help them if they need it. I want this idiot to think it's just me and the boys.'

"The Ayatollah is here with his three closest advisors and prepared to discuss our current crisis and thoughts on an amicable resolution. Do you have your advisors present or do you wish to wait?" The interpreters accented voice came over the speakerphone as both men nodded at dad.

"My sons Henry and Dylan are here with me and they're all the advisors I need at this time." Dad said.

"The Ayatollah says that strong sons are a gift from God and that you are a blessed man by your sons." Abrahim, the interpreter relayed.

"Discussions that begin in agreement between both parties are also a gift from God." Dad said and waited as the man translated.

"The Ayatollah says that is also a truth." Abrahim stated. "It is our hope that the issues we are to discuss will be resolved with such ease as well. The Ayatollah is greatly concerned about the harsh threats made by the United States. It is not the will of the Islamic people that others should suffer, but how can we be expected to work in peaceful cooperation when you threaten our lives and offer nothing in return for our goods? Trade and peace are not built on such things."

"He does have a point, dad." Henry stated when dad pointed at him. My brain raced for something to say when dad's finger pointed at me.

"We are offering them something for their goods." I said less than a moment later. "The payment is not immediate, but the concept of credit is something the world's economy has run on for years."

"That was Henry and Dylan respectively." Dad said after another moment, and paused to give the translator time to work on that. "I'd like to hear why the Ayatollah does not think our credit is good."

"It is not the Ayatollah who thinks the United States will not eventually pay its debt." Abrahim said a few moments later. "But it is the fact that the Ayatollah cannot feed his people on the promises of future dollars of uncertain value."

"If his people are hungry, I think we should be able to find food somewhere to ship to them, couldn't we dad?" Henry said when Dad's finger pointed to him. Crawley had just whispered something to him as the translator spoke.

"That's a good point Henry." Dad said immediately and waited for the translator.

"The Ayatollah says we do not need American wheat to feed our people." The translator's response was quick. "We need something of value to ensure our own nation's survival, and the American dollar is no longer of significant worth. We are aware, though that the United States has vast reserves of gold. He is sure we can reach an agreement there."

Admiral Fullard was whispering in my ear before the translator had even finished speaking and I was grateful for the thoughts he'd given when Dad pointed at me with a very angry look on his face. I'd never heard what the Admiral had told me, and it fit with the Arabic mindset, I thought, so I decided to go with it, and add a little twist of my own.

"A man lost in the desert quickly finds that his gold necklace and gold bracelets that made him wealthy in the city will not help him find shade the heat of the day, nor water to quench his thirst, nor food to give him the energy he needs to survive." I said and Admiral Fullard nodded with a broad smile. "Gold hasn't been a standard currency for many years, nor will it become one again. It goes against the economics of the modern age. The man who holds back food from the needy to line his own pockets will have much to answer for when he meets God."

There was a lot of angry chatter at that, and I realized the Ayatollah really didn't need a translator, he could understand English just fine, but chose not to speak directly to dad for whatever reasons. I could see that dad knew that as well, and so did the other men in the room. Henry was smiling at me, and mouthing 'I wanted to say that!'

"Dad, why are you even bothering talking to a man who refused to speak directly to you even when knows the same language as you?" I asked and dad grinned even more at me while there was sudden silence on the side of the phone call.

"It's called diplomacy son." Dad said. "I'm supposed to pretend I'm not being insulted and they get to feel like they have the upper hand. When you're the one in the strong position, you can afford to let them feel superior because you know you can destroy them with the push of a button."

"This is not the time for lessons in arrogance to your filthy sons!" A new, and very angry voice sounded on the phone speaker and Senator Crawley was having a coughing fit as he tried to keep from laughing.

"I can think of no better time than to teach them the arrogance of other people." Dad said calmly twisting the man's words. There was a very loud burst of whatever language the man was speaking and dad just smiled.

"Just nuke them, take over the oil fields and get what we need." I said when dad looked back at me. The cursing on the phone was silent. "The oil companies that kept research in alternative fuels sidelined are dead and if you're smart, dad, they'll never exist again. In five years our dependence on oil will be so small that we won't need their oil fields anymore. Nuke 'em all except for their oil fields, send in troops from around the world, bleed them dry and then leave them to wander the desert on their camels when we're done. Their armies are dead thanks to the Israelis, they have no air force, again thanks to the Israelis and us, and if Pakistan has any nukes left, we can just destroy the entire country while we're at it, before they can use them. The nuclear genie is already out of the bottle, and Americans are worried enough about their own survival that they won't mind a few million heathens dying as long as they have dinner on their plate tomorrow and electricity in their home."

"Do children now make policy for the United States of America?" The Ayatollah's voice was calmer now, and almost trembled.

"Actually he's just telling me the same thing most of my advisors have already told me." Dad said. "They think that when I announce tomorrow, so close to our beloved Christmas holiday, that forty thousand American soldiers were killed by you, that the people of the United States will demand I wipe you from the face of the earth. Frankly, I don't see what's so bad about that idea. Can you?"

"That would be genocide!" The voice did tremble now. "History would remember you as a man worse than Hitler."

"History is written by the side that wins the war." Henry said into the silence that followed. "We will win, and we will write the history books."

"Now, all we're telling you is to give us the oil now." Dad said in a polite voice. "You will receive payment for it once the world currency markets and standards are reestablished; in accordance with the value we give your oil. If you do this, perhaps the anger of the American people will be cooled so that they do not demand your destruction. I do not wish to have to read the message you sent me, and I am sure you do not want me to read it to them as well. I do not think they will like hearing you say that 'the bodies of your children, your boys and girls rot in the desert for the carrion eaters to consume as will happen to all Americans.' That was not a very nice thing to say, and if our people knew about it, they would demand your blood, and the blood of all your people."

"The world will not support your committing genocide!" The Ayatollah said immediately in his heavily accented English, but his voice did not even sound certain.

"I do believe you have already received the calls of twenty world leaders telling you that they will support any action the United States makes, including the use of our nuclear arsenal." Dad reminded him and the phone was silent for a long time.

"If we accept the…credit terms, for how long is the value of oil to be determined by the buyer, not the seller?" The voice of the Ayatollah asked in a very weak tone.

"Only until the establishment of new currency standards by the WESEC." Dad said. "That should be little more than a month, maybe two months from now. Then oil prices will be set by the world market and economic forces."

"I will…consider this idea." The Ayatollah said softly. "I will require some days to review this with my advisors."

"I believe a tanker arrives in the Dubai port tomorrow, about one hour after my planned speech to the American people to inform them of the loss of so many of their children in your lands, and your attempt to destroy Israel, our friend and ally. If I do not have good news for them by then, I am afraid of what their reaction to my speech will require me to do." Dad said just as politely.

"I will…speed up our considerations." The Ayatollah said and the line clicked as he hung up his own phone. Dad sighed as he turned off his speaker phone.

"I look forward to the day we can rid ourselves of those heathens." Senator Crawley said, and I realized he was a part of the religious-based group that had plans for our country, and obviously Admiral Fullard was as well.

"Thanks for your help, gentlemen, boys." Dad said as he leaned back in his chair and smiled with pleasure. "I was wondering when he would call, and I was glad I had the boys here. He probably wouldn't have believed the threat of nuclear annihilation coming from an adult, but hearing Dylan say it probably scared him to death."

"Plus, even if he tells the world that Dylan Jacobs urged you to nuke them, they'll shrug it off as a hot-headed kid." Admiral Fullard said, and started chuckling, patting me on the shoulder as well. "Sorry, boy, but you're going to have half the world start shaking in their shoes when they hear you're on the way to see them."

"That's what we're planning on, isn't it?" Crawley said, taking a seat and smiling at us. Fullard also took a seat next to me and I wondered if this was a planned meeting.

"I take it you both think we should tell them about our long range goals now?" Dad asked, and both men nodded.

"They've already shown they can handle adult duties, and that they're good at what they're doing." Admiral Fullard said. "It's behind the façade of what they are doing now that we will achieve our ultimate goals, and realize the dreams we came up when we were all young men at church camp."

"Who'd have thought that two church camp councilors and a young camper would end up being in the positions we are now." Senator Crawley added with a deep chuckle. I knew their approximate ages, and it fit that the two men and I my dad might have met in such a situation. I looked at Henry, who had assumed a relaxed posture, but I knew he was as tense as I was.
"Boys, do you realize exactly what effect you two are having on the public?" Dad asked and we both shook our heads. This wasn't our turn to talk.

"We couldn't have asked God for two better blessings to do his work." Crawley said, closing his eyes briefly before looking at us. "Together, they see two young boys, blessed with an intelligence that is almost frightening, and who obviously love each other. Those little high jinxes you pulled in Iowa have people absolutely convinced that you two have been brothers for all your lives despite the fact they know Dylan was only adopted a few months ago. You're young, energetic, bright, and hard-working, and love each other and your parents very much. It shows through in everything that you do, and those reporters running the NBS can't get enough of you. We track how much time they spend on different issues, people, cities, all that stuff. On an average day, and they're broadcasting 24/7 now, they spend roughly six hours a day on you both. Your dad's only getting four hours. Your mom barely gets two. No one else gets more than one on average. They're doing background stories like mad. They've already done three recreations of your shooting that sniper in the Modesto airport, and tomorrow they're airing a special on that assassination attempt on Dylan where the National Guard Captain died. They've already done a special on her alone, featuring interviews with her family and the Guard soldiers stationed in the headquarters. They painted her as a hero that saved your life and someone who taught you important things from the beginning."

"There was a Guard soldier who did save my life." I muttered.

"Yes, and they're doing weekly updates on his recovery." Admiral Fullard said with a soft smile. "Did you know that when word got out both your squad detail was being reshuffled we had over eight hundred of our best men volunteer, and everyone on your squad who's being transferred marched into General McFarland and begged not to be transferred? He told them that since you would be traveling so much, the President didn't want to unnecessarily split up families and that since they were Guard soldiers, he didn't want them to be kept from their home units."

"How did they respond?" Henry asked.

"Every single one of them from both your squads volunteered to be transferred onto full active duty with any length of service we wanted." Fullard answered. "Those that are staying were told that if they stayed, they'd have to sign up for four years of active duty and not one hesitated to agree. The others, well when they were told the President still didn't want married men on your details, three of them said they'd divorce their wives."

"You're joking." I sputtered and I knew my eyes were wide.

"It's a good thing General McFarland knew I'd never want a man who had divorced his wife on your details." Dad said with a grin. "I wasn't going to tell you two about that, but it's true."

"Well at least Tom's doing better." I said softly, referring to the guardsman who had been paralyzed and was now re-learning how to work. Senator Crawley laughed at my statement.

"The Congress wants to start awarding soldiers Medals as part of the holiday publicity campaign." Senator Crawley said. "Every state Guard unit is awarding medals on Christmas day. Most people won't have many things to give as presents, so the government's doing medals as a way to 'spread Christmas cheer' and as a way to reinforce the thinking that the worst is behind us. General McFarland requested unit commanders to give recommendations for the highest awards, the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, Distinguished Service Medal, and the Silver Star. Those are pretty much the four highest awards in the military services. Naturally Congress wanted to get involved and although we're not legally required to approve these medals, we endorsed them."

"No, please don't tell me we're on there." Henry groaned and all three men grinned at us.

"Well, you are, but what I was getting to is that the Guardsman who saved you, Dylan is one of four people receiving the Medal of Honor." Senator Crawley said. "He's being presented his medal in Sacramento because the doctors don't want to fly him anywhere. Two of the other Medals of Honor are posthumous, so the President will be presenting them to their family members in a ceremony here on Christmas Day. He's also presenting the Distinguished Service Cross to one soldier in this area, that's the second highest award. Then he's presenting the Distinguished Service Medal, that's the third highest to three people here, including you, Dylan."

"No, please no." I muttered and the three adults laughed while Henry punched me in the arm.

"If you don't want another one, don't walk into a madman's lair." Admiral Fullard joked and I glared at him. He just laughed at me.

"Don't worry, Henry, we haven't forgotten you either." Senator Crawley said, and Henry groaned. "You're getting the Soldier's Medal for that sniper incident at the Modesto Airport. Dylan, you're getting the Meritorious Service Medal for that one as well, but you'll already be wearing it for the ceremony, and of course you've both been awarded the Army Commendation Medal, which you'll both already be wearing."

"Don't try to say no, either." Dad ordered us, a huge smile on his face. "It's part of the hero image of both of you, something that is necessary for our long-range plans."

"I bet General McFarland doesn't like this." I muttered and they laughed.

"Mysteriously your names weren't on the list when it came to Congress, but that was rectified unanimously." Senator Crawley stated. "Luckily Admiral Fullard told this old civilian exactly what would be appropriate and what Lt. Colonel Jennings from California and Lt. Colonel Grant from Idaho had recommended. Oh, and I forgot to mention Major Smith, who is recovering very well in Nevada, will be receiving the Distinguished Service Cross as well."

"Okay, so we, and a bunch of people connected to us are getting Medals." I said. "We're both being put on display and put on a pedestal that eventually someone will knock us off of. Where's this going?"

"Son, that pedestal is going to be so high by the time we finish that no one will be able to knock either of you off of it." Dad said in a voice that conveyed absolute certainty.

"Last weekend I saw my six-year old grandson for the first time in six months." Senator Crawley said. "The first thing he asked me was if I'd really met Dylan and Henry Jacobs. Later we were talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up and he said he wasn't sure. He wanted to be like Dylan Jacobs but he thought being like Henry Jacobs would be cool as well cause he was a little nicer."

"Oh man." I groaned in horror. I looked over at Henry who was sitting there, eyes wide, and his mouth was opening and closing softly.

"There are parents all over this country telling their kids that they should look up to you two as role models." Dad said in a softer tone than before. "The parents themselves are looking at you two and saying 'it's so sad what they've been through, but look at how well they're dealing with, and what they're doing'. The more things you two accomplish, or are credited with accomplishing the more public confidence you will gain. Dylan, you're the cool, deadly, and logical boy. Henry, you're the kind, compassionate, caring young man with an amazing gift for solving problems and fixing disputes. People are starting to see you as the best of America, and when it's time for us to move, when they're faced with hard choices about the future of their country, they're going to look to you for guidance."

"Dad, no one's going to look at a thirteen year old for anything major like what you're implying." Henry said firmly. "We're thirteen years old."

"You're thirteen right now." Senator Crawley said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. "Dylan turns fourteen next month, you turn fourteen the month after that. In five years you'll be nineteen, young adults who have been in the public eye for over five years. People will have known you for that long, and although many of them may never have met you, they'll be so use to seeing you that they'll think you're part of their family, their favorite sons. Then, when Jim's first term as President is nearing an end, we make our big move, and with the two of you leading the way, most of the people will follow without a second thought."

"What exactly are you talking about here?" I asked sharply.

"Son, the reason this whole crisis happened wasn't really because some radicals blew up the oil." Dad said softly. "The reason things got this bad is because our country's leadership left God's path so long ago that we were divided amongst ourselves, mired in the sins of the world and unable to make good decisions. Today, we don't have that problem, the divisions between us have been sealed for a little while, but tomorrow the band-aid on them may come off. We need to heal those divisions so that our country is truly united again, but that can't be done with a government like what he had, what we're still dealing with today. The minor changes we made to the constitution don't even begin to address the core issues that we must address. However, when we've completely won over the people, when they look to us for leadership, for moral guidance, then we'll be able to make the changes that are necessary, and you two are the key to ensuring that it happens quickly, and peaceably."

"The United States of America is dead, boys." Senator Crawley said in a voice that was both soft and stern. "It just doesn't know it yet."

"The United Kingdom of God, however, is just being born, and its people won't know about it for a while." Admiral Fullard said in a voice that was reverential.

"Five years from now, we will lead people from the old, divisive, dying United States into God's Kingdom." Dad said in a reverential voice similar to Fullard's. "And when we do, the Devil and those who oppose us won't stand a chance with the two of you on our side."