A Tan Beret Goes to Nellis

[jemhouston]

I'm worried about someone on the US side thinking about doing something very stupid with those nukes during the war.

[Wolfman]

Any amount of money says (a) Sophie and the girls wore each other out that night, and (b) There were weapons tests during and after the war of recovered Soviet nuclear weapons.

No bet on either one, but there are treaties about testing nuclear weapons… unless they were torn up during the war?

[jemhouston]

Any amount of money says (a) Sophie and the girls wore each other out that night, and (b) There were weapons tests during and after the war of recovered Soviet nuclear weapons.

No bet on either one, but there are treaties about testing nuclear weapons… unless they were torn up during the war?

You just had no atmospheric testing of nukes.

I doubt the US would do any above ground testing of nukes, but underground would be done. The Soviets would probably recognize of their nukes being tested underground. I'm assuming the seismic signatures are unique with nukes in that regard.

OOC I believe while France was "neutral" in the previous board incarnations conducted all up SLBM tests including "Instant Sunshine." I'm assuming they told everyone well in advance of such tests.

[Matt Wiser]

Any amount of money says (a) Sophie and the girls wore each other out that night, and (b) There were weapons tests during and after the war of recovered Soviet nuclear weapons.

No bet on either one, but there are treaties about testing nuclear weapons… unless they were torn up during the war?

Nope: the Atmospheric Test Ban and the Threshold Test ban (limiting underground tests to 150 KT or below) remain in effect to this day.

Correct me if I'm wrong,but I do believe the French did do a live test of an SLBM in the South Pacific during the war, to let the Russians know that they still had their own nuclear deterrent and were willing to use it if necessary.

[Poohbah]

02 January 1988
335th Tactical Fighter Squadron HQ
Sheppard Air Force Base

Colonel Brady rapped on the door to Major "Guru" Wiser's office.

Guru stood to attention and said, "Good morning, sir!"

"Morning, Major. Just letting you know that Tenth Air Force is sending a liaison officer down to work comms with Tenth Air Force, Allied Air Forces South's Theater Nuclear Ops shop, and 23rd Air Force. She's been part of the project up at Tenth Air Force."

Guru said, "We have a name, sir?"

"One Chief Warrant Officer 3 Sophia Henrix."

Guru blinked. "Army, or Marines?"

Brady chuckled. "Air Force, apparently."

* * *

Sophie chambered a .300 Shuriken round in her GAU-16/A carbine, hoisted her duffel, and stepped out of the C-130.

A Combat Security Police airman was staring at her as she entered the passenger terminal.

She marched up to the reception desk and presented her travel orders. "Chief Warrant Officer Henrix, TDY to the 335th. Where do I report in for billeting?"

The reception airman was apparently made of sterner stuff than the CSP, or he'd seen more of the Air Force. He gave her orders a quick scan, then said, "Uh, you'd go to the mole--oh, wait, you're not with the SOF people?"

Sophie shook her head. "Didn't even know we have SOF people here."

"We do, ma'am, they're in the old Strategic Air Command molehole if you ever do need to touch base with them. So, since you're with with the 335th, you'll check in at Marine Air Group 11, ma'am. They control the billeting for everything but the guys in the molehole and the base Wing."

"Got it. How do I get to group headquarters?"

"The round-robin bus should be coming along in a couple of minutes, ma'am, just ask the driver to tell you."

"Thank you, airman."

The airman smiled. "You're welcome, ma'am."

* * *

Guru was reviewing a JAGMAN investigation of a fight at the enlisted club and made a note to talk to Chief Ross about Airman First Class Pelham, and what to do with him.

Staff Sergeant Tricia Lord appeared at the door to his office. "Sir, a Chief Warrant Officer Henrix is reporting in."

"Enter, Chief!"

A taller than average woman marched into the office. She was wearing a tan beret with a silver crosshairs-and-lightning bolt insignia, a plate carrier with free-fall wings and a diver's bubble, a suppressed carbine slung over her shoulder, and what looked like an oversized M1911A1 in a gunfighter's rig on her thigh. Her left hand came up smartly to grasp the carbine's sling, and her right hand came up in a crisp salute.

Guru got the impression that if the room flipped upside down right then and there, she'd land on her feet, weapon ready.

"Sir, Chief Warrant Officer Henrix reports!"

Guru stood and returned the salute. "Stand at ease, Chief."

What in the hell? When did women become special operators?

Henrix's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Yes, sir, the Air Force has warrant officers now."

Guru laughed in spite of himself. "Ah, thank you for saving me the embarrassment, Chief. I wasn't aware that women were special operators now."

"There's three of us in the entire Air Force, we're all Special Reconnaissance Officers, and SROs are very low profile, sir. Alicia Smith is taller than me, and Laura Compton is a redhead, sir."

Guru nodded, then gestured to a chair at the conference table. "Have a seat, please." He sat down, and Sophie followed suit.

"So, what do special reconnaissance officers do?"

"We lead special reconnaissance teams into denied territory and conduct visual, environmental, and signals reconnaissance, sir."

Guru nodded. Low profile indeed. "All right. I notice you're rather visibly armed. That doesn't really go with keeping a low profile."

"There's low profile--we don't announce ourselves in the press, we're not the SEALs--and then there's trying to do security through obscurity, sir. The latter doesn't actually work. Ivan's got a bounty on me, so I make sure I'm packing."

"How much?"

"Fifty grand, sir."

Guru nodded.

"American."

Guru stared at Sophie. "Jesus. Must not be easy to have a price like that on your head."

"It is what it is, sir. I'm not driving the bus on that matter."

Guru said, "Point taken, Chief. That said, I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir when I tell you to keep your head on a swivel and assume that someone's after you."

"Yes, you are, sir. Mama Henrix didn't raise a fool."

"All right. So, I understand that there's going to be comms with other outfits. We kind of see this as a locally planned mission."

Sophie nodded. "And so it is, sir. But we need to bring the Fencers to you, on your schedule, not theirs. And that means we need bait, and Tenth Air Force and AAFSOUTH are working that."

Guru nodded. "We were thinking a corps HQ, or something like that."

"Considered and rejected, sir. A corps HQ is a really good target for theater missiles--it can't relocate in a hurry. Theater missiles can. Our plan involves using our own missiles as bait. What we're doing now is a major campaign aimed at killing their theater missiles, and forcing them to make a major effort to kill our own mobile theater missiles--which brings out the Fencers."

"I see." Guru sipped his coffee. "All right, so when does this start?"

"Phase I is underway now, sir. We're degrading enemy theater missile forces as a strategic priority for the deep strike assets--F-111s and A-6s. We want them pushed back below Austin. Then we start trolling the bait. I'm handling comms with the mission stakeholders, and generally getting acquainted with the TACAIR ops end of the mission."

Guru raised an eyebrow.

"I've gotten the 'think about your future' talk from five different generals already over the course of this particular assignment, sir."

Guru chuckled. "I've gotten a few of those, myself."

He stood up. "Welcome to the 335th. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Sophie took her cue and stood as well. "Thank you, sir."

They shook hands.

"By your leave, sir."

"Granted."

As Sophie left the office, Guru thought about their conversation.

Intelligent, highly trained . . . and on her very best behavior. A week or two here, and I'll have a better read on her.

He picked up his coffee, took a swallow, and looked out the window into the squadron area.

He thought of a line he'd heard George Carlin use on Saturday Night Live.

Think of how dumb the average person is, and then realize half of 'em are dumber than that!

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"CSP Det, Captain Blanchard, this is an unsecure line."

"Captain, I just met our liaison for our project, Chief Warrant Officer Sophie Henrix. She's an AFSOC operator. I want your people to harden up on security in the squadron area."

Blanchard said, "You think she's trouble, sir?"

"Her? Good heavens, no. She isn't looking for trouble. It's just that trouble is probably looking for her. Strike that: trouble doesn't NEED to look for her. Trouble already has Chief Henrix's forwarding address and a copy of her travel orders. There's a big bounty on her head--in real money--and there's lots of people dumb enough to try to collect."

Blanchard chuckled. "The stupid, like the poor, will always be with us, sir."

Guru laughed. "Damn straight."

[Matt Wiser]

She's got a price on her head, and it's a given that there are PSD among the civilian employees who now work on the base. There's going to be trouble.

[jemhouston]

$50K in US should tell the people thinking about going for it a few things, one it's not easy. The it's in US means either the Soviets don't think they won't win, or it will be shortly worthless due to them winning.

Did the Soviets ever off the bounties in gold?

[Wolfman]

I don’t think so, if only because that meant they’d have to pay up…

[jemhouston]

I don’t think so, if only because that meant they’d have to pay up…

I wouldn't put it past them to gold plate lead bars.

[Wolfman]

I don’t think so, if only because that meant they’d have to pay up…

I wouldn't put it past them to gold plate lead bars.

More like “We never promised to pay you” right before they execute the idiot…

[Jotun]

I don’t think so, if only because that meant they’d have to pay up…

I wouldn't put it past them to gold plate lead bars.

More like “We never promised to pay you” right before they execute the idiot…

This. "Will you look at that, Yevgeniy, the fool really thinks we are going to pay him...and let him live."

[Matryoshka]

More like “We never promised to pay you” right before they execute the idiot…

This. "Will you look at that, Yevgeniy, the fool really thinks we are going to pay him...and let him live."

“... we promised fifty thousand US dollars to anyone who could kill Praporshchik Sophia Henrix — the woman we call Baba Yaga, someone who is so incredibly fucking deadly, she is considered not just ‘the boogeyman’, but ‘the woman you send to kill the fucking boogeyman’. Anyone who sincerely attempted to collect that bounty would have conclusively demonstrated themselves sufficiently more capable and deadly than said woman that they managed to take her out, survive the doing, and get away to contact us once more. And you propose that we renege on our word and try to murder this person over what is, in the end, pocket-change for a nation-state?
“Nikolai Petrovich, has it occurred to you that this plan might be... flawed, shall we say?”

Oh, yeah. Sounds like ComBloc ‘thinking’ at its finest, to me.

[Wolfman]

It’s the Soviet Union, you do the math…

[Matt Wiser]

There's another possibility: the Soviets are using the reward as a means to get some of their more expendable assets out of the way. The folks who are stupid enough to try for it, motivated by greed and ideology, not common sense. They're not expecting to pay up because anyone foolish enough to try is going to wind up dead.

[Poohbah]

05 January 1988
Planning Cell
335th TFS HQ
Sheppard AFB, TX

Sophie looked over the maps carefully, then asked, "How well do we know where the air army boundaries are, sir?"

Sin Licon blinked. "I'm pretty sure we can find out. What are you getting at?"

"When I'm infiltrating in, I always like to do it right along a seam between two different units. Unless both units are really good, they're not going to have a solid idea of where the boundary is, especially at night, and there's a bias to non-action. If you're straddling the seam, each is air army is going to be hesitant to commit until they're certain that we're hitting their AOR and not the other guy's, sir "

Licon smiled. "That's diabolical, Chief. I like it."

* * *

Officer's Club
Sheppard AFB, TX

Sophie headed over to the 335th's officially-unofficial area of the club and took a seat at one of the tables.

Buddy, the 335th's mascot, came up next to her chair, wagging his tail, and gave her a happy "ARF!"

"Why, hello, Buddy!" She scratched gently behind his ears. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"

Buddy let out another cheerful "ARF!" and resumed his patrol of the perimeter.

Judd "Brainiac" Brewster said, "Buddy likes you, and in there here parts, that's considered a testament to your good character."

Sophie nodded. "Yeah, dogs are excellent judges of character."

She thought back to Thing 1 and Thing 2, now buried under roses in the back yard of the home she grew up in . . . and how they'd saved her life.

Brainiac asked, "You Ok, Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Woolgathering for a second. Growing up, we had a couple of chocolate labs. Dad named them Thing 1 and Thing 2. One early evening . . . they probably saved my life."

Captain Ryan Blanchard, the CSP detachment commander, blinked in surprise. "How so?"

"Well, I was going to go into the backyard to watch the sunset, just to chill out for a moment, then go back to my homework. Mom & Dad were at a faculty dinner at San Diego State--Mom taught Classical History & Western Civ. But every time I moved toward the back door, the dogs would go absolutely nuts.

"I was just about to say 'screw it' and go out anyway when I saw something move in the trees at the edge of the lot--our house backed out onto Navajo Canyon. I thought it was a prowler, so I called the police.

"Turned out it was the Tecolote Canyon Rapist. Guy had decided to go out further afield from his home grounds because the cops were beating the bushes all over Clairemont. The cops got him dead to rights--they got a search warrant for his apartment and found his trophies from his previous rapes."

Blanchard nodded, then asked, "Are they--"

"They both went over the Rainbow Bridge in '82. And I still miss them."

* * *

Sophie approached the pool table, where Kara "Starbuck" Thrace had just lightened a man's wallet by $50.

Kara looked at her. "You looking for a game?"

"Not really. I heard you have a supply shack."

Kara's expression reflected disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Besides, I noticed you ogling me in the gym tent."

Kara laughed. "Damn, you're aggressive."

"A faint heart never won a fair maiden."

"Fair, maybe, maiden, oh hell no." Kara smiled. "But I'm interested, honestly."

"Shall we?"

* * *

The supply shack was actually fairly cozy considering it was at a frontline air base.

Kara took the lead and kissed Sophie--who proceeded to take charge of the kiss.

When they broke for air, Kara's expression was a delighted grin. "Holy smokes, you're dead serious."

"When it comes to mathematics, writing code, tactics, hot fudge sundaes, and sex, I am 100% serious."

Just then, the door opened.

Sophie had her pistol out. "It's kinda rude to walk in without knocking, Jarhead!"

A man's voice "Uh, sorry!"

The door slammed shut.

"Sophie!"

Sophie felt herself starting to hyperventilate, and forced herself to do triangular breathing--in, pause, out, in--on a four-second pace.

"I'm good. Jesus. I'm maybe wired a tad too tight."

"Guru told us you have a bounty on your head. You're good. I've got you."

They made their way to the mattress, and lay down next to each other.

Kara traced a finger along the side of Sophie's neck. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

Kara smiled. "Damn, you're pretty good."

"I had some good teachers."

"Really?"

"I was doing cover for status in Vegas, meeting with some operatives Air Force Intelligence recruited." Sophie chuckled. "Several porn stars, actually. They're keeping an eye open for strainge doings in the sex industry."

Kara chuckled. "Oh, my! I guess you really did have good teachers." Her face became pensive. "Is this . . . cover for status?"

Sophie nodded. "Special project. You're part of it."

Kara nodded. Understood.

"Actually, if you could help me line up a dance card for a few weeks, that'd help considerably. PSD's active here, probably with KGB and GRU minders. I'm looking to bag them."

Kara blinked. "How?"

"Well, if I'm consistently sleeping with you, that says one thing about me. If I'm going through every lesbian or bisexual woman on the base, that says something completely different."

"That you're a big risk-taker."

"Who might get tempted by a nice-enough piece of Commie ass."

Kara laughed. "What makes you think it's going to be women?"

"Men are, what, 70% of the military still?"

Kara nodded. "So they'd get more luck from employing women on the bases." Her face grew pensive. "Yeah, I can see it. The story sells itself. At some point, one of the civilian employees makes her move."

"Any ideas who it could be?"

"If it's PSD, they're going to be messed up. Seriously, they recruited some bad people into that racket. It was less about ideological purity and more about being willing to do some seriously fucked up shit." Kara scratched her jaw, then said, "There's a bartender at the O Club. Cute redhead. Name's Susan. I thought of making a play, but . . . well, I saw a couple men get into a fight over the outcome of a dart game. I happened to be coming back from the little girl's room, so I was probably the only one who had eyes on Susan."

Sophie made a go-on gesture.

"Sophie . . . she was enjoying the fight. And not in the sense that someone might enjoy boxing. I mean, like she was getting off on it. She had that gleam in her eye, and I was instantly turned off. Look, I'm a board-certified nymphomaniac, and I had a messed up Day One. But I still have that sense of right and wrong."

Sophie said, "Same here. Don't hurt people without good reason, try to leave things a little better than how you found them, put the goddamn shopping cart in the corral after putting the groceries in your car."

Kara nodded. "Bingo. Susan . . . something's wrong with her. Like seriously wrong."

[Matt Wiser]

If there's one PSD dirtbag on base, there's likely to be more. It won't be long until she meets Ranger Walker and the local Resistance-who have NOT put their guns away, as well as MSGT Karen Sisco-who usually has both a Mossberg 590 and a CAR-15 close at hand. If she hasn't yet met Ryan Blanchard and the CSPs who patrol the squadron area, she needs to take care of that.

[Poohbah]

06 January 1988
Sheppard AFB
Wichita Falls, TX

The door to the CSP shelter swung open, then slammed shut behind Henrix.

"Sorry."

Ryan Blanchard waved it off. "No worries, you closed the door quick, kept the cold air out. What can I do for you, Chief?"

Sophie said, "Kara told me this last night."

"I heard you two went off to the supply shed."

Sophie said nothing.

"Okay, fair enough. What do you have?"

Sophie told Blanchard what Kara had told her about Susan.

"Susan Abercrombie, works at the O Club. Yeah, she's kinda cute. Standoffish, though. Doesn't talk much."

Sophie nodded. "Unusual?"

"Not really. At some point, we're all going to pack up and head further south. Texas is pretty big, and we need to stay pretty close to the forward line of troops. And there's also combat losses." Blanchard paused, then said, "It can't be easy being a townie next to a major jet base right now. That guy--or gal--you got attached to might leave and never come back."

Sophie nodded.

"So, what do you think?"

Blanchard shook her head. "One pilot's case of the heebie-jeebies doesn't rise to probable cause. It's maybe the first step, but it's the first step of a long journey. It's interesting, though. But I need more substance than just that."

Sophie nodded. "Does it meet the standard . . . what's the phrase for less than probable cause?"

"The term we use is 'reasonable articulable suspicion.' I'm not even sure we have that. It needs to be more than a hunch or a guess. There has to be facts in evidence that I can talk about. Now, the facts can be almost anything. I was a deputy sheriff before the war. Suppose I'm on patrol, it's a summer afternoon, and I see a car parked in front of the local bank, with the motor running, the windows rolled up, and the driver's sitting inside. Is that a crime? No. But it's unusual. Cars get pretty hot in the summer. Leaving a car idling burns gas for no real purpose. Now, maybe he's just running the air conditioner and waiting for his buddy to finish depositing his check."

Sophie nodded. "Maybe."

"Or maybe he's the getaway driver for a bank robbery. I don't have probable cause yet. I do have a reasonable, articulable suspicion that something might be amiss, because it's not normal. So, I can call the tags in and see if the car's reported stolen, and see if the driver matches the general description of the registered owner. Maybe I have dispatch call the bank and see if anyone answers. And I'm looking at the driver as I go by--does he look bored out of his skull, does he give me a wave, or does he try to look away and conceal his face? None of these things is intrusive--I'm doing very basic investigation to make sure that this parked car really is a nothing burger. Or not."

Sophie nodded.

"Now, what I can do at this point is pull her file over at Pass & ID, and see what's inside. Maybe something will jump out as an obvious issue that should've been investigated. Unlikely, but not impossible. The club is a non-appropriated fund activity, so she's not a civil servant. Those background checks are a little looser than I like considering, well, the fact that we're at war."

Sophie nodded. "Amazing how many folks out there don't quite get that for some reason or other."

Blanchard snorted. "Damn straight."

"When you do look over her file, could I join you?"

Blanchard nodded. "Sure thing. And in the meantime, Chief, you keep your head on a swivel, you copy me?"

"Fivers, ma'am. I will be careful."

"Fair enough."

[Matt Wiser]

Nice job. Now, there's one other member of the 335th who raises suspicion about said barmaid: Buddy, the squadron mascot. He doesn't like her and the feeling is mutual.

[Wolfman]

Nice job. Now, there's one other member of the 335th who raises suspicion about said barmaid: Buddy, the squadron mascot. He doesn't like her and the feeling is mutual.

Buddy is truly a dog of culture and good sense.

[Poohbah]

07 January 1988
Sheppard AFB
Wichita Falls, TX

Sophie stepped into the CSP command shelter and saw Blanchard's frown.

"No luck?"

"She's clean. So clean she squeaks."

"Okay, so where does that leave us?"

"I sent a request to the State Government in Exile, back in Indianapolis, asking for a document review. But those are awfully slow."

* * *

08 January 1988
Skyline Club
AUL Tower
Indianapolis, IN

Texas Chief Archivist Doctor Julius Preble greeted Senator Dan Coats (R-IN) warmly.

"Senator, as always, it's a pleasure."

"Doctor Preble, good to see you again."

They went to a booth overlooking downtown Indianapolis and the Statehouse.

Over eggs sunny side up, biscuits and gravy, and coffee, the two men chatted amiably for a few moments, then Coats said, "So, tell me what's on your mind, Doctor."

"Well, Senator, I hate to be in this position, but I'm afraid we underestimated the workload we'd be facing once US troops were back on Texas soil."

Coats chuckled. "Doc, you're a history professor--a damn good one, too--but I don't see how the state archives--such as they are--would be important."

Preble nodded. "Do you know what we took when the I-10 line blew open?"

Coats shook his head. "No idea."

"The indexes for all state driver's licenses, birth certificates, and marriage licenses. I had 15 minutes to figure out what I could safely pack up and 30 to prepare the evacuation order, and then we were either packing up or building a bonfire for the rest. But those indexes, I figured, would be the most important."

Coats sipped his coffee and made a go-on gesture. "What's so crucial about those?"

"They're the records of all of the identity documents issued by the state of Texas. They verify that you are who you say you are. It turns out that the Army's Counter-Intelligence Corps and the Air Force Office of Special Investigations are our biggest customers for information requests. Some fine young filly shows up all dewy-eyed at a base with her old driver's license, and gets hired as a waitress at one of the clubs, or she gets hired as a clerk in the base headquarters. Three months later, she gets caught photographing documents on behalf of the PSD."

Coats made a sour face. "And if they could check the new hires against your indexes, you might spot them. But you don't have enough people."

"With enough people, we could also cross-reference birth certificates, marriage licenses, and driver's licenses. Lining up all of those accurately for date and place of issue is a lot harder. But those indexes are essentially very big print encyclopedias, it takes time to search them, and we're getting thousands of requests just from Lubbock alone--"

Coats scratched behind his right ear, and Preble stopped talking.

Must be something big in Lubbock for him to give me the "shut up" signal.

Coats said, "Point made. You need more bodies. Probably a lot more bodies."

"I've got 23 of the sweetest and most diligent middle-aged to elderly ladies in the Great State of Indiana working for me, and I'm scared the job's going to kill those of a more delicate constitution if I don't get them some relief, Senator. And it's not as if I can go to the state legislature and ask for more people."

Coats gave the good-natured aw-shucks smile that had gotten him re-elected in the 1986 elections after his appointment in 1985. "Point taken, sir. I can't promise you anything specific, but I will talk to my colleagues on the Intelligence Community about getting supplemental funding for you. You've given me good reasons, and I appreciate that."

"Just doing my job, Senator."

08 January 1988
Officer's Club
Sheppard Air Force Base

Sophie stepped into the club and almost tripped over Buddy.

"Why hello there, Buddy! What are you doing way over here?"

She looked across the club to the 335th's area, and saw a redheaded waitress working the tables.

Sophie scratched behind Buddy's ears. "Good boy. Stay low."

* * *

"Hi, I'm Beth Sorensen."

"Sophie Henrix."

Sorensen turned her eyes toward Kara at the pool table, and Sophie nodded fractionally.

Sophie smiled and asked, "Would you like to dance?"

"Love to."

During the dance, she saw 333's mascot wander away from their tables when Abercrombie swung by.

* * *

"So, Ramada Inn or Motel 6?"

"Huh?"

"We've got some mobile maintenance facility trailers we've set up as bedrooms. Etiquette is that you clean up behind yourself. One set's known as Ramada Inn, and the other's called Motel 6. They're both about the same distance from here."

"I'm kinda partial to Motel 6."

Sorensen smiled. "Works for me."

Outside, Sophie said, "Um . . . just so you know . . . I have a boyfriend I'm hoping to marry."

Sorensen laughed gently, then leaned over and whispered four words in Sophie's ear.

Sophie laughed into abdominal spasms.

Finally, she managed to look at Beth's impish grin without breaking into another bout of laughter, and said, "Lead on, dear."