Program V3, Prelude 3

#1

David Adams was not a man given to pointless worrying. In the wake of the 43rd version of the Program, he'd been well aware that there was going to be a reckoning. Equally, however, he was well aware that said reckoning was not going to be coming down on his head. The South American front had absolutely nothing to do with him; he'd never even fought in that theatre. The scattered news that had reached Adams over the course of 43 was pretty goddamned awful. Somehow the collective brass in seven different countries had simultaneously been caught with their pants down and proceeded to suffer an absolutely crushing defeat. The grapevine disagreed on exactly what had happened; there were rumours that the South Americans had received outside funding or weapons, others claimed sabotage or worse yet, traitors within their own ranks.

In Adams' opinion, it didn't matter. The men and women in charge of that operation had been supplied with as much manpower and resources as they could possibly have needed. Regardless of whether there was a third party involved or defectors or any of the other outlandish rumours, in the end, it came down to complacency. Underestimate your opponent's capabilities and you were just asking to be sucker-punched. Granted, it wasn't often that a mere sucker-punch resulted in this level of unmitigated disaster...

The second Adams had finished wrapping up 43, he'd boarded a military chopper on a direct flight to Washington. A summons from the General was not to be taken lightly, or indeed treated as anything other than a direct order.

He'd arrived second of the four people currently standing by in the General's war room, an austere area dominated by a heavy oak table. The walls were covered in strategic maps, depicting their current operations and the status thereof. There was a conspicuous space where Adams knew that the charts for most of the South American continent had been. Those were going to need a serious overhaul to suit the new situation. He wondered, briefly, if the Commander-in-Chief had torn them down in a fit of pique, and then ejected the speculation from his mental space. Not a good idea to start off down that path. Instead, Adams refocused on the others.

If he were to place a bet, the man whose head was about to roll was the one who'd arrived first. Major General Daniel Frye was a good man to have a drink with, funny and easy company. Adams had shared a table with him during several functions, and he was one of few men who could make those horribly boring events tolerable. He was also no more than a passable officer on his best days, and Adams had heard enough of Frye's stories to be certain that his friend rarely gave his maximum effort. There was a reason he'd been installed as Brazil's military governor and not been given a field command. At an educated guess, Frye had promptly started resting on his laurels the moment he'd received the assignment. From there, it was only a short hop towards failing to properly monitor one's responsibilities. Nobody involved in an active engagement got called back to the capital if they were performing well.

A shame, but friendship was a poor substitute for competence.

The other two had arrived as a pair, and Adams knew them only by reputation. Lieutenant-Colonel Vahlen and Colonel White, a formidable double-act who had done a great deal to improve supply lines and infrastructure in the southern parts of the United States and colonised Mexico. Both of them were career military, though from what Adams could recall they'd studied at completely different armed forces academies. Vahlen would have been a difficult read for most people, but Adams wasn't most people. She was so stone-faced as for him to be sure that she was nervous, and just attempting to project calm. White just looked severe; Adams suspected that she wouldn't have reached the position she held today if she wasn't, given her clear Chinese background. That, more than anything, was telling of both White's abilities and the strength of her partnership with Vahlen.

He wondered what it would be like to have a partner like that. A drag, probably; he couldn't imagine needing to bounce everything off somebody else. His own was as much of a second opinion as had ever been necessary.

The door at the far end of the room opened, and in stepped the General. As always, he was wearing full dress uniform, complete with peaked cap. Adams snapped to attention, and the others followed suit. The Commander-in-Chief's piercing eyes swept across them for a moment, and he nodded the tiniest fraction.

"Kathryn, Joanne. I regret that your first time in the White House couldn't be under better circumstances. Let's get started," he paused, and then turned to Frye. "Daniel. Explain yourself."

Frye, for all his faults, was difficult to rattle. Just by being here, he had to know that his number was up, but he was perfectly calm as he spoke. "The South Americans must have been preparing something like this for a while, sir. They showed an unseen level of coordination and resources across all fronts and a level of knowledge which—I'm loathe to say it sir—indicates members of our own forces must have been assisting them. This has been corroborated by battle reports suggesting our own men opened fire on—"

"Enough. Daniel. I know the situation. I asked you, specifically, to explain yourself."

Frye's poise faltered, and he took a moment to respond. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question, sir."

"You lost Brazil, Daniel!" the General barked. "As we speak, we are having to evacuate non-combatants from the country and enact an emergency militia! Even should we drive the enemy back, it will take years to restore order and re-establish our position there. Do you know the last time we lost a colony, Daniel?" The General's eyes were filled with cold fury, even as he stood perfectly still.

Frye blinked rapidly, mouth working. He had gone pale. "I—no, sir."

"Never. Daniel. The answer is never," he tilted his head back. "So I ask you again: Explain yourself."

"I..." Frye swallowed. "We had dispatched a large contingent of our standing troops as reinforcements to the fighting. However, there must have been some kind of resistance cell within the border; they opened up the main Paraguayan checkpoint and blew a hole through the Uruguayan wall. We were scrambling from the start."

"And by 'we', you mean your subordinates. You, Daniel, along with your inner circle, were throwing a party."

Frye smiled nervously. "Sir, I don't think that's quite—"

"Don't bother, Daniel. I have a reputable reports that you delegated operations to Garfield Husbands whilst you and three of the other four ranking officers held a 'soiree' with civil officials."

"Sir but you see, it was necessary! We had to keep them onside and the function was—"

"A perfect opportunity for our enemies, Daniel. Husbands went MIA inside the first hour of engagements in Brazil and the chain of command was ruptured. If it wasn't for your junior officers, the situation would be even worse."

Fyre's shoulders slumped. Finally out of words, it seemed. Adams flicked his eyes to the side; Vahlen and White were each looking dead ahead, but he could see cracks in that stone mask of Vahlen's.

"You're relieved, Daniel," said the General. "I suggest preparing yourself for the court martial."

"Sir," Fyre saluted, turning to exit the room in an obvious daze.

Oh to see careers be shot down in flames.

The door closed with a decisive click. Vahlen straightened even further than she had been already. Adams' legs were getting tired. Anyone other than the chief, and he would have been strongly considering taking a seat.

"Kathryn, Joanne. I called you here so that you could see an example of the flaws in the South American strategy," he regarded the two women. "And so you had an idea of the extent of the mess you're going to need to clean up," the General placed a palm on the table. "Your new assignment is to organise the relief and evacuation effort from the warzone. I expect you to liaise with the commanding officers in the northern countries to ensure the operation proceeds smoothly and to convey to them the importance of learning from Daniel's mistakes.

Vahlen saluted. White followed suit, and then spoke. "Sir, if I may?"

The General nodded fractionally.

"What resources will we have access to? We'd barely started preparations for expanding the supply line out of Mexico."

"You have my authority in the matter, Joanne. You will be granted all reasonable allowances to fulfill your orders."

"Yes sir."

He saluted back. "Your flight leaves in an hour. An aide will continue your briefing en route. Dismissed."

The two women chorused 'Sir!', and departed.

Adams was left alone with the most powerful man in the USA, and by extension, the world.

The General's eye twitched a moment, and he shook his head. "Pull up a chair, David. This may take a while."

Gratefully, Adams sat. He was getting too used to the Program setup where he could run the show however he wanted. This was a good reminder, even if the reasons for it were less than optimal. It didn't matter that the defeat had nothing to do with Adams, a defeat was a defeat, and he couldn't stand seeing his country lose.

"How can I help, sir?"

"We have traitors, David. That is a fact. We no longer have South America. With the situation as it stands, it's not a certainty we're going to hold anything, let alone take it back. When I told you we were pulling out, it would probably have been more accurate to say we're consolidating what we have left," as always, he spoke frankly. Adams sort of wished he wasn't. Hearing it all spelled out like that was painful.

"I take it you're not dispatching me to the front," Adams said carefully. "You would have sent me with Vahlen and White."

"Correct. I need you here. I need you to turn Daniel's errors into something the public can hear."

Oh. Good. Easy then. "The public news broadcast will set us back there." The newspapers weren't supposed to report on ongoing battles, but the evacuation had created a loophole, and the broadsheets had promptly gone to press with it. The military was forced to reply at that stage, essentially issuing a statement which neither-confirmed-nor-denied pretty much everything, which from Adams' perspective was pretty much the worst option. Clam up in the face of that type of news, and you were waving a great big 'everyone panic!' flag.

"Correct again. I'm not asking you to lie, I'm asking you to make it palatable."

"And to what extent am I leaving out the unpalatable, General?" Adams rubbed his nose. "The best way of delivering something like this is to provide a scapegoat. I'd rather spin the focus onto the traitors than the South Americans. Tell the people we got beaten by ourselves, not by some backwater catching us with our pants down." He was in work mode now, and even with the chief, he couldn't keep himself formal.

"I see. You don't think it will encourage other traitors?"

"Yes, but there's no right answer. Focus on our enemies and it emboldens all of them. If we get the public's attention on possible dissidents, then the problem starts to self-police."

"Hm," the General nodded. "Very well David, it's up to your discretion. You'll be working closely with CIA on this one; make sure you keep one another informed."

Great, spooks. "Yes sir."

"An office has been prepared for you. I suggest taking a moment to familiarise yourself with it before you get to work."

Right here in the White House? Cushy. "Of course, sir."

"We'll select a replacement team to administer Forty-Four in your absence. As of now, this is priority number one."

"Absolutely."

That was the US military for you. He'd just got his baby back and now it was in someone else's hands once again.

Oh well. Time to see what the spies had dragged in.